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sarawritestories · 7 months

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Unwavering Presence Chapter 6

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Feyre is in the Night Court and Y/N is trying to overcome the lingering guilt she feels as Cassian leaves for a week. Tensions between the Archeron twins comes to a boiling point where Feyre decides that she wants to take part in the court and meet the inner Circle.

Content warnings: Past trauma ,sibling arguments,

A/N: I am blown away by the love you guys have shown this series and I appreciate every comment, like and reblog. It seriously means more than you know! I have so much planned and plotted out for this I hope you guys are ready!

I made a playlist for this series if you're interested in listening while reading these are just songs that help me write/reminds me of Cassian and Reader

Masterlist Chapter 5

I woke up and I was the only one in the chair with a blanket wrapped snugly around me. I turned to see Rhys resting his hand on his head, his eyes closed. I sat up and stretched and when I looked over to the bed I gasped as eyes like my own stared back at me. “Feyre.” I whispered.

Rhys stirred and looked over to us, “Good Morning,” Feyre was about to talk but began coughing and Rhys was quick to produce a glass of water in his hand and pass it to Feyre, “Drink. You’ve been out for a few days.” She nodded to him in thanks and took a long drink from the glass.

She looked over at me and pursed her lips, “You’re alive.” I nodded words lost to me. “How long have you been here?”

I wrung my hands together nervously, ‘Since Tamlin forced me out.” I said through gritted teeth.

Feyre nodded her head as if digesting how long I’ve been here. “You abandoned me.” She whispered and it felt as if my heart shattered. “You just left me alone. Tamlin told me you died!”

I crossed my arms and leaned back into the armchair. “Right because he had been a picture of pleasantries and kindness to me since that day, he fucking took us away.”

Fury shone in my sister’s eyes, “Yet you could have come back, you could have found me. Instead, you left me alone, didn’t even try to let me know you were okay to see if I was okay!” I flinched guilt swirling in my gut.

“You make it sound like I did it on purpose.” I whispered, “Like I wasn’t attacked in the woods compliments of your priestess pal who left me to die.” Feyre’s eyes widened as I rose from my chair. “Tamlin sent a very clear message of his disdain for me.” I walked to the door ignoring Rhys’ attempt to speak to me in my mind. I opened the door and looked back at her; tears were streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, I failed you a second time, Feyre.” Out of the corner of my eyes I saw sadness flash in Rhys’ face, and I shut the door and walked away.

My feet led me to the dining hall my ears ringing, I didn’t even register where I was until a familiar voice called to me, “Y/N?” I looked up to see Cassian walking in from the balcony, he was wearing his leathers, his siphons gleaming on display.

I swallowed the tightness in my throat, and tried to give him a smile, “Going somewhere?”

Cassian’s brows furrowed concern laced on his features, but he nodded, “I need to go out to the Illyrian camps and make sure my soldiers are up to my standards.”

“And you were going to leave without saying goodbye, Old Man?”

Cassian’s wings twitched as his eyes widened. “Old man?”

I jokingly pressed a palm to my forehead, “Oh I’m sorry, I meant Old Male? Better?”

The General crossed his arms looking at the floor and muttered, “I’d prefer it if Old was dropped all together,” He looked back at me his features softening at me as I grinned back at him. “Do you think I’m old?”

“Cassian, you’re over 500 years old. By human standards you’re ancient. Though I think you’ve just begun your life in terms of the fae so no I don’t think you’re old. However, I will be calling you old just to get under your skin.”

He rolled his eyes, and they go vacant briefly when he comes back to, he walked up to me and wrapped his arms around me. He held me tightly and pressed his hand to the back of my head pressing my cheek against his chest, leather, and sandalwood grounding me, “It’s not your fault, Princess.” He pulls away and cups cheeks.

Avoiding his comment I whispered, “I’ll miss you,” I wrapped my hands around his rubbing small circles with my thumbs.

Cassian pulls my face closer to our breaths intermingling, “I’ll be home as soon as soon as I can,” He pressed his warm soft lips on my forehead and my eyes fluttered shut. Too quickly he pulled away and lowered our hands from my face. I laced my fingers with his and we walked out to the balcony. Cassian flared his wings, the sun highlighting the dark red hues and membrane on his wings. He turned to me and gave me a playful wink “Safe travels, General, wouldn’t want you to hurt your brittle old bones.” He laughed, flicked my nose, and launched into the air.

I leaned on the balcony railing watching him take to the skies in awe and tilted my head when he paused and turned to me, I gave him a smile, knowing he probably couldn’t see me and waved at him. He lifted his hand in response and turned and headed out, I stayed out there until he was out of my line of sight and headed into the dining room. Only to be met with a second pair of Hazel eyes. “So, Cassian’s pretty cute,” He joked throwing the line I said to him a few nights before.

Heat flared in my cheeks, “Busy body.”

Azriel just pointed his thumbs at himself, “Spymaster.”

“So, a professional busybody.” Az laughed clutching his stomach. “I liked it better when you were quiet, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel nudged me with his shoulder, “No you don’t.”

I pat the top of his head and the shadowsinger grumbled, “You’re right, I don’t.” I looked to the doors as if I could see Feyre all the way from here. “Where are you off to?” I asked and Azriel’s face showed no indication of his feelings, but his eyes held a glimpse of sadness there.

His shadows danced around his neck and a few strayed from him and swirled and weaved around my legs. The cool kiss of their touch a great reprieve to my heated skin. “I have the day off I was going to go into the city for a bit to have lunch with Mor. I’d figured I’d see if you want to train?”

“Yes, please, I can’t go back into that room. Not yet anyway.”

Azriel nods his head to the door, “Go get changed we’ll work on wielding weapons.” I smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek and ran to my room to change into my leathers. I braided my hair into a crown and walked to my door. Opening it I was shocked to see Rhys on the other side arm raised to knock. I’m pretty sure Rhys expression matched my own as he lowered his hand tucking it in his pocket. “You, okay?”

I leaned against the door frame, “Truthfully?” He nodded, “No, I’m not. She thinks I ran away and abandoned her. Thanks to Tamlin and Ianthe and their pretty little lies.” I swallowed the tears, “The way she looked at me, Rhys. It hurt.” Rhys sighed and I could see the exhaustion in his features and taking over his body. “When was the last time you slept?”

He waved me off, “Don’t deflect.”

I crossed my arms, “I’m not deflecting. I answered your question, and I am asking a simple question in regards to the wellbeing of my friend.”

Light sparked into his violet eyes, “We’re friends?”

“Now who’s deflecting?” I cup my hand on his cheek, “You need to sleep, Rhys. She’ll be fine, give her some time alone to process everything.”

Rhys placed his hand on top of mine, “You’re a good sister you know that right?”

“There have been many moments where Feyre would disagree with you.” My mind trailed off to Under the Mountain.

I twisted the goblet in my hand, another night another party that Feyre and I are the full spectacle of in matching outfits. If you could call the see through material that barely covered my breast and my ass an outfit. Feyre had swirls that matched her tattoo throughout her whole body and the same markings swirled on my skin. I remained close to my sister when Tamlin approached Feyre. I averted my gaze to give them privacy.

My eyes scanned across the room looking out for Rhysand and before I could look back to my sister and Tamlin was walking away from her. Feyre whispered in my ear, “Cover for me, Tamlin wants to meet with me for a moment.”

Relief washed over my chest, “Is he going to get you out?” I whispered so low it in her ear. “Feyre, he has to get you out.” I had her face me so she could understand.

Feyre rolled her eyes, “I’ll be fine.” And before I had the opportunity to argue further, she left. I scowled quietly as I watched her walk away and saw the High Lord of the Spring trail after her.

I glared at the door they went behind, hoping that I could him to get her out. A hand fell on the small of my back causing me to jump and Rhys’ voice was against my ear, “Just me.” He removed his hand, and he looked over to where Feyre and Tamlin ran off to and his jaw tightened. The only indication on his calm demeanor that told me he was upset. “Where is Feyre, Y/N?”

I quirked my brow, “I think we both know, you know exactly where she is, High Lord.” There was a pause, and for whatever reason I asked in a hushed tone, “He isn’t going to get her out, is he?”

“No, he isn’t.” Dread took over. I looked down at the goblet contemplating drinking the fae wine and forget my inhibitions, fueled by the anger and disappointment of not only the blonde haired green eyed high lord and my foolish love-sick sister. “You’ve been avoiding it this long, don’t start because you’re angry. That could lead you down a dark rabbit hole.” He grabs the goblet from my hand and drinks the contents, “Stay close to Lucien.” He hands me the empty cup.

“Where are you going?”

Rhys voice floats in my mind, “To fix this.”

Rhys squeezed my hand bringing me back, “That wasn’t your fault either.” I curse under my breath and rebuild my shields. “Tamlin has made a mess of things time and again. It’s going to catch up with him in the end.”

I nod lowering my hand that he is still gripping, “I should go Azriel is waiting for me to start training.” Rhys nods and moves out of the way, releasing my hand. “Go to sleep, High Lord. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to need with your Feyre Darling.” I heard his chuckle as I left to go find Azriel.

Azriel was in the training ring on the roof his arms crossed, “You’re late.”

I lowered my gaze, “Sorry, I ran into Rhysand.” I met his piercing gaze, “Don’t suppose you’ll go easy on me for it.”

Amusement graced his features, and his lips quirked upward, “Not a chance. Pushups, now.” I groaned, “Keep it up Archeron, and I’m going to double how many you must do. Give me thirty.” The morning sun caused sweat to drip down my brow on the first ten pushups. My arms were already shaking by the twentieth pushup, “I am going to have to kick Cassian’s ass for his lack of core training with you.” I was able to finish the pushups and slowly stood up my arms and legs shaking.

Azriel made his way over to weapons, “You have a preference on weapon?”

I shrugged, “I only had access to a dagger, I don’t know anything else.” I followed him, and looked at the table, there were a few daggers, two longswords and a bow and arrow. The weapon reminded me of Feyre, “I have no interest in archery.” I murmured biting the inside of my cheek as a fresh wave of guilt that washed over me.

Azriel didn’t look over at me and simply said, “Noted.” He grabbed the dagger and handed it to me. “Show me what you can do with this.”

I walked over to the center of the training ring dummy that was on the other side and grabbed the tip of the dagger took in a deep breath as I raised my arm and, on the exhale, threw the dagger as it hit right in the chest of the dummy. I turned to Azriel’s face was unreadable, “What?”

Azriel shook his head, “Just not what I was expecting, you did this when you hunted in the human lands? You ever worried about missing?”

I gave him a wink, “I never miss, Shadowsinger.”

He grabbed a dagger from his belt, not as ornate as his other one that he always kept within his reach “Prove it.” So, we spent the rest of the hour throwing the daggers splinters from the wooden dummy everywhere. “I’m impressed, you have quite the arm Y/N. Who taught you how to throw?”

“I taught myself.” Azriel quirked a brow, “My dad was attacked by some creditors. Nesta and Elain remained hidden in our room, Feyre was begging them to stop. After they shattered his leg, I knew I needed to take action. I took a knife one of the few things we were able to keep, and I threw it and one of them collapsed to the floor. I didn’t even understand that I had killed him. Until the other guys looked at me with pure horror on their faces. They fled right after that. But the damage was done my father’s leg was destroyed and 4 sisters carried out a dead body to the forest to be eaten by the creatures that lurked there.”

“Turns out fae and human are more alike than people think at least in their cruelty.” Az said in response, no judgement, no pity, just stating a fact.

“Their kindness too, Az.” He gave a nod, “Would you mind taking me to the town house?”

“You don’t want to stay here? Close to Feyre.” Again, there was no judgement in his tone simply asking a question.

“Not today. Plus, most of my clothes are in the town house anyway and my journal.” I left out the part about Cassian gifting that to me.

“Sure, do you want to go now?” I nodded and he held out his hand which I graciously took my hand, and his shadows consumed us, and we were in front of the town house.

I looked at him, “That’s a neat trick,” A shadow slithers up to her hand and she coos at it, “Is there anything you little guys can’t do.”

Azriel made a face, “They are shadows not, puppies.”

The shadow kisses my cheek and wraps around my hair before slinking back toward its master, “I think they liked it.”

Az groaned, “They did.” I couldn’t contain my laughter. “You going to be, okay?” Rhys was kind of worried about you.” He paused, “Cassian had fought Rhys to stay. He had to pull rank.”

“He shouldn’t have abandoned his duties to help me. He doesn’t even know me very well.” I shrugged.

Azriel smiled, “Cassian has a big heart, when he sees someone is hurting, he will do anything in his power to make them feel better. I do know he enjoys your company and cares about you.”

Heat rose in my cheeks at Azriel’s words. “Well hopefully he doesn’t have to stay wherever he is at for too long. I find that I enjoy his company too.” He smiled, “Have a nice lunch Az. I’ll talk to you later.” He waved and his shadows consumed him, and he was gone. It made my way inside and ran to my room and began writing in my journal pouring out my emotions from the last few days.

A few days had gone by, and Az has continued teaching me how to hone my skills in throwing daggers along with sparring with a long sword. I spent my afternoons writing and despite Rhys’ efforts avoiding my sister. It was about a day and a half before Rhys and her came into the town house, and I just kept to myself. I kept to my room and wrote in my journal the words were flowing through me and I felt this wave of creativity. I wasn’t writing stories but just getting words on paper was a start.

The week’s end approached and there was a knock on my door as I was sitting in my bed reading a book. “Come in.” Rhys stepped in and I gave him a smile, “How is she?”

He gave me a warm smile, “Good, she wants to meet the Inner Circle. Wants to work with us.” I nodded, “So we’re having dinner tonight.”

“Okay. Have fun.” I murmured flipping the page. The book was ripped from my hand and disappeared, “Rhysand!” He walked to my closet and picked up the new gown that Mor insisted I buy weeks ago and dropped it on my bed.

“Get changed, get ready, we’re leaving at the top of the hour.” He crossed his arms and stared at the floor, “She’s been asking about you and you’ve been blocking me out. Just try, okay?” I nodded and he comes up and kisses my forehead, “Good,” he gave my arm a comforting squeeze, “Oh, did I mention, Cassian is home.” My head perked up and he had a knowing smirk on his face. “He was wondering where you were and why you weren’t in the House of Wind.” He flicked my nose, and I swatted his hand. “Get dressed.” And he walked out.

Cassian’s POV

It was an agonizingly long week Devlon was fighting me on every order and had a comeback for every word I said. Knowing that I was going to come home and get to spend some time with Y/N. Leaving her when she looked so devastated and Rhys sharing the argument between the twins in my mind set my blood boiling. I had to remember that Feyre was also hurting but it still didn’t make it alright for making Y/N feel guilty for something Tamlin fucking did.

The days blurred together but then I was on the balcony of the House of Wind and the air felt stale and I looked for anyone. My wings slumped a little bit I was hoping to see Y/N. I felt familiar claws against my shields, and I let them down.

Welcome home brother, Rhys’s voice flooded my brain.

I walked into my room and began to take off my leathers, Thanks, where is everyone?”

Azriel is wandering around the city for something, Mor is coming back from the Court of Nightmares and the twins are in the townhome with me. Everyone is coming out there to the House of Wind for Dinner.

Have the two of them made any headway?

No, they haven’t, Y/N has kept to herself except for training with Azriel. I am about to drag her out for dinner. I just wanted to welcome you home.

Thanks, I’ll see you soon.

***

I walked into the dining room and was greeted by a bubbly blonde, “How was Windhaven?”

I snorted, “Shitty,” I wrapped my arms around her, “How was the Court of Nightmares?”

Mor chuckled, “Shitty.” There was a brief pause before the two of us chuckled and took our seats. Amren sat a goblet in her hand. “How are you, Amren,” Mor gave her a smile.

Amren quirked a brow, “Ready to get this over with.”

“Come on, Little one, you don’t want to meet Feyre Cursebreaker see what she’s all about?” I countered she just scoffed and sipped her goblet.

Thunderous wings announced my brother’s presence both Rhys and Azriel had a sister and something in my chest eased to seeing Y/N. Rhys led a woman who looked so like her sister she was in a dark blue gown, and she looked beautiful. My eyes gazed over to my brother who was helping take off Y/N’s cloak and I swore the room was void of air. Y/N was in a light blue gown shimmering with sparkles looking like water on the sunset with thin straps and a slit started at the middle of her thigh that showcased her now toned thigh. Her hair was pinned to one side soft curls falling to her full chest.

Rhys slipped into my mind, Brother, close your mouth you’re drooling.

I shook my head and subconsciously wiped my mouth and looked over to Az who gave me a knowing wink before kissing the top of Mor’s head in greeting. I could feel eyes on me, and I turned my gaze back to Y/N her smile almost made me fall to my knees. And before I knew it she was sprinting toward me, I grinned back at her and opened my arms right as she hopped into my arms and wrapped her arms around my neck. “You’re home.”

I squeezed her tightly and took in her scent of Jasmine and vanilla. “I missed you too, Princess.”

There was a cough, and I opened my eyes to meet Rhys’ and I place her down and I whispered in her ear, “You look beautiful tonight.” A blush crept up on her cheeks as the grin never left her face. I led her to one of the seats in between Azriel and myself.

Rhys looked over to Feyre who did not leave the balcony, I decided I should break her tension, “Come on Feyre, we don’t bite, Unless you ask us to.” There was slap of the back of my head and saw Az giving me a pointed look and Y/N trying hard not to laugh.

“Cassian, no one has taken you up on that offer.” Rhys countered as he had his hand on Feyre’s back, she gave me a small smile and I nodded my head and gave her a wink. “The loud one over there is Cassian, Azriel on your sister’s left, you obviously know Mor and Amren, my second in command.” Rhys led her to the table and food appeared.

“So, you took down a Middengard Wyrm, pretty impressive, Feyre.” I said piling food to my plate, Y/n tensed beside me, and Feyre looked to her plate.

“No I didn’t.” Feyre murmured her eyes looming over her twin, “That was Y/N.”

I turn to the human woman beside me, “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

She simply shrugged. “You didn’t ask, it wasn’t worth talking about.” She focused on her food.

Rhys kicked my foot under the table and gave me a pointed glare. Again another few moments went by and Rhys filled the silence with what he would require of Feyre if she were to join the Night Court and fully leave the Spring Court.

Feyre is nodding along, and Y/N had been picking at her food. I bumped my knee against hers, “Are you okay?”

She looked up at me and she smiled, “Yeah I’m great.” She leaned up to my ear and I tried to tamper my excitement of her chest pressing against my arm, “I missed you, General.”

I met her eyes and noticed her pupils were blown, “Likewise, Princess.”

“What did you do to my sister?” Feyre blurted, “What spell do you have her under?”

Y/N blinked, and her head slowly turned to her twin, “Excuse me?”

“I’ve never seen you this way, you were so cold in the Spring court and the human lands, surely, they have some type of hold on you that you are so comfortable with them. Rhys is capable-“

Y/N slammed her hands on the table and rose from her seat, her dress pooling on the floor, a true vision with rage contorting her beautiful face. “Don’t. Just don’t.” She points to Rhys, “Rhysand, offered me a bargain tattoo as a way of communicating with him in case I needed him when I was in the Spring Court. And has made sure I have been comfortable since being here.” She points to Mor, “Mor, has been a friend and a confidant and welcomed me with open arms.” She points to me and Azriel, “And these two, saved my life from the Naga when your precious High Lord left me out to rot. Everyone has been training me to fight, to strengthen my mental shield, and to read and write. Something that they are still willing to help with you if you choose to take it to give you back control.” Her hand finds mine and links her pinky around mind and my chest hummed with warmth, “You may not trust Rhysand or his friends. You don’t have to like them if you don’t want. However, by while you’re here under Rhys’s protection you will show him and his family some fucking respect, when they provided you aid, because Tamlin failed to.” Feyre balled her fist, and I could see her clench her jaw. Though Rhys had a look of shock on his face his cool mask melted away. Azriel tensed but not because he was uncomfortable it was because he was fighting back tears and Mor gave her a small smile sipping her eye. I could not help the pride swelling in my chest. The selfless, generous woman just defended my family against her own and I focus back on my plate ignoring the erratic beat of my heart.

It was Amren who chuckled low that spoke, “Oh how, I like you, Girl.”

The rest of the dinner was sat in silence, but Y/N’s pinky never unhooked from mine.

Chapter 7

Story tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian x you #archeron sister #cassian imagine #cassian acosf #the flash fanfiction #unwaveringpresence #acomaf #Spotify

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yelenasdiary · 24 days

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for the a widows sunshine series what about when y/n’s school is having like one of those parent days where the kids parents come to the school to do fun activities and natasha has to tell her that she can’t make it because of work or something like that and y/n is really sad about that.

so instead wanda surprises her by showing up for her which makes y/n really excited. i didn’t have a specific age in mind but maybe this could be for the 5-10 age range.

Afternoon Tea Party

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Daughter! Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: When your mom can’t get out of work for a kindergarten event, Wanda takes it upon herself to surprise you.

Tiny Angst, Comfort

Warnings: None | 0.9K

AC: Thank you for sending this! Reader is 5 in this, perfect for just before they call Wanda ‘mama’ at age 6! I hope you enjoy this! x

A Widow’s Sunshine Masterlist

“Rough night?” Wanda asked Natasha while the red head poured herself a mug of coffee. “Nah, I just dropped Y/n off at kindergarten and spend 20 minutes in the parking lot to get her to stop crying before I walked her in” Natasha replied, sipping her coffee.

“Is she okay?” Wanda asked.

“She has this afternoon tea thing, and I can’t get out of training the new recruits so I can’t go. She was really excited about it” Natasha explains, sighing to herself knowing she had let her daughter down. “Why don’t I go? I mean, only if you’re okay with it” Wanda suggested, causing a soft smile to tug at Nat’s lips.

“You would do that?” She asked.

“Of course, I’d love too” the brunette smiled. Nat kissed her softly, “you are a life saver, thank you! It starts at 1pm, take my credit card and buy a fruit salad or something to take” she replied.

“Don’t stress, I’ve got this. You on the other hand, don’t need this” Wanda said, taking the coffee from Nat’s hand, “you only drink more than one cup of coffee when you’re stressed, have some juice or water and leave the rest up to me!” She added.

----

You, along with your other classmates helped the teacher set up the family event by placing a spread of snacks on the table for guests to help themselves too. You wished your teacher would let you sit in her office to draw while everybody else had fun but your teacher said no and encouraged you to take part in the event.

As parents started to arrive, you only got sadder knowing that you’d be one of the only students without your parent showing up. It was moments like these that you hated your mother’s job and didn’t understand why she couldn’t come.

Quietly, you snuck off to the corner of the classroom where the books were and made yourself comfortable on one of the beanbags and looked at the picture book in hopes of ignoring the event taking place around you.

“What are you reading there?” A familiar voice made you look up from the picture book.

“Wanda!!” You jumped up, dropping the book and instantly giving her a tight hug, “are you here for afternoon tea?” You asked, looking up at her.

“I sure am! I even brought some apple and orange slices; can you show me where I can put them?” Wanda asked with a soft smile. You took her free hand and took her to the snack table where she placed the fruit slices down. “Over here we have drinks you can help yourself too! Do you want a drink?” You asked, full of happiness.

Wanda loved seeing how happy and excited you were for her to be here, “Sure! I could do with a drink” she replied before you rushed over to the drinks table and waited for Wanda to help you pour some juice for the two of you.

After you and Wanda enjoyed your juice, you took Wanda to the wall where plenty of artwork was hanging, you showed her the painting of the beach you had painted a few days ago before showing her the robot you made from boxes which you named uncle tony.

“And this is a folder is all about me!” You said, giving her the folder with your name on the front that you had proudly decorated. Just as Wanda started to have a good look through the folder, one of your teachers had announced that it was time to take your family member or family friend to one of the activity tables to take part in. You had your eyes set on the paper puppet making table and quickly grabbed Wanda’s hand before rushing over to the table.

You grabbed a piece of green A4 paper while Wanda grabbed a pink piece of paper. “I’m going to make a frog!” You beamed as you reached for a piece of red paper. Wanda smiled softly before she had a quick look over the instructions sheet, once she had an idea of how to make a paper puppets, she offered to fold your green paper as shown in the instructions.

“What are you going to make Wanda?” You asked, using the kid friendly scissors to begin cutting out the shape of your frog’s tongue.

“I think I might make a little bunny” Wanda replied as she finished up folding the green paper for your frog. “I like bunnies! I wish I could have one as a pet, but mommy says we can’t have pets in our new home” you replied.

“An apartment is no place for a bunny, maybe you could ask to keep one at your uncle Clint’s house” the brunette suggested. You face lit up at the idea, “I’m going to ask her when I go home today!!” You smiled before reaching for the glue.

Wanda helped you glue some extra pieces of paper on the head for the eyes and even helped you cut out some white and black circles to make the eyes, once satisfied with your frog, you wrote your name on the back and placed the crafty frog on your hand.

“I’m going to name her Miss Hoppies!” You smiled at Wanda.

“Miss Hoppies looks awesome! Do you think she will like being friends with Cupcake?” Wanda replied, placing the bunny puppet on her hand. You chuckled at the name Wanda had picked for her puppet, “that’s a funny name for a bunny” you said, “but I like it!” You added.

The two of you then played with the puppets together, having Wanda surprise you made you forget the reason why your mother couldn’t come. Although you were still sad that you couldn’t do this with her, you couldn’t wait to show her the puppets you and Wanda had made.

If you want to be on the taglist for this series, please see the masterlist. It's linked at the top of this post.

#yelenasdiary asks #anon #fanfiction #marvel #wanda maximoff #wandanat #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #awidowssunshineau

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whateverisbeautiful · 23 days

Text

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#45: The Son's Best Friend (1.05)

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

He was in love with his son’s best friend. 😭

I had said there were two big lines in TOWL that would basically need a whole reflective post dedicated to them. And one of those lines was Michonne telling Rick the only time she feels safe is when she’s with him in ep 4. The other is this line here in ep 5 where Rick just makes every Richonne moment in TWD even better by confirming that before Richonne became canon, Rick was well aware that he was in love with Carl’s best friend 🥹...

In any post I have on Richonne's season 6 canon scene I have always expressed that it is so clear Rick is fully aware he’s in love with her before they sit on that couch. He knows. Not subconsciously but consciously knows he’s in love with Michonne before they ever kiss.

And for Rick to confirm this years later was just heavenly and it has given me a lot of new thoughts on Richonne’s TWD journey. So you know we gotta go in-depth and talk about it. 😋

After talking about RJ and Judith, Rick turns the attention back to Michonne when he holds up some toothpaste. And I love the playful way he says, “I got you something.”

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I always love a good callback so it’s great hearing him say this when he also told Michonne, "I got you something” regarding the mints during their season 6 canon episode.

Back then he had to make do with mints since the toothpaste sunk to the bottom of a lake - but now years later, Rick finally got her that toothpaste she wanted. Soon as he got it, she did. 😭

I really do marvel over the way TOWL came and just checked pretty much every possible Richonne thing we could have wanted and didn’t even know we wanted off the list.

And seeing Rick get this toothpaste was such a great full-circle callback to the episode where Richonne became official. Dental hygiene has been blessing the Richonne ship since season 5, y’all. And we’re still getting blessed by it in 2024. 🙌🏽

I’ve also always loved that Rick remembers every detail about Michonne so of course he remembers the exact flavor of toothpaste she likes as he walks over to her and says, “I think it was baking soda and spearmint. As requested.” So cute and Rick is the only man ever, just saying. 😋

gif cred: @ex0rin

I love his little playful flirty energy and that Michonne laughs as she immediately remembers the moment he’s calling back to. Michonne being courted by Rick is one of my favorite things and I love seeing her be so smitten by her handsome man yet again. Rick and Michonne are both a pro at getting each other to laugh and smile. 👌🏽

Then I love that she takes the toothpaste and all flirtily says, “Man of his word.” The way she’s smiling at him is so sweet. And then she says, “it only took a couple lifetimes” because they really have lived a whole lot of life since that day in season 6.

gif cred: @ex0rin

And then next, y’all…I was attacked. I was attacked with a line so good it stayed stuck in my head for weeks. 😊

Because Rick then looks at Michonne and says,

“I was in love with my son’s best friend. I didn’t know what to do.” 🫠

The best. 😭😭😭

gif cred: @ex0rin

I had been hoping that TOWL would give Richonne a reflective moment to talk about and look back on their love story and this was such a great way to do it. It explains so much.

The ‘I was in love with my son's best friend’ line really is informative and got me reflecting back on Richonne's journey in The Walking Dead. And something that hit me was thinking about the tail end of season 4 - which I've always felt Rick was most definitely in love with Michonne by then.

I used to think it was only subconscious for him at that point but honestly...now I like to think he was even more aware he was in love with her than I originally thought at this time. He still was dealing with a lot mentally and externally of course, but he knew the love he had for Michonne was different in 4b.

And here’s where the son’s best friend part factors in - Rick realizes he’s in love with Michonne in 4b and what he also knows full well is that his son adores her and needs her. So at the same time that he’s realizing his feelings for Michonne, Carl is also forming this invaluable bond with Michonne. And Rick very clealry sees that.

gif cred: @tangerineprettygreen

Rick sees the way Carl genuinely laughs and has fun with Michonne over breakfast and on the train tracks. He sees how after the horrific trauma with the Claimers, Carl feels safe enough to fall asleep in Michonne’s lap. (I like to think that Rick opened the car door to say it was time to head out and he saw his baby restful in her arms)

And while that’s more of a headcanon, we literally see Rick watch Michonne and Carl have a heart-to-heart in the forest that concludes with a hug during the s4 finale.

All of this is part of why this line in TOWL ep 5 is so fitting. Because during that s4 era, Rick had this romantic love for Michonne rising to the surface within him, but he also felt he needed to not act on those feelings because he saw his son needed Michonne just as much.

Every time Rick started looking at Michonne with those ILY eyes, he just had to look slightly to the side and see Carl looking up at Michonne as his best friend and safe space. And so as a caring dad, Rick didn't want to risk getting in the way of Carl and Michonne's bond.

But as Michonne says - Richonne's love can’t be denied - and it also can’t be avoided. So while Rick thought he could fend off or table his feelings - or idk what he thought he could do actually because he didn’t know what to do either - but any denial of their love was always going to be futile because Richonne was inevitable. They were meant to be. 😌

And one of the things that will always make my heart smile is knowing that Carl clearly seemed to feel Rick and Michonne were meant to be too, because he truly was not at all shocked when they finally got together.

When Carl found out about Richonne he fully approved and looked like the only thing that surprised him was that it hadn’t happened already. My boy Carl was looking at both Rick and Michonne with some 'duh, I been knew' energy the day after they got together. 😋

(Also, kids are super perceptive so I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Carl could tell Rick was a lot happier in his relationship with Michonne than in his previous marriage.)

It turned out Rick never had to be worried about his love for Michonne complicating things between Michonne and Carl because not only was Richonne meant to be but so was Grimes Family 2.0.

They were always going to be the family they became because that’s just how destiny works. Beautiful destiny. 😌

(Side note: A few years ago I wrote a RIR post about that season 4 moment when Rick asks Michonne if she needs help cleaning up those walkers. To me, it really felt like Rick might have been intentionally waking up early to see Michonne. And after this “I was in love with my son's best friend” line now I'm just convinced that it’s true. 😋 Rick wanted to spend some alone time with his crush in that s4 scene. 👌🏽 Hence his cute little pouty face when Michonne warmly declined.)

And I love that Rick also admits he didn’t know what to do about the fact that he’d fallen in love with his son's best friend. That implies he thought about what to do and just came up short with an answer because he so badly didn’t want to potentially jeopardize Michonne’s vital role in his family’s life by trying to advance the relationship if it wasn’t something she also wanted.

It's funny how Rick and Michonne are very observant people but were hesitant to know for sure that the other really was into them romantically pre-canon. Even despite all the blatant attraction between them both. 😊

Had Rick or Michonne been observing any other two characters interact in the same way they do, they would have quickly clocked that the two have feelings for each other. But between them, they thought they had to ‘work up to’ finding out if the feeling was mutual when really they’ve been the others for the taking pretty much since season 4.

But it makes perfect sense that what took Rick so long to make his move wasn’t solely the world screaming at them, or the Lori baggage and PTSD he needed to heal from - it was also that he felt he’d need to tread lightly with his son’s best friend and not do anything to get in the way of Michonne and Carl's connection.

With what a loverboy Rick is, it actually would track that when love hit him he’d become aware of it sooner rather than later. Plus, the time between TWD 4.15 when Rick was looking at Michonne like 😍 on those train tracks & TWD 6.10 when Richonne got together on that couch was years for us but it was a much shorter span of time for the characters.

If Rick knew by the end of season 4 that he was in love with Michonne, to me his actions in season 5 really further solidify that he was in love with her and was at least somewhat aware that love was part of why she has so much influence on him and his decisions.

And when I think about it, even if Rick knew he was in love with Michonne at the end of season 4, there was hardly any room or privacy to forwardly act on the realization of those feelings during the majority of season 5.

They were busy escaping the jaws of cannibals, traveling on the road with scarce resources and team family always around, searching for a home base, and then arriving at ASZ, a place that initially put Rick more on edge than when they were roughing it outside the walls.

So that, on top of feeling like he can’t and won’t intervene in his son’s friendship with her by making his feelings known, makes a lot of sense as to why it took Rick the time it did to finally make his move.

But even at a time where the weight of the world was on Rick's shoulders and so few could reach him in season 5, Michonne always could. She had his heart and there are moments in s5 where Rick could even be hinting that he knows she has his heart too.

I think about the 'Rules Keep Changing' scene in TWD 5.11 when Rick talks to Michonne about the rules changing regarding when to let someone in. After TOWL, I feel like that moment can be interpreted as Rick slowly coming around to maybe changing the rule that he can’t be with Michonne because she’s Carl’s bestie.

And you know what we gotta address next - when team family arrives at Alexandria, even the extremely brief and messy Jessie situation further aligns with Rick being in love with his son’s best friend if I do say so myself.

With Rick entering ASZ in love with a woman he's told himself is off limits because of his son, that would likely make Rick even more eager to divert that existing energy within him elsewhere since he at the time doesn’t feel he can bring that energy to his sons best friend, despite being in love with her.

It's like, on top of being rooted in his PTSD and paranoia, intervening with the Anderson situation gave Rick something to preoccupy that in-love-with-Michonne part of himself that he's trying to deny.

Even tho Rick still very much does bring that 'ILY' energy to Michonne in so many of Richonne's season 5b/6a scenes. Like how he's very adamant about securing the home she wants, how he 'signs the papers' with ASZ after Michonne confides in him about wanting a job and wanting this place to work, and how he directly lets her know that he knows she could've successfully talked him out of his under-the-table plans.

(Side note: The more I see this great Richonne season 5 finale scene, the more I feel like Rick actively wants to hint to Michonne that she's it for him with everything he's saying and doing here. It's just our girl Michonne was not yet translating all these signs from him as romantic interest in her, even tho Slick Rick was real obvious)

Also I noticed how the driving force of that whole thing with Jessie was never really rooted in Rick thinking ‘I want her’ but rather ‘She needs me.’

Rick mainly seemed to be thinking about how he was right for Jessie as a woman in need of protection, and he never really seemed to be assessing if she was right for him too. Never seemed to be considering his compatibility with her or focusing in on her based on anything unique/specific about her beyond surface-level attraction and the fact that she resembled what he was used to with Lori.

He didn’t evaluate any specifics or long-term outcomes with that Anderson situation (like how Carl would feel about all this) and he didn't tell anyone close to him about his dazed pursuit of her. And now I think that part of that is because Rick already knew the woman who was right for him. He knew the woman who had his heart and love already.

But the woman he wants is the woman he thinks he can't have because, being the selfless guy he is, he was not going to interfere with his son's relationship with his favorite person, even if Michonne had become Rick's favorite person too.

Women like Lori and Jessie were the type who would need to rely heavily on Rick’s protection to survive that world. And that's what Rick had been accustomed to. It's how he came to understand his own worth and value - through what he can do to save and rescue others.

However, Michonne doesn’t need Rick to survive in that way - but she does need him to live.

Michonne ushered in a whole new territory for Rick. One that was so refreshing and welcomed because she and him could lean on each other and not have things be one-sided. And I've always appreciated the way two very capable characters like Rick and Michonne so deeply and healthily need each other even with their individual capabilities. And I'm so happy with how that need for each other evolved into the deepest love for each other.

It just has always been so clear that by the time Rick kissed Michonne in s6 he was already fully in love with her. On that couch, they both kissed each other like they'd been wanting to do that a long while. That's part of why once Rick and Michonne kissed, their status didn't feel like gf/bf but husband and wife.

(Side note: I love how in TWD 6.11 Jesus assumed Rick and Michonne were Carl’s parents after walking in on them in the bedroom. That was Richonne’s very first time sleeping together and Jesus still quickly got the vibe that Rick and Michonne were in a committed relationship. ☺️)

(Another side note: it wasn't until this year that I noticed there's a quick wordless moment on that couch in 6.10 where Rick looks at Michonne and subtly gets permission to get on top of her. 😊 As many times as I've seen Richonne scenes there's always something new to catch.)

This immense love Richonne has for each other - it's not just made out to be this romantic and powerful in their spin-off series, it’s what it’s always been.

And when Rick and Michonne finally got together in 6.10 it wasn’t ushering in this wildly new dynamic between them - it was simply acknowledging their existing married dynamic and finally adding physical intimacy to the union.

Also, another one of the million things that I love about Richonne's first kiss in season 6 is that it seems like they immediately know this is right. Them being together romantically felt so right to them. And not only was connecting that way as good as they thought it'd be...it was even better. 😌

And after their canon ep, Rick was definitely of the mindset that he and Michonne were a ‘together forever’ couple in the way he was telling Michonne's bestie Carl 'This is different' the very next morning. 😋 Rick and Michonne were just in bed what a few hours ago? And Rick still already knew for certain what he has with Michonne is different and long-term. ☺️

Knowing he knew for a while that he was in love with his son's best friend, it makes it even more clear why Rick had that nervous energy when finally telling his son about him and Michonne. Behind that RV, Rick felt like he was approaching Carl not just as his son but as Michonne's best friend. Rick wanted to assure Carl that he has good intentions with his best friend since he knows how much Carl loves and is protective of Michonne.

Rick told Carl, "I was gonna tell you about me and Michonne..." and I'm convinced Rick meant that for a while he's been meaning to tell Carl about him and Michonne, not just since the night before.

(Side note: I was thinking about that scene in 6.12 when Rick leads a meeting in the church, telling ASZ about the plan to take out the Saviors. I always noticed how Rick ends the meeting by seemingly just walking out while they’re all still sitting there...and now, no one can tell me Rick didn’t walk out to go straight to moving Michonne’s stuff into his room. 😂

I believe this was their first time back home since his night with Michonne so Rick was like ‘listen community, I have some equally important matters to attend to like moving a bunch of tight pants and tank tops into my bedroom dresser so meeting adjourned.’ 👌🏽😋)

So now that I personally interpret that Rick was aware that he had fallen in love with Michonne earlier than previously thought, it led me to wonder about when I think Michonne was aware she'd fallen in love with him. While Rick and Michonne fell in love around the same time in season 4 to me, I feel Michonne became conscious of her feelings at a later time than Rick.

I'd say Rick knew his feelings for her before they entered ASZ. Like somewhere in between the train tracks scene in 4.15 and when Michonne takes Rick's hand outside the gates of ASZ in 5.11, he knows he's in love. And I think Michonne started to know consciously that she’d fallen in love with Rick after her chat with Deanna about what she wanted for herself.

It makes sense it would take a bit longer for Michonne to process and be aware of her feelings considering the losses and isolation she’d experienced at the start of the end of the world. She had a lot of time to wall up her heart after losing Mike and Andre, whereas Rick, even after he lost Lori, still had kids and a group he had to be present for.

Michonne was aware she felt safe with Rick and that he meant a lot to her for a while, but she just had to come around to fully realizing she was also utterly in love with him all this time too.

And again, it is always a little funny to me that Michonne thought she had to 'work up to' making her feelings known to Rick and seeing if it’s mutual when so many team family and ASZ members could already see that Rick and Michonne had something special between them and were each other's person.

(Another nother side note: I know we've wondered before why the show didn’t explore more men showing interest in Michonne when she’s an absolute catch in every way, but I think I might know why men weren’t more directly approaching her on that type of timing. After season 3 when the group was really small, season 4a when she was keeping herself at a friendly distance from tf, and 4b when she was pretty much only around the Grimes boys, she then had Rick Grimes - and Season 5 'Ain’t Nothing To Play With' Rick Grimes at that - showing clear signs that Michonne was the special woman in his life. I don’t think many men were gonna be bold enough to risk interfering with that when Richonne was basically out here already spoken for and living about as 'married with kids' as could be even before they became an official couple. 😅)

Also just hearing Michonne be referred to as Carl’s best friend again after all these years is so special. 🥹

She really was his best friend from season 4 to the very end, and I love that Rick has always known and appreciated that about Michonne and Carl’s tight-knit bond.

So then I'm extra elated when Rick adds, “Then you asked for that toothpaste. I was damned if I didn’t find something.” 🫠💕

gif cred: @ex0rin

Every time I’ve watched that domestic opening scene in their canon ep, I’d always think about how clear it is that Rick was going to be adamant to bring home something to give Michonne. And that 'something' he found - those mints - will always hold a special place in their journey. 🥰

That’s another great thing about TOWL too is it allows you to watch Richonne's TWD journey with fresh eyes. Like the TWD Richonne moments already never got old but now not only do they not get old they almost feel a little fresh and new too.

And I love watching their moment on the couch and knowing when Rick reaches for those mints he's well aware that he pocketed those because he’s in love with her and wanted to show he could provide what Michonne wanted.

Like he acts like 'oh yeah I forgot, I have these mints'…but nah that was not an afterthought. That was a move lol. 😋 And honey, the move worked. 👌🏽

Rick was on that run with Daryl like if I do nothing else today I got to find something for her. He’s loved her a long time, y'all. We been knew and now it’s more than confirmed and it’s great. 🙌🏽

I love how, even after all these years, Rick still remembers the details of the day he and Michonne took their relationship to a new level and that he now gets to recall the details with Michonne. Just as his dreams suggested, falling in love with Michonne and Michonne falling in love with him are some of the things Rick is most grateful for in his life, so of course he remembers these things. I'm sure that man could give a play-by-play of that entire 6.10 day, from the morning to night. 😋

And I love that Rick wants Michonne to know he remembers. He wants her to know that everything about her and their love story is important to him. 🥲

Then it’s so sweet how Michonne hears this and pulls Rick in close to let him know, “You found your moment.” He really did, because bringing home those mints set off a canon. 😌

gif cred: @ex0rin

And then I love their flirty energy with Rick asking, “Is this one?” And Michonne all cutely shrugging and being like, look into my eyes, sir... “You tell me.” 😏 The way she’s smiling at him 🥹 - she’s down bad for her man y'all and it makes total sense.

Also, them playing all coy about whether this is a moment always makes me laugh cuz Richonne can turn any and every moment into a moment. 😋

Like they had a whole horny moment when CRM soldiers were just a few feet away and they didn't even try to align behind the bark of that boneless tree. They also had a quick makeout session mere seconds before a giant building collapsed. So they knew good and well this was a moment in the gift shop. It’s always a moment for Richonne, and we love this about them. 😇

gif cred: @nat111love

And because it’s always a moment, Rick leans in as they kiss and it’s just the best yet again. The way they said kissing is going to be embedded in the plot wherever it can is yet another TOWL blessing.

I love the kiss and then I especially love that Rick then kisses her neck. Prior to the show, I had been hoping for a Richonne gesture like this in TOWL and we got it cuz Richonne is the gift that keeps on giving and we’re spoiled.😋 They made me and @ririchonne's wish come true 🙌🏽😌

gif cred: @lousolversons

Also, Richonne has the best grown youthful love in media if you ask me and this moment was giving young energetic love in the best way. They have so many kisses in TOWL and each one is hot and sweet. 💯

So as they’re again getting lost in their blissful Richonne bubble, Michonne spots something and pulls away, and I love how Rick was so immersed in what they had going on that he’s a little caught off guard when she does that. 😋

And it’s so sweet that Michonne knows this and whispers, "sorry," giving him another kiss before checking out the front desk place. I love that little kiss and the way his arms are still around her until the last second.

Michonne notes that there’s a cabin nearby and Rick asks if she saw the sign on the road. Michonne smiles and takes a key, saying, “Looks like we found a place to stay for the night.” Fuel, food, room and board - I’m telling you, the Universe loves providing for Richonne because they know they’re the best soulmates in the land. 💁🏽‍♀️

gif cred: @nat111love

I love that when Richonne are in sync with each other, things just work out. And Rick notes this as he says, “Luck keeps holding up.” Normally those would be famous last words, but for Richonne they really do just win. 👌🏽

Now, I saw that there was originally a little flirty endbeat to this scene in the script that got cut. If that was filmed then I hope they release it as a deleted scene cuz I'm greedy when it comes to Richonne lol.🤞🏽 Either way, what did make the cut was excellent and I love that there was just so much Richonne gold within one scene.🥰

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne was in love with her best friend's dad. 🥲 Rick was in love with his son's best friend. 🥲 And my heart will always be warmed thinking about how Rick knew he was in love with his son’s best friend and now that very woman has given him a son that he’ll soon get to meet. 🥲

Rick really went from being in love with his son’s best friend to being in love with his sons' and daughter’s mother. What a journey. 👌🏽🥹

#richonne #towl #reveling in richonne #1.05 #RIR (45)#the ones who live #twd towl #michonne grimes #rick grimes #rick x michonne #twol #michonne #rick and michonne #twd: the ones who live #twd #richonnefandom

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finnsbubblegum · 1 year

Text

Where It All Starts (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, sweet joel, domestic joel, rom-com

Summary: reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah.

Words count: 1.1k

A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! I have a lot of ideas to write about Joel Miller fanfiction and I haven’t finished writing them all. I only have a few days before I start working but I want to write as much as I can. I’m pretty nervous since it’s my first full-time job. Wish me luck!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

“Please just let me go! I can’t do this anymore!” You heard a woman’s yell from outside your house while washing the dishes.

“Baby, please.. Just do this for Sarah. Please.” A man begged.

*baby cried*

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

Curiosity ate you. You peeked through your window and saw your neighbor were having a fight. Assuming they were husband and wife with a newborn baby. The man was carrying the baby while the woman was trying to get inside the car.

“Get in that car and there’s no coming back!” The man raised his voice.

You felt guilty for eavesdropping because that should be a private conversation but they fought in front of their house and you’re pretty sure everyone in the neighborhood heard them.

The next morning when you were preparing breakfast, you heard a knock.

“Can I help you?” It was the man from last night.

“Ugh yes, I’m sorry to bother you early in the mornin’. I was wonderin’ if you could help me with somethin’.” He put his hand behind his neck.

“Yeah, sure? What can I help you with?” You opened your door wider and invited him in.

“I live next door…I just had a baby and somethin’ happened with her mom..and I have to go to work so no one is watchin’ my daughter. Uh..You look young, I’m assuming you’re still in college, maybe you could help me babysit my daughter? I’ll pay you of course.”

“Oh! Uhm..Well..I’m not in college actually. I’ve graduated.” You chuckled.

“But I’ll take that as a compliment, sir.”

“Sorry.” Joel chuckled.

“Uhm..how old is your daughter?”

“She’s just 3 months old.”

“Oh!” Your eyes widened. You had never had a baby but you had always wanted one. But how could you possibly be able to babysit a newborn without experience?

“Sure, I’d like to help.” You were blinded by the man’s puppy eyes.

“Really can you do that? How about your work? Because I don’t want to burden you.”

“That’s not a problem, sir. I’m taking over my parents’ cafe nearby so I can take your daughter with me. If that’s okay.”

“You’re the best. Thank you. I’m Joel by the way. Joel Miller” He extended his hand to shake yours.

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n).” You shook his hand.

Joel invited you to his house and introduced his daughter to you.

“This is Sarah.”

“Hi Sarah. You’re so cute.” You booped her on the nose.

“Do you know how to hold a baby?” Joel asked you.

“I’ve held my nephew before but-”

“Here. Support her head like this.” Joel instructed you.

“Like this?”

“Yeah, just like that. Don’t worry, you’re doing good.” He placed his hand on your shoulder.

His touch made your heart beat faster. You know you shouldn’t be thinking about this since he just got into a fight with his wife last night. But you couldn’t help it. He could be a single dad any time in the future or probably now. And you admitted your neighbor was a hot young dad.

“So this is the bag. It has everything in it. Diapers, baby formula, and other things. She eats every 2-3 hours. Here’s the house key.”

“Got it.” You nodded.

“Okay, I’m runnin’ late. Here’s my number. Just call me if you need anythin’.” He shoved you a paper written with his phone number.

“You goin’ to work now?”

“Ugh-yes.”

“Want me to drive you?” Joel offered to drive you since your hands were full.

“It’s okay. I’ll drive myself.” You refused his offer.

“Okay, well. At least let me help you get settled in your car then?” He carried the big baby bag to your car and helped you settle the baby car seat in your car.

You put Sarah in the car seat and brought her to work.

“When did you have a baby again?” You co-workers couldn’t stop staring at the baby you brought to work.

“It’s not mine. It’s my neighbor’s. He’s-” You sighed.

“He? Single dad?” Flo’s eyes widened. She was still in college and working part-time at your cafe. She had a thing for single dads that was why she was interested in your situation.

“I’m not sure. But I heard him fighting with his wife last night. It sounded bad.” You shrugged.

“This could be it. This could be it.” She shook your body excitedly.

“Could be what?” You stopped her.

“You know. I know you’re lonely. And you definitely need a man. Why don’t you try it with him? Is he hot?” She raised her eyebrows up and down.

“I don’t know, Flo. I mean I’m still not ready and I’m sure he isn’t too.”

“Is.he.hot?” Flo repeated.

“Well, kinda?” You shrugged.

“Want my advice boss? I’d say you should flirt with him.” She crossed her arms to her chest.

You rolled your eyes.

“Want my advice? Get back to work or I will cut your pay.” You squinted your eyes.

“Yes, boss.”

Flo was right. Maybe this was your chance to start dating again. Since the last time you had your heart broken, you were too focused on helping your family’s business. But once you wanted to try dating again, you got a soon-to-be single hot dad? You always had a thing for dads. Just like Flo. Did you win the lottery? Probably. Let’s see.

Sarah wasn’t hard to babysit. You worked while babysitting her and your co-workers helped you so it wasn’t really hard work. You went home by dinner time and left your cafe to your employees to close the store. You put sleeping Sarah to her crib then went back to your car to get the bag. While you were closing the car door, Joel’s car parked on the driveway. You stopped and waited for him.

“Hi.” You put the bag strap to your shoulder.

“Hi. How was she? I hope she’s not taking your energy too much.” He walked closer to you and took the bag from you.

“She’s well-behaved actually.” You smiled and passed him the baby bag.

“Thank God.” Joel sighed.

“I put her to sleep.” You told Joel proudly.

“Thank you. I owe you a lot. I really appreciate it.” He placed his hand on your shoulder again.

“Did you eat dinner Mr. Miller?” You tried to flirt just as Flo told you.

“Not yet. Just call me Joel, please.”

“Joel.” You hummed.

“Pizza?” Joel suggested.

“Sure.”

Joel called for a pizza delivery and the two of you spent dinner together. You talked about college and work but not relationships. You were avoiding that topic and so did Joel.

“Thanks for dinner.” You thanked Joel as he walked you home which was just next to his house.

“Anytime.” He put his hands in his pocket.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow when I get Sarah?”

“Yeah, sure. See you tomorrow. Have a good night.” He kissed your cheek awkwardly.

“Good night, Joel.”

To be continued...

3K notes · View notes

twola · 4 months

Text

Passerine : Chapter 3

PAIRING: High Honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

One step forward, two steps back.

Warnings: This fic has graphic descriptions of non-consensual sex, violence against women, the trauma thereafter, and somewhat unhealthy coping mechanisms. If any of that content makes you feel uncomfortable or triggers you, this may not be the fic for you.

Hi - I know it’s been over a year since I’ve updated this. Passerine is a love letter to trauma and the thereafter. It’s heavy. It’s hard to write. But thank you all for holding on to this. I promise it won’t be another year before I post chapters 4, 5, and 6 to finish it out.

Note: I play fast and loose with the passage of time as compared to the canon game.

➵ AO3 Link ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ Previous | ➵ Next

Abigail pulls the canvas around the tent’s opening closed behind her. She sighs as she arranges the fabric to preserve the privacy that you so desperately need.

Wiping the back of her palm across her forehead, she squeezes her eyes shut as she tries to stave off a headache.

“Mama!”

She jolts, steadying herself as her five-year-old son barrels into her legs, whipping his arms around her skirts.

“Jack…-Jack,” Abigail reels slightly as she places her hand on his head as he snuggles into her thigh. She pushes gently and he unwinds his small arms from around her. He steps half a step back and she stoops down on one knee to look him in the eye.

She tucks some of his hair behind his ears, her hands cupping his small cheeks, losing the last bit of baby fat from them as the boy grows in fits.

“Can you be a good boy fer me and go find Uncle Hosea? I think he has a new book fer you.”

His eyes flash in excitement as he nods, and Abigail gives him a wry grin as he tries to wriggle away, not letting go of him until she places a kiss on his forehead. When she takes her hand from his shoulders, he darts away across the camp, calling after Hosea.

Bless him, he’s like a grandfather to Jack. Between him and Arthur, sometimes, sometimes, she can almost forget how terrible of a father John is.

Speaking of which, she finds him staring at her from across the camp, elbows at his knees as he sits in front of the fireplace. She glares back at him before turning away, huffing in a moment of agitation.

She pulls back the tent's canvas slightly, confirming to herself that yes, you are asleep.

Frowning, she lets the canvas go and walks over toward the lakeshore behind where Arthur had set his tent wagon up, crossing her arms over her chest as the red-painted sunset reflected off of the still waters of Flat Iron.

When she had asked you when was the last time you bled, she expected sputtering, anxious eyes and having to come up with a way to tell Arthur that he’d gotten a child upon you.

Instead, your flushed face turned almost white as you shot to your feet and immediately stumbled away from the wash bin and toward the treeline.

Abigail dropped laundry she had been working on back into the tub and hitched her skirt to run after you, catching up only as you doubled over, leaning against a tree as you choked up bile onto the ground.

You had burst into tears in between wet, gasping breaths, your stomach heaving dry when there was nothing left to expel. Abigail rubbed your upper back soothingly as she pulled your hair back from over your shoulder.

“C’mon now, it’s gonna be okay. Arthur’s- he’s the best of the men, he’ll take care of you.” She cooed softly, her hand working in slow circles between your shoulder blades.

You sob aloud, which unseats her. “It’s…it’s….”

You could barely get the words out.

Abigail’s circles slow, “Is… it not his?”

You collapsed to your knees as sobs racked your body, wet coughs echoing through the woods.

Abigail spent the rest of the afternoon trying to console you, able to pry details between your fits of dry heaving and sobs. She narrows her eyes against the red sun in the distance, her shoulders finally letting down from how tightly they’ve been wound all afternoon.

The truth was much worse than she had been expecting.

She had managed to coax you away from the trees and usher you quietly into Arthur’s tent, where she immediately pulled the canvas shut before turning back to you and pushing you down gently into the cot, taking your boots off one at a time and placing them on the ground next to the cot.

In hushed whimpers, you told her about what had happened those months ago when the gang was still at Horseshoe. Her brow furrowed in shock as she brushed your hair off of your forehead, taking a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and dabbing it across your damp brow.

The truth, as terrible as it was, was not unfamiliar to Abigail. A whore by fifteen, she had seen her share of women forced against their will. A customer gone too far, a rat of a man waiting to catch one of the girls alone, not wanting to pay for services.

She herself had experiences with it.

But you, as you regaled the terrible details in hiccuping breaths, you had never been part of that world, and when the O’Driscoll forced you down on that bed, the act of sex had never been weaponized against you until that moment.

She had finally calmed you down enough that you drifted off to sleep, not more than an hour ago.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Abigail glances back toward where the horses are hitched, Arthur’s mare still missing amongst them.

She lets out a long, mournful breath. As many times as she had tried to assure you that if you were with child it was likely Arthur’s… all you could dwell on was that man who bound and gagged you and had you on the old bed in that dingy cabin.

You had cried yourself to sleep, and Abigail now has to figure out what to do going forward. Obviously, she thinks as she brushes the loose hair at the nape of her neck that escaped her bun, she needs to figure this out with Arthur. No matter what the decision was. She needed to talk to him before she made a trip to Saint Denis to collect the needed items.

A pang of memory flashes in her mind - the horrified look on John’s face when she told him she was with child. How it was months before he had her in his bed again. Only once, when she was swollen with child, did he lay with her - now years ago.

The sound of hoofbeats draws her from the fugue of her thoughts. She turns partway around to see Arthur ride into the camp atop his mare, weighed down with a whitetail deer strapped across the horse’s rump. Wiping her hands on her skirt, Abigail sighs and moves towards where Arthur dismounts, following him silently as he shoulders the deer carcass and slings it over Pearson’s table.

He scoots over toward the tub of soapy water to wash the blood from his skin.

“Arthur.”

Arthur looks up, shaking his hands from the wash bin, “Miss Roberts,” he drawls with a smile on his face.

Abigail does not return his smile.

“She was raped?”

Arthur stares at Abigail from under the rim of his hat, clenching his jaw, “How-”

“She told me.” Abigail sighs, leaning against the tree a bit away from the camp that she had led him to.

“She alrigh’? What happened for her to tell you?” Arthur mumbles, glancing back at the camp looking for you, but you are nowhere to be found.

“Arthur. I think she’s with child.” Abigail states in a hushed tone, and Arthur’s eyes dart wildly back to her.

“Child?”

“Yes, Arthur,” Abigail retorts, her patience frayed and finally worn out.

Arthur’s jaw clenches before he opens his mouth again, “It’s mine.” He mumbles, almost too soft to hear, eyes shooting down to the ground.

Much like how you refused to listen to Abigail’s pleading and reassurance as she tried to convince you of the same, Abigail brushes aside Arthur’s comment.

“Did he… did he spend in her?” Abigail rubs her eyes with the back of her palm, exhausted as dusk was closing in on the camp.

“I have,” Arthur says quietly, continuing to look at the ground.

“I know you have, idiot. But th’ first thing she thought is that this baby belongs to some dead O’Driscoll that raped her.”

Arthur’s jaw sets, unable to hide the snarl from his tone. “Ain’t no way it's his. We’ve been sleepin’ together for a couple a’ months. And I don’t always-”

“Yes, Arthur, I get that.” Abigail interjects with exasperation, “The question is - does she?”

The outlaw’s gaze flicks upward, landing on Abigail for a moment, before he turns his head to the side, looking over the western horizon at Flat Iron Lake.

“Look - I don’t know what y’all want to do. I don’t know what she wants to do. But…” She trails off, her gaze also looking out to the lake, “I can give her things to make it end.”

Arthur doesn’t respond.

Abigail dusts off her skirt as she begins to step away, “But Arthur…”

He finally can make eye contact as she looks back at him.

“She’s gotta make up her mind - quick.”

The dinginess - the sour smell of off-food and dirty men permeated the air. The kind of stink that simple cleaning would never get rid of.

Your head is killing you as you blink away the pain, but you find yourself biting down on a foul piece of fabric tied around your mouth. You try to pull it down, but find that your wrists are bound behind your back.

The door opens and the feeling of dread in your chest explodes into a blazing fire of fear.

“There’s my little girl.”

His greasy, dark hair is slicked back away from his disheveled beard, and he smiles that toothy, nauseating grin at you.

The O’Driscoll pulls up your chemise from your thighs up and over your belly, baring your bottom half to him. You try to clench your thighs together, but as he leans over you, you do not find that he forces your legs apart.

But you cannot fight him as his rough and dirty hand spreads out over your belly.

“Pretty miss - gonna be all big and swollen with my child.”

Your eyes shoot open, your fingers closing tightly around the blanket that you’ve pulled around yourself. You have to bite your lip to stop from screaming aloud.

Dusk’s shadows permeate through the canvas of Arthur’s tent, and you realize you’ve spent most of the afternoon sleeping. You push yourself up in the cot, breathing out heavily.

You pass your hand over your stomach. As soon as Abigail asked you the last time you bled, the cavern inside you opened up. You hadn’t bled since before the house in Cumberland. The nausea, the vomiting. God, you’ve been so tired too.

Shit, was it true? Could there be a child there, under the softness of your belly? Would you grow round and hard there beneath your fingertips?

Not only was there a pit in your stomach, but you felt like your chest had been cracked open - you’re drowning in yourself - why can’t you escape that O’Driscoll and what he did?

You curl up smaller in Arthur’s cot, pulling the blanket over you, trying to hide from the world.

Usually, it’s before a job that he reaches for a cigarette. Something to calm his nerves and hone his senses before roaring into a situation with guns blazing.

That’s not the situation he finds himself in now.

Arthur finds himself pacing in the wooded area outside of camp, smoking hurriedly as his palm clenches in agitation. He throws the half-smoked cigarette to the ground and smashes it under the heel of his boot, turning his face upward and exhaling a plume of smoke with a sound that could be described as a sigh.

The lantern lights of the camp start to glow in the distance. He hasn’t worked up the courage to rejoin the group since stalking out to the woods and smoking half a pack of damn cigarettes.

Flat Iron Lake is still in the distance, a few ships passing between Saint Denis and Blackwater illuminate the dark waters.

Arthur grabs his hat off his head with one head and wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of the other. He closes his eyes, letting another long breath out.

Arthur swears he can hear a child’s laughter. It ain’t Jack though. Another young boy - with tawny hair and freckles dusting his cheeks.

“Papa!”

A young boy who darts toward him as he slides off of his saddle.

The smile of a dark-haired girl leaning in the doorframe.

Fishing rods and toy horses and bedtime stories when he came around. A cup of coffee and pleasant conversation with a girl he shared a night with so long ago…

And two wooden crosses. Silence. Not even the birds sang that day he came upon the little house off the road.

Arthur continues to pace, cursing under his breath. He goes to reach for yet another cigarette when he stops, swallowing, and grits his teeth.

How goddamn selfish of him to wallow in his own miserable past when you need him. The pit in his stomach reopens as he remembers the sight of you in that cabin. Bound, gagged, and violated.

And now his dumb ass has gone and gotten you pregnant. Foisted this upon you when you were still so vulnerable and hurting and god damnit - he told you he wasn’t a good person. This absolutely proves it.

There’s no lantern light on in his tent, he can see through the woods, and he’s stayed out long enough. Lord only knows Abigail is going to come find him and smack him the way she’s hit John - but he wouldn’t be any less deserving.

With yet another long, burdened breath, he heads back toward his tent.

Arthur Morgan moves as quietly as he can through the canvas, pulling it shut behind him. Darkness has fallen upon the camp, and he’s thankful that he can reach the oil lantern on the table with just enough moonlight for him to light it low. A yellow-orange glow emits from it, illuminating the tent.

You’re sitting in his cot, in the darkness, and in the light, he can see the sheen of tears down your cheeks. Your hair is falling out of the bun it’s half tied into. Fuck, he’s the goddamn scum of the earth.

“Darlin’,” his voice cracks with uncertainty.

You shiver, the threadbare blanket pulled over your shoulders as you sit in the cot. Arthur holds the rim of his hat in his hands, fidgeting with it restlessly as he cannot meet your eyes.

“Abigail seems to think…”

“Abigail’s right.” You mumble, monotone while staring into space.

Arthur chews his lip, “This is my fault.”

“Ain’t your fault an O’Driscoll-”

“I got you pregnant,” Arthur interjects, moving to sit on the small stool across from the cot.

“You don’t know it’s yours.” You snap back with a vicious snarl in your voice and he nearly recoils as if shot. This he did not expect.

Neither it seems, did you. Your eyes widen when you finally meet his, and hold his gaze for but a moment before your brow crinkles and you shove your face into your knees as you draw them up to your chest.

You hiccup a sob, “What if this baby looks l-like ‘im? What if the baby has them cold dark eyes starin’ at me like when when he-”

“Shh,” Arthur hushes you, preventing you from speaking aloud your terrible truth. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his embrace, “That ain’t gonna happen.”

You wriggle uncomfortably in his arms, trying to pull away. Arthur lets go of you, but his hands move to cup your cheeks and force you to look at him.

“No matter what, I’m gonna be here for you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes are only able to hold his stare for but so long before you look downward. Arthur lets go of your face and you take the opportunity to scoot further away from him in the cot, unable to look him in the eyes.

You’ve pulled your knees to your chest and hidden your face in them, ashamed of the tears that spill down your cheeks again.

“I had a son.”

Arthur’s voice is not loud, not strong, not solid. You slowly raise your head, sniffling, to find him sitting with his elbows on his thighs and head hung low, staring at the dirt below his feet.

“…had?”

He nods, still not looking at you, “He ‘nd his mother were killed, long time ago. Robbery.”

You remain quiet, your gaze down to the ground also.

“I wasn’t there.”

You wrap your arms tighter around your legs.

“Wasn’t there for any of it. Wasn’t there when he was born, barely there as he grew up, wasn’t there when he ‘nd his mother needed my protection.”

Arthur rubs tiredly over his eyes, his thigh bouncing slightly with something you recognize as agitation, anxiety.

Fear.

It is several moments before he looks up at you again, swallowing before the low timbres of his voice fill the tent again.

“If you want this baby - I’ll be here. For all of it.”

You curl up on Arthur’s cot and try to sleep. At your obvious discomfort, he maintains a distance between you, pulling a chair in from outside and posting himself in it, pulling his hat over his head to try to get some sleep.

Just before dawn, the pit in your stomach threatens to open up, and you toss the blanket from your body and pad outside, hurrying toward the treeline for what has become your normal. You’re able to make it a few trees back before you have to stop and hunch over to empty your stomach.

You wetly cough between heaving breaths, and it is not but a few minutes later that you feel his fingers grab into your hair, pulling it up as you vomit into the leaves below.

You lean into the tree harder as you spit up the last of the bile in your belly. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you stumble slightly when you try to stand up, and Arthur’s hands find your waist quickly to maintain your upright position.

“C’mon there, sweetheart, let’s lay you down again.”

You don’t answer him, instead allowing him to guide you back to his tent as the first vestiges of the dawn overtake the sky. You let him help you lay down, you let him pull the blanket over your body. Exhausted, you finally fall asleep.

You awaken several hours later, when a hand presses to your forehead, checking for a temperature. Your eyes flutter open to see Abigail leaning over you, and you scramble to get up as she moves to the end of the cot to sit opposite of you.

Abigail takes your hand in your lap after a few terse moments. “Y’ wanna get rid of it? I can make that happen, but we gotta do it sooner than later.”

You look up at her, unable to stop the sheen of tears from glazing over your eyes. Tears escape and trail down your cheeks as your gaze moves from Abigail, sitting on the cot with you, across the small tent to Arthur, sitting on an old chair with his elbows on his knees.

Behind those blue eyes of his is a maelstrom, one you know he’s trying to hide from you. Arthur’s whispered voice echoes in your mind as he tells you the sorry tale of his own fatherhood. His loss, the indescribable hole in his heart full of regret and sorrow. Arthur’s gaze moves from you down to the ground.

You close your eyes as another wave of tears slides down your face, sighing loudly as you try to gather what little composure you have left.

Finally, you look back to the woman gently rubbing your hand.

“Seen you hanging all over Arthur,” Grimshaw eyed your waist critically, “It’s his, ain’t it?”

There comes a time that you can’t hide it anymore - the swell of your belly just under your skirts. You’re sure the girls know - you’ve seen their eyes flit on your figure.

You continue to stare at the setting sun over the lake. Part of you wishes you had the wherewithal to respond, but you don’t have the strength to anymore.

Susan had clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Idiots. The both of you.”

You avoid people. Get your chores done quickly. Don’t complain about not getting jobs. Arthur moved everything of yours into his tent, more permanently letting down the canvas sides.

From that very first day that you cowered in his cot away from his touch, Arthur had given you a wide berth since you pushed him away - hesitant, sleeping on either a chair or laying his bedroll on the ground.

You awaken many days before dawn, silently padding out to the wooded area south of the camp, far enough away that the rest of the folks couldn’t hear your retching. Several times in the beginning, Arthur follows you, and you angrily shoo him away before he stops tagging along behind you.

Over the weeks, your belly hardens, your breasts swell. You have to let out the waist of your skirt, and there is no hiding anything when the height of the summer finds Clemens - it’s so miserably hot that layers to hide your growing body must be shed or you’d sweat to death.

You’ve seen Dutch eye you. You’ve seen him argue with Arthur. You’ve seen Grimshaw join the fray. Hosea has been dropping ginger tea off to you in the morning with a gentle, knowing smile - it tasted terrible, but after the first few bracing sips, it did settle your stomach.

“Mind if I join y’ for a smoke?”

From the grassy spot you sit upon, you look up to find the widow Adler looking down at you. She’s shed her skirts and blouses in favor of work pants. Arthur had dragged her away from Pearson hollering some kind of awful and they returned with her much less agitated. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a braid, the scar above her eyebrow much more noticeable when she wasn’t wearing a hat.

You nod, looking back to the water, and the spurs of Sadie’s boots jingling as she pulls a matchbook from her trouser’s pocket.

“You know me, I ain’t gonna pussy foot about you. I know you ain’t gettin’ fat because of Pearson’s cookin’.” Sadie lights the cigarette between her teeth, continuing to talk through the process.

You remain silent, sitting there on the shoreline, arms looped around your knees, your skirts hiding your frame - your belly, swelling with child.

The match sizzles when she chucks it into the lake and takes a drag.

“Y’got a look about you that you ain't happy bout it.”

You frown, placing your forehead against your knees. “No,” you mumble into the fabric of your skirt.

She lets out a plume of smoke. Silence settles between you before you work up the courage to speak again.

“When they came to your ranch… did they… did-” you swallow, stuttering as your voice cracks.

Sadie drops the cigarette, mashing it into the ground under her boot.

“Yeah.”

You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, sighing before your voice cracks again, “I… when we just got to Horseshoe - there was a house I was scopin’ a-and then… then an O’D-driscoll-” you start to sniffle as your vision clouds with tears.

Sadie does not meet your gaze, simply closing her eyes and breathing out her nose.

“And you're thinkin’ it's his.”

You nod, the tears slipping down your face. What a miserable excuse for an outlaw you are, weeping like a frail woman in front of someone who endured the same trauma.

She lets out a long, thoughtful breath, heavy with the weight of familiarity, “I know, better than most, that you ain't gonna listen to anyone, but y’know it's probably Arthur’s.”

You swallow, about to retort something back at her when she turns on her heel, her spurs jingling.

“You and he weren’t exactly subtle with what you were up to.” Her hand brushes your shoulder before she walks back toward the camp. You remain still, looking out over the lake with your arms wrapped around yourself.

“Best if you start lookin’ forward instead of lookin’ back. You’re only gonna find pain there.”

You look back toward her.

“Are you lookin’ forward?”

Sadie Adler turns halfway to look at you, her jaw set and eyes hard.

“No.”

You dream of blood. Of the overpowering richness and stifling warmth in the stale air of the tent. Of movement, people, murmuring voices, and hushed tones.

You dream of pain. You dream of being torn apart from the inside. You dream of screams, nearly inhumane, echoing in the tent.

You dream of Susan Grimshaw dabbing a damp rag over your head, a soft, pitying look on her face.

You dream of the women of camp surrounding you - of Abigail and Sadie, Tilly and Mary Beth. Karen, even Molly. Sadness, forlornness in their eyes.

Abigail holds a whimpering newborn in her arms, swaddled in a blanket.

The bundle is placed in your arms, and as you draw back the linen, the child’s features are revealed. Instead of Arthur’s dark honeyed hair and blue eyes, the babe has dark, dark hair and near-black eyes that blink up at you. Dark, cruel eyes that are nothing like your own.

Nothing like Arthur’s.

You rocket up in the cot, gasping, holding a hand to your breast to calm your racing heart. Your movement has awakened the other person in the tent, and Arthur shoots up from his bedroll on the ground, his head darting this way and that, looking for potential danger before realizing that you had been plagued by a nightmare.

“Sweetheart-” Arthur reaches toward your face to wipe the tears from your cheeks but you flinch and draw back further so that he cannot touch you.

“I just… I…” your voice stutters in the night, “P-Please don’t touch me.”

His hand retracts from between you, “Course, darlin’.”

You gather the thin blanket around you closer, refusing to make eye contact with the man who has crawled closer to the cot from where his bedroll lay spread out on the ground. “Why are you doin’ this?”

“Doin’ what?” Arthur says quietly as he pushes himself up, from his knees to sit at the very end of the cot, opposite where you have curled yourself.

“This.” You gesticulate to the distance between you, then to his bedroll on the floor, “You shouldn’t be sleepin’ on the ground. You’re far too high up in this gang to be doin’ that.”

“You’re pregnant. I c’n sleep anywhere, don’t need a bed.” Arthur says, running his thumb over his bruised knuckles, also not making eye contact with you.

“I ain’t pregnant with-” You begin, clenching your fists in the blanket, your voice faltering.

“You are. Don’t start with this - you remember how many times we was stupid.” Arthur looks up, clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes in a look of irritation before sighing, running his palm down his face against the exhaustion creeping in on him, “Look, sweetheart. I don’t know why you keep thinkin’ the baby’s his. We’ve been sleepin’ together for months.”

You turn your head away from him, setting your jaw. He doesn’t understand, how would he ever understand?

Arthur lets out a breath and moves from the floor up to sit at the opposite end of his old cot.

“But what if he is? What if this baby’s daddy is that O-”

“My daddy wasn't nothin’ but the man that made me.” He interjects, “Hosea and Dutch raised me more than my actual father did.”

You glance at the mugshot placed on the wagon in the corner of the tent. Lyle Morgan stares at you, with unrepentant eyes, as if he were mocking you from the grave.

“If…if-” You stutter, your eyes watering over again as you draw your knees awkwardly to your chest, your belly getting in the way, The strap of your chemise slips down your shoulder, “If this baby is born and y’ see it’s h-his-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Arthur’s voice raises a bit, and as he realizes it, he slides closer to you on the cot, and grasps one of your hands in his own, his large, calloused hand engulfing yours, “I’m gonna be this child’s pa. Me. I’m gonna be that for the babe, and I’m gonna be that for you.”

You don’t fight his touch. Your eyes water over as you tightly close them, “I don’t know why you’d want another man’s-”

His thumb tenderly swipes your cheek, dashing the tears cascading from your eyes, “Cause I want you, sweetheart. ‘Nd anythin’ you create, it’s gonna be from you, and I want that too.”

You can’t hold back the sob from your throat as you crumble forward in the cot, Arthur winds his arms around you. You breathe in the musk of him - of leather and tobacco and safety.

And in the dim silence of the night, you allow it, burying yourself into his embrace, crying into his collarbone, your swollen belly pressed against his ribcage.

#red dead redemption 2 #twolafic #arthur morgan smut #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #passerine

173 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

absolutely live for ur roommate!james could you maybe write one on him meeting some of readers friends for the first time or calling james to pick u up after a girls night 😇would love to see him finally feel “included” in our life like we are in his

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: alcohol

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

James is so absorbed in the football match on his phone that when there’s a tap on the window next to his face, he jolts halfway across the center console and squeaks like he’s twelve years old again.

You’re beaming outside the car. Your shoulders shake with quiet, un-self-conscious laughter, so it’s impossible for James to be any kind of upset. Still, he makes a show of huffing a little as his own smile spreads. He reaches over and opens his door.

“Sorry,” you say. You don’t look it, so he lets you off the hook for your over-apologizing.

“Who do you think would drive you home if I had a heart attack?” James asks. He’s somewhat breathless, either because of the scare or the easier-than-usual grin still fixed on your face.

You lean against the side of his car and roll your eyes. “Oh, your heart’s too healthy to be in danger of attacks.”

“What are you doing on this side of the car? You’re the passenger, you know.”

“Okay, listen.” You give him a very intentional look. It’s more eye contact than he’s used to from you, and it makes his guts go all twisty in a surprisingly nice way. “It’s completely up to you, of course, but I think I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

It clicks into place. “You’re drunk.”

“Not very.” Your grin is a short fall from impish. Your eyes sparkle. God help him. “But you’re about to be.”

James feels his eyebrows float up. “How do you figure?”

“Because I’ve come to collect you. If you want.”

“To collect me…where?”

“Inside,” you say, as though this should be obvious. You tip your head towards the restaurant. “We’ve just closed, and we have so much wine. Pleasepleaseplease, James, come in.”

“Okay.” He’s letting you tug him from his car before he knows what he’s agreed to, only that one please will always be enough to get whatever you want from him. “Alright, love, but doesn’t your manager mind that you’re drinking their wine?”

You let loose a bark of laughter, loud and sharp and totally unlike you. “Tom? Yeah, right.”

Tom, James learns quickly upon entering the rowdy atmosphere of your workplace after hours, is younger than the both of you, hardly old enough to serve alcohol and yet managing the restaurant. And the wine isn’t stolen, necessarily, but the fortunate leavings of a wealthy customer who bought more bottles than his table could handle and then left nearly all of them.

Everyone who’d been on the night shift is strewn about the empty restaurant. Servers and busboys and dishwashers all perched on stools, standing behind the bar, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on tables. You take James by the hand, first reclaiming the bottle of wine you’d evidently stored behind the host’s station and then leading him around the room to introduce him to various coworkers. His hand feels warm and tingly. You have an easy repartee and a million in-jokes with the servers, but even the kitchen staff seems to adore you. As they rightly should, James thinks. It’s obvious you’re as kind and considerate here as you are at home, and he feels a bit silly for not having been able to picture you in this place so clearly before now.

Art is working with you again tonight. It’s embarrassing, the warm wave of relief that James feels when he notices you don’t pay him any extra attention. He makes a mental note to extend his offer of a ride home more often. Every time your hand starts to slip from James’, you readjust your grip before he can even think of doing it himself. Suits him just fine; ever since your mugging incident, suddenly James is in this weird place where he always wants a hand on you.

You say his name, and then the lip of a bottle is being pushed against his lips.

“You haven’t had hardly any.” You look like you’re trying to pout, but your eyes are smiling.

James takes the bottle from you. He looks you in the eyes as he takes a sip as if to say, Happy? It’s barely enough to warm his throat. “I am still driving us home, you know.”

The pout is getting better. “I know, but I’m trying to be fun for you. You don’t have to drive us if you don’t want to! You’re always the one doing the nice things.”

“Oh, don’t.” His tone is fonder than he means for it to be, but luckily you’re too tipsy to mind. “You’re plenty fun. You do nice things for me all the time.”

“Yeah, but not enough to balance out.” You make your eyes big and pitiful. James feels fortunate this isn’t a skill you seem inclined to utilize sober. “Obviously you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but—Jamie, don’t hold back because of me, please.”

His stomach does an impressive flip. He doesn’t think you realize you’ve called him that, doubts you’d have done it under normal circumstances, but his nervous system cares not for rationalizations. He wants desperately to hear you say it again.

You beam as James lifts the bottle to his lips again, taking a few hearty gulps. You both end up walking home that night, but you wake even before James to go retrieve his car in the morning.

1K notes · View notes

okay-j-hannah · 3 months

Text

Part 5: Mieczyslaw

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 13k

Warnings: series rewrite, season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, Stiles pining, eventual NSFW, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, fainting

Request: This just came from my own head 😊

A/N: A little more history of the Reader in this one - I honestly love her family's backstory

Part 4: Ollie's Catnip

Part 5: Mieczyslaw {You Are Here}

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar

The hospital was quiet that evening. You were assigned to the long-term care floor and spent long hours updating patient files and making your rounds. Checking vitals, refilling water bottles, adjusting patients with bed sores, and administering medication at the right times.

It was the perfect distraction. You would be missing the lacrosse game that night, missing the first game with Scott being co-captain and Stiles being first line.

You’d be missing Andrew and his dimpled grin.

Instead of focusing on that the rest of the night, you call Lydia who had texted you an SOS.

“What do you mean you’re done?”

“I mean, he sent me a pathetic text asking for his house key back. The loser is so down in the dumps that he doesn’t think he deserves me, which is right, of course.”

You hold the phone with your shoulder and start typing notes into a patient file, “I’m sorry, Lyds. Breakups suck.”

“He’s become such an asshole recently. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. But good riddance. I needed to climb the social food chain anyway. He’s been lacking in the lacrosse category.”

“Sounds like you’re handling it surprisingly well.”

“I’m completely over him. Only took a few minutes… seconds actually.”

You smile, “Yeah, you barely sound upset over it.”

She can hear your sarcasm, “Did you hear that Allison is still going to the game? Her dad and aunt are going too.”

“That’s weird,” you frown, “I wonder why.” With the Argents being hunters… you wonder how much they know about the number of werewolves in town.

“You’re still on shift tonight?”

“Yes, right where I want to be. The perfect excuse to miss the game.” You upload another patient file and wave to another night nurse leaving for her break. It was just you and one other nurse on the floor – a redhead named Jennifer.

“Anything exciting happening?” she asks in a huff, upset that the attention was no longer on her dilemma.

“Nope, I’m working the long-term floor. Everyone here is mostly in recovery or stuck in their beds. It’s usually pretty quiet at night, which is why there’s less staff.”

“Fascinating,” Lydia says quickly, “Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’m going to sit with Allison and scope out my next boyfriend.” She laughs before adding, “Don’t worry, Andrew is off the table.”

You scoff, “Yeah, thanks. Have fun.” And you slide your phone back into your scrubs pocket.

The next half hour was relatively quiet, just two call buttons going off. The rest of your time was spent making your rounds and completing chores. That is until a pair of sneakers comes walking down the hallway.

“Yeah, I said I can’t find her.”

You stand to confront the foreign male voice that was definitely intruding past visiting hours, only to find Stiles on the phone. He was getting snippy with whoever he was talking to, “Hey, listen here wolfman – the only reason I’m harboring your fugitive ass is because you saved (Y/N)’s life last full moon, got it? I don’t owe you any more favors.”

“What the hell?” you say, catching his attention, “Don’t you have a lacrosse game to get to, hotshot?”

In a few seconds you can see a range of emotions flickering through his face: confusion, happiness, worry, and something in the way he looks at your scrubs. “Hi, (Y/N).”

You walk around the nurses station and fold your arms, “Care to answer my question?”

He gives you a goofy side smile, “You’re talking to me.”

“Yes, Stiles,” you fight the immediate grin that wants to envelop your face. “What are you doing here?”

He leans into the phone for a second, “Uh… is there a Jennifer working here?”

“She’s the on call nurse tonight, why?” you pop a hip, arms still tightly crossed.

“What about Melissa?” he asks, walking down the hall and to a room. He speaks to the phone again, “Yeah, well, he’s not here either.”

“Who are you talking to?” you ask exasperatedly, “Stiles, you can’t be here past visiting hours. Would you please…”

“He’s not here. He’s gone, Derek.”

Your jaw drops, “The fugitive you’re harboring is Derek?”

He looks to you, “Yeah, the rest of the town doesn’t know he’s innocent because it’s actually a psycho Alpha werewolf that’s killing everyone,” he says to you. “You sure Melissa isn’t here?”

You hold your hands up, “I’m not answering anymore of your questions until you tell me what’s going on.”

Suddenly you can hear the frantic voice of Derek over the phone and Stiles has a look of instant terror. It sets you on edge when a mysterious man stands at the corner of the hall; it was as if he had appeared out of thin air.

Half his face is covered in burn scars and after a second thought you realize that it’s Peter Hale – the long-term resident of the floor. Your eyes widen at the sight of him standing without his wheelchair and Stiles takes a few steps in your direction.

“You must be Stiles,” Peter says in an eerily calm tone. He’s barely smiling as he nods in your direction, “Hello, (Y/N). It’s nice to finally be able to speak to you.”

Stiles drops his hand holding the phone, walking back until he feels you near him. He reaches behind him and takes hold of your arm. Your instinct is to press yourself closer into his back, “Is that…?”

“He’s the Alpha,” Stiles mutters, whipping his head to the side at the newcomer.

“Jennifer!” you say, “We have a situation with…”

The redheaded nurse holds her head high, “Shut up!”

Your mouth clamps shut – how many people are in on this? Stiles, in his usual fashion, can’t stay quiet for long.

“You and… him? You’re his… and he’s the…” Stiles is shielding you with his body at this point. “Oh my god, we’re gonna die. We’re gonna die.”

You jab a finger into his spine, silencing him. “This is not how I’m supposed to die.”

But with an elbow to the face, Jennifer falls to the floor and Derek takes her place. You forget momentarily how tall, dark, and handsome he is. Peter speaks again with that same calm, menacing tone.

“That’s not nice. She’s my nurse.”

You start to pull Stiles against you, taking you both behind the nurses station.

“She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people.”

Peter makes his way over, “You think I killed Laura on purpose? One of my own family?”

A growl ripples from Derek’s throat, fangs appearing from his open mouth. Blue eyes glowing with strange power, he bounds for the attack. You’re paralyzed at seeing the action up close.

“Holy shi…”

Stiles drags you to the floor, doggy-paddling across the tile like a swimmer. You army crawl beside him as Peter and Derek start to throw each other against the hospital walls. Bits of plaster and plastic side railing break away easily.

“Okay,” you say, coughing as you breathe in some plaster dust, “I believe you now. I really believe you.”

“Is that why you haven’t been talking to me or Scott?” Stiles yells over the growling werewolves. “Scott could have easily proven werewolves existed if you just asked him to show himself.”

They continue their sliding movements across the station and to the next hall, the sound of breaking glass loud behind you. “No, I stopped talking to you because I needed a break after hearing the truth. It’s a lot to think about when you realize the whole freaking town has lore in supernatural entities that aren’t just make believe… they’re actual fucking werewolves!” You swipe an arm across the tile and shove his legs out of the way to reach his side. “I needed time to cope with the sudden shift in what I knew to be reality.”

“Understandable,” he pants, tongue sticking out, “I just wish we could’ve helped you cope instead of you just shutting us out.”

“Like I said… I wasn’t really thinking!”

“And of course it was the same night as Scott forcing a kiss on you and trying to kill you in your own home…”

“Shut the hell up, Stilinski! Bigger problems at hand!” The werewolves were moving to a different patient room to continue their fight. You gesture to the end of the hall, “The emergency exit is there. We just have to get there and down the stairs. We can call 911 when we’re outside.”

Stiles agrees, watching you with a different panic, “How’s your heart?”

“If anything happens we’re in a hospital,” you say frankly, “Come on.” You lead the way as the fighting becomes quieter.

Stiles admires you from behind, standing to run the last few feet. You slam into the door and guide the way down the many flights of stairs. Stiles is jumping whole steps and crashing into the walls.

Your lungs start to fight for breath by the time you reach the bottom, Stiles tripping over the last step and falling to his knees beside you.

“Does… Does the Alpha have control…” you pant, holding a stitch in your side, “… over Derek?”

Stiles breathes dramatically, his face scrunching up in a funny way. “I wouldn’t be surprised. He might be forcing Derek onto his side right now with some crazy alpha mind control.”

You stumble toward the exit, shoving it open to a gust of chilly night air. You lean against the hospital wall, hands on your hips. Stiles follows, pulling out his car keys.

“Can you make it to the jeep?”

“If I say no would you carry me?”

He shrugs, pulling a face, “No promises. I could probably swing a piggy-back ride.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” you say, bending down to put your head between your knees. It was routine when you were out of breath and starting to feel lightheaded. Your hands lay flat on the concrete, your mind focusing on how cold and gritty it feels under your fingers. You listen to the crickets and the wind whistling through trees. You smell the honey sweet rain from Stiles.

A large warm hand spreads against your back, rubbing up and down your spine.

You feel the air flood your lungs, “Have you called the police yet?”

“I told them there was a possible break-in and a nurse got knocked out,” he says, “They’ll be here soon.”

You take a few deep breaths, soothed by Stiles’ hand. “I have to wait for the police.” You sit up and Stiles retreats a few feet. The action makes you consider him for a few seconds. “I’m not mad at you or Scott. I just… I needed some distance while I tried to figure things out.”

There’s a bob in Stiles’ throat, “And… have you figured things out?”

You screw up your lips in thought, “I need to talk to Scott first.”

Stiles nods vigorously, hope lighting his eyes. “Yeah, yeah – for sure. Let’s go find him now, I’m sure the lacrosse game is almost over.”

A flash of pity is in your face, “You missed your first game.”

“Yeah, well…” he waves a hand, extending it to help you to your feet. “I had a couple more important things to tackle tonight.”

“Won’t your dad be disappointed?”

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs, walking to the passenger side of the jeep, “But if the pinkeye epidemic continues then I’m still first line for the time being!”

You giggle, sliding into the jeep, “I’ll pray for the conjunctivitis.” With the heater still broken, you’re grateful you chose a long-sleeve undershirt for your scrubs. It took a few minutes for you to call your boss and explain the situation.

The police were on their way, and you were meant to stay to give a witness statement. It would also have been irresponsible to leave your patients in their time of need. Choosing to wait in the jeep was just common sense seeing as there were two werewolves having a row upstairs.

“Do you think Derek is okay?” you look out the window.

Stiles was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, “He’s fine. Peter will probably try to get him under his control.”

“Then what?”

“He’ll keep trying to get Scott into his pack.” Stiles leans more against the door to get a better look at you. “So we have some catching up to do.”

“Like what?” you smile.

He frowns, picking at his fingers, “I don’t know… like how Jackson broke up with Lydia.”

“Yeah,” you grimace, “Lydia only just told me about the breakup tonight.”

Stiles blows air between his lips, “Jackson always has another agenda. He’s been black mailing Scott because he wants the werewolf bite.”

“You’re kidding,” you say, “How did he find out about the supernatural?”

“I don’t know! He hasn’t been talking to anyone, not even Danny.”

You lean against the door to match Stiles’ stance, “Well, I know Lydia has said he’s never been the same since Scott outperformed him. He’s been slipping ever since.” You rub at your eyes, “He doesn’t talk to me much, and now it’s awkward between him and Lydia.”

“There’s also the news that the Argents know about a second beta werewolf.” At your look of confusion, he continues, “They know there’s an alpha and they know about Derek. They’ve realized that there’s a second werewolf and they’re trying to figure out who it is.”

“They being Allison’s dad and aunt?”

Stiles nods, “They have been scouting ever since – they think it might be a teenager.”

Your head perks up, “Lydia said Allison’s family was going to be at the game tonight. I bet they’re looking for clues as to who could be the other werewolf.”

“Let’s just hope they don’t suspect Scott.”

Stiles continues to pick at his nails, looking at them instead of you. “I’ve also heard that you might be going on a date with a certain potential lacrosse boyfriend…?”

You fight a smile, “Andrew asked me out.”

“And you said?”

“Yes!” you laugh, “I’ve been waiting for him to ask since I started working with Coach on the lacrosse field.” You miss the bitterness in Stiles’ face; he was trying to hide it with his downcast gaze.

A police siren could be heard down the highway. Stiles clears his throat, “Is he going to ask you to the winter formal?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, tickled at the thought, “But that’s still a couple weeks away.”

“Do you want him to?” Stiles finally looks at you, straining to keep the hurt he feels at bay. The tightness of his chest was smothered by the boiling jealousy in his stomach. He hates the way you sound doting on Andrew. And he hates himself for being jealous over something he shouldn’t be mad about.

You made your choice and Andrew is a good guy.

“I’m not sure. He doesn’t know about my heart and a formal dance would be prime time for it to give out.” You take a deep breath, “I’d rather not spoil an evening like that.”

Stiles nods and considers you, “I guess you just need to go with someone that knows how to calm you. That way you don’t need to worry.”

It was suddenly tense for a few seconds while the police cars come closer to the hospital. You put a hand on the door handle and say, “You should probably get out of here so your dad doesn’t overhear why you might not be at the game. Police radios, you know…”

“Right,” Stiles says, “Let me know if anything comes up. I’m going to find Scott and tell him about our newly identified alpha.”

~~~

The next few days felt a little less hostile as the friend group settles into a new norm. Jackson is still moseying up to Allison, who is still apologizing on behalf of Scott for the impromptu kissing. You console her in that Scott wasn’t himself that day.

Allison was also venturing into new hobbies to keep her mind off things. She had taken to practicing archery in the woods, sometimes taking you or Lydia with her.

Jackson was talking in angry whispers to Scott and Stiles more often. You know it has something to do with seeking the werewolf curse.

As for yourself, you were working on your science project implanting E.coli in varying meats and cooking them, swabbing each as you go and putting samples in petri dishes. They were currently incubating in the chemistry lab while you walk down the hall with Andrew.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” you say, eyeing the way Andrew held your books for you.

“Hey, now we’re going to state,” he says, “You can come to that game.”

You smile, almost to English, “I’ll bring my pom-poms and megaphone.”

Andrew laughs, handing back your books for class, “I won’t say no to a little cheerleading outfit.” He winks at you and a warm blush envelops both your faces.

“I’ll see you later,” you say.

Walking into class you’re quick to notice Scott and Stiles staring at you (Stiles with a little more of a frown). You choose to sit in front of Scott, taking any opportunity for Allison to be near him.

“(Y/N)…” he starts with hesitance, “Stiles told me you’re talking again.”

You don’t turn around at first, “And?”

He leans forward across the desk, and you can hear his whisper over your shoulder. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to apologize to you this last week and… nothing seems good enough. After you avoided me and everything, I thought I lost my chance.” He sighs and you can feel it in your hair. “(Y/N), I am so so sorry. I’m sorry for attacking you – I’m sorry for forcing a kiss on you – I’m sorry for scaring you – and I’m sorry for trying to kill you.”

Very slowly you pivot in your chair to look at him.

Those puppy-dog eyes were back full force. Those were Scott’s eyes – not the dark, menacing look they had on the full moon. You knew the difference was night and day. The real Scott McCall would never do those things if he was in full control.

“I feel terrible,” he continues, afraid at your persistent silence. “I’m an awful friend and I should have told you the truth sooner. Maybe you would have been more prepared for the full moon like Stiles.”

You blink, “Have you apologized to Allison?”

“Well, I tried…” he scratches at his shaggy head, adding to his puppy-dog look. “She was shooting arrows in the forest with Lydia yesterday… and I needed to return a necklace of hers.”

“You mean you were stalking her?”

“The details are a little foggy,” he says quickly, “I might’ve scared her and she tazed me.”

Stiles snorts from beside Scott and you have to stop yourself from losing your composure. “She’s picked up a few things since breaking up with you.”

“I noticed,” he says lowly. “Anyway, I tried to apologize, and I think it got to her a little. She’s still mad, but I think she might forgive me eventually.”

“I told you,” you say with a slight smile. It gives Scott hope.

“And what about you?” his dark brown eyes are wide with anxiety.

You share a look with Stiles, who shrugs. “I forgive you.”

Scott sighs, his head falling into his arms on the desk. “Thank god. I promise, (Y/N), I didn’t mean to do any of those things. The full moon had me wired and it was like something else was controlling my body.”

“It’s okay, Scott. I did a lot of thinking while taking a break.” You look between Scott and Stiles as the tardy bell rings. “And I don’t think I can be involved with all this werewolf stuff.”

Stiles is nearly out of his chair with how he reacts. “What do you mean?” his desk squeaks terribly against the tile floor.

“I mean, I’d like to still be friends with you guys…”

An awful needle like puncture was screwing its way through Stiles’ chest. Friends.

“… but I don’t really want to be included in any werewolf business or late night investigations or almost being killed – which has happened to me about three times now since starting school.”

“Werewolf business is a very regular part of my life,” Scott says with a disbelieving laugh.

You nod, “I get it, I just mean I’d love to hang out or go to a party sometime, but I can’t be involved with anything else related to the alpha situation.”

Stiles was having trouble swallowing as Scott continues, “Like it or not, (Y/N) – you’re kind of a part of my pack. The pack that the Alpha wants me to get rid of.”

“Then… I’m resigning from the pack,” you shrug half-heartedly.

Stiles’ jaw nearly hits the floor as the teacher snaps at the three of you for talking. There is about three minutes of quiet as the teacher explains the upcoming book report that you’ve already finished on Sense and Sensibility.

After that you receive a group text from both Scott and Stiles.

Stiles: You’re just unfriending the pack?!

(Y/N): Can’t I do that and still be friendly?

Stiles: No

Scott: Of course you can. We just don’t get why

You raise your hand and share what stance you took on the book report requirements. You wrote an analytical piece on the personalities of two sisters: Elenor being all sense and Marianne being all sensibility.

The teacher looks pleased and asks for more volunteers. You’re now covered to keep texting.

(Y/N): Tell you later

Scott: Ok

Stiles: Tell us now

You tuck your phone away and feel it buzz with a few more messages before going quiet. You don’t mean for it to be such a shock. You just knew that the more stress you had the more likely you’d have a fainting episode with your heart condition. That would lead to more heart damage and an end that you want to prolong as much as possible.

Being surrounded by high stress werewolf situations was going to be the death of you.

You are quick to leave the classroom at the bell and the boys weren’t far behind.

“Hey,” Stiles grabs your shoulder, slowing you down. “Explain.”

Scott holds his backpack straps, awkward but less demanding on hearing your explanation.

“It’s not a good idea for me to be around a lot of stress,” you sigh, “You know… because of my heart.”

Both boys purse their lips and share a look. Scott is quiet when he asks, “Because you have a tachee-heart?”

You and Stiles both say, “Tachycardia?” You laugh and continue, “Yes. My heartbeat is already irregular and if I do anything to add to it… it’s bad news bears.”

“Care to expand on what these bad news bears are?” Stiles asks irritably.

“That’s a talk for another day,” you say quickly, leading the way to your next class. “Just know that the more my heart struggles the worse off I’ll be.”

“But we can help you,” Stiles says, pressing into your shoulder as you all walk down the hallway. “We can calm you down if that happens.” I can calm you down.

You sigh, “Not always. It can be random and persistent.” You stop outside the door of your next class. “This isn’t me saying we can’t be friends, just… I want to avoid any werewolfy scenarios that might involve near death and/or general terror.”

You leave Scott and Stiles to contemplate out in the hallway. Shoulders sagging, Scott groans, “This werewolf thing is ruining my life.”

“Yeah, and mine.” Stiles broods at the classroom door, taking a second to realize what he said and turning to the mild anger on Scott’s face. “What? I’m the best friend – I am legally bound to whatever misery you experience.”

“All the new friends I’ve made are literally being pushed away because of this curse,” Scott rubs hard at his face, “And it’s ruined my love life, not to mention my lifespan. Hunters are basically knocking down my front door!”

“Yeah, it’s really putting a damper on my love life too.” Stiles mumbles to himself, “I really thought I had a shot with her.”

Scott shoves his friend, “Even after all her talk about Andrew?”

Stiles scowls, “That’s just a silly crush.”

“And what she feels for you is… what exactly?”

“Hidden feelings that I will unlock one day for her to realize that I am the perfect guy for her…” he licks his lips, wincing, “… despite the clumsiness, sarcasm, and general idiocy.”

Scott laughs, “Yeah, she’s really missing out.”

“Hey!” he rams into Scott as they walk towards their next class. “I really like her, Scott. Like… I like her, like her.”

“I know, Loverboy.”

“She’s all I can think about, and I know I’m just a pathetic friend of hers, but I’m hopeless, Scott! Completely hopeless.”

Scott gives him a look, “Are you sure you’re not stalking her?”

“In a broad sense of the term,” Stiles shrugs, “I’ve never felt this comfortable around a girl before. I’ve never felt this way about any girl.”

“You’ve got it bad,” Scott sighs, “I know the feeling well.”

~~~

You walk through the aisles of computers to sit near the back beside a hunched figure. He keeps his head down even as you watch his eyes dart to see who you are. If anything it makes him more shy, his shoulders drawing in as if he were trying to make himself as small as possible.

You sling your backpack onto the ground and ignore the random text Stiles sent you about the history of the male circumcision. He was always sending you the most out-of-pocket things.

“Hey,” you smile at the quiet boy, “My name’s (Y/N)…” He turns his head a little more and you instantly recognize him as one of the benchwarmers on the lacrosse team, “… and you’re Isaac, right?”

His blue eyes seem to warm at your recognition, “Yeah, Isaac Lahey,” he clears his throat, “I uh…”

“You play lacrosse!” your smile widens, “I didn’t realize we had computer science together.”

“Play is a strong word,” he says with a hint of a smile. “I sort of keep to myself.”

You lean on your elbow, considering him as he fidgets under your gaze. “I think the last time we talked was when I was passing out permission slips for that spring retreat Coach was talking about.”

Isaac nods his head, still bowing like he was trying to hide behind his computer screen. “I don’t talk much.”

“You didn’t bring back your permission slip if I remember correctly.”

“No,” he clears his throat again, finding it hard to swallow. “My dad needs me to stay home.”

“Even for just a weekend?” your brows knit.

He licks his lips, “He needs help at work and… I’m the only one around to do it.”

“Shame,” you mutter, “I’d like to have seen you there. Maybe we could’ve roasted marshmallows together and tossed Coach’s whistle in the lake.”

His lips upturn a little more, “You’re going on the retreat?”

“I don’t think the Coach can survive without me,” you stifle a laugh, “Besides I’m the only one who knows anything about the retreat. He probably couldn’t drive a single one of you up there.” You nudge your arm into his, “You should ask your dad again, see if he’ll change his mind.”

Isaac has an emotion you can’t gauge flash across his eyes. “Maybe.” He nods and hides that smile you’re trying to pull out of him. “I wouldn’t mind messing with Coach, though.”

“We could hide his energy drinks or put dye in his toothpaste,” you muse, “Make his teeth blue for a day.”

“Or we could put a squirrel in his cabin,” Isaac says with a little more enthusiasm, “Or maybe we could hide his shaving kit and see what kind of beard he can grow.”

You snort, “I bet it’s as white as an old mans.”

“It’s because all us kids give him gray hairs,” Isaac laughs, smiling wide.

You laugh along, suddenly struck with his change of demeanor. “You have a great smile, Isaac,” you say, “It looks good on you.”

A rush of red fills his cheeks, unable to stop smiling now. He isn’t hunched behind his computer anymore, “Thank you.”

The teacher was about ready to throttle you two for giggling over her talking. You nudge Isaac again with your arm, putting a finger to your lips.

~~~

The next day you’re being dropped off at the Argent residence for a ‘family dinner.’ Allison has been complaining about how often her dad talks about meeting you. It was odd not having met them – almost every parent in town knew who you were.

That was the consequence of a small town with two working parents in the emergency fields. Most adults knew that they had to leave at the drop of a dime if your heart was ever in trouble.

Hence the anxiety making your fingers pull on your sleeves.

“(Y/N)!” Allison greets, pulling you into a hug, “I’m so sorry for this,” she whispers.

You whisper back, “Don’t be.” But a flash of fear crosses your face when the door widens to reveal a blue-eyed, middle-aged man. “Mr. Argent?”

“(Y/N),” he extends a hand, eyes never blinking as he probes you, “We finally meet.” He shakes your hand firmly, “My wife and daughter have only had good things to say.”

And my friends have told me about your penchant for shooting arrows at teenage boys. “Nice to meet you.” You follow the family inside and to the dining room. “I hope you don’t mind…”

In your free hand was a small container of peanut butter brownies you had made earlier that day. Chris Argent looks pleased when he inspects the contents, “How wonderful – you didn’t have to.”

“I know,” you say, handing the dessert to Allison to plate. The Argents were able to provide for themselves, plus extra.

Living on the other side of town, the Argent residence was much more lavish than what you were used to. It created a very unfortunate divide between the teenagers. An invisible line that was rarely mentioned, but nonetheless present.

Over in these neighborhoods, Lydia, Allison, and Jackson lived with rich crown moldings, nice cars, high ceilings, and antique furniture. More in the valley, you, Stiles, and Scott lived in modest homes with hand-me-down items and a small growing pile of bills.

With one check you bet the Argents could take away your family’s medical debt.

“Your home is lovely as always,” you say, admiring the chandelier in the dining room. “And dinner smells amazing.”

“Not my doing,” a dirty blonde says with a crisp laugh. A near forced laugh as her less piercing blue eyes meet yours. She assesses you with something a little colder than Chris. “Hello, I’m Kate, and I have no talent for cooking.”

You give a wave across the table, instantly wary of her. Allison pops up beside you, “That’s my aunt I told you about.” She looks to Kate as she sits, “(Y/N) is an amazing cook.”

Kate nods, still scrutinizing you with her gaze. “What else are you good at, (Y/N)?”

“Reading,” you say instantly, sharing a laugh with Allison. “I keep to myself mostly.”

With the table set, the Argent family sits to enjoy the meal. Victoria Argent, whom you’ve met the few times you’ve been out with Allison, sat with her husband.

“So, (Y/N), tell us a little more about yourself,” Chris says, spearing asparagus with his fork. “You’re close with our daughter but we know almost nothing about you.”

You try to swallow your roast chicken quickly as Allison scolds her father. “I told you not to interrogate her,” she leans closer to you, “He doesn’t really have a ‘pleasant conversation’ option in his vernacular.”

“It’s alright,” you say with a wave, grabbing a nice cloth napkin to dab at your mouth. “My parents like to know who I’m friends with too.”

“You know Scott and Jackson, correct?” Kate digs into her chicken with a knife.

“Yes, we’re all friends. I also am a teacher assistant for Coach Finstock, so I see them at lacrosse a lot.”

Chris considers you, “But you weren’t at the last lacrosse game?”

“No, I work at the hospital as a medical assistant and I picked up a shift that night,” you take a sip of your water. How much information was too much information to give?

Kate tilts her head in your direction, “Wasn’t there a break-in at the hospital that night?”

You nod slowly, “Yeah, someone got into an altercation past visiting hours. I don’t know who but when I went to investigate the noise, there was a lot of broken glass and cracks in the walls. Thank goodness none of the patients were harmed.”

Chris takes his time cutting his meal into pieces, “That sounds terrible. What did you do?”

“I called the police, checked on my residents, and ran outside to meet the cops.” You take a small bite of food, “They didn’t find anything besides the damage.”

“Cameras?” Kate questions.

You shake your head, “My co-workers said that they had been damaged as well. Wiped clean or lost… I don’t know exactly.”

Chris seems satisfied for the time being, “Well, I’m glad you got out safely, whatever it was.”

Kate, on the other hand, seems to perk with interest, “I hear you’ve had a run-in with danger a couple times this year.” At your look of confusion, she nods toward your collar. “The attack on the video store, I mean.” She barely moves a centimeter as she stares you down, “Allison told me you had gotten clawed pretty bad.”

You spot the wince in Allison’s brow. “I did get attacked that night,” you wipe at your mouth again. “It was pretty bad for a while, infected and everything. But I’m okay now.”

Kate was persistent, “Must have left a pretty gnarly scar.” Her eyebrows lift as if expecting you to reveal your shoulder. She was scolded by her niece.

“It’s still a little pink, but that’ll go away with time,” you say as nonchalantly as possible. “I’d say it makes me look a little cooler than I am.” You shift the collar of your shirt an inch to reveal the tail end of three massive claw marks, another curling around your arm. It was your turn to gauge the reaction of the Argents.

Chris and Kate share a look and you clear your throat in response. Are you making yourself a possible werewolf suspect?

“And what do you guys do for work?” you say, steering the conversation off yourself. “Allison says that you’re a weapons dealer?”

Chris pours himself more water, “That’s right. We have quite the collection if you’re interested.”

You shake your head quickly, “I’m not really built for that. I enjoy my books and my lazy cat sleeping in my lap as I read.”

He nods, hopefully in a sign of respect. “That’s why Kate is here. She deals in weaponry as well – a very skilled hunter.”

She raises her glass, “The art of the kill. I needed my brother’s expertise on a few pieces for my latest hunt.”

“What do you hunt?” you say innocently.

“Big game predators,” she says, cold eyes locked on you. “Cougars, bears, wolves.”

You almost smirk. These people are hiding in plain sight.

“My mom is a buyer for a store in San Fransico,” Allison steers the conversation even more. “Right, mom?”

Victoria, already done with her meal and leaning back in her chair, replies, “Yes, it’s a charming little boutique. I also teach math at a boarding school for boys on the side.”

You nod, “Why math?”

“Strategy,” she says flatly. “Equations and probabilities. I enjoy the art of stratagem.”

That was slightly off putting as well. Did these people know how to be subtle? How had Allison gone this long without knowing her family history?

“And your parents are…?” Victoria continues.

You smile, “My mom works behind the desk at the police station – taking and directing calls. My dad works at the firehouse.”

“You must hear everything that goes on around here,” Chris smirks.

“Only when I ask,” you say, “And that’s considering nothing wild has happened in Beacon Hills for years…”

Kate leans back in her chair as well, crossing her arms in contemplation. “Have you lived here your whole life?”

“Yes,” you say, pushing your plate away, “Almost since birth.”

“Where did you live before?” Chris asks.

He might be intimidating, but you enjoy talking to him much more than Kate. “My parents lived in Palo Alto when I was born. We had a nice house and my mom worked security at Stanford University. My dad actually met her at the San Francisco Bay. He was a lifeguard before he was a firefighter, and he watched the swimmers at Keller Beach and Berkeley Marina.” You smile a sweet smile, “She kept coming back to those places to see him… even pretended to drown once for a kiss.”

“Must be a fan of The Sandlot,” Allison snickers, enjoying hearing you talk more than her family.

“So why make the move to Beacon Hills?” Kate asks, arms still tightly wound.

Your smile falls a little, “I was born with a congenital heart defect. The medical bills and surgeries became too much… and we had to downgrade.”

Allison puts a hand on your leg beneath the table. Chris sends a piercing look to his sister and mutters, “I’m sorry, (Y/N) – I didn’t know you were sick.”

“Still am,” you say with mock cheerfulness, holding your water glass with two hands to give yourself something to focus on. “Heart problems are persistent. We try to keep it as discreet as possible.”

He nods, looking at you with a different air of likeness. “It sounds like you have a wonderful family.”

“I do,” you say fast, “Thank you.”

They move on to the brownies you brought as a means to change the subject. Victoria hums her appreciation, “These are delicious, did you put caramel in here too?”

“Caramel is one of the greatest inventions of all time and deserves to be incorporated into as many sweets as possible,” you laugh, “Of course I put caramel in them.”

The table laughs as you eat, feeling a little stripped bare after revealing so much about yourself. As Allison said, it did feel more like an interrogation rather than a pleasant family meal. You were quick to text the boys as you leave the residence.

“My place in ten minutes. I have an Argent update.” You smile as you add, “… and leftover brownies.”

Allison was kind enough to drive you home, apologizing the entire way. “My dad wasn’t as brazen as usual, but my aunt Kate?” she rolls her eyes, “I can’t believe how much she was grilling you.”

“You have a protective family,” you shrug, “So do I.”

“Your parents have a good reason to be extra protective of you,” she retorts, “My family is just nosy and suspicious and… I don’t know, my aunt and dad have been a little tense with each other this visit. They usually get along so well.”

“How much longer is your aunt staying here?” you ask, holding your container of leftover brownies.

Allison knits her brow in thought, “I’m not sure. She says she’s getting ready for another big hunt and just needs supplies and my dad’s advice. But I don’t know… sometimes I feel like she isn’t telling me everything.”

You thank Allison for the ride and the invitation to dinner. You promise to give her an update on your date with Andrew that weekend, and she drives off. Entering your house was a breath of fresh air.

Oliver trots to your side, his furry underbelly swaying side to side before you scoop him up and kiss his head. He purrs instantly.

“How was dinner?” your mom asks, sitting at the dining table with little potted plants in front of her. She was trying to grow herbs from seeds and the lavender was not doing so well.

“It was fine,” you kick off your shoes, “Her family is a little interrogative.”

Tom walks in with his usual cola, no doubt with a few ounces of whiskey poured in. “I knew they were a little tense, especially after that Chris guy shot the mountain lion at parent teacher conferences.”

You scratch under Ollie’s chin, “It was still nice, but I would watch out for that Kate Argent. She scares me a little.” You sit at the table and watch your mom preen the little sprouts of eucalyptus and rosemary. “Oh, I also invited Scott and Stiles over, if that’s okay.”

Tom folds his arms, making them look massive beneath his firehouse flannel. “I thought you liked that Andrew guy.”

“I can like a guy and be friends with other guys, dad,” you snicker, “I’m just going to take my medicine real quick, will you send them up when they get here?”

Your mom waves you off, adding some water to her seedlings, “Leave me one of those brownies, would you?”

A minute later, and having taken all your prescription meds, there’s a howling laugh coming from downstairs. You move to the foot of the stairs to see Stiles beaming and your dad wiping his eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tom says, “Stilinski here was just telling me about a police fiasco with a red tricycle and a klepto.”

You look puzzled as Stiles scratches at the back of his head, “Yeah, I might’ve stolen some already stolen items from evidence when I was a kid. I was the prime suspect for about three days with all the stuff in my possession.”

“And at five years old,” your dad laughs, downing his drink.

“I really wanted the tricycle!” Stiles retorts, “It was my first bike.”

Tom shakes his head, “Learning to pedal on stolen property.”

Scott pulls on his friend, “It was nice talking to you guys.”

“Of course, sweetie,” your mom says, “Now not too late, you still have school tomorrow.”

Walking up the stairs (Stiles tripping over at least two of the steps) you lead the boys into your room, Oliver already on your bed.

“Hey, buddy…” Stiles gets on his knees and crawls to the edge of the bed, “How’s the fuzz ball?”

Ollie perks his ears and blinks slowly at Stiles, bowing his head for a pet. Though upon Scott’s arrival, the cat sets his ears back and hisses.

“What the…” you mutter, watching your cat growl low in his throat and dart to leave the bedroom. “He’s never acted like that before.”

Scott looks guilty, “Well, I am part dog and… I did break into your house as a werewolf not too long ago.”

Your lips make a thin line, “Right. Cats and dogs don’t always get along.” You walk to your bed, flicking at Stiles’ head as you sit down, “Do you guys want a brownie? They’re leftover from my dinner with the Argents.”

Stiles’ greedy fingers dive for the plastic container while Scott shoves his hands in his pockets. “You had dinner at their house?”

You relay some of the conversation you had. The mysterious penchant for weapons and hunting big game predators. The interrogative questions on the hospital break-in and your involvement with Scott and Jackson. The request to see the claw marks on your shoulder.

“Do they think you might be the second beta too?” Scott asks with a tense line between his eyebrows. Stiles was too busy eating his third brownie.

“Maybe… do they think a scratch could turn you?”

“That’s what Derek said,” Scott swallows hard, “He told us a deep enough alpha scratch might give you the curse. The Argents might have the same theory.” He smacks his forehead, “Which is why they’re suspicious of Jackson. He has those claw marks in his neck from Derek.”

You frown, “And they don’t know they’re from Derek and not the Alpha.”

“But they do know your scars are from the Alpha,” Scott mutters worriedly, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they do a follow-up on you.”

“But after I told them about my heart condition, they seemed to back off. At least Chris did.”

You relay the conversation that you had about your parents meeting in Palo Alto and the move to Beacon Hills because of your heart. You remember the likeness Chris Argent had in his voice as he expressed his apologies for your sickness.

“If you’re sick then you couldn’t have the curse,” Scott mumbles, picking at his chin. “Werewolves heal really fast unless the wound is supernatural too.”

Stiles is licking his fingers when he suddenly blurts, “Do you think if you were a werewolf your heart would be cured?”

You shrug, finding the amount of brownie left on Stiles’ face amusing. “I don’t really want to find out. Anyway, I knew you guys would probably want to know.”

“Still not keen on all this werewolf business?” Stiles asks.

“I’m just trying to protect myself.” You sit on the bed, Stiles on the ground and leaning against the mattress. He’s looking up at you with his brown eyes, fizzing with warmth like cola and whiskey. “It’s not that I don’t want to investigate with you guys. I just worry what it’ll do to my heart.”

You laugh and point at your own face, “You’ve got chocolate all over your mouth.”

Stiles is quick to rub his mouth across his shirt sleeves, “Those brownies were just too damn good.” There was still a smudge at the corner of his lips.

“Maybe if you swallowed between bites…” you move your fingers to his face, lifting his chin to look up at you. He’s frozen as you move your thumb to the corner of his mouth and wipe down and under his bottom lip.

Eyes wide and imploring as they look up at you. He’s all sweet innocence and deeply adoring as you touch his mouth. The brown of his eyes was melting into the sticky sweet sap color, like warm honey in the sunlight.

You pull your hand away and suck the chocolate off the pad of your thumb, “… but thank you for the compliment. I’m not as much of a baker.”

Scott was trying to keep a smile off his face as his hand hovered near his crinkled nose. He was smelling something that was flying off Stiles like a firework set aflame. The poor boy was squirming in his spot on the ground, crossing his legs and keeping his hands over his lap.

“How was Allison?” Scott changes the subject.

You look up, now ignoring the sappy eyes gazing from below. “She was fine – maybe a little embarrassed about her family. It was strange knowing the motive behind her family’s questions but seeing none of it register with her.”

“I have a feeling she’ll find out soon enough.”

“Me too,” you stand, “For now she’s releasing a lot of her stress through archery and training with her aunt.”

Scott shivers, “Scary.”

You nod, walking to the door and hearing Stiles scramble to his feet. “I’ll see you guys at school tomorrow?”

Getting into the jeep was uncomfortable, Stiles pulling at his jeans. Scott was laughing at him before too long, “Dude, you should have seen your face. You really are hopeless.”

Stiles groans, slamming his forehead into the steering wheel, “She touched me and every thought just flew out of my head.”

“I could smell it off you,” Scott grimaces, “Just awful lovey-dovey sex hormones, even without the full moon I could smell it.”

Stiles sat straight, making the jeep wiggle side to side. He had a ruddy red mark on his forehead. “Did you smell anything from (Y/N)?”

Scott clamps his mouth shut before shaking his head. “I could hear her uneven heartbeat, but that’s nothing new.”

In a dramatic turn of events, Stiles slumps in his seat and puts the car in drive. “I need to figure out a way to tell her.”

“Tell her your feelings?” Scott gaps, “What about the possibility of utterly crushing humiliation? Not to mention ruining what friendships we still have.”

“Thanks for adding to the anxiety, Scott,” he grumbles, “I just… I can’t help thinking about how I am with her. I have never been able to just talk about my mom to anyone… but with her it’s easy. I’ve never brought a girl over to my house before… but with (Y/N) it was a no brainer. I’ve never been so equally terrified and comfortable with a girl. And with her heart…”

“You’re like an anchor for her,” Scott says quietly, all teasing aside. “You can calm her.”

Stiles puts one hand over his cropped hair, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her.”

“You know the difference between you and Andrew Wickstrom, Stiles?”

He snorts, “He’s maybe four inches taller than me, has perfect curly hair, and is way better at lacrosse than I am.”

“He asked (Y/N) out,” Scott says, “You just need to ask her out.”

~~~

Friday night was all excitement and butterflies as you walk around a strip mall with Andrew. The white fairy lights turn on when the sun sets, and you’re left walking on cobblestones and eating ice cream.

You were laughing at the ridiculous training regime that Coach was making the boys do in preparation for the state game.

“What is the benefit of running laps to the classroom and out to the field?”

“Coach makes us carry his stuff too and from his office,” Andrew mocks, “He makes it sound like an exercise, but really he just wants us to fetch his granola bars and energy drinks.”

You laugh again, “That sounds about right. How do you feel about the game?”

“Since switching to goalie it’s been hard figuring the plays out. But I think I’ve got the hang of it now.” He offers to throw away your empty ice cream cup and spoon.

The night so far had entailed a dinner at a little café outside the mall before looking in some of the stores for new summertime clothes. Andrew bought an outfit for you, shorts with little revealing tears in them and a strappy top that shows your scars way more than you’re used to.

You love that Andrew doesn’t question you about them.

Next was a stop at an ice cream parlor, taste testing different flavors before picking your favorites. The pair of you now walking around as the moon comes out, the trees adorned with white fairy lights.

You were walking so close to each other that you kept bumping arms. “Next time I want to show you my favorite antique shop downtown. It has some of the coolest things from every time period, and it’s connected to an old bookshop – one of the ones with tall ladders and a second floor just like in…”

“There’s going to be a next time?” Andrew says, sounding a little giddy. He was looking at you with pink dusting his cheeks.

You blush, “Is that alright?”

In reply, Andrew locks your fingers between his. “Very alright.” You stroll down the next street of cool fairy light, squeezing each other’s hands. “What were you saying about the old bookstore before I rudely interrupted you?”

You brush hair behind your ears, “Oh, just that it reminds me of the old bookstore from Beauty and the Beast… the one from her town.”

“You’re a fan of Disney?”

“Always,” you laugh, “With movies like The Princess and the Frog and The Emperor’s New Groove… how could you not be?”

Andrew snickers, “It’s because of Naveen, isn’t it?”

“Ah, Prince Naveen,” you groan, “You got me there.”

“Got to be honest though… Treasure Planet might be the best one yet.”

You pull on his arm, “I haven’t watched that in ages!”

Andrew side eyes you as his dimples come out, “So old antique shop and then movie night?”

You’re giddy at the thought of another date, “Sounds perfect.” You wander the streets just talking and laughing for another half hour before he offers to drive you home.

He holds your hand atop your lap the whole way.

Walking to your door, porchlight on as your parents wait for your return, you thank Andrew for a lovely evening.

“It’s nice after all the chaos the town’s been in the last month.”

He nods, “I had a really nice time with you, (Y/N).” He hands you the shopping bag with your new summer outfit, “I’ll text you a time for the next one.”

You smile wide as he takes a step closer, “I had fun too.” He was leaning down to your height, your chin rising to meet him.

In a quick mind-boggling moment, Andrew presses his lips to yours. He pulls away just an inch to see your reaction before moving further.

At your slight smile he leans in for more, kissing you more firmly and cupping your cheek. A sudden warmth blooms up your chest and into your face – and a beeping comes from your watch.

You break away suddenly, “God, sorry…” you cover the watch face with your hand. “Parents are waiting.”

Andrew licks his lips, all smiles as he says goodbye, “I’ll see you on Monday.”

You slip inside and find your mom pruning a more successful chamomile plant at the dining table, no doubt planning to make tea with it. “Hello, honey…” she smirks, “Had a nice time?”

Checking your watch, you take a deep breath, your chest tight from something a little more than your racing heart. “The best.”

You had no idea that Stiles was burrowed beneath his blankets in bed, his phone lighting up his face is somber blue light. He watches the alert of your heart rate die down and knows in his gut that you probably had an exciting goodnight kiss on your date.

It sticks him with an ache he can’t shake for the rest of the night.

~~~

The weekend came with an invitation from Stiles in the most untoward manner. You were working on term projects for history and math when there was a sharp rapping on the window. Turning around you see Stiles waving on the roof.

Already smiling, you go to unlock the window and help him open it, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to ask you something.”

“And your phone is…?”

He shrugs, “More of a boring gesture than this.”

“And not coming to the door…?”

He screws his face up in a comical expression, “Again, this is a more interesting entrance.” And with a graceful slip of the hand, he falls forward through the window and crashes to the ground, “Ow!”

You grimace, hearing the floorboards squeak in the hall, “Shit, Stiles my parents will kill me if they knew you were sneaking up our roof!” In a frantic waving of your hands you shove him under your bed.

He does his now famous doggy-paddling across the hardwood floor.

“(Y/N), sweetie?” your mom calls as she enters your bedroom, “Oh – what was that noise? I thought you must’ve fainted and fell.”

You put your hands behind your back, looking around and finding Ollie still snoozing on the history textbook on your desk. He was so unbothered and not at all helpful. “Um… I dropped my math workbook,” you say quickly, “It’s pretty thick.”

Your mom looks to your hands to see the workbook and raises her eyebrows in question.

Choking on your words you look around and find the evidence on your bed covers, “See! I just picked it up when you walked in.”

Angela shakes her head, “Studying must be getting to you. Maybe you should take a break.”

You nod vigorously and thank your mother, closing your door and finding Stiles already trying to pull himself out from under your bed. His tongue was sticking out as he struggles.

“That was close,” you laugh, sitting on the floor with him, “Who knew you’d be such mischief.”

Stiles snaps his eyes to yours and flounders in his words, “I… you – did you…”

Your knees are inches away as you give him a quizzical look, “What?”

“My m-, my mom used to call me mischief.” His voice was quiet and wondering as he says it. He looks at you with a kind of awe; a freckle of sadness making his eyes glassy.

You suddenly feel warm, maybe from embarrassment – maybe from empathy. You couldn’t imagine a life without your mother. “A very fitting name for someone so mischievous.”

He chuckles, his smile subconscious, “That’s not the only reason she called me that. Um… I uh – my name isn’t actually Stiles.”

“I knew it,” you smirk.

“I actually have a polish name – my grandpa’s name. And it’s really hard to pronounce, so I’d pretty much stop at saying mischief cause that was as close as I could get.”

You raise your eyebrows, all curiosity, “And this name is…?”

He looks shy as he mumbles, “Mieczyslaw.”

“Mitchy-slav?”

He becomes shier as he repeats, “Yeah, Mieczyslaw. You can imagine why a young impressionable child would choose to go by something a little easier.”

You look at him fondly, “I like it. I like learning things about you.” You stand, taking his hand to pull him up, “Now what was the thing you wanted to ask me?”

“I wanted to know if you’d come hangout at my place tonight and meet my dad.”

“I already know your dad, Stiles.”

“Yeah, on a professional basis,” he mocks, “But… but you’ve never seen him without the badge on.”

You agree to come over that night and say you’ll bring a treat, which immediately strikes interest in Stiles. You plan accordingly, cooking all Saturday evening and dishing it in traveling containers. Placing them in a large take-out bag, you drive with your dad to the Stilinski bachelor pad.

You hope your gesture is kindly met.

“(Y/N)!” Stiles says with as much enthusiasm as one seeing someone for the first time in weeks. He’s awkward as he thinks of another way to greet you and is grateful when you go in for a hug. “Something smells delicious.”

You lift the large bag, ��I told you I’d bring something.”

He leads you to the kitchen and you see Noah Stilinski looking over case files at the dining table. He looks stressed and wary until he spots you in the doorway.

“Ah, hello (Y/N). It’s nice to see you outside of the station…” he stands up, “… and outside of an ambulance.”

You laugh, going in for a hug that he wasn’t expecting, but loving it nonetheless. He holds you for a second longer as you say, “It’s about time.” He smells of whiskey. You gesture to the food in your bag, “I brought us dinner.”

“Oh my god,” Noah deadpans, “You spoil us.” He frantically tries to shuffle his case files into an orderly fashion, “I’m sorry it’s such a mess.” He moves his full whiskey glass and goes to put the decanter away.

“It’s okay,” you start to help, catching words like ‘murder’ and ‘Hale House.’ Stiles ran for some plates and forks. “There’s not always warning when Stiles makes plans.” You wonder how drunk the sheriff already is – the case must really be getting to him.

Noah chuckles, “You really know my son, then.” He seems awkward without the authority of his badge – like any other suburban dad. “He didn’t tell me you were bringing anything. Wait… did you cook that?” he points to your bag of containers.

“Yeah,” you say, helping Stiles set the table, “My specialty.”

Noah shakes his head, “I haven’t had a homecooked meal in…”

“Years,” Stiles snorts, “(Y/N) is the real deal, dad. Whatever she made will change your life.”

“He eats some chicken and rice and suddenly I’m a three-star Michelin chef.”

Stiles chortles, “Don’t forget those brownies. I’ll never be the same.”

You laugh as the boys sit down and you reveal the dinner you brought. A bowl of spicy Italian sausage, a plate of sliced garlic bread, and a dish of homemade mac and cheese topped with chopped parsley and green onion.

It was very quiet for the first few minutes, you placing a slice of garlic bread on each plate and ladling the cheesy noodles on top like an open-faced slider. You end with placing a few pieces of sausage on the side and passing the plates to the boys.

Stiles still can’t find the words as his dad says, “Did um…” he clears his throat. “Did Stiles tell you…”

You nod, feeling a presence there like nothing you had ever experienced before. “He said it was one of her signature dishes – a favorite of his.” You look to Stiles beside you and notice something glistening in his eyes.

You let them soak in the thoughtfulness of the gesture – what it actually signifies for them – and you start to eat on your own. Though it didn’t bring up any childhood memories of motherly love that it would for Stiles… it was still delicious.

“You’re right,” you say softly, “Like a fancy kids meal.”

Noah starts to chuckle, sniffing as he clears the emotion from his throat. He’s next to start eating his meal and the way he savors each bite is compliment enough. You wait for Stiles to start, very conscious of his quietness.

Stiles was never quiet.

He picks up the garlic bread laden with mac and cheese and takes a bite. He giggles like a schoolboy, “Wow.” He closes his eyes and you feel inclined to put your hand on his. Beneath the table, you wrap your fingers around his against his leg.

You rub your thumb in circles around his knuckles, watching him open his eyes and see tears there. “How is it?”

He sniffs, looking at you with wet eyes, “Like I remember.” He wipes at his face as you smile.

The rest of the meal continues with small talk and fond memories bringing up laughter. The sheriff finishes his whiskey and seems full and tired. Stiles keeps eating until there were no leftovers in sight.

He was now staring at the files of paperwork on the current Derek Hale case. You catch his eye and stand to wash dishes, “You finished, sheriff?”

“Oh no, I’ve got it,” Stiles slips out of his chair and takes the plates from your hands, “You just sit down, I’ll clean up.”

You smile to yourself as the sheriff looks more work wary, leaning on his hand and rubbing at his temples. “You bring out the best in him,” he says quietly, “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him willingly wash a dish before.”

“He’s sweet,” you say. Realizing too late that that was another thing Mrs. Stilinski used to say all the time.

Noah nods, a little red in the cheeks from the alcohol, “He is. She always said so.”

You had a feeling the sheriff didn’t talk about his wife very much. “You seem a little put out.”

“It’s just this case,” he rubs hard at his face, “I’ve been staring at it for weeks and I know they’re all connected, but there’s something missing.”

“What are all connected?” you ask.

He points a finger at you, “I shouldn’t be telling you.”

“You know I’m not going to say anything, sheriff,” you say candidly, “I’m a hermit that makes very good mac and cheese in my spare time.”

He chuckles deep in his throat, quieter the drunker he is. “The thing is… the bus driver that got killed, he was an insurance investigator assigned to the Hale house fire.” He pulls on a paper with his fingertips, sliding it across the table.

You read it sideways as it moves. “’Terminated under suspicion of fraud.’”

“The video store clerk who got his throat slashed, he’s a convicted felon, history of arson. Two others in the woods… they had priors all over their records, including…”

“Arson…” you say to yourself. The true crime fan within you was a little tickled. It sounds like all the victims had something to do with the house fire six years ago. You look over your shoulder to see Stiles standing in the doorway. He had soapy water soaking the front of his shirt.

He puts a finger to his lips and listens.

“There’s just so many questions…” You don’t stop him for fear that he’ll register all that he’s telling you. “If Derek wanted to kill everyone involved with the fire, then why start with his sister? I mean, she had nothing to do with it. And why make it look like some kind of animal did it?”

You shake your head. It must be killing Stiles to know the real reason behind some of these things and not being able to share. He was protecting his dad from the supernatural. Just like how he was trying to protect you from it.

“You know the instances of wild animal reports were up 70% over the past few months? It’s like they’re going crazy and running out of the woods. I don’t know.” He hand a palm to his forehead, already dozing off.

You feel a little guilty as you lean in your chair.

“Hey, sheriff, can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything, sweetheart…”

You smile warmly as Stiles leans his head against the archway. “Would you be willing to call my parents and tell them I’m staying the night? It’s late and I don’t want to worry them. Stiles and I have some work to catch up on… our chemistry project and stuff. Now would be a really good time to get it done.”

The sheriff had a dopey smile on his face as he looks at you. He considers you while Stiles is having a heart attack in the kitchen.

“Sure thing,” he says, fumbling for his phone, “I know your parents worry about you.”

“It’ll sound better coming from you,” you say kindly, “Thank you, sheriff. And thank you for letting me stay.”

He scratches at his head as you stand, already dialing your mom’s number, “Hey, Angela. No, no – she’s fine. We’re taking good care of her… hey, listen. The kids want to work on some projects, and I wanted to offer to let her stay the night.” He rubs at his tired eyes, “Sure, sure… of course. It’s just late and I know Tom is at the firehouse tonight so… yeah, sure thing. We’ve got plenty of room. Yep, thanks Angela. Sure, bye bye.”

You’re walking towards Stiles with a stupid grin on your face, “Let’s go talk.”

“Night dad!” Stiles yells instantly, still in awe that you were able to pull that off.

Noah waves them off, “Don’t stay up too late.”

You pull Stiles’ hand and go upstairs. “I can’t believe that worked.” You find the bathroom but wait for Stiles to show you his room.

“Um… one second,” he holds up a finger and tells you to stay put. He rummages like a madman in his bedroom, knocking things over and slamming things shut. You picture mounds of clothes and old plates of food being shoved into the closet.

He’s breathing heavy when he opens the door again, “Okay, you can come in.” He holds open the door and you walk in to find a queen bed with ruffled blue sheets, a desk on the other side with bulletin boards hanging on the wall. One of the smaller ones had a blanket thrown over it.

You wonder how much decluttering Stiles did because it was still very messy. Papers, sticky notes, and red string were everywhere. “Cozy.”

He looks nervous, playing with his fingers and watching your expression, “I don’t… ha…” he fidgets with his soapy shirt, “I’ve never had a girl in my room before.”

You take a bow, “I’m honored.” You sit on the edge of his bed, “What your dad is investigating…”

“Derek… I know,” he sits at his desk chair. “He’s so close to figuring it all out. He just doesn’t know about the Alpha.”

“Was it bad of me to egg him on while he’s so clearly drunk?”

“No, I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Exactly,” you deadpan, smiling. “If the Alpha is killing people responsible for the fire, then Derek siding with him at the hospital…”

“… is probably because he wants people to pay for the fire as well.”

You rub your legs down to your knees, “And the Alpha just wants to become powerful again in his revenge.”

Stiles was tapping his fingers against the desk, “So was there any other reason why you wanted to stay the night? Because I know for a fact you already finished our chemistry project and it’s incubating in the lab right now.”

“Well, there have been a couple things I wanted to talk to you about.” You sit cross legged on the mattress and say, “Coach has been talking to me about Scott failing his classes.”

“Big surprise,” Stiles scoffs, “The guy thinks he can be some werewolf savior and graduate high school at the same time.”

You wince, “Finstock made a deal with the office. Scott can’t go to the winter formal.”

“Because he’s failing?” Stiles gawks.

“They wanted to kick him off the team, but Coach said… some strange things… and made the dance agreement.” You tilt your head to the side, “Are you still planning on going?”

Stiles spins around in his chair, fumbling over his words, “Um, er – yeah, technically. I was s-still planning on it. Why… might I ask?”

You sigh, “Allison will need someone to ask her out.”

He was caught off guard, “I’m sorry, what? Me ask Allison to the dance.”

“It makes sense!” you say, “With Scott’s savior complex he’s going to want everyone under supervision in case the Alpha decides to take us out one at a time.”

There was a hesitance in the way Stiles kept spinning around in the chair. He seems grumpy, “Why can’t Jackson ask her?”

“You don’t want to go with Allison?’

“Well, I…” he was biting his lips, “I don’t know. Are you going?”

“I think Andrew is going to ask me on our next date.”

Stiles bangs a foot against the desk and nearly slips out of the chair, “A second date? Already?”

You smile, going a little red, “We had a good time and… we may or may not have kissed.”

A horrible sinking feeling enters Stiles’ stomach. His heart clenches painfully and the sudden desire to hurt Wickstrom came on hard and fast. “And… you liked it.”

“It was a nice change of pace from my usual,” you try to hide your smile, “I haven’t been kissed in a while.”

Stiles waves his hands around, “Woah, woah, woah… you’ve been kissed before? I thought you were a hermit that made mac and cheese.”

“And I have the occasional neighbor boy kiss me,” you laugh, “There was Easton from down the street when I was thirteen and then Adam who was visiting from San Fransico over the summer when I was fifteen. Not to mention, nimrod, that Scott kissed me just the other week.”

“Oh my god,” he wipes a hand across his face, “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Get people to kiss you?”

You squint your eyes, folding your arms, “Are you telling me you’ve never been kissed?”

Stiles squirms in his chair, swinging it back and forth. “Maybe.”

“Ah, Stiles!” you bounce on his bed, “That’s so sweet.”

He groans, “Don’t tell me it’s sweet. It freaking sucks. All of my friends are getting their jollies off and I am left here in the dust with the driest lips this side of the valley.” His arms hang limp at his sides, “Is it nice?”

You giggle, “It can be. I think it only ever is when you kiss someone you like. It’s just… god, it’s hard to explain.” But Stiles was leaning in like the most attentive student. “There’s something really vulnerable about it, which leaves you wide open to feel anything and everything. You’re scared to death of course, especially with someone you like. But the bliss you feel after doing it is like nothing else.”

Stiles purses his lips, “Is that how the Andrew kiss went?”

“Almost.”

That raises his eyebrows, “I thought you really liked him.”

“I do, but I kind of have this new rule since the summer with Adam from San Fransico,” you hold up a hand, “I can’t date seriously. I can’t get too involved with any guy. So I’ll have to tell Andrew to stop eventually if this keeps going well.”

Stiles frowns, a punch to the gut, “Why can’t you date seriously?”

“Personal choice.”

“Because of what?” You smile and he groans, “Let me guess, it’s another story for another day.”

You use a finger gun on him, “Precisely, you’re catching on.” But the smile starts to dip from your face as you look at him. You lick your lips and say, “How about this. If you don’t have your first kiss by junior year… I’ll kiss you.”

The chair creaks as Stiles nearly falls from it, feet kicking out, “What!?”

“I’ll kiss you. We’ll make a kiss pact. I don’t want you getting too far into high school without having been kissed. The first one is always nerve-wracking anyway. It probably won’t be as meaningful as getting surprised with it by someone you really like, but it might be the next best thing.”

Stiles was losing his marbles, little fireworks exploding behind his eyes and falling like sparklers into his chest. “Okay.”

You smile at his goofy expression, “Now, can I borrow those sweats again? And maybe a t-shirt?”

He was still looking at you with sparklers in his eyes, “Huh? Oh yeah, sure.” He went to rummage through his dresser.

A few minutes later you were both in pajamas, having taken turns to use the bathroom to brush your teeth – you just using toothpaste and your finger – and standing in Stiles’ bedroom. You had dark sweats and an oversized shirt. With how broad Stiles’ shoulders were, the shirt hung low on your frame.

His throat was bobbing when he saw you standing there, pillows and blankets on the ground. “You good?”

You yawn, “Yep.” You meet him at the makeshift nest on the ground and nudge him, “Move please.”

“Oh, no this is for me,” he says, “You get the bed.” Standing so close to each other, you have to look up at him.

“I’m the guest, Stiles. You use your bed and I’ll count the dust bunnies under the bed.” You smile at the deep frown on his face.

He shakes his head, “Not gonna happen.”

“Fine,” you say, crawling onto his bed, “We can share.”

He chokes on his spit and starts coughing, “Share the bed?”

“Is that okay?” you look at him innocently.

That look combined with you wearing his clothes was sending him over the edge. His stomach was full of butterflies tickling the tightness in his ribcage. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. In one night he had a girl in his room, said girl promised to kiss him, and now wanted to share a bed with him.

“Um… I kind of sleep in the middle of the mattress. I don’t want you to wake up to me invading your personal space.”

You laugh, “That’s fine, I can just shove you away.”

He nods, but is lost for words, going to turn off the light while you get comfortable. He’s back in the darkness and hesitates, “Are you su…”

“Get in the bed, Stilinski,” you mumble, already buried in his woodsy honey scented sheets. You feel the mattress dip as he finds his pillow. His knee knocks into your leg, and he apologizes. He shuffles down further and pulls up the blanket, rubbing his arm against yours, and he apologizes again.

“It’s fine, Stiles,” you laugh, “We’re bound to touch being this close.”

He swallows hard, staring at the ceiling as you cuddle further into your pillow, blanket tucked under your chin. “Goodnight,” you mumble.

Stiles bites the inside of his cheek, “Goodnight, (Y/N).” In the dark of his bedroom and the warm, calm presence of you beside him, it gave him a sense of ease. He takes a deep breath and says, “Thank you for the dinner today. It… meant a lot.”

You hum in reply, “You’re welcome.”

The last thing he remembers is turning on his side to face you already asleep. Your mouth was a little open and the pillow was squashing your cheek. Your hair was wild behind you and the shirt you borrowed was low enough that he could see the scar above your heart. You look more beautiful than ever laying there.

He wanted to know what you were holding back. He wanted to know what he had to do to give you the same feelings he was having.

And with thoughts of you looking beautiful in his bed, he fell asleep too.

~~~

Hours later you wake groggily to a still dark room. Stiles was standing and pulling his shoes on, phone in his hand. You groan and shift the covers closer to your body.

“Where are you going?” you ask half-asleep.

Stiles freezes at your words, “Uh… werewolf business. You can just stay here…” he walks over to your nearly asleep figure, “I’ll come back later.”

You don’t reply and he thinks you’re already back to sleep. It makes him smile. He bends down to tuck the covers a little tighter around you and… he hesitates, looking at your face. He swallows hard and leans down to place a kiss to your head.

“Sweet dreams.”

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs @iamaslytherin0 @n3muru @bethsvrse @taylorbrooke-0912 @iloveyou2mia @everrrsincenewyork @gisellesprettylies

#stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #okay j hannah #okayjhannah #fandomfantasia

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rip-quizilla · 3 months

Text

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 6

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Thanksgiving, idiots in love, and unwelcome encounters in the parking lot.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Content Warning! This chapter contains sexual harassment (grabbing at clothes, derogatory name calling).

Thank you so much @hellfire--cult for the adorable Converse divider🥹

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Part 6

Thanksgiving Day, 1983

Eddie had a lot of things to worry about today, but right now he was most worried about whether or not the mac & cheese he’d slaved over all morning would taste like shit.

His sweaty hands clutched the dish towel-wrapped baking dish for dear life and mentally rolled through all of the ingredients he had read on that clipping from the Southern Living magazine he’d grabbed from the grocery store. It wasn’t as if he’d never cooked before- he could make a mean grilled cheese, and if something came in a box he hadn’t found a way to fuck it up yet. This time, however, he’d been a little out of his element.

Wayne had been excited to finally have a use for the casserole dish that had been sitting in a cabinet unused for so long that Eddie hadn’t even known it existed. Currently, he sat relaxed in the drivers’ seat of his pickup smiling smug as hell even though Eddie had assured him multiple times that he was not about to meet Eddie’s girlfriend… just a friend.

No matter how much Eddie tried to hammer that point into Wayne’s skull, however, he still smiled that stupid knowing grin every time your name came up in conversation, as if he knew something Eddie didn’t.

“You seem nervous.” Wayne commented, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead as he lazily turned the truck into your neighborhood.

Eddie glared at the tin foil topped dish in his lap. “Well, I’ve never made this recipe before, I keep picturing everyone taking a bite and immediately spitting it into their napkins.”

Wayne snorted, shaking his head softly and guiding the steering wheel with one hand. “Son, it’s pasta and cheese. Pretty hard to mess that up too bad.”

“Yeah, well…” Eddie harrumphed. “I’m sure I found a way somehow.”

Wayne smiled softly at his nephew’s smitten nerves, parking the pickup with a jerky stop at the curb of your house. “505, right? This is the one?”

“Yeah.”

Watching smugly as Eddie stared out the window at your house, Wayne waited about four seconds before he asked, “Are you gonna get out of the car today, or…?”

Cue the sound of the car door opening and Eddie grumbling a sassy muttered retort of I’m going old man, calm down, or something along those lines. Wayne pretended not to catch it.

You opened the door before Wayne and Eddie could even get to the door, and when Eddie’s eyes landed on you? His uncle could just tell. The smile that exploded on his nephew’s face was all it took.

“Oh here, let me take that-”

“No, no, it’s fine Ace, I got it.” Eddie reassured you, swooping the casserole dish away from your eager hands. He nodded in Wayne’s direction, directing you to do the same as he introduced the only family member of his that you’d heard of at all in your time as friends. “This is my Uncle Wayne.”

Your eyes shone, welcoming and warm, and Wayne understood in an instant how you’d had such an effect on Eddie in less than a year. Since he’d started spending time with you, Eddie Munson had become the kind of young man who did his homework without being asked. He’d even gotten a job at the mall of all places and gave a portion of his earnings to his uncle to help with living expenses.

None of the things Wayne had always loved about Eddie had gone away- the changes he’d seen in his nephew were all additions to a personality that he’d always known would take him far in life if he could just surround himself with those who brought out the best in him. People who saw that spark of Munson Magic and knew how to fan it.

Wayne could now confirm that you were one of those people.

He took your hand in his weathered and wrinkled one, pouring his approval of you into a firm and fatherly handshake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, young lady.” He gestured to Eddie with a conspiratorial nod. “Nice to put a face to the name, all he does is talk about you.”

“Brrrrr, it’s cold out here!” Eddie interrupted his uncle with a hand on your back to steer you away from Wayne and into the house. “Are you cold? You look cold, we don’t need to stand out here yapping when you’re cold.”

You smiled, following Eddie’s lead but tossing a look over your shoulder at Wayne like it was a shared secret.

Eddie had already met your parents, so greetings were warm and familiar once the three of you had reached the foyer. Wayne was introduced to both your mom and dad before your mom noticed Eddie had brought an offering for the table.

“Edward Munson, if I’m about to find out you’re not only a shoe designer but also a cook, I might just have to extend a standing invitation for all future holidays!”

“Shoe designer?” Wayne raised an eyebrow.

You chuckled, pointing your foot out for him to see your white (now turned a bit duller from wearing them every day) Chuck Taylors, completely covered in idle drawings from Eddie’s inability to sit still.

Wayne gawked at the artwork on your shoes; he’d always known that Eddie was talented, but this was the first time in a long time that Wayne had really stopped and looked at his nephew’s art. The detail, the use of space and composition- it was clear that Eddie knew not only how to draw, but he had an eye for how to make his art look like it belonged on its canvas. Even otherworldly monsters- sea creatures, dragons, demonic ghouls and ghostly images- looked at home on your well-loved high tops.

“You drew all this, Ed?”

Eddie smiled shyly, nudging your shoulder with his own. “Ah, they’re just doodles. This one over here figured out I pay better attention in class when I’m doing something with my hands. Helps me listen better.” Finally, his trademark grin reappeared, shyness replaced with snark. “Now I’m the one helping her in class.”

“All the times I’ve had to kick you so you don’t fall asleep in O’Donnell’s beg to differ.” You replied, rolling your eyes at him. This brought a good-natured ripple of laughter from everyone in the room. You all felt it- the ease with which familiarity settled in the air amongst you. Eddie felt it most of all, since he wasn’t quite accustomed to the particular familial feel of it.

He might have been, once. But it’s been a while.

A second later and your mom had whisked Eddie into the kitchen to set his dish down on a trivet and sent him into the living room with a steaming cup of wassail in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other.

“There was enough food in there to feed an army,” Eddie said, bemused as he sat down next to you on the couch. “Does she know there are only five of us?”

You toed off your shoes and let them fall to the ground before crossing your legs up on the green ottoman, fuzzied soft with wear from years of love. You leaned closer to Eddie, eyes fixed on his plate of goodies as you began to pick pieces of fruit and cheese for yourself.

“Mom grew up with a big family,” you said, popping a juicy red grape into your mouth. “All the family recipes make enough for six at least. She could probably cut the recipes in half… but I think cooking all this food reminds her of home.” you smiled tenderly and shrugged. “We usually freeze the leftovers, but since you and your uncle are here I doubt we’ll even have to open a freezer bag. We’ll just send leftovers home with you!”

Eddie liked the sound of that.

An hour or so passed before you all sat down to share your meal, and Eddie was amazed how quickly his nerves had dissipated in that time. The two of you sat cozied up on the couch, munching on fruit, cheese and deviled eggs. Your dad had offered Wayne a beer, and the two of them sat watching football in front of the TV until your mom gave the all-call for dinner.

Everyone loaded up their plates, remarked on how good the food looked, thanked your mom for all of the hard work that went into today’s meal. This was quickly followed by a pointed thank you from your mother to Eddie for the “best mac ‘n cheese I’ve ever had” according to her. He was pretty sure she was just being nice, but he didn’t care. Her smile was still contagious- one of those ‘I love you no matter what’ mom smiles.

He’d forgotten about those.

He’d also forgotten what it was like to sit at a dining room table with more than three people. For a second, he’d been worried that you were all about to hold hands and pray, which wouldn’t have been ideal since all Eddie could remember about the dinner prayer was “bless us, oh Lord, for these thy gifts,” and he didn’t want to embarrass himself.

But there wasn’t a prayer. This wasn’t a test he’d forgotten to study for, just a meal where Mom and Dad and Uncle were all happy he was here, happy each other were here. That was new. And when your dad asked Eddie how school was going, for once he had nothing but good things to report. He’d gotten a 95 on his last English test. For the first time since sophomore year, he wasn’t failing a single class. And when your dad said “Glad to hear you’re doing well, son.” Eddie felt you squeeze his thigh lightly, just above his knee. He saw Wayne smiling proudly out of the corner of his eye.

Eddie could get used to this.

Conversation flowed easily in your family; no one felt the need to talk about the weather or ask arbitrary questions, and thankfully nobody decided that “we should go around the table and all say something we’re thankful for!”. There wasn’t a need for it. None of you needed to say it out loud to know you were all thankful for each other. For this.

By the time dessert came around, Eddie started to think he might be dreaming. Apparently, you were the one always in charge of dessert in your household. And while he’d grown very acquainted with your chocolate chip cookies, he hadn’t been adequately prepared for your pecan pie. Or your chocolate & peanut butter sheet cake. Or the chocolate pudding/cool whip/cookie crumb whatever-it-was that you’d spooned onto his dessert plate.

Could a person become delirious after consuming too much sugar? Eddie wasn’t sure if it was sugar that was causing him to start wondering what you’d look like making all these desserts in a kitchen that you both paid rent for, or if that was just him. It was probably the sugar.

As soon as Eddie was shoveling his last bite into his mouth, he was looking over to see if you had any left for him to mooch off of you. Your plate was empty- scraped clean, even- and then you were grabbing his empty plate and standing to take them into the kitchen. Eddie was about to pout when you looked at him knowingly and asked, “You want seconds? I’m getting seconds.”

It wasn’t the sugar. Eddie wanted to know what your signatures looked like together on a lease. And Eddie couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to finally admit to himself that he’d been nursing a crush on you since… when had it started? Eddie wasn’t sure. Somewhere between seventh grade history class and this very moment, he figured.

He looked up at you from his seat, mouth still stuffed with pie crust and cool whip, and smiled when he noticed how pretty you looked in that sweater you were wearing. It was red- you wore red a lot, he realized. Had you always worn red this often?

You giggled, poking his cheek. “You look like a chipmunk when you smile like that.”

His eyes followed you as you disappeared into the kitchen, and when Eddie caught a glimpse of the way Wayne was grinning at him? Well, his blush was a deeper shade of scarlet than your sweater.

The smile stayed, though. Even a punch to the jaw couldn’t knock that off Eddie’s face.

“I wanna take you out.”

It had taken Eddie what felt like ages to finally ask you. You were both at school, and he had been thinking about it and thinking about it and ramping himself for weeks to just grow a pair and ask you. The question had sounded smoother in his head, but now he thought he sounded vaguely frightening- sharper and more desperate than he’d hoped.

You blanched, eyes wide and mouth open to a little “O” shape that made Eddie’s heart flutter.

You were so cute. How had he ever ignored it?

You grinned a little, “Take me out like… assassination, take me out, or…?”

“No,” Eddie shook his head, laughing nervously, “I mean like, out. To a place. Or multiple places, if you want.” He was jumpy, his hands switching from his pockets to the strap of his backpack, to his hair, to the fraying edges of the friendship bracelet you’d tied around his wrist in July.

“So when you say take me out, you mean like… on a date?”

There it was. You’d said it, that word. Date. It was out in the open now.

You’d put the ball in Eddie’s court, and he should be happy about it. This was how it was supposed to be, right? He needed to be a man, take control, take the lead. But unfortunately, it had taken the majority of his bravery just to initiate this conversation.

“Do you want it to be a date?”

Just like that, he passed the ball to you. Eddie cursed himself, waiting anxiously for your response, completely at your mercy.

You looked down at your shoes covered in his doodles, at the red plaid of your flannel that you wore because you’d bought it in hopes that if he started to associate you with his favorite color, he might like you more. Like you the way you liked him.

You couldn’t say the words either… couldn’t speak them into existence without fear of sounding too desperate, too eager. So instead, you nodded yes to your doodle covered shoes and smiled at the dragon he’d drawn on the left toe.

Eddie beamed- inwardly, of course. Couldn’t let you see exactly how happy he was that you felt the same as him- he needed to be calm, to be cool. Girls liked calm and cool.

“Then it’s a date, Sweet Tart.” He ached to sling a triumphant arm over your shoulder, but shoved his sweating hands into his pockets instead.

You snuck a glance at Eddie, your smile refusing to leave no matter how cool you were trying to appear. Be cool, don’t act too desperate, you chided yourself.

“It’s a date.” you repeated, beaming up at him. “When were you thinking?”

“Well,” Eddie shrugged as you both came to a stop by your locker. “Finals are next week and then we’re off for Christmas break, so I should be able to pencil you in for next Saturday night.” He leaned against the adjacent lockers, a smug smile shining down on you.

“Pencil me in, huh?” you giggled, replacing the notebooks and folders from your last class with your supplies for the next. “I’m flattered you could fit me into your busy schedule.”

“If there’s one thing my schedule always has room for, it’s you, Ace.”

Swooning. That was the only word for what those words made you do. You weren’t sure if Eddie was aware of the effect he had on you, but you were pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to help it if he was.

You were actually grateful for your final exams the following week- they gave you something to focus on other than your date with Eddie. Which meant that the moment you’d finished your last exam on Friday, that date was the only thing on your mind.

Your date with Eddie. The words alone were enough to make you smile to yourself. You’d been harboring this crush on him for the better part of this year, and now he asks you on a date? Was it possible that he had felt the same way all this time?

“You sure you’re cool if I don’t stay for the whole session tonight?” you’d asked Eddie as he’d prepared for Hellfire that afternoon, triple-checking that he wasn’t upset. It had become a routine for the two of you- your weekly presence as the one and only audience member for Hellfire’s in-game escapades.

“Cool as a cucumber, Ace.” Eddie had replied, “You took three exams today, for crying out loud. Go take a nap.”

When you finally conceded, he’d walked you from the gameplay table to the door, even going so far as to hold it open for you. Then, to your surprise, he’d taken your hand in his and brought it to his lips.

“Go rest up.” He’d muttered, low enough so only you could hear. Then he’d brushed his lips against the back of your fingers, and you’d just about melted on the spot. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 8, Sweet Tart.”

Your hand still tingled as you thought about the feel of his lips on your skin. Now, you wanted that feeling everywhere.

Your body was on autopilot as you made your way through the school parking lot; slushed, muddy snow sat piled up in corners and untouched patches at the edges of the lot from the on-again off-again winter precipitation over the December weeks. Your booted feet marched on toward your car, your mind entirely occupied by thoughts of tomorrow.

You were so distracted by that thought that you didn’t notice who was waiting for you, leaned up against the trunk of your car.

“Hey there, firecracker.”

You stopped short when your eyes snapped up to see Alan, along with a couple guys from the basketball team. Their faces were pure predatory malice as Alan eyed you up and down.

You paused a moment, your heart rate picking up a notch when you realized just how empty the parking lot was, given the hour that had passed since the final bell.

“I have to get home.” you muttered, keeping your eyes on the driver side door and making your best attempt to brush past the jock leaned up directly beside it, but to no avail.

“Not so fast, you little freak.” Alan stepped into your path, a cruel smile creasing his freckled face. “We just wanted to chat!”

“You,” your voice betrayed every ounce of disbelief that you felt looking up at the meathead blocking your path to your own vehicle. “-want to chat. With me?”

“I know, I know, you’re flattered-”

“I’m not.”

“Well you should be.” Alan peered down at you with frigid eyes. “Lord knows no guy will ever want to be seen with you now that the Freak’s got his claws in you.”

You felt a surge of indignant fire seep into your gaze. “Piss off, asshole.” You attempted to shove past him, but Alan took a step toward you, throwing off your balance. You had to grab the bumper of the car beside you to keep from falling over, clutching at the books in your arms to avoid dropping them onto the icy pavement below.

“I even heard he branded you.” Alan’s hot breath sent an unwelcome shiver over your skin. “Sherrie said she saw you in the locker room with… some kind of symbol… on your upper thigh, I believe?”

A biting breeze whooshed past you, but you didn’t feel it- your body had already gone ice cold.

“Sherrie’s lying.”

“You know, I don’t think she is.” Alan’s hands crept closer toward you, ghosting fingertips across the fabric of your skirt. “But if you want to prove it to us…”

You felt your stomach drop when one of Alan’s friends stepped behind you, boxing you in. They were like vultures- to them, you were already down for the count. Ready to be picked at and preyed upon.

Slapping Alan’s hand away, you attempted once again to squeeze past him and his goons, anxious for the safety of your driver’s seat and a locked door between you and them. Unfortunately, Alan had other plans.

“Come on,” he crooned, “girls don’t get tattoos unless they want people to see them. Go ahead and show us.”

“Go. Away.” you gritted through your teeth.

“The Freak’s seen it, hasn't he?” Alan pressed, his hand grasping the fabric of your skirt in his fist. “What, you’ll slut yourself out for him, but not us?”

“What the fuck are you dickheads doing?”

You’d never been so thankful to hear Robin’s voice in your life.

Alan sneered at the unfamiliar sophomore, subtly letting go of your skirt. “Who the hell are you?”

Robin marched up to the boy standing behind you, powering her glare with just enough ferocity that he actually moved aside. Grabbing your shoulders, Robin pulled you a good five feet from Alan and looked you square in the eye. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, pulling your car keys from the pocket of your backpack. You were anxious for something tangible to fidget with, something to ground you in where you stood, away from Alan and his wandering hands.

Once she was sure you were alright, Robin turned the full force of her fury on the boys that stood around your car.

“Mr. Dunne was right behind me on his way out here, so unless you want me to tell him that I just found you groping a female student, I suggest you scram.”

You saw Alan weighing his options for a moment, but eventually he stuck his hands in the pockets of his letter jacket and- thankfully- took his leave.

“Whatever, freaks.” he muttered, strolling away like a brat who had grown up believing himself to be invincible in a system that agreed with him.

It wasn’t until the two of you were both sitting in your car and safe behind locked doors that you finally let out the breath you’d evidently been holding. “Fuck him.” you huffed. “Fuck. Him.”

“Fuck him.” Robin agreed with an emphatic nod of her head. “Has he ever even talked to you before? That seemed… super random, honestly, I’ve never even seen him look in your direction.”

“I may have picked a fight with him after I heard him call Eddie and I freaks in class not too long ago.” you winced, remembering how brazen you’d been that day… you’d been so bold, so fearless, but that girl was nowhere to be seen today. Instead, you’d frozen like a cornered fox surrounded by hounds. It made you feel so small, you thought you might be sick. You hated feeling this way.

“Apparently,” you continued, “his girlfriend saw my tattoo in the locker room. He said he wanted to see it for himself.”

Robin had been the first person- and only person- you’d shown your little bat to after Halloween. She’d been pretty impressed… after she’d stopped worrying about it getting infected, of course.

“First- ew. Gross.” Robin grimaced. “Second- are you telling me you just change in the locker room with that thing out in the open?”

“I’m usually super careful about keeping it hidden!” you argued, “But it is a possibility that I might have been a little rushed to get to my next class at some point… I guess I wasn’t careful enough.”

A short silence settled while you mentally kicked yourself. I should have known this would happen. How could I be so careless?

“Well,” Robin started, suddenly chipper. You knew this tone; she was about to try and cheer you up. Good luck, Rob.

“You’re going to drive me to your house and then we’re baking cookies and watching whatever movie you want.”

While you were still far from what you would consider over what just happened, your interest was definitely piqued. “Whatever movie I want?” you countered.

Robin sighed. “I know what you’re about to ask, and yes, we can watch The Dark Crystal.”

The beginnings of a smile stretched across your face. “And you won’t call any of the puppets creepy at any point?”

“Let’s not go that far.” she deadpanned. “I will watch it, I will eat cookies, and I will not suggest that we turn it off before the movie is over. This is my final offer.”

For Robin, that was a pretty good deal. Your beginnings of a grin had graduated to a full-on smile as you took her hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. “You’re a good friend.”

She returned your smile, and squeezed your hand back before letting go to buckle her seatbelt. “I’m a great friend. Now start driving, I’m hungry and we’re stopping for french fries.”

Part 7

Taglist: @rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92, @melodymishahiddlestan , @sadlittlesquish, @clarafornerlyknownasclaire-blog , @stylesxmunson , @fishwithtitz , @elvendria , @carrotbunnies21 , @the-unforgivenn , @munson-blurbs, @writinginthetwilight, @ghost-proofbaby , @hellfire--cult

I added a few people to the taglist who’ve shown an interest in the series or have been my sounding boards during the writing process for this story. Hope y’all don’t mind!😊❤️

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #stranger things #when harry met sally #friends to enemies to lovers

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lot-of-nothing · 5 months

Text

Entwined (Ch. 6)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Protective Mel <3

Warnings: Smut, flirting, arguments, and working through internalized homophobia

Author’s Note: THIS TOOK SO LONG OH MYGOD. @icannolongercountmyfandoms is the one you can thank for a new chapter bc she LITERALLY threatened me with BODILY HARM /j

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5

A soft knock on your office door drew your attention from your desktop monitor to the sweet face of Melissa Schemmenti. You had been ordering parts on a vehicle currently in your shop when her presence delightfully interrupted your work.

Leaning back in your desk chair, you rest your hands on your thighs as you look her over. She wore leather pants and a form fitting top that only reminded you that it had been weeks since you last fooled around with the beautiful redhead. You spoke with a smirk, your eyes obviously wandering to admire her entire body, “What do I owe the pleasure of having Ms. Schemmenti in my office?”

Mel adored the way you stared, allowing the door to shut behind her as she inched deeper into the office. Her eyes scanned the walls littered with articles about the auto shop that had been in business for decades - opened by your great-uncle in the 70s. She murmured her reply without looking at you, “Just thought I’d drop by...”

“I saw you less than 12 hours ago. I can’t believe you miss me already.” Your eyes were glued to her ass as she turned her back to you.

Melissa kept her back to you as she spoke, slowly walking the perimeter of the office to skim the framed headlines. She returned the playful banter with a monotone, “I’m just here to make sure you are doin’ your job and not just daydreamin’ about me all day.”

“I have time for both.” You tease, earning a sideways glance and eye roll from the redhead.

When she was done touring the office, she perched herself at the edge of your desk. Your response was to move your office chair closer while simultaneously leaning backwards, stretching out to allow Melissa’s eyes to skim over you.

“Enjoying the view?” You asked.

“I am.” Her arms folded over her chest as a mischievous smirk grew on her lips. Mel’s eyes flickered from your shoulders, over your chest, allowing her eyes to linger before drifting back to your face, “I’ve never seen you in your work clothes.”

You give a shrug, teasing her, “That happens when you don’t call before 8pm.”

Your comment had more bite than you intended, but Melissa didn’t seem to take it too personally. She brushed her hair over her shoulder before placing both of her hands on the arms of your chair and looming over you, “Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”

Rather than meet her intense green hues, you admired her cleavage with no effort to conceal your desires. “What do you have in mind?” Melissa’s demeanor changed with a playful laugh. You could’ve sworn you felt her purring as her face drifted closer to yours. Her nose and lips brushed against yours before she scantily pulled away, “A little weekend getaway. You, me, and a cheap, little hotel right on the beach in Atlantic City.”

You cocked your head with a shit eating grin across your face, “Are you asking me on a date?”

Her response contained no hesitation or nervousness. Rather she seemed incredibly satisfied with herself, “I am.”

“Then say it.” Your demeanor was entirely too confident for Melissa’s liking, and you could tell this was the case as her brows narrowed as she stared you down. Her stubborn nature had her fall silent, searching your face to see how serious you were. You confirmed your serious intentions as you returned her intimidating gaze, “Go on.”

The redhead glared for a few seconds longer before straightening her back and softening her features, “Will you go on a date with me?”

“Why, I thought you would never ask.” To reward Mel for her behavior, you rose from your chair, pressing a brief kiss to her lips that threatened to cause Melissa’s cheeks to flush red.

—

“What in the hell is this?” A voice and a banging on the window to your office caused Melissa to jump from your lap to prevent anyone from seeing how cozied up you had been with one another.

With a wave of frustration now coursing through your veins, you rose from your chair and strode to the door, opening it to face a disgruntled customer. He pushed a piece of paper stained with the vaguely familiar markings of the autoshop printer into your face. You quickly pushed away his hand and failed to provide his aggression with kind customer service, “It looks like a receipt.”

He pointed at the receipt, raving about the additional charges tacked onto the original cost of fixing his vehicle, “What the hell are all of these extra charges? You said it was gonna cost $300 and now you’re charging me over $500!”

You only shrugged at his frustrations, leaning away from him as he threatened your bubble of personal space once again as you tried to explain the additional charges. You hadn’t noticed Melissa lingering in the doorway behind you, silently fuming at the way the customer was speaking to you, “We told you when you dropped it off that you gotta pick it up within 24 hours or else we charge ya’ for parking. You left the Buick here for over a week, man. We aren’t a public parking lot. We need the space for other customers.”

“Where’s your fuckin’ manager?”

“I am the fuckin’ manager.”

You returning his energy wasn’t something he took kindly. He waded up the bill and tossed it aside before pushing his finger into your chest, “If you think for a goddamn minute I will be paying this bill, you have another thing comin’. I don’t need some bitch robbing me of my hard earned money.” The second he touched you, Melissa rounded your side and came to stand between you and the man. Her hands were balled into fists and perched on her hips as she stared defiantly up at the man who stood two feet taller than her. You glanced down and noticed gripped in one of her hands was a baseball bat you kept tucked behind your desk, “Is there a problem here?”

The man gave a tired sigh, waving a hand in Melissa’s face. Little did he know that his waving hand was akin to the red flag waving in the face of a raging bull, “Get lost, red. It’s none of your business.”

With one swift movement she lifted the bat, allowing it to slide in her hand so she gripped the barrell, shortening it enough that she could poke him in the chest with it. You watched her lean back and forth as she threatened him - a genetic trait of Schemmenti’s as they threatened people. “The second you decided to start with the name callin’ it became my problem. I suggest you pay up before your car ends up with more problems than what you came in with.”

He made the worst possible decision as he placed his hands on his knees, speaking to Melissa as if he were talking to a child. “Stay the hell out of this. This is between me and your girlfriend.”

Melissa stared him down for a fraction of a second before snapping. She allowed the bat to slide back down in her hand so she could grip the handle and lift the aluminum bat above her head, ready to strike. You were lucky you had your eyes glued to her rather than the unwelcome customer so you had the time to loop one arm around her waist while the other raised to grip the barrel of the bat.

“No, no, no, no!” You scolded, tugging her back towards the office while some of the boys working in the shop intervened.

Mel barely gave up a fight against you, rather she stared down her new mortal enemy with a vitriol you had yet to see on her face before. When she was finally in the office, you released her while tearing the bat from her grasp lest she have any ideas about slipping past you to exact her revenge.

Knowing she was now trapped in your office, she began pacing back and forth with a rage you could feel radiating off her. You leaned against the door, watching her traverse your office like a caged wildcat which only made you smile. With a lighthearted tone, you tried to calm her, “Easy, tiger.”

Melissa whipped around to face you, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as she was clearly unhappy with your decision to prevent her from teaching that guy a lesson. She stared up at you with a defiance that you found incredibly endearing, and what was even more endearing was the way she continued fighting for you, “He can’t just talk to you like that!”

“Don’t give it too much thought. I deal with guys like that all the time.” You calmly brush off the encounter, remembering countless situations wherein things escalated much further and you were called far worse. Leaving the bat by the door, you approach the seething woman with a serenity that cooled her boiling anger.

The redhead refused to respond to you and her eyes studied the calendar on the wall to avoid meeting your own. She folded her arms over chest and you watched her demeanor shift from simmering anger to pouty eyes begging for your attention.

Taking her face in your hands, you lift her face towards you and press a kiss to her forehead before wrapping her into a tight hug, “I promise you. It’s okay.”

You drop your phone down onto the bed when Melissa walks out only wearing an oversized sweatshirt. The bagginess of the clothing hid everything and you were ready to help her out of it as quickly as she put it on. You gestured for her to come to your side of the bed, “Just when I think you can’t get more gorgeous, you walk out looking like that.”

Melissa crawled into bed with you, straddling your lap for a moment to give you hope before sliding off to land on her side of the bed, “I have work in the morning. I don’t need any of your funny business. ”

You ‘tsked’ her response and pulled away the covers so she wouldn’t be able to hide. You rapidly maneuvered so you would be on your knees before her so your hands could guide her thighs open. She was smirking as she put up no fight against your efforts. She even lifted her sweatshirt to reveal more of herself to you; that move alone told you she wasn’t truly opposed to your ‘funny business’.

Settling onto your stomach, you lean your cheek against her thigh, staring intently at her panties, “Funny business? There is nothing funny about this...”

“Mm… Prove it.” A manicured hand wove into your hair, drawing your face closer to her heat. Her back arched involuntarily and caused her hips to shift downwards closer to your mouth.

“Happily.” You murmured, hooking your fingers around the waistband of her underwear and pulling them down her legs the best you could. They were at her knees when you lowered your face to her cunt once again. As a professional in pleasuring Melissa, you skillfully wound your arms around her thighs before using your fingers to spread her cunt open for your tongue to go to work.

You felt Melissa’s thighs squeeze your head for a moment as she worked to remove her underwear without trying to impact your ability to give head. The feeling of her legs around her head drove you insane. You tried to let her know how much you craved her as your hands shifted back to her thighs so you could feel your fingers compress into her soft flesh.

Melissa relaxed back into the bed, completely melting into your touch. Her hands rose above her head to grip the bed frame - a silent way of giving you complete control.

She was already sleepy from your lovemaking from nearly an hour ago, so this time Mel was far less energetic and performative. It was mesmerizing watching her head softly turn back and forth while soft breathy moans escaped her mouth. This was exactly what made Melissa so addicting for you.

You watched her crane her neck so she could press her face into her pillow to catch the fabric between her teeth. In response, you swirl your tongue around her clit before giving her clit a hard suck. She gave a strained and exhausted growl that faded into a quiet whine - her quietness all centered around preventing her roommate from hearing.

You attempted to move your mouth away to give her reprieve, but her hips lifted off the mattress to impede too much separation.

Part of you wondered how far you could push Melissa. To satiate your curiosity, you gently scraped your teeth against her clit, earning a hiss then a whiney moan. You were clearly pushing your luck with how much she could handle. When you continued with your teasing licks, your eyes flickered back up to her face to enjoy the view. Her chest was heaving and her bottom lip jutted out into a pathetic pout as her hips began grinding against your tongue as she sought out an orgasm.

For a split second you considered confessing your love to Melissa like you did all those years ago, but you kept yourself from doing so. She needed to come to you. Instead you opted to pay her a compliment instead, “You’re so good for me, pretty girl…”

Your heart fluttered as you watched a smile spread across her face. She then attempted to silence a rumble deep in her throat and hide her simper, but it was fruitless as the compliments continued falling off your lips. You breathily mumbled about her hips and thighs, briefly pausing to stroke your tongue up and down her drippy cunt, and continued your mad ramblings about how beautiful you found her to be.

In your moments of desperation, your words had caused Melissa’s face to grow hot from embarrassment. It was easy accepting compliments when the moment lacked the vulnerability of sex and nudity, but when your face was buried between her legs the flattering remarks felt all too real. She tried to brush them aside, only to have them linger at the outskirts of her mind.

As you refocused your attention on her clit with the addition of two fingers gently inching deeper into her pussy, Melissa was struggling to escape the thoughts of your feelings towards her. She despised how light it made her feel. She hated that she felt herself being drawn closer to orgasm from the adoration she felt from you.

Her fierce independence was battling the all-consuming craving to feel desired.

While you were not privy to her inner turmoil, you only worked harder to bring her pleasure. Your fingers gently curled within her, stroking that special spot you discovered during your youth. A coil tightened within Melissa, her hand shooting down to grip your spare wrist to steady herself.

You chose to lose yourself in giving head once again. Her breasts gently shook with each light shift of her body - a mesmerizing sight. You were lapping and kissing at her clit softly as you hoped to draw out this experience as much as possible. However, Melissa was unable to take anymore as an orgasm washed over her and her back swiftly lifted off the bed and quickly arched back into the mattress, pushing her hips to your mouth.

You slowed down the movements of your tongue, but you didn’t stop entirely. You wanted to slowly bring her down from her peak (and selfishly you wanted you to continue enjoying the feeling of her thighs clamped down on the sides of your head). When her back finally relaxed against the mattress, you slipped your hand from her cunt to reluctantly help guide her thighs into a resting position. You gave her thighs a couple of gentle bites, encouraging to ease up on you, “Come on, pretty girl…”

Melissa whimpered as her legs shakily parted, nervous you would attempt to continue regardless of her exhaustion. You only nuzzled her thighs, slowly smothering them with kisses in a way that gave Melissa butterflies.

She was quick to try and move herself out of such a vulnerable position. “Let’s get cleaned up. I’m already way up past my bedtime.” Melissa gave your arm a pat, encouraging you to get up as she shifted her hips to the left as if she were attempting to move off the bed.

You rolled off the redhead and sat up, taking that as her subtle hint for you to head home. After following Melissa to the bathroom and using the sink to wash your face and hands, you began gathering your clothes to make your exit. This only confused the redhead as she pulled back the comforter for both sides of the bed as she expected you to join her, “Whered’ya think your goin’?”

“Oh…” Your eyes widened and you began removing your sweatpants that you just put on. You undressed and joined the redhead in bed, earning a satisfied hum from her.

When you were settled on your back, Melissa was on her side facing away from you. She found a way to make physical contact with you by backing up in bed so her back was pressed to your side. She shifted in bed for a few moments as she tried to find a comfortable position, and after she did she mumbled sleepily, “Be warned. I wake up at 6.”

You started your sentence mid-yawn, “That’s a shocker.”

She had one final quip for you as sleep threatened to overtake her, “I don’t just wake up looking this beautiful.”

With a chuckle, you gave her ass a pat, mumbling out your final few words before allowing yourself to enjoy some silence before you fell asleep, “I doubt that…”

You woke up the next morning with Melissa already off to work, but when you checked your phone you had a message from Mel waiting for you.

Melissa: Couldn’t bear to wake you up. You should have told me you were that cute when you slept. I would’ve let you stay sooner.

Y/N: I don’t believe that for a second.

Y/N: Don’t worry. I’m getting ready right now and I’ll be out soon.

You quickly sent the second message as you didn’t want to seem too over confident nor did you want to overstay your welcome.

Melissa: No rush. There is lunch for you in the fridge. I marked the tupperware.

You grinned at your phone like a lovestruck idiot. Quickly you threw on your clothes and wandered down to the kitchen to see what Melissa had left for you in the fridge. Sitting on the top shelf was undoubtedly a tupperware full of her insanely good spaghetti with a bright pink sticky note stuck to the top marked with your name and a little heart.

Y/N: Thank you! Will I see you later?

Melissa: Open house tonight. See you Saturday?

Melissa: I’ll let you take me to dinner.

The thought of waiting two days to see Melissa next was brutal, but you would take what you got as rarely did she ever make plans with you in advance.

Y/N: Let me? What an honor.

Melissa: Believe me. I know.

You were smiling at your phone through the rest of the day as Melissa texted you about little things happening at school. Sometimes the stories she told you about Abbott were hard to believe.

Her attention made you feel lovesick as you were constantly checking your phone, smiling at the thought of her getting into shenanigans and doing her terrible impressions for her work friends. The thought of going on a weekend getaway with her was only sounding better and better.

Link to Chapter 7

Taglist: Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore, @jeridandridge @petty-femme27, @darkcolorphantom, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @cosmichymns

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #toxic relationship? kinda #little bit of smut <3

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