#LIKE SHE WASN’T IN AN EMOTIONALLY ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP WITH A MAN THAT MADE HER FEEL LIKE SHIT BUT SHE STILL STAYED WITH HIM ON AND OFF | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

talkdutchtome · 9 months

Text

You Should Have Said No Chapter Three- Death By A Thousand Cuts

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / pierre gasly x reader )

summary . . . when your fiancé cheats on you, you strike up an unusual friendship with one of his closest friends, who just so happens to have had a crush on you since he set eyes on you. chaos ensues.

inspired by the works of miss taylor swift )

genre . . . angst )

song . . .death by a thousand cuts)

warning . . . cheating, mental illness, angst, eventual smut, poorly translated french and dutch, swearing, mention of parent loss, emotionally abusive parent, slight social media au, kendall jenner as fc (potentially more i’ll add as i go along)

series masterlist . . . available here )

Once you had landed in Barcelona, you were greeted by an ample about of photographers and reporters taking photos of the three drivers. They knew who you were, you had accompanied Pierre to countless races, but you could tell they did not expect you to follow Max, Lando and Daniel out of the private jet, their eyes darting to the door to see if Pierre was going to follow you out; when they realized that Pierre did not accompany you, the clicks from their cameras became more intense. You knew the girlfriend of a driver being caught leaving a private plane with three of his rivals was a big story and the tabloids would go crazy for it. Thinking of Pierre seeing the photos made you cringe inwardly, almost feeling guilty for your budding friendship with Max. The rational side of your brain tried to shake that thought away, you were only friends with Max, even if it was anything else; you no longer owed anything to Pierre. Even still, you still felt slightly uncomfortable so you quickly thanked Max for his continued help and support before saying goodbye and walking towards the studio where you would be working that day. You weren’t sure of your full schedule for the day, but you were aware that the first session would be with the drivers from Williams and Haas. Most photography sessions with the drivers were usually done in groups of two teams, simply so the whole grid could be done as quickly as possible. Realistically you didn’t particularly want to be working, you still felt weak from the events of the weekend; but you knew that sitting around and wallowing in sadness wasn’t going to help anything, so you took a deep breath to compose yourself before taking the last sip of the Redbull Max gave you on the plane before beginning to get to work.

Max’s POV

Max watched you walk away from the group, unable to take his eyes away from you until you were no longer in his line of sight. Hearing laughter come from his two friends he looked back at them. “Mate what is happening to you?” he heard Daniel ask before Lando chirped in too. “Yeah, I mean, going to her house and cooking her dinner, inviting her in your jet, that is not the Max I know.” He was about to respond until he caught sight of Pierre walking towards them, looking like a man on a mission. Max was slightly thankful for this interruption; he truly had no answer for his friends’ questions after all. But mostly he was nervous as to what Pierre wanted to talk to him about. He wasn’t sure if Pierre was aware that it was him who told you what happened in the club, although once he saw the facial expression Pierre wore in his face, he was pretty much sure that he did know.

“So do you want to tell me which one of you told Y/N what happened with Sophia?” He addressed Max and Lando, knowing that they were the only people where there who knew what happened.

“Look mate I don’t think-” Lando started, trying to diffuse the situation but he was interrupted by Max.

“Yeah it was me, she deserved to know” he spoke up, having little patience for the French man stood Infront of him seething.

“And why the fuck do you think you know what she deserves. I know you’ve always had a crush on her, but I never knew you would stoop so low that you would try to sabotage my relationship. She’s my fucking fiancée man.” Pierre’s words made Max unbelievably angry, he didn’t want to continue this pointless conversation and he didn’t want to dignify Pierre’s ridiculous words with a response, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Yeah, and how exactly telling her that you slept with someone sabotaging your relationship, I’m pretty sure you there one that did the sabotaging mate.” Pierre laughed, reaching into his bag for something.

“Oh if that’s all you did then I guess this isn’t your jacket I found at my house today mate.” He spoke with venom in his voice, throwing Max’s Redbull jacket at him.

Max gulped, realising that he must have left it when he came round to see you, his actions were innocent, but they certainly didn’t seem that way to Pierre.

“Did you fuck my girl Verstappen?” Pierre asked with a look that would have had Max six feed under if looks could kill. Max was dumbfounded, Lando’s and Daniel’s jaws dropped to the floor in shock. “What no of course I didn-“ he started to reply, until Pierre’s fist connected with his face. Without even thinking Max immediately swung back at Pierre and went in for a second hit until Lando and Daniel got in between them, stopping them from hurting each other any further.

“Go fuck yourself Max. She’s mine.” Pierre called out, walking away as soon as he got out of Lando’s grip. Max opened his mouth to respond but Daniel pulled him away, encouraging him to walk away from this conversation.

The three drivers arrived in Max’s drivers room, looking in the mirror he noticed the split lip he had thanks to Pierre, he cursed him, knowing that he had media duties later, dreading the questions he’d get.

“Look Max you nee-“ Daniel started to speak making Max roll his eyes, Daniel was always trying to give words of wisdom, taking the fact that he was older than a lot of the grid very seriously.

“Seriously Daniel not now” Max dismissed Daniel, not wanting to be taught a life lesson right now.

“No Max I think you need to hear this. I know you like Y/N, you always have. But now is not the time to try anything. She is a very pretty girl, I get why you would want to but there is about a billion reasons why you shouldn’t, the drama that it would cause with Pierre for a start but most importantly, it’s not what she needs right now. That woman has just found out that the person she loved had sex with someone else, she is broken. She does not need anymore completely avoidable drama all because you want to shoot your shot. I love you man, but you can’t put her in that position” Daniel finished, looking at Max, trying to gauge if he had pissed him off with what he said. He usually prefers to stay out of the heavier topics, more than anything Daniel is an extremely positive person who would much rather make someone smile than serve them some harsh truths. Max knew this so he knew that Daniel was being completely serious.

“I do like her, I think she’s beautiful and funny and well.. she’s like a shot of espresso; she makes me feel alive, she makes my heart race. And I also think she deserves someone much better than Pierre, I always have thought that even before all this” he spoke as his friends looked at him with wide eyes, not expecting words like that to come out of Max’s mouth. He took a shaky breath before continuing.

“But all of that isn’t why I’m doing what I’m doing, I actually agree with you Daniel; my love is the last thing she needs right now. But what she does need is a friend. Think about it who do you see her spend time with around here other than Pierre? Charles, Charles’ girlfriend and Carlos, that’s who, What side do you think they’re going to take? She gave up her job to follow Pierre around and now he’s left her with no one by her side. So I’m going to be there for her, I’m going to be her friend. You both know what I went through with Kelly the way she left, if I didn’t have you guys I would have gone insane.”

Daniel and Lando shared a knowing look, before Daniel looked at Max, before reaching up and ruffling his hair; proud of his friends new found maturity.

Your POV

Work was hard, and long. You were able to put a brave face, even when Alex Albon asked you how Pierre’s celebration went with a wink. You knew he didn’t mean anything by it, he was a lovely guy and was just trying to have a joke with you; that didn’t make it hurt any less of course. Looking down at your schedule, you feel your stomach sink as you read the two teams you’re supposed to be shooting now. Redbull and Alpine. Closing your eyes, you fought hard to keep your lunch down; you really didn’t want to see Pierre right now, and you certainly didn’t want to see him with Max. Max’s actions and his niceness towards you confused you, he never really showed you any attention before, with most of the interactions you two have had with each other being in group conversations. To be honest, you had even thought on the occasions you did spend with each other that he didn’t actually like you, there had been a few situations where you noticed that if you were stood or sat too close to him he would move away, times where you would make a joke to the group and he would just look at you in a funny way. You tried, and failed, to steady your breath. Looking at the watch on your left hand, the watch that Pierre gave you when you got job with formula one. The clock hit 4, the time the drivers were due to walk through the door. Like clockwork, Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez walked through the door. Your eyes fell to Max, immediately feeling your racing heartbeat calm down, you smiled to yourself happy to see him. That shocked you, not expecting seeing him to make you feel that way. Your smile dropped when your eyes focused in on his lips, noticing it was split and bleeding. You had no reason to think so, but you just knew Pierre had something to do with it. That suspicion was confirmed when he and Esteban walked in the room and your eyes immediately saw that your fiancé had a black eye, or ex-fiancé, you corrected your own train of thought. The tension on the room was unbearable, nobody said a word. Checo and Esteban didn’t fully understand what was happening in the room but they were able to put some pieces together, the matching war wounds, both the ones on their faces as well as the matching bruised knuckles they shared; alongside the uncomfortable silence in the room, it was clear something happened between the former teammates.

The awkward silence sat for a few moments longer, nobody wanting to be the one to start speaking. That was until your boss Rebecca walked in.

“Okay people, we’re going to start with Max and Checo, we just need a few photo of you two together and then we’ll move on Pierre and Est-“ her instructions stopped when she saw the marks on the two men’s faces.

“Okay what the hell do you people think you’re playing at you both knew this was scheduled for today and you show up looking like-“ she began her rant, cursing out both men but you couldn’t hear what she was saying, instead you were too focused on Max’s lips. It looked sore you thought to yourself, almost trying to excuse why you found yourself unable to look away; although just for a second you couldn’t help to thinkable how soft they looked despite the sore, how kissable and plump they looked. You visibly shook your head, almost like you were physically trying to shake that thought out of your head, you had no right to be thinking thoughts you like that. You chalked it up to your brain still being fuzzy from the last few days of hell you had just endured and turned to face Rebecca, looking for instructions on what was going to happen now.

“Right well obviously Y/N can’t take photos of you looking like this so you can all leave and ill try and find time to reschedule it. I will be speaking to both of your team principals as this is just simply not acceptable. Y/N, that was the last shoot of the day so you can head off.” You winced at her tone, clearly very pissed off before nodding and leaving. You walked towards your office for the weekend, looking for somewhere safe before your equipment before you headed back to the hotel room.

“Mon chéri, can we speak?” you heard Pierre’s voice speak from behind you. You immediately tensed up, really not wanting to speak to him. Despite that, you gently nodded, knowing that you can’t live in this limbo forever.

“What is going on with you and Max?” he asked walking closer towards you. You scoffed at him. Unbelievable, you thought to yourself, he didn’t follow you into your office to apologize or see how you were doing after the worst few days of your life, he just wanted to talk about Max.

“Don’t make that noise at me Y/N, I know somethings going on so tell me. Are you fucking him?”

You saw red, you were enraged that after all he had put you through, he had the audacity to talk like you were the one who cheated on him. He was still walking closer towards you, he didn’t stop until there was a gap of only a few centimetres between your two bodies.

“Okay Pierre, first thing- no I am not fucking him, he has been a friend to me, you know since you broke my fucking hear, and secondly- if I was it would be none of your damn business; you lost the right to have an opinion on what, or for a matter of fact who I do, when you slept with a random women in a club bathroom.” You fumed at him, taking your ring off and pressing it into his hand.

“We’re through Pierre.” You told him but he didn’t say a word, instead he brought his hand up to your chin, pulling you closer to him before crashing his lips onto yours. You wanted to push him off you but you didn’t, you let him kiss you and you kissed him back. Your lips fit together like two puzzle pieces. Being in his arms again, feeling his lips against yours felt like heaven. You didn’t know how touch starved you were until he picked you up and your legs wrapped around his legs in an instant. Everything that had happened, everything Pierre had put you through was gone all you could think about was you and him and you both together here and now. His hands reached to your desk and cleared space to sit you down, his lips coming down to your neck causing a small moan to escape from your lips. You put your hands to the zip of his drivers suit, ready to pull it down to, desperate for him to keep touching you. Before you could do anything you heard your phone ring and it was almost you woke up from a trance. You pushed Pierre off of you, shaking your head. Not sure if you hated Pierre or yourself more from that encounter, you began to speak.

“That was a mistake Pierre. I don’t want anything to do with you. Please leave me alone we are done”

Pierre looked like he was about to cry but he did what he asked, walking out of your office without looking back at you once. Your phone rang again and you reached down to answer it, too flustered with you encounter with Pierre to even check who was phoning you.

“Hey bitch, where the hell are ya?” you heard a very familiar voice through the speakers. Lili. Your best friend since before you even knew Pierre. You didn’t very often get to speak to her, she moved to the UK a few years ago and you had only seen her a few times since then due to both of your busy schedules.

“So excited to hear from me you’re speechless huh? Look I was just phoning because I’m at the airport with a bottle of tequila and I need to know what hotel you’re staying at so I can order my uber.”

“Wait Lila? What?” you questioned genuinely confused.

“Charles called me, he told me what happened and that I needed to get here as soon as possible, so I caught the first plane I could.” You could have cried, there was no one in the world you wanted to speak

“I cannot believe he did that. What a fucking asshole.” Lila sat on your hotel room floor with you listening to you tell her the whole story, starting from the club in Monaco and ending with the encounter you had with Pierre. Half a bottle of tequila had been consumed between the two of you and Taylor Swift played though the speakers of Lilas phone, she knew exactly what you needed.

“This Max seems like a good guy though. You should have a go on him, show Pierre what he’s missing.” You laughed at her proposition, too drunk already to explain to her why that would be an awful idea. Lila began speaking about something else but you were too focused on the song that had just come on.

“I get drunk, but it's not enough

’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

Chandelier's still flickering here

'Cause I can’t pretend it's okay when it's not”

“Y/N, are you okay? Really though?” Lila asked, pulling you out of your Taylor Swift induced trance. You lay your head on her shoulder, half trying to steady you head, half just wanting to be close to your friend. You smiled, knowing the exact answer to her question.

“I'll be alright, it's just a thousand cuts.”

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

Notes- I just wanted to thank everyone who’s been showing this story some love. I’ve truly been floored with the reception that this has received so far. I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as you did the others.

ALSO- I'm currently unsure what kind of format this story is going to go down. I personally prefer longer, slow burn fics but I’m not sure if I should go down that way or if people would prefer it to be a bit shorter. Let me know what you think!

Tag list -

@hiraethrhapsody @ironmaiden1313 @dudenhaaa27 @aundercover @dearlovelys @bicchaan @eugene-emt-roe @faithm120601 @ruleroftheuniverse @idkiwantchocolatee @simxican @reidsworld @icarus-nex @barnestatic @amalialeclerc @stargaryenx

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #max verstappen #lando norris #formula 1 #max verstappen smut #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles lecrelc #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x oc #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen x y/n #f1 fanfic #fanfic #f1 imagine

531 notes · View notes

anki-of-beleriand · 6 months

Text

Bad Liar ch. 5

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - past Shuri/Female!reader

Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - unrequited love - gay panic - fools in love - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: I'm back! Yes! I know it has been quite a while, life has been hard if I'm honest with you and these moments of peace had been sporacdic. Hope you like this new chapter.

This time around something happened that made R and Wanda come closer, yet far enough for them to deny whatever they want.

Thank you so much for reading, commenting, liking and reblogging the story guys! Remember that English is not my mother tongue, so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 5

Falling

Her life had been predetermined by her father the moment she had been born.

For as long as she could remember, Wanda had always been told what to do, how to act, what was expected of her. Even though her mother helped her get an education, as well as get into a career, her father had always made sure Wanda was straight as an arrow, always leading her to a ‘good man that could control and protect her’.

She found herself being introduced to Jarvis at some point, the son of one of her father’s business partners, and a classmate of hers all through the secondary, it had been decided that he would be her husband. Wanda sighed watching the picture she kept on her photo album, in there was Pietro always smiling and happy with his arm around her shoulders while Jarvis stood to her left with a possessive hold on her waist.

Pietro had never liked Jarvis, but it wasn’t his decision.

Thunder broke into the night, Wanda jumped startled watching outside the window while her eyes drifted momentarily to the stairs. She strained her ear trying to hear if the twins had woken up, but the silence of the house was only broken by the rain and the wind right outside. Wanda sat in silence and a half-lit room, the memories of her past coming over with overwhelming emotions that threatened to break her over once more.

She held onto her own strength, the smile of her children and the words of Hope and Natasha while the tears rolled down her cheeks.

“This is a long road, Wanda. You are not expected to heal overnight, but you do need to start somewhere.”

And that was precisely what she was doing, choosing the memories she wanted to keep and letting go of those she didn’t want to remember. The pictures in her photo album had change drastically the moment Jarvis showed up in her life. Soon the pictures of Pietro, her mother, and her friends disappeared, giving way to pictures of Jarvis filling up her youth invading her life in ways she never noticed until now.

She didn’t even have enough pictures of her and the twins, most of the pictures included Jarvis one way or another holding them, grabbing them, possessing them. Wanda closed the photo album feeling suddenly emotionally tired, her life had changed drastically ever since she ran from Jarvis and started working on her, her children, her career.

“One step at a time, Wanda. You just must give yourself some credit, you are doing fantastic and as long as you remember why you are doing this you will be okay.”

And Wanda knew why she was doing it.

She still had the scars, and the police report as well as the medical records of herself and Tommy. The bright, blueish light of lightning breaking into the night startled her again, this time around she redirected her eyes to the window and waited for the sound of thunder breaking into the night.

The lights in the house flickered and soon the hole house went black. Wanda stood up, her eyes going big as she heard the sudden cries coming from the twin’s room. In less than a minute she had run up the stairs entering their room, the light from the mobile helping her move through the house and the darkened room.

She was familiar with the scene welcoming her the moment she crossed the threshold of the twin’s room. Billy was holding onto Tommy, both boys had their eyes wide open though Tommy was looking drowsy and flustered while Billy was completely awake and disheveled holding onto his brother as he used to whenever they heard the screams of fighting and hitting in their parents’ room.

“Hey, guys, it’s okay, mommy is here.” Wanda approached the bed wrapping her arms around them, kissing their foreheads with a concerned frown. “It’s just rain, it will pass.”

Billy merely nodded but Tommy went from his brother to his mother, and it was then that Wanda noticed the shivering figure of Tommy, his labored breathing and the glassy eyes. Billy shot his brother a worried glance before turning his attention to his mother.

“Momma, I don’t feel good.” Tommy whispered snuggling closer to Wanda, the young woman placed her hand on the boy’s forehead feeling the warm emanating from his skin.

Panic rose inside Wanda’s mind, Tommy was burning and he wasn’t looking so good. She lifted her eyes and Billy was glancing at her with a frown adorning his face.

“Mommy?”

“Don’t worry, boys, mommy is here, okay?” Wanda cooed Tommy while trying to give Billy a reassuring smile.

Tommy closed his eyes whimpering lightly, while Billy chewed on his lower lip.

“Is Tommy okay?” He asked in a small voice, Wanda fixed the younger of the twins on the bed while helping Billy down and directing him to his own bed.

“He is baby, but he needs some space and medicine, right now he seems to have a fever and mommy needs to make sure he is okay.” Wanda explained pocking Billy on the nose, the young boy offered a weak smile, but his eyes went from Wanda and Tommy constantly.

“I’m going to grab something really quick from the bathroom, can you watch over him without going to close to Tommy?” Wanda inquired knowing the request was hard for the young boy, they had always been together through the fighting, through the punishment and even in sickness.

But Wanda didn’t have the luxury of having any help, and risking both twins to get sick was something she couldn’t afford emotionally and physically. Wanda brushed Billy’s hair placing a single kiss on his forehead. Billy scrunched up his nose, pursing his lips at the last request.

“Tommy needs me.” He mumbled crossing his arms.

“I know it’s hard, Billy, but mommy doesn’t want you catching whatever it is Tommy has.” She tried to explain to the upset kid. “Mommy needs you to be strong and help her out, can you do that for me?”

Billy pouted looking away while nodding his head curtly, Wanda hesitated for a moment before standing up, her eyes went to Tommy then back to Billy who was still looking away from her. With a heavy heart, the young woman made her way to the bathroom to look for something that might help Tommy.

In the darkened bathroom, Wanda soon realized she had never bother to buy any medicine or any kind of implements that might help in a situation such as this. She had gauze, alcohol, bandages, cotton balls, and a digital thermometer. She tried to look at her reflection, the tears she didn’t know she was shedding rolling down her cheeks while her heart beat hard against her ribcage. None of this, but the thermometer, would help her with Tommy, would her?

With trembling hands, Wanda grabbed the thermometer and some cotton balls, she let her hands wander inside the cabinet until she found a small cup. Making sure the water was not too cold, she wiped away her tears and putting on a strong façade grabbed everything and went back to the twin’s room.

The storm ranging right outside the house became almost unbearable, thunder and lightning filled out the emptiness inside her home and by the time she was helping Tommy out, Billy was holding onto his pillow watching wide-eyed as Tommy whimpered and complain while putting his blankets away.

The lights had not come out yet, and Wanda had a feeling that this might take some time because of the storm. She went right into action making sure Tommy had the thermometer while putting the cotton balls and the cup of water on the bedside table.

Billy watched from afar as Wanda fussed over Tommy while his brother cried softly, and tried to get away from her touch while still couching and sneezing, his hands grabbing his chest or head from time to time. The young boy had always been there ready to protect his brother, and he hated it when he knew there was nothing he could do.

His young eyes went from his brother to his mom, she was crying and Billy felt his eyes well up at the sight. For a brief moment, he turned his attention to the door almost expecting his dad to come over screaming enraged before hitting mommy and Tommy.

But it never happened, and relief washed over the young man that still felt anguish at the sight of his family suffering over without anything he could do. Billy glanced at the phone, then back at his mom and Tommy, he lifted his hand and wiped away his tears with his pajamas. The phone he had been holding for quite a while vibrated in his hand, Billy frowned glancing at the phone while tilting his head.

“Mommy.” He mumbled standing up, he made his way to Wanda holding onto the phone.

Wanda lifted her head, she tried to smile and Billy could see she was not doing okay.

“Tell me, sweetie.”

“Can you call a doctor?” Billy offered the phone to his mother, he could no longer hide the tears on his face and Wanda broke just a little at how mature he usually behaved at his age.

Wanda grabbed the phone putting him closer to her, her arms wrapped comfortingly around him before placing a kiss on his head. She thought about the proposal, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about it, but the rain outside and the lower temperatures could only be worse for the boy burning in fever at the moment. There was a moment of hesitation on Wanda’s part, she glanced at Tommy then at Billy before placing her eyes on the phone.

But before she could do anything, Tommy sat up moaning, grabbing his stomach.

“Mommy I don’t feel good…” And with those words, he leaned in and started throwing up.

Billy stepped back watching horrified as Tommy empty the contents of his stomach on the bed and the floor, and soon Wanda sprang into action taking the young boy to the bathroom, running and sharing comforting words to a now crying Tommy.

The mobile had fallen to the floor, and Billy grabbed the gadget in his hands hugging it closer to his chest not knowing what to do and how to help his mom and brother. It took him a moment, tears falling down his face, and he just checked the phone finding the only familiar name that could help him and his mommy in a moment like that one.

With a blurry eyesight, he pressed the dial button and finally started sobbing when he heard the familiar voice through the phone.

____________________________________________________________

There was not a single light on the streets.

The wind and water twirled in front of the windows, the bluish light of thunder breaking into the darkness from time to time, and the rumbling from thunder making the glass trembled echoing the strength of the storm.

You sipped some hot chocolate from your favorite mug, sitting down in the kitchen your mind played out the recent events that had shaken your life in ways you never thought possible. More than a week had passed since the school event in which you got a chance to see a side of your neighborhood you were not familiar with and finding her in the practice of your best friend.

Since then, your encounters with her have been sporadic. But each and every single one of them had the spark of teasing you had come accustomed to. It had become a habit to just bother her and rail her up, to watch her reaction to your piercing words and your constant teasing while getting some reaction out of her. To see her eyes going wide, and flashing that glare you had come to appreciate, or her retorts that were a defiance of your intelligence and your personality. A part of you knew the game you were playing was a dangerous one, another part didn’t even care.

That was, until your mind reminded you of one Carol Danvers that had been at your doorstep from the moment you decided to go back to the world.

The blonde woman had been there as a support, and also as someone that helped you escaped from the pain and the reality you were made to face. So much different than Shuri, Carol had always understood your priorities, and while at the beginning the both of you had agreed on sex with no strings attached, Carol had made it quite evident she was ready for more, and pretty much intended to wait for you to be ready as well.

Another thunder broke into the night.

You lifted your eyes wondering if perhaps letting Carol meet America had been the wisest thing to do, the both of them had hit it off right off the bat, and you knew that Carol had been more than happy about the meeting. She saw that as a step in the right direction, one of the steps to get you closer into a relationship you were still not so sure you wanted.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” The voice of America startled you awake from your daze, turning around you saw her completely dressed wearing a heavy jacket and boots as if she was ready to go out.

“What are you doing dressed like that?” You asked back raising a single eyebrow, the young woman came closer to you tilting her head with narrowed eyes.

“I’m going out.”

You snorted shaking your head, “you’re crazy if you think I’m letting you go out with this weather. Anyway, why the hell would you go out? This has something to do with Kate?”

America opened her eyes wide, blushing lightly while crossing her arms.

“Not everything that happens to me has to do with Kate.” She huffed indignantly, though you had to smirk at her reaction.

“As of late, everything has to do with her…” You replied teasingly. “You two should stop playing around and get together already.”

“Oh, shut up! You are one to talk, you and Carol had been playing the friends with benefits for far too long, you should give in already.” She retorted shooting you a defiant glance, you winced looking away while lifting your mug.

“Touché. I won’t say anything about Kate and you from now on.”

“Thank you.” America turned around but stopped when you placed a hand on her shoulder, your brows lifted in wonderment.

“Still, you’re not going out, though.”

America made a face lifting her phone while trying to come up with the best explanation.

“Look, Billy Maximoff just called me.” She started explaining, and as soon as that name came out you perked up. “He was really distressed, crying and asking for me to help him, something happened to Tommy and…”

“Well, where is his mom? Or his dad for that matter?”

It wasn’t so much the question, but the tone of voice you used to ask. Your voice broke a little, and your tone rose an octave making you clear your throat and look away from the scrutinizing gaze of your sister. America narrowed her eyes at you, tilting her head.

“There is no dad, and it seems as if Mrs. Maximoff needs help.” America trailed off before grabbing your hand. “Come with me, please, I think they really need help and I hated to think Billy is crying while Tommy and Mrs. Maximoff are…I don’t know…”

You made a face letting go of America while scratching the nape of your neck, your heart jumped in your chest while a tingling started in your abdomen at the thought of seeing Wanda Maximoff. It was strange, and unwanted, you shouldn’t feel anxious to see that insufferable woman, yet…

“What if Tommy is sick, Y/N? I know you can help them.” America pressed grabbing your hand. “Please, come with me and if it is something dumb, you can lash out at Mrs. Maximoff, I know it had become your favorite pastime as of late.”

“That’s not true!” You replied slightly offended. “She is the one lashing out at me!”

“Oh, please if I didn’t know better, I would say you like her!” America replied turning just on time to miss the flash of panic in your eyes.

“So, can you come with me?” This time around she used her most powerful weapon against you, and her puppy eyes with that familiar pout broke your resolution.

Rolling your eyes you nod, “okay, okay, I’m coming with you, let me grab something, I don’t want to catch a pneumonia just so you can go and help Maximoff’s brats.”

America smirked watching as you went running to your room, she knew even if your words seemed uncaring that you were hooked when she said the kids might be sick. America knew for you it was hard to not care, but sometimes it was harder to care.

*************

Your eyes soon found those of the small boy standing by the door with a blue blanket tightly pressed against his chest, he had tears in his eyes with his hair completely disheveled and a spark of mistrusted sent your way. America knelt down as soon as he opened the door, her face breaking into one of pure tenderness while she spoke to the boy in a soft reassuring tone.

“Hey, Billy, how are you buddy?”

“Tommy is sick.” He mumbled and was about to hug your sister when you stopped him from going any further.

His glare made you think of his mother, and you had to refrain yourself from snorting at the likeness between both of them.

“We are drench, kid, so hugging America is not a good idea.” The glare didn’t lose its intensity, but the boy pursed his lips and stepped away from your grasp.

America rolled her eyes at you, closing the door behind her and taking the jacket off of her. You followed her swiftly, while also taking off your boots and standing inside the house that had been Natasha’s at some point.

The place had changed ever since, though you could see the new inhabitants of the household decided to keep some of the furniture. You frowned stepping inside the place noticing there was no one but the kid on the first floor, turning around you could see America talking to the boy, this time around she wrapped her arms around him helping him up and walking towards you with Billy snuggling closer to her.

“Tommy is sick, and he and his mom are upstairs.” She commented, her lips broke into a sad smile. “He didn’t know what to do, but he thought if I was here his mom could take Tommy to the doctor.”

“You are quite the smart guy, Billy.” Your commented made Billy turned his attention to you, though his eyes had not softened he was now shooting curious glances at you. “However, with this rain, the best would be for Tommy and your mom to stay here…”

This time around you could see the crestfallen expression on the boy’s face, his eyes welled up again and your heart broke at the sight. You leaned in, winking at him reassuringly.

“But you and your family are lucky that I know a thing or two about being a doctor and may be able to help, would you like that?”

America watched as the boy tensed in her arms, his eyes opened lightly, and he glanced at you for the very first time with wonderment, and some hesitation.

“Really?” he turned to America to corroborate your words, and the young woman smiled at him.

“Yes, Billy, this is my sister Y/N.” She said, looking at you then back at the boy. “And she learnt a thing or two about children and how to take care of them.”

Billy pursed his lips glancing at you with a tilt of his head, “really? You help Tommy?”

“Really, I can help Tommy and your mommy as well.” You looked around the place before settling your eyes on America. “Why don’t you grabbed one of the torches you brough and I will go upstairs to see what’s going on.”

“Sure.” America turned to Billy pocking him on the nose. “Want some chocolate while we make sure Tommy gets better?”

You watched as both of them go to America’s jacket, and handing over the torch to Billy they made their way to the kitchen. With a sigh, you placed a hand on your head before turning your stare to the stairs; the place was completely silent, and you had to glance around while straining your ear to catch some noise. Without missing a beat, you walked down the hall until you found yourself in front of a door decorated with dinosaurs and the names of the twins in blue and red.

The room smelt like vomit, and it felt suffocating.

On the bed was a small boy whimpering, and leaning in was the young woman you had come to know as Wanda. There was a moment of hesitation before you knock on the open door, the sudden sound made Wanda jerked around her eyes wide open as they settled on you.

“Wha-what are you…who…?”

The young woman was looking terrible.

Her hair was out of place, and she had been wearing some sweatpants and a shirt that had strains of vomit all over them. The sight itself was quite incredible, you had seen the fire behind those green eyes, the power behind the woman’s words as well as her determination whenever you engaged her in a bickering contest. But the woman standing before you was lost, it was someone that didn’t know what to do or how to react, that was completely out of her element while holding onto a piece of sanity she clearly didn’t have.

It made you think of that time she had frozen in fear during the school’s event.

“You got any coherent thought behind those questions? Or do I have to guess what are you trying to ask?” Your lips curled into a smirk, the glint of anger flashing towards you as the woman strides to you her index finger lift poking on your chest, with her nostrils flaring.

“What the hell are you doing here?” There was desperation in her voice, and you had to wonder where the father of the kids was, where was her husband.

Was she alone in all of this?

“Your kid called, and America dragged me over to help.”

She blinked a couple of times, your words registering in her head while her brows knitted together. Her eyes locking with yours before she opened them in realization.

“Billy.”

“Yes.”

“America? Why…?” Now she looked even more confused than before, you shrugged suddenly very aware of the closeness of the woman and the foolishness of the situation.

“She is my sister, and your kid call her over to see if she could help you.” You shrugged trying to look uninterested in the whole situation. “You had a smart kid, Princess. Now, let me help you with your other kid.”

You stepped aside, and walked past Wanda who was struck by the door still registering your words. You looked around the place before kneeling down right beside the bed of Tommy. You placed your hand on his forehead, he was burning and your touch made him shiver telling you his skin was sensitive to the touch. It was quite evident he had thrown up, and his paleness confused itself with the flush of the fever. Your eyes moved to the thermometer then to the mess around you.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asked in a thin voice, your eyes were flashing angrily at her just as you stood up.

“Me? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You asked through gritted teeth. “He is burning up! What had you given to him? Do you know if he eaten something that upset his stomach? How long has he been like this?”

And just as you said this you stepped closer to her, the anger in you came by the sight of the state the room was in and by the obvious discomfort the boy was in. It was incredible to you that a mother could be this disinterested in their child. If your stepmother had been alive her first instinct would have been to take you or America straight to the hospital, bad weather or not, and your dad…

The anger running through your veins cooled down the moment your eyes fell upon the cowering form of Wanda. The young woman winced when you spoke to her, her body tensing and coiling in on itself, while she pressed her hands tightly to her chest. Her eyes clenched close, paled with a quivering lower lip, she was mumbling something you had not bothered to hear up until now.

“I just…I didn’t…I don’t have because I…” Wanda had been ready to answer your reproaches with the same annoying tone she used to address you until something in her triggered the memories she thought she had overcome. She was useless, a bad mother, she deserved punishment. She deserved her fate.

“I don’t know! I’m sorry, I…I failed, I failed, I’m a bad mother…”

You never expected her to break down the way she was doing, something in your chest stirred with sympathy and guiltiness at having been so hasty in your reaction. There was a moment of hesitation that was broken the moment the woman felt to her knees, this time around her arms above her head as if protecting herself from an invisible attack. You clenched your jaw, your eyes burning with horror at the thought that this was perhaps what Wanda was waiting from you.

You could hear her whimpers, turning around you could see Tommy crawling his legs closer to his body, he had been awake during the scene trembling on his bed with his lips turned downwards. You brushed your hair away before stepping closer to Wanda, kneeling down slowly but surely, your hand placed itself on her shoulder. Whatever story was behind her reaction, you decided right there and there, you would make things easier for her.

“Hey, Wanda, I’m sorry.” You whispered softly, comfortingly. “It was not my place, you are a good mother, you did the right thing, I just…I want to help…”

“Hey, Wanda, sorry I just…look, I came here to help. So…”

“Why? So you can humiliate me? Tell me…making me feel as If…” Wanda exploded pushing your hands away, her eyes filled with tears just as she glared at you. “I’m doing my best I just…”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You whispered, wincing at her words. “I was unfair, I…I just…I don’t like seeing little kids suffering, okay? And, Tommy, he really needs a doctor. Let me make it up to you, let me help you.”

“What? You are a doctor or something like that?” Wanda bit back, her glare never missing the intensity.

“Something like that.” You replied offering a half smile, Wanda furrowed her brows the situation draining her of any will or energy to fight over. “Let’s start by getting him really clean up, do you have anything we can give him?”

“What do you mean?” She asked in a small voice.

“Antibiotics, aspirin…something?” Wanda shook her head and you nodded curtly.

“Okay, that’s fine. You and him, you need a shower…”

“But…but he is sick, and his fever…”

“Needs to be controlled before it gets out of hand.” You replied helping the young woman stand up, you cocked your head, so your eyes fell upon the boy that was glancing at the both of you. “Let’s take him to the bathroom, I have some torches that may help you, but you need to give him a bath and help with his fever.”

Wanda nodded weakly making her way to the bed, Tommy was shivering with his lips parted. You leaned in, observing the rhythm of his breathing and the sweat on his face.

“Mommy?” He asked in a weak voice, Wanda cleared his face never missing the concern marks on her face.

“Is he…” Wanda started but soon trailed off.

“He is gonna be okay.” You smiled at her, standing up you placed a hand on her forearm. “Don’t worry, kid, everything is gonna be fine, can you tell me where it hurts the most?”

Tommy pouted hesitating before placing his hand on his head, you pursed your lips nodding. Wanda observed as you knelt down with your eyes scanning the small form of the boy.

“Does your tummy hurt still?”

“No.” Tommy put his legs closer to his chest, your eyes narrowed for a moment.

“Tommy, did you feel bad today at school?”

Tommy hesitated before nodding, “I didn’t want Billy worried because he was playing with Bard, and I’m always complaining.”

The boy explained in a thin voice, Wanda pressed her lips holding back her own tears. You offered the boy a smirk, shaking your head.

“I bet Bard was being a little brat about it, wasn’t he?”

Tommy opened his eyes before nodding, this time around he smiled.

“Yeah, the men in that family can be little brats.” You said winking at Tommy. “But they are good people, you don’t have to hide, Tommy, more so if you don’t feel okay.”

“I’m s’orry.” He lowered his gaze, “I don’t wanna be weak, daddy don’t like it when I complain.”

You decided to not comment on that, and you even ignored the sudden shift on Wanda’s posture, and the gasp she let out at Tommy’s words.

“Hey! Not feeling well is not about complaining, it’s about being brave enough to admit you need help.” You replied by pocking his nose. “Now, I need to help you and your mom with your fever, okay?”

Tommy nodded putting a thumb on his mouth, you stood up looking around the room before settling your eyes on Wanda. In a sudden movement, you went to pick up Tommy in your arms, the little boy snuggling closer to you.

“He does need to take a bath, and it’s going to be a little uncomfortable for him because the water must be lukewarm.” You stated firmly, Wanda shifted her position taking a good look at you. “Can you show me the bathroom?”

The bathroom was huge.

With a big bathtub at the far corner, you realized that with more light the situation would be easier for everyone. However, the place was big enough to make it work for the mother and the child, you placed Tommy on a small chair near the toilet.

“Okay young man, I need your help right now, think you can do it?”

Tommy opened his eyes wide, nodding while glancing at you then back at Wanda.

“Okay, I’m gonna bring some flashlights and you and your mom are going to take a bath.” You explained to him standing up while turning on the light on your mobile. Wanda had been silent up until then, she had been following your every move, hearing every single word you spoke to her and Tommy, and something inside her stirred grateful by your actions.

You glanced around the place helped with your mobile trying to locate the cabinet in which you might be able to locate some medication. Your eyes narrowed when the only thing you spot were gauzes, bandages, alcohol, and things that might help someone after a fall. Not in a situation like the one they were in at the moment. You turned to Wanda, but the young woman was making her best effort to look away from you.

“I’m going to get the bathtub ready, and you and Tommy can take a bath, so the both of you stop stinking.” You made a face winking at Tommy who giggled placing a hand on his mouth.

“I’m not…” Wanda started but soon trailed off when she heard Tommy’s giggle.

“You are.” You replied walking past her towards the tub. “And Tommy is too, right?”

Tommy hesitated before nodding, “I stink. I felt bad in my tummy and throw up.”

You made a face making sure the war was the right temperature, “that and you have a fever, Tommy. I will need some basic medication for you, but the water will help with the temperature, okay?”

“But, with his fever…” Wanda started, you stood up shaking your head.

“It will make him feel better, believe me.” You offered a kind smile and Tommy was already feeling ready to take the bath. “Let me go for the torches, and then I will bring some medication I have at home that may help with his symptoms.”

Wanda stood there nodding numbly, you hesitated for a moment before grabbing her hand, the tender touch jerked her awake and her eyes found yours in the dark.

“It’s gonna be okay, Wanda, trust me.” You whispered, and the young woman felt her stomach tingle at the closeness, her heart shivering at your words.

“I do.”

You nodded curtly running down the stairs and grabbing two torches from your jacket and that of America, your sister watched you with curiosity, but you paid her no mind and went back to the second floor. Fixing the flashlights on two strategic points in the bathroom, it took but a moment, but soon your eyes found the naked back of the boy and your whole body tensed, while your jaw clenched closed again, this time around the anger bubbling in your chest was like a time bomb ready to explode.

On his back, there were multiple scars, some of them looked fresh, some others were old enough to know he had been hurt several times in the past. Then, as soon as you saw this, your eyes drifted away to the young woman whose hands were tenderly taking the clothes off and helping Tommy into the bathtub. The way she moved, the way she worried about her children…

“It’s cold, mommy.” Tommy whimpered fighting a little, Wanda cooed the little boy trying to calm him down.

“I know baby, but really is not that cold, is just…it feels like that because you’re not feeling well.”

“I’m going to leave this here and you two can take as long as you want.” You commented furrowing your brows, your mind already working on trying to get the truth about Wanda from Natasha. “I will leave my phone here, if you want to put on Disney or Netflix for him.”

Wanda turned to you, her face breaking into one relief and grateful expression.

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Princess.” You winked at her, placing a hand on your eyes. “Tommy you are in charge of the phone and the movie, make sure your mom doesn’t put a boring movie.”

“Yeah.”

Wanda chuckled leaving Tommy for a moment to grab your mobile, her eyes soon found yours and her cheeks burn a little at the sudden warmness she felt near you. She grabbed the phone and you and her turned around at the same time, you closed the door behind you, confusion filling up your mind.

****************

“How is Tommy?” America asked as soon as you entered the kitchen, you glanced around the place before spotting the door leading to the basement, in your arms you were carrying the bed sheets and the pyjama.

“He is burning in fever, Wanda is bathing him, and probably will take a shower afterwards.” You turned to America pointing to the basement door. “I need wash this, but right now that room is a mess, can you help me cleaning it up and putting some fresh sheets on the bed?”

“Can I help?” Billy asked in a small voice rubbing his eyes, you offered him a small smile nodding.

“That would be fantastic, Billy, Tommy needs clean sheets to feel better, and your room smells yucky so let’s make sure he comes back to a clean room, okay?”

Billy perked up at this, he nodded eagerly smiling a little, “yeah, I help, come America.”

He grabbed your sister’s hand dragging her back to the stairs, you shook your head opening the basement door going downstairs to put everything in the washing machine.

By the time dawn came, the rain had stopped and Billy, Tommy and America were fast asleep in the twins room.

The lights had not come out yet, and you had a feeling it would take some time for the electricity to be restored again. The living room was early quiet, and Wanda was sitting on the sofa with a warm mug of hot chocolate in her hands. She had bags under her eyes, her hair was still wet but her clothes had changed into another part of sweatpants and an old college t-shirt.

Tommy’s fever had receded, and he was no longer suffering from headaches or tummy pain, he had even drunk some tea and eaten some crackers before falling asleep on his bed. Billy had been right on his bed with America playing some movies on your phone.

Wanda had been fussing around the three of them, she was busing herself stopping any intrusive thoughts that were threatening to invade her mind. She was confused enough, tired enough, scared enough to allow another set of concerns filled her life at the moment.

You sat down on the sofa, the young woman tensed but her eyes never drifted from the photo album still open at the coffee table. You glanced at the pictures, having taken a pick early into the night before settling your eyes on Wanda.

“What a night, eh?” Your voice broke the silence in the room, it didn’t carry the usual bite and teasing tone you had come to use with Wanda, instead it was filled with tiredness and curiosity.

“Yeah, I never stopped enough to thank you for the help.” She finally said tilting her head to glance at you. “I never thought your sister…well, that you and America…”

“Oh, yeah, I know.” You chuckled wriggling your eyebrows. “I bet it was quite the shock for you to discover we were sisters, eh?”

Wanda allowed herself a tiny smile, “what surprised me is that she is such a charming young woman, responsible, and quite smart. And you don’t seem to fit in that description.”

You laughed throwing your head back, while allowing the comment wash over you. Wanda observed your reaction with some surprised, but her lips curled into a please smile, soon she was also laughing shaking her head at the absurdity of her situation. Here she was, sitting on her living room with a woman she though annoying and a bitch, only to find a comfort she never thought possible.

“Nah, she is good sister, I’m the bad one.” You finally replied never losing your smile, Wanda pressed her lips together looking away for a moment.

“I don’t think you are the bad one.” You raised an eyebrow, your eyes shinning with wonderment. “You are a bitch, but you’re not bad.”

“Fair enough, Princess.” Once more Wanda rolled her eyes at the nickname, at some point she had thought it annoying and quite invasive, a way for you to railed her up. But now all she could think of was how much she liked the sound of it coming from you.

The silence that followed was filled with questions unasked, Wanda was not the woman you thought she was. She was alone in the city, raising two boys all by herself while working to educate the newest generation in a school that could provide her with great opportunities. Natasha had advocated for her, she had even given her the house in which she and Yelena had grown, offering her a spot in a school that didn’t take just anyone in.

What was her story?

What was hidden behind those emerald eyes that sometimes reflect sadness and loneliness?

You stirred awake turning around while knitting your brows together, you could not ask these questions. You shouldn’t be wondering anything about the woman sitting in front of you. Your heart should not beat so fast, and your abdomen shouldn’t host fluttering butterflies creating a void you were familiar with.

Bouncing your feet on the ground, you stood up walking around the living room. Wanda followed you with her eyes, her own mind playing games with her and what had happened that night. She kept telling her that she was grateful for your intervention, that whatever she was experimenting at the moment was the result of America and you coming in to help her in a situation she felt was slipping from her grasp. It had been so long since Wanda forged any kind of friendship that was not determined by Jarvis or her father, she was finally free to be herself and reached out to people by allowing herself to make new bounds.

That was the reason why Wanda felt confused by you at the moment, it wasn’t because you made her heart skip beat, or because you made her feel vulnerable. It wasn’t either because she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and coyness, or because her stomach had come to tingle whenever the both of you engaged in a bickering contest.

It was because she was learning how to make new friends.

That was all.

Wanda drown the voice inside her head, that traitorous voice that told her Y/N was the only one making her feel that way. Her other friends, the new ones, had never shake her world the way you had done so from day one.

“You should probably get some sleep.” Your voice broke Wanda’s trail of thoughts, she jerked around blushing profusely when she realized you were standing right beside her.

“I’m sorry, what?” She asked, and you snorted tilting your head.

“You should probably go to sleep, Princess.” You glanced at the watch on your wrist. “It’s three in the morning, I could keep watch for you, and I can wake you up as soon as the doctor is here.”

Wanda furrowed her brows at you, “doctor?”

“Well, I figured we need an expert to watch over Tommy, so I asked in a favour.” You replied shrugging, “hope you don’t mind.”

Once more, Wanda felt warmth all over, her heart melting at the gesture.

“No, I…thank you.” She took the last sip from her chocolate before yawning, her eyes drifted to the stairs then towards you. “If you don’t mind…I prefer to stay here…can we talk or something?”

You hesitated for a moment; it was quite evident Wanda was tired but she was stubborn enough to keep herself going if necessary. With a sigh, you nodded curtly sitting down on your previous spot of on the sofa.

“So, what do you wanna talk about?” You finally asked after the silence became too much, Wanda shrugged with her eyes falling upon the pictures.

It was still too soon, and you…The young woman turned towards you, she didn’t want to scare you off with her torrid story. She didn’t want you to know about her past, not yet, not like this; so straightened herself up she asked the safest question she could think off.

“Tell me how come you end up with such an amazing sister as America?”

_____________________________________________________________

The constant buzzing of conversation sneaked into her senses; she knew she had to wake up. An internal alarm was telling her she was needed, but her body and the recent activities had left her drained of energy necessary to open up her eyes.

Besides, she was warmth, and comfortable in the place she was in.

For brief moment she gave herself to the feeling, and her mind was slowly but surely losing the battle with her wakeful state until her ears caught the sound of a familiar voice.

“Thank you for coming, Strange, I know that this is not your specialty but…” You stated offering a tired smile to the man standing before you.

“Nonsense, I will be more than happy to help you out and that’s why I brought my wife.” Strange stepped aside and soon Christine came in rolling her eyes, on her hand the small duffel bag she used to carry with her everywhere.

“Hey, Y/N.” You dropped your shoulders walking towards her and wrapping your arms around her.

“Christine.” The older woman shot Strange a quick glance before wrapping her arms around you returning the hug.

“Miss me much?” She asked teasingly, you nodded looking away sheepishly.

“Like you wouldn’t imagine.”

“That’s why you haven’t called as of late?” The question came like a reproach but without any bite. You winced placing a nervous hand on the back of your head.

“I’ve been busy.”

“So I was told.” Christine waved her hand closing the door behind her, her eyes drifted around the place with curiosity before settling on you. “Where is the patient?”

“He is upstairs with America and his brother…”

“I am guessing you are the mother.” Doctor Stephen Strange stepped closer to the redhead now sitting on the sofa, her cheeks wearing pillow marks and her hair completely dishevelled.

“I…I am…Hi, sorry I just…” Wanda stood up feeling a little foolish and out of place, Stephen smiled kindly at her stretching his hand.

“No, please, we heard it was a rough night.”

“Yeah, it…it was I just…” Wanda stuttered kicking herself for being such an idiot, she dropped her shoulders wincing lightly. “I guess I need coffee, can I offer you something to drink?”

Christine chuckled waving her hand, “don’t worry, dear, I think coffee sounds perfect…”

“Good then, you and Wanda can go upstairs and Stephen and I will make the coffee and something to eat for everyone, would you like that?” You turned to Wanda who was still far too sleepy, and far too lost to said anything at all, you had taken charge of everything so it seemed and a part of Wanda was thankful for that.

“Yes, that…that sounds good…”

“Okay then, if you lead the way.” Christine took on a professional stance, her tone of voice and ever her glance changed, and as soon as they started making their way upstairs she started asking questions about the twins to Wanda.

“She was happy you called.” Strange stated, sitting down on a chair in the kitchen, you hummed moving around the unknown kitchen trying to locate the coffee maker, and some instant coffee.

“I was happy you guys could make it.” You replied never once looking back at your dad’s best friend.

“So, is she your new girl?”

You almost drop the mug in your hand, your eyes opening wide at the sudden declaration and Stephen merely smirked at your reaction.

“NO!” He winced, and she rolled your eyes trying to get a hold of your voice. “No, no we are neighbours, America babysits for her from time to time.”

“America has a job?” Stephen scrunched up his nose, you chuckled shrugging.

“Yeah, she took it after declaring she felt bored out of her mind and this would teach her some responsibility.” You pursed your lips. “She is right, you know? And, well…Wanda seems to need all the help she can get.”

“I see.” Stephen stood up walking towards the fridge and putting some bacon and milk, going around the place to help you out. “And you…and her…”

“Neighbours.” She stated curtly.

“Right, because you are dating Danvers, right?”

Now he was sounding like a confused parent that was no longer up to date with his child’s demeanours. You sighed rolling your eyes, knowing the questions came for the genuine interested of the man, and not because he wanted to be noisy or intrusive. He was like an uncle to you, and after your parents had died all those who had been part of your parents circle had taken it upon themselves to watch over you and America.

“I’m fucking Carol, there is a difference.” You replied slightly defensively, Stephen made a face shaking his head.

“You are dating her, America told us you invited her over for dinner and that she met her formally this week.” Stephen shot you a triumphant smile, and you could only roll your eyes at that.

Of course, America would mention this to everyone who wanted to hear her.

“I’m not dating Carol, but I did invite her to dinner and introduce her to America.”

“You know it’s okay to move on, right?” Stephen inquired again, pressing the topic you had tried to evade for as long as your stubbornness allowed it.

You stopped what you were doing, Stephen continued cutting the bacon and serving the eggs and the coffee alongside a cup of warm tea and some crackers. He waited for your answer, hearing the noises of muffled conversation coming from the second floor.

“I’ve been going out with her, and she seems nice, and quite found of me, and the sex it’s incredible and…”

“But you don’t feel anything?”

You sat down shaking your head, “I like her, and of course I feel affection for her, but…”

Stephen nodded in understanding placing the cup of coffee in front of you, he sat by your side taking the tea in his hands.

“I understand.” He blew on the mug before speaking again. “Why do you continue with the relationship, though?”

“I was hoping I would feel something, but I know it’s not fair to her…to me.” You snorted taking a long sip from the black beverage. “I guess that’s why I have been running from you.”

“Ah, the wisdom of the older generation.” Stephen winked at you leaning in. “It’s okay to feel confused, and to want something, Y/N. What it is not correct is to play with someone that may be interested in you.”

“I know.”

Stepehen made a face satisfied with the ending of the conversation, then his eyes drifted to the newcomers that were talking animatedly about some movie. America’s eyes lit up and she soon run towards Stephen hugging him tightly.

“Uncle Strange!”

“Hey, kiddo!” Billy stood unsure at the entrance of the kitchen, he glanced first at America then a Strange and finally at you.

You tilted your head patting the chair beside you.

“Want something to eat, Billy?” He nodded approaching the chair, helped by you he fixed his body to move closer to the counter.

“So, young man, America tells me you are one of the men of the house, is that correct?” Stephen asked serving him a cup of orange juice, Billy opened his eyes big nodding tentatively.

“Perfect, tell me, do you like eggs with bacon or toast with jam?”

Billy pursed his lips thinking hard before talking, “toast with jam.”

“Good selection, my good sir, let’s eat then.”

____________________________________________________________

Saturday night came faster than you thought possible.

Christine and Stephen had spent most of the day with you and America, and most of the morning with Wanda and the twins. You had left your neighbours house with a heavy heart, thought secure in the knowledge Tommy would be just fine and that Wanda and Billy would be okay.

The afternoon had been quite the familiar time, in which America had enjoyed the company of the couple while talking about school and her aspirations for the future. The topic of Carol was not brought again into conversation, but you knew that Christine was thinking the same as Stephen and that most of that conversation had been thanks to America’s own concern.

You took a quick shower before getting inside your bed, your phone had been forgotten most of the day and by the time you finally got to see it the first message that appeared in there was that of Carol.

“Hey, just wondering if you are okay, hope you have an amazing day, Y/N. thinking of you.”

You turned to the side, your mind playing around what had happened in the last day and a half. The twins, Wanda, the conversations and the things that were left unsaid. You knew deep inside your heart you needed to talk to Carol, with a trembling hand you went to write to her but, at the last minute your finger drifted to another chat. A new one.

“Hey, Princess, how are the twins?”

_____________________________________________________________

#fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxreader #imagine wanda maximoff #female reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #reader #Wanda Maximoff/Female! reader

209 notes · View notes

roseghoul26 · 1 month

Text

Chapter 2: Grieving For The Living

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur)

Author's Note: i feel like i gotta say that i do not condone cheating…. but arthur morgan <3 also, this story does describe a very emotionally manipulative and abusive relationship, so please be mindful when you’re reading. the way the husband treats the reader is not right, in any instance, and cannot be tolerated.

Taglist: @ultraporcelainpig @lokiofasgard12

Chapter List

The first thing you noticed when he turned was that he had blue eyes.

Strikingly blue eyes, the kind that got lighter when the sun hit them, dazzling like diamonds. They widened comically when they saw you, a flash of panic crossing his features. So he did remember you.

You smiled warmly at the group of men. “Good mornin’, gentlemen.”

The bearded man responded with a ‘good morning’, and the well dressed one walked forward to meet you, extending a hand out to you. He was practically oozing with charisma, kissing the back of your hand when you grabbed it with a saccharine smile. “Well, good morning, ma’am,” he drawled, and you swore you saw the bearded man roll his eyes behind him.

“You remember Hans?” Leigh asked, and the man holding your hand led you into the small circle that had formed at the base of the stairs, bringing you into the conversation. “This here’s his wife. Been married for, what is it, two years now?”

You nodded, hiding the sadness that sentence made you feel.

Leigh continued on. “Did y’all know she’s the daughter of the tobacco farmers up north, the Van Buren’s. Wealth practically runs in her blood!”

That seemed to get the mens’ attention, but the black haired one seemed especially interested. You couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped you; of course they only cared about your wealth. You highly doubt Leigh even knew your first name. All that you are to him is an extension of your husband.

“Is that so?” The black haired man asked, turning to look at you. Begrudgingly, you nodded, and you watched the three newcomers pass looks to each other.

Leigh, ever the observant man, didn’t notice this. He continued to talk about your family, how it shocked everyone when you and Hans got married, and other things that you blocked out. Your attention was solely on the man beside you, the one with the hat and blue eyes.

Much like his voice, you weren’t expecting to see that beautiful of a face under the bandana. He was rugged, sure, but still quite pleasant to look at. God, why did he have to be handsome? He wasn’t the kind of handsome that you’d see in the high reaches of society, or plastered on a giant sign. No, he was the kind of handsome that you’d see from across the street, haunting your thoughts after one glance.

With tanned skin and a small clustering of freckles across his cheeks, he had a short beard, trimmed and very clearly taken care of. His nose was crooked, a broken nose that was never set right, and the slight creases on his face told you that despite appearing to be on the younger side, he had a tough life. A black bandana similar to the one he wore last night tied around his neck, and he had swapped his blue shirt for a red one, the top two buttons undone. You flushed when the bandana shifted and exposed his chest to you, tufts of hair peeking out.

Leigh was still talking, spinning some tall tale of sorts, you’re sure, but you cut him off. “What did you say their names were, Sheriff Gray?” You knew damn well that he hadn’t introduced them to you, but you were tired of hearing about your own life from the lips of a liar.

The sheriff faltered for a moment, before gesturing to the black hair man beside him. “This here’s Dutch,” he began, and you reshook his hand. The once too-sweet smile had turned into something more cunning, making you feel like you’d just walked into some elaborate trap.

Trying to not feel too worried, you turned to the next man as Leigh introduced them. “This is Bill.” Like with Dutch, you shook his hand.

“It’s a pleasure, ma’am,” you heard Bill say, and you smiled politely.

Finally, Leight turned to the final person in the small group, the man’s whose eyes, you noticed, had barely left you during the entire discussion. “And this is Arthur.”

Arthur. The name echoed in your mind as you shook his hand. He was staring at you warily, and you realized that he had no idea if you knew who he was or not. It almost made you laugh. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all, gentlemen.” Arthur nodded, tipping his head forward slightly in greeting.

“Now, forgive me if this sounds rude,” you began, “but what’re you three doin’ here in Rhodes?” It had become apparent quite quickly that Dutch had some sort of authority or power over the two other men, and you figured that he must’ve dragged them along to the town.

Leigh spoke before the three others could. “These men here are goin’ to be the new deputies of Rhodes, Mrs. Kerrigan.”

You had to bite back laughter. Sure, Leigh was dedicated to protecting Rhodes, but he couldn’t see a ploy even if they spelled it out for him. “Oh, are they now?” If only Leigh knew that one of his new deputies had broken into your house last night. It was hardly noticeable, but Arthur stiffened his posture after you spoke.

Leigh nodded, a proud smile on his face. “The town's in safe hands now. Well, not that it wasn’t before…” Leigh quickly backtracked.

“Do you think they’ll be able to help me with my problem?” You asked almost conspiratorially, making sure to keep an eye on Arthur.

“Your… problem? Mrs. Kerrigan, I had no idea you were having-”

“It’s new,” you cut him off again. “See, I’ve been havin’ issues with break-ins lately. Normally we scare them off, but I’d like for someone to scare them off permanently, you know?”

It was Dutch who responded this time, nodding earnestly. “We can take care of that, don’t you worry, ma’am. How ‘bout one of you boys-”

“I’ll do it.” For the first time since you joined in the conversation, Arthur spoke.

The bearded man, Bill, tried to interject, but Arthur silenced him with a look.

With an expression that said that he expected Arthur to do this, Dutch clapped his hands together, before turning his attention to you. “Now, Mrs. Kerrigan, Arthur’ll fix this problem of yours in no time, mark my words. In the meantime, I would love to get acquainted with your husband.”

Of course. “He’s in the bank right now,” you explained. “You can wait outside for him, but I can’t tell you how long that’ll be.”

“I don’t mind waitin’. Bill, come with me to meet Mr. Kerrigan. Arthur, you go ahead and talk with this wonderful woman and see if you can’t solve her troubles.” You felt Dutch clasp your hand between his. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kerrigan. I sincerely hope this isn’t the last time we meet.”

“I hope so, too.”

Dutch began to walk away soon after, and after nodding to you one last time, Bill followed after Dutch, the two of them heading to the bank side by side. You knew Hans was gonna get quite a fright when he left; two heavily armed men demanding to speak with him. You almost wanted to stay outside just to watch.

It was only you, Leigh, and Arthur remaining, and the sheriff quickly excused himself to the office, offering you a quick ‘have a good morning’ before disappearing, finally leaving you and Arthur alone.

Glancing up at him, he looked back expenctantly, like he was just waiting for you to run back inside and spill everything to Leigh. He was visibly stunned when you turned away from the office and started heading back to the store, gesturing for Arthur to follow you. Funnily enough, you were able to hear his spurs this time, clinking against the dusty ground with each step as he followed behind.

“You really ought to wear a less recognizable hat,” you teased once he was close enough, turning your head over your shoulder to look at him. You watched him take his hat off, examining it with scrutiny. Golden browns locks tumbled freely, more softer looking than you anticipated. Everything about this man surprised you.

“So you did recognize me,” Arthur muttered, and you laughed.

“No offense, but I think anyone in my shoes would be able to recognize you.”

Scoffing, you watched Arthur plant the hat back on with a little too much force than was necessary. He moved up so that he now walked alongside you, keeping a good foot between your bodies. “Your voice also gave you away,” you added, smiling when exasperation clouded his face.

“I know that. I wasn’t plannin’ on speakin’ last night, but I wasn’t plannin’ on havin’ someone run into me.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be breakin’ into people’s houses in the middle of the night.”

He couldn’t come up with a response to that, so he just shook his head, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You got me there,” he sighed. “So why didn’t you turn me in?”

“I’m askin’ myself the same question.”

“Well, if you change your mind,” he moved further away from you, keeping his hands up, “I won’t stop you from runnin’ straight to the sheriff.”

The rational and sane people would, first, not even be in the situation, having already turned Arthur in, but secondly, would also be taking him up on his “offer”. You decided that at that moment you were neither rational nor sane, so you continued to make your way to the general store.

After a few more beats of tense silence, you finally reached the entrance. Turning with your hands on your hips, you fully faced Arthur, within distance to touch him if you so tried. Up close, it really put his size into perspective, the man towering a good couple of inches above you. He was broad shouldered, with a similar body type to someone who worked on the farms, which was a complete opposite of the frail physique of Hans.

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” you stated, and you heard him hum in agreement. “Let’s start over.” Sticking out your hand for him to shake, you introduced yourself with your name. Not Mrs. Kerrigan. Not Miss. Van Buren. Just you.

Your name sounded awfully nice coming from him, you realized as he repeated it back to you. “Arthur Morgan,” he responded, giving your hand one last shake in his much larger one before letting go.

“A pleasure, Mr. Morgan.”

“Call me Arthur,” he responded, that raspy drawl music to your ears.

“Alright, Arthur. Then you don’t get to call me Mrs. Kerrigan. At least, in private,” you added with a glance around. There was no one else around, everyone either far enough away to not hear, or preoccupied with something else. For the moment, you didn’t have to keep up appearances.

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded playfully, and you rolled your eyes. Walking in, you pretended to not feel the way your heart fluttered.

The bell chimed as the door swung open, and a familiar face greeted you as you entered, Arthur following in behind. “Good morning, Mr. Banks.” So much for not having to keep up appearances.

Balding with a large handlebar mustache, A.J. Banks had been the sole operator of the general store in Rhodes for as long as you could remember. “Hello, Mrs. Kerrigan!” He chirped out, eyes nearly disappearing behind a smile. Out of all the shop owners in Rhodes, he was your favorite. “Who’s this?” You heard him ask, gesturing to the man behind you.

“His name’s Arthur. Leigh’s appointed him as a deputy.”

Mr. Banks hummed with indifference. If it wasn’t about the feud between the Grays and Braithwaites, or about the general store, then he didn’t care. “Well, you know where everything is. Holler if you need somethin’!” And with that, he disappeared into the storage room behind him, once again leaving you and Arthur alone.

“You’re quite popular,” you heard Arthur comment, and you shrugged as you picked up one of the sacks to fill with goods, slinging your own bag over your shoulder.

“I mean, I’ve known both of them for a good while now…”

“I ain’t just talkin’ about them.” Arthur stood beside you, absentmindedly examined various canned goods on the shelves, putting them back with thinly veiled disgust. “Probably every head on the street turned when you walked by. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that.”

“I try to block them out,” you admitted, grabbing a few assorted cans of fruits and vegetables. “I have to.”

Arthur didn’t respond to that, and so you moved to the fresh produce, grabbing a variety of items, not really paying much attention to it. You had no idea if you actually needed any of these items, but it would be suspicious if you went to the store claiming you needed items and then leaving with hardly any.

You could feel Arthur’s eyes on you as you shopped, likely teeming with questions, but he kept his mouth shut. “Do you need anything?” You asked, nearly laughing when you realized how similar it was to the question you asked last night.

Arthur also seemed to realize this too, and you heard him chuckle, barely even loud enough for you to hear. “Nah, I’m good.”

You were about to let it go until an amber colored bottle caught your attention. It wasn’t the best whiskey in the world, but something told you that these men didn’t drink alcohol for the taste. Without a second thought, you snatched it up, adding it to your now heavy bag. It was a short walk to the store counter, but you still felt your arms hurt as you brought it over, having to use both to carry it, and they hurt even more so when you lifted it up onto the counter.

The loud noise alerted Mr. Banks, who appeared around the corner within seconds. As he began to count up the total, you leaned against the counter facing him. “So, would you say my problem is solved now?”

Arthur barked out a laugh, and you watched the corners of his eyes crinkle up as he genuinely, truly smiled. It was a divine sight, one that had you sucking in a gasp. “I think so, darlin’.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard someone talk to you like that, voice dripping with pure honey.

So that he wouldn’t see how dark your cheeks had gotten, you turned back toward the counter. In your brain, you were scolding yourself. You were a married woman, for God’s sake. You should not be acting this way over another man. Even if you really didn’t love your husband, and he wanted as little as possible to do with you, you were still married to him. That had to mean something, right?

But you still found that you would do anything to hear him call you darling again, if not to feel like you were truly beloved by someone.

Mr. Banks reading out the total snapped you from your solitary pity-party. $17.35. Sliding him five five dollar bills from your bag, you went to try and pick up your sack of goods, but Arthur stepped in before your fingers could even touch the rough fabric of the bag. “Looks like you gave him a bit too much,” Arthur nodded toward the cash that Mr. Banks was now putting into the register.

“No, I know, but thank you. Have a great day, Mr. Banks,” you called out as you headed out the door, a very confused Arthur following behind, holding the sack of goods effortlessly with one hand.

“You’re a strange woman,” you heard Arthur say behind you as you began to walk toward the carriage that was still parked outside of the bank. You had never been called strange before. You were always the perfect one, the golden star, the prime example of what every eldest daughter should be. It was a mask, you knew that, forced to put on a false personality in order to charm and amaze.

For the first time in a very long time, you had been yourself, cracking jokes and talking back and everything that high society hated. Even though you’d been doing it for less than fifteen minutes, it felt like an impossible weight had been lifted from your chest. And it was all thanks to the man that broke into your house.

What an odd turn of events.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Arthur.” Now that you were closer to the carriage, you were able to see that it was currently empty, except for the driver who sat atop it who tipped his hat at you when you got close. Opening the small storage area attached to the back of the carriage, you gestured for Arthur to set the bag there, the wood creaking when he set it down. “Thank you, Arthur.”

“It’s no problem at all, Mrs. Kerrigan.” And he remembers things, too. Where did this man come from?

Before you could forget, you grabbed the whiskey bottle from the top of the bag, and you presented it to Arthur. “It ain’t much of a surprise, but I figured our new ‘deputies’ might like a little gift.” In the back of your mind, you had an inkling of suspicion that Arthur and his presumed friends weren’t actually going to be deputies, but like before, appearances need to be kept up.

“Well, ain’t that mighty kind of you,” his voice went lighter, moving to take the bottle from you gently. “Thank you.” You tried not to react when his fingers brushed against yours, sending shocks through your body.

“Of course. It’s-”

Loud laughter from the bank had you both turning, then having to move around the carriage to see what the commotion was all about. Dutch and Bill were laughing heartily, with a very confused yet entertained Hans chuckling lightly. You had to give them props; it was hard to make him laugh.

Dutch saw you first, becoming you over with a broad wave of his hand. Hans glanced over to where he was looking, and as soon as those dull eyes landed on you, you felt that mask creep back up. Your once natural smile turned forced, and you quickly made your way over to the men, leaving Arthur to walk up slowly on his own.

You stood beside Hans, and even though he didn’t touch you, you felt your muscles stiffen as if someone had just rested their hand on your back. “Hello, dear.” You heard Hans say.

“Hello.” Your voice that was just filled with joy sounded lifeless.

“Did you get what you needed from the store?” You nodded, and as Arthur sauntered close, his eyes scanned over you, like he was searching for the person he was just talking to. “Have you met these fine men?”

“Leigh had the pleasure of introducing us,” Dutch piped in, his dark eyes narrowing as they bounced between you and Hans.

Please don’t question why I was so close to the Sheriff's Office, you repeated in your mind, relieved when he didn’t speak.

“Where’d you get that, Arthur?”

Everyone’s eyes followed where Bill pointed, and you felt a wave of nausea-inducing anxiety crash over you. He was pointing at the whiskey bottle in Arthur’s hands, and the man holding it shifted uncomfortably, not expecting everyone to suddenly be watching him with wide eyes. “This?” He asked, holding it up slightly.

Bill had a disbelieving look on his face. “You bought whiskey, Morgan? Out of everythin’ you could’ve gotten-”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t have bought it yourself,” he huffed. “It was a gift from her!” Arthur explained, gesturing to you with the bottle.

Now it was your turn to have everyone’s eyes on you. A majority of them were kind, gratitude filling them as they thanked you. You could barely hear them. Your ears were ringing too badly, and you could feel holes forming where Hans stared at you.

“Is that true?” Hans’ voice was even. Why was it always even? It would be so much better if he just screamed at you, like anyone else would.

“Yes,” you whispered, looking down at the dusty skirts of your dress.

“I can pay you back,” you heard Arthur offer, and if you weren’t so mortified, you would’ve thanked him. But even you knew that it wasn’t about the money. Not this time.

Hans ignored him, continuing his verbal reprimanding of you. “I never said you could buy gifts. You were only allowed to get what we needed for the home. I-” he sighed, “I don’t know how long it's going to take for you to learn.”

Like I’m some damn dog. “I’m sorry,” was what you said, keeping your head down. Because of this, you missed another set of looks the three men swapped, some amused, and some angry.

Hans sighed again. “Go wait for me in the carriage. Besides, a lady shouldn’t be sitting in on conversations about business.”

Like a child being sent into timeout, you were cast away. Shame burned your cheeks, and you felt embarrassed tears threaten to spill from your eyes. Humiliation wasn’t something new when it came to Hans, but the sting of it hadn’t dulled over the past two years.

You didn’t even look up at Arthur as you walked past, not wanting to know what he thought of the whole situation. You didn’t know what would be worse to see in his eyes, pity or enjoyment. You heard Hans make a comment at your dispense, and you heard only two voices make any sort of responding statement.

Finally reaching the carriage, you slumped your head against the door, not quite wanting to get in yet. At least out here you felt like you could breathe. You were so caught up in your own emotions that you didn’t hear the sound of Arthur’s spurs as he approached you. “Mrs. Kerrigan?”

You jumped, and you turned to face him, the tears delicately holding themselves in your eyes falling because of all the movement. “Yes, Arthur?” You quickly wiped away the falling tears, and you took a few steps away from the carriage and towards him.

“Are you… alright?” He cringed at his own question, as it was blatantly obvious that you weren’t. Still, you found his concern endearing, and you smiled as best you could.

“I will be. It ain’t the first time,” you chuckled humorlessly, and you saw a flash of something in his eyes. “You’d think I would’ve grown thicker skin by now.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

You sighed. “I know.”

“So why are you-”

“I can’t go.” You shut down that question fast, the one that you pondered every single day. “It’s just… I can’t.” You weren’t about to dump your issues on the poor man.

Luckily he seemed to realize there was a bigger situation at play, but you could tell he wasn’t happy about it. You were about to say something until you heard the closely approaching voice of Hans, with Dutch adding in his own points intermittently.

Faster than you could register, Arthur was slinking behind you, opening the carriage door for you, and extending a hand for you to take. The whiskey bottle sat upright beside the rear wheel, setting it down to help you.

Even though Hans had done this for you hundreds of times, this felt completely different. It felt like it came from genuine want rather than a role he had to play, the role of the doting husband. As you set your hand in his rough palm, you felt those same sparks again, and you swore he felt them too.

Once you were situated back in the carriage, you watched him pick up the whiskey bottle before handing it back to you with an apologetic look on his face. “Keep it,” you held your hand up, “I’ll be happy if I know you three are enjoyin’ that tonight. And, for what it’s worth,” you glanced behind you, making sure your husband still wasn’t in the vehicle, “it was nice meeting you while you weren’t trying to rob me.”

Another one of those beautiful smiles graced his face, and it momentarily made you forget your woes. “I can say the same, darlin’.”

Your heart soared.

“If you don’t mind me askin’,” you said quietly, “why were you at our house last night?”

“Money.” He shrugged half-heartedly. “I was told there’d be no one home, too.”

“Well, I’m afraid whoever told you that is a liar.”

He scoffed. “You think?” The two of you exchanged light laughter. “I guess I can’t complain, though.”

“Why’s that, Arthur?”

“Because-”

The other carriage door opening caused Arthur to fall quiet, giving you a small smile before taking a step back. “See you later.” You kept it from sounding like a question, but Arthur still nodded. And with that, Arthur closed the door, the air becoming oppressive as soon as it latched shut. Keeping your gaze averted, you pretended to look out the window, rather than on Arthur, eyes locked there until he became a blur on the horizon.

You swore he did the same.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The ride back home was done in complete silence.

It was awkward and tense and you wanted nothing more than to just curl into a ball on the carriage floor. You kept your eyes locked on the window, even when Arthur was long out of sight, not able to bring yourself to look at Hans.

It wasn’t until you were halfway back when he finally spoke, clearing his throat before doing so. “I’ll be leaving in a few days.”

That had your head turning, looking at him with confused eyes. It wasn’t unusual for him to leave, gone for days or weeks at a time, but it was never this sudden. “Oh… where?”

“Tumbleweed.” He practically spat out, clearly not excited to go. You wouldn’t be either, if what you heard about it was true. It was practically run by outlaws, and with cruel desert weather that inhabited even crueler animals. But the thing that struck you as odd was that Tumbleweed was practically a ghost town, falling into ruin a few years back. You had no idea why he would even be going there.

You didn’t bother to ask, knowing he wouldn’t give you an answer. So you fell back into tense silence, relieved when you saw the familiar woods surrounding your house. When the carriage came to a halt, Hans left first, and like he always did when he was upset at you, he left you to get out on your own, furthering the humiliation you felt.

The chittering of animals helped to distract you as you got out, the feel of the soft dirt beneath your shoes further helping to ground you. Grabbing the goods from the back, you said a soft thanks to the driver before making your way inside, with some difficulty, the bag awkwardly heavy. And to think Arthur was carrying it with such ease.

Hans was already upstairs, and you heard the door to his office click shut. Standing in the entrance way, you almost let the bag drop, but you carried it over to the nearby kitchen counter. You dumped it and your personal bag unceremoniously there, and some of the produce rolled out, but you didn’t care.

After grabbing a bottle of wine, you slumped one of the chairs in the attached dining room. Alcohol was never in shortage here, and Hans didn’t drink wine, so you didn’t have any fear of being reprimanded again.

The cork went missing, but you doubted you were going to need it. Pressing the bottle to your lips, you took a hearty drink, the taste of raspberries and orange barely noticeable to you. In your mind, you were going back over the trip to Rhodes, washing away the shame you felt with expensive wine.

But despite your embarrassment, you found that you couldn’t stop thinking about Arthur. Everything about him stuck out in your mind; his eyes, his voice, his body, his smile.

Surprisingly, you felt a bit of guilt, causing you to take another big sip. You felt guilt for thinking about the other man like this, because despite your tense relationship, Hans was still your husband. You’d never be unfaithful to him… but not out of any moral reason. You didn’t want to risk losing something good for your family.

But you also felt guilty because it felt lecherous to think of Arthur like this. Here you were, grasping at the first man to show you any semblance of human connection like a fool. He wasn’t there to be your escape; he didn’t exist to solve your problems.

You took another swig.

And another.

And more, until the bottle was empty, and a pleasant buzz filled your senses, your head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. Getting up was a challenge, and you used the counter for support as you made your way to the goods, slowly putting them away.

But despite your pitiful attempt of drowning your thoughts, your treacherous mind kept going back to the rugged man, and those blue-eyes that had butterflies erupting in your stomach. It was almost juvenile, the way you had a crush on this man, and you’d only met him once.

Well, twice, but you wouldn’t consider the first time a proper meeting.

A small piece of paper fell out the bag, falling like a feather would, before it settled near your foot. Bending down, you felt the blood rush to your face as you did so, and you investigated the paper. It was clearly ripped out of a journal of sorts, and the handwriting was quick, like whoever wrote it only had a few seconds to do so.

Only two words adorned the page. Thank you.

More blood rushed to your face. You were so screwed.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

98 notes · View notes

scrapyardwarlocks · 1 month

Text

This is my Braime rant.

Oh, hello there. Yes, it's been a few years, and I'm still thinking about the GOT finale. When people talk about it, it's mostly to roast Bran getting the throne or Daenerys turning evil because of a bell tower (both extremely valid), BUT I am forever the most salty about the way Jaime and Brienne's story ended. Like...????????

First, I must acknowledge that there are the Tormund x Brienne shippers. I suppose their relationship could’ve gotten more emotionally complex if given the chance, but we only see Tormund horny boy howling because of Brienne's size and strength. In huge contrast, Jaime Lannister’s connection to Brienne goes much further than a surface-level attraction to a large, powerful woman.

They fundamentally changed each other for the better in HUGE ways:

Brienne's relationship with Jaime gave her a sense of agency she never had before. He gave her the opportunities and tools to fulfill exactly what she wanted to be. He developed an unwavering trust in her judgment and skills as a knight that she hadn’t really experienced before. A feminist king, if there ever was one (after a personal growth journey, of course).

Brienne allowed Jaime to see his potential as an honorable man. He opened up to her emotionally in a way he’s done with no one else (except maybe his brother Tyrion?) Although she wasn’t the only reason he decided to defy his sister and do what’s right, she certainly had a monumental impact on his self-worth and morality.

Even when they were firmly on opposite sides, they still advocated and protected each other. Jaime lost the hand he used for sword fighting, and he fought a BEAR for her, for God's sake.

And you can't argue that they didn't have a physical and emotional connection. The amount of unadulterated, obvious yearning is insane, y’all. Right in front of everyone's salad.

I mean, Brienne willingly gives him her virginity, something she’s been vehemently defending her whole life. She allowed him to see her at her most vulnerable. But then...

Jaime decides to go back to King's Landing to protect his sister at the last moment. Keep in mind, he had already fully betrayed Cersei just a few episodes beforehand. In the end, he dies in his emotionally abusive sister’s arms, and the show implies that she's the woman he truly loves... it's genuinely vile to me.

If Jaime had stayed in the same place he was in season one, the exact same thing would've happened to him in the end. So... WTF was the point? What was the point of all that inner conflict, emotional growth, meaningful connection? Jack squat, according to the writers and the footnote dedicated to him in the King's Landing records.

What lesson are we supposed to learn from this, huh? No matter how hard you try to grow and change, what you were born into will always drag you back? You should stay in a toxic relationship, no matter how destructive, because you still feel like you love them? People who have made mistakes in the past don't deserve a second chance at life? That is what I got with the end to Jaime's story.

Thank you for your time, your honor.

#braime #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #I know it's been five years shut up #they gave me a beautiful gift and then destroyed it right in front of me

56 notes · View notes

weixuldo · 11 months

Text

Enigma// ch 18

anakin x reader

a/n: shit man, stuff is getting tough! i really didn’t think this fic was gonna b as long as it’s becoming hahaha/ ngl even if ppl r losing interest, im still gonna continue it for me heheh- i really like this story :)

The night gets worse and worse

warnings: cursing, cannon disabled character, insecurity, alcohol abuse, emtephobia (barf and stuff…), DONT DO WHAT ANAKIN DOES PLS LORD, ableist comments

_______________________________

As it does, time went by and you tried to move on.

When school ended you moved in with Ahsoka and split rent; it was nice having your best friend around whenever you needed it, plus the two of you shared groceries so the cost of living was much more affordable than if you had gotten your own place.

As much as you tried to remove Anakin from your mind, he just wouldn’t seem to leave so you enlisted the help of a professional.

You would go to therapy sessions twice a week; not solely because of Anakin but he definitely was part of it.

Mainly you went to try and deal with the reality of being such a young mother and work on letting your stress out in positive ways: though on occasion you would try to gain insight on your relationship with the older man.

When the therapist asked about him, you explained all he had been through and let her know you knew some of the reasons he acted the way he did; but your therapist assured you no matter the reasons, that didn’t negate the validity of your feelings.

The first few times you went you were skeptical; how was talking to some random person supposed to help you feel relieved and emotionally stable?

But after a few sessions, you started to see a difference in your moods and outlook on things.

It was a few days after Anakin’s results came in that Ash told you about the visit she paid Anakin; she recapped her argument with him, his relapse, and that she made him go to the clinic, she told you that she would relay his results to you as soon as she could.

You worried that she would be upset that you didn’t tell her that he was the father or that the two of you were together, but she brushed it off, “I kinda had a feeling, ya know?”.

You felt bad that he relapsed and was all alone, but then you remembered he was alone on his own merit, his behavior pushed those who cared most away… it wasn’t your fault.

You didn’t know how long fertility tests usually took, but you awaited the results anxiously.

Every day you woke up hoping that maybe he would reach out or that maybe he would show up at your door, but each time you only set yourself up for disappointment.

It had been around a week after Ahsoka told you he got the test; sure these things took some time, but he should have the results by now.

You weighed the option of just asking him flat out because you were frankly over his asshole hermit bit.

The weather was nice and you didn’t have any responsibilities today… ok, maybe you would pay him a visit. You rested a palm on your stomach as you bent over to grab your shoes from the shoe rack; you were definitely showing much more than you were during the first trimester.

You were about to head out when your phone began to ring; it was Ahsoka.

“Hey Ash, what's up?” you asked as you searched for your keys.

I finally got it

“Got what?”

It took a lot of coaxing, but I finally got the results

You stopped at the door and placed your keys back onto the counter top; maybe you wouldn’t have to see him.

y/n…he’s viable.

A weight felt like it had been lifted from your chest, now he had undeniable proof you were telling the truth the whole time- everything he said was for nothing and you were vindicated.

“That’s amazing news'' you exclaimed into the phone; surely your friend could hear the huge smile on your face just from your voice.

Yea, but what are you going to do now? He’s the father and now he knows it… you aren’t just going to let him back in after all he did, right?

“No Ash, He knows the truth now and if he wants this or is mature enough, he will come to me and apologize. The ball is in his court” you explained.

Atta girl

You smiled at your friend’s support, “Thanks Ahsoka”

Anytime

The phone call ended and you went back to your room- hopefully you would be hearing an apology soon or at least hearing from him in general.

_______________________________________

Across town Anakin sat on his couch and absentmindedly flipped through the channels on his tv; he told Ahsoka the news this morning and it drained him to make the call.

Ahsoka thanked him for getting the test and asked how he felt about the news. He answered quickly and hung up. He knew she was going to tell you and that he should tell you himself and apologize. But what would that do?

It would just solidify that he was a complete asshole- you deserved so much better. Surely you would do the same that he did to you…shut you down completely and demand you leave.

Maker, why was he such an arrogant shit?

His half drunk mind wasn’t operating at full capacity and he was making a lot of dumb rationalizations to his problems;

You already thought he was an asshole, so why even bother telling you the news himself?

You deserved better so he should just disappear from your life and not weigh you down.

He really nothing going for him, so fuck it- he was gonna get shitfaced.

Soon he had made his way back to the couch with a six pack of bud lite and he cracked the first one. Cheers to the pathetic joke that was his life. He gulped them down one by one and sooner than he thought, the pack was already gone.

He had a good buzz going and went to fetch more but when he scanned his messy fridge for the tinted glass bottles he couldn’t find any.

“Fuck” he muttered, that was his last case.

He groaned and slammed the fridge door shut. There was nothing here to cure his itch for alcohol, so he decided tonight would be a great night to go out and get shitfaced in public, cause why the fuck not?

He got his phone out and grabbed one of the many styluses he had scattered through the house for his convenience. He called for an uber to pick him up.

As he waited he changed into pants, a long sleeve, and his gloves- it had been awhile since he had gone out and he forgot what a hassle it was to put all of that shit on.

By the time he was dressed and collected his wallet, the uber was there. Anakin was an experienced drinker, so even though he already had six beers packed away, he could sober up if he needed to be able to get into the bar.

The car he rode in was a nice sedan, it was silver and looked like a new model; the problem for Anakin was getting in. All of the cars he usually rode in (yours, Ahsoka’s, Ben’s, and his own) were bigger and sat higher up, so he wasn’t used to having to crouch down to get in.

He sighed and placed a stiff hand on the roof of the car to steady himself as he lowered himself into the car; he sat with a thud and grunted.

The driver was probably only a few years his junior- he wore big circle glasses, a patterned button down and had a clean shaven face. He looked like a pushover.

Anakin winced at the overwhelming smell of eucalyptus that entered his senses; he wondered how this guy was driving for a job like this- how would he defend himself against a potential threat? By throwing his eucalyptus at them?

Ahh, what was he doing? He was being judgmental for no reason.

“Are you alright sir?” the man asked.

“Yea, i’m fine,” Anakin said, crossing his arms.

The man nodded and began to drive to the bar Anakin had entered into the app.

The bar he wanted to go to was one in the heart of the city, he didn’t want to talk to anyone tonight, but he also didn’t want to be alone; this bar was perfect for that because there were always people doing some random shit that he could eavesdrop on.

They pulled up to the curb and the driver parked the car. Anakin thanked the man and opened the door to exit. Maker, he was getting nauseous from that fucking air freshener.

He swung one leg out of the car and pushed himself up with his opposite hand. He stood and grabbed onto the hood of the car with his hand; that was harder than it had to be… damn these prosthetics.

Once he was standing he shut the door just as the driver was asking if he needed any assistance.

Groups of people crowded around the entrance of the establishment. Some were old regulars whose teeth looked like they were gonna fall out from all of the substances they abused and on the other side there were a group of younger kids who were trying to figure out who was going to try out their fake ID first.

He scoffed as he pushed through both groups to get inside. The bar was warm and smelled of weed, smoke, and liquor- relief washed over the melancholic man, this is where he would be able to forget.

An open barstool was soon occupied by him and a bartender quickly made her way down to his seat.

“I’ll have some of that honey bourbon I've been hearing people rave about” he said, a $10 bill folded between his fingers.

“Alright, hun, that’s commin’ right up” the busty lady on the other side of the counter said as she grabbed the 10 from his hand, her hand lingering longer than he liked.

Anakin could tell she was trying to flirt to get a better tip; back before you, he would have gladly indulged her game and revel in every motion she would do to purposefully push up her breasts and flirt back 5 times harder than she was… but now, he had no desire.

All he could think of when she tried to flirt was how he’d much rather be having a quiet night with you, not some bartender who didn’t give a rat’s ass about his life.

His drink was placed in front of him and the woman smiled, “here you are handsome”.

Normally that wouldn’t bother him- she was just doing her job… But tonight he just couldn’t.

Once he thanked her, she sauntered away; Anakin raised a judgey brow as she intentionally swayed her hips back and forth. When she was finally busy with another customer he called over one of the other bartenders.

“Hey man, you think you could serve me tonight, I don’t really appreciate all of her flirting” he said as blankly as he could.

The man cleaning glasses on the other side of the mahogany surface chuckled and nodded, “haha, yes man, no problem. She does lay it on pretty hard sometimes, I get it”.

Anakin thanked the man and continued to down drinks.

As it got later, more and more people began showing up and it became uncomfortably hot. The music started to give him a headache and the smoke was getting thicker; he knew it was time to go when he could hardly suppress his coughing (no thanks to his fucked up lungs).

The cool evening air felt cleaner than it ever had before as Anakin stood a few yards down from the bar. He had gotten far enough out of the way that he could still hear and see the lights from inside but no line was around him.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up at the sky; the city’s light pollution hid the stars; he still liked to imagine how they’d look.

He had no idea how much he had in that bar, but he felt like it wasn’t enough- he needed to do something crazy- he needed to interact with people. He wasn’t completely gone yet, but he was pretty drunk (even if he wouldn’t admit it).

He stumbled down the sidewalk as he made his way to another bar, not far from where he was, that was a “no-smoking” establishment; he wouldn’t have to worry about choking on air there.

The sidewalk seemed to move as he steadied himself by placing a hand on the wall of the buildings on the way to his destination.

He was feeling pretty good; his problems were far from his mind, instead he was focusing on getting to the bar. He finally made it and attempted to sit on the barstool that just couldn’t seem to sit still. Eventually he caught a bartender’s attention and got set up there with a 20 oz draft beer.

This bar was crowded too, but less head-pounding music and young adults. He sipped his drink peacefully as he watched the others in the bar; there were a few couples on dates, a group of guys playing pool, and another group throwing darts.

He downed his beer and placed the glass on the bar as he waited for more- this was definitely one way to spend his army money.

As he waited a brown haired woman came up behind him and placed a lingering hand on his shoulder.

“Hello, you look lonely tonight, anything I could help with?”.

The lady wore a dress that was way too short and it did not flatter her body at all. She smelled of overwhelming cheap perfume and beer. He was already over it.

“Nah, I’m just fine,” he said, attempting to wave her off.

She caught one of his gloved hands and began taking off his covering as she asked, “ooh, you have very stiff hands, must be strong-lets see..”.

She managed to get the glove halfway up his palm before he snatched his hand to his chest; “what the fuck you think you’re doing?!” he hissed.

She laughed, “You’re like a robot or somethin’ haha, I’m sure I could please you better than that plastic could, and I only require a pack of cigs after, no monetary charge” she promoted proudly.

“Not in a million years lady” Anakin mumbled as his cup was replaced with a full one.

She scoffed and put her hands on her hips, “well that’s alright, I didn’t really want to fuck a cripple anyways”.

At that moment Anakin had the urge to grab her by that pathetic excuse of a dress and throw her against the nearest wall, but he knew he shouldn’t.

“Fuck off”

“No wonder you look lonely, with a personality like that you must be impossible to be around” she huffed before finding the next guy to latch on to.

He was getting drunker and her words hit a little too close to home- he needed to be more wasted. He began to find random people who would do shots with him. Soon he was blacked out and drinking with everyone.

“ and i-its its sooo fucked, ‘cause I… I really do love her, but she… I don’t think s-she… I don’t know, WHO WANTS TO DO MORE SHOTS?!” Anakin was everywhere.

He sat at the bar and did two hurricane shots right after another (where you drink it then get water thrown in your face then the bartender slaps you across the face). He was at the point that he couldn’t even feel that-he was gone.

Though soon after, the shots began catching up with him and he started feeling nauseous. He laid his forehead down on the bar and puked in between his legs and the counter. Some people around offered to help and the bartender got him some water; he insisted he didn’t need it but the alcohol was definitely making him dehydrated.

Through the middle of sounds he heard a staff member say, “someone needs to get him outta here, we can’t have him in the bar like this”.

The fuck were they saying? He was completely fine.

Before he could tell what was happening he was being carried out of the bar and was sitting on the curb outside. Fuck, what was going on?

Everything was blurry, he felt nauseous and all he could focus on was this sharp pain in his side and the pounding headache that was plaguing him.

________________________

Anakin had no idea where he was, but he knew he didn’t feel good. He sat up and puked.

He felt a hand on his back and was about to protest when another wave of nausea hit- when would it end?

More shit happened in a blur and he eventually made it into an Uber and headed home.

————-about two hours earlier—————

After he was thrown out of the bar downtown he was picked up by a group of frat boys who thought it would be cool to challenge a random drunk guy to a drinking contest.

In his inebriated state, Anakin went with the men (even though they basically had to carry him to the club they were going to).

No one in their right mind would still allow Anakin to consume drinks, he was visibly not well and clearly needed to be cut off; but that wouldn’t be any fun for the frat.

They took him to a club where they frequented so the staff allowed them to do whatever the fuck they wanted.

Anakin continued to drink and drink… and drink.

Once he started puking again, one of the relatively kinder boys took time to ask his address and got him an uber home.

And that's where Anakin was now.

He rested his forehead against the back window of the sedan and the driver drove quickly; he was probably worried that Anakin was going to yak in the back of his car. They arrived at Anakin’s apartment in decent time and the driver asked Anakin to leave.

Anakin nodded and tried to get up but he couldn’t quite get his footing; the driver huffed and helped him out of the car.

The driver helped Anakin into the house and saw some cash lying on the end table; sure, he helped Anakin inside but that didn’t mean this guy was a saint.

Anakin leaned against the wall for support the driver swiped the cash and dashed out of the door. He had no clue what happened or what was going on, all he knew was that he felt awful and he needed to get to bed.

He headed that way but he tripped over himself and landed on the floor with a thud.

A groan escaped him and his vision went black.

***

a/n: more self destructive behavior… what’s new? lolll, srry the updates have been spaced out a bit, i’ve been doing a lot at work haha

taglist : @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimone12 @fallinlovewithevil

115 notes · View notes

hazelnut-u-out · 1 year

Text

Something that’s always bothered me is the presentation of the infamous ‘Mr. Jellybean’ scene in Meeseeks and Destroy versus the Planetina plotline in A Rickconvenient Mort.

(TW for grooming)

On first watch, we know Mr. Jellybean is terrible. In my opinion, I always thought they handled that whole plotline rather well. It wasn’t played for laughs or made light of, we see the emotional effect on Morty, they don’t attempt to make the predator sympathetic, and we see Rick step up as ‘Grandpa’ for one of the first times ever— to kill a pedophile, no less. Pretty strong morality alignment on that one.

Suddenly, though, when the predator is no longer an older man, but an older woman, it’s… shitty, sure, but not explicitly wrong.

On my first watch, I thought A Rickconvenient Mort was pretty blatantly a statement piece on grooming. Planetina follows textbook grooming tactics, including lovebombing, isolation, manipulation, and gaslighting. She plays into the classic ‘very mature young man.' We even have Beth as a voice of reason, finally stepping up to the plate to protect her son after what seems to be years of emotional neglect. We watch that very neglect backfire on her concern and push Morty further into this relationship. I initially thought it was a play on grooming the viewer, as well, because of the way it’s told essentially from Morty’s ‘puppy love’/‘first love’ point of view and leaves you feeling just the right amount of unsettled after the ending.

So, you could imagine my surprise when I realized that not everyone (in fact, less people than I had expected) initially clocked Planetina as a sketchy/predatory character.

So, I did what any great journalist would do— rewatched. And rewatched. And rewatched.

I wanted to form a nuanced opinion, but I came out on the other side wondering why we never got a moment with Planetina that clearly shows us she’s a condemnable character in the relationship with Morty and not just because of her methods of activism.

I think we’re actually supposed to agree with Morty in this scene, which was not my first reaction.

The age difference is obviously something they intended to be a main plot point for this storyline, as well. The explicit references to it (Morty's age, in particular) were put there for a reason, from the beginning of the episode all the way to the climax.

In a lot of ways, it makes sense to assume that maybe they didn't want to explicitly state it was wrong (though, they do through Beth, in my opinion).

That would explain why so much of A Rickconvenient Mort is set up using textbook grooming tactics; why we never see Planetina outright condemned, but see Morty emotionally destroyed and confused; why we’re (arguably) supposed to agree with Morty over Beth; why we follow Planetina all the way up to when her facetious face of peace and ambivalence crumbles.

Of course, I’m not trying to assume anything, but it does make me wonder what leads someone to write a character in this way— and even promote her as a character at times (like this post, which is captioned 'Tag your Planetina').

Then again, maybe my initial interpretation was correct and all of this was the result of a conscious choice to write and direct an episode from the point of view of Morty as a victim. I mean, it wouldn’t be too far off to assume something like that as we’ve seen them do it time and time again, just with Rick as the abuser. Think of Mortynight Run, The Vat of Acid Episode, and the new infamous episodes: A Rick in King Mortur’s Mort & Ricktional Mortpoon’s Rickmas Mortcation, just to name a few.

Maybe A Rickconvenient Mort is another one of the episodes intended to show Morty’s perspective and frame his loss of innocence as he views it, not as adults/outsiders view it.

It could be a cool contrast between how Rick protects Morty from these sorts of situations versus how Beth does.

(Disclaimer: I’m NOT saying that there aren’t different types of abuse and different appearances to abusers/predators! I just feel like both of these types of abuse/assault can be explicitly depicted as wrong.)

#rick and morty #a rickconvenient mort #rick sanchez #morty smith

287 notes · View notes

pyrondeeznutz · 9 months

Text

Clockwork Headcanons

PT.01

Natalie Ouellettes past, upbringing, pre-murder headcanons.

CW: mentions of sexual abuse (I go into light detail about the abuse and the abusers mindset), domestic violence, gore, trauma, human experimentation

<NOTE> Same thing as the Ticci Toby headcanons, its a bit of a rewrite and I tried to keep the story realistic. Its not proofread so ignore typos and grammatical errors. Also again as a major warning, I went into some detail about Clockworks sexual trauma with her brother as I feel it does play a major part to her character and the reason why she developed the way she did. I have trigger warnings on the parts so you can skip it. Its very long because I have a lot of thoughts about her character. Enjoy 🔥

BIOGRAPHY .

PATIENT NAME: Natalie Ouellette

BIRTHDATE: November 6th, 1996

AGE: Currently 18 years old

HC/EC: Brown hair, green eyes

ETHNICITY: White Canadian

BIRTHPLACE: Windsor, Ontario

FAMILY: Mary-Beth Ouellette (mother), David Ouellette (father), Lucas Ouellette (brother)

DIAGNOSIS: Major Depressive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, suspected/untreated Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD)

PIGTAILS .

Natalie grew up in a small trailer park. Her family was dirt broke, her father would blow all their money on booze and gambling

The financial situation in her household contributed significantly to her parents stress and fighting. Rarely was there ever a moment of peace

She would often make careless mistakes as any young child would like wetting the bed, drawing on walls, accidentally breaking things

And every time she made a mistake, she wasn’t simply taught how to do better, she was berated and ruthlessly beat by her father

Her childhood was unstable, to say the least. Natalies parents were more like enemies than they were caregivers.

She spent her peak developmental years being severely neglected and made to feel small and powerless.

At home she would spend her time alone in her room to hide away from the fighting between her parents or the random rants her drunken father would go on

She would get into the habit of running away just to spend some quiet time at the park by her house, anything to escape the chaos of her everyday life

At such a young age she didn’t know why she was so angry at the world. And at such a young age she would act out for attention and struggle with morals, empathy and societal norms as a result of never being taught any better

Her and her brother were severely emotionally neglected and grew up very poor, barely having food to eat or clean clothes to wear. This resulted to her being ostracized from her peers early on

DADDYS GIRL .

David Ouellette was a lazy, drunk, mean old man. He spent his life as a bully and would pick on anyone who challenged his authority, even his own children

He wasn’t afraid to use fear and violence to make his family obey. The man didn’t care who he hurt as long as he got his way

And this man regretted having children every single day of his life. He viewed them as burdens, a curse, and something he wasted his life on.

This included Natalie, who developed oppositional behavioural issues early on in defiance to her fathers abuse

Natalie had a mouth on her. She would talk back, make sarcastic or snarky remarks, boss other kids around. She would fight tooth and nail against her father for a sliver of power in her otherwise powerless life

And David hated being talked down to by a cocky brat like her. So over the years David would repeatedly beat his daughter into shape by grabbing her, hitting her with objects, slapping her, pushing and any other means to his ends of regaining control

Despite this strained relationship where the two would constantly fight for power, Natalie was a daddys girl. They developed a strange, twisted understanding in each other

David worked as a local trucker, but he ran a side hustle of repairing clocks. The man was a piece of shit and honestly a bit dumb when it came to booksmarts but he was good with his hands and a tinkerer

Her father was a classic trailer trash hick. He loved and owned guns, and would sometimes take his children out hunting. The only praise and a semblance of affection Natalie would receive from her father was when she was taking the life of another living being

MOMMY ISSUES .

Natalies mother was an unstable woman. She was very passive-aggressive and unpredictable in her parenting going from caring to cold in an instant

She was very controlling over her children, often resorting to berating and insulting Natalie to get her to act how she wanted

Mary-Beth spent her life chasing the teenage dream she never got when she was younger, and tried to project through her daughter

When she was a young child, Natalie learned quickly that her mother didn’t care about anybody but herself. Mary-Beth was a bitter woman, always playing the victim, and would die before ever admitting she was wrong

Even though her relationship with her father was bad, the girls relationship with her mother was worse. Davids abuse was in response to his children acting out of line, meanwhile her mother was unnecessarily critical, argumentative, and emotional

On multiple occasions her mother would leave the house in a dramatic fit as if she desired to be chased after. The woman would act out like a child and expect everyone to cater to her

And Natalie was never good enough for Mary-Beth. She wasn’t polite enough, smart enough, skinny enough. There was absolutely no pleasing her mother.

BLOOD BROTHER . (TW SEXUAL ABUSE MENTS)

The only person Natalie relied on in her life was her brother, Lucas. He was 4 and a half years older than her but it was that sort of quiet understanding between two children in such a hostile household

Despite their arguments and lack of true bond, the young girl felt safe with her older brother and always tried to impress him. All she wanted was the approval of some dominant figure in her life, and she certainly wasn’t getting it from her parents

Lucas was a strange boy. He was the anxious type who harboured a lot of internalized anger, especially towards his mother.

He was an outcast at school and similarly to his sister, he felt powerless in his life. The boy picked up on his mothers passive-aggressive traits and his fathers entitlement

As he grew and developed, so did his hunger for control and power. He wanted to degrade, assault, and dominate something in his life to make up for the lack of confidence

When Natalie was 9 years old, Lucas would begin to sexually abuse her.

The one person in her life that understood and felt the same pain she did turned on her. She was scared, ashamed, confused.

Repeatedly Lucas would approach his sister and assault her in various ways with little to no regard of the consequences or moral implications. He was desperate and even though it hurt her, it felt good to him.

BETRAYAL . (TW SEXUAL ABUSE MENTS)

Natalie was too young to even know what was happening to her, all she knew was that it felt bad and she felt violated. She knew something was wrong.

Soon enough, the girl felt she had no choice but to confide in her peers. One day at recess she approached a girl named Mia and her friends, a group of girls Natalie wasn’t really friends with but was acquainted enough to talk to

And from there she told them everything as best as she could, even if she got choked up and didn’t make much sense. The girl barely even made sense of it herself.

It felt lighter to get it off her chest, maybe if she could gain the courage to tell her parents the abuse would stop. Maybe everything was going to work out.

But the next day Natalie woke up to messages on sites like Facebook and MySpace. Degrading comments about her being an incest freak, a whore, gross, disgusting, weird, used. Who does that with their brother?

The bullying and degradation from her peers who now saw her as a disgusting weirdo would follow her up until high school

And for four years she would come home from school and be abused in the worst, most violating way by her own kin. And for four years she kept everything inside of her. She just kept quiet and didn’t dare to tell a soul ever again.

Eventually, she gained the courage to tell Lucas no, and firmly reject his advances. After that she was finally free, as much as a girl drowning in her own household could be.

DEAD GIRL .

In high school, Natalie did well for herself. Her grades were good, she calmed down a ton, and she didn’t bother making close friends but she got herself a boyfriend named Chris

Chris was a nice boy, but he came from a good, well-off family. He wasn’t the type to even begin to understand the things Natalie thought or had been through.

Throughout the years, Natalie had grown fond of things of the morbid nature. She would find herself drawing gorey images depicting murder, weapons, decomposing corpses, and other unsettling themes

This wouldn’t have been as bad if it wasn’t tied to the girl who was drawing it. Most people saw Natalie as a weird, disturbed girl and it was rather uncomfortable to watch a girl like her draw all these macabre things

On the outside she was quiet and asocial with a bit of an attitude. She was snarky and rough around the edges, but all she wanted for herself was to get a proper education and have a good life for herself. All she wanted was the kind of family Chris had

Deeper inside of her, Natalie was a very angry girl who hated the world. She hated her family, her life, she resented people who had it better than her.

There was so much bubbling inside that she just pushed down. She was never going to let herself crumble. She was never going to be weak.

This reflected negatively on her life which led to the girl growing into her behavioural issues. Natalie would talk back to authority figures in her life and god forbid anyone try to tell her what to do. She was rebellious to a fault

Her sleep schedule was barely existent as she would find herself staying up until the sunrise to finish assignments, scroll through the internet, or binge watch horror movies regularly

And this lack of sleep only contributed to her horrible attitude. The girl would get into fights at home, storm out, get into fights with her peers or her boyfriend, and go back home to start all over again

TIME .

Natalie had a strange relationship with the concept of time. It always seemed to be against her.

A part of her feared how little time she felt she had. It was like a race against the inevitable, it was going to catch up to her eventually. She couldn’t outrun time itself

It wasn’t long until there was something of obsession with the topic in Natalies life. Even clocks on the wall drove her insane

She felt as though she was stuck in a time loop of living the same day over and over. Different day on the calendar, but same life

Even her fathers clocks that littered her dirty, small, mobile home mocked her. Laughing at how powerless she was

The one thing in her life she truly could never control was the vicious cycle of living through her miserable days again and again

Wake up at 6am, school at 8am, go back home to the abuse at 4pm, fall asleep at 3am

Every. Single. Day.

Natalie hated her life more than anything. She wanted out more than anything. But she wasn’t going to be so weak as to self-harm or commit suicide. She was strong enough to take control

She just kept trying to be in control of something that couldn’t be controlled

STITCHES .

One day after school, Natalies boyfriend broke up with her.

She should’ve expected it, but she didn’t.

Chris was always nice to her, he really did try his best. But he just couldn’t even begin to understand her, and she couldn’t even begin to explain.

He told her that her outbursts were too much for him. She would snap at him and cause fights for such small reasons, everything set her off. And when he tried to talk it through with her, she’d shut down on him

Natalie never told him about the abuse, the trauma, or any of her struggles. She was drowning and never trusted a single hand reaching out to help

Chris made comments towards her art and mindset, saying it creeped him out and that she needed to seek professional help

Of course he didn’t understand. Nobody understood Natalie. The whole wide world was against her

And now the one person she actually liked and could see herself caring for turned on her and left her just like everyone else in her life

And another good thing in her life was lost to the hands of time

BORDERLINE .

For such a strong girl like Natalie, a stupid high school breakup shouldn’t have meant as much as it did

It shouldn’t have ruined her

But it did, and she was a mess

All she could think about was how much she lost. She was so desperate for control she completely lost it

And now her moods were at an all time low, her impulsivity skyrocketed and so did her anger

How fucking dare he do that to her

Natalie would start acting out, getting into fights with her parents, and her grades began to drop. Her entire life was slipping away through the cracks in between her fingers and there was nothing she could do but watch it crumble underneath her feet

It was like watching a car accident. You could see the girl spiral, you could see her crash and burn, but there was nothing you could do but sit back and watch

She didn’t care one bit. After so long of trying so hard to run from it all, she finally had nothing left to lose

So she picked up a few bad habits here and there. She would fight girls behind the school and buy cigarettes off of sketchy junkies with her parents money

Natalie started to speak up more and everything that came out of that girls mouth was trashy. She would make offensive comments and pick on people for being “so damn sensitive”

In reality, she just wanted to be seen. She wanted someone to catch her from falling so far deep into destruction and give her the attention and support she never had

But everyone found her annoying or just something to laugh at. Natalie wasn’t enjoyable to be around in the slightest

She started stealing booze from her parents and going off and getting drunk at the park near her house. The girl quickly developed a drinking problem that worsened her attitude even more

Natalie started crossing lines that shouldn’t have been crossed, and started to gain the dangerous knowledge that she could do all these awful things and the world wouldn’t come to an end

She was on top. She was powerful. And nobody was going to fuck with her again

INFIRMARY .

One night she got into a physical fight with her brother, things were broken, fists were thrown, insults were tossed back and forth

The fight had gone too far and she ended up injuring her left eye so badly she had to be taken to the emergency room

Nobody stayed by Natalies side in that hospital. She had to undergo surgery in order to remove the eye due to the damage. And neither her parents nor her brother cared enough to stay

Now around this time, the government was developed a chemical weapon known as “Liquid Hate” or “methcyclopyroxene oxydenate” if we’re going to get scientific

And if you know anything about the government, they just love to run illegal human experimentation programs on unassuming people who really wouldn’t be looked for if they went missing or worse

Natalie fell victim to a testing of an early prototype of liquid hate. During her surgery she was tied down and injected a small dosage of this chemical

Soon, she woke up and felt a jolt of adrenaline stronger than anything she’d ever felt before. It felt like her body was so hot she was going to explode, she felt jittery and like a surge of overwhelming energy soared through every cell that made up her being

And she felt so consumed by rage

Her anger was righteous and she was wielding it like an archangels sword. It was something so biblically primal when she escaped her restraints and ripped the nearest doctor apart with her own two hands

This quick blinding rush subdued slightly and she came to her senses as she caught her breath and bolted right out of the hospital in fear and out into the rainy night

The effects weren’t exactly as blinding as before but god knows they were still overtaking her senses. And when she walked down the street in that gentle, cold, rain only one thought was on her mind

Where the fuck was her family when she needed them the most?

TICK TOCK .

Now here was this angry, drugged up girl standing outside the dark house where she spent years of abuse and torment

And the blood on her hands was dripping like sin

When her mother answered the front door and saw the monster her own daughter had become, there was a part in the woman that felt as though she was looking at what she could’ve become

And like smashing a mirror, Natalie took the life of her own mother. She strangled her, brutally stabbed her with a kitchen knife and ripped open her ribcage with feral strength

As Natalie taunted the one who carried her for 9 months and brought her into the sick and cruel world she inhabited, she felt the rabid words fall off her mouth as if they had been begging to escape for years

Next was her father, who had slept through the death of his wife in a drunken slumber. The house stunk of alcohol - such a familiar smell. It made her sick to her stomach.

She snuck into her parents bedroom and took a handgun out of the bedstand drawer, shoving the barrel of the gun in her fathers booze-coated mouth and watched the fear filled his eyes as he woke up. Her finger teased the trigger as she whispered a quiet “your time is up, daddy” and blew his brains out onto the wall

This was another line Natalie crossed, another realization of her own capabilities only enhanced by the chemically induced beast-like rage. Nothing was stopping her. This was her divine right, she was in control now

And finally, she moved onto her brother who was alerted by the sound of a gunshot and walked in on his sister standing over their fathers dead corpse, blood staining her hands and soaking her white hospital gown

Lucas, like his sister, was a quiet boy who kept to himself for the most part. But like his sister, he had so much anger boiling inside of him and he was a fighter

And so the two fought once more, Lucas physically overpowered his sister for just a moment before something inside of her broke like a dam and the flood came crashing through

Natalie gained the upper hand as the fight was brought into Lucas’s bedroom, the place where her brother would abuse her for years

The overwhelming pain of the memories flooding in threw Natalie into a panicked fit as she threw her brother to the ground, ignoring his screams and berating

She climbed on top of him and incapacitated him by stabbing him several times in the abdomen, throat, and face. The girl finished her brother off by gutting him and spent her time mutilating his body like an animalistic rampage

Everything she had been bottling up finally exploded out of her and the girl showed no mercy that night

EMBERS .

Natalie stood in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror

She looked at the gaping hole where her left eye once was for what felt like eternity

Time came to a complete stop in that moment, it was all in the bloody palm of her hands

The only sound that filled the room was the viscous sound of her fathers pocket watch ticking softly as it rested on the messy bathroom counter

For nearly an hour she stood there heavily dissociated, zoning out of reality as she did nothing but stare at the hands of the clock moving rhythmically

Natalie soon snapped out of her dazed trance and slowly moved her dark crimson stained hand over to the pocket watch

And slowly she look a deep breath in as she brutally shoved the small clock into her empty eye socket, zoning out from the sharp pain of her body reacting to the foreign object

Now time was apart of her, and she was time itself. The girl became what she feared the most and broke the cycle she lives through over and over with her own two hands. She was no longer going to be a victim to the hands of time, she was now going to be the destroyer of it

As she exited the cold bathroom, she walked down the hallway of her small home she spent so much time in. There was no more yelling from her father, comments from her mother, fear from her brother

Natalie was all that was left

The girl entered her bedroom for the last time, changed into regular clothes and grabbed her stuffed giraffe shes had since she was a young child, named Jaffy

Jaffy had been with her through it all. She found comfort in the little giraffe, and it was the last piece of herself she had left

She walked into the kitchen with the stuffed animal and turned her gas-stove on max before laying a gentle kiss on Jaffys head and placing it onto the stovetop

Not once did she look back to the fire overtaking the giraffe as she walked out of that house, letting it become victim to the flames that would soon engulf the home

Natalie Ouellette died in that house, burning to death alongside her family in the fire

And only Clockwork walked out

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta writing #creepypasta headcanon #clockwork #natalie ouellette #clockwork creepypasta #creepypasta clockwork #clockwork fanart #clockwork headcanons #creepypasta clockwork headcanons #natalie ouellette headcanons #pyrocrpz

99 notes · View notes

midnight-in-eden · 2 years

Text

This is what I meant in this post about being an angry atheist. I was taught to think anger was bad. I was taught to place moral value judgments on emotions. And anger like angry atheists have was especially bad, because it was linked with pride.

And you know what? It’s true!! My anger is my pride saying I should never have been treated like this. My anger is my self worth saying I am worth more than this, and not because of my Father, because of me. My anger is my protectiveness for myself and people like me saying The abuse and trauma have gone on too long.

For my ancestors who left their homes and walked on bloody blistered feet for a lie. For the girls in my family tree who were treated like cattle, collected in a herd for their husband. For the people of color denied access to exaltation and eternal families through the priesthood and temple ban, for the queer people who are still denied those things. For boys at BYU who underwent electroshock and induced vomiting “therapy” for the crime of being gay. For every child abused by a bishop or other leader. For every woman who wanted a career and gave it up because she was told her only priority was having and raising children. For every young man who felt pressured to go on a mission or face rejection and soft shunning from his community. For children who were denied baptism because their parents were gay. For everyone who was ever traumatized by a violent and invasive temple ceremony they weren’t warned about ahead of time. For all the people in poverty who faithfully gave their mite even when it was the only money they had. For every non-believing kid who’s sat through self righteous lectures from emotionally abusive parents. For every person who was ever coerced to sit in a closed office with an adult man and confess masturbation or anything else sexual, especially the children who were made to give these “confessions.” For every girl who grew up feeling like her body and sexuality were a dirty and shameful thing because of all the modesty culture and law of chastity lessons. For all the kids who grew up scared by the story of Abraham and Isaac, for all the kids who felt like their faith wasn’t good enough because they knew they couldn’t do what Nephi did to Laban.

I’m angry about historians who were excommunicated for telling the truth. I’m angry about people excusing racist and sexist scriptures. I’m angry about men telling me they’ve read about polygamy and came to terms with it, so I should too. I’m angry about queer people being called enemies of the family and signs of Satan’s increasing power. I’m angry about being manipulated. I’m angry about the abusive relationship I was taught to have with God, how I was told I would never make it without him, that I shouldn’t trust my own understanding but only what God (and his prophets) said, that I should be grateful he gave me this opportunity to have trials, to suffer, because it would turn me into someone better, someone he could accept living with him. I’m even angry for the girls who sadly took out their second pair of earrings based on the whim of an old man.

Yes, I’m angry! Aren’t you? Isn’t it wonderful? Isn’t it such a relief, such a gasp of fresh air straight into your lungs, to allow yourself to be angry about things you know are wrong?

#exmo #exmormon #apostate #ex christian #ex religious #my own thoughts #angry atheist #deconstruction

233 notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

That Girl is a Problem

Part 3: “Needy Little Thing”

(AU street racing! Joel x f! tattoo artist reader)

A/N: first just wanted to say that the beginning of this chapter may be triggering for some to read. The readers boyfriend is not a nice person and their relationship is 100% toxic. I am not in any way condoning toxic/abusive relationships or romanticizing them. The chapter will have the appropriate warnings. Just wanted to end this by saying to please take care of yourselves, and I am always here to chat if need be.

~word count: 3.5k~

Summary: Joel Miller & Tommy Miller left their Texas homestead seeking new thrills. They find themselves working at an auto body shop on Hollywood Blvd. Joel meets you, a self taught tattoo artist working on the strip. You might be just the adrenaline rush that he was searching for. Or, his ultimate heartbreak.

Warnings: readers boyfriend is an asshole, toxic relationship, mentally and emotionally abusive to the reader, talks down on her tattoos and her clothing, makes the reader feel less than/inferior to him, gaslighting, manipulating behavior, reader puts up with it because she has been wired to feel like this is all she deserves when she knows she deserves better, reader wants to appease her boyfriend, power dynamic with reader and boyfriend, reader has consensual sex to appease her boyfriend, reader feels trapped in her relationship and has tried to break up with her boyfriend but never follows through with it, reader uses sex as coping mechanism, reader doesn’t want to leave the relationship because there is a sense of comfort sticking with what she knows even when it’s not good, brief mentioning of physical abuse from the readers boyfriend but no depiction in detail, reader commits infidelity with Joel, smut, fingering, dirty talk from Joel and the reader, reader uses Joel to get off consensually, praise kink, Joel takes care of the reader, after care, some fluff, angst, Joel has a crush, (+18) minors dni!

That Girl is a Problem Playlist:

𝙄'𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡.

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙚...

𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙢.

Los Angeles, California: Summer of 1993

It’s 8pm when your boyfriend, Dylan pays you a visit after his long shift. Dylan is an intern at Capitol Records. His dream is to one day be a music producer. The only reason he got the job in the first place, was all thanks to his dad who had a connection at the record label. You and Dylan were the complete polar opposites. Your friends weren’t even sure how the hell you two lasted this long and truthfully? You weren’t quite sure either. Dylan hated your tattoos. He always made a point to tell you that you were ruining your body and the classic “that shit is permanent. You know that right?” He also wasn’t afraid to tell you that he didn’t like the way you dressed. You revealed too much skin and he didn’t want anyone looking at what belonged to him.

Dylan wasn’t all bad. Sometimes he had his good days where he would love on you and make you feel like the only girl in the world. These moments were short lived and you already tried breaking up with him a handful of times. You caved because of the makeup sex. You always felt pathetic after the fact but in your defense, no man you had ever dated treated you any differently. You knew you deserved better of course. It was just that there was a sense of comfort with sticking with what you knew the best. That didn’t mean that you had to stay faithful 24/7. The times that Dylan hurt your feelings, yelled in your face and made you cry, or roughed you up a bit, you sought comfort from other men, or women. Sex was your sole comfort and you knew that it would always be there for you, even on the darkest nights.

Your relationship with Dylan was toxic and the more times he took his anger out on you, the more you wished he would just fucking disappear for good. Why couldn’t you just up and leave him? Why did you keep coming back? He was the only person in your life that made you feel weak, inferior, and you fucking hated him for it.

You had just finished up on Joel’s knuckle tattoo sketches when Dylan arrived. You quickly doused out your cigarette and tossed your box of smokes in a nearby drawer to hide the evidence. He hated when you would smoke and you should have been more careful. You quickly sprayed a bit of perfume to hopefully mask the stench of cigarette smoke.

You heard the shimmy of the beads on the curtain as Dylan slipped through them, making his presence known. “Angel, baby. Are you smoking again? You know how much I hate that shit.” He tsked under his breath.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you looked over at him briefly before you tucked away the sketches for Joel safely in a Manila folder before you looked up at your boyfriend, giving him a sickly sweet smile. “I’m sorry baby. You know it’s such a terribly hard habit to break.” You gave him a little sad pout.

Dylan let out a sigh as he approached you, leaning down and he grasped your chin between his fingers as he narrowed his eyes into yours coldly. “Yeah? Just like it’s hard for you to break the habit of not dressing like a fucking street whore?”

“Baby, please..I’ve had a really long day. I have a client coming in later and I really just want to—” your pleas were cut off by Dylan’s malice.

“Aw, honey. I’m so sorry baby. You had a long day? Oh, you poor, poor thing. What about my day, huh? How about the fact that the only shit I’ve been doing is taking coffee and lunch orders for these pretentious fucks all goddamn day. You feel sorry for me too?” He spat, gripping your chin between his fingers even tighter.

“I’m sorry that you had a shit day, baby. That sounds really really stressful. Can I make it all better for you? I’d really love to do that.”

Dylan let out a sigh, loosening his grip around your chin before he gently released you. “I’m sorry for taking it out on you baby. I really just had a terrible fucking day. Can I make it up to you, please?”

This is how it would always start. Dylan would take his frustration out on you. He’d apologize, kiss it all better, and then you would fuck. It was the same vicious cycle. Over, and over again.

“Yeah baby, can I have a kiss please?” You softly requested.

“Of course you can, Angel. Anything for my sweet pretty baby.” He cooed as he leaned down and gave you a sweet, loving kiss. Your eyes flutter shut as you drape your arms around his neck, kissing him back sweetly.

You ask him if it’s okay for you to remove his shirt, he obliges and asks the same from you. At least he still had the decency to ask for your consent, and vice versa.

It had been awhile since you last faked an orgasm with your boyfriend. Truthfully speaking? Your mind was drifting to Joel Miller while Dylan fucked into you. Thank god he couldn’t tell that your moans were overly exaggerated and undeniably fake.

After the fact, Dylan stayed a bit longer, despite your unnoticeable displeasure. Your hair was mussed up and he had practically shredded your fishnets. After a few kisses goodbye, your boyfriend finally left the shop and you spent the next hour cleansing the space with incense, and crystals. Stevie Nicks crackling through the record player was there to comfort you when the stray tears began to fall down your cheeks and you fiercely wiped them away.

You were torn from your thoughts when the front bell at the door chimed as Joel Miller strode in. You could smell the grease and oil on his clothes from the back room. You had grown so used to the car smell, thanks to your boyfriend but on Joel, it was different. Manly in a sense that it seemed to meld into his natural musk.

“Angel? Darlin’? You still back here? Sorry I’m a bit late. Got caught up working on a car back at the shop and lost track of time.” His warm Texas drawl sent your insides swirling.

You fixed your hair as best as you possibly could before you strode out between the beaded curtain. “Hey. Yeah, I’m still here. Shop is technically open till midnight. I use this time to work on sketches and just dick around for the most part. Speaking of sketches, I have yours done if you wanna take a peek?”

The first thing Joel noticed was your swollen lips, and sexed up hair. His eyes slightly went wide when he noticed how shredded your fishnet tights were basically just hanging on by a few remaining threads. “You finished them already? Yeah, I’d love to see ‘em. You work pretty fast darlin.’”

“Oh, you have no idea.” You set the Manila folder down before opening it and pulled out the two sketches. “So, I know you said like snakes and skulls and shit so I incorporated those along with a few other things. We can obviously make changes of course. I just figured this was a good starting point.”

Joel leaned his hands on either side of the countertop as he looked over the drawings and to say he was impressed, was an understatement. “Wow, these are like super fuckin’ sick. You’re beyond talented, Angel. Seriously, these are exactly what I was looking for.” Joel spoke while looking up into your eyes. His dark brown eyes were irresistibly inviting. They reminded you of what warm hugs on a cold day feel like.

“Really? Well I’m happy that I could deliver on what you wanted. Did you want to do color ink or just black and gray?”

“I think colored ink would look pretty cool. Might as well go all out with it, y’know?” He has a small grin tugging on his lips.

How long ago was it since your boyfriend came and fucked you? Couldn’t have been that long ago considering your state. Joel did wonder why your face didn’t possess that post sex glow. Was your boyfriend really that bad?

“Cool. I think colored ink will also stand out as well. I think you’ll be pleased with the results.” You responded while locking your eyes onto his. You couldn’t help but stare at this tatted up Texas man.

“Y’know Angel, it’s rude to stare like that. Is there somethin’ on my face?” Joel said in a teasing tone as a low chuckle vibrated up his chest.

“Sorry, you just have really fucking pretty eyes.” You blurted out suddenly. You nearly wanted to facepalm from how stupid that sounded. Really? His eyes were pretty? What are you, 15 years old?

“My eyes are pretty? Huh, I actually don’t think I’ve gotten that one before darlin.’” Joel sounded amused by your word vomited compliment.

“Yeah well..don’t let it get to your head all at once.” You muttered under your breath, nervously playing with a stray strand of the fishnet fabric dangling along your thighs.

“Are you alright, Angel? I ain’t makin’ ya nervous or anythin’ am I? Cause I can always leave—”

“Nervous?” You cut him off mid sentence. “Now why the hell would you go and say something like that, huh? I’m not nervous.” Your tone was sharp and defensive, as if you had any reason at all to feel shameful just for giving this handsome man a harmless compliment.

“Not even in the slightest?” Joel asked casually, eyebrow raised in your direction.

“No. I’m actually unbelievably frustrated right now. You know why? My stupid boyfriend didn’t let me fuckin’ cum. All because of the outfit I’m wearing. Well, what’s left of it and because I was smoking a cigarette when he showed up. I literally faked a fucking orgasm because it was that bad.” You spoke exasperatedly. You forgot that this wasn’t another one of your vents to your girlfriends. This was Joel Miller, a potential client.

Joel raised an eyebrow suggestively at your admittance. Your stupid boyfriend didn’t let you cum? Well that was fucking rude of him. What a dickhead. “S’okay darlin.’ Not gettin’ to cum is really fuckin’ frustratin’. Dude sounds like an absolute tool for that.” Joel stated casually. He didn’t want you to feel embarrassed for your frustrations. It was completely normal and you shouldn’t feel ashamed of it.

“Well, fuck me. I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to talk to potential clients about my sex life like that. I’m sorry for subjecting you to that Joel.”

“Sorry? What do you gotta be sorry for? If anyone should be apologizin’ it’s that boyfriend of yours. Especially for fucking up your fishnets like that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were attacked by a dog in the alley or somethin.’”

“Normally I would find that kind of thing hot, but he tore them because he hates them. It was literally the most unsexy thing imaginable. Felt more degrading if anything.”

Joel was silently figuring out his next move. You were visibly frustrated that your piece of shit boyfriend didn’t let you cum. Joel imagined that you would probably end up getting yourself off later when you were home. You could do that or there was a perfectly able set of hands right there on the counter. Thick, veiny, and calloused from hard work.

“Look, Angel. I don’t mean to be oversteppin’ any boundaries or nothin’ but if you’d like, I could help you out with releasing that frustration.”

Your mouth went dry at his suggestion. You hadn’t even known each other for a full day, and Joel Miller was already making provocative suggestions for you to use him to get yourself off. This was exactly why you knew that you and Joel were gonna get along just fine.

“Are you serious? I appreciate the offer but I could probably just use one of my vibrators at home when I close up shop.” You wanted to give him one last chance to back down. The idea of Joel Miller getting tied up with the likes of you was exciting no doubt, but he wasn’t your typical conquest. He seemed too nice to actually be down to please you in any way you requested. Or, so you thought.

“I’m dead serious Angel. You can use me to get off. You think I’m gonna protest that?” Joel asked with a raise of his brow.

“You're making this really fucking difficult cowboy.” You spoke through gritted teeth. Your thighs squeezed together tightly as you thought about his thick digits—

“Is this turning you on? Don’t feel ashamed or anythin’ okay? Seriously. I am more than happy to help out on your own terms darlin.’” Ain’t gonna pressure you or nothin.’”

You subconsciously took your lower lip between your teeth as you rubbed your thighs together. “Come with me.” You tilted your head to the side, signaling him to follow you to the back room.

Joel’s feet were moving quicker than his mind could process as he slipped past the beaded curtain following you.

“I only want you to use your hands, alright? Just your hands. You can play with my pussy, finger me. Do whatever you want but with your hands alone. You got that?” You were already propping yourself up on the padded bench, spreading your thighs open. Joel got a glimpse of your hot pink panties under your short, barely legal denim skirt.

“Christ, okay. Just my hands. Got it. You really don’t waste any time do ya?” Joel swallowed hard as he sank down on the cushioned stool, rolling to a stop in front of your spread thighs.

“Yeah, and I’m getting impatient already. Please just fucking touch me already Joel.”

“Needy little thing. I bet my words alone got you soakin’ through those cute little hot pink panties of yours. Should we look and see if I’m right?” He grasped onto your inner thighs, gently spreading them apart further. He could see the obvious wet patch on the front of your panties as he let out a low chuckle. “Oh, your pussy is wet alright darlin.’ Soaked right through your panties.”

“Mother fucker. Get on with it already or so help me—oh.”

Joel had pulled your panties to the side, using his pointer and middle finger to spread your slick folds open to his greedy eyes. “Mmm. You got a really pretty pussy Angel. She’s so pretty. So wet, soft, needy. I hope you keep me around long enough that I get to have a taste of her. Bet she tastes so fuckin’ sweet.” He hummed, gently rubbing his thumb across your clit in tight little circles.

“Keep that up and I will definitely keep you around long enough to have a taste. Fuck, that feels nice.” Your lips parted open as a soft sigh slipped past them.

“The only goal in my mind right now is to make sure you cum. I’m a man of my word, darlin.’” He rasped, continuing to rub tight, delicious circles against your clit. He was watching the way your pussy clenched around air. He could only imagine just how tight you’d feel around his fingers.

“Fuck, Joel. I’m gonna need a little more than that if you’re gonna get me to cum. Don’t be shy.”

“I know Angel. Just getting her all warmed up for me. Wanna make sure you’ll be thinking of me when you fall asleep tonight and not that stupid boyfriend of yours.” He said with a low growl while his middle and pointer finger were lightly teasing your entrance. He watched your face as he slowly slipped them inside of your wet, tight pussy. He felt the way your walls immediately clenched around his thick digits as he curled them inwards.

“Oh fuck. I knew they were gonna feel nice inside of me but I didn’t know they were gonna feel this good. Don’t worry. I won’t be thinking about anyone but you when I fall asleep tonight.”

Joel hummed in approval as he started to slowly pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them each time to hit the sensitive spongy spot inside of you. His thumb continued to rub tight circles against your clit, applying just enough pressure to send a wave of pleasure up your spine as your toes curled inwards.

“Your pussy is clenching so tight around my fingers Angel. You hear the way she’s purring for me? Mmm. Does your stupid boyfriend ever get you off like this baby? With just his fingers? That’s how a real man can make his woman cum. However the fuck she likes it. Fingers, tongue, his cock. You know that, right? You deserve to cum every fucking time Angel.”

He pumped his fingers faster, listening to the sweet sounds of your pussy squelching around his fingers as he fucked them into you. This was by far the most erotic encounter he had ever had with anyone. You brought the filth right out from between his lips.

“No—no. He never does. He just likes to fuck me. He won’t even go down on me. Even when I ask nicely. It’s never about me.” You let out a low moan, rocking your hips into his hand as your orgasm began to bubble in the pit of your stomach.

“Are you fucking serious? He’s never?—well, that just ain’t fuckin’ right. What a fuckin’ loser. His loss. I’ll eat your pussy till your seeing fuckin’ stars baby.” He pumped his fingers faster, determined to make sure you properly came. That he took care of you the way that you deserved.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you bucked your hips into his hand, desperate for more as the tight cord in your belly was begging to snap. You panted out Joel’s name, mixed in with sharp profanities.

“That’s it baby. Keep fucking yourself on my fingers. Get yourself off on me Angel. You close baby doll? Gonna get you there, I fuckin’ promise.” His thumb circled around your clit faster, matching up with the rhythm and speed of his digits curling and pumping inside of you. He hit that soft spongy spot one more time before you were coming undone around his fingers, soaking them in your cum.

You let out a mix between a sob, and moan as you felt the white hot pleasure shoot up your spine. Just like how your cum coated his fingers, the orgasm you experienced wrapped your brain in a delicious fluffy cloud. It enveloped you in a comforting warmth. Joel had a praise kink. That was pretty damn obvious from the way he was still talking you through it as your hips bucked into his hand, riding out the post orgasm high.

“Shh. I got you Angel. You’re safe. Felt good didn’t it? Look at you, you’re so pretty after getting fucked by my fingers. So fucking pretty.” He gently slipped his fingers out, admiring how you had coated them completely. You watched with a hazy, post orgasm stare as he slipped his fingers into mouth, sucking your cum off them. It was so fucking hot to see.

Much to your surprise, Joel had taken a paper towel from your supply bench and gently wiped between your thighs, chuckling when he felt your thighs quiver when the fibers of the paper towel brushed against your clit. “Easy. You’re alright. A little sensitive, huh?” He tossed the paper towel in the nearby trash before he gently fixed your panties.

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special Joel.” You spoke breathlessly as you slowly sat up on your elbows.

“I was raised to be a gentleman, no matter the circumstances, and I’m a man of my word Angel.” He offered you his hand as he gently lifted you from the padded bench. You were a bit wobbly on your feet so he wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you steady. “It’s pretty late and I wanna make sure you get home safe after locking up. Can I drive you home please?”

“I’m technically on the clock for another hour but after that? I’m exhausted. Normally I take the bus, but I accept your offer.”

Joel helped you lock up the shop for the night, flipping the lights off and locking the front door. You weren’t surprised to see that this man had a motorcycle and you gave him a little grin when he held out a spare helmet to you. He revved the engine lightly as you climbed on behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle and pressed your cheek against his back as he sped off into the night.

You were in a state of bliss, feeling the wind whipping against your face as you tightened your grip around his middle. You couldn’t see his face, but you just had a feeling that Joel was smiling. The ride to your little apartment was a short one as you told him the directions. He helped you off his bike, walked you up to your front door and didn’t leave till you had safely locked your apartment door behind you. In the midst of it, you exchanged phone numbers. It wasn’t 100% necessary but like Joel said, he was raised to be a gentleman under all circumstances.

Tag List: @chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @lovers-liability @korynnekorynne @loquaciousferret @cutesyscreenname @yazsos @kirsteng42 @777-wonders @last-girl @tinygarbage @wonder-harley @casa-boiardi @alwaysdjarin @bellaramseygfsblog @pedgeitopascalreads

142 notes · View notes

venus-haze · 2 years

Text

Ever Fallen in Love? (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: You underestimated what you were taking on when you married Elvis, feeling more and more helpless as he seems to be slipping away from you at the hands of people who have little interest in anything but exploiting him. Despite your good intentions, things don’t go as planned when you confront Elvis about the people he surrounds himself with and his troubling reliance on the cocktail of pills Dr. Nick prescribes him.

Note: This is based on a request by @holy-minseok. Reader is a woman but no other descriptors are used. This was more angsty than the yandere fics I write but still dark, so I hope I did the request justice. I did make myself kinda sad writing it. I listened to Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve?) by Buzzcocks a lot while working on this. I used ‘vaporial’ at one point, and I’m not sure if that even is a word. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Depictions of drug abuse, violence, fighting, blood and generally dark content which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Literally the exact opposite of what you’re supposed to do for someone who’s struggling with drug addiction. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Being married to Elvis wasn’t easy, as you stood in the long shadow of women who came before you, from the ever-present specter of his mother to his ex-wife of less than a year. You weren’t sure why exactly you’d agreed to marry Elvis after only dating for a few months, perhaps your bleeding heart over the man’s loneliness made you informally agree to be the one to help him emotionally exorcize his demons. Instead, you found yourself flustered and exhausted at the amount of people who, for one reason or another, were content with enabling your husband’s decline.

For as much as they claimed to care for him, you’d often butt heads with members of the so-called Memphis Mafia, finding as time went on they could hardly be considered friends, more like leeches. Having Jerry on your side helped, especially since he was pretty much Elvis’ right-hand man and had the same concerns you did. You didn’t trust the Colonel as far as you could throw him, and Vernon’s own disregard for his son’s well-being shocked you. While you certainly didn’t consider yourself anything close to a saint, you wondered how the hell Elvis ended up surrounded by ‘yes men’ who could give a damn.

You knew there were plenty of people whispering falsehoods about you in his ear—selfish, petty, gold-digger, to name a few. While your relationship with Elvis did start as a fling, you found that he was kind and generous, and it was easy to get caught up in conversations with him about everything from religion to the blues. Things became serious rather quickly, but you didn’t realize how serious until one night, when Elvis presented you with a gold charm bracelet with his initials hanging from the chain. The gift was meant to be a dainty accessory since you weren’t a flashy person and would often forget to wear the TCB necklace he’d already given you. Despite this, the bracelet was your proverbial albatross as the glittering EP tapped against your wrist day and night as if dictating your pulse.

Of course you loved Elvis, perhaps to a fault, but his reliance on the prescription pills Dr. Nick gave him, most of which you couldn’t even pronounce, troubled you deeply. You understood why it was the final straw for Priscilla and knew how much of an uphill battle you faced if even she couldn’t get through to Elvis. To your relief, Priscilla liked you, and since she and Elvis were still close, you’d update her on how he was doing. You hoped that between the two of you, somehow you could get Elvis to go to rehab before things got even farther out of hand.

It seemed hopeless, though. When you felt like you were making leeway during the months at Graceland with him, he was thrown back into the lion's den with his contractually obligated Vegas residency. The past month was enough to undo your convincing that he didn’t need the pills and was better off without them, because there was no way he could humanly perform two shows a day, three on weekends, in Vegas without something. While he welcomed you staying in Vegas with him during his residency, you had little choice but to watch helplessly as he slipped back into the destructive cycle. Part of you wished you had just stayed behind in Graceland, but that would have made you just as complacent.

The evening leading up to yet another set of shows in Elvis’ eternal residency at the International was more hectic than usual, conspiracy in the air as Jerry had rushed over to Elvis with urgency you’d never seen before. You could hardly keep up with their strides as they walked down the long hallway. Jerry was speaking to Elvis in a hushed tone, something about the Colonel. While you strained to hear what Jerry was saying, it must have been a bombshell, because Elvis stopped in his tracks for a moment before collapsing to the ground.

Immediately, you dropped to his side, your hands shaking as you frantically wracked your brain as to what you should do. Everything was a blur when you started crying, babbling for someone to help Elvis. You felt frustration toward yourself at being so helpless in the situation, so close to losing the man you loved that it made you almost sick.

Ice cold water splashed onto your clothes as Elvis’ head was dunked into a bucket a few times in an attempt to bring him back to consciousness. You sniffled as a nurse held his head up a bit as he slowly came to. The water did little to hide the cold sweat that had overtaken his body, his hand clammy in yours. He was exhausted, and the visible rage and a hint of fear that gleamed in his eyes when the Colonel rushed over made you move in front of Elvis, as if to shield him.

“I don’t think he should—“ you began, only to quickly be cut off.

“The only thing that matters is getting that man on that stage tonight,” the Colonel said.

“On stage? He just about died, and you want him on stage?”

“Well, this is a Presley Enterprises decision since it affects tonight’s performance, all of the fans who’ve been eager to see his show,” the Colonel said, looking at Vernon.

“If he were my son, I’d take him to the hospital,” the nurse by his side said.

You nodded. “Let him rest, please.”

“I—is there anything Dr. Nick can do?” Vernon asked weakly.

You felt like you’d gotten punched in the gut. “You all should be ashamed of yourselves. He could have died, and all you care about is getting more money out of him until there’s nothing left of him. I swear to god, you people disgust me!”

“Mrs. Presley is clearly hysterical. Please, would someone escort her elsewhere,” the Colonel said, glaring at you.

“Fuck you! He’s my husband; you can’t do this to him!”

You watched helplessly as Dr. Nick grabbed a syringe out of his bag while you were being practically dragged away from the scene. Jerry wrapped an arm around you, and you covered your face with your hands, sobbing as Elvis was injected with whatever poison Nick had on him.

Just as quickly as Elvis was helped up, he was escorted away, presumably to his dressing room. You couldn’t believe the callousness you’d just witnessed toward your husband.

Sniffling, you looked at Jerry. “What did you say to him?”

“I’ll tell you while we catch up with them,” he said.

You and Jerry trailed well behind the rest of the group ushering Elvis away, speaking in hushed tones as Jerry shocked you with his revelations about the Colonel. When you had first met the man, you expressed as nicely as possible to Elvis that you had a bad feeling about him, and he’d light-heartedly told you in passing that his mother didn’t like the Colonel either, as if it were some ‘girl thing’. As upset and outraged as you were, you couldn’t imagine being in your husband’s shoes, putting your whole career in the hands of a man whose existence was vaporial, only visible through lies and cigar smoke.

There was nothing you could do about the Colonel, it was a business matter. As you’d frustratingly discovered not long after marrying Elvis, most people regarded you as vapid arm candy rather than his partner. You did have some sway in Elvis’ decision making, and at least hoped to talk him out of performing that night and to reconsider who he allowed to be part of TCB–his Memphis Mafia. Besides the Colonel, Dr. Nick was at the top of your shit list for how unaffected he seemed at your husband’s collapsing earlier. Wouldn’t a regular doctor order bed rest?

You felt like you had a cement block in your stomach as you knocked on the door to Elvis’ dressing room. The two of you had a secret knock, childish as it was, but you couldn’t help but give in to the mischievous glint in his eyes when he first proposed the idea to you. It was something you loved about Elvis, he was funny, always with something up his sleeve to keep things interesting and make people laugh. Perhaps that would contribute to his downfall, his need to please, to keep the peace and avoid so much of the conflict he’d experienced growing up.

“Hey,” you said, entering the dressing room to find him sitting on the couch, still in his robe. “You doing alright?”

“Been better,” he said, giving you a tired smile that made your chest contract.

“Baby, you don’t have to do this,” you whispered, sitting next to him.

He shook his head. “I gotta go up there, mama. The fans—“

“Can wait. You’re not feeling well.”

“I’m fine now.”

“Elvis—“

“Just leave it, Y/N,” he said.

You closed the small distance between you and Elvis, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest. “I love you so much.”

He kissed your forehead. “I love you too. Now go on, I’ll see you after the show.”

You nodded, giving him a kiss before getting up to leave, feeling dejected as ever. Turning around, you took him in, your heart lurching at how visibly unwell he was. There was no way the crowd wouldn’t notice, certainly not the audience members in the front row. They’d be able to see him under the stage lights, how clammy and pallid he looked. In what you assumed would be the more unfortunate reality, they wouldn’t care as long as they got to see your husband run himself ragged for their entertainment while they threw back drinks–bread and circuses while you came so close to losing him.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on you. The world loved Elvis, but no one seemed to care about him. His humanity was an inconvenience to them, that he was indeed a man with physical limitations, was a flaw, not a feature. Those snakes would sooner parade him around on strings for a few extra bucks than let him get the rest he needed.

While you normally watched at least one of Elvis’ nightly shows during his residency, you couldn’t stomach it after what had happened before. He hardly got much of a break in between shows, and so you spent the next few hours in the suite, your emotions shifting between sorrow and rage over the treatment of your husband.

You considered calling Priscilla at several points in the night, but decided it could wait until the morning. There wouldn't be much she could do on such short notice, and even still, it’d take time for her to find someone to watch Lisa and then get from LA to Vegas. You wondered if Elvis would even listen to her.

It felt like far too soon, yet not soon enough when Elvis finally returned, hardly able to walk straight after forcing himself to perform through two shows. You fought back tears at his state. He looked so tired and worn out, and if earlier was any indication, it was catching up with him faster than anyone expected. Logically, you knew it wasn’t the right time to bring it up, but you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Part of you worried that if you waited until the following day, it’d all be a blur to him.

“I need to talk to you about what happened earlier,” you said.

He waved you off. “Save it.”

“No, this is important. All of the shit about the Colonel is just the tip of the iceberg, and you know it.”

“Jerry told you?”

“I got the gist, yeah. I hate seeing you get taken advantage of by these people.”

“I can look after my own damn self, Y/N.”

“I just want to help you,” you pleaded. “I love you.”

“Then get off my back!”

“It’s not good for you, all the shit Dr. Nick gives you. Jerry agrees with me, and Priscilla—“

“What’s she got to do with it? She don’t want nothin’ to do with me, and don’t think I don’t hear you whisperin’ on the phone to her ‘bout how much you can’t wait to leave me too.”

“She calls because she’s worried about you. Sometimes she doesn’t hear from you for weeks.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as you spoke. In the months you’d been with Elvis, he had never expressed such cruel disdain for you until that moment. You couldn’t even recall him speaking negatively about Priscilla, of all people. It wasn’t him, not really. You tried to tell yourself it was the junk making him this way, but your vision blurred with tears at the realization that you never really knew him without it.

“Can you please just listen to me?” you implored. “You’re lucky all that happened earlier was that you passed out. What if it was something worse?”

“Then you get it all, mama,” he said, gesturing around the suite.

You looked at him in silent disbelief for a few moments before finally responding with, “I don’t care about that. Don’t you see how much you’re hurting me and everyone else who cares about you? Hey! Where are you—“

He shook his head, walking into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. As you approached, you could hear the rattling of pills in a plastic bottle and felt rage build up inside you, white-hot and blinding. You opened the unlocked door, smacking the multi-colored pills out of your husband’s hand.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked in disbelief as they scattered across the tile floor.

“Me? You’re killing yourself!”

“That’s my business!”

You balled up your fists at your side. “Well you married me, so your business is mine too.”

He stood frozen in shock as you opened several of the dozen or so pill bottles on the counter and began dumping them into the toilet. Sure, it was the exact opposite of every effective way to confront a loved one struggling with addiction that you’d read about, but if it was going to get his attention, you were willing to deal with the fallout. You felt a bit of relief as you watched the pills disappear down the drain when you flushed the toilet as you enacted what would probably be considered the worst intervention possible.

As you picked up more bottles, Elvis seemed to come to his senses and grabbed your wrist, squeezing in an attempt to make you drop them. Feeling the bracelet he’d gifted you digging into your skin, you haplessly threw some of the bottles at the mirror. You weren’t sure what you were trying to accomplish when the glass shattered onto the counter and floor.

You heard Elvis grunt something about you being psycho as he tried to get you to drop the rest of the bottles. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the struggle reflected in the hundreds of glass shards that littered the floor as you tried to pull your wrist from his grip. Fueled by little more than adrenaline and determination, you’d be damned if you wouldn’t see it through to the end.

“I’m trying to help you! You can’t keep going on like this!”

“Help? Look what you did!” he argued.

Elvis was stronger than you, and you knew he could really hurt you if he wanted to, but even though he was holding back, the force from him releasing his grip from around your wrist while you were still pulling it back sent you to the ground. You landed hard, your forearms breaking the fall but digging into the broken glass on the floor on impact.

He looked at you in horror as he saw the blood on the floor, fresh and coppery as it flowed from your arms. As he stumbled back against the counter, you noticed his knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of it behind him. His breathing was heavy as he took in the state of the room, the state of you, in horror.

“Darlin’,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

You hissed as you sat up. “I know.”

“Jesus, let me call you a doctor.”

“Not Nick.”

He nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “‘Course not.”

Pushing yourself up to sit against the wall, you looked around the bathroom and sighed. If you didn’t know any better, it’d have been something out of a murder scene from the broken glass to the blood smeared in the floor. Perhaps it would end up being fitting, a physical manifestation of the death of yours and Elvis’ relationship. You doubted he’d want anything to do with you after what you’d just pulled and wouldn’t blame him if he ended up serving you divorce papers in the following days.

You noticed your bracelet had broken and slid across the floor, his initials imprinted on your wrist from the pressure he’d put on the charm. You stared at the imprint, hoping your focus would distract from the pain in your arms. He hesitantly returned to the bathroom, chewing his bottom lip as he leaned against the door frame. It was almost as if he was afraid to get too close to you while the two of you waited for whatever help he called to arrive. If you were in his position, you’d be afraid of you too.

Taglist: @eliseinmemphis @crash-and-cure @kittenlittle24 @im-lame-irl @loudwombatmugkid @rxsesss @roseymary04 @queendelrey @jovialladyaurora @positivitylane112 @moonknightswif3 @holy-minseok @datsavageavenger @21bruhs @luckyevansstan @djsjs13949 @butlerslut @ash-omalley @powerofelvis @sad-bisexual-bitch�� @peachy-deaths @kibumslatina @adoreyouusugar @raefoxiegirl @donnamarie23 @ilovehobi101 @memphis-menace @animeketsu-yander @phhistheloml @dkayfixates

#elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis #elvis 2022

264 notes · View notes

gatheringbones · 1 year

Text

[“Oh, Frederick is such an interesting man!” she said enthusiastically. “There’s just so much going on with him: You never know what’s going to happen next, and he’s so complex. I’ve never been involved with someone who was such a mystery.”

As we talked further, I began to see that instead of responding emotionally to the way Frederick treated her—the put-downs, the freeze-outs, the insistence that she turn down trips or avoid her friends—Nella was responding intellectually to “the problem of Frederick.” Why did he behave in such a difficult, demanding way? What was behind his need to insult her or stop speaking to her? Was there a way to tell when the insults would stop and the freeze-outs begin, so that she could avoid them? And what about those special times when Frederick suddenly opened up to her, confessing his deepest fears and weaknesses? How could he be so trusting one minute, so suspicious the next? Maybe his mother had something to do with it. Or perhaps it was his older sister. Nella could spend hours happily analyzing her difficult boyfriend.

If Nella were to respond emotionally to her experience, she might quickly tire of being treated with such little regard. But she kept herself interested in the relationship by thinking about it. Nella had developed a Stage 2 version of the Explanation Trap. Instead of finding the abusive aspects of Frederick frustrating, painful, or off-putting, she found them interesting, because they offered her so many opportunities to come up with explanations. In fact, before going out with Frederick, Nella had been involved with a man who sounded to me like a much steadier, nicer guy. When I asked about him, Nella readily agreed that her previous boyfriend had treated her very well indeed. But, she told me, that man simply wasn’t as interesting as Frederick.

Nella’s frank description of her interest in Frederick’s abusiveness made me aware of a contrast I’d noticed in many women, myself included. When we’re involved with people who don’t treat us so well, our relationships preoccupy us a great deal. There’s always a lot to think about, talk about, analyze. With a nicer, more reliable person, the relationship doesn’t offer as much food for thought. We enjoy it, sure, but it doesn’t take up nearly so much of our time or focus. When our romantic partner (or friend, or boss) is taking care of himself—coming forward with attention and affection; managing his own feelings; expressing his dissatisfactions in polite, appropriate ways—there simply isn’t as much for us to do. So, like many women involved in Stage 2 gaslighting, Nella seemed to be more interested in the drama and analysis involved in a bad relationship than in the relatively mundane experience of a good one. Instead of seeing her relationship as a bulwark of support or a steady source of love, it was as though Nella were viewing it as a particularly challenging math problem, whose very difficulty was a major source of interest.”]

robin stern, the gaslight effect

#robin stern #brainspace #cw abuse #currently reading

121 notes · View notes

cantstoptheimagines · 2 years

Text

Cupcake (Billy Hargrove | Stranger Things)

Summary — Billy confesses that he hasn’t celebrated his birthday in a long time.

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Mentions of abuse, along with Billy’s mother; cursing; mentions of cigarettes and smoking; mentions of sex, but no actual smut; Billy being emotionally closed off; hurt/comfort, so tears will be shed; feeding Billy cake, I guess.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 2,515. ➳ Reader is gender neutral (they/them). ➳ Billy’s birthday is March 29, 1967.

“Why didn’t you tell me tomorrow’s your birthday?”

Billy’s eyebrows rose at your sudden question. His eyes weren’t visible behind his dark sunglasses as he slowly turned his head to look at you. He had parked his Camaro in front of your house. The sun was going down, which meant he needed to be home soon, and the golden glow against his skin almost sent shivers down your spine.

With his window rolled down, his elbow rested against his car door. He tapped his palm against the blue exterior before moving his hand to place his sunglasses atop his head. He then closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he kissed his teeth.

“Who told you about that?”

“I have my sources.”

Billy scoffed at your answer. He pulled his hand away from his face, but refused to look at you, despite feeling your eyes on him. He huffed and shook his head, “And by that, you mean Max?”

“Maybe, or maybe not,” you muttered, “but that doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, like you said,” he answered, finally looking at you with a bored expression, “it doesn’t matter.”

“Billy,” you groaned, reaching out to gently shake his shoulder in an effort to loosen him up, “please.”

He turned away, but allowed your hand to remain on the shoulder of his leather jacket. Feeling his emotions rising, he quickly pulled out his lighter and a cigarette. He was puffing out smoke within seconds.

With the cigarette hanging from his lips, along with your hand rubbing his shoulder, he muttered, “When you’ve got an old man like mine, you don’t celebrate birthdays.”

He fell quiet after that. You paused in your movements, biting your lip. You knew about Billy’s father as well as the hurt he had caused his son over the years. Of course, Billy hadn’t told you everything about their tumultuous relationship, but you knew enough to realize that his household wasn’t a kind place.

You remembered the first time the two of you slept together. Billy had tugged off the fabric of his shirt, kissing you heatedly, only for things to slow down when you felt the deep scars on his bare back. And how he had refused to tell you where they came from, simply deciding to distract you, along with himself, with feelings of pleasure instead.

But when he had finally fallen asleep next to you, with your blanket barely covering his hips and his back directed towards you, you had traced your fingertips against his sun-kissed skin as he snored softly. You had wondered what kind of monster would harm someone like that.

You remembered how you had decided to hold Billy a little closer that night, how you never wanted to let go.

After that, you had started paying more attention. You noticed the dark bruises he tried to unsuccessfully hide from your view. The way he always made you wait in the Camaro if he ever needed to stop by his house while you were together, along with how he tried to avoid that scenario as much as possible. How he glared at Max and ordered her to keep quiet if she ever brought up a man named Neil.

You had noticed each of those little moments. And you had continued noticing them until they had culminated together into one, in which Billy finally told you the bare minimum. He had told you about his mother leaving when he was young and his father’s abusive habits, though he never went into very much detail about any of it. He wanted to keep you as far away from his home life as possible.

So whenever a moment like this occurred, it meant that Billy had decided to let you in a little more than he usually did. And you were grateful for it.

“When was the last time?”

Billy released another bout of smoke. Holding the cigarette between his fingers, his eyebrows furrowed as he answered, “Couple months before Mom left.”

Fuck, you thought. That was years ago.

Billy’s father had truly ruined everything for his son. This was one of those moments when you wished that you could barge into Billy’s house and give his father what he deserved. But that wouldn’t happen. Not now anyway.

Because Billy was finally opening up. His locked heart was breaking away from its chains for a brief moment in time. You couldn’t let that go to waste.

“Hey.”

Billy tossed the cigarette out of his car window before turning to you at the sound of your quiet whisper. Your hand moved from his shoulder, gently shifting to cup his cheek. Despite his attempts to control himself, Billy’s eyelashes fluttered and he leaned into your palm at the feeling of your thumb softly caressing his skin.

“I love you, Billy.”

One of his hands wrapped around your wrist while the other placed itself on the back of your neck. Without a second thought, Billy pulled you into a searing kiss. You barely had an opportunity to breathe as he brought your body even closer to him. His actions only caused the center console of the car to dig into your torso.

With furrowed brows, Billy finally pulled away. He breathed heavily as his fingertips stroked over the skin of your forearm. He pressed another kiss against your lips before forcing himself to back away again. He didn’t want to leave, but knew he had to unless he wanted to be in deep shit for missing his ‘curfew’, which always seemed to suddenly change any time his father felt like taking out his frustrations.

“Go inside,” he muttered, reluctantly shifting his hand from the back of your neck to the handle of the passenger side door.

Your hand fell back onto Billy’s shoulder when he leaned across your body. His hand remained on your wrist while the other shoved open the car door for you to leave. Despite his demands, Billy didn’t want you to go yet. He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes tightly shut once again, while your noses lightly grazed against one another.

Using your hand to push some of his blond curls behind his ear, you whispered, “Goodnight, Billy.”

He took in your warmth and the smell of your shampoo as you wrapped him in a tight hug. Finally departing, Billy watched as you closed the car door behind you and hurried to the entrance of your home. He chuckled when you turned to blow him a kiss, which he pretended to catch in his fist with a smirk on his face.

Billy didn’t turn his Camaro back on until your front door was securely closed behind you. Sliding his sunglasses back over his eyes, he tapped the steering wheel to the beat of the music coming from the radio as he drove off into the setting sun.

The next afternoon, Billy was suspicious the moment you had bounded out of your house and into his car. You had called him earlier that morning, practically begging to go to Lovers’ Lake.

So here he was, reluctantly allowing you to sit on the hood of his precious Camaro while he leaned against it with a cigarette between his fingertips. He furrowed his eyebrows when he felt you reach into his shirt pocket. He grasped your hand, pressing it against his chest with a smirk.

“Lookin’ for a good time?”

You smiled when he leaned in to kiss you. Billy, however, quickly found that he made a mistake by keeping your hand against his chest. You were able to hold him back, lips brushing against his, as you asked, “Can I borrow your lighter?”

His smirk widened, “Depends. What do I get out of it?”

You gave him a small smile. Wrapping your hand in the fabric of his shirt, you closed the gap between your lips. Billy groaned when you pulled away far too soon for his liking.

“Is that good enough?”

Billy remained close to you as he rolled his eyes. He turned to glance over the lake before focusing on you once more. His gaze flickered over your face, and then he huffed, “For now.”

You grinned when he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his lighter. He placed it in the palm of your hand. He rolled his eyes again when you gently shoved him back to his former position of leaning against his car. His sharp eyes followed your movements as you went to the passenger door, leaning in to pull something from a plastic bag that you had brought with you.

He couldn’t tell what you were doing or why you needed his lighter. Instead of questioning your odd behavior, he quietly scoffed and turned away, focusing his attention on the lake in front of him.

But the quiet didn’t last long.

Billy blinked in surprise, grabbing your wrist when you suddenly shoved something in front of his face. Leaning back, he tossed his cigarette aside and raised his eyebrows. His lip curled at the object in your hands.

With a small smile, you held a paper plate with a brightly decorated cupcake. In the center of the dessert was a single, lit candle. The icing was a pastel shade of blue and there were a few sprinkles scattered across the top.

“What the hell is that?”

You quietly laughed, easily pulling your wrist out of his grip, still holding the cupcake for him to see, “It’s for you.”

His brows furrowed, nose scrunching while he shook his head and tried his best to act clueless, feigning confusion. He glanced between you and the cupcake, refusing to speak.

“Happy birthday, Billy.”

He licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. His jaw clenched, unsure of what to say. Billy prided himself on being stubborn, but as he stared at the burning candle, decorated in the colors of a rainbow, he felt his emotions getting the better of him.

His eyes burned, his throat closed, and his chest felt tight. He could feel heat creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks, embarrassed by his own reaction. He looked down at his heavy boots as he struggled to breathe evenly.

“Oh, Billy,” you whispered, “don’t cry.”

He could vaguely make out your hands sitting the paper plate on the hood of his car from his peripheral vision. The candle continued to burn as your palms traced along his biceps. One hand moved wrapped around his shoulders while the other weaved itself into his blond curls.

Billy didn’t hug you back, but he didn’t push you away either. His arms remained crossed as you gently eased his head onto your shoulder, allowing him to hide his face against your neck. His breathing continued to shudder through his nose while he bit his lip and closed his eyes.

“I’m not fucking crying.”

You smiled softly, knowing how overwhelming his emotions must be at the moment. Wetness sprouted from beneath his eyelashes as tears forced their way through and quickly cascaded along your skin. You held him close, slowly rocking from side to side in an effort to comfort him. The hand on his back began rubbing gentle circles against his clothing.

“I love you, Billy,” you muttered, pressing a soft kiss against his head before hiding your face in his thick hair. “I love you so much. Did you know that?”

He nodded against you. He allowed you to continue your actions of rubbing circles on his back, gently stroking his hair, kissing his head and temple, and rocking back and forth in soft waves. He listened silently as you carried on whispering quietly in his ear.

“I love you.”

“You make me so happy.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“You’re so pretty, and strong.”

“You make me feel safe.”

“You’re my favorite boy.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

Billy could’ve stayed in your arms like that forever. As he allowed himself to cry for the first time in years, he knew that he was never going to let you slip through his fingers and fade away. You were his, and no one was going to take you away from him.

He finally pulled his face away from your neck after what seemed like an eternity. His eyes remained closed as he pressed his forehead against yours. He sighed when he felt your hands slowly move to rest against his face, cupping his jawline and wiping away any remaining tears with the pads of your thumbs.

His eyes fluttered open, and then his arms unraveled themselves. His hands slid around your back, tugging you against him, as he asked, “You gonna let me blow out that candle or not?”

You smiled, pulling him for a quick kiss. You then reached out to grab the paper plate, holding the cupcake between the two of you. Though the flame was still going, it was much smaller than it had been when you first lit the candle.

Billy quickly blew out the flame with a soft smile. He watched as you pulled the candle from the icing, setting it aside before removing the cupcake liner. You then tore off a small piece of the cupcake. Billy allowed you to feed him the dessert, slowly, piece by piece.

“What did you wish for?”

Billy smirked at you, furrowing his brows and shaking his head, “I can’t tell you that.”

Your mouth fell open as you released a surprised scoff, “Are you serious? You’re really not gonna tell me?!”

“Yes, I’m serious. There’s no way I’m telling you,” he chuckled, taking pleasure in the way you pleaded for an answer. “It won’t come true if I do.”

He grinned when you gave a dramatic huff. Your lips transformed into a pout, and then you asked, “Can you at least tell me if it was about me?”

“Now,” he began, far too smug for your liking, “why would I do that?”

You scoffed again, though you had started to grin, “Because... if it was about me... then I could definitely make it come true!”

“Is that so?”

“Of course!”

Billy chuckled as you fed him the last morsel of his cupcake, quickly swallowing the dessert. He let you set the plate on the hood of his Camaro before pulling your body flush against his own, grinning arrogantly when you let out a surprised yelp. His hands greedily ran over your clothing as he leaned in.

Lips hovering over yours, he preened under your gaze, and then muttered, “Then get in the back seat... because I wished for birthday sex.”

Billy laughed at the sound of your squeal when he suddenly lifted your feet off the ground. He kissed you excitedly, somehow managing to open the car door without dropping you. As he maneuvered the two of you into the back seat, hovering over your body and pulling his shirt over his head, he took joy in the way you smiled at him when he leaned in to kiss you once more.

“Happy birthday, Billy.”

“Thanks, cupcake.”

#2022 #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove x reader #cupcake

604 notes · View notes

heyclickadee · 1 year

Text

Some Tipping Point Thoughts about Crosshair (mostly):

1. There is a small part of me that is a little suspicious that Crosshair was allowed to partially escape on purpose, buuuuuut Emerie wasn’t the one who put that blaster within Crosshair’s reach, and she looked genuinely frightened when she realized that Crosshair really was going to stun her. It was one of the stormtroopers who put that blaster there, and, yes, it was a stupid move, but no one ever accused stormtroopers of being smart.

2. “Pushed to the limits of his extreme in the most heartbreaking way,” didn’t just apply to “The Outpost,” I see.

3. Speaking of blasters, these early stormtrooper blasters are the cheapest looking blasters I’ve ever seen in a star war—and I mean that as a compliment to the show. Those things look and feel like something that would be mass produced without much concern for quality or durability, which is exactly the Empire’s approach to the stormtroopers themselves.

4. Sooooo…this might sound counterintuitive, but this episode really put the final kibosh in any lingering worries I had that they’re killing Crosshair this season. You don’t do something like this (gestures broadly at Crosshair’s whole thing) and then kill them off. Especially not in some kind of redemptive self-sacrificial death. Especially when what we watched him do in this episode is so pointedly self-sacrificial. Crosshair might try to die for his family in the next two episodes, but there’s no way the narrative is going to let that happen. There’s no way to kill him off right now that isn’t empty, no way to have him die for anyone that doesn’t make the other person look careless by comparison (if only because viewers react to stories emotionally as much as they do otherwise), and no way to end his story in a way that isn’t just an ocean of untouched possibilities. The writers are sitting on a narrative gold mine with this character and I think they know that, otherwise they could have just let him die on that platform. And I’m stoked, because this means that we’re going to get to watch these characters deal with the difficult mess that’s going to be rebuilding their relationships.

5. Crosshair loves his family SO DAMN MUCH.

6. Evil thought: What if the batch gets to him, and he doesn’t realize they’re really there at first? I mean…he’s going to live, and he’s not getting brainwashed, but he is almost definitely going to be in a lot of pain and potentially pretty disoriented. I could see him taking a few minutes to realize that they’re really there and they finally came for him (but OH NO they weren’t supposed to come for him this time WHAT ARE THEY DOING THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO HIDE).

7. Eviler thought: Man, I really hope Dr. Hemlock doesn’t clock the fact that Crosshair will take any and all abuse that’s thrown at him without complaint but will absolutely lose his shit if that same abuse is thrown at another clone.

8. The look on Crosshair’s face when Omega says, “You’re still their brother, Crosshair. You’re my brother too,” back in Kamino Lost is going to kill me ten times over after this episode.

9. I’m looking forward to the absolute murder we’ll get to see in Echo’s eyes once he sees what Hemlock’s been doing.

10. You know…I’m not sure Crosshair couldn’t have made it outside if he hadn’t stopped to send that warning—if sending the warning wasn’t his only goal in the first place. He could barely stand up straight and he still went through about eight people like they were tissue paper.

11. I don’t know what is up with Emerie besides definitely something, but I sort of like the idea that Crosshair stunned her instead of killing her because he maybe got the sense that she’s a prisoner, too.

12. You know, there sure are a lot of clones in Mount Tantiss. In the cells, being commandos. Sure would be a shame for Hemlock if they all revolted at the same time somehow (I feel like this is wishful thinking, but I can dream).

#the bad batch #tbb spoilers #tbbspoilers #the bad batch spoilers #crosshair bad batch #I have more thoughts but these are the only coherent ones

105 notes · View notes

0nlythrowharrybeaux · 1 year

Text

Young American - Part 13**

I told you guys it would get better! They talk about their past relationships and if you've been through situations like that it could be upsetting.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: talk of emotionally abusive relationships, unprotected sex.

WC: 6.4K

Harry stayed in a bad mood for the rest of the day, he really didn’t talk to anyone except Eddie and Auree. He wasn’t even looking in Y/N’s direction, much like things had been the first few months he had been at the shop. But this time it wasn’t because he was angry, he just couldn’t look at her without feeling so much hurt and embarrassment that it made his stomach twist in an awful way. He was self-sabotaging, falling back into old ways of behavior. Jumping to conclusions, being dismissive, victimizing himself… Harry hadn’t been in many relationships, but he is sad to say that the few he had been in weren’t all the great. The people he had been with had been manipulative and mean in the end, he’s not sure why he ended up with people like that. Maybe his naïveté appealed to leech-types, but he had learned a lot of his unpleasant traits from those people. One thing he noticed is that he would always be the one who got hurt, they never did and so when he felt threatened by someone, like Y/N all that time ago, he adopted one of those persona’s. He knew better than that, but sometimes things just got the best of him and he was really hard on himself for that and now he had done it again.

After taking a walk he realized that she was just confused because he had been the one who got upset over her denying that she was his girlfriend. She was right, they hadn’t talked about what their relationship was or where they might want it to go and maybe she hadn’t wanted to bring it up because he had asked for them to take it slow, her asking him to define the relationship was the opposite of taking it slow. So this had been his blunder and he now felt so embarrassed to the point that he couldn’t even look at her without feeling guilty about it. When the time came for Y/N to go Harry was still working on a client, so she didn’t even come say goodbye. He wanted to explain himself, but it didn’t look like that was going to be a possibility tonight.

Eddie sent everyone else home since Harry was the last one tattooing and he assured them he could close down. So in the end it was just them two and Harry’s client who was smiling as he looked over his finished product.

“That’s sick, man.”

“Yeah? Glad you like it.”

“I fucking love it.” He said and Harry smiled with pride. He got the guy all wrapped up and Eddie guided him out front to pay before they closed down. Harry cleaned up and Eddie helped him get things put away as well as they talked about the day.

“So, any plans for you tonight?” Eddie asked and Harry shook his head.

“Nope.” Harry mumbled as he finished wiping down the tattooing chair.

“I can’t believe you’ve been here for this long and you’ve got no one to get with for Valentine’s Day. Back home you couldn’t keep anyone off you.” Eddie joked and Harry chuckled, he did hook-up a lot in England.

“Just because I haven’t got plans it doesn’t mean I haven’t got anyone.” He said and Eddie turned to him in confusion.

“Are you with a married woman?” He asked and Harry laughed.

“No…such a knob.” He mumbled as Eddie laughed.

“Well if you haven’t got anything going on I reckon we should go have a drink. What’a you say? ” Eddie asked and this is how they found themselves at some dive bar near the beach. They were sharing garlic French fries and drinking beers as they chatted about how everything had been going for Harry and finally Eddie asked about Y/N.

“So…Y/N…do you like her?” Eddie inquired and Harry looked to him in shock.

“Like? As in?”

“As in her work.” Eddie said and then he grinned, “Oh, wait-” he paused with a smile and Harry shook his head, “Is that who you’re…?” Eddie trailed off with a grin, “You better not scare her off, mate!” Eddie warned.

“Fucking hell, no. It’s not…we’re seeing each other and I…fucked up today.”

“Didn’t do something nice for her?”

“It’s not that, I was just a dick about things that aren’t even her fault and she disinvited me from the fucking rom-com marathon that I really wanted to go to.” He explained in frustration and Eddie chuckled.

“You and those romcoms…remember when you dragged me to watch Bridget Jones’ Baby with you?” Eddie asked and Harry smiled.

“You liked it, shut up.” He said and Eddie cackled.

“So…do you want to talk about what happened?” Eddie asked and Harry sighed.

“Are you listening as my mate or my boss?”

“Even when I’m your boss, I’m still your mate, H.” Eddie said and Harry smiled upon hearing that.

“Thanks, man.”

“Of course, H. So tell me what happened.” Eddie insisted again and Harry chuckled.

“You’re just looking for some gossip.” Harry pointed out and shook his head.

“I can’t talk shit with anyone back home, they’re all so…”

“Bad at observing?” Harry asked and Eddie nodded.

“It’s all speculation. You’re smart, you know how people think and you’re often right.” Eddie explained and Harry shook his head.

“This is something I don’t want to be right about…” Harry explained with a slight frown on his face before knocking back the rest of his beer and letting out a small burp.

“Oh god…” Eddie mumbled lowly as he realized that this was probably a lot deeper than he initially thought, “And what is it that you don’t want to be right about?” He asked and Harry sighed.

“That I don’t deserve her. She’s too good for me.” Harry admitted quietly as Eddie frowned.

“You’re an ace, H. Why would you say that?”

“I’m just really fucked up sometimes…like I…I love her.” He admitted to Eddie who smiled upon hearing this, “But as you know, I’ve just been in really bad relationships…like everything’s perfect until we sit down and talk about it, then suddenly people change and it goes to shit. And admittedly, they’ve kinda fucked me up…and it's just been hard to bounce back from that. Especially this last one." He explained and Eddie knew all too well. They had even gotten in a fight over him pointing some problematic things out about his ex-girlfriend, but he was worried for his wellbeing and had to say something after seeing so much shit.

"I get defensive and jump to conclusions, I know that. I know I can be a lot. So I haven’t you know, properly asked her to be my girl. And ummm, Vy caught us outside over lunch and called her my girlfriend and Y/N denied being my girlfriend and it took me back to her... and I kind of freaked out on Y/N.” He explained and Eddie nodded as he listened, “I could just see in her eyes…it was the same way I used to look at..." he couldn't even say her name and that made Eddie sad for Harry, "And it suddenly hit me that I don’t want to make it worse.” Harry frowned as he explained.

“You’re not the people who hurt you, H. You’re your own person and you can choose to do better. The fact that you’re even acknowledging it is the proof that you’re afraid of becoming that. Loving can be terrifying, but when it’s with the right person it’s totally worth it.”

“And you think, Y/N is the right person?”

“I mean…look at you now, well maybe not at this very moment, but overall. I love you, man, but you were miserable in London.” Eddie chuckled dryly, “Always immersing yourself in work, barely even saw your friends and family, the only people you would spend time with were random shags up until you got involved with…her.” Eddie reminded, mindful to keep the boundary he had of not wanting to mention his ex by name. “It looks like maybe the slower pace, though stressful at first, helped to ground you again. And training Y/N, it seems has helped you fall back in love with tattooing…and well a little more than that I suppose.” Eddie smiled and Harry felt his cheeks flush all pink and not because he had just chugged his beer.

“Jesus…”

“You were the baby of the shop, H. You’re like my little brother…I say that because I don’t think I’m old enough to be your dad,” Eddie said and Harry shook his head as he laughed, “I loved to see you being that successful, but success is more than that. And what good is it to be successful if you’re not happy? Happiness is success - you told me that once when you were starting out, do you remember?” Eddie asked with a smile and Harry shook his head.

“No, I really don’t recall.” He pondered as he tried to think about it.

“Well, I do. I had never heard anything so wise come out of an 18-year-old’s mouth. That’s when I knew that I had made a great decision in bringing you on as an apprentice.” Eddie said, “I saw you grow in skill and fame and well, I know you went through a lot, but even before that, I didn’t see you being fully happy. That’s why I offered you the opportunity to come out here.” He explained himself, “I want you to be successful by your definition of it, not everyone else’s basic version of it, H.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I struggled at first a lot. Took it out on poor Y/N actually…” he said and Eddie rolled his eyes, “She was so gracious though and so…beautiful, like inside, not just physically. She saw right through my bullshit, knew I was struggling with the move and everything…helped me build my furniture…” he smiled down at the table, “Helped me throw a housewarming party. She helped this feel like home. She made it all better and I don’t know how to make up for that.” He expressed and Eddie shook his head.

“You don’t have to make up for it. Y/N’s a good girl and she did it because she knows you’re a good guy, not because she wanted anything out of it, H. Does she love you too?”

“Yeah.” Harry smiled.

“Does she know about what you’ve been through before?” Eddie asked and Harry shook his head, “Well, maybe it’s time you open up a bit. Help her understand.”

“I don't know…I think she just needed space after earlier. I made a big fuss about it all…” he said and then breathed in harshly, “Asked her to be my girlfriend on the fly. So fucking childish…” Harry grumbled, cringing at the memory, “She didn’t deserve that.”

“No, but you can make it up to her. Tonight if you wanted to? It’s only…9:30.” Eddie said and Harry sighed.

“I want to respect what she asked of me, which was not to show up tonight.” Harry said and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Do you really think she’ll be disappointed if you showed up, groveling for forgiveness?” Eddie asked and Harry chuckled, “No one would turn down a romantic gesture…”

“Well…”

“I mean… no one does it better than the rom-coms…” Eddie said and Harry chuckled and shrugged it was true.

Eddie was now driving Harry to Y/N’s hyping him up about the plan that he had helped fabricate. Harry was shy about it, but he had done plenty of drunk karaoke with Eddie and other friends back in London and even they knew he was quite a singer, so Eddie knew that Y/N would love it. They couldn’t really find roses on valentine’s day, but Eddie felt that Harry’s performance would be more than enough to make Y/N soften up about the argument they had gotten in earlier in the day. They were on their way and Harry was feeling quite nervous about showing up at Julie’s unannounced, he wasn’t sure if Y/N was still angry or upset at him. Just as he was about to spiral into the conflicting feeling about their decision to show up and serenade his phone buzzed in his lap and he glanced down to see a message from Y/N and he quickly unlocked his phone to see her message.

Y/N:

I get why you like the romantic movies now 🥲

Harry smiled as he saw her typing some more.

Y/N:

Julie put on La La Land… have you seen it?

Harry:

Of course I have. I cried for half an hour after. It hurt so good haha

“Make a left right here.” Harry informed Eddie, “It’s gonna be on your left and it’s the one with the rosebushes lining the fence.” Harry said as Eddie looked ahead to spot the identifiers Harry had given. “It’s right up there.” Harry pointed and Eddie started to slow down as Harry looked down to his phone to see Y/N’s response come in.

Y/N:

Yeah, it does. Julie sees my tears as a success. I wish I hadn’t disinvited you, could really use a cuddle from you right about now.

He smiled as he read her response and glanced over to Eddie as he made a u-turn to line Harry’s door up to face the house.

“Should I start the music?”

“She’s texting me, we might not even need it.” Harry smiled.

“That’s lame. Why do you think I insisted on driving?” He asked with a tsk and Harry shook his head as he typed out his message.

*********

Y/N was still sniffling after watching La La Land, Julie had moved on to something funnier, but she just wanted Y/N to cry out the disappointment of the day first. But Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Harry, she knew that she could’ve at least texted him earlier. She didn’t think he would be so upset at the correction she had made about her not being his girlfriend and she truly hadn’t meant it in a bad way, but she hated that she made him feel like she didn’t feel what he felt towards her, or at least she imagined that’s what he was feeling. She had asked for space and he was always respectful of that, so she decided to reach out first to let him know that she wasn’t upset with him. She was relieved when he answered right away, she could just imagine him waiting to hear from her. So she was honest about being regretful of not having had him over.

Y/N:

Yeah, it does. Julie sees my tears as a success. I wish I hadn’t disinvited you, could really use a cuddle from you right about now.

She watched as her message went to read to the little gray dots appearing at the bottom of the screen.

Harry:

Yeah?

Y/N smiled and started to type out her response before sending it off.

Y/N:

Yeah, baby.

Harry:

Well… then maybe you could let me in?

Y/N’s heart started pounding erratically as she sprang up from her spot on the couch and Julie gasped at the surprise of her action.

“Geez, you scared me! Where are you going?” She asked.

“He’s here!” Y/N called back as she hurried off and Julie smiled as Y/N rushed off to the front door and quickly unlocked it and smiled when she saw Harry out by the sidewalk in Eddie’s car? She was confused and suddenly “Oh Darling!” Started playing from the car and Harry was climbing onto the hood of the car and he started singing and her hands flew up over her mouth in shock, “You need to come see this!” Y/N called back and in moments Julie was by the front door, leaning on the doorframe slightly behind Y/N as she smiled and gave Harry a huge thumbs up as he serenaded Y/N.

Harry noticed that a few other people from the neighboring houses were now watching him as he stood over the roof of Eddie’s car and serenaded Y/N but her smile was well worth any embarrassment he felt at his giant gesture. Once he was finished he received several cheers and applauds as Y/N hurried over and he carefully got down from the car as Eddie also came out slowly.

“Oh my god!” Y/N squealed as Harry rushed over to meet her by the fence and he just hugged her so tight and spun her around.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He said quietly against her head before pressing a kiss to her temple and she smiled.

“It’s OK. I’m sorry I was so rash about disinviting you-”

“No baby, you had every right to I was acting insane.” He said as he pulled back to look into her eyes and she sighed, “I can explain.” He said softly and she nodded.

“I’m sure you can, but can I kiss you first?”

“Can I brush my teeth first? Eddie and I devoured a mountain of garlic fries as he convinced me to come and-”

“I can tell and I don’t care.” She giggled and he frowned, “C’mon, just a little one?” She pouted through her request and he rolled his eyes before leaning in and pecking her lips quickly.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.” She smiled, “Eddie, do you want to come in? We just started The Proposal?” Y/N asked as she tip-toed to look over Harry’s shoulder and he chuckled.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course! You were part of this too.” She said and he chuckled. Soon enough they were all heading inside and Y/N was introducing Julie to Eddie and they were getting situated while Harry went off to brush his teeth, “Eddie, can I get you anything to drink?”

“A water is fine, thank you.” He assured she nodded and went off to the kitchen to grab him a glass. As she was getting ready to head out Harry came in and she smiled as he came up to her and she quickly set the glass down before he slid his hands around her waist and kissed her deeply. Y/N easily gave in to the kiss and he then pressed his forehead against hers and sighed.

“I’m really sorry for acting up today. I was dramatic and flipping shit on you and that wasn’t right.”

“I was really harsh too. I just…I would always let people walk all over me before. And I hated feeling that way and I didn’t want to feel that from you.” She explained and he frowned.

“I’m so sorry, baby. And I’m… an asshole before there’s a chance that you’re an asshole to me first and that’s from what I’ve been through as well. I just get defensive, you know?” He explained softly and she nodded in understanding, “I’m sorry I wasted this day by being a little bitch.” He chuckled lowly and she giggled and shook her head.

“You didn’t, no one’s ever sang on a car for me.” She grinned and he went all pink.

“It was Eddie’s idea.” He chuckled.

“Well, it was cool and you’re actually quite good. I’m impressed.” She said and he smiled bashfully, his eyes veering away from hers for a moment before he accepted her compliment.

“Well, thank you.”

“Of course, baby. We can talk more about this later. Do you want to spend the night? Can drive you home for a fresh change of clothes tomorrow.” She offered and he nodded.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Harry accepted with a smile, “I love you. You know that much, don’t you?” He asked and she nodded.

“I do. I love you too.” She whispered before kissing his cheek.

They both headed out towards the living room where Eddie had made himself comfortable on the couch near Julie, leaving Y/N and Harry on the ground, which they didn’t mind as they cuddled up, just how she had wanted to be. Y/N smiled and tried not to laugh as Harry mumbled along with some of the lines from the film, of course he knew them. Their fingers were intertwined and resting on her stomach while his thumb was rubbing over the side of her hand in comforting little swipes as she leaned on his shoulder. They both laughed at a scene in the film talking about some baby-making blanket as Sandra Bullock’s character threw it to the side quickly.

“When the time comes, you better not throw the baby-making blanket off of us.” He whispered to her with a smirk. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel that he was smirking against the side of her forehead and she giggled against him and he smiled. Obviously, he was joking, but his smile widened when she untangled their fingers and instead just offered up her pinky-finger to him, in the form of a silent pinky-promise for a comment he didn’t expect to get more than a laugh for. Y/N’s cheeks heated and she smiled with incredible amounts of endearment as she felt his pinky finger wrap around her own tightly for a few seconds before slipping his fingers between her own again.

Yes, she had been in love, but not like this. This time was different. She knew things wouldn’t be perfect, nothing ever truly was, but she knew that Harry was a grown-ass man who was accountable for himself and that made it easy for her to work through the harder things. She’d been with people who always victimized themselves when making mistakes, but not him. Even if he would react rashly in the moment he would always circle back and take responsibility for his part in it and that was really important to her. She wasn’t too bothered that they hadn’t necessarily defined their relationship, he loved her, that’s what mattered to her, but after today they definitely had to talk about that. When the movie ended they all said their goodnights, Y/N thanked Eddie for bringing Harry around and they assured that they’d see each other the next day and so that’s how they each headed down to their own spaces for the night. It was dark in Y/N’s room and she and Harry were curled up together, he was wrapped around her body this time as her fingers stroked his hair. She was patiently waiting for him to say what he wanted to say and she could imagine that it was hard to talk about the painful things that he had been through with partners, but it was important to talk about to move forward.

“So I’ve only had two serious relationships.” He explained, “Both of them seemed to be cut from the same cloth though. They broke me down horribly, they’d make me feel like I was insane sometimes with how they would twist things, manipulate me, and hurt me…during the second one I realized that she never seemed to get hurt as much as I did so I started to…adopt that kind of facade. And sometimes when I’m feeling uncertain about things I throw it back up as a like a defense.” He explained, “Especially with me ex, I don't know, I just always felt like I was a pawn, just being strung along, never really getting what I needed out of the relationship if it wasn't convenient for her. Like she was in it for the chase and just...changed into this awful person as soon as I had let her in. And well, I love you and you’re wonderful and everything I’ve ever hoped for and I know you’re not that way, but I still can’t help it but be afraid that if we just…”

“Give it a name?”

“Yeah, that it’ll change and not that you will, but that I will change. Into the person I became with my ex. So insecure and needy and…well, much like I was when we first met. I’m learning to overcome it, but it’s taken me a while. It’s painful.” He explained and she frowned as she squeezed him tighter.

“I’m so sorry, H.” She whispered and he sniffled a bit as he nuzzled closer against her.

“It’s alright, it’s in the past.” He whispered, “Eddie told me that he asked me to make this move because I was just this hollowed out version of myself back in London. Like sure, I was making money and garnering a lot of interest as an artist but I wasn’t happy. Apparently when I was a kid I told him that I would know I was successful when I was happy. And he was saying that I was successful by other people’s definitions of it, but not by my own and he knew that he needed to do something about it.”

“And are you now?” She asked and he smiled.

“So fucking happy.” Harry confessed and she smiled upon hearing him say that, “He says he can see it too. How I’m coming back into my old self again. Helping you and training you has made me fall in love with tattooing again and well, it has also helped me fall in love with you and I don’t want to be afraid of what that means.”

“I told you once that I would never hurt you on-purpose. That if I had an issue I would tell you.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I know it’s hard to unlearn all the pain, but I hope you can learn to trust me too. I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect, but I can promise that I will always do right by you.” She said and he felt his eyes welling up, “I’ve been a little scared too with what we have going on, I haven’t pushed it because well…I realize that LA isn’t really your home, you know?” She said and he nodded, “I’m scared of you leaving me here one day to deal with everything that I feel for you.” She confessed, “I love it here. I know I haven’t been anywhere else in the world before, but I genuinely don’t feel the need to. Like I know that this is my home, you know?”

“Yeah.” He whispered.

“And I…don’t know if I would ever follow you out of it.” She said and he nodded in understanding.

“I get you. I felt the exact same way about London. Initially I thought maybe I'd be in LA a year or two to just start fresh, you know? But ummm.. who knows now.”

“I mean, I would also hate to make you feel like you need to stay for me i-if you really want to go back. Like your whole family is there. I don’t want to get in the way of your happiness and I guess that’s why I haven’t been too concerned with really solidifying what we are.” She said and he pushed up to be able to look down at her in the minimal light in the room.

“Baby, did you not hear what I just said?” He chuckled and she sighed, “You are one the reasons why I am so happy again, if not the biggest one. I love being here, I love being here with you, and quite frankly I don’t care about that far ahead, I care about us right here, right now and that I don’t want to waste any precious time with you by continuing to be afraid.” He shook his head, “I love that I finally feel safe enough to be myself again. I love that you make life more joyful. I love that you forgive me. I love that you understand me and love me and I would love to hear you tell people that yes, you are my girlfriend and that I’m your boyfriend, if you still want that.” He declared with so much passion it made a chill travel through her body.

“I would love that, baby.” She agreed and he dipped down to find her lips easily despite the darkness. “Mmmm, I love you.” She mumbled against his lips.

“I love you too.” He smiled into their kiss.

“I’ve also been thinking… I think I would like you to finish my tattoo, if you still want to. You’re great at realism.” She said and he smiled.

“Really?” He asked with a bright smile.

“Yeah. I’ll bring the original drawing I made with me to the shop tomorrow so you can brainstorm.”

“Or… I was able to bring over the rest of my equipment to tattoo at home, we can do it there if you want.” He suggested and she smiled.

“Ooh, that sounds nice…intimate.” She whispered before smooching his chin. Harry had avoided being intimate with anyone for a long time and for the first time he wasn’t afraid of it, “But I want you to treat me like an actual client.” She said and he chuckled.

“What? Why? You just said it was supposed to be intimate.” He mumbled with a pout.

“I want the full experience.”

“You’ve seen me tattoo.”

“I know, but it’s different…to be the one in the chair.” She said and he hummed as his big hand rubbed over her tummy, “In your chair.”

“I see the appeal.” He said and she grinned.

“Roleplay it.”

“Is that what you’re into?” He asked with a smirk and she nibbled on her bottom lip, “Tell me, baby.” He insisted as his hand traveled lower down her torso, reaching the band of her shorts and running his index finger right along her skin there. Her skin was covered in goosebumps as she smiled against his lips. “Baby, tell me.” He insisted and she nodded.

“Yes. Yes, OK?” She sniggered and he grinned.

“I like that, I’ll brainstorm your tattoo and the game we’ll play. Give you a full service.” He mumbled against her lips before his mouth melted against hers in a deep sensual kiss. She turned towards him and snaked her hand down to his brief-clad crotch, he was so hard and ready to go for her. He exhaled loudly against her mouth, his breath quivered as the pleasure rippled through his body.

“Can I get on top?” She asked and he nodded eagerly and shifted so that she could settle herself against his lap and immediately ground herself down against him. Their kissing was heated and urgent. She was so impatient that she didn’t even need to get naked. He was already shirtless, so that made it much easier for her to tug down the elastic band of his briefs to free him up. His erection was heavy and his pre-cum was dripping down into the trail of hair leading down to his pubic area. She wanted to lick it off of him. She wrapped her fist around his erection and slowly started to stroke him up and down, causing his hips to raise up a bit as he exhaled deeply.

“Oh shit…” he whispered as his head fell back as she gently started to squeeze around his tip before stroking a bit faster. His cock was so pretty, she wanted it in her mouth. She swallowed thickly and lifted herself up a bit and moved the crotch part of her shorts to the side and guided his erection along her folds. His hands rounded to her ass to try and push her down and she smiled down at him as she just barely let his tip push inside of her. Harry’s jaw clenched with a quiet groan, “Baby, turn on the light. I want to see.” He mumbled and she nodded. She pulled away from him and leaned over to the bedside lamp. Harry held her to give her some support as she extended her body to get to the switch and when it finally came on she hurried back to her position. Harry’s lip was bitten between his teeth at the slick sounds of his cock rubbing through her folds again. He reached reached down to her shorts and helped her hold them to the side so he could see better.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” She whispered as she slowly lowered herself little by little, opening herself up on his cock.

“S’because you’re so fucking tight, baby.” He responded. She loved when he would make eye contact with her when they had sex, but this was making her so hot for him. His eyes were entranced on where their bodies were just barely connected. There was this fucked out look in his eyes that was making her unbelievably horny for him. She could tell that he was fighting with himself from thrusting up into her and she was glad because she was enjoying teasing him this way. She was growing impatient, her walls were begging for more and the only thing that would give her what she needed was Harry. Her chest was rising and falling hard, her entrance was so incredibly sensitive and it felt so good to feel as he barely pushed in and stretched her open like that though. She was certain she would be able to come like this, she could already feel the pleasure started to pulse through her body in delicious waves, but that didn’t stop her craving the feeling of him so deep inside of her it made her gasp.

“Baby, I’m gonna sit.” She warned breathily and he nodded, urging her to go on. As soon as she was seated fully over him he groaned lowly. Her walls pulsed around him deliciously, it felt like she was sucking him in deeper and deeper inside of her. She hissed at the feeling of him being so deep inside. She couldn’t help it as she started to grind over him as she continued to watch him lusting after her this way, it made her feel powerful. She gasped as he thrust up into her and held her down with his free hand, “Ohmygod…” she slurred quietly and he grinned. She then started to move her hips up and down and his head fell back into her headboard as he groaned. His strong hands came to her hips and helped her keep moving up and down. She was doing this swiveling motion with her hips every time she’d go down and it was driving him insane. His tip was repeatedly nudging into that deliciously soft and hot spot inside of her that was making his toes curl and abs tense deliciously.

“Fuck baby, just like that. Keep going just like that.” He panted, brows creased down as he tried to hold out for longer. His eyes finally met hers and she grinned down at him as she squeezed and he groaned a little too loudly and she giggled.

“Shhhh.” She warned with a smile and he swallowed thickly, “Like that?” She asked and he nodded, “Me too, baby. Gonna come soon, rub my clit.” She said and he quickly moved his thumb over her clit and she moaned quietly.

“A little harder, please.” He requested and she obliged. She sunk down harder and she whimpered softly with each time his cock pounded into her. Her legs were growing tired, but that spark of pleasure was stoking the flames of pleasure that were starting to get bigger and more intense, “Fuck, that’s it, baby. Don’t stop.” He grunted quietly.

“I-i won’t.” She stammered. Her stomach started clenching and her fingernails were digging into the butterfly inked right above his abs. He groaned once more before he started thrusting up into her, matching her pace until her jaw was agape and her eyes were rolling back as she felt him start shooting his load into her. It catalyzed her own orgasm and she fell forward and ground down against him as he kept thrusting into her. They were holding back their sounds as best as they could, breathing hard and deep and grunting softly as the pleasure started to to ripple through their bodies in a delicious way. She smiled as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her body against his as he thrusted a few more times, milking out his last bit of cum into her. He could feel her body shivering against his own and then her lips were smearing sloppily against his own, “So good. So fucking good.” She panted before their started kissing again for a few more minutes and then she leaned up a bit and kissed his forehead before smiling at him and he chuckled.

It’s amazing how you can go from total nympho to softie in a millisecond.” He chuckled as his hand caressed over her butt and she giggled.

“Yeah, s’called range.” She grinned and he chuckled.

“So…girlfriend,” he said and she grinned, “that was a good way to christen the titles.” He said and she giggled.

“Yeah, it was.” She agreed. He was still softening up inside of her, not ready to fully disconnect from he yet.

“Hey, say it.” He reminded and her eyes widened.

“Oh, of course! Yes, boyfriend, we should christen more things.” She smirked and he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah…? Maybe ummm…we christen my tattoo chair.” He said and she giggled, “Part of the role-play, you know? Hot tattoo artist and hot client, he can’t help himself when she gives him those fuck me eyes and makes pretty sounds for him when he’s working a particularly sensitive spot.” He hummed suggestively as he playfully pinched at her bum and she giggled.

“Oh yeah, can’t wait.” She whispered, “Ready for me to get up?” She asked.

“No.” He mumbled and she smiled, “But go ahead.” He said and she was gentle as she moved off of him, tightening up before hurrying across the hall to the bathroom to get cleaned up. She came back with a warm, wet rag to help clean him up as well before he got back into his briefs. Y/N then shut off the lights and got back into the bed beside him and he pulled her back into his arms and she smiled, “It’s only up from here.” He mumbled sleepily and she smiled.

“Mm-hmm, only up.” She whispered, "H?"

"Yes, baby?"

"You make me really happy too." she whispered.

---- Tag List ----

@sunshinemoonsposts @matildasatellite @sad-avocado @sunflovverharry @cherrysulewski @angelbabyyy99 @reveriehs @daphnesutton @gurugirl @jessitpwk @permanentllyharry @here4thefanfics @justlemmeadoreyou

54 notes · View notes