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punkshort · 7 months

Text

All Yours

Summary: Tommy and Maria want to meet a group from another community to establish a trading relationship. One man comes onto you a little too strong, sparking a reaction from Joel.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader, established relationship, set in the TWWW universe but can be read stand alone, no use of Y/N.

Warnings: jealousy/possessive behavior, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected sex, fingering, language, mild violence/blood, vague allusions to SA (nothing graphic)

Word count: 6.8K

March 2006

"So, what exactly do we need to bring with us?" Carrie asked, leaning over your shoulder as you spread out your notes in front of you on the desk.

"Maria said she wanted to have an idea of our production numbers for each season, so we know what we can spare for trades."

A couple months ago on patrol, Tommy and Joel came across a smaller community deep in the mountains. After watching them carefully for a few weeks, and a very lively discussion during a town hall meeting, it was agreed that they would approach the community in an attempt to strike up a trading relationship.

Satisfied that you had all the documentation you needed, you stuffed the notebooks into your pack, along with a few samples of medicinal herbs as a good faith gift.

You both slid on your coats, hats, and gloves as you made your way to the stables, the early spring morning still very brisk. The sun was just beginning to peek over the trees as you approached the small group waiting outside the barn. You scanned the group of five quickly before your eyes settled on Joel, who had been talking to Eugene about something that made him appear tense until he saw you approach, and his face relaxed.

"All set?" Joel asked you, taking your rolled up sleeping bag and attaching it to the back of the saddle, next to his own.

"I think so," you replied while giving Eugene a smile and wave in greeting.

"Shouldn't be too long of a trip, dear. We'll be back tomorrow, late afternoon," Eugene told you as he mounted his horse.

Tommy had chosen a neutral place in between both settlements to discuss trades: an abandoned ski lodge. When you heard of the location, you were grateful you wouldn't have to sleep on the muddy forest floor.

Joel hopped up on the back of the horse and reached his arm down to help you climb up behind him. You wrapped your arms around his stomach and gave him a small squeeze with your arms.

"You didn't have to come, you know," Joel murmured over his shoulder as he followed behind Jake and Carrie's horse, exiting through the gate.

"Yeah, but what would I do while you were gone? Probably just waste away," you joked, making yourself chuckle.

"I'm serious," he said. "Could be dangerous. We don't know these people yet."

"It'll be fine, Joel," you tried to assure him. "I'll just explain my production numbers, Carrie will discuss the medicinal stuff, and we will just hang back while you guys figure out the rest."

Joel huffed and rolled his shoulders.

"Just don't like you outside Jackson too much. Like knowin' that you're safe," he said, directing your horse around a fallen tree.

"I know. But I want to help. Maria is excited. She said this could be really good for the town, and I want to do my part."

He grunted, effectively ending the conversation.

Joel had always felt this intense need to protect you. Since outbreak day, his one and only goal was to keep you safe. There had been a few close calls in your journey before Jackson, ones that affected him deeply and stirred up frequent panic attacks from shouldering the guilt and blame. When you found Jackson, he was finally able to relax, seeing you safe and happy. He still struggled with his own trauma from past events, some days worse than others. And taking you outside the walls of Jackson was steadily careening him towards having one of those bad days.

You reached the ski lodge before the other group, much to Joel's relief. It was the first time you've seen him look pleased all day. The place was enormous. You noticed it appeared to be able to host weddings or conferences in the off-season as you walked by three huge ballrooms and a kitchen before you finally reached the main lounge. Couches, sofa chairs, and tables with chairs were scattered around the two-story room. The walls were mostly windows, allowing visitors to admire the beautiful mountains surrounding the building.

The room was built around a big fireplace in the center, which Tommy and Jake immediately began to inspect.

"Maybe we should get some wood. We're early, we got time to kill," Tommy mused aloud. Joel's head swiveled around the two-story lounge while he gripped his rifle, looking up at the balconies above to make sure you were truly alone.

Tommy slid his backpack off and rummaged around until he found a hatchet in its leather carrying case.

"C'mon, Joel. Before we lose daylight," Tommy said, giving Joel pause. His eyes flicked over to you sitting at a table talking to Carrie while you unloaded the food, no doubt planning what to make for the group for dinner.

"Can you take Eugene?" Joel asked him quietly, so the rest of the group wouldn't overhear. Tommy raised an eyebrow at his brother before answering.

"Joel. I'm not gonna ask an old man to trek into the forest and help me haul wood up all those steps."

"Jake, then," Joel tried, his eyes traveling back to you. Tommy sighed and put a hand on Joel's shoulder.

"It'll be 30 minutes, at most," Tommy assured him. "She's a big girl, she'll be alright. Y'know she can defend herself, probably better than most."

"Yeah, but what if the other group comes when we're gone?" Joel asked, furrowing his brow and shifting his weight.

"We've met them before, Joel. You've met them before. What's the problem?" Tommy asked, growing impatient. Joel sighed and reluctantly slung his rifle over his shoulder.

"Alright, let's be quick," Joel huffed.

Joel made his way over to you as Tommy let the group know his plan to collect some firewood. Joel gave you a quick kiss and squeezed your bicep gently.

"I'll be right back, sweetheart," he murmured.

"Be careful," you told him with a small smile. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing anxiously, unsure how to vocalize his concerns.

"Joel! Let's get a move on," Tommy called out as he made his way back down the hallway that led to the entrance.

"Sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be back," you told him, giving his chest a small shove. He nodded and turned on his heel to follow Tommy down the hall.

You and Carrie were opening some canned goods and rifling through the kitchen when you heard the front doors of the lodge swing open. At first, you thought Joel and Tommy had managed to cut up firewood in less than fifteen minutes, but then you heard strange voices, and you knew it must have been the new community arriving. You dusted your palms on the sides of your jeans and glanced at Carrie.

"Guess we should join the others," you told her, trying to keep your voice steady. You didn't want to worry Joel, but the prospect of meeting new people in a strange place did make you a little nervous. You didn't have the best track record with people since the outbreak.

As the two of you made your way back into the lounge, you subconsciously rested your hand on the butt of your handgun. You entered the room just as the group was entering from the other end. You examined them carefully as you made your way over to Maria. They had brought five men with them. Two of which were older and had grey beards, one was bald while the other had messy curls. The other three were younger. One seemed particularly young, younger than you. He was skinny and his eyes darted around nervously. You got the impression he was asked to join as an extra body and a last resort.

The last two men were likely in their thirties and seemed to be the muscle of the group. One of the men had darker hair that was shaved close to his head and a rigid jaw. You vaguely wondered if he had past military or police training.

Your eyes finally landed on the last man, only to discover he had already clocked you from across the room. He had dirty blonde, slicked back hair with piercing blue eyes and was surprisingly clean shaven. You noticed most of the men in Jackson didn't bother to shave their beards unless it was particularly hot out, so it struck you as strange. Maybe you had been staring because when you met in the middle of the room, the blonde man's eyes never left your face.

"Neil, Dean, great to see you again," Maria greeted the two older men with a handshake. You could tell immediately they were kind by the way they smiled and spoke, which helped ease your nerves a bit. However, the blonde man had yet to stop staring at you, and it was becoming unnerving. You felt Carrie shift next to you and you wondered if she noticed it, too.

Maria introduced you and Carrie to Neil and Dean, since Jake and Eugene were already acquainted with them. When you shook their hands and looked into their eyes, your nerves settled a little more.

"And I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met," Maria said to the other three with a smile.

"Oh, where are my manners," Neil, the balding one, said. "This is Lucas, Sam, and Carter." Neil pointed to each of them respectively. Sam was the young, skinny boy, Lucas was the military type, and Carter the blonde.

You looked each of them in the eye and gave them a tight smile. Carter gave you a sly smirk and you instantly looked away, focusing your attention on Maria. She invited the group to sit at a larger table in the lounge, and you all traipsed over to find a seat. You didn't think it was a coincidence that Carter sat directly across from you, and when you exchanged quick looks with Carrie, you could tell she noticed, too.

"So," Maria said, folding her hands on top of the table. "Tommy and Joel are just out getting firewood, but they should be back soon. We can get started, I don't want to keep you unnecessarily."

"Sure thing," Dean said, reaching into his bag to pull out some notebooks.

"Why don't we start with the girls? They can go over our medicine and vegetable harvest numbers, and then Eugene can discuss livestock," Maria said, looking at you expectantly. You took a breath and reached across the table to grab your worn notebook.

You began by showing the men your production numbers from the past year for vegetables, all of them nodding along and taking notes except for Carter, who was blatantly trying to get a look down your shirt when you leaned over. You had enough and shot him a frown in the hopes of embarrassing him, but a wide grin just spread across this face instead.

You were wrapping up and about to pass your notebook along to Carrie to review the medicinal herbs when Carter finally spoke for the first time.

"That's all?" he said, the deepness of his voice surprising you. You looked at him and blinked.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your fingers still pressed onto the open pages of your notebook.

"Vegetables and fruit? I'm sure you got something else you can trade, sugar," he said, his eyes quickly scanning your body up and down.

You paused for a moment, wondering if you were just paranoid or if he was really suggesting what you thought he was suggesting. Your gaze flicked back to Maria, who seemed to pick up on the same thought you had, and she stiffened in her chair.

"Carter," Neil said lowly, his tone a warning. Your left hand remained on the notebook, but your right hand fell to your side, fingers tapping the butt of your gun.

After a heavy silence that seemed to last an eternity, Carter's face split into a toothy smile as he laughed heartily.

"Come on now, I'm just kidding. Relax, girly," he said to you, but you did anything but relax. In an attempt to not ruin the potential trading relationship with this community, you pushed the notebook to Carrie and leaned back in your chair, choosing to let his comments go.

Carrie nervously and quickly went through the numbers on the herbs while you kept your eyes trained on her, ignoring the heat of Carter's gaze.

Carrie was just finishing up when you heard the front doors swing open once again, and relief flooded through you when you heard Tommy and Joel walking up the hallway.

They entered the room with armfuls of wood, which they deposited next to the fireplace in order to shake hands with Dean and Neil. They were then introduced to the rest of the group with firm nods of their heads before pulling up chairs of their own. Maria was catching Tommy up on what he missed when Joel sat down next to you. You turned in your chair and put your hand on top of his with a squeeze. He gave you a quick smile and leaned forward to listen to Maria, oblivious to the way Carter was studying you two. Carrie met your gaze, and her eyes widened a fraction, trying to silently convey the thought you were also having: what the fuck?

Before Eugene could begin talking about the livestock numbers, you stood up and tugged on Carrie's arm in the process, also making her stand.

"We're gonna go back to the kitchen, get some food ready," you announced, and Maria nodded, her eyes briefly looking at Joel before falling back on you. Joel was looking up and watching you curiously. You gave him a tight smile before hurrying back to the kitchen with Carrie. It was then that he finally noticed Carter's gaze, which was firmly fixed on your retreating form, not even trying to hide the way he stared at your ass as you left the room. Joel cleared his throat roughly, drawing Carter's attention off you and onto him. He gave Joel a light huff and turned his attention back to Maria.

"That was fucking awkward," Carrie said with a disbelieving laugh once you were safe inside the kitchen.

"Okay, so it wasn't just me?" you asked, your hands on your hips. She shook her head.

"Oh, hell no. Even Jake noticed it. Joel's gonna fucking kill him if he pulls that shit again," Carrie said, and you groaned, getting back to prepping various dishes for dinner.

Dinner went smoother. Carter mostly kept his eyes to himself, the tension from the room had dissipated, and the group had begun laughing and trading stories. It appeared while you and Carrie were making dinner that a trading agreement had taken place. Tommy had brought a bottle of whiskey along and was passing it around to celebrate while you and Carrie helped clean up. You were picking up a stack of plates at the end of the table when you heard a voice behind you.

"How 'bout dessert, sugar?" Carter whispered in your ear, making you nearly drop the stack of plates in your hands. You whipped around but he had already taken a few quick steps back, creating a healthy distance from you so as not to draw the attention of others.

"Excuse me?" you said, your heart hammering in your chest. He held up his hands in mock surrender with a smirk.

You so badly wanted to tell him off, stand your ground and make it known you weren't just brought along to feed people and clean up after them, that you were doing it to help your friends, your community. But you recalled how excited Maria was about this relationship, and looking at her now, you could see she was relieved that she could provide more goods to the town with this new prospect. So, you gave Carter the benefit of the doubt.

"There might be canned fruit or something," you muttered, trying to find Carrie so you could walk back to the kitchen together, but Carter reached out and snatched your elbow, this time drawing a scowl to your face.

"I was thinkin' 'bout somethin' else," he said, and you could now tell he had been drinking by the slur in his words and the heaviness in his eyes. You swallowed roughly and glanced around the room, scanning for Joel. He was talking with Dean and Tommy near the fire, his back to you.

"Don't gotta be nervous. It's a compliment," Carter told you, picking up on your anxious body language.

"I'm with him," you said curtly, nodding your chin in Joel's direction. "Even if I wasn't, I'm not interested."

His eyes slowly dragged across the room and landed on Joel before swinging his head back to you, giving you a shrug.

"Huh," was all he said in response, still looking at you hungrily. Over Carter's shoulder, you saw Joel shift, his eyes instantly landing on you. In your periphery, you saw his body tense and he began to make his way across the room. Your eyes flicked to his and he stopped in his tracks, waiting for you to direct him. You gave him a subtle but firm shake of your head. His jaw clenched but he stayed where he was, his eyes jumping from you to Carter.

You turned and marched towards the kitchen, your pulse racing so fast you felt lightheaded.

You all settled in for the night, rolling out sleeping bags and claiming couches. The new group ended up having too much to drink and decided to leave in the morning. You were fixing up your sleeping bag next to Joel's while he stared at Carter flopping down on a couch from across the vast room. You weren't thrilled with the idea of having to stay the night in the same place, but you were comforted by the fact that you were next to Joel and your friends.

"I don't like the way he looks at you," Joel said bluntly as you unzipped your sleeping bag.

"I don't either," you told him, and his eyes finally dragged from Carter to look at you, the surprise evident on his face. He had fully expected you to insist he was overreacting, but the fact you agreed with him put him on edge even more.

"Let's just get through the night and get back home," you said, tucking yourself into your sleeping bag.

"You ain't leavin' my sight til then," he said gruffly, then followed your lead, zipping his bag up partially so he could still press his upper body against yours while you slept.

And although you agreed, not wanting to leave his sight, you found your bladder was too full shortly after everyone had fallen asleep. You looked over your shoulder at Joel. He was sound asleep and snoring softly against the back of your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist loosely. You thought about waking him up but decided against it. He looked so peaceful, and you knew you would be quick.

Before standing up, you glanced around the room. The rest of the group seemed fast asleep, and the bathrooms were only a few feet away from where you slept. You sighed and slowly unraveled yourself from Joel's grasp. He grunted and readjusted, moving to sleep on his back, but remained out cold.

The ladies restroom had three stalls and two sinks. You went as fast as you could, eager to get back to the warmth of the lounge and Joel's embrace. It was dark, but it was a full moon, so you didn't bother to bring a flashlight with you.

You swung the bathroom door open to exit into the short hallway when you smacked into a wall of muscle, causing you to stumble backwards in alarm.

"Wha-" you began to say, but a strong hand clamped over your mouth, stifling your words and pushing you backwards into the room, your back slamming hard against the wall.

You couldn't see who it was, but you knew it wasn't Joel based on touch and scent alone. And when you heard his voice, it just confirmed your suspicions.

"Finally gotcha alone, sweetness," Carter muttered into your ear, pinning you against the wall. You struggled against him, but he was too strong, and you were having a hard time seeing in the dark. Your heart was pounding in your chest, blood rushing in your ears as the panic set in. Not again, please, not again.

He brought his face in front of yours and you could smell his sour breath, stale whiskey invading your nostrils as you mumbled against his palm.

"Really happy we met today," he said quietly. "Your town's got some real pretty women. Maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement. I can get you things, for a price..." he trailed off as his other hand skirted down your side. You squeezed your eyes shut and brought your knee up as hard as you could, praying in the dark that you could hit your target. A loud groan that bubbled up from his throat let you know you were successful. His hand slipped from your mouth slightly as he doubled over, clutching his crotch with the hand that was just on your body moments ago.

"Joel-!" you began to shout, but his hand quickly covered your mouth again, this time with more pressure, bringing tears to your eyes.

"Shut the fuck up," he muttered angrily, bringing his other hand up to your neck. "Quit bein' such a tease, you been starin' at me all night."

You shook your head as much as you could with your mouth still held prisoner by his palm. You brought your hands up to claw at his hand pressing on your throat, your vision going spotty.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone, allowing air to flow freely again. You gasped and coughed, leaning forward as your fingers gently touched the sore skin on your neck. You quickly stood back up, swinging your head around in the darkness, trying to see where he went.

"Get your fuckin' hands off her," you heard Joel growl, along with the unmistakable sound of knuckles thudding wetly against soft, damaged flesh. You could hear their boots squeaking on the tile as the scuffle continued and you blinked rapidly, trying to make your eyes adjust so you could reach the door and go get help.

The fight must have been louder than you realized because the bathroom door swung open, flooding the room in light from Maria's lantern, with Neil, Dean and Tommy right behind her. You pressed yourself flat against the wall as you tried to not get caught in the fight between the two men, who you could now see were swinging on each other wildly, spinning around the small room, slamming each other into the stalls, and grabbing at each other's shirts, trying to get the upper hand and pull the other down. Joel's fist came in contact with Carter's nose so loudly, you heard the crack of bone and winced. Carter stumbled backwards with a pained cry, crashing into you and causing you to fall to the floor.

You felt a burning in your wrist when you landed as you frantically scrambled between him and the floor, desperately trying to get out of the way. Joel saw his opportunity when Carter fell, clutching his nose. He snatched him up and off you by his collar and hauled him across the room with a grunt. Joel grabbed Carter by the hair and yanked him back, so his face was angled up to the ceiling. Carter looked at Joel manically, desperately squirming on his knees and clawing at Joel's wrists to try to loosen his grip when he realized Joel was about to slam his face into the porcelain sink.

Tommy pushed his way into the room and broke up the two men before Joel had a chance to crush his skull. Carter sat crumpled on the floor, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. He attempted to stand but slipped on his own blood, making him fall back to the floor.

"Alright, Joel, enough," Tommy muttered, his hands pressed firmly on Joel's shoulders, pushing him back against the wall. Joel panted for breath through clenched teeth, his eyes wild as his gaze jumped from Carter to Tommy. As if he suddenly came to his senses and remembered you were still in the room, he pushed Tommy off him and made a beeline towards you, hunched over in the corner of the room.

"You alright, sweetheart? Lemme look at you, c'mon," he said gently as he crouched down, hooking a finger under your chin and pulling it up. You let out a shaky breath as your eyes roamed his face. He had a few cuts under his eye and a bruise forming on his jaw, but apart from his knuckles, he appeared unscathed. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the fear in your eyes, then his gaze dropped to your throat where dark, circular bruises were forming from where Carter pressed his fingertips into your delicate skin. You could see the shift behind his eyes turn from concern to rage, and you reached out to grip his arm tightly before he could start another fight.

"Stay," you whispered, your lip trembling. He sighed and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. You inhaled his scent, a mix of sweat, blood and tree sap, and you felt your pulse slow down a fraction.

"Get him the fuck outta here," Joel growled over his shoulder. At some point, Lucas must have joined the crowd because he entered the room to help Carter up from the floor, allowing him to lean on his shoulder as he ushered him out of the room and down the hall.

"I'll go get Carrie, she can look you both over, patch you up," Maria said, but you stopped her.

"Can I just have a minute?" you whimpered softly, your voice not quite right. Maria nodded and waved Tommy out of the room, closing the door behind them, leaving you and Joel in the quiet, moonlit bathroom.

He leaned back to look at you again, his thumb tracing gently over your cheek. You didn't realize you were crying silent tears until he leaned forward to kiss them away, then let his forehead rest against your own.

"What happened?" he finally asked, his eyes closed with his forehead still pressed against you.

"I had to pee, he cornered me in here, it was dark," you squeaked out. Your head was pounding, and you felt exhausted but there was no way you would be able to fall asleep now.

"Did he touch you?" Joel asked nervously, afraid of the answer. You shook your head quickly, and a sigh of relief slipped past his lips.

"Not like that. Just my throat and he covered my mouth," you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to get closer. He leaned back against the tile wall and pulled you onto his lap, your face pressed against the side of his neck.

"Shoulda woke me up," he murmured into your hair.

"I know, I'm sorry," you whispered, letting your hands fall from behind his neck to rest gently on his chest.

"Don't be sorry," he replied, his body tense. "Shouldn't have to be this way in the first place."

You pulled your head back and cupped his cheek with your good hand, gently stroking the bruise forming on his jaw. Overcome with a swell of affection, you leaned in and pressed your mouth against his, tugging his lower lip between yours. He moaned softly and opened his mouth, his tongue dipping past your lips until it found its mate, licking into your mouth until he pulled a small whine from your throat.

He broke the kiss and leaned his head back against the wall, his fingers carefully wiping away the last of your tears.

"Thank you," you whispered, and he shook his head.

"Don't gotta thank me," he replied, then sighed as he pushed himself into a standing position. He reached an arm down to help you up off the floor, and that's when you remembered your wrist. You whimpered and yanked it out of his grasp, standing up on your own and rolling your wrist around to test it for damage.

Joel tenderly took your hand in his and turned it around, inspecting it for swelling.

"It's too dark in here, let's go find Carrie, she can take a look at it," he told you, leading you out of the bathroom and back into the lounge.

Carrie sat you both down on a loveseat with her med kit. She tested your wrist and determined it was just a sprain, so she wrapped it up tightly for you before moving to Joel. She was sanitizing the cuts on his knuckles as you both watched Tommy and Maria having a quiet conversation with Dean and Neil across the room. You were trying to tell by their body language what was being said, but it was impossible. Finally, the group broke up and headed back to their respective people.

Joel stood up defensively when Tommy and Maria approached, giving Carrie a quick 'thanks' under his breath. She sat down next to you, eyes wide as she rubbed your back, asking gently if you were okay and if you needed anything. You shook your head and gave her a small smile, then turned so you could listen to what Maria had to say.

"Relax, Joel, it's alright," Maria said, putting a hand out to him. "You don't need to explain. Dean said there's been an incident or two like this back in their town. It was all 'he said, she said', so they couldn't do anything about it."

"So they brought that fucker here?" Joel seethed, clenching his fist.

"They're gonna take care of it when they get back," Tommy assured him. "Won't be a problem in the future. Trades are still on. Kept him around 'cause he's a good shot."

"Christ," Joel mumbled, rubbing his hand over his beard and turning away. Maria kneeled down in front of you and took your hand in hers.

"You okay?" she asked softly, and you nodded. She examined your face closely until she was satisfied that you were being honest, and stood back up.

"They're leaving, obviously," Maria said, gesturing behind her to the group packing up. Carter laid on a couch with his arm draped over his face, clearly in pain.

"Why don't we try to get some sleep so we can get the hell outta here early?" Eugene said from a sofa chair next to you. You all mumbled in agreement, but waited until the other group left, Neil and Dean giving Tommy and Maria a quick handshake before venturing out into the darkness.

Tommy threw a couple more logs on the fire before he settled back into his sleeping bag next to Maria. Silence descended upon the room, but you still struggled to fall back asleep. Adrenaline was still coursing through your veins from the encounter as you tossed and turned in your sleeping bag.

"What's wrong? You hurtin'?" Joel murmured next to you, clearly on the verge of sleep. You sighed and shook your head, even though his eyes were closed.

"No," you whispered, letting out a quiet groan as you repositioned yourself yet again. Joel's eyes popped open at the sound and turned his head to look at you curiously.

"Can't sleep, too wound up," you whispered again. Joel chuckled and you scowled at him.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothin', just thought of somethin', made me laugh," he said, his eyes sliding back closed but the smile still on his face. You poked him in the ribs, and he jumped, eyes snapping back open.

"Tell me," you said, and he sighed.

"I was gonna make a joke, tell you 'I know what'll tire you out', but it seemed like the wrong time," he explained, closing his eyes once again and turning his head back.

You considered it for a moment before responding.

"Okay."

His breathing stopped and his eyes snapped open. He turned his face to the side again, raising his eyebrows at you.

"What?" he asked quietly. You shrugged and smirked.

"I said, 'okay'," you replied just as quietly. His eyes darkened as they flicked down to your lips, then back up again.

"Kitchen," was all he said, his tone deep and voice strained. You slithered out of your sleeping bag and jumped to your feet, trying your best to be quiet and not sprint into the kitchen. You pushed the door open and entered the nearly pitch-black room, noting the only window was a small circle at the top of the door, allowing an orange light from the fire to be the only light in the room. You chewed your nail nervously as you waited for him to join you, pacing around in a small circle, trying to relieve the ache that was growing between your legs.

The door swung open, and you whipped around right as Joel wrapped his arms around you, his mouth latching onto your neck. His beard tickled your skin as he made a trail of kisses all across your throat. It wasn't until he made it to the other side that you realized he had been kissing the bruises left there. You let out a soft moan and tipped your head back, your fingers digging into his arms.

"If we do this, gotta be fast and quiet," he whispered against your mouth before his tongue dove past your lips to tangle with your own.

"Mhmm," you hummed as you reached down to unbutton your jeans. He walked you backwards until you felt the cold stainless steel of the counter behind you. You hopped up to sit on top and bent your head so you could suck on his Adam's apple before you made your way down to his collarbone, which was just peeking out from the top of his shirt.

Joel pulled your jeans the rest of the way off and slid his hands up both your legs before stopping on your hips, squeezing before giving them a quick tug forward. You almost yelped but you covered your mouth at the last minute. Joel gave you a look of warning before he lined you up with the edge of the counter, his fingers sliding underneath the edge of your panties and yanking them off.

He ran his knuckle up and down your slit before his eyes shot up to lock on yours.

"Shit," he whispered, leaning forward to whisper filth into your ear while he inserted a thick finger inside you, followed closely by a second.

"What a good girl, all ready for me," he told you quietly. "How long you been like this, hm?"

"Since you broke his nose," you whispered heavily, spreading your legs wider for him. He paused a moment, clearly not expecting that answer. You squirmed a bit when his fingers stayed still for too long, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah? That turn you on?" he asked you, and you felt his breath quicken against your neck.

"Yeah," you said quietly, sighing when his fingers expertly found that spot inside you.

"Fuck. Dirty girl," he muttered, earning a gasp from you when he quickly removed his fingers in favor of undoing his belt and shoving his jeans down his thighs. "You liked when I beat that fucker for putting his hands on what's mine?"

You didn't have a chance to answer him because he quickly slid his cock inside you, making you gasp again and slap a hand over your mouth, but you nodded enthusiastically, squeezing your eyes shut.

"So warm," Joel muttered to himself, tipping his head back as he rolled his hips into you slowly, your legs squeezing around his waist. His hands hooked under your knees at his side, his head rolling forward lazily as he watched his cock disappearing inside of you, each time emerging slicker than before.

You began rocking your hips up to meet his in a desperate attempt to increase the pace. He noticed, and given the location and lack of time, chose to give you what you wanted. He snapped his hips harder, grunting quietly each time he bottomed out inside you. You bit down on the fleshy part of your hand, trying to stifle your whines as he pushed you higher and higher towards your orgasm.

He slid his hand from your knee and down your thigh to rest flat on your lower stomach, his thumb brushing against your clit and pulling an audible moan from your mouth. Joel stopped his movements to give you a stern look. He leaned down so his chest was nearly flush with yours, his mouth hovering over your ear.

"Gotta stay quiet, sweetheart. You know I love those sounds but we gotta be careful," he whispered. "Can you do that for me?" You nodded and covered your mouth with your palm again.

He hummed his approval and began rocking his hips into you, his thumb finding your clit and pressing small, firm circles. Your eyes rolled as the pressure built in your lower abdomen. Joel leaned back up so he was standing once again, watching your body jostle up and down underneath him as he fucked into you harder. He felt your walls clench around him and watched as your head tipped back against the stainless steel, your hand still firmly planted over your mouth.

"Tell me you're mine," he said lowly. Your head tilted back down so you could meet his gaze. You removed your hand from your mouth, little gasps escaping from your mouth with each thrust.

"I'm yours, Joel," you said as quietly as you could.

"Again," he said, teeth clenched. Heat creeped up his neck as his orgasm steadily approached, but he held it back until he could hear you respond.

"Y-yours. I'm yours, Joel. Fuck. No one else, only you. Only ever y-you. Shit, I'm close," you whined, clamping your hand over your mouth again to muffle your orgasm.

And then it hit you like a freight train. Your eyes squeezed shut and your body tensed, your cunt fluttered around his cock as the waves washed over you, soft whimpers and moans getting lost in your palm.

"That's my girl," Joel mumbled, pounding into you harder now, desperate to join you. "All mine, huh? This mine?" he asked you, grabbing a handful of your ass and giving it a shake. You nodded and whispered a yes, your hand falling to your side.

"That's right. How 'bout this sweet little pussy? This mine, too?"

"Yes," you whined a little louder than you intended. You opened your eyes and watched him as his gaze traveled up your body, locking eyes with you. You saw a bead of sweat trickle down from his temple as his hips stuttered against you. His hand that was once placed over your stomach slowly traveled up your body, resting over your sternum, right over your pounding heart.

"And this?" he asked, softer now, eyes wide and pleading. You nodded and covered his hand with yours.

"Yes, Joel. All yours." You told him firmly, and with that, he pulled his hips back, groaning quietly as he came all over your stomach, his hot spend dripping down your sides and leaving small, pearly white dots on the countertop.

His eyes lingered on your stomach a moment before he reached down to pull his pants back up. He cleaned you up with a rag he had grabbed before following you into the kitchen, and helped you sit up, being mindful of your sore wrist.

You slid down from the counter and felt around with your foot until you found your discarded clothes. After dressing yourself, you turned around to pull Joel down into a messy, lazy kiss. He leaned back to look at you in the semi-darkness, his hands resting on your waist.

"I'm yours, too, y'know," he said softly. You smiled up at him and ran a finger gently over the bruise blooming on his cheek.

"I know," you whispered, planting a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.

He pushed the door open a crack to make sure no one was awake before opening it all the way and leading you back to your sleeping bags.

"That did the trick, thank you," you murmured to him, yawning as your eyes closed, burying your face in your sleeping bag. His arms wrapped around you from behind and he kissed the back of your neck.

"Anytime, sweetheart," he said, his voice muffled by your hair as he held you tightly against his chest.

Tag List: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby @partyofone3413 @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina

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eddiemunsons-missingnipple · 1 year

Text

It's not so bad? | EM

Pairing: Eddie munson x reader

Summary: You and Eddie have your first very big fight.

Warnings: angst, mention of sex but nothing happens. Slight hurt/comfort towards the end. Mean!Eddie, Eddie calls the reader a bitch and it's alluded that he says worse things, but it's not described. Toxic relationship.

Word count: 1.1k

A/n: probably a little shorter than I wanted. I haven't written anything in over a month, so I'm trying to get back into it again. Divider made by me.

Not proofread 18+ no minors

The trailer was quiet now except for the low hum of Eddie's a/c in the window. You were curled up on his side with your head on his chest. He was fast asleep now, but you couldn't.

Not after what transpired just a few hours ago. Your eyes still burned, and your heart still ached a little. You both said your sorrys, but there was something still lingering inside of you. Even though he was the main one apologizing since you truly did nothing wrong.

The way he screamed at you and got in your face. You never said a word back. You just let him unleash what he had pent up inside him. You tried to walk away, but he just followed you. Spewing hurtful things again and again.

You kept telling yourself it was the alcohol mixed with anger that made him this way. Even though in the back of your mind, it felt like he had been waiting for this opportunity to tell you how he really felt.

The moment his voice kept raising octave after octave and his face flushed red with anger. You knew there was no point in fighting back, so you just took it. Hoping he'd give up and leave you alone. You guys have fought before, but it was nothing like this. You've never been scared of him.

Until he backed you up into a corner and just laid into you. You shrunk down desperately, trying to make yourself as small as possible. The smell of various types of alcohol on his breath filled your nose.

He called you all sorts of names "bitch", "dumb" and various other hurtful insults. He grabbed you roughly by the arm to stop you from leaving and so you were forced to listen to him berate you. Any moment now, you were waiting for the cops to show up. You were sure the neighbors could hear him and would call them.

You didn't know accepting a free drink from a guy at the bar Eddie was performing in would set him off. Apparently, the guy is a long-time rival of his. Someone Eddie seriously hates, and Eddie doesn't usually hate anyone. He dislikes people, yes, but he doesn't hate them.

You noticed something was up when we marched over to you and downed the drink himself. You didn't get a chance to take a small sip of it. He barely even looked your way when he did it. Then the next thing you remember is being pulled to the van, and that's when the shouting started. Each word that came from his mouth was laced with so much venom.

"You're really fucking dumb you know that."

"You're such a bitch I don't even know why I give you the time of day."

"You're lucky someone like me even looked twice at someone like you."

Those lines still rang in your head even now as you're curled up next to him. He did eventually calm down. You guessed once the last bit of alcohol wore off, and he sobered up. Maybe when his voice became horse and he couldn't scream anymore is when he decided to stop.

The moment he was done, his face immediately softened. He wasn't mad anymore, but you were still upset. You still wondered if his voice didn't give out, would he still be yelling at you right now. He tried to pull you to him at first but you resisted.

He shushed you as he rubbed your back, and you eventually caved and melted into his arms. You cried in his chest as he hugged you to him tighter. When you noticed, his body was lightly shaking. You pulled back to see tears streaming down his face.

His voice croaked. "I'm so sorry, baby."

"You know I didn't mean any of that stuff," i said, right?" His voice is soft, and his touch is gentle.

You gave a weak smile "yeah I know you didn't it's okay."

You both stood there in the hallway by his room in eachothers arms for what felt like hours. Neither one of you said a word too tired to even talk it out yet.

You just wanted to sleep, and you wanted to be okay. He always made everything okay, and now it's feels different. You feel embarrassed, and you feel as though something is still lingering in the air.

Like there is more to say, but you're too afraid to ask. Eventually, you both somehow make it to bed. Your mind is groggy, and your anxiety is still high. You can't even remember getting undressed and into bed with him.

You tossed and turned all night long while Eddie was fast asleep. His arm draped around you, keeping you locked in close to him. You remember him wanting to have sex but you rejected him opting to just cuddle instead.

Eddie was fine with that. He seemed a little hurt, but he's never pressured you to do something you didn't want to. You felt guilty for rejecting him. There was just something there that stopped you. This lingering presence that you can't even describe.

You were hoping it would be gone by morning, but you're still sensing it. Maybe it was the lack of communication you were so used to having with him. Maybe it was the mean things he said that somehow confirmed your insecurities. Eddie told you he didn't mean them, but you just couldn't shake that,"What if?"

Now you're just laying here on his chest, counting his heartbeats. The feeling of sadness still consuming you. You want him to wake up and have everything back to normal again. You also don't want him to wake up because you're too embarrassed to face him.

Eddie stirs a bit in his sleep, but he doesn't move away from you. Instead, he manages to pull you closer to him. You can feel him squeeze your hip and give it a light little tap. His eyes slowly open as you pretend to still be sleeping.

You heard him groan a bit and cough, probably from the pain in his throat now. He stretches out, and you can hear the little pops his toes make when he cracks them.

You notice tell he's trying his best not to disturb your sleep. Each movement he makes is thought out and careful as he does it. He's trying his best not to startle you awake. He feels bad about how he treated you earlier tonight, but he's not as remorseful as you think. He loves you so much and didn't ever want to hurt you like this. But he couldn't control his temper with you any longer. The alcohol in his system didn't help either.

Does he regret how he went about it? Yes. Did he feel like this fight was a long time coming? He sure did. Next time, he might try to go about it differently if he ever caught you doing something like that again. He knows he can't control his emotions well, and sadly, this time, you were on the receiving end of his anger.

"I love you so much." Eddie spoke in a very raspy horse whipser. He kissed your temple and very slowly got out of bed. He didn't want to wake you at all.

That little moment is enough reassurance you needed. He does still love you. He didn't mean what he said to you last night. You hear the shower turn on and his muffled voice humming through the thin walls. Slowly but surely, everything felt normal again. Even if you haven't spoken yet.

That uneasy feeling you had before was gone immediately. Well, that's what you're trying to convince yourself anyway. His cracked voice singing from the bathroom as he showers calms your mind. Eventually, sleep finally takes over you, and you know everything is going to be okay.

But maybe not.

The shower turning off grabs your attention. You could hear him slowly creeping back into the bedroom, trying not to wake you up. You're in and out one minute you're calm the next you're not. You think you're fine but are you really? Eddie got right back into bed and pulled you in close again. His arm holding you tight against his chest.

He leans forward, pressing yet another kiss to your temple before whispering, "Stop being sad, sweetheart. You love me, and I love you more."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #my writing

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redclercs · 9 months

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

xiv. this feels like the calm before the storm.

— the one where the world is caving in.

warnings: cheesy pop culture references, aidan and victoria are back, more articles than usual. mentions of panic attacks, anxiety tics, spelling mistakes in the tweets that i am too lazy to correct, forgive me. 2.3k words (+articles!)

masterlist ✢ next

'Did Timothée Chalamet get y/n y/ln a role in 'Little Women'?'

By Bridget Thomas

As previously reported by various outlets, actress y/n y/ln has been cast as the youngest March sister for yet another remake of "Little Women", expected to be premiered by the end of next year. However, we can't help but wonder, how did y/n manage to get a role alongside actors of such high caliber, such as Meryl Streep and Best Actress Nominee Saoirse Ronan?

Despite the success of movies such as Supercut and The Hating Game, y/n's acting skills cannot even begin to compare to those of her co-stars, she's a romcom actress, and she's supposed to stay that way. But as Ringo Starr once sung: "I get by with a little help from my friends" and y/n is no exception.

Timothée Chalamet, Greta Gerwig's other main muse, has Hollywood eating out of the palm of his hand, and his influence goes a long way. So much so, that he was able to secure Amy's role for new friend (possibly new something else) y/n y/ln.

Right after they were seen mingling at a party in Paris with y/n's boyfriend (probably soon to be ex) Charles Leclerc, y/n got the call that they decided to give her the role.

Don't we all want a boyfriend who uses nepotism to our benefit?

Seriously, though, how does y/n manage to get this heartthrobs to spare a glance her way and do this stuff in her name? Somebody call the Winchester Brothers, we might have a witchcraft case right in front of our eyes.

Click here to go to the next article.

'Victoria Presley: I still miss my best friend, but all she did was use me.'

By Daniel Gomez

After staying away from social media and her job for a month and a half, beauty influencer Victoria Presley is back and she's not afraid of anything. Not even legal repercussions.

Back in July, Victoria received a 'Cease and Desist' letter from none other than former best friend y/n y/ln, demanding she stopped talking about her in public and to news outlets. This sparked the rumors that Presley had been selling her secrets to tabloids and was the one to reveal the engagement secret alongside actress Mia Kim, Aidan Kim's sister.

Victoria immediately removed herself from the narrative, deeply hurt by her ex-bestie's actions. Now, after gathering her thoughts and recovering from being stabbed in the back, she's giving us this exclusive interview.

"I can't help but miss y/n, she was my best friend for so long. But all she did was use me." Victoria is still in disbelief of y/n's actions, after giving her all her love and support. "I let her live in my house for months, and one day she leaves without any explanation. All to meet that Formula One guy."

Victoria has expressed her discontent with y/n's relationship with Charles Leclerc several times, arguing he is one of the main reasons y/n cut all ties with her and not the rumors that she revealed y/n's secrets to tabloids.

"He changed her for worse. Their relationship is so toxic, they breakup and get back together again and again, and they're just looking for ways to use the other's reputation for their benefit."

However, Victoria is certain the relationship won't last much longer, since y/n has her sight set on co-star Timothée Chalamet. "y/n has liked him for a while. When the rumors of his relationship with Kylie Jenner came out, she assured me she could steal him away with a flick of her hand."

Meanwhile, Victoria is focusing on her beauty line and its evergrowing sales. "I'm competing directly with Rare Beauty and Fenty. I'm in the big leagues, the way I deserve to be."

Click here to go to the next article.

'Aidan Kim reveals tracklist for "MIRRORS" and moves the release forward.'

By Paul Dean

Aidan Kim fans won't have to wait until October 5th anymore since their idol has decided to move the release date for his debut album forward by one month.

While we believe this decision was influenced by the news of ex-girlfriend y/n y/ln making her acting comeback in a high category movie, his fans also begged him to 'remind everyone of how awful y/n is' and judging by the titles of his upcoming tracks, we're sure he's leaving no crumbs.

Check out "MIRRORS" tracklist here:

In Your Pocket

All The Things I Hate About You

Him

Cry Me A River

Stabber

Stupid Love Letter

MIRRORS

Round and Round (Star-5 Reprise)

Yours and Mine (Star-5 Reprise)

Blinding Lights (The Weeknd Cover)

No Lie (With Mia Kim)

We can't wait for Aidan's insight on his relationship and breakup to y/n, we're certain the details are juicy! Don't forget to presave "MIRRORS" on Spotify and Apple Music!

Monza, Italy, September 3rd.

1...2...3... deep breath in, 4...5...6, breathe out.

You repeat the process five times until your heart has set in your chest and isn't trying to break free anymore. Until you've stopped squeezing your thighs with your palms and you can keep your eyes open without feeling like the red decoration is stabbing your eyeballs.

It's good that you can manage your anxiety before it turns into panic. You're still embarrassed about The Spain Incident, although neither Charles nor Carlos fault you for it at all. Still, every now and then, their panicked faces flashback in your mind and you feel sorry for them all over again.

You don't want this weekend to turn into The Monza Incident. Not when Charles' contract renewal was announced a few hours ago and he's on Pole Position, this weekend has to be perfect. Or as perfect as possible, for your boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

The weight of the word has multiplied by a thousand in your mind. Silly, when you really think about it. But palpable in a way that has butterflies flying around your stomach every time you think about the word and Charles' smiling face appears in your mind.

He's your boyfriend and you're his girlfriend, and this was a mutual agreement you reached with panic still holding you by the throat, only soothed by Charles' soft lips against your temple and his warm hands rubbing your skin.

You agreed to come to this Grand Prix because it will be the last one for you for a while. Filming for Little Women starts soon, and though they have a couple of races in the States, your schedule can be a little unpredictable. Also, you're hoping to score more roles soon.

You breathe again, deep enough that your lungs ache and lightheadedness threatens to rise through your body. You're overwhelming yourself, again.

According to the world, you’re not skilled enough to be in a movie with Saoirse and Timothée and should give up the role to someone who actually deserves it. Which you won’t do, of course. That someone who deserves it is yourself. It has taken a lot of pep talks in the bathroom mirror to brainwash yourself into believing it, but you’re getting there.

Plus, there are more things to worry about with Victoria back on her bullshit and Aidan's album coming out in two days. There are so many things to fix again, just when you thought you were getting there. Of course the two people that hate you most in the world have to mess with you again.

"Already here?" Carlos asks the second he crosses the door to the Suite. "It's way early."

"Good morning to you too," you let the air out of your already burning lungs and smile at Carlos. "I have nowhere else to be."

You could be at the Paddock Club, mingling with whatever celebrity or rich local is there. Or even visiting McLaren, since Lando offered to 'show you the garage', something Charles didn't like, of course. The secret of your newly earned girlfriend-boyfriend titles is one you try to keep close to your heart.

As if that has worked before.

A wave of anxiety runs down the back of your neck when you remember the tweet you saw this morning about a Deuxmoi tip on Charles and you. What could the exact price be, to reveal your relationship to the world?

"Have you had breakfast? Looks like you're going to throw up," Carlos says, sitting in the sofa opposite yours.

It's at least the fifth time he's told you that during the weekend. You know he does it out of a place of concern, but it still rubs you the wrong way. You also need to look perfect, not like you're going to throw up.

"I had breakfast back at the hotel, it's just the lighting."

"Sure?"

"I'm fine, Carlos. How are you?"

Carlos shrugs, he's not being the center of attention this weekend despite this being another home race for the team. "Good."

"Didn't you have to be at the meeting today?" you question, although it's obvious that by his getting there just now, he didn't.

"Had my PR reminders yesterday. Charles is different."

Of course. He has to know what he's allowed to say about his renewal and what he should not speak on at all.

Your own team advised you not to let yourself be seen at Monza. Mildred would have pulled you out of the plane if it had been up to her, and Walter would have helped her hold you hostage until the weekend was over.

They're both trying to find out about the Deuxmoi pictures too, although you doubt they can reach an agreement of any kind with whoever holds them to stop them from calling People Magazine up.

This whole avoiding being seen thing makes you feel wrong. As if you were doing something bad with Charles instead of just finally letting the love you've felt for him for months show. You hate it.

You're wrong to compare your current situation with your past ones. Aidan was your first really public romantic relationship, but before that, you didn't hide your partners either. Of course you weren't that famous, but even then, you didn't entertain the thought of scurrying around like criminals.

"He'll be fine, y/n," Carlos adds, looking at the way your foot keeps stomping the floor, like you're some kind of hyperactive bunny. "He's on Pole. You can pray for Max's downfall, though, maybe that'll help."

"I don't pray for people's downfall," you click your tongue, crossing your legs to stop the tic.

Karma and all that.

"Maybe you should." Carlos winks at you, and your conversation is finished as Charles leaves his meeting.

You can tell something's off just from the way his shoulders tense, but he smiles at you the moment your eyes meet.

"Everything okay?" you ask before he leans down to reach your height as you sit and pecks your lips.

"Yes, everything's good."

He's lying.

─────────

What was the point of coming to Monza if you're only watching the race through the screens?

You don't think the sun has touched your face at all since you got to the circuit, and you really want to be out there. But you stay put in your seat as the formation lap occurs right outside of the Suite.

It will make no difference, though, Charles is focused on the race, as he should be, rather than whether you're watching him through the TV.

Soon enough you know what will make a difference.

It's some kind of miracle that Charles has managed to regain the P1 position after the disastrous pit stop Ferrari put him through, and maybe Carlos was actually praying for Red Bull's downfall since Max has his very first DNF of the season and Checo can't get past George in P3.

Charles is going to win Monza again.

The decision making tree branches in front of you in a matter of seconds, people at the Suite are already talking excitedly and someone asks if you want to go down, there are four laps left.

You get up from your seat, aware that if life was anything like that videogame you played a couple times on the set of Parisian Valentine with your co-star, the "This action will have consequences" legend would appear on the screen right now.

You follow the Ferrari worker out, but even between the excitement and celebrations, you manage to hear what the PR Manager really thinks of your presence in the Paddock.

"She’s such a PR nightmare,"

She switches to Italian when your eyes fly to her face. And you can only wonder what cruel yet entirely accurate thing she said.

It's worse than a nightmare. It feels like the apocalypse all over again. And the weight of the world is back on your shoulders, feeling like you're messing up what was a weekend out of a dream for Charles.

You flashback to Monaco and the way Mati pulled you out of your head and locked your phone in her purse. You wish she was here more with each passing second. You cannot tear your eyes away from every single tweet speculating about your presence, about your relationship, about your intentions. It's overwhelming.

But Charles' happiness is what matters. He's absolutely ecstatic, even after the mishaps during the interviews where his PR training had to kick in and lead reporters back to Formula 1 related questions.

The thought that maybe you should have tried to make friends with more people occurs to you when you arrive at the celebration in the private club and Charles is dragged away from you. He tries his best to hold on to your hand, but the truth is people want to be with him and not you, so you let him take the spotlight he deserves and enjoy it.

"So, are you and Charles dating, then? Didn't you use to be engaged?"

You half-smile at the girl who just asked you the question, so boldly it takes you aback. But you guess her eyes are so bright from how much alcohol there is in her system, she's bound to be direct with liquid courage running through her veins. She's pretty in that dark hair, dark eyes way that has you momentarily doubting your own looks.

The extra heartbeat that takes you to reply, has her eyes shifting around the room before settling on Charles, who is finally walking back to your side.

Your boyfriend hands you a drink and smiles at the dark-haired girl and her friend, politely. "Are you having a good time?" the question is mostly directed towards you, but both girls jump at the chance of saying they're having the time of their lives and congratulating Charles for such an epic win. But they prompt you to join the conversation a few seconds later, so you're grateful for it either way.

There's a song in Spanish playing on the speakers and Charles is doing his best to sing the words while encouraging you to move to the beat with him. With his arms around you, things feel a little lighter, the whole in your chest that anxiety carved out is slowly filling with the love you feel for him, and the happiness of the day outshines the darkness of the thoughts in the back of your mind.

That is, at least, until the first notes of 'In Your Pocket' replace the previous song, after the DJ announces it's a special request. It's a remix, obviously, so people can dance to it, but a few of them have stopped moving altogether just to be a little less discreet about eyeing you.

"C'est pas amusant," you hear Charles say to one of his friends, who is hiding his mouth behind a tall glass of alcohol, his eyes still betray his enjoyement.

"It's fine," you squeeze Charles' arm, trying your best to smile although you're being put in the spotlight and there's nearly nothing worse than being the butt of a cruel joke. "It's just a song."

You wondered many times what those surrounding Charles thought of you. They didn't know you, after all. His brothers were nice to you when you saw them around the Paddock, and it wasn't like you'd hung around the rest of his friends. Did they mock him when tabloids called him a homewrecker? Or did they believe he'd just embarked on what seemed to be a dead-end relationship?

"I'm sorry, soleil, they're just— they're idiots," Charles adds, his hand reaching for yours. He looks genuinely upset and you can't help but hate whoever requested the song a little more for spoiling Charles' mood rather than for making fun of you.

"Charlie, it's okay, I've been through worse," your reassurance doesn't soothe him, so you squeeze his hand and he presses his lips to your temple. "I'd rather listen to Bad Bunny or something, though."

Charles laughs and pulls you out of the dancefloor, to a more private part of the club where you both can catch your breath and share a few kisses, unafraid of people staring at you.

New York, United States, September 7th.

You know you're in trouble when Mildred calls tells you that you need to be at her office ASAP. She also used that condescending 'I'm the adult' tone that send you back to when you were fifteen and got in trouble with your mother, so it's another indication that she's angry at you.

Of course you know why, the words 'PR nightmare' haven't left your brain in days. And the moment you set foot in New York, Mildred was all over you about every single thing that was being said about the Monza Incident—aka seeing your boyfriend like any normal person would.

"This isn't ideal," Mildred says after a while, she has been explaining the public's perception of you for the past half hour. "It's like you—"

"Like I fucked up?" you cut her off, squeezing your knees to stop from biting your nails.

"We were rebuilding your brand, y/n. People think you waited for things to die a little so you could go public with Charles. Aidan's new album is not helping your case."

If you thought 'In Your Pocket' was bad, nothing compared to the rest of the songs. Some in which he called you a list of things including a homie-hopper, drama starter and said you settled for a 'bum' when you could have had a 'rockstar'.

"How is that my fault?" you don't intend to sound so whiny, but you can't help it. Why are Aidan's actions always your fault somehow?

"People are talking more about how you are dating a Ferrari Driver after spending months saying you weren't, rather than the fact that you landed an incredibly important role."

"We haven't told anyone we're dating,"

Mildred rolls her eyes despite her best efforts to remain professional. "Do you really think that's necessary?"

"What do you suggest we do?" you ask, knowing you won't like the answer.

─── team principal radio: ❝remember when I said it wouldn't take me one month to update delicate and then it took me longer than that? I'M SO SORRY LMAO. also not loving this chapter but i just want it out of my way for now i need it off my drafts, but don't worry this time i'll try for the next not to take me a century. thank you if you're still here, your patience means the world to me i love you all so muuuuch♡❞

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#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc series #formula 1 imagine #formula one au #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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secretsofblackthornhall · 2 years

Text

Emma To Bruce

Dear Bruce,

We did it! The curse is broken! Rupert is free! Long live Rupert!

In retrospect, it’s insane how much of this we tried to do by ourselves. We should have known that when we finally succeeded we would do it with a whole team present—in this case Jem, Tessa, Kit, and Magnus. (Mina assisted by raising morale and drawing all over everything with her toy stele.)

Everyone’s still here, too, and we can relax a little in a newly uncursed house. (It really is quite homey, now that it’s been cleaned up and, you know, had its demonic aura dispelled.) Everyone except Magnus, who left this afternoon in a great rush to get back to New York.

New paragraph to talk about this, actually, because I have a lot of questions that don’t have answers and I can only ask you, Bruce. So Magnus was in a hurry to get back because of a meeting Alec is holding with Luke and some other Downworlders about plans for negotiating with the Cohort. Okay, but I feel like the Cohort doesn’t have much leverage, right? The situation is way worse for them than for us. We should be able to wait them out—shouldn’t we?

I mean they have a symbolic advantage, I guess. We’re all Shadowhunters and we all miss Idris and Alicante and Lake Lyn and probably a lot of us left stuff there we can’t get back and oh right, also a lot of people lived there who have had to evacuate all over the world and want to get back. I get that. But, like…what are the Cohort even eating in there? Idris doesn’t really grow food. Are they all homesteading in there? Raising crops? Churning butter? It’s kind of hard to imagine Zara doing any of that. But you never know. I mean, there aren’t even any demons to fight in there. Which is a good reminder that Shadowhunters are definitely not meant to hole up in Idris where there’s no demons for them to fight. I feel like Raziel was pretty clear on that point.

They must be losing their minds in there. I hope they found some board games or something.

Maybe Zara has declared herself Queen for Life and she doesn’t have to farm because she just marches around threatening to kill anybody who doesn’t grow her a potato right this instant.

Or maybe we haven’t heard anything because they all ate each other in there. Or maybe they mutinied against Zara and someone else gets to threaten to kill people now.

Okay, end of pondering the Cohort. I’m in a good mood, or was before I started this entry, anyway. We’ve been hanging out with Jem and Tessa and Kit and it’s really great. We ordered in Chinese (delivery couriers are always a bit terrified to come up the driveway, but we tip them like crazy so they’ve started to know us while we’ve been here). We lit candles—for ambience instead of for dark magic, what an idea!—and ate dumplings until we were too full to move, a thing I haven’t done since Magnus and Alec’s wedding. Apparently if I am offered dumplings, I will eat them until I become a dumpling myself. To that I say: I would never reject becoming that which I love most.

Anyway. Even Kit was less broody than usual tonight! He was hanging out with Round Tom and they seemed to be getting on okay. Oh, and I almost forgot! How could I forget! The workers found a coffin buried in the garden. But there was not a horrifying dead body inside, but rather a bunch of old stuff! Using a coffin as a time capsule seemed like a weird choice to me, but Tessa and Jem made some faces and some noises that suggested there was a long-ish story there we’ll have to ask about later.

Anyway, in the coffin was A SCABBARD FOR CORTANA. I mean, right? Can you believe it? Tessa said it used to belong to Cordelia Carstairs, who was Cortana’s wielder generations ago. The scabbard needs a lot of cleaning (a lot of cleaning) but then it can be reunited with Cortana. (After all, I think it’s probably more Cortana’s possession than anyone else’s; perhaps they’ll be happy to be reunited.)

There was also a sword for Julian—what used to be a Blackthorn family sword, but this one is only a hilt, its blade is totally missing, I have no idea why. He’s talking about getting it reforged. Big shock, Round Tom knows a guy. Triangular Jerry. No, I’m kidding on the name, but Round Tom actually does know a blacksmith and he and Julian have started talking about getting that done. (Actually, what Round Tom wants to do is have a forge installed at Chiswick, which is a cool idea, but do we want another building project on top of all the others? I mean, maybe, having a forge here at the house would be pretty cool.)

Oh, you might be wondering about Rupert’s ring, since it’s not like he could take it with him, and he hasn’t come back for it in a ghost way. Magnus checked it out and said no magic any more, just an ordinary ring Tatiana must have enchanted to bind Rupert. But none of us is going to wear it, of course. So we put it on the mantelpiece in the drawing room. Where it will remain.

The Gray-Carstairs-Herondaleses are heading back to Cirenworth tomorrow. It’s been really great having them here, but you know, it will be nice to have them go and have it be just Julian and I here in the house, not feeling creepy all the time. That seems like good times for us.

Bruce, good times are canceled. Everything’s gone wrong. I guess I was a little too smug about how everything was going; the universe had to come and screw it up for me.

Mina is gone.

And by gone I mean kidnapped.

And by kidnapped I mean, the kidnapper left a creepy old-timey porcelain doll (with wide, dead eyes, ugh) in her place, and a note.

I had just finished writing the above stuff when I heard a horrible scream from upstairs and loud footsteps, and came out to find everyone gathered in Mina’s room staring in horror.

I immediately thought oh no, another curse, or the same curse, the curse isn’t over, and maybe you did too, but that’s not what this is. This is something else entirely. Something involving faeries. Something involving Faerie.

Tessa picked up the note, read it, and handed it to Jem with a bad look on her face. Julian was already opening the window to see if anyone could be spotted outside, and I read over Jem’s shoulder:

#secrets of blackthorn hall #sobh #mina carstairs #emma carstairs #Tessa gray #faerie #jem carstairs #Rupert #zara dearborn #The Cohort #cortana

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rafferty3207 · 11 months

Note

hi! could i request jamie x reader. neighbours. annoyance to lovers please?

I loved this idea and also got massively carried away as always, so this will have to be split in two parts!

warnings: two horny idiots as usual, swearing, artist fem!reader, nudity

Too Good to be True (part one)

You knew it was too good to be true.

When your mum’s quirky bohemian friend Sylvia told you that she needed someone to house sit over the summer, you never realised it would look like this. You had always known she was well-off, but it turns out Sylvia was rich rich. Her house was in a beautiful area of London you had never been before, full of tall semi terraced Georgian buildings with big ornate gardens. It was the sort of area almost exclusively frequented by yummy mummies and incognito celebrities.

As you walk around all the gorgeous rooms, tenderly stroking the furniture, you felt like you couldn’t have wished for a nicer place if you tried. After living in an awful house share with terrible roommates for the last six months, you were ready for some alone time.

This was not to be. On your first day in the house, after several hours exploring all the nooks and crannies, you eventually fall asleep in her massive bed around midnight; however, you are rudely awoken about four hours later by the sound of arguing outside. You try to ignore them but it only gets louder, until you are forced to put on one of Sylvia’s many(!) silk robes and investigate.

You march outside to see two men facing each other in the doorframe of the house attached to yours.

“Would you two mind shutting the fuck up? It’s 4am and some of us are trying to sleep?”

They both turned around. They are both incredibly handsome; one is dark and surly looking and standing outside with his arms crossed. The other has an incredible jawline and floppy boyband hair, and is still standing in the doorway. The boyband one looks you up and down and you feel your cheeks heat up. It’s times like these you regretted sleeping in the nude, as you huddle the way-too-thin robe tightly around you. He eventually folds his arms indignantly and opens his mouth.

“Love, you don’t understand, we’re -”

“I do not give a flying fuck who you are, just be quiet. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months and I’m not about to have two bozos ruin it with their lover’s tiff.”

You huff, turning swiftly back indoors before a sharp night’s breeze could expose you.

The surly man who had remained quiet for this entire exchange turns to his friend.

“I like her.”

____

The next morning, you open the front door to find a small beautiful wrapped box.On the label it just says,

Hey Neighbour,

Sweet Dreams

Jamie xx

Jamie. That must have been the floppy haired one.

You tentatively open it to find a small pair of earplugs. The cheeky git.

However, that night when you climb into bed, you spot the box of earplugs. You don’t want to use them out of spite, but also you are shattered and couldn’t risk getting woken up again.

You were surprised to wake up a whole 12 hours later. It's the best you've felt in a long time. You look up the earplugs online and it turns out they are very expensive. He may be rude, but at least he wasn't cheap. You consider thanking him, especially as you start regularly seeing him stretching or working out in the garden, until one day he catches you looking. He waves at you with the smug grin of a prick who knows how good he looks, and you have to immediately walk away. At this point you decide never to talk to him again if you can help it. After all, it was just one summer - how much could you see him really?

It’s the next Sunday when you are walking home from your weekly shop in perhaps your grossest sweats, hair everywhere and glasses still on. To make matters worse, you're struggling as you always buy too much to fit into your bag.

It’s at this point when some dreadful orange sports car pulls up next to you and honks their horn, making you nearly jump out of your skin and drop half your stuff on the ground. You turn around just to see a familiar smug face as he waves at you before speeding off. No, he is a prick.

After you make it home, you decide to forget all about him. But these are old houses, and the walls are thinner than you’d like. More specifically, a week or so later, as you get into bed you think you can hear a voice. You think it may be a ghost, until you hear a distinct Mancunian twang and you realise that Jamie’s bedroom is directly connected to yours (or at least one of them was, who was to say how many bedrooms these sorts of houses had.) It’s when you hear another, softer voice that you realise that maybe Jamie has company.

But it’s fine. He’s allowed to have people over. You go back to your book until ten minutes later, when you start hearing very different noises. He definitely was not alone. And clearly whoever he was with was having a great time.

Your stomach tightens. This isn't just annoying at this point, it’s downright depressing. You can't remember the last time someone made you feel like that. As much of a patronising shit as he was, you had to admit that Jamie was very attractive. You try to keep reading, but you soon find your imagination straying into unwanted territory. Your entire body goes flush when you catch yourself, so you put your earplugs in and go to sleep. Eventually.

—-

It's a blisteringly hot day and you've made the mistake of buying yet another heavy shop. As you're walking home, you're covered in sweat. You're trying to get home as fast as you can before some of the food defrosts in this heat, but it's like wading through hot sticky mud.

You take one more step and suddenly feel a bit lightheaded. You stagger to a nearby wall and sit down, looking down at your feet. It's at this point that of course you see out of the corner of your eye, a familiar orange car pulling up in front of you. You wave a hand away.

"Not now Jamie."

"Are you alright?"

You look up and he's got a genuine look of concern on his face.

"Yeah, I just needed a breather. If you haven't noticed, it's very hot out here."

He pauses for a moment.

"Did you want a lift?"

"I'm good, thanks. It's not that far."

"Don't be daft, just get in the car."

"Jamie -"

"It's got really good air con."

You look at your bags. You really didn't want the food to go bad in this heat.

"Fine."

You drop your bags into the bag and slide into the seat next to him. You can't help but notice how gross and sweaty you were on his nice leather seats.

"Sorry, I'm very gross and sweaty." You immediately say without thinking.

He looks over and laughs.

"Trust me, this car has seen a lot worse."

You groan.

"Oh come on, I don't need to imagine that."

"I just meant after training, Jesus woman, get your head out of the gutter!"

"Training for what?"

He laughs again. "You're joking, right?"

You shake your head.

"You seriously don't know who I am?"

"Should I?"

He smiles as he looks back out to the road.

"Nah, I guess not."

You look around his car.

"All I need to know is that you've clearly got more money than sense."

"Oi, I'm doing you a favour here like a bloody gentleman!"

“I mean I don’t know if this is really a favour. You could be kidnapping me for all I know.”

“Love, I’ve got more than enough money. I do not need to kidnap some random bird for a ransom.”

“Who says you’re doing it for money?”

He sighs and shakes his head.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible, or just practical? Us ‘random birds’ have got to look out for ourselves.”

“Well then, Your Highness, we have arrived.” Jamie signals to your door as the car pulls to a stop. “You can get out now, I promise.”

You get out and go to get your bags,but Jamie quickly grabs them and is walking to your door. You run ahead, making sure you’ll be able to get in and clear any embarrassing debris before he can see it.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

He shrugs. "I used to help my mum carry her shopping all the time when it was just me and her. Now I just pay to get it delivered to her house."

You stop at the front door. The admission strikes you. You wondered for a moment what Jamie was like when he was younger. You wondered where his dad was. However, Jamie didn’t understand your silence.

“I’m not trying anything, I swear. I won’t come in and …” He looks around. “Steal your knickers or whatever.”

You scoff as you turn around.

“That’s a weird thing to say.”

He huffs in exasperation.

“Look, my arms are going to drop off, can you just open the bloody door already?”

“Alright, but if any one of my knickers are gone, you’re in serious trouble.”

“Aye aye captain.” He tries to salute, but wacks himself in the face with one of the bags. You stifle a laugh, before letting him in. He smiles at you for a moment, and you feel an unfamiliar warm feeling in your chest. Best to just ignore that and get back to the task at hand.

As you put everything away, he looks around. There are unfinished canvas and paint everywhere.

"Are you one of them fancy pants artists then?"

"Not yet. I'm one of those unpaid ones.” You suddenly feel very shy. “I'm just house-sitting for the summer, I'm not rich. Unlike you.”

“So no one is paying your ransom then?”

“No one would pay good money for me. In fact, they might actually pay you for taking me away.” You say it flippantly, but Jamie sees the slightly dejected look on your face.

“So maybe you should be the one kidnapping me, eh? I tell you, I’d go for a pretty penny.” He gently biffs your arm. You don’t look at him, continuing to pack away the shopping.

“Well if I ever have to turn to a life of crime, you’ll be the first to know.”

He stands around for a minute, as if he’s not sure what to do with himself, before going to leave.

“Thanks, by the way.” You call out.

He turns around and shrugs.

“Any time.”

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you. Next thing you know, you’ll be my personal Uber.”

He jogs down the front steps, without looking back.

“Only if you start tipping!”

___

A few days later, you're gardening when suddenly a ball crashes into the ground right near your hand. You scream, causing Jamie to pop his head over.

"Jesus Jamie, are you trying to kill me?"

You stand up and dust your knees. He's got that concerned look on his face yet again.

"Are you alright?"

You reassure him. "I'm fine, you just missed me.” You pinch your fingers almost together. “Just."

He looks sheepish.

"I'm sorry."

You fold your arms.

"You should be."

As you say this, two other men peer their head over the fence.

"Sorry miss. We're just playing a round of cricket." One replies in a soft Welsh accent. Behind them, you notice the surly man sitting in the back of the garden, who nods at you.

"Roy's taking a break if you want to join?" Jamie offers you the bat.

"Are you asking me to play with you Jamie?"

"Well, you're less likely to get hit in this garden."

"Hmmm." You think of all the empty canvas you were ignoring. "Fine, but let me get changed first."

As you start to walk into the house, one of the boys turns to Jamie.

"You didn't tell me your neighbour was fit."

"Isaac, don’t even think about it.” Jamie chides him. Something about this made your stomach feel squiggly, but you couldn’t put a name on it.

This squiggly feeling means it takes you a little longer than planned to get dressed, as you meticulously scrub the dirt from your hands and knees and maybe apply a tinted lipbalm or two. By the time you come back out, the men seem to have doubled and one of them has somehow set up a barbecue. The game of cricket seems long forgotten as they sit and drink around the fire pit. You pick up a beer bottle and wander around, trying to slip into one of the group conversations.

“When do you think Ted and Rebecca will get together?” A man with a strong french accent says.

“I dunno, I still think him and Trent have got something going on.” Colin muses thoughtfully. Isaac nods with him.

“Yeah man, there were vibes between them at Christmas.”

You decide to pipe up now before you have to figure out who Ted, Trent or Rebecca was.

"Sorry to interrupt, but how do you all know each other?".

The boys look at each other, then Jamie.

"We all play football together." Jamie finally breaks the silence.

"Oh that's cute!” You look around at this crew. They are all very handsome, but all looked very different, from all walks of life. “It's so hard to make friends as an adult I find, so it's good to have hobbies. Do you think I'll be allowed to come to one of your matches?"

They all look at each other again and start to laugh. You think you've missed something but you figure it's some inside joke.

One of the guys, who you think you heard referred to as Sam, leans forward. "So Miss, what do you do for a living?"

You take a swig from your bottle.

"I'm an art teacher. I teach at the local college, although it's mainly adult evening classes. You know the saying, ‘those who can't do, teach’. At least, that’s what my dad likes to say."

"But you can do though." Jamie pipes up from behind his beer. "I've seen all them canvas in your house."

"Ah, you are a painter. Are you more of a modernist or post modernist?" Jan, the tall Dutch one asks.

"I don’t know, I mean I've got a show at the end of the summer which I'm preparing for but I'm not very good-"

"If you've got a show you must be good. Or at least someone thinks so." Jamie folds his arms.

“I mean, I guess, the guy at the gallery did personally invite me-.”

“There you go.” Jamie nodded triumphantly.

“Can we see them? The paintings?” Sam asked.

“Not yet! They are nowhere near ready!” This was somewhat true. For the most part, you had barely started. You had been struggling for inspiration lately, but you weren’t going to tell this extremely attractive group of men that. “You’ll have to come to the art show. I’ve got some flyers in the house. I can get them if you like?”

The boys enthusiastically nod, and you make sure to hand them each one, with Jamie receiving the last flyer. Your fingers brush for a moment, and you find yourself staring at each other a bit too long until you are interrupted by a loud cough.

“The meat is ready, Jamie.” Roy loudly announced.

“Coming!”

The rest of the night goes quickly in a blur, as all the boys bombard you with questions and you find yourself chatting to all of them in depth. You’re pretty sure you know all their life stories by the end of it. Eventually, the night wears on and they all slope off one by one until it’s just you, Jamie and Roy left. Roy is sound asleep on Jamie’s couch, and the two of you quietly start cleaning up.

“You don’t have to help me, you know.” Jamie says. “I’m a big boy, I can clean up after meself.”

You drop a can into the recycling bag.

“I know. But a nice guy dropped me off when I was struggling to take my shopping home, so I thought I’d return the favour.”

Jamie stopped what he was doing.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

You looked at him confused.

“I know.”

The two of you go back to tidying in silence.

“So, Isaac thinks I’m fit, does he?”

Jamie drops the bottle he was holding. He frantically grabs a dustpan and brush and frantically starts brushing the broken glass. Roy stirs for a minute, then rolls back over. You gently took the dustpan off him and empty it into the bin.

“No! Er, I mean, he does, but he thinks anything with a pulse is fit.”

“So you’re saying he’s got low standards?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just- just-”

“I’m teasing. I obviously know that just means he has excellent taste.”

“And I thought I had a big head.”

“I mean, you do, but that’s beside the point.”

“Oi, I can say it, but you can’t!” At this point, Jamie puts down the bag and picks up the hose.

“What do you think you’re doing with that?” You ask.

“What do you think?” He says, before switching it on, chasing you with the spray. You run away, screaming.

“I’ll get you for this!”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do to me?” He moves the hose to catch you again, but at the exact same time Roy walks outside and Jamie catches him in the face. You both freeze.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow, Jamie!” You quickly leave, waving a goodbye as you start to hear the beginning of Roy’s bollocking.

Later, as you go up to your bedroom and dry your hair with a towel, you spot Jamie and Roy chatting in the garden. Jamie looks up at you and smiles. You smile and wave back, before pointing at your still soaking t-shirt.

“I hope you’re proud.” You mouth at him. He shrugs and you shake his head.

Roy turns to Jamie.

“When are you just going to fucking ask her out already?”

___

After the barbecue you start to see Jamie more often.

He almost always drops you home from your big shop, and sometimes drops you there too. He always says hello when you're in the garden and even starts asking for gardening advice.

One day, when it is too hot, you buy a child's paddling pool to sit in your bikini. Jamie, who has been trying and failing to do his workout in the sun, asks if he can join you and the two of you sit in it in silence until the sun goes down. Both of you are definitely not checking each other out behind your sunglasses when the other isn’t looking.

Then one night, you go out with some of your old university friends. What was meant to be just one drink turns into several bottles and you find yourself outside the front door at 3am trying to get the key to work.

After what feels like forever, you hear a door open.

"Oh, how the turn tables."

"Hello Jamie." You slur a little, swaying gently. "If you don't mind I could really do with focusing right now."

"Well it seems like you are doing just fine without me, so I'll leave you to it." He goes inside, sighing before coming straight back out again.

"Do you want to come in? Maybe have a cup of tea? Some toast?"

Your shoulders sag, "I would love that, yes. My feet are absolutely killing me." You follow him as enthusiastically as you can while he gently takes your arm and guides you in.

You flop down on the couch, quickly taking off your shoes and putting your feet up.

"Jamie, how long have you lived here?"

"About six months, why?"

"There's no decoration in here at all. This is the house of a killer, Jamie." He pops back around holding two mugs.

"I mean, I dunno. I'm not sure how to make it look good.

"It doesn't have to look good. It's your house. It just has to make you happy. What makes you happy Jamie?"

He takes a minute to think, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Bums?”

“I like what I like.”

“Hmmm. We can work with that. Perhaps a big tasteful nude somewhere around here.” You wave your hand towards the fireplace.

“Do you paint nudes?” Jamie pauses for a moment. “Nude is them pictures of naked people right?”

“Yeah they are and are you asking me to paint you a nude Jamie? Men usually slide into my DMS for that sort of thing.”

“Not like that. I just think your art is really cool. It reminds me of that guy…what’s his name? Frankie Bakeoff?”

“Francis Bacon?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“He’s actually one of my inspirations. You know, you've got a good eye Jamie.”

He sits down, placing the mugs on the table.

“Er, I’ve got two good eyes actually.” He remains completely deadpan and at this point, you let out a proper laugh.

“You know I never asked you what you do for a living. I mean, you’re obviously a comedian but you know, for money. Especially to live in a place like this.”

“I’m a footballer.”

“Haha, yeah, good one.”

“I don’t know why that’s so hard to believe. My name is Jamie Tartt and I play for AFC Richmond.”

You squint at him, before pulling out your phone. You type in “Jamie Tartt.” And suddenly there are thousands and thousands of articles and pictures with tiny Jamies staring back at you.

“Oh my god. And all those boys at the BBQ -”

“They are my teammates.”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” You cry out, putting your face in your hands. “I told all of them about my dad’s five a side! They must all think I’m a complete idiot!”

“Nah. They all thought it was pretty cute.”

“I’m glad someone finds my stupidity cute.”

“I dunno, I think a lot of stuff you do is cute.”

Your face goes red. He can’t have meant that. You look at him. He truly is beautiful, although he must know it. You remembered the woman in his room. He could get anyone and you know it.

“Have you ever done modelling Jamie?”

“I mean yeah. I’ve done shoots for stuff. Adidas, Nike and my own fragrance for men, Tarttbreaker.”

“What the hell does that even mean? You know what, never mind, I was just wondering..would you fancy posing? For a painting?” You look at your feet. “It’s just, I’m so sick of painting myself and oranges at this point.”

His eyes light up.

“Really? You want to paint me?”

“Don’t let it go to that massive head of yours Tartt.”

“I can’t promise anything.” He sits down next to you, placing the mugs on the table. The throbbing in your feet still hasn’t gone away, and without thinking you start rubbing your soles. Curse those beautiful shoes, you think to yourself.

“Here, I can help with that.” You didn’t realise Jamie was staring at your feet.

“What?”

“Trust me, I’m really good at foot rubs.”

“Is this some weird foot thing?”

“No, you perv. My physio showed me some really good tricks. You know the physio I have because I am a professional footballer, yeah?” You roll your eyes as he gently takes your foot.

“You’re never going to let me live that do-”

You can’t finish the sentence as you are distracted by just how good it feels. A small “fuck” slips out.

“Is that alright? I didn’t hurt ya, did I? I can stop.”

“No, no no no. No.”

You are surprised by your own enthusiasm. He slowly starts again, and you say nothing, until a small moan slips out. Jamie’s head suddenly whips up.

“I mean, I think my ankles are more sore than anything -” He moves his hands up, moving his thumbs in slow circles. You thought this would improve things, but it’s just making things worse. Your heart is racing.

“And what about your calves?”

You nod dumbly. “They’re pretty - pretty sore too.”

His hands hesitantly move up your leg, up to your knees. His face inches closer to yours, his hands about to move down your thigh, when your stomach very loudly rumbles. He jumps up and your legs close shut.

“I was going to make you toast.”

“Yes, yes you were.” He leaves the room and you lie back on the couch. Your head is spinning.. What is going on? You think as your eyes slowly start to close.

By the time Jamie finally returns to the room, two very distracted attempts at toast later, you are fast asleep on the couch. He picks up a blanket and covers you, before heading upstairs. He then lies down, closing his eyes for just a minute, until there is a soft knock on the door.

“Are you ready for training, fuckhead?”

“Shh.” He points to you, sound asleep and snoring.

Roy tilts his head. Jamie whispers. “I’ll explain later.”

______

You wake up with a pounding headache. It takes you a second to realise you are not in your bed. You are on someone’s couch. Jamie’s couch.

You look at your phone. 9:03am. You look around for any sign of him, but it seems like he’s gone already. YOu decide to wash up the mugs, before you spot it on his fridge. There is no decoration in any of his flat, except one flyer that is stuck on the fridge. Your flyer.

You smile, before finding a piece of paper and a pen.

That afternoon, you return to your flat. Looking at your big canvas you know what to do.

___

Jamie finally gets back to his flat and he is exhausted. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about last night, and as he suspected, you are long gone by the time he gets home.

However, as he walks through, he notices a little note stuck on the fridge in front of your flyer.

Thanks for the tea and the footrub.

You can wake me up any time.

PS. Let me know when you’re free, you poser.

With your number added to the bottom.

He can’t help but smile to himself, before wandering out into the garden.

He hopes to see you there, but you’re not. He looks back towards the house and stops dead in his tracks. He can see you in one of the rooms, in front of one of your canvas. But you are completely naked.

He looks away. He knows he shouldn’t. But maybe he just imagined it. He takes another quick look to confirm, you are definitely naked as the day you were born. You have your back to him, but it’s clear you are looking in some sort of mirror. He suddenly realises. You’re painting yourself. He walks quickly inside and decides it’s time to go to bed. He puts his earplugs in and goes to sleep. Eventually.

Thanks for reading! You can read chapter two here!

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader

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deancaspinefest · 4 months

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Another Kind of Memory

Author: FriendofCarlotta | Artist: Aggiedoll

Posting on Wednesday March 20

Since a traumatic incident six years ago, Castiel Novak’s face has been disfigured by a scar. He’s resigned himself to being someone people can barely stand to look at, let alone love. Except his heart doesn’t seem to have gotten the message. When Dean Winchester takes over the convenience store down the street from Castiel’s bookshop, Castiel falls helplessly in love with his new neighbor. To make matters worse, Castiel’s sister Anna is also interested in Dean. Believing that Dean could never love him, Castiel decides to help Anna win his heart instead.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“Hey,” Dean says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Just… wanted to say hi.”

“Oh. Hi,” Castiel says, one hand fluttering nervously down his face and across his hair in an attempt to ensure he’s looking presentable. The tips of his fingers catch on the ugly, jagged ridge of his scar, and he remembers that “presentable” stopped being an option six years ago. He clears his throat and arranges his face in the polite mask of a consummate customer service professional. “Anything I can help you find?”

“Um.” Dean looks uncertain now, as though it’s a question he wasn’t expecting — despite the fact that it’s easily the most predictable question one could be asked in a bookshop. “I don’t know. I was just gonna browse, I guess.”

This is the point in a customer interaction where Castiel would usually withdraw, because “I’m just browsing” is universal bookstore code for “leave me the fuck alone.” But Dean doesn’t give any sign of wanting to walk away. Instead, he simply hovers in front of Castiel’s armchair, eyes gliding aimlessly (and somewhat helplessly) across the shelves to his right.

“What sort of things do you like to read?” Castiel finds himself asking, because it’s impossible not to take pity on a grown man who is capable of looking so bashfully lost.

“Anything,” Dean says. One of his hands flies to the back of his neck, rubbing at it. There’s something terribly endearing about the gesture — perhaps the fact that it makes him look like a boy who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Belatedly, it occurs to Castiel that it’s his turn to speak. His prolonged silence appears to have made Dean nervous, because he’s speaking again, a little too quickly to be altogether natural. “I know that sounds stupid. Like those people who say they like all kinds of music — which I don’t, by the way, just to be clear. Big classic rock fan. Zeppelin, the Stones. Metallica too, which I guess is classic rock these days and fuck, that’s kind of depressing. But, yeah. Anyway. Pretty much anything. Love Vonnegut and Kerouac, but I’ve read just about all their stuff. I’ll read sci-fi, horror, mysteries… actually, I guess I should say I read all kinds of fiction. Non-fiction kinda puts me right to sleep. My brother, Sammy, he’s a big fan though. Crazy about true crime for some reason.” Dean blows out a heavy breath. He abruptly seems to realize he’s scratching at his neck and lowers his arm back down, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do with themselves now. “You probably didn’t need to know all that, huh?”

“No, this is helpful,” Castiel says, getting up. “I’ll show you the layout of the store so you can see which shelves you might be most interested in.”

Somehow, Dean’s shyness makes him feel more at ease. When he first laid eyes on Dean, he thought someone as handsome as Dean must be a smooth and confident conversationalist. But he doesn’t seem to be, and somehow, that makes it easier for Castiel to hold up his own end of the conversation.

Or maybe it’s just that Dean doesn’t know how to talk to someone like Castiel. He wouldn’t be the first one.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Wednesday March 20)

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel art #deancas art #pinefest 2024 #pinefest previews #2024 Dean/Cas Pinefest #author: FriendofCarlotta #artist: Aggiedoll #Inspired by Cyrano de Bergerac #Love Letters #Misunderstandings

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seeingivy · 1 year

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three days

roommate eren x f!reader

three years can feel like an eternity, if you let them

**find the mini-series masterlist here

content warning: eren being miserable, jean being annoying again, hitch being even worse

an: ok I promise we return to regularly scheduled sweet boy eren after this (which is almost done being written) :00000

previous part linked here

Eren doesn’t sleep well. Some part of him was always flighty - twisting and turning every time he heard a noise, the fan whirring, the room creaking. He’d been like that, since he was a kid.

His mom had mentioned that when she visited the nursery for the first time, right after he was born, that the only reason Zeke could point him out in the row of other boys was because he was rustling, struggling against his swaddle.

The only thing that put him at ease? Kept him still through the night? You. When you would still sleep in his bed.

The first night, after you so quickly mentioned that the two of you were a mistake, he couldn’t sleep. He could still smell you, your peach scent pressed against his pillows and his blankets. He runs his hand against his pillow cases, wishing you were here with him.

The following morning, it took him thirty minutes to brace himself. To face you. He has to fight the urge - to touch you, press himself against you and kiss you full on the mouth. Like he should have, when you asked him to.

He should have just done it. Maybe you’d still be here with him if he would have. Screw Zeke. All that shit about making a special moment, making your heart flutter. He should have just kissed you.

When you were in the bathroom, getting ready. When you put his necklace on, when he lost you in the crowd, when he carried you at the concert, when you kissed his fucking cheek, when you asked him to.

He braced himself. Deep breaths, grounding techniques. Just like Mikasa and Armin taught him. When he leaves the safe confines of his room, he finds that your key was off the hook and your sneakers were absent from the door. You left already. You’re avoiding him just as much as he’s avoiding you.

You don’t return that night. He’s okay with it. He can’t see you. Not yet anyways.

It worries him, the second day. You still haven’t returned. He couldn’t have messed up that badly, could he? You couldn’t hate him this much, so much so that you wouldn’t come home.

He marches over to the office, where Armin, Jean, and Annie are supposed to be. He’s hoping you’ll be there. That he’ll open the door and find you there, sprawled across the floor like you usually are.

But you’re not. Just Jean, Armin, and Annie - staring him down.

“What’s wrong with you, Eren? Why are you…panting?”

“Nothing, Annie. I just thought Y/N might be here.”

“She’s out of town. Left a late notice yesterday morning for Victor.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No. Must have been in a rush. I didn’t even see her before she left.”

Armin and Annie return to their work, Annie typing on her computer and Armin grading his papers.

“I saw her before she left.”

Of course he did.

“How did she seem, Jean?”

“Well, a little bit earlier. She came to our apartment after she met Hitch.”

Right. When you ran out, after he handed you the tulips.

“Well, what did she say?”

“Nothing much. Just asked me who she was, that’s all.”

“And what did you say?”

“Just the usual. That you guys pretended to see each other during soccer season, because of Marlowe.”

“You didn’t tell her that I liked Hitch, right? That I’m with her or anything?”

“No. Just that you guys are close during season because you spend time together and all.”

There goes any hope of it being a misunderstanding. He doesn’t sleep that night either. Your scent on his pillows serves as a cruel reminder.

The third day, Hitch comes by. You’re still not back and he hates it. He’s had to throw the breakfast he made for you away twice, because he keeps forgetting you’re not here.

“Are we still on?”

“Yeah, Hitch. None of the other stuff, okay?”

“Sure. Marlowe should be at the games and parties, so just then.”

If he can’t be happy, someone should. He doesn’t mind it, holding Hitch’s hand here and there, slinging his arm around her shoulder to make Marlowe mad. To push the two of them together. He just wished it would do something to you, so you’d come running back to him too.

The second she leaves, all he can think about is your absence. It’s all he thinks about anyways. He hates that it’s true. That distance makes the heart fonder.

That’s all he wants to do. Just see you. He doesn’t care how you are - angry, pissed, detached from him. He just wants to see you, in your kitchen. He wants to hear you, singing in the shower, and watch you, sitting in the stands at his games.

He just wants you back. In whichever way you’ll have him.

He doesn’t sleep that third night either. Your peach smell is gone from his pillows already. He hates the passing of time.

You return, in the dead of night. He’s sure of it. He can hear you out there, your tiny footsteps clinking the dishes into the sink.

He nearly runs out the door, just to make sure you’re there. And you are, rinsing the dishes he left out. You’re back.

He fights the urge. To run up to you, press you against his chest, to pepper soft kisses all over your face.

“Y/N.”

“Hey Eren.”

God. Your voice. He didn’t realize that this was something he could miss - your voice, the stray hairs by your ears, the sound of your breathing. But here he is. Reveling at the sight of you. Doing the fucking dishes.

He walks up, pressing his hands against your frame and leaning his head against your shoulders. He can smell it - the peach smell. It makes his heart ache and he tries to will down the tears. He loves you, doesn’t he?

God. He can’t love you, can he?

“Am I imagining you or are you really here?”

“Really here, Eren.”

You’re back. He won’t let you leave again.

“I haven’t seen you in three days.”

“I went to see Porco and Pieck for the weekend.”

“It’s Tuesday. I was worried about you.”

“Sorry Eren.”

He can’t even do it. Be mad at you, tell you he was hurting the past few days. He can’t even remember it now, the feel of your skin against his hands was enough.

“It’s okay. You wake up Porco and Pieck with your morning concert while you were there?”

Your voice doesn’t fill the air, the sound of the plate in your hand crashing does. He immediately jerks up, your hands still dangerously close to the shards that were now swirling around in the water. Before he can pull your hands out, run his eyes over your fingers to make sure you weren’t hurt, you mutter three words that catch him off guard.

“Screw you, Eren.”

He can feel his breath stopping in his tracks. He’d never heard you like this, especially with him. Your voice was soft, sweet honey saccharine. Even when you were fast asleep, all tangled up in his sheets. So why were you angry?

“What?”

“I’m so sick of you making fun of me all the time. If something I do annoys you, you should just tell me, instead of making passive aggressive comments.”

Making fun of you? All the time? You couldn’t be serious. There’s no way you misunderstood that. He loves your singing - that you’re comfortable enough to scream in the shower when he’s a few feet away. That the music makes you happy enough to sing out loud, to dance in the kitchen, to share it with him. This couldn’t come out of nowhere. Because you have to know. You have to know that he loves it.

“Hey, what happened, peaches? You could never annoy me. I was just teasing you.”

He watches his words hit you, the air tightening in his chest at the sight of you pushing your hands against your eyes. No. No. He couldn’t have made you cry.

“You happened. I’m not something for you to laugh at Eren. I have feelings too, you know?”

He watches you move, slamming your door against the frame as you scurry into your room.

He doesn’t understand it. How you were tangled in his arms, breathing soft against his ears as he kissed you four days ago and now you can’t stand him. He hates it, that he knows how you feel, your touch. Maybe it would be easier if he hadn’t known it at all.

“We’re okay, right?”

The question comes three days later, one of the first times you and Eren had been alone in your apartment, since your argument. You kept inviting people over, so you could avoid this. That look, that question, talking about it.

You nod, wordlessly, sorting out the paperwork. It’s easier to focus on the papers than his eyes.

Eren had mentioned that the two of you needed to go into town tomorrow, to meet your landlord. Kenny Ackerman. He was apparently a touch eccentric, so he was preparing you for the meeting. You just had to officially sign onto the lease. But how do you tell Eren you’re not even sure you can live with him anymore?

“How have you been? Lately?”

You hate this. Be cool about it.

“Good, Eren. Just busy. How about you?”

“I’m good too. Soccer season and all that.”

You wish he was kind enough to be cruel about it. That he could either love you or hate you - nothing in between. You’d prefer that, him declaring he doesn’t care for you. It would be easier that way. But he stays the same - caring, thoughtful, warm.

“When’s your next game?”

“Today.”

“Got your good luck charm?”

“It broke actually.”

He opens the kitchen drawer, pulling out the key and the snapped chain. He hands the pieces to you, as you run your fingers along the chain.

“What are you going to do?”

“Not sure. Let’s hope I don’t break an arm or something.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve worn that necklace every game I’ve played since I was twelve. One time I forgot it and I broke my ankle.”

You laugh, twisting the key in your fingers, as you look at him.

“You can’t be serious, right? That’s just a coincidence.”

“It’s real.”

“Did it ever happen again, Eren?”

“No. Do you think I’d ever play a game without it? That’s like basically asking for it.”

You laugh, the two of you stuck in the middle of the kitchen. You hate this. That he can make you laugh, even after not talking for a week. That some part of him is always familiar to you, that you want to let him in.

“Do you still have the necklace I gave you?”

At the concert.

“Ah yeah.”

He digs his fingers underneath his shirt, pulling the silver chain out. You spin your finger, signaling for him to turn around. You quickly take the latch off and string the key through the chain before securing it back on. You tap his shoulder and he faces you again, watching you readjust and tuck the necklace back into his jersey.

“Thanks peaches. Saving my life here.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Sometimes you forget why you’re mad at him. Why you can’t do this. Hitch walks out of Eren’s room, right on cue, with green glitter spread across her face. Right. That’s why.

“Hey Rennie. Still can’t find it.”

“I’m not sure what I did with it, Hitch.”

“Have you seen it, Y/N?”

“Seen what?”

“His extra jersey. I wanted to wear it to the game today.”

Right. The jersey he gave you. To wear to all his games.

“I think it might have gotten mixed up with my laundry. I’ll go check my room.”

You retrieve the jersey from your room, your knuckles nearly white when you hand it over to Hitch to wear to the game. You make a mental note to fold and return the rest of Eren’s clothes you had and put them in his room. There’s no point in keeping them at this point. She gives you a smile, taking the jersey to go change into.

“You didn’t have to give it to her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I gave it to you for a reason.”

“I don’t mind. It makes sense anyways - girlfriends always wear jerseys to the games.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“I know.”

Girlfriend, fling, your roommate you kiss sometimes. It’s all the same thing. As much as you think you’ve given everything, that there’s nothing more that can hurt you, the universe proves you wrong.

You’re sure it’s all the same with her too - kissing scars, pretty dresses, soft kisses. It’s a bad omen, but you hope it hurts for her as much as it does for you, when it’ll end.

next part linked here

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rollinouttahere-writes · 7 months

Note

platonic yandere shanks and child reader

Better Left Unsaid

Yandere Shanks x GN Child Reader

3k words

“Don’t.”

With one leg still thrown over the side of the ship, you whip around and glare at Yassop. You dropped your head onto the railing and groaned, “Come on! I won’t even leave the docks, please!”

Yassop looked up from the gun that he was polishing, shooting you a weary look, “You know the rules, kid.”

“The rules are stupid!”

“Take that up with Shanks if you think so,” he replied in a bored tone.

You give out the most exasperated sigh and hop down from the railing with a huff. The boards creaked under the impact, more so after you began stomping across the deck. Both of you knew full well that talking to Shanks would get you nowhere. He’s the captain and your dad, he isn’t about to take orders from you.

Using more force than probably necessary, you open and slam the door to the captain’s quarters. It doubled as your bedroom, too. That was fine when you were little, but now you wanted your own space. Every time you tried to tell him this, you would just get waved off and told there was no room. It was either his room or bunking with all the other guys, so you begrudgingly accepted your fate of staying where you were. At least he put up a curtain to give you a little privacy.

After flopping onto your bed, you screamed into your pillow at the top of your lungs while kicking your feet on the bed. This was so unfair!

All you wanted was to leave the damn ship on a populated island. The only times you ever got to set foot on solid land was if they stopped at an uninhabited island, but that wasn’t enough for you anymore. You wanted to see people that weren’t your family, see sights that you don’t usually get to see, and pick out your own damn clothes for once! Was that really so much to ask for?!

Violently, you flipped onto your back and scowled at the ceiling, clutching your screamed-in pillow to your chest.

This was all so frustrating, but you didn’t know how to fix it. Talking to your dad was pointless, he never listened to you when you were complaining. The crew was just as bad, they treated you like a baby. But they were all you had. Shanks didn’t let you see, much less talk, to anyone else.

What you needed was leverage. You needed something that would give you enough of an upperhand to get him to listen to you. In essence, you needed blackmail, and you were in the perfect place to find some.

You grinned maliciously as you sprung out of your bed and marched over to his side of the room. Surely there had to be something in here that would give you some dirt on him! You aren’t sure what exactly you’re looking for, but you figure you’ll know it when you see it.

First was the bed. You lifted up the mattress to peek under and see if anything was hidden underneath. Nothing.

Next was the bedside table. You opened all of the drawers one by one. While you did find some stuff, it wasn’t anything useful. Some old maps, pens, notebooks with nothing interesting in them, a mostly empty booze bottle. Nothing scandalous enough to get a leg over on him.

There was a clothes dresser, too. At first you hesitated. No one wants to risk seeing their dad’s underwear, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Pulling open the first drawer, you found a bunch of shirts haphazardly shoved into it. None of them were folded, and it looks like he filled this thing up blindfolded and under intense pressure. No wonder his clothes are so wrinkled. It was a bit of a struggle to close when you were done rifling through it due to how jam-packed it was. Part of a shirt was sticking out after you finally slammed it shut, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. It’s not like you were going to make it look any worse.

The next drawer was similar to the first in terms of how messy it was, but this time with pants. It’s no longer a mystery as to why he perpetually looks like he just rolled out of bed. Whatever, his unfortunate state of fashion is of no real concern to you.

As you dug through the mess of pants, your fingers made contact with something solid. You froze briefly but quickly snapped out of it and grabbed whatever it was you touched. It took a bit of effort, but you freed the object from its tangled up prison. It was a small box. With a lock on it.

Perfect!

This had to be it! If he cared enough to lock it up, then there must be something top secret in here! Giddily, you scurried back to your bed with your findings, not even bothering to kick the dresser shut. You were going to be confronting him with this anyways, no need to be secretive about it.

The box was tossed onto your bed while you dug through your own bedside table, looking for your lockpicking kit. Shanks was about to regret teaching you how to do that.

You threw the kit next to the box and hopped on the bed. The lock was tiny and appeared to be uncomplicated, you’re betting you’ll have it open in under a minute. Grabbing your slimmest hook, you jammed it into the keyhole.

It unlocked instantly. Damn, you might have to make fun of your dad for using such a useless lock.

The lock was discarded and you opened the box. It was full of pieces of paper and photographs. Interesting. You pick up the first photo you see. It’s facing down, the back of it says ‘Uta - 2’. You flip it over, curious to see what that note on the back means.

It’s a picture of your dad when he was much younger, but that wasn’t what stuck out to you. What really caught your eye was the little girl he was holding. She was very young, and her hair was split down the middle with one side being white and the other red. Both of them were grinning from ear to ear. You can’t remember ever seeing your dad look that happy.

You look at the note again. ‘Uta - 2’. The girl looked to be about two years old, so that was probably her age. Was Uta her name? That made sense.

But who is she?

No one has ever mentioned someone named Uta being on board. As far as you were aware, you were the only child that’s ever been with them. Maybe this picture was taken before Shanks became a pirate? No, wait, it can’t be that either. He’s never not been a part of a pirate crew.

You need more information. Setting the picture aside, you start pulling more stuff out of the box. There’s some sheet music. The handwriting is somewhat neat, but also big and exaggerated with more loops than necessary and hearts dotting the i’s. Like it was written by a child. On the bottom, the name Uta was signed in large cursive letters.

Another photo is taken out, Shanks isn’t in it, but Uta and other members of his crew are. Uta is standing on a box like some sort of a makeshift stage, and appears to be singing if you had to guess. The others were clapping and cheering her on. This was definitely taken a while ago. Benn’s hair hadn’t even turned gray yet. The back of it said ‘Uta - 5’.

The next picture once again has Uta in it. She’s sitting next to a little boy with black hair and a scar under his eye.

Why does your dad have so many pictures of some girl you’ve never even heard of? This definitely feels like a secret, but you’re so confused about what you’re finding that you can’t bring yourself to feel like this is really a victory for you. You need to dig deeper.

Once again, you reach for another photo, one with three people in it this time. You instantly recognize Shanks and Uta, who you don’t know is the seemingly newborn baby in Shanks’ arms. His expression is nothing but soft and adoring, while Uta’s is a combination of curious but excited.

How many damn kids has your dad taken in and proceeded to just never mention ever?!

You flip over the picture to figure out who this one is supposed to be, but freeze up when you read it.

‘(Y/N) - Just got here!’

That’s… you? You and Uta were here at the same time, but you’re just now finding out about her? What the hell is going on?

Frantically, you unceremoniously dump out the rest of the contents of the box. You’re desperate to find answers, anything that could explain why your dad has this top secret box dedicated to whoever this Uta girl is.

A picture that stands out to you is one of Uta helping the baby- you- stand. You’re a little older here, roughly a year old it would seem. A quick glance at the back confirms your guess as correct, and that Uta is seven. She’s six years older than you. Since you no longer have the squished face of a baby just welcomed into the world, your features are actually recognizable. This is definitely you and not just some other kid named (Y/N).

The mystery unraveling in front of you is so engrossing that you’re deaf to the world around you. That is, until the door to the room is thrown open. Your heart leaps into your throat. Oh shit! Why is he back so soon?! You scramble to quickly but quietly pile your findings back into their box.

“(Y/N), I got you something in-” Shanks voice falls flat and stops abruptly in the middle of the sentence. No, no, no! How does he know something is wrong already?!

You didn’t close the dresser.

Before you can even begin to think of what to do next, Shanks drops whatever he was holding and closes the distance between you two and rips the curtain to the side. All you can do is shrink in on yourself and gawk at his furious expression.

The second his eyes land on the box in your hands, he snatches it into his own. He stomps away and slams it onto the dresser while hastily rifling through it. He hasn’t said a damn thing to you since the realization of what you did.

Damage control, you need to do damage control, and fast. You move to stand, and utter out a quiet, “Dad?”

“Sit. Down,” his tone was sharp and left zero room for argument. He’s never spoken to you so coldly, even during your worst arguments.

All you wanted was to have a chance to explore the town, and now look where that has gotten you. This was a stupid mistake. Shanks and his crew were all you had, and now you’ve made a huge problem of yourself. What would happen to you if he decided you weren’t worth the hassle anymore?

You couldn’t help it. Between all the previous confusion mixed with his harsh treatment broke the dam and tears started to pour down your face. You sniffle loudly while furiously wiping at your face, and force out, “I-I’m sorry.”

With your head being in your hands, and your eyes clouded with tears, you have no hope of being able to gauge his reaction. Or see if he even cares enough to pay you any mind. Probably not, not when he’s this mad at you.

Your bed dips from the weight of Shanks sitting down next to you. Without hesitation, you latch onto him, burying your face in his coat while sobbing out apologies. Anything to make him stop being so upset with you. Much to your relief, his arm came around your back and held you to him.

“It’s… fine. I wish you wouldn’t have done that, but it’s nothing to cry about,” his voice was strained, but held the warmth that had been previously absent.

Even with that, you needed time to calm down. While your dad being annoyed with your attitude was hardly a new occurrence, him being genuinely upset was. Frankly, you didn’t know how to deal with this, and you were still terrified about how much damage your actions just did.

Shanks didn’t say anything else, instead choosing to sit in silence with you. You couldn’t decide if that made things better or worse. Actually, you could decide. The lack of words was absolutely worse, but you didn’t know what to say right now either.

“Yassop told me you tried to sneak off the ship. Again.”

Nevermind. You wish to go back to silence. All you did in response was bury your face deeper into his coat while mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ for your actions. You were going to dump out that snitch’s booze stash later.

His chest heaved with the sigh he let out, and his hand came up to pat your head, “I know that you don’t like this, I understand that, but sometimes you have to do things you don’t like.” There was a pause, but when you didn’t respond, he continued, “It’s for your own good. The world is a dangerous place.”

“But… But you’re an emperor. You’re the Red Haired Shanks. What’s the worst that could happen if we just go for a walk in town?” As far as you’re concerned, there’s no threat that your dad can’t handle, not to mention the rest of his crew. Even if someone is stupid enough to try something, they’ll deal with it.

He chuckled, but it was humorless, empty, “Just because I’m an emperor doesn’t mean that bad things won’t still happen. That bad things haven’t already happened.”

“Where is Uta?”

Bringing her up was risky, you knew that, but you need answers. You need to get to the bottom of why Shanks is like this, and this is the closest you feel that you’ve ever come to finding out.

Shanks became rigid at the mention of her name. The hand on your head was now squeezing, bordering on painful from how tight it was. You tried to wiggle away but couldn’t break his hold.

“She’s gone.”

“She died?!” While you didn’t know what to expect, it certainly wasn’t that.

“No!” Shanks' hand dropped down onto your shoulder and wrenched you away from him. His eyes were wide and wild, “She’s not dead!”

You visibly recoiled from him, you can’t remember a time you’ve ever heard him yell. Once again, you can feel your eyes start to water and your lip tremble. God, what you wouldn’t give for this whole interaction to just be over already. Or for it to have simply never happened in the first place.

His face fell, and he looked away from you with a grimace. Mercifully, his grip had relaxed a bit and no longer felt like a vice on you. “Uta is alive and well, she just isn’t here. Not anymore.”

“Why not? Where is she?” You had more questions with every answer he gave, this wasn’t making any sense. What could have happened to result in her not being here? He wouldn’t just… abandon her. Would he?

“Because I wasn’t able to protect her,” his voice was so quiet that if you were any further away from him you wouldn’t have heard him. “She needed to be left in someone else’s care for her own good. I wasn’t able to keep her safe, and that’s something that I will never let happen again. Not with you.”

“But what happened? I don’t understand,” you felt like you were simultaneously getting closer and also further from the truth. Nothing about this was making sense. There was a bigger story here, but he was seemingly hellbent on keeping his answers to you vague.

“You don’t need to understand, you’re just a child. Do both of us a favor and forget about what you saw and what’s been said,” Shanks got to his feet, moving to leave not only the conversation, but also the room entirely.

You launched yourself off the bed and grabbed onto his arm, “Wait! You can’t just tell me to forget about this! I want answers!” You weren’t about to let him get out of this discussion so easily.

“Well, (Y/N), sometimes you don’t always get what you want. We’re done talking about this,” the way he spoke to you was slightly condescending. He turned to face you and crouched down to be at eye level, “How about you take a nap? Seems like you need one.”

You were getting on his nerves, that was a given, but you couldn’t up and let this go. Scoffing, you crossed your arms and glared at him, “I don’t need a nap, I’m not a baby.”

Shanks smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, “Could’ve fooled me with the way you’re acting today.”

As much as you wanted to yell and be mad about what he just said, your mind went blank. You felt dizzy and like you couldn’t remember how to control your body. A second later, you stumbled and crashed into Shanks who caught you with ease.

Haki. He used Haki on you.

Distantly, you registered being lifted off the ground. Your head was pounding and felt like it was packed with cotton to the point of bursting. A few steps later, you were dropped on a bed. You’re so out of it that you can’t even tell if it’s yours or his.

An attempt was made to say something, anything, but your tongue refused to cooperate. All you could do was stare up at the blurring form of Shanks helplessly, wondering why he would go to such an extreme over you asking a few questions.

The last thing you remember is a blanket being pulled over you before everything fades to black as you’re forcibly thrown into a restless sleep.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #yandere one piece #platonic yandere #shanks #red haired shanks #yassop #yanderefangirl

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 5 months

Text

For Your Own Good

Another fanfic written at night on my phone because I didn't want to sleep away the idea. Enjoy the products of my insomnia. Remember to comment and reblog, they are so so important!

Contains: D/s dynamics, kink negotiation, safe, sane and consensual, Dom Simon, sub reader, spanking, praise kink, fingering, P in V, fluff, aftercare.

1.6K words

In trying to avoid worrying Simon, you break a rule and he has to deal with it.

"You need anything, Love?"

Simon always texted you before he left work to see if he needed to pick anything up from the store. Your aching, sprained ankle said yes but you knew him, if you told him about it, he make a detour to the big pharmacy in the other direction of your house and return home with half of it. Sure, the first aid kit was stocked, but Simon would insist on picking up better pain meds and fresh wrap.

"No, honey, I'm good."

You reasoned your reply wasn't a lie, you'd be fine with some rest and ice, and it wasn't that bad, but part of you was worried that you should have said something.

When the door swung open, the ice pack was still on your elevated leg, and he took one look at you and sighed. "What happened?"

He was already at your side, kneeling by you so he could lift the ice pack up to look at the bruising. "Misstep into a hole in the grass, I didn't see it."

He was gentle as he assessed the damage, pressing and moving and touching until he had made up his mind. "Does it hurt?"

If you had said yes, he would have worried, so you lied, and your no was met with a less than gentle squeeze. "Bullshit."

He marched into the laundry and returned with the first aid kit in a huff. "You wanna tell me why you didn't ask me to stop by the store and get you stuff to fix this?"

That tone wasn't good, it was time for damage control. "It's nothing a little ice and time won't help. I didn't want to inconvenience you."

The look he gave you told you the battle was lost. "We have been over this four times y/n, it's my job to look after you." A finger pointed at your necklace drove it home. "That means none of your needs are an inconvenience."

He took a deep breath and placed the ice back over your ankle. "I'm going to get some better supplies and pick up some better meds so you're not tossing and turning all night when that really starts to hurt. After that, well, talk about how we're going to handle this problem of yours once you're all fixed up."

He pressed his lips to your forehead and held your face in his hands. "I'll be back soon, alright? If it really starts to hurt, you better call me."

You nodded. "I will. I love you."

He smiled softly and grabbed your hand for a moment. "I love you too."

*****

He was back home within the hour and back at your side the second he was in the door. "How is it?"

"It's…" You weren't going to get away with telling him it was fine and you would only make it worse for yourself if you did. "It's hurting a bit."

He was gentle as the first fall of rain in spring as he wiped the damp away from the melting ice pack and wrapped your ankle, his focus so tight that you were sure nothing would pull him away. When he was done, he held his hand out for you to stand up, watching carefully for a sign that you were hiding that it still hurt. "Better?"

You nodded. "Much, thank you."

He picked up the TV remote and took you into his arms as you sat down to watch the afternoon news, and you leaned into his embrace as he started to speak. "You know I'm going to have to punish you for what happened."

You sighed. "I know. I broke rule."

He pressed his lips to your temple as his thumb moved back and forth on your thigh. "That you did, love. I'm not mad, I don't think I could ever get angry at you, I just don't know how to get you to understand that looking after you isn't a bother to me."

You took a deep breath. "I know, but I'm not the only stubborn one in that regard, Simon."

He exhaled sharply. "Don't push your luck, love, that's why we have the rule that we have to speak up when something's wrong so the other person can help. Once your ankle is healed, we'll talk about your punishment, and I don't want this to happen again."

You nodded. "It won't."

****

The wait was two weeks, one for your ankle to heal and the other for Simon to feel like he wasn't going to hurt it again. It was a formal affair; he had cooked dinner and insisted you ate plenty, then treated you to a nice dessert. Then came the negotiation, sitting opposite each other at the table as you went over what was about to happen, Simon trying to reassure you that you could always say no and he'd think of something different.

Once you were both happy, he led you to the bedroom with a hand on your lower back before sitting on the end of the bed with his leg splayed. He watched as you undressed, removing each piece of clothing and placing them down neatly folded so you could redress once the night was over, leaving you in nothing by the necklace of one of his dog tags that signified your collar.

He lifted his hands from where they were rested on his thigh so you could lay, bent over in his lap, and one of his hands ran up and down your back while the other made its way to your backside. "Are you ready, love?"

He didn't want you to count, this was far more about dealing with a rule being broken than anything else. "Yes, I am."

The hand on your ass pressed a little firmer before his gruff voice filled the room. "Ok then." Each hit was the same: heavy, even pressure, he handed two solid smacks, then moved to the next cheek. You knew he was halfway done when he paused to rub your skin. When the hit started again, he bent slightly, reaching down to grab your hand and lift it onto the bed so he could hold it as his other hand reached its full intensity.

It was over when the first tear fell, betrayed by a heaving breath and a stutter. His hand had stilled, resting on your skin to calm the blood rushing to your flesh before moving to the other cheek and doing the same. You could feel his erection pressing into your leg and his hand slowly sliding from your backside to your core, letting you know the rest of the night was ready to start.

"I'm so proud of you, love, you took that so well." He chuckled when he found you slick, his chest rumbling with affection as his fingers slid through your slit. "My good girl, I think you deserve a thank you for how well you did."

Your legs twitched as he made contact with your clit, and you sighed as he started to work in small, focused circles. "Thank you."

He smiled and slid two of his thick fingers inside you as his thumb replaced his fingertips on your clit. "You don't need to thank me, love, I'm enjoying myself." You believed him, considering that each time you shifted on his lap and brushed his cock his breath hitched.

He focused on your G-spot, his calloused fingers drawing pleasure from your body with practised ease. It didn't take long for you to reach the edge, and your request for permission was cut off by Simon with his steady pace and deep voice. "You don't need to ask, lovely, just let go for me."

He worked you through it, waiting until you were trying to shift away from him before removing his fingers. You heard sucking sounds and twitched your head to see him with his fingers in his mouth. He shot you a charming smile and moaned. "Like candy."

He brought you up onto his lap, being mindful of your heated skin. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, and he moaned into your mouth as you reached down to palm his cock through his sweatpants. You stroked him a few times before shoving his pants down just far enough to pull him out and nipped his lower lips as you held him so you could slide down steadily until you were fully seated and his jaw was clenching with restraint.

You started to rock in unison, and there was an unordered jumble of limbs to get him as naked as you. He pulled you into his chest, and you relaxed in his arms as he took over the pace and poured sweet nothings into your ear as he angled his hips to brush your G-spot with each stroke. One of his massive hands left your back to run your clit, and his teeth touched your neck as he once again worked you towards orgasm.

"Come on, Lovely, on last one for me." He swallowed your moans as you came and then followed behind you with a feral grunt and his teeth in your shoulder. He let you catch your breath, one hand rubbing up and down your back while the other stroked your cheek and once he was satisfied, the world shifted as he moved you both so you were lying on your sides.

He pulled you into his arms and spoke softly against your forehead. "You did so well for me." You muttered, and he chucked warmly. "You rest, I'll clean you up in a little bit. You need anything from me?"

You shook your head. "No. I love you."

He pulled you in closer, half revelling in holding you half because the cold was starting to seep in. "I love you too y/n."

Fin

@chaos-4baby @candy616

#simon riley/you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley/reader #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #call of duty smut

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janesociety · 1 year

Note

can you please do a james potter x reader where reader is always patching james up from quidditch injuries and comforting him in the hospital wing and stuff but roles are reversed when he's trying to teach you quidditch and reader gets a minor injury (sprained ankle or something). cue overprotective jamie & platonic marauders fluff<3

oh! darling

james potter x reader

type: fluff

word count: 2.4k

summary: after years of you taking care of james, it was finally his turn.

warnings: reader has sprained ankle, references to slightly worse injuries

notes: i am so incredibly sorry this took so long i don’t even have an excuse

marauders masterlist

✩ ✩ ✩

You were never all that big a fan of flying. Being on a broom just never felt sturdy to you and you weren’t all that crazy about heights either. It wasn’t exactly that you were afraid per say, you just chose to avoid them when possible.

With a boyfriend like James Potter, you knew it would one day no longer be avoidable.

James, while on one hand being the most responsible, smart, and caring person you knew, was also the clumsiest.

You lost count on the number of times you’d had to walk him from the Quidditch Pitch to the infirmary for an injury. Sometimes he sustained them at a practice, a game- hell, sometimes he would just be flying around for fun and manage to throw himself from his broom. It became such a common occurrence, you now had your own little pharmacy under the sink in your dorm so you could fix some of his minor injuries up there. Then of course there were his more major injuries- like the time he broke his foot when it was smashed between the stadium wall and a bludger or when he got a concussion when he and Sirius slammed into each other when messing around. During those times, you’d sit with him in the hospital wing and keep him company. You were always sure to spend your free periods with him, catch him up on school work, bring him food- anything he needed.

To be honest, as much as you hated him getting hurt, you treasured some of those moments in the hospital wing when it was just the two of you being together.

When you woke up on that Saturday morning to James no longer next to you in his bed, you were confused. You’d both agreed the day before that neither of you wanted to go to Hogsmeade that weekend and you knew James didn’t have any Quidditch practice. You rolled out of his bed, finding one of his sweaters in his trunk and throwing it on. You made your way to the mostly empty common room- most people were already at breakfast so they could eat before leaving for Hogsmeade- and found Lily buried in her books at a corner table.

“Hey, Lils,” you said, sliding into a seat across from her.

“Hey,” she said, her eyes not looking up from the page of the herbology textbook she was reading. You leaned awkwardly back in your seat, not exactly wanting to disturb her, but not knowing what to do with yourself when you didn’t know where any of your other friends were and you were feeling just a bit too lazy to look.

“Sorry,” she said, finally looking up at you and sitting back. “I haven’t had time to study recently- I’m hoping to catch up today while everyone’s at Hogsmeade.”

“No- no, you’re fine, I can leave if you want,” you said quickly. “Have you seen James?”

“Him and Sirius walked out of here an hour ago looking for Marlene and Dorcas and I haven’t seen them sense,” she said, rolling her eyes. “They seemed overly excited, per usual. I think they were up to something.”

“God, maybe I don’t want to look for him anymore,” you said, laughing through a yawn.

Your wish was granted- not exactly in the way you wanted- as the porthole swung open as James and Sirius marched in with their hands full. It took you a minute to see what they were holding- Sirius was holding a large box that you quickly recognized as a chest that held all the different Quidditch balls and James was holding three brooms. Three.

“Oh, darling, you’re up,” he said, gently setting down the brooms next to you and kissing your head. “We were gonna come up and get you.” He wrapped his arms around your neck from behind you and rested his head on your shoulder. You made weary eye contact with Lily at the sight of the brooms. You hummed.

“What’re the brooms for?” you asked, recognizing only one of them as his. He chuckled in your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

“Quidditch, darling, what else?” he said, pecking your cheek after. He was always affectionate, but you could tell he was getting ready to question you about something.

“Oh,” you said, turning your head to see Sirius running up the stairs to the dorm.

“Me and Pads were thinking-“ well that’s never good- “that maybe you would come out to the pitch with us today and fly around a bit?” Your eyes went wide.

“James, I- you know I hate flying,” you said, turning to look at him. He loosened his arms to allow you to move.

“I know! I know, but I was thinking if me and Pads were there to help you out, you might feel better,” he said, massaging your shoulder. “I thought it could be fun.” You looked to Lily for help but she gave you a good luck look and quickly buried herself back into her books. “Please, love?”

“Fine.”

“Come on, darling!” James yelled from above you. “You’re gonna do great!” You resisted the urge to flip him off at his well-meaning encouragement.

You’d flown before, of course- it was a class after all. So you knew what you were doing, you just didn’t want to be doing it.

“Oh, the things I do for you,” you muttered under your breath as you began levitating off the ground. It took you a moment to get used to the sensation before you floated up to the level James and Sirius were at. Your hands were gripping the broom so hard your knuckles were white. It was less of you being scared of the broom and more not trusting yourself to be able to adequately operate it.

“You’re doing great,” James said, flying up next to you with a quaffle tucked under his arm. He reached out his free hand to take yours but you shook your head.

“I’m sorry, but no,” you said, cracking a smile and staring at his hand. He chuckled, reaching over and patting your shoulder- the act making you squeak at the feeling of being slightly unbalanced.

“Sorry!” he said quickly, laughing at how the blood had rushed to your face. “You’re alright, darling, you’re not gonna fall.” You let out a huff. “I won’t let you fall, how about that?” You smiled at him. “Alright, c’mon.” He motioned for you to follow him and you did, heading over to where Sirius was flying in circles.

“Finally!” he groaned, stopping as you two approached. “I don’t know why you’re so worried, Y/N. You were good at it in first year when we had to take the class.”

“I never liked it,” you said, pointing and flexing your feet to get used to the feeling of them not touching the ground. “But I can do it.”

“Okay, okay, finally ready to play?” Sirius asked, motioning for James to throw him the quaffle.

They explained the game. It was basically modified Quidditch so that it could be played with one ball and three people. It was decided that you would be goalkeeper first- which you were grateful for. The rules were James and Sirius were both trying to score on you, but when they intercepted the ball, they had to go back to the center. James used a charm to create foggy lines of smoke in the air where the centerline was because “Sirius is a big cheater so we need to be able to see.”

It was fun, actually. You surprised yourself with how quickly you picked up the skills you’d thought you’d forgotten. You were able to hold your own in the goal, blocking almost all their shots- even after they stopped going easy on you.

“You’re letting him win!” Sirius groaned after James scored for the third time. “This isn’t fair! You’re biased.” You rolled your eyes.

“You should know me well enough to know I’d help James lose before I’d help him win,” you said.

“Hey! I can hear you!” James yelled from farther back, tossing the ball to Sirius.

“Yeah, yeah, just get going,” you said, flying lazily around one of the goal posts. You were still moving pretty slow, the fear of falling still not totally dissipating, but you could keep up with them so far.

The games soon started again, Sirius being extra as ever and doing small spins around the stadium as James tried to chase him around. When Sirius took a shot, James raced in before you could catch it and dashed back to the centerline.

“Show off,” you muttered sarcastically as he whipped past you and sent you a goofy grin. You couldn’t help but smile at him.

You got somewhat bored when their back and forth went on just a little too long, and found yourself staring mindlessly around you. The wind was whipping your hair around your head and you were somewhat dreading what it would look like when you-

“Y/N!”

You didn’t have time to react before something hard collided with your head. You were exactly sure what was happening, but you felt everything spin and the wind picked up. You couldn’t figure out if you were dizzy or falling. When you felt your broom slip out from under you, you decided it was probably both. The simple realization you were falling from so high was enough to make your stomach start doing somersaults faster than the rest of your body was.

James immediately went into a nose dive the second he saw you slip. He was already dashing over to you before you fell- seeing the path of the ball that had left his hands seconds before. Sirius was behind him, shouting an incantation you couldn’t hear between the blood rushing to your ears and the air passing you. You slowed suddenly, the spell Sirius had cast finally taking effect, but not soon enough.

You crumpled to the ground, letting out a gasp.

“Y/N!” James yelled, stumbling off his broom and rushing towards you. “Y/N, hey, hey,” he said, brushing your hair out of your face. Your eyes were squeezed shut and your face was pinched with pain as you gripped your ankle.

“I’m- I’m alright,” you said, shakily, your eyes still closed. You tried to move but let out a pained gasp when you moved your leg.

“Oh, Y/N,” he said, cupping your face. You opened your eyes to see the fear and worry contorting his face as he looked at you. Seeing him fuss over you almost felt worse than your foot. “Don’t move,” he said, carefully tucking his arms under you and pulling you up so he could carry you. You tried not to grimace as your ankle flopped around from the jerkiness of the lift.

“I’m fine, James,” you said, the grip you had on his shoulder betraying your words.

“Just hold still, yeah?” he said, his worry for you evident on the crease between his brows. “I’ll get you up to the infirmary.”

Sirius was quick to run after the two of you, holding all three brooms under his arm.

“Alright, Y/N?” he asked as he walked in step with James.

“Yep,” you said, grimacing as James bounced you around a little too hard.

“Sorry- sorry,” he said, doing his best to hold you as still as possible as he started walking up the hill towards the castle. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, James, it’s not your fault,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder.

There was silence

“So, you reckon I’ll get an offer from Puddlemore next year?”

Sirius snorted.

“Oh, definitely, but they’ll be fighting offers from the Cannons and Harpies, too,” Sirius said. “But Puddlemore will give you the best offer, so you should play for them.”

“Maybe I'll just go wherever James gets an offer for,” you said as you all stepped inside the castle.

“Poor lad won’t get nearly as many as you,” Sirius said, shaking his head.

James chuckled hesitantly as you arrived at the infirmary, clearly trying to avoid the guilt gnawing at his stomach.

Madam Pomfrey was quick to usher you to a bed with a quick “Why is it always you lot?” and a wave of her wand.

James sat you down and was quick to grab your hand as you adjusted yourself on the bed. He sat on the edge of the hard wooden chair next to your bed. His hands cupped yours as his eyes glared daggers into your ankle.

“I should… I'll go put the brooms away,” Sirius said awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. You nodded and he was out of there in the next moment.

“Jamie,” you said. He wasn’t looking at you. “James,” you said again, squeezing his hand. His eyes finally met yours, and you couldn’t find the words to describe the look of hurt on his face. “I’m alright.”

“I know,” he said shakily, a breathy chuckle coming from his mouth. “I know.”

“And it’s not your fault,” you said. He looks away from you again.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, the pain clear on his face even as he faced away from you. If there’s one thing that hurts James Potter more than seeing his loved ones in pain, it’s being the one that caused the pain.

“If I accept your apology will you stop moping?”

James laughed, his head ducking down and eyes crinkling at the sides. He brought your hand up to his lips, resting them on your knuckles before peppering kisses all over your hand.

“I truly don’t deserve you,” he said, smiling softly at you.

“Don’t go all soft on me now just because I’m injured,” you groaned as he moved to peck your cheek a few times.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Madam Pomfrey huffed, dropping a basket of potions at the foot of your bed. James quickly pulled away from you, the two of you blushing fiercely. “Should be an easy fix,” she said, suddenly back to her normal motherly persona. “Should be able to get you back on your feet in no time.”

“See, James, all alright,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand.

#james potter #james potter x you #james potter fanfiction #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter hurt/comfort #sirius black x reader #sirius black x platonic!reader #the marauders #marauders fic #marauders era #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders masterlist #janie writes ‧₊˚✩彡

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