#but Arthur makes him feel young again - like who he was with him

[noodles-and-tea]

Returning home

[iggyywrites]

Keep Up!

Pairings: Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Summary: Logan knew moving in with Wade was going to be a bad idea….his next door neighbor doesn’t help with that either

Warnings: 18+ fic, fem!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, age gap (reader is in her 20s), mentions of alcohol, male masturbation, Logan listens to reader getting fucked, daddy kink, Logan fingers reader, p in v penetration, creampie, making out, nipple play.

An: No one make fun of me for not being able to do Wade’s witty remarks justice, I am just a girl.

Logan knew this wasn’t a good idea.

There was virtually no timeline that existed currently where living with Wade fucking Wilson was a good idea for Logan. He could barely handle speaking to him for thirty minutes, let alone sharing a living space with him.

However, behind the man’s rapid fire tongue that had a copious amount of shit talking to go with it, he was genuine, and as much as Logan hated to admit it…

He didn’t really have anyone in this timeline but Wade.

So, after quite a bit of groaning and grumbling under his own breath, he finally agreed to moving in with Wade, which didn’t take long at all, seeing as he came to this timeline against his will with nothing but his bright yellow hero suit on his body.

To Logan’s surprise, things weren’t terrible his first week there. Wade was annoying, that much was true and inevitable, however he had his own shit to do, which had him out of Logan’s hair most of the time, leaving him all on his own in the tiny two bedroom apartment.

Logan was starting to realize that maybe all of this wasn’t as bad as he cut it out to be. Things started to feel particularly good on the Friday night following the end of his first week there. Wade was nowhere to be found, he had the living room to himself and a nice bottle of whiskey to grant him the sweetest dreams (or lack there of) meaning he could simply enjoy his own company in the comfort of silence that was rare living with Wade. He sighed softly as he sat back, legs spread wide as he took a sip of his drink, sinking down into the couch in a pool of pure bliss-

A knock at the door ripped him away from all of that almost immediately.

He groaned softly, lifting his head as he turned to look at the door, brows furrowed for a moment as he silently threatened whoever it was behind it to knock it again. When they did, he turned his head in the opposite direction to face the clock on the wall, noticing that it was already going into the later hours of the night.

No one should be knocking their door this late.

By the third round of knocks to the door, Logan was fixing his posture, annoyance coursing through his veins at the disruption of his night. Whoever it was that was choosing to knock this many times on their door was in for it at this point.

However, Wade was beating him to it. The man swiftly slipped past Logan, pushing the older man back down into the couch, forcing Logan to fall back with a low groan, the gesture not helping with his growing annoyance.

“She’s here! She’s here!” Wade squealed out like an excited child, skipping and clapping his hands together as he made his way to the door.

“Who the fuck is that-“ Logan’s words were cut off but Wade practically hissing at the man as he whipped his head around to face him.

“Keep your fucking voice down! This is one of the only things I look forward to and I will not let Arthur Morgan ruin this for me. So shut your mouth, and drink your go-go juice, alright angel?” Wade seethed out as he gestured towards Logan’s bottle of whiskey before he turned around, tucking a strand of invisible hair behind his ear before he sighed softly, reaching forward and opening the door.

That’s when you walk in.

Behind the door is you. You’re pretty, young, bright smile plastered on your face, cheeks beaming with happiness as you bounce on your heels, snacks and drinks practically spilling from your arms as you struggle to hold them. Logan doesn’t stop himself from craning his neck forward to get a look at you, watching as you stare up at Wade like he’s your favorite person in the entire world.

Both you and Wade squeal in a way that sounds way too similar, and if Logan wasn’t so fucking confused right now he’d most definitely comment on it.

“There she is! Come to Daddy my little buttercup!” Wade groans as he lifts you up into his arms. A noise that’s a cross between a groan and a giggle leaves your lips as he squishes you to his chest, your eyes fluttering shut as you let him squeeze you tight.

“Wade! You’re…crushing me..” you wheeze out, all while having a bright smile on your face.

“Crushing ensues when you don’t visit me for two weeks. I was planning on shimmying my tight little ass down the air ducts to land straight into your bedroom so we can finish these last two episodes” Wade hummed our matter of factly, casually keeping you pressed against his chest as he kicked the door shut and carried you into the house before setting you down.

Logan’s watching the entire thing play out from the couch, eyebrows raised as he watches someone finally match the man’s hyperactive energy levels.

“I had a cold! I didn’t want to get you sick” you giggle out softly as you turn to face him as you walk into the apartment, still completely oblivious to the other man sitting on the couch.

“Princess have you taken a look at this mug? Influenza sees me and it runs” he grins at you whilst pointing at his face, which only earns a gentle nudge to his side with your elbow.

You finally turn towards the man on the couch, a look of surprise on your face as you take in his face, his form. It doesn’t take very long for you to come to the realization that whoever it is that’s been sitting here this entire time, is one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen.

You never thought in your entire life that you’d see the Wolverine in person.

“Oh! How rude of me…I didn’t know you were busy Wade” Your voice is soft as you apologize, eyes wide and worried that you’d interrupted something you had no business stepping into. Logan can already see the way your sneaker clad feet are turning to leave, giving both him and Wade an apologetic smile.

“Oh no you don’t. You aren’t using that sweet little understanding bit with me. If Wolvie wants to join in on our weekly Vanderpump Rules watch party, then he can. If he doesn’t, then the honey badger can kick rocks” Wade bends down a bit, giving you an assuring nod as he places his hand on the small of your back.

Logan rolls his eyes as he throws back the rest of his whiskey. “I’m way ahead of you asshole” Logan grumbles out, annoyed with many things already.

“Hold on there beautiful, don’t be rude. Everything that is good and pure in the world is standing in the middle of our apartment and you aren’t going to introduce yourself?” Wade scoffs out in disbelief, his words making you roll your eyes as you give him another nudge.

“Wade it’s fine, he doesn’t have to-“ you try, seeing just how little patience the man had from the few words he’d given you since you walked in.

“My name is Logan, I live here now” he nodded, his words short and brief.

You hate yourself because him acting this way is only making you want him more.

You inhale deeply before you give him a soft smile, the snacks you’d brought still clutched close to your chest, fingers pressing against the crinkly material of the various packages as you nod.

“It’s nice to meet you Logan. My names (y/n). I hope to see you around the building more often” you beam, your response a bit too bubbly and excited for someone who’d been hit with the driest, most bland introduction from a man probably ever.

Logan watches you closely for a bit, eyes taking in your bright expression, your excited eyes that are practically shining with stars in them. You’re young, and eager and Logan knows exactly what kind of girl you are just by the way you’re smiling at him. He’d run into a million different versions of you at bars and clubs, out on the streets when he was on missions, anywhere that he was able to be perceived, he ran into someone like you.

That in and of itself lets Logan know that he needs to stay far away from you.

He gives you a nod before pushes himself off of the couch, lazily grabbing the bottle of whiskey as he begins walking out of the living room towards his bedroom.

He can already hear your feet stepping forward on the wooden floor, so he braces himself for what he knows what’s coming next.

“You’re more than welcome to stay! I know it’s corny but the show is actually very entertaining” you giggle out softly as you offer yours and Wade’s tradition to Logan as well.

“I’m good sweetheart” he mumbles out without even turning around, raising his hand up as he gives you a back handed wave, rounding the corner to his bedroom. “Was nice meeting you” he makes out before slamming his door shut, the noise making you flinch.

You frown softly as you turn to face Wade. “Was it something I said?” You whisper out, worried you might have offended the man

Wade rolls his eyes at his roommates reaction, turning towards you as he extends his hand out, his palm going nearly rigid as he gives you a stiff pat to the head. “We can’t all be as excited about life as you are, angel. Life sucked the fun out of that one before you probably learned how to drive” he sighed out before he pulled you over to the couch.

“Now! If I don’t have Lisa Vanderpump meddling in the love lives of her alcoholic lounge employees in the next five seconds I am going to blow this entire complex up. Let’s get to it sugar plum” he nodded to himself as he forces you down into the couch, grabbing his remote and getting right down to the festivities of that fine Friday night.

You however, had a particularly harder time than usual paying attention to the shitty reality tv show that you and Wade bonded over, and there was only one person to blame.

Logan.

Logan is shocked to be the only one awake the next morning.

His head is pounding from all the whiskey he drank, and he knew he’d be nursing quite the hangover from it all. What he didn’t know however, was that Wade would be slumped in his bed much longer from a night with you than he was.

He’s alone in the kitchen for maybe two hours when Wade finally emerges from his bedroom, a long drawn out groan following as he massages his temples, eyes screwed tight due to the bright sun spilling in.

“Jesus fucking Christ….can’t anyone afford some fucking curtains here? I feel like I’m staring into Satan’s asshole” He groans out, eyes finally opening to watch the mountain of a man standing over a bowl of cereal in the kitchen.

“Why hello there sunshine, did the whiskey bottle tug you out of bed early this morning? You’re almost never conscious while the sun is still up” Logan rolls his eyes at his roommates words, bringing the bowl to his lips and slurping up the rest of the milk before he put the empty bowl into the sink behind him, large hand going down to wrap around his coffee mug.

“Look who’s talkin’….you and your friend seemed to have just as much fun as I did” he sighs out, voice gravely and rough.

Wade smiles brightly as he nods, making his way into the kitchen as he lets out a happy sigh. “A (y/n) hangover would bring you to your knees grandpa….although I have the feeling you might not be too opposed to that with how your filthy eyes were eating her up….shes cute isn’t she? Single too. If Vanessa hadn’t swept me off my feet and stolen my heart I would have been ten toes deep into her by now” Wade rambles out as he searches the pantry for something to fill his stomach with.

Logan isn’t shocked to hear that you’re single, and in the best way possible of course. You were very very attractive, however the way that you looked at him let him know everything he needed to know about you.

“I don’t think I asked. She’s not my type” Logan sighs out softly before taking a sip of his coffee.

That wasn’t true at all, not entirely at least. Logan found you attractive from the moment he laid eyes on you. Only an idiot could look at you and try to convince themselves that you weren’t a beautiful girl. However, Logan knew what kind of girl you were. You were a young girl who probably had some sort of fantasy to fuck a ‘dilf’ (as Wade called them) and you’d bat your pretty lashes and pout your lips to get Logan to melt for you, but that was only the half of it. You only wanted to fuck him, to have someone experienced work on your body just to leave and venture out on your own once you were done with him.

Logan was old and miserable and hard to deal with, all things that he was very aware of. Being with him was not a fucking cake walk, and he knew that those twinkles in your eyes when you saw him were all driven by raging hormones that would dissipate once you realized how much of a piece of shit he was.

Logan was too old for this, and he was too old for you.

“Not your type? Of course she’s your type! She’s everyone’s type. That’s like saying Beyoncé isn’t your type and I will not allow you to disrespect the queen…the bee hive is fucking scaring” Wade practically whimpered out before he let out a groan.

“Is it the age gap? Because if it is, they sell pills for that sweetie. It’s a normal part of life that we all go through! There’s nothing to be ashamed of and I’m sure she would understand-“ Wade’s words are cut off by Logan lifting up his hand, the sharp sound of his claws shooting through his knuckles filling the air, making Wade yelp and flinch.

“Keep talking and I swear to god I will cut your dick off every single day so that you don’t even get the chance to use those pills” Logan practically growls out.

“Relax! Jesus Christ you are violent. I’m starting to rethink giving you my spare room asshole” Wade breaths out before he sighs, lifting his hands up in defense before he speaks again.

“Look…all I’m saying, is that a bit of a crush is starting to brew, and she’s a sweet girl! I know for a fact that baby making factory is filled with dust and fucking cobwebs, don’t you think it’s time to get those gears runnin’ again?” Wade rolls his arm like a train as he puts on his best southern accent, which only further annoys Logan.

“She doesn’t even know me. She’ll get over it” Logan nods confidently, ignoring every word that leaves Wade’s mouth as he finishes his coffee, putting it in the sink where he put his cereal bowl earlier.

Wade groans in annoyance. “I am being such a good wing man right now, hooking you up with her? Most people’s friends hook them up with Freddy fucking Krueger and they still end up getting married. I’m giving you a real life fairy from a fucking Barbie movie and you’re turning her down??” Wade practically pleads with the man as he watches him starting to leave the kitchen.

“Hook her up with someone else. I’ll be back later” Logan groans out, not at all wanting to continue this conversation with his roommate any longer.

“Yeah fuck you too grandpa. I hope you get hit by a fucking bus on your way out” Wade groans out as he shovels a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, the man clearly taking offense to Logan not wanting to get to know you better.

“We’ll see if she lets you off this easy…” Wade mumbled under his breath, a soft smirk on his face.

Wade knew you better than anyone, and he knew that you were a whole different ball field of sweetness that Logan was most definitely not ready to handle.

And sweet you were.

By the end of the week, Logan was honestly starting to forget about you and the small cyclone you’d set off in his head ever since he’d seen you that night. He was busy with things around the neighborhood and trying his best to get used to the new world that he was living in. His plate was full and he had no time to think about the silly girl that lived next door to him.

However you didn’t let him forget for much longer.

Because come Friday night, your knuckle is rapping against the door like clock work, interrupting Logan’s alone time in the same way you had the week prior. It’s a silent gesture that it is his cue to leave and give you and Wade the living room for the night.

Logan just about catches a glimpse of you when Wade opens the door, and he notices very quickly how different you look from last time.

Last time, you’d opted for a pretty casual look. Wade had mentioned that you worked at a bar in the city, so he could only assume you came straight from there. Your denim shorts were cute, fit your ass well and he was sure you got many tips from those alone, and your purple halter top went well with your skin tone, but it was nothing fancy or out of the ordinary, just simply a girl in some clothes.

Now? Now you were putting in some effort.

The linen white dress you wore fit you snug at your middle, pushing out your tits a bit, hugging you in all the right places before falling down and flowing out right above your knees. You even went as far as to wear a bit of makeup, your eyelids sparkling a bit, lips glossy.

You’d put in all that effort, just for him.

“Jesus Christ…” Logan mumbled under his breath in disbelief, hating that you’d gone this far for him.

“Are you kidding me! I get your sweaty work clothes and he gets this?? You know he takes the animal thing seriously right? Pees to mark his territory and everything. I am much more pleasant, I promise” Wade complains as he leads you into the apartment, eyes falling down to the small container of cookies in your arms.

“Are these….fuck off. I have been begging you for weeks, and suddenly Jacob from twilight moves in and you’re making them??” Wade gasps out, face slowly turning up to look over at Logan as you giggle softly.

“I made them when you first moved in so I wanted to do the same for Logan…I hope you have a sweet tooth?” You questioned carefully, giving Logan a shy smile as you outstretch your arms to hand the cookies to him.

Wade is watching Logan like he’s your fucking guard dog, ready to pounce on the man the second he even tries to say something mean to an angelic soul like you.

It makes Logan sigh softly, eyes drifting down to the cookies before looking back up at you. “My doctor said I’m not allowed” he lies before bringing his glass of whiskey to his lips, acting as the biggest contradiction as he finishes the remnants of it before he picks up the bottle and turns around to leave.

“Don’t make any noise. I’m going to bed” he mumbles out once more before he slams his bedroom door much like he did the first time you arrived.

Wade groaned as he brought his hands up to pinch the bridge of his nose, quickly reaching out and placing a hand on your soft, exposed shoulder.

“Thank god. I was getting worried I wouldn’t have all of these to myself. Come on, Tom Sandoval doesn’t wait for anybody” he nods his head towards the tv, urging you to sit with him and distract you from how utterly stupid that lie was that Logan spit at you without a second thought.

Wade sighs as he notices the soft pout on your face, your fingers nervously toying with the ends of your dress as you struggle to relax, your head probably overflowing with every reason why Logan would hate you. He reaches out, tugging you closer to rest your head against his shoulder.

“Hey, he’s just a tough one to crack. He’ll come around soon peanut, I promise” he assured you before he shoved his hand into the bowl of cookies, pressing one to your lips.

“Now, say ahh. You deserve to eat one after all the hard work you did, little Betty Crocker” he teases you, making you giggle softly as you shoo his hand away before taking the cookie to eat yourself, finally relaxing into the couch as you let out a gentle sigh.

Logan really hoped that it would stop there, but it doesn’t.

He knows you aren’t stupid, everyone on the entire planet knows that the Wolverine doesn’t go to the fucking doctor. He could drink battery acid if he wanted to and he’d be fine, so him using the excuse of his doctor telling him he couldn’t eat sugar to not eat your food was a crock of shit, but he did it for two reasons.

One, because he didn’t want to have to accept anything from you, it would only had fuel to a fire that Logan knew he couldn’t put out once burnt too brightly. Two, was to kill any glamorizations you had for being with someone of his age. He was an old man, despite being a fucking killing machine, he was an old man. All he wanted to do was drink, smoke, fight a bit when the time called for it, and sleep, and he really could not fit a little girlfriend into that schedule, nor could he rob you of what you wanted and deserved with someone your own age instead of him.

Logan was starting to come to the conclusion that you probably weren’t as smart as he thought you were.

Because unfortunately, you don’t stop there.

For about an entire month, the weeks are filled with you constantly knocking on the door. It slowly goes from you bringing treats on your Friday nights with Logan, to you popping up on various days thought out the week instead.

Logan quickly learns that your love language is food, and you show that by constantly trying to feed him.

First it was the cookies, then you were knocking on his door way too early in the morning, beaming with a bright smile as you shoved a container of breakfast sandwiches into his naked chest.

“These are for you! I made enough for both you and Wade” you smile brightly, plump bottom lip tugged beneath your teeth as you give him a wave before he can deny the food or give it back.

After that, you were dropping off lunch for him. He wasn’t entirely sure how you were doing it, but you managed to always knock whenever Wade wasn’t around, most likely because the two of you were so close you had Wade’s schedule practically memorized, which meant that you were forcing Logan to interact with you whether he liked it or not.

“I’m off to work and I made too much! I hope you like spaghetti” you giggle softly before giving him another one of your signature waves, skipping off down the hallway to leave for work, once again leaving Logan dumbfounded as he stares down at the Tupperware of warm food in his hands.

It was getting to the point where you were practically keeping both him and Wade fed almost completely, rarely failing to share the food you’d made for yourself with them, and always sprinkling in some of your freshly baked pastries and desserts throughout all of that.

The worst part about it? Logan isn’t sure he’s ever had anything so tasty in his entire life.

You seriously knew what the hell you were doing behind a stove or at the oven, and it almost pissed Logan off to admit how much he appreciated the literal meal plan you’d set up for him.

As much as he likes it though, Logan could see exactly what accepting all of this was doing.

He saw it in the way that you’d linger longer and longer every time you dropped something off. What was once a shy little smile and a quick goodbye had now turned into you going into lengthy rants about work or the latest recipe you were stuck on, which Logan found himself always sticking around and listening to despite the fact that he rarely spoke.

That alone made your eyes twinkle, and he could hear how quickly it made your heart beat every time he leaned against the opposite side of the door from you, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he prepared himself for the words that would come out of your mouth on that day.

Logan gave an inch, and you took a mile, and that was the problem. Any attention he gave, he knew you’d take to the extreme, looking far too deep into the details of him being slightly less of an asshole that he usually was.

And on a night where Logan was laying in his bed, his mind replaying the countless times you’d stood at his door to give him food, using it all as an excuse to talk to him for a few minutes and get his attention on you, he knew it was time to cut you down from the root, and stop any dreams you had of the two of them ever amounting to anything more than next door neighbors.

He knew you’d be back eventually, it was only a matter of time until you were back with your latest meal for him. He found himself reciting what he’d say to you over and over again, cementing it into his brain as he pressed his palms against the island top one morning, eyes staring off into space as he mindlessly grabbed his coffee and took a sip.

knock knock knock!

The sound is familiar and it practically haunts Logan in his fucking dreams, the soft sound of your fists rapping against the door. He sighs softly because he knows you’re behind it, big bright smile on your face as you hold god knows what in your hands to gift to him.

“Morning Logan!” You beam, bright eyed and bushy tailed as you give him a small wave before you look down at the container before stretching your arms out to hand to him.

“You seemed interested last time I mentioned that breakfast quesadilla recipe I was working on…and I think I got it!” You’re so excited, and Logan lets out a soft sigh as he eyes you carefully before he pushes his hand gently against the container so that it’s back against your chest.

“I…look kid….I don’t…” his words trail off, feeling bad as you simply stare up at him with those big eyes and that happy smile, looking at him as if he’s the only person you want to see right now, waiting for him to say whatever it is he can’t do.

“You’ve gotta stop this” he tries to reason with you, his forearm pressed against the top of the door as he stares down at you.

You furrow your eyebrows as you watch him, shaking your head a bit as your voice goes low. “I….what?” Your voice trembles a bit, because you know what’s happening, you’ve been here before. You’ve gotten yourself into this same fucked up mess of liking someone so much that you couldn’t even see that they didn’t like you back, going on a power trip of showering them with so much affection that you didn’t even realize they’d been trying to stop you from the very beginning.

It was happening again.

Logan knows that he can’t let you down easy. You’re too sweet, too understanding, and he knows that if he isn’t blunt with you, giving you the harsh truth, that you’ll just feed into the nice things that he says rather than looking at the bigger picture.

So he sighs, looking over your head for a moment before he finally looks back down at you.

“You’re just…you’re not my kind of girl, alright? Someone like you, could never be with someone like me and that just is the way it is….so quit it with the food deliveries, alright?” He’s stern, speaking to you like a child who refuses to listen, voice growing louder and rougher as he towers over you.

“There’s nothing you can make for me or do for me that will make me want you” He adds salt to the wound with that one, wanting his words to get through to you loud and clear

Logan knows it’s already coming, those big eyes filling with tears that make your eyes shimmer like swimming pools, mouth opening and closing as you struggle to find the words to respond with before you give a slight nod, quickly looking away once the tears spill out into your cheeks, your hands coming up to wipe them away roughly.

“I…fuck…I’m sorry..” is all you say before you quickly rush away from the door, mortified as you open your own apartment door and slam it behind you, the sound making Logan groan softly before he closes his own door.

Of course you apologized. Here he was, crushing your dreams for his own sake and you fucking apologized. It only further cemented how wrong you and him were if he were to ever give you a chance, you were too good, too nice, and Logan could only hope that you found someone else who could give you what you wanted and what you deserved.

As for him? He wanted to focus on the relief he’d soon feel settle in now that he didn’t have to face you every other day anymore. He could only hope that you little stunts would come to a halt after all of this.

Logan doesn’t really have to hope for you to not come around, because he doesn’t see you for a long time after that.

At first he assumed it would just be a day or two until you were back for Wade, the two of you never going long without at least chatting in the hallway for a quick recap of your day or your week, however it’s the end of the week and neither Logan nor Wade have heard from you at all.

There are no knocks at the door, no more pastries or yummy meals with your name written all over them, it’s almost as if you don’t even live in the same complex anymore.

And when that Friday rolls around and you never show up either? Logan knows he’s fucked up.

Logan is thankful that Wade isn’t too freaked out over you being absent that week, seeing as he’d explain that this wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary for you. Although Logan knew what it was that pushed you away from the apartment, he was more than willing to let Wade believe work had drained you a bit more than usual that week, pulling you away from him.

By the third week though? Wade is pissed.

It’s Friday night, and he’s pacing the living room in front of Logan, his arms crossed as he shakes his head.

“I don’t get it! She’s only ever gone two weeks without coming by and that’s because she had a cold, and she told me! I haven’t heard from her in so long, I feel like I’m a fucking military wife waiting for her husband to write her back!” Wade whined out, desperate for an answer behind your disappearance.

Logan couldn’t even look at Wade, guilt eating away at him as his fingers wrapped around the ice beer bottle in his hand, simply letting the man walk around searching for answers when the reason behind his friends absence was sitting right in front of him.

“Fuck this. If she wants to stop being my friend she’s going to have to man the fuck up and tell me herself. Im going over there myself” he huffs out in annoyance, moving towards the front door.

Logan is on his feet before Wade can make it any further, stepping between him and the door as he shakes his head.

He knew that what happened needed to come from him, not you.

“Slow down…I…I know why she’s not coming around anymore” Logan makes out slowly, his words makes Wade raise his eyebrows.

“Anymore? What the fuck did you do, kill her or something??” Wade’s eyes are wide, and it makes Logan roll his eyes at the dramatics before he shoves him over towards the couch.

“Go sit down” he orders before he follows behind, singing softly as he sits next to Wade, avoiding his eyes as he speaks.

“She was coming around a lot and I…I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea so…I just…I told her she needed to stop” Logan shrugged nonchalantly as he gave a horrible retelling of what happened between the two of you.

Wade on the other hand, knew you very well, and he knew that you were probably the most understanding person on the entire fucking planet, so Logan had to probably say some fucked up shit to make you avoid them like the fucking plague, so bad that he probably made you-

“You fucking idiot. You made her cry, didn’t you” Wade visibly gets angry when he comes to this conclusion, making Logan snap his head in his direction quickly because how the fuck did he come to that conclusion so quickly?

“I…so you did talk to her?” Logan questions carefully, his words making Wade groan loudly as he stands up, pressing his face in his hands.

“You are….oh my god you are probably the dumbest person I have ever fucking met. Charles Xavier would be very ashamed of this behavior Logan!” Wade practically sobbed before he shook his head once again.

“You do realize she’s just a girl, right? She’s not some villainous asshole trying to do experiments on you or something. A simple ‘I’m not interested’ would have sufficed” Wade groans out in annoyance before he walks back towards the door.

“I am going to try and save one of the only friendships I have, and leave you here to think about how you are going to save ours, because after this stunt I am not sure I will ever let you touch me again” he huffs out softly before whipping his head away from him in disgust before he swings the door open, slams it shut and leaves to your apartment, leaving Logan there by himself.

Wade’s words echo in his head, making him realize that you really are just a girl, a girl who had an innocent crush that he brutally stepped on and smashed into a thousand little pieces when he could have easily told you he wasn’t interested in you.

Logan hated it, but he felt guilty.

He’s happy to hear that you and Wade were able to mend things together, the two of you opting to spend weekends in your home rather than his from now on, leaving Logan to the peace and quiet that he’d always wanted.

Although, it isn’t what he wanted, it isn’t what he wanted at all because he finds that he’s missing something. He’s missing the smell of your cookies or cinnamon rolls or whatever the fuck it is that you bring over, he’s missing the sound of yours and Wade’s laugh across the way as he tries to sleep, and he especially misses the little front door chats you and him would share whenever you stopped by for him.

Because over the course of the time that he’d lived there, he’d see you at least once every week, your bright smile filling his days and making him feel warm inside.

But now the last memory he had of you was you crying in front of him before running away.

Logan tries to drown out those annoying thoughts as he usually does, with alcohol. He comes home drunk on a Saturday night, stumbling in through the front door as he tugs off his leather jacket, kicks off his boots and stumbles into his bedroom to fall face first into his bed.

He’s able to forget about you for a bit, annoyed that your pretty face had been plaguing him for days on end. Right now he just wants to sleep and enjoy the warm floaty feeling that comes with a good cup of-

“Oh my god” Logan makes out the faint sound of your voice through the thin walls of the apartment.

He realized the first night he’d moved in that his bedroom was adjacent to yours when he was going to sleep and he could hear you shuffling about your bedroom.

Every night he’d hear little things, sometimes he’d hear the small sound of your music while you got ready, or he’d hear you giggling softly to someone as you spoke to them on the phone, he’d even heard a loud thud followed by an annoyed groan from you, which he could only assume was you stubbing your toe or running into something.

Logan had heard you a lot, and while most times he was too drunk or tired to ignore it, the sounds he was hearing now were….they were foreign for you. He’d never heard your voice pitched that way, high and whiny…he wondered if you were okay, were you crying?

“Fuck…fuck!”

There it was again.

It had Logan frowning as he turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he squinted a bit, straining to hear more of what was going on.

“That’s it baby…so good for me…” another voice groaned out, muffled and lower, too deep to have been your own. That, paired with a slow rhythmic thumping, and Logan wasn’t confused anymore.

You were getting fucked.

Logan tried very hard not to think about you this way, splayed out on a bed in front of him, eyes red and glossy as you beg for him to give you more, needy for any sort of attention that he'd give you. He knew that you were something he couldn't feed into...

Because he knew he'd like it too much.

Yet here you were, moaning so pretty for another fucking man with a bit of dry wall separating the two of you, and it was making Logan's head spin.

His chest swelled with different emotions, anger, annoyance, jealousy, envy.....

Lust

You sounded so fucking pretty, and as much as he hated that it was someone else making you feel that way, subjecting him to a fucking audio porno, he couldn't deny the tent that was growing in his jeans.

Logan groaned softly as he propped himself up, eyes low as he stared down at his throbbing cock through his jeans, begging to be touched, begging to take the place of the idiot that was in your bed making you moan like that.

Another loud moan rumbled through the walls, making Logan's eyes flutter shut and roll to the back of his head as he took in your noises.

He wondered how you'd sound for him, what you would say, if you would beg for him. God, you probably sounded so fucking good when you begged, so pretty, so fucking sweet for him. You were so eager for him, so eager to please, there was no doubt in Logan's mind that you would be the perfect girl for him.

You were practically begging him for it the weeks prior.

His hand made its way to his jeans, undoing his belt and popping them open before tugging his cock out, hissing softly as he laid back, head resting against the pillow as his fist wrapped around his length, slowly working on his sensitive skin as he let his mind travel to more thoughts of you as your moans sang him the symphony that matched perfectly with it.

His fist moved up and down over his length, spreading his precum as he thought about what you'd taste like, how you'd feel pressed against his tongue while he did just this. He imagined you'd taste perfect, the best pussy he's ever had if you'd ever let him.

Another string of moans makes its way into his bedroom, and it has him bucking his hands up into his fists, growing closer as he chases his orgasm to the sound of your voice.

Logan felt like a fucking pervert, stroking his cock while you were getting fucked by someone else right next door. That could have easily been him had he not fucked things up with you royally, he thought.

"Im gonna cum..." you mewl out, Logan can practically hear the pathetic little pout on your lips as you announce it, and he can't stop himself from groaning out softly as he bites back a moan in fears that you'll hear him too.

"Me too baby..." He growls out between gritted teeth.

He's fucking his hand at this point, the sounds of your moans and visions of you under him driving him closer to where he needed to go, he finally cums when he hears you moan loudly, knowing that was it. Thick ribbons of his pearly cum fly out of him, making the man sigh softly as he slowly rides out his orgasm with a few strong strokes from his hand.

Logan is old and gross and truly can't be bothered with the clean up, so he opts to grab a nearby t shirt and clean himself off before he tugs his jeans off, tosses them into the corner with the rest of his clothes and turns onto his side, pulling his pillow over his ears in fears of you and that jackass going another round while he sleeps.

He wants to sleep before embarrassment can take over, because he knows what he's done is beneath pathetic. He would much rather deal with it all in the morning.

Because despite how embarrassed he feels, he needs to orchestrate some sort of plan to speak to you.

Logan knew that getting you to talk to him was not going to be an easy feat. You ran from him any time you two ended up in the hallway together, and you made it a point to never be in the same place with him for two long.

So he had to be smart with this, and he needed a full proof way to get you to speak for him for more than a few seconds.

He figured trying to convince you as himself was a lost cause, there was no way you would even give him the time of day to ask for a bottle of water let alone talk to you about his feelings.

However, you would most definitely listen to him if he were Wade.

Now, Wade most definitely would not do this for Logan. There was no way in hell Wade would risk your feelings for that, he was way too protective over you for that. He was weary of Logan when it came to you now, and rarely brought you up unless Logan asked....

Which he did quite a bit now.

He was able to snag Wade's phone while he was taking a shower, getting ready for one of his little dates with Vanessa (they were going to meet up at a bar and then fuck the entire weekend).

Logan had limited time, because Wade was already on Rewrite the Stars off The Greatest Showman soundtrack, so he had to work fast.

He stood outside of the bathroom with the door cracked to swiftly put the phone back when he was done, the man groaning in annoyance as he clicked through Wade's endless screens of stupid games with clickbait-y ads that are designed to lure children in to find his messages.

When he finally finds them, he's quick to click the icon with a picture of you and Wade and the contact name angel baby.

Logan knew he had to put on his best Wade impression for this, so he inhales deeply before his fingers slowly tap across the screen.

me: Hey baby cakes! Wolvie's gone for the night, vanderpump at mine? Like old times?

angel baby: Hi! You sure? I don't mind doing it here!

me: I have wayyyy better drinks here. See you soon!

angel baby: fineee I'll be there after work

Logan lets out a breath he was holding for what felt like forever before he quickly slips Wade's phone back into the bathroom on the sink counter, closing the door slowly before rushing out of there to make himself seem as casual as possible.

Wade is out about twenty minutes later, a clear pep in his step. It makes Logan chuckle softly, bringing his beer to his lips as he nods towards his roommate. "Hot date tonight huh?" Logan hums out.

Wade hums softly as he nods, biting his bottom lip as he gives Logan an excited smile. "You bet I do. I am getting laid tonight buddy, I refuse to be the roommates that everyone thinks fuck...unless" his words trail off as he gives Logan a look, wiggling his eyebrows (or lack there of) as he opens his hands and gives him a little spin, shaking his ass at the end.

Logan chuckles as he puts a hand up. "Im good" He refuses before taking another sip of his beer, watching as Wade reaches down to grab a shot glass and a bottle of tequila, pouring some out for himself as he throws it back. "Liquid courage how I love you...its your loss man. I'll go give myself to a woman who actually knows how to fuck" He nods to himself before pouring out another shot, throwing it back and giving Logan a wave as he makes his way to the front door.

"See ya Monday Wolvie!" He chirps out as he leaves with a peace sign, his antics making Logan chuckle softly as his eyes drift over to the bottle off tequila.

He could use some of that with having to face you.

Logan sighs as he gets up, pouring himself a shot and throwing it back before he pours one more and throws that back before he tosses the bottle back into its reserved cupboard, moving to the couch to wait for your inevitable arrival.

knock knock knock!

It comes almost an hour later, the sound making Logans heart seize up, recognizing the familiar knock as if it were his own fucking heartbeat. He inhales deeply, stopping by a nearby mirror and checking himself out before he exhales deeply, moving to open the door.

"I'm a little late! I had to stop at the store to get the proper necessities-" Your words are cut off when you finally look up to see Logan instead of Wade, your face dropping as your mouth hangs open for a moment.

Logan want's to die just from that look in your eyes because you look fucking terrified, you even go as far as taking a step back as you give a nervous laugh.

"Oh...sorry Logan..is umm...is Wade around? He told me to come over..." You quickly explain, quickly fearing that the man will have more mean words for you for knocking on his door again.

It breaks Logan's heart because you don't have that twinkle in your eye anymore, nor do you have that excited smile on your pretty face when you see him and it makes him feel sick to his stomach.

"No he actually just left, you just missed him" He explains with a shrug and a soft apologetic smile.

You clear your throat awkwardly as you nod slowly. "Uhh...No worries! He probably had something to do....could you maybe tell him I was here when you see him? Sorry for bothering you" You mumble out before giving him a tightlipped smile and an awkward wave before you sigh, turning to leave at that.

Bothering him? God, he had really fucked up, hadn't he?

"Wait!" Logan calls out, stepping out into the hallway to catch you before you've made it into your own apartment.

You turn to face him, raising your eyebrows at the man. He groans softly as he stares at you for a moment before he looks back into the apartment, inhaling deeply as he remembered Wade's words

She's just a girl.

"I don't uh...know much about that Vanderpump thing but...I'm not busy, if you wanted someone to watch with tonight?" He sighs out sheepishly, giving you a small smile.

You stare at him for a moment, a soft frown on your lips as you clutch your snacks closer to your chest, using them as somewhat of a shield for your poor heart. You couldn't trust Logan, and you weren't sure if your heart could take anymore of the mean things that he said to you.

"You don't have to pity me or anything....I'm not a child, Logan" You explain to him, voice small and quiet as your frown deepens, your hand coming down to grip your door knob as you let out another sigh.

"Have a goodnight..." You try your best to end it, and it makes Logan groan softly as he quickly rushes towards you, putting his large hand over yours on the doorknob, stopping you from opening it further.

The sudden closeness makes your eyes widen, staring up at the man as his large hand squeezes over yours, the feeling making your heart flutter with excitement.

“I….please….let me makeup for being such a dick the last time we spoke…you deserve it” he nodded, eyes staring deeply into yours as he gives your hand one more squeeze.

You swallow nervously as you stare up at him, hating how warm you feel with him being so close, especially after he was so fucking mean to you all those weeks ago.

You sigh softly before your hand slowly falls from your doorknob, giving Logan a small nod.

“Yeah….okay” you agree with him before you look over to the opened door of his apartment, giving the man a small smile.

“Lead the way Wolvie” you tease him gently, the sound of your playful voice making Logan chuckle softly with you as he sighs in relief, leading you back to his apartment.

Logan can kiss his lucky stars over the fact that you actually agreed to coming back to the apartment with him. Wade was right when he said you’re the must understanding person on the planet.

He finds it hard to focus on the show when you’re this close to him, head resting against the back of the couch as you babysit a bag of sour patch, giggling softly whenever one of the insufferable Los Angeles characters complain about their boyfriend of their girlfriend cheating on them with someone else in their friend group.

It’s hard to focus when you’re this close to him, because he’s never been with you this way before.

You had been on Logan’s mind almost 24/7 since he first met you, and now that he had you with him alone, he didn’t know how to talk to you or how to interact with you. He felt nervous that he would open his mouth and say something stupid.

To sum it up, he was almost 200 years old yet a 20 something year old girl knew how to communicate her feelings better than he did.

You hum softly as you finally look up at him, pouting softly at how stiff the man looked in your presence. "You alright Logan? We can watch something else if you want" You hum out softly as you move to sit criss crossed on the couch, turning your body to face his.

Logan shakes his head as he reaches for the remote, knowing that he would not be able to focus with the sound of three Californian girls fighting over a man named Todd. "Let's talk for a bit....I wanna get to know you more" Logan sighed out softly as he turned to face you a bit more as well, watching as your face beams with excitement over his interest in you.

"Im an open book....what do you wanna know?" You open up as you take a sip of your beer, giving Logan a soft smile.

That was all it really took for you and Logan to actually hit it off, the mans anxiety melting away at the thought of talking to you once he realized how easy going you were. He was able to learn so much about you within the hours that you and him spoke, and before he knew it, it was almost 2 in the morning and you two had been talking since around 9.

"College sucks...Im literally either there or at the bar....its why I find nights with Wade so important" You sighed softly as you explained, your face falling as you pouted a bit.

Logan smiled fondly at you, the many easily seeing how you wore your feelings on your face, you were so expressive, so clear with how you were feeling and open with your emotions.

You truly were an open book.

Logan licked his lips as he brought his beer to his lips, taking a sip as he watched you carefully. Something burned inside of him. something that desperately wanted to grill you about what it was he heard that night through the wall, who it was you were with, if you were still seeing him or not.

"Yeah? Any time for dating then?" He hums out, pink tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his lips as he settles back into the couch. One of his legs were trapped along the couch, caging you in as the other rested on the floor, knee bent as his hand rested on it, legs spread right in front of you.

His question catches you off guard, eyes widening a bit as you try to register if he's asked the question that you think he asked, and if he is, does he mean it in a friendly way?

He has to, right? A man doesn't tell you that he doesn't want you just to grill you about your love life.

You inhale deeply as you try to find the right words to say, wondering how deep you should get into the current state of your love life.

You give Logan a shrug as you take a sip of your beer. "I try....my love life is in shambles though....I truly can't remember the last time I had a decent date" You frown, your words honest as you scrunch your nose in disgust as you think back to the horrible men you've dated.

Logan raises his eyebrows in disbelief at your words before he nods slowly, taking a sip of his drink before he sighs. "Mm...the things I heard through the walls would beg to differ Princess" Logan shoots back without a second thought.

Your eyes widen as you think back to a few nights ago, throwing your head back as you find yourself cringing in embarrassment over the fact that Logan had fucking heard you.

"You heard that? Logan oh my god that is....that is so disgusting on my end I am so sorry, I promise it won't happen again" You ramble, making a mental note to never fuck in your bedroom again as long as Logan was living across from you.

You were going to be having shower sex only.

Logan chuckles softly as he shakes his head, holding his hands up in defense before he speaks. "Oh no need, you sounded like you were having quite the time....don't stop on my account" He smirks at you.

Knowing that you had not the slightest inkling that he was stroking his cock to the very sound of you getting fucked.

You groan softly as you take a healthy swig of your drink, Logan watching closely before he hums out once more.

"New boyfriend?" he questions again, eyes growing darker as he uses the conversation as a gateway into more important things.

You scoff softly as you shake your head. "God no....he's just a guy from my psych class....we met at a party and he took me home and...im sure I can spare you the gory details" You giggle softly before you sigh, moving to rest your head against the back of the couch as you watch the man across from you.

Logan nods slowly, bottom lip tugged beneath his teeth as he listens to you before he speaks.

"Just a guy hum....interesting" Logan nods slowly as he tosses back the rest of his beer before he sets the empty bottle down on the coffee table in front of the both of you, strong hands resting along his denim clad thighs, eyes never leaving yours.

"Forgot about me already baby?" he drawls out, voice low and gruff, dripping with lust as he watches you closely for your reaction.

His tone and words make you perk up, breath hitching in your throat as you face the man completely. His words shoot straight down to your core, making you swallow back a whine as you stare at him with a dumfounded expression.

"I....Logan..." You sigh out softly, your hands resting on your knees and balling into fists as you physically try to stop yourself from doing something you knew you couldn't do.

Logan chuckles softly as he shrugs. "It's true....you forgot all about me princess....it's okay though, I deserve it don't I?" he questions, watching as you silently watch him from across the couch.

When you don't answer, he's quick to pull it out of you. "Answer me baby" His demand makes you flinch softly and you quickly nod before you respond.

"Yeah...you did deserve it..." You agree with him.

Logan nods with you, a soft hum leaving his lips as he watches you. "I did...was so mean to you and you were just being the sweetest thing to me..." He hums softly, watching as you slowly grow softer for him with every word he spoke.

"It's alright baby....did he at least make you cum? I heard you, you know....when you said you were there? sounded so pretty...." He groans softly, a prominent tent forming in his jeans at the mere thought of your moans.

He's shocked when he hears a tiny one leave your lips, your eyes shooting down to his growing cock. It makes him smirk softly, pride filling his chest as he moves his hand down to palm himself before he nods at you.

"Eyes up here baby...thats it..." He nods slowly when he finally has his eyes back on yours.

"Now...answer my question" He urges you once more, his voice deliciously low and gravely, the sound making you squirm in your spot on the couch.

You inhale deeply before you shake your head. "I faked it..." You mumble under your breath, fighting the embarrassment that threatened to creep up your spine.

Logan felt like he had died and gone to heaven.

Because not only were you here with him, but that idiot that got the chance to be with you couldn't even make you cum properly...which only left more room for him to come in and do the job properly.

"You poor thing....I was afraid of that..." He groaned softly before he pat his hand along his lap, calling you over to him.

"C'mere peach...let daddy show you how a real man is supposed to make you feel..." He hummed out softly.

It was all you needed to come crawling over to him like a bitch in heat.

You moaned softly once you were settled down in his lap, either one of your plush thighs straddling his lap, arms wrapping around his neck as you stared down at him with needy eyes, bottom lip tugged between your teeth.

Logan groaned softly, strong hands coming down to grip your waist, tugging you closer as he leaned in, pressing his nose against your collar bone and growling at how fucking good you smelled.

"Atta girl....go on then baby, give daddy a kiss..." He ordered once more.

You wasted no time in pressing your lips to his, moaning softly into his mouth as you tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck.

You're so...fucking sweet, and sugary, and the dulcet sounds of your moans drives Logan absolutely insane, the older man gripping your waist tightly as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, tainting you for anyone who ever dares to kiss you after he has.

Logan groans into the kiss when he feels you rocking your hips back and forth, grinding your pussy against his bulge.

"Needy huh? Want daddy to help you baby? Yeah?" He groans out, your forehead resting against his as you nod, breathing heavily as you continue grinding down onto his bulge.

Logan chuckles softly as he nods, his hand going around your middle before he flips you around, tugging you down so that your back is pressed against his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder as he hums softly.

His hands trail down your body slowly, the little top you have on has a tie at the front, one that if Logan so much as flicks, will come undone. It makes him smirk softly as he takes one of the strings between his thumb and pointer finger, tugging at it slowly until your boobs bounce free, making him hiss softly.

"Fuck, look at that....such a pretty girl...." His hands look so rough along your soft skin, calloused fingers running along either one of your tits, cupping and massaging them delicately before he brings your nipples into his finger, twisting them slightly before he goes back to cupping them all over again.

You're so sensitive, so responsive to his touch. Your hand goes up to cup your hand over his thats working on your boobs, your hips bucking up into nothing as your other hand goes up and around Logan to hold onto his head.

"Logan...please..." You moan softly, your words making Logan smirk softly as he nods, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"Im here baby....just enjoying all of you first" He explains before his hands go down your body.

Soon enough, he's unbuttoning your denim jeans, one of his hands coming up to raise your hips as he tugs them off your legs with your panties in one swift move before tossing them somewhere else in the living room.

Logan lets out a low gasp when his neck cranes down against your shoulder to look down at the mess between your legs, his strong hands creeping down to where you need him the most, your own hands pressing against his thigh.

"Fuck princess....so wet already....all this for me?" He hums out softly.

Either of his hands go down between your legs, pressing right against either one of your lips as he massages you softly, the feeling making your eyes roll back as your head falls against Logan's shoulder.

He smirks softly, his head coming down to attach his lips to your neck as one of his hands comes up to hold your hips down, pressing you flush against his body whilst the other starts rubbing your clit slowly.

"Such a good girl...letting daddy apologize for being so mean...thats it baby...fuck...thats it...." He urges you on further as his skilled fingers slowly works on your clit, your moans like music to his ears as he gives you exactly what you needed.

"Daddy...im....fuck....don't stop" You whine softly, gripping his wrist as he continues playing with your pussy, the feeling making your eyes roll. You're damn near drooling and all the man is doing is rubbing your clit for you.

It makes Logan chuckle softly, his fingers speeding up as his lips unlatch from your neck so he's able to look down at you, not wanting to miss the fucked out state of bliss written all over your face that's coming to you all because of him.

"Come on baby....cum all over your daddy's fingers, give it to me princess" He growls, picking up the pace as he begins grinding his hard on into your ass from behind, matching the way your hips roll to chase the rhythm of his fingers.

You're squirming so much at this point, a moaning mess as Logan holds you down by your hip, forcing you to take what he gives you, not giving you the chance to run away from the pleasure he so desperately wants to give to you.

"Oh my god! Im gonna fu-ahhh!" You moan loudly, back arching off of Logans chest as you cum hard all over his fingers.

Logan moans with you, watching in awe as you become a puddle of nothing but moans and gasps as you come down from your high, his fingers working slowly on your swollen pussy as your arousal drools out onto his fingers, forcing them to slip around and lose their place as he works on you.

"That's a good girl...thats daddy's good fucking girl....thats it....im right here baby...daddys gotchu" He praises you, soft whines and moans leaving your lips as his rough hands move from your pussy to instead run along your body, holding you, massaging you, making it known that he was indeed there with you.

It takes a few minutes for you to catch your breath properly, when you do, you finally feel Logans very large bulge pressing into your ass.

He's too busy pressing kisses along your throat and jaw, working his way up to your cheek and the corner of your lips to make sure you were there with him and comfortable.

"Logan..." You mumble softly before you roll your hips down against his cock, your eyes locking with his as you stare up at him with a needy glint in yours.

Logan raises his eyebrows at your actions, holding onto your hips as he guides you to grind down onto his lap.

"You want daddy's cock baby? Is that it?" He questions, his words alone making you moan softly as you nod, your hand coming up and tugging his head down to press against your lips.

"Please fuck me daddy..." You moan against him, pushing your tongue into his mouth as you swallow his groans.

He nods against you, silently reaching between the two of you to undo the button to his jeans and pulling his cock out, tongue playing with yours as he sits you both up a bit before he grabs both of your thighs, lifting you up and making you gasp softly.

"Don't worry princess...Daddy's got you..." he assures you before he slowly sinks you down onto his cock.

Both of you moan softly in unison, his length filling you up completely, making your eye roll back as as he settles you down onto his lap.

"Logan...L-Lo...you're so big...fuck" You gasp out, struggling to even form words properly as Logan's arms wraps around your waist, holding you close against his chest as he slowly starts to fuck up into you.

"You can take it baby...fuck...such a tight little pussy...so fuckin' good for me...takin' me so well angel" Logan growled against you, lips pressed against your back as he found a steady rhythm in fucking you.

You're a moaning mess. Logan is so big, and he fills you up so well, better than anyone ever has, and it makes you feel like you'll fucking cry because of how good it feels.

Logan growls every time your pussy tightens around him, wrapping him up and keeping him so warm. He’s forgotten how fucking good it feels to be this close to someone, hearing such pretty moans….

Logan thinks he could get used to this….

Logan thinks he could get used to you.

“Come on baby….give it to me…cum all over my fuckin cock” He urges you, wanting nothing more than to feel your pretty pussy spasm on his length.

You gasp softly, struggling to hold your head up as he defiles you from down below, making a mess of your pussy as he pounds into you like a wild fucking animal, the feeling foreign to anything you’ve ever experienced for. He’s like a machine, and his skilled cock as your head spinning.

“Daddy…daddy I…I can’t…you’re gonna make me cum-“ your words are cut off by just that, a loud shriek ripping through your lungs as you cum hard all over Logan’s cock just like he asked of you.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl, fuck yeah…you want Daddy to cum inside you baby? Yeah? Want Daddy to fill up this pretty pussy?” He growls out, his own eyes fluttering shut at the mere thought of cumming inside your pussy, filling you up and making him as your own.

You’re nodding like an idiot, all dumb and cock drunk as the pleasure fades and the overstimulation takes place, making your mind fuzzy and the world around you dull, the only thing you’re able to focus on being Logan.

“Please…want you to cum inside Daddy….wanna be yours” you moan out softly, your eyes rolling back as you allow Logan to continue fucking up into you mercilessly, turning your brain into mush with every thrust.

“All mine baby…all Daddy’s…fuck…that’s it baby…let daddy fill up this little pussy….fuckfuckfuck” Logan growls out, his moans strangled as he pulls you down roughly onto his lap, his cock twitching with every spurt of cum, painting your insides with his seed as his large hands press your sweaty body flush against his.

You both sit there like that for quite a while, his hands massaging your skin, thumbs rubbing small circles into your abdomen as you both try to catch your breath, the come down sucking all of the energy out of both of you while you enjoy the warmth of being connected to one another.

After a moment passes, you’re finally the one to break the silence, a gentle smirk on your face as you turn around a bit to face Logan.

“So….I guess it’s safe to say I am your type of girl after all?” You tease the man as you recall the words he’d said to you all those weeks ago.

It makes Logan groan softly as he cringes at himself, finally giving in and resting his chin against your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as he nods.

“Yeah….I guess you are princess…”

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello again everyone! It's time for another Merlin au! This time featuring Uther's propaganda and a healthy dose of misunderstandings and pain! :D

This au was inspired by an idea that I pitched in a reblog of one of @tamaha's amazing posts! (Also, shoutout to my awesome mutual @achillesuwu, since you asked to be tagged when I wrote this! :) ) You can find that original reblog here!

EDIT: You can find part two of this au here!

In canon, we know that Uther had children drowned for using magic, and that most of those children were likely warlocks who were born with their magic. However, we also know that most people in Camelot believe that magic is a choice and that it's impossible for someone to be born with it, so how did Uther justify to his people both the existence of child warlocks and the killing of children for something that they had no control over?

Well, Uther utilized his propaganda to justify killing young warlocks. He found some ancient text that hypothesized that warlocks got their powers from being reborn demons, and he used those very shoddy sources to justify his actions.

He spun stories about how warlocks looked human, but weren't human at all. He told the people that while those warlock children might have looked like regular humans, they would grow into powerful demons that would hunt down regular humans and eat their souls to gain more power.

Uther's propaganda campaign was successful, and soon, warlocks were some of the most feared magical creatures in Camelot. The people were terrified at the thought of a beast that could consume souls and blend in among them, unable to detected until it was too late.

Warlocks were a regular element of the nightmares of all of the children in Camelot, who would jump at every shadow and wonder if it was a warlock, there to devour them. Arthur was among those children, lying awake late at night, trembling with fear at the thought of any person he passed on the street being a warlock who would eat his very soul, denying him any afterlife and instead turning his soul into more magical power for the warlock.

And fast forward to some point after Arthur's become king, Merlin has a pretty painless magic reveal. Arthur and the knights were out hunting, they all get ambushed by bandits, Arthur takes a bad hit that would probably be fatal, but Merlin rushes to his side and, without hesitation, uses magic to heal Arthur's wound.

Arthur was, of course, very upset to learn that his manservant and best friend has magic, and they have a big argument over it, but no one physically attacks anyone (despite Gwaine's threats to kill Arthur and the rest of the knights and run away with Merlin).

So, everyone endures a rather tense and awkward ride back to Camelot, where Merlin is the recipient of many irate glares from Arthur and reassuring looks from the knights. When they reach Camelot, Arthur bans Merlin from his presence until he calls for Merlin again. He says that he can't stand the sight of Merlin at the moment, but Merlin will owe him a full explanation later. Merlin tearfully agrees and holes himself up in Gaius's chambers for a few days, while Arthur makes an ass of himself with his foul mood, snapping at everyone in the castle.

The knights try to point out to Arthur that while, yes, Merlin had magic and had lied to Arthur, he had only revealed it to save Arthur's life. Most of the knights used that point as a tool to comfort Arthur and ease his temper, but Gwaine used that fact to rub it in Arthur's face how terrible of a person Arthur was being towards the man who had just saved his life.

Finally, after the whole castle had to suffer through five days of Arthur's prattish and unpleasant behavior, Arthur summoned Merlin to his chambers, feeling calm enough again to actually hear whatever nonsensical reasons Merlin would give for turning to magic.

You see, what Arthur, the knights, and pretty much everyone in the castle had assumed was that Merlin had probably just picked up on some small useful enchantments and healing spells for Gaius's old study of that material. Arthur was angry at Merlin for turning to magic, but he could understand where Merlin was coming from.

Everyone knew that Merlin cared about his friends to the point of idiocy, so it made logical sense that Merlin, since he had the resources available to him, would resort to learning healing magic in case of an emergency. Arthur understood that aspect of Merlin more than anyone else.

Knowing that Merlin's magic was probably just the result of him being a loving and caring idiot did help ease the blow for Arthur, and truthfully Arthur didn't plan on punishing Merlin at all. To Arthur, hopefully confining Merlin to his chambers for a few days would discourage any future stupidity along these lines, and they could put this entire situation behind them.

So, when Arthur summoned a distressingly pale Merlin to his chambers and demanded an explanation, he expected to receive some stuttered response about learning a few spells from some of Gaius's spare books and to extract a promise out of Merlin that he'd never turn to magic again, and then everything would be fine.

However, when a wrought looking Merlin opened his mouth to explain, Arthur's heart plummeted to the floor. At the very first words of Merlin's explanation, "I was born with it," Arthur's chest went cold, and he took a few staggering steps backwards until his back hit the cold wall behind him, his eyes seeking out his blade.

Merlin was born with magic. That made Merlin a... a...

"Warlock," Arthur whispered, his eyes teary and terrified all at once.

Merlin stopped his explanation and tilted his head at Arthur, a small grin pulling on his lips. Arthur flinched back slightly at the sight of it, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the all-encompassing terror, dread, and sorrow that swirled around his mind.

"Ah, so you do know the correct word for it then! Yes, I am technically a warlock, but the distinction doesn't really matter that much anyways."

Merlin made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if his words hadn't just completely shattered Arthur's heart. Arthur couldn't even listen to the rest of Merlin's explanation through the rush of his heartbeat and breathing in his ears.

The terror gripping his heart shouted at him to fight or flee, don't just stand there waiting for him to decide that he's feeling peckish for souls!

Arthur suddenly registered the pallor of Merlin's skin and the hollowness of his cheeks and came to the awful conclusion that he doesn't have much time, Merlin's already hungry and Merlin was stepping closer there was no time to escape nonono!

Arthur closed his eyes, unable to look at what must have been Merlin unfurling whatever demonic jaws he kept hidden and preparing to eat Arthur's soul...

But the sensation of his soul being devoured, whatever that was supposed to feel like, never came. Instead, he just felt a hand on his forehead, and after a few seconds another one cupped the side of his face.

Arthur hesitantly opened his eyes, almost not wanting to look upon Merlin's happy, friendly face that had always brought nothing but comfort. He didn't want those caring eyes to be that last thing he saw before he died at Merlin's hand!

Slowly, Arthur steeled himself and blinked the tears from his eyes, willing to at least face his death like a true warrior, looking at it head-on.

But, as his vision cleared from the tears, Merlin didn't look like his death, or like any sort of soul-eating monster. He just looked like Merlin, and by god wasn't that the worst part of it?

Merlin slowly smiled at him as his tears dried, coaxing him away from the wall and towards his armchair by the fireplace. Merlin gently guided him over to chair and helped him into his seat, holding Arthur's hand the entire time.

Arthur, once he was sitting, looked over at Merlin, still holding onto his hand and whispering comforting words to him, and Arthur felt like a small, scared child again, freshly awoken from a nightmare and jumping at every shadow.

It took what must have been hours for Arthur to catch his breath, stop his tears, and cease his body's terrified trembling, and Merlin sat next to him the entire time, drying Arthur's tears and comforting him.

Eventually, Arthur looked Merlin in the eyes again, and he could find nothing in them but love and care.

Whatever Merlin was, however hungry he must have been after going five days without being able to hunt for souls to devour, he apparently didn't see Arthur as a target.

Arthur took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact with Merlin. Alright, Merlin might be a soul-eating demon straight out of Camelot's worst nightmares, but he saw Arthur as a friend, not a meal. Arthur... Arthur could work with that.

He just... he needed more information before doing anything else. Merlin was still looking at him with love and concern, and with each passing moment, Arthur became more and more convinced that Merlin was still Merlin, warlock or not. And damn it all, that still counted for something. It had to count for something.

Now that his fear was marginally under control, questions swirled around Arthur's head. How did Merlin even eat souls before this? How often did he need to eat? Did he need to also eat food, or did he sustain himself and his powers on souls alone?

Before he could ask Merlin any of the pressing questions that were on his mind, Merlin had already helped Arthur out of his chair and towards his bed, readying a limp Arthur for bed whilst the king was drowning in his own thoughts.

Before Arthur even knew it, Merlin was pulling blankets over him and snuffing out the candles in his room. Merlin promised to visit Arthur again in the morning to tell him more, and Arthur barely registered his words over the storm of his own thoughts.

When morning came, Arthur couldn't even tell if he had gotten any sleep throughout the night or not, but he woke up exhausted either way. Only a few minutes after the sun had risen, Merlin burst into the room, still looking paler than usual and helping himself to one of the sausages that was supposed to be a part of Arthur's breakfast.

Just the sight of Merlin eating anything made Arthur feel slightly queasy, imaging some terrified soul being devoured at Merlin's hands. Arthur took a deep, steadying breath before getting out of bed, allowing Merlin to dress him as he normally did.

Merlin, much to Arthur's relief, was still acting like nothing had changed, like he was still the same harmless Merlin that Arthur knew him as before yesterday.

If that was how Merlin wanted to act, then Arthur was fine with it. Truthfully, even with all of the questions that Arthur had surrounding Merlin's nature, he found that he didn't really want answers to any of them. Answers would make this new reality, one where Merlin was never harmless at all and where there was a demon hiding under his best friend's skin, real for Arthur. If Arthur didn't have any answers, then he could just... pretend that everything was still fine, like nothing was wrong.

To keep Merlin by his side, he would gladly accept ignorance and pretend like nothing had changed.

However, there was still one issue that Arthur needed an answer to, to confirm that Merlin was still the man who Arthur always thought him to be.

As Merlin was cleaning up Arthur's breakfast plate, Arthur cleared his throat, getting Merlin's attention. Merlin quickly turned around to meet Arthur's gaze, but Arthur didn't feel scared meeting his eyes this time.

"Merlin, I'm willing to let everything that was revealed yesterday be forgiven, and everything can go back to normal."

Merlin gave Arthur a beaming smile at his words, and Arthur continued with a solemn heart.

"However, there is one thing I need to know. You've never..."

Somehow, the words eaten the soul of an innocent person were so vile that they refused to pass Arthur's lips, so he chooses an alternative.

"... hurt anyone who didn't deserve it, right? And you never will in the future? If we are to have any sort of trust between us, you must answer me honestly"

Arthur figured that, if Merlin was indeed forced to eat souls to survive, Merlin was probably feeding on bandits or enemy soldiers that Arthur and the knights would've killed anyways. It was the only explanation, as innocent people didn't mysteriously turn up dead regularly enough in Camelot to indicate that Merlin was feeding on them, and Arthur knew, deep down, that no matter what he was, Merlin would never do such a thing.

Merlin froze at Arthur's words, his smile falling. He lowered his gaze briefly, before meeting Arthur's eyes once more, determination shining brightly in his eyes.

"Arthur, I swear to you, anyone whom I've hurt with my powers were enemies of Camelot. Whatever I've done, I did it to protect you and your subjects."

Arthur nodded, satisfied and relieved by Merlin's answer. Nothing had to change then, Merlin was still his friend and manservant, albeit with powerful magic and an appetite for the souls of his enemies. Arthur could... tolerate that.

As the weeks went on, Arthur found himself thinking about this new side to Merlin less and less. Merlin was still acting exactly as himself, so there was no reason for Arthur to worry, let alone dwell on any thoughts of warlocks.

(And if he had a familiar nightmare from his childhood featuring a warlock, then that was Arthur's business and Arthur's business alone.)

Everything was fine, and months passed without any incidents. That was, however, until Arthur noticed Merlin becoming paler, his cheeks hollowing out again, and his eyes sporting heavy bags. As he took in the changes in Merlin over the past few days, he came to the sickening conclusion: Merlin was getting hungry again, and would need a soul to eat soon.

But Camelot was at peace, there were noticeably less bandits roaming the streets in the past year, and no assassins had come to the castle in the past months. Arthur could see that Merlin's usual... hunting grounds... had been drying up, and he needed to find a solution immediately. Arthur shivered at the thought of what devastation Merlin would unintentionally bring down upon all of them if his hunger ever got out of control.

After several hours of brainstorming on Arthur's part, he finally had an idea. It sickened him to have to consider, but he would do what he had to for the sake of Camelot.

Arthur called for Merlin to follow him as he made his way into the dungeons, where only one prisoner was currently being held. The prisoner was a minor noble who had killed several of his own servants and then used his status as a member of the nobility to cover up his involvement in the murders.

However, the nobleman was sloppy, and there was evidence left behind that proved his guilt without a doubt. He was set to be hanged for his crimes in two days time, as per Arthur's own judgement at the noble's trial, but... if he was going to be executed anyways... perhaps his death may be of use.

(What Arthur didn't know was that the real reason why Merlin looked so exhausted was because Merlin had spent every night for the past week searching for and compiling evidence that the nobleman was behind the murders, as the bastard would've gotten away with it otherwise.)

To Arthur, the criminal's death could be used to ensure that Camelot's only source of magical protection (and Arthur's best and dearest friend) didn't starve to death or go into a hunger-induced rampage, whichever came first.

Slowly, Arthur made his way to the nobleman's cell with Merlin trailing after him, where the criminal was bound to a chair on Arthur's orders. Arthur solemnly opened the door to the cell, gesturing for Merlin to follow him inside.

As soon as Arthur set foot in the cell, the nobleman started begging him for mercy, pleading with him to lower his sentence, not knowing what punishment Arthur truly had in mind for him. Ignoring the soon-to-be dead man, Arthur turned towards Merlin, who was startled by Arthur's intense stare.

"Arthur? What's going on?"

"Merlin," Arthur choked out, his voice rough with guilt, sorrow, and fear alike. Merlin rushed to Arthur's side at the sound, trying to urge him out of the cell, away from whatever issue was causing Arthur such pain.

Standing firm, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Merlin, I need you to... to do something for me."

Concern marred Merlin features as he reached out to Arthur.

"Of course, I would do anything for you Arthur."

Arthur swallowed roughly, trying to force his next words out of his throat. He'd ordered executions before, hell, he'd even ordered this man's execution before, but this was much, much harder than any of the other orders he'd given.

"Merlin, I need you to... take care of this man, as you normally do for enemies of Camelot."

Merlin reeled back with shock, looking somewhere between confused and hurt.

"Arthur, you can't possibly mean for me to..."

"I'm sorry, but yes Merlin, it needs to be done."

Merlin stared at Arthur for a few more moments, before slowly nodding his head and turning towards the bound criminal.

As Merlin stepped closer to the doomed noble, Arthur closed his eyes and turned his head away. Perhaps it was cowardice, but if there were ever a time for Arthur to show such cowardly behavior, it was here. He didn't want to see this part of Merlin.

He did, however, hear everything. There was a scream from the criminal, which was sickeningly cut off by a loud wet crunch that echoes off of the cell's walls, and then there was no sound in the cell except a very loud silence.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes to the sight of Merlin standing in front of a corpse and tried to believe that everything was still normal.

And that's a wrap on this au! Man, that got darker than I expected it to be.

Be sure to let me know if you'd like a continuation of this au!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Alfie noticing that guys who are way younger than him (like Michael? John?) having a thing for reader, who is close to age to these young gentlemen but has only eyes for ol' man Alfie? Thoughts?

Near Deadly Sin

Alfie Solomons x F!Reader; fluff

AN: IM BAAAAACCCCKKK hello my loves it’s taking me forever to write again but I’m glad to be back. I miss you all and hope you all are doing well!!! MUAH - Mo

No. No this acidic flame burning between his ribs is not jealousy.

Not at all.

The embers stoked in his chest. The flames licking up his neck and around his ears. These are normal… manly… sensible reactions.

Alfie had been invited for ‘drinks’ with the Shelbys. He had refused adamantly, and was only coerced upon your promise to accompany him and to never. leave. his. sight. As if you would ever be far from him or out of his thunderous gaze. But as he is sitting across from Thomas and Arthur and Polly, he is regretting ever bringing you near this nonsense. This den of wolves and snakes. The murmurs of Thomas faded like the crackle of a radio as he focused in on John Shelby’s lustful gaze over you. With every sweep of his young and unbridled eyes and suck of his teeth, Alfie became more and more enraged. Not that you noticed. You didn’t notice John’s roving eyes or the quickening pulse of your husband next to you. You were content sipping the tea Polly served, making quiet conversation with Ada in the corner, holding a babbling Karl.

Alfie knew there was supposed to be a deal or something tonight. Or maybe an update on a job. Or something. It didn’t matter. Fuck the business. Fuck the Shelbys. Fuck John Shelby. Fuck it all. Standing quickly, pushing through the screaming pain of his back, Alfie grunts, “Darling get your coat. We’re done here.”

Your head spun, “Meyn Likht?”

“Up. Coat. Now. Cyril needs us.”

You press your lips in a firm line. Holding back your tongue from lashing at him for his impromptu exit. You knew what he actually meant. Thinking of Cyril was his code for indicating murderous intent that needed to be snuffed out immediately. You watch Alfie as you slip on your coat, going to Thomas to whisper something just out of your reach. Had you heard him, you would have heard the volcanic timber of his voice promise, “You control that little brother of yours Tommy yeah? It’s against holy law to look at another man’s wife like he been doing. Will have to go back to Mosaic law if he don’t shape up.”

With heavy stomps he approaches John, who is trying yet failing to keep a stone expression. “You keep them eyes to yourself little boy. Or someone may just take ‘em from you.”

“Darling? Cyril needs to be let out and will not wait for you!”

With a firm pat on the cheek Alfie turned away, gripping your waist firmly, hand as hot as a brand on the skin under your dress.

-

It’s late now, Alfie is fuming under the crisp sheets and thick quilts layered living on the soft bed. He’s pretending to read. Putting on his glasses and taking them back off again to stare at the ceiling. You emerge from the bathroom, face flush from the hot water, and hair pulled away from your bare shoulders. Arms crossed across your chest, you sit on Alfie’s side of the bed, “You want to talk about it like a grown up now?”

He huffs and shifts lower into the bed, as if to hide from you. With a shrug you walk back to your side, shuffling your sock feet across. You crawl back in bed, back to Alfie to let him fume. It was better than fighting with him to get him to share his feelings.

“He was looking at you.”

“Well Karl is a baby darling.”

“Not Karl! John fucking Shelby! Little bastard was undressing you with his eyes! And you said nothing!”

Ah… there it was.

You let yourself sit up to look at your husband’s face. Folded up into himself, glasses precariously balanced on his nose, cheeks ruddy from rage. Jealousy was his greatest sin and vice. Bigger than rage. Bigger than his love of rum. He was an only child and as such he grew into a man who did not like to share. Not even your image. You curled up next to him, like a cat preening for attention. “Meyn Likht… I didn’t even see him. You shouldn’t be jealous of a figure of vapor.”

“What you don’t notice the… the young men just staring at you? Gapped mouths like dead fish?”

“Those children?” You hum, gently kissing his scruffy jaw and temple.

“Those… men closer in age… to you.”

With that you crawl into his lap, looping your arms around his broad shoulders. “Darling… what could I do with those men? I’d break them.”

“Break them?” He chuckles, gripping you tighter.

“They’re too soft. Too pretty. No. I like my men… rougher… more sturdy… someone who can stand strong and not worry about their pretty face getting dirty. I like my old man.”

“Do you now?”

“Love him even. Deliriously in love with him. Couldn’t live without him.”

Before you could take another breath, he was on you, kissing all over your face, tickling you with his rough beard and mustache. “Good Lord woman you make me feel 20 again.”

[pendragonsclotpole]

building on my idea that merlin takes on the name ambrose pendragon after arthur’s death, like imagine it’s 50 years later.

everyone from camelot is dead. the anglo-saxons have won, historical conquests of britain are continuing on as they did and here remains merlin, previously known as emrys, neither name really a surname and the latter always more of a title, but both representative of a world that no longer exists, a kingdom that has fallen apart, a servant with no master, a half without that which makes it whole.

so maybe merlin leaves. he explores. first he travels the isle and perhaps when people ask him who he is he defaults to an ancient practice. people, you see, have often been known by what they do or who they serve or where they come from. for a while, for the decades that pass wherein people remember the rule of the pendragons and the great kingdom of camelot and the failed prophecies of albion, he is not Merlin of Ealdor but Merlin of Camelot.

but people die. memories fade. time passes. merlin remains. and after a while, he cannot call himself Merlin of Camelot. not only do people forget his old kingdom, they forget his name, they bring along new languages and then around 300 years after arthur’s death, a collection of stories begin to be written, about magic, about merlin, about—

Arthur.

people you see, have often been defined by what they do or who they serve or where they come from. when the stories of arthur begin to be told anew, and remain with merlin through the tide of centuries, merlin resolves to forge a new name. he devises first the name in the style of a servant or of some of the common folk.

Merlin of Pendragon.

merlin toys with that idea, wears it for a few decades but something in those words rings false, sounds wrong, and unsettles his blood, as if he lays claim to a dynasty that shall never be his and will never rise again. when he uses it, people laugh and think him an uneducated fool playing at legend. it feels trite and awkward and wrong.

Merlin Pendragon sounds better, more forgivable if not entirely presentable. It makes merlin sound like he is a Pendragon, but only one sorcerer has ever laid claim to the Pendragon name and her name had not been merlin. (it makes merlin a Pendragon, and not even when Arthur lived had merlin considered such a fate a possibility, that Arthur could ever consider—)

merlin continues thinking, and by the time he settles on a replacement it is out of obligation and urgency. he cannot be nameless while he works as a healer and travels the world and serves other people as best as he can. he cannot be merlin Pendragon if the only man who could have conferred that name to him is dead.

instead he becomes Emrys Pendragon, and for a while, that name becomes a second skin. but like the serpent he has always been, merlin eventually sheds that skin. centuries have passed and those who once bore the name emrys, the last descendants of the druids and the people of Camelot, now only recognize that name in legend. the name once more marks him as stupid fool in love with the romantic notion of chivalry. besides, the languages have shifted and a name that once rolled off the tongue has become clotted and stuck in the mouths of people. no one can say it as it had once been said nor as it once belonged by arthur’s side, if only in secret.

merlin again returns to the drawing board, and luckily by that time he is aware of the translations of his many names. on a visit to rome, the grand imperial capital Arthur once dreamt of seeing as a young man, merlin thinks of a perfect substitute. His final name.

Ambrose.

Ambrose Pendragon.

it is emrys, but not quite.

it is merlin as he is forced to live without Arthur.

it is what Arthur could have been if he had lived at merlin’s side.

it is, written shorter, A. Pendragon.

it is a simple name. it is a stupid name. it is a name that breaks his heart and reminds him of his failings and keeps the faith alive within him.

years after adopting the name, merlin wakes up and walks to his desk and sees the name written on the outside of an envelope and he imagines it’s a letter from arthur.

a thousand years later, he sees it written on the sides of coffee cups and envelopes, monogrammed on his coats and cufflinks, inked on his essays, emblazoned on the side of his shop, and merlin imagines that when Arthur returns, he will return to a world already familiar with an A. Pendragon.

It shall be a welcoming world, as if across all these centuries, by some miracle, Arthur Pendragon had lived all along.

[wordsinhaled]

remember in the SECOND EPISODE of merlin when gaius was all, "merlin, i’m sorry but your word counts for nothing because you’re a servant and no one will care what you have to say"

and then merlin came to arthur and arthur was all SWEAR TO ME THAT WHAT YOU SAY IS TRUE and THEN I BELIEVE YOU and then he went to his father and assembled the whole court so that merlin's concerns would be heard, because he shared them

remember when even after not being able to substantiate the claim and firing merlin he still believed that what merlin said was the truth. remember when even after being sacked and sent away merlin came back to warn arthur

remember when arthur was all “my father will never apologize to me for being wrong” and then turned right around and APOLOGIZED TO MERLIN (his manservant!) and ADMITTED HE WAS WRONG. remember when uther was all, you care about some manservant's opinion??? and arthur was all, well yes, obviously, because merlin's a fucking person. remember when arthur saw merlin as a person when all his life merlin has felt different and other and confused about who he is and what he is

and also, again, all of this was in the SECOND EPISODE

remember when in the second episode arthur already showed he'd be a better ruler for albion than uther ever was, even back then when arthur was still so young at heart and had so much learning and growing still to do

remember when this all foreshadowed how he would take (and even ask for) merlin's perspective and advice later, during crucial moments for the kingdom

okay. and also since i'm here

THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT YOU, MERLIN in the first episode (the first episode!!!)

and

the way merlin is all "you have the wrong person" this and "arthur's an idiot" that but as soon as he hears confirmation that arthur is his destiny he's THROWING himself in harm's way (literally) for arthur, he's cheering for arthur in tournaments, he's worrying about him

arthur is the one who started a second confrontation at the marketplace - not merlin. because he was curious about him. because he wanted him in his life and didn't even understand why yet

because he can feel it; they can both feel it

THEY'RE TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN!!!! soulmates!!!!!!

okay, and listen. listen

thinking about arthur's journey from anger to acceptance to gratitude once he learns about merlin's magic, and how on some level you'd think that would change their dynamic forever because arthur would feel he could never make it up to merlin for all the ways he'd saved and supported arthur and the kingdom. and maybe arthur might feel that way for a while. but the fact of the matter is that arthur has always treated merlin as more than his manservant. from day one. FROM DAY ONE

merlin would have served arthur for the rest of his life!!! he would have been his court sorcerer!!! okay! he was ready for that! he was ready to see arthur white-haired and wise in his old age and he would have been at his side then still helping him dress even though he doesn't need to anymore, arthur's got other servants for that, and merlin's got other duties now, and arthur would say, shouldn't you be in your tower, dollophead? even while shrugging into the jacket merlin holds out for him, and merlin would respond i should, my lord even while fastening the clasps of arthur's cloak and it would be everything and nothing like old times

god, do you ever just think about THEM and have a whole Situation because... THEY

[adventuringblind]

Defensive Maneuvers

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!reader

Genre: fluffy with a pinch of angst

Request: yes! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Requests are open for Max, Charles, Oscar, and lando. Don't hesitate to send me ideas!

Summary: The normally soft-spoken leclerc sister becomes the out spoken girl her family knows. What triggers this change? Max Verstappen and his ridiculous father.

Warnings: Jos being Jos, mentions of verbal abuse, mention of physical abuse if you squint, *best Daniel Riccardo voice* nooooot prooooofreaaaad

Notes: written in third person . I am neither the youngest nor have brothers, so I tried my best to get an accurate relationship depiction. Ironically, I'm the oldest with sisters.

Masterlist

The Leclerc sister is known by her brothers as the baby of the family. Even Arthur, who is only older by mere minutes, holds it over her head that she is the youngest.

The constant teasing from her siblings made her learn how to use her quick wit. Verbal comebacks becoming her specialty at a young age. Because of her ability to be polite in public, no one suspects what she is truly capable of.

Her brothers tease her regardless but she lets them. Her sharp tongue making them regret not holding theirs.

Pierre had made this mistake once. Mainly under the influence of Charles convincing him to say something at her expense. The verbal lashing he received in response had him apologizing profusely. Charles doubling over in laughter as her practically lectured his friend. Needless to say, Pierre has yet to make this mistake again.

Charles was by far her favorite sibling. Lorenzo had a habit of bossing her around and Arthur shared a room with her. She loved all her brothers, but felt the most connected to Charles. She followed him around like a lost puppy some days. Ready to cheer him on at every Karting race.

This was where she first encountered Max.

After the race, she went to go congratulate Charles for a race well done. He was third but all the Leclerc’s were proud nonetheless. On the way over to him, she saw Max. He was at majority of the races Charles was at. The two had never talked formally, but they were aware of the others existence.

Something about the situation she was witnessing didn’t felt right. Max was standing with his dad, his knuckles turning white from gripping his second place trophy so tightly.

As she walked by, she almost fell over at hearing how his father was treating him. The slander leaving his mouth over his son placing second almost made her tear up. She was only nine at the time, but even she knew whatever was happening was wrong.

So she steeled herself, took a deep breath, and entered into the conversation. She walked up and tapped Max’s shoulder. He jumped at the feeling, not having seen you coming.

“Hello Max, Charles is busy with family but wanted to congratulate you.” She smiled warmly at the Dutch boy. Obviously taken off guard.

Jos turned to her, also not knowing how to handle this. “Not much to congratulate,” he sneered. The young Leclerc narrows her eyes at him. Not realizing how brash the older man is.

“What do you mean, Mr. Verstappen? There is plenty to congratulate.” She questions back, her tone mildly snarky. Obviously having no intention of backing down. The older man didn’t even bothering responding to her. He turns on his heels and walks away. Yelling back to Max “I’ll be in the car.”

Max looks between the girl who he’d never spoken too and his father. Unsure of what he should do in this situation. Thankfully the girl notices this. “Sorry for stepping in. He sounded unreasonably upset.” She apologized with a huff.

“Thanks actually- for what you did.” Max stutters out. No one had ever taken the time to defend him.it was an unusual feeling. He knows he can’t stay long though. “I should go. I’ll see you around- I guess.” Then he runs off. Waving as he goes.

She had told her mother about it. The older woman explaining what was probably happening at home. It made her sad for the Dutch boy. Having to hear that it happens more often then just races.

This was only the first encounter with Max. The Leclerc sister made it a point to find Max after every race and praise for a job well done. Much to his fathers dismay. She knew she couldn’t stop what was happening, but maybe her words would help ease some of the hurt.

The girls mother occasionally helped out with her quest. Walking with her daughter to find the Dutch and congratulate him.

It became a routine. One that Max was starting to enjoy. The seeking out now being reciprocated. The two even finding time to converse about things aside from racing.

Max’s father had started to become increasingly more annoyed at this fact. Pulling Max away from you. Spitting vulgar words at a child that wasn’t even his own.

Pascals had made a note that if she was directly insulting to Mr. Verstappen, it might make things harder for Max. She still made her snarky remarks and threw insults at the older man, but only loud enough to make Max chuckle.

Her brothers eventually caught on. Charles and Arthur saying nice things to Max in passing. Charles was more strained, but was trying nonetheless.

The brothers began teasing her relentlessly as they grew up. Her fondness for Max only growing. Her quick tongue seemed to falter when they brought up Max. She held a soft spot for him, as he did for her.

When Max and Charles were in formula 2, she was incredibly proud of both of them. She divided her time equally between the two boys. Still always making sure to sing Max’s praises loud enough for everyone to hear.

Originally she though Max’s father would cool down and maybe start to see how talented he is, but she was mistaken. The older man somehow seemed to get more competitive.

It was increasingly easier to talk to each other now since the two both have phones. She comforted over video calls as he ranted about something stupid his father said to him. He listens to her talk about her fathers battle with illness. The two became inseparable. Being the reason for each others smiles on most occasions.

Then formula 1 came. Charles driving for Ferrari and Max for Redbull. The youngest Leclerc baskets in both boy finally making it. Years of hard work paying off.

Max no longer lived at home. Having moved to an apartment in Monaco. This meaning the two could spend more time together. The, now young woman, takes pride in that fact she convinced him to move closer to her.

She’d become more outspoken recently. Opening defending both her brothers and Max. Most people knew not to say anything if she was within earshot.

The year is now 2021 and Max and Lewis are both fighting hard for the championship title. Max was visible upset at the end the race. Second place wasn’t enough if Lewis is going to keep winning.

The young woman immediately trying to find him after the podium celebration. She had seen the look in his fathers eyes and is now frantically trying to beat him to Max. Charles and Arthur found her in a frenzy. Confused because she is usually calm, her sarcastic remarks and opinions given so level that you’d think it was rehearsed.

“I need to find Max.” She explained, panting from running around the paddock. They decided three sets of eyes would be better then one and split off in different direction.

She was so caught up in her search for Max that she hadn’t noticed her phone buzzing in her pocket.

A text from Charles reading: In the back of the Redbull garage. It doesn’t look good.

She took off running spotting snarled waiting for her outside. She could hear the commotion from Jos.

“I was going to try and break it up but they won’t let me in.” Charles gestures to the wall of Redbull engineers. She however, wasn’t going to let them stop her from getting to Max. She shoved her way through with determination and surprising strength. Immediately settling herself between the two Dutch men.

Jos had turned his anger towards her now. His finger getting dangerously close to her face. “You are part of the problem.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “The only problem currently is you.”

“My son has been distracted because of you. His hopes for a title this year not getting any better because of you.” He spits. She can feel his breath on her face.

“Personally, I think Max is a good racer because he wants to be. Not because of you or me helping or distracting.” She lets a smirk form on her lips. “Your just angry because your finally running out of things to berate him about. Hard to be angry when Max is better then you.”

Jos’ face had turned red. She could feel Max’s anxiety increasing from behind her.

Then everything happened in slow motion. She hadn’t noticed Jos’ hand raised above her. Charles moved faster then anyone. Shoving Jos to the side, his hand not getting to connect with anything but the nearest wall.

He was raging now. Thrashing like a child who didn’t get their way. Pierre and Charles who had somehow managed their way inside kept a firm grip on him as Christian ran to get security.

The Youngest Leclerc. The one who spent her days defending Max in secret, keeping the haters at bay never letting Max go a day without know he is loved. Finally she turned around and stared deeply into his eyes. Blue irises glasses over from tears he’d been holding back.

She embraces him warmly. His face buried into the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” She apologized softly.

Max pulled away and gives her a confused look. “On the contrary, I think you were right on time.”

Security had come and grabbed Jos to escort him out of the paddock. Charles and Pierre now finding then tension between the two heating up. The two boys giggling. “I swear if you two don’t kiss or something I will no play nice with Max.” Charles laughed.

She didn’t care about the teasing. Just taking time to comfort Max. The two still conjoined in a loose hold.

Max leans his forehead against hers. “You know I’ve loved you for awhile right?” He smiles.

“You would be stupid to not.” She remarks. Max shaking his head at the remark. “But I have to agree with Charles on this one.”

Max doesn’t hesitate any longer. Placing his lips on hers. Pulling her as close to him as he can. He then pulls away, his lips still close to hers and voice barely a whisper.

“Thank you, for protecting me all these years.”

[boiohboii]

LMAOOO THIS WITH THE LECLERC BROTHERS 😭😭

https://youtube.com/shorts/aFHKUtjI44s?feature=share

That went well? (Lando Norris x Leclerc! Reader)

N.B: this had been in my drafts for a while, I hope you like it.

WARNING: SWEAR WORDS. F WORD MULTIPLE TIMES. PREGNANCY PRANK PLOT. MENTION OF COCK AND DICKHEAD (BOTH USED AS INSULTS). MENTIONS OF HITTING / SMACKING AS AN OLDER BROTHER (I DO NOT CONDONE VIOLENCE) let me know if I missed anything!

You didn't know how they managed to convince you, honestly it was a suicide mission, but still you could see the fun in your brothers' reactions, which is why you decided that inviting your brothers and their partners over would be a good way to do the prank.

Setting everything up, you started to get extremely nervous, you didn't know what to expect, all three Leclerc males are very unpredictable even if you grew up together your whole lives.

You knew there was no going back once you heard Carla's (Aurthur's girlfriend) scream from the bathroom, where you had set up the pregnancy test in the bin- hidden but visible enough for someone who would throw something away to see.

Meeting Lando's eyes from across the table, the same thought ran through your heads- well, there's no going back now.

While Arthur rushed to see Carla, followed by Lorenzo and his girlfriend, Charles spotted your nervous expression, your bouncing leg and your nails picking at the opposite thumb tearing off the skin. It was the last action that stopped the middle Leclerc boy dead in his tract, you only did that when you think whatever you did or said was downright bad- should stay away and isolate myself bad.

"YOU FUCKING BRITISH BREADSTICK," a strong, enraged voice echoed through the entire building "I WILL MAKE YOU CHEW ON YOUR OWN COCK YOU DICKHEAD."

Now, the Leclerc brothers have heard Lorenzo cursing up a storm before, but he had always been very careful around YN, installing into Charles and Arthur that yes you can swear and joke around with such words and insults around your friends, but not around girls and most certainly not their baby, innocent sister.

Was YN scared? Yes, she had never heard her brother sound so furious. Was Lando shaking in his non existent boots? Absolutely. The young driver started to sweat as soon as he heard the loud cry of his girlfriend's oldest brother.

Flared nostrils, red face and steam coming out of his ears, Lorenzo appeared at the end of the hall looking like he had fought his way out of an amusement park's death train seat.

"YOU GOT YN PREGNANT!"

Now, it was Charles' turn to follow his older brother's footsteps, "YOU FUCKING TOOL BOX! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

"YOU WANKER!" now Landk did not expect Arthur to insult him with his own language- the British, but you can't always know what life's gonna throw at you.

Just like how he did not expect to be running around town at 7 PM trying to avoid Lorenzo's shoe that seemed to always re-appear in the eldest male's hands, along with trying to not get anymore bruises from the broken stick in Chales' hands (it broke as the older F1 racer smacked it on his back) all while trying not to question how Arthur even knows that many british insults.

"I feel like we should tell them that it's a prank." YN uttered softly, wincing as Charles has managed yet again to hit Lando, as if it was his birthday and Lando was his pinada.

"No no," Carla giggled as she watched Lorenzo's dress shoe fly across the street "this is fun."

[clauscielo]

⊰⊹ pure, uncorrupted

pairing: arthur morgan & virgin!reader.

summary: you are too pure, too naive. and he hates to see other men fantasizing about tainting you. so, before someone else does - he decides to do it himself.

warnings: mentions of rape/sexual abuse, past physical/psychological abuse, corruption kink, arthur takes reader's virginity, arthur is protective, but lonely and hates himself. legal age gap, oral sex (fem receiving), p-in-v sex, loving sex, creampie - english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes!

he would never forget that day. trelawny had told them a few weeks earlier that, southwest of valentine, just a mile from the village, there was a farm: two houses and a barn. trelawny claimed there was a large amount of money hidden there, illegitimately earned by the family.   

that's why they went. micah, bill and arthur set out into the night, riding toward that farm. thieves robbing thieves.   

the family consisted of a father and two sons. they had no choice but to wipe them all out. arthur had never liked to take the lives of innocent people, but these people... they didn't feel right.   

the house was very untidy inside, grimy, and there was a padlocked door on the upper floor. while micah and bill ransacked the downstairs, he took a look at the bedrooms, and of course, kicked in the locked room door.   

you were in there. cowering on the bed, pressed against the wall, shivering and sobbing. you had heard gunshots and banging, you had tried your best not to make any noise, but they had found you. arthur was perplexed. he studied you for a few seconds, processing the situation: this family had you locked in this room. you were wearing torn and dirty rags, and your room was even more neglected. there were flies, food from days ago, and only one bed in the room.   

“it's okay, it's okay. i ain't gonna hurt you,” he finally said, slowly approaching you.   

micah arrived shortly after, and a crooked smile came across his face.   

“well look at this, morgan! i say we have some fun. bill, get up here!” his cruel words irritated arthur deeply.   

“get out of here, you foul thing! wait downstairs!” he raised his voice, and micah only let out a challenging laugh. still, he obeyed, after arthur shot him a menacing glare. 

you, still shaking and weeping on the bed, watched him. the thought that the man in front of you had protected you from the others, soothed you a little.   

arthur couldn't kill you. how could he kill you? it wasn't an option.   

“what are you doing here, girl?” he moved a little closer and noticed that one of your legs was covered in bruises.   

“i-i was... grounded,” you mumbled, between sobs. arthur frowned and clicked his tongue.   

“were those your father and brothers?” he asked, his hand hesitantly stroking your forearm, seeking to calm you.   

you nodded, hot, copious tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. he sighed.  

“they're dead. i'm sorry,” he began, and his heart shrank at your obvious expression of relief. “you can come with us, we won't hurt you. we'll take you to valentine,” he added.  

you nodded, raising your arms toward him. arthur accepted the gesture, and with his strong hands on your armpits, he lifted you and carried you in his arms, heading for his horse.   

you refused to stay in valentine that night. you begged again and again to be taken with them. and this snarling, distrustful outlaw, softened at the image of you, a forlorn young woman alone in this world that had so embittered him over the years.   

“we're taking her,” arthur said to the other men.   

“morgan! we can't afford another mouth to feed!” bill protested.   

“we're taking her,” he insisted, his tone firm and intimidating, and the others snorted.   

 it had been months since that night. you were accepted into the gang of outlaws arthur lived with, but you had a hard time adjusting. you developed an unhealthy attachment to the man who had rescued you, who you considered your hero. whenever arthur was in camp, you followed him, trying to talk to him. being close made you feel better. but he was very cold most of the time.   

“girl, really, you need to leave me alone. what d'ya want now?” he said, his tone showing irritation, when you approached to talk to him for the tenth time today.   

 your smile vanished, your expression transforming into one of pain and embarrassment. you blushed and lowered your gaze, and before you could say anything, he snorted heavily.   

 “i'm sorry. i'm sorry, i just like to be alone, you know that,” he replied, exasperated. 

 you fiddled anxiously with the edge of your blouse, pursing your lips sheepishly.  

“i just wanted to be with you for a little while,” your voice came out shaky and low. arthur's heart almost melted.   

“come,” he said, curtly, sitting down on his bed.   

“no, n-no need. i'm sorry to disturb you.”   

“come,” he repeated, louder now, as a demand.   

 you shrank back but obeyed and sat down next to him. he looked at you, his blue eyes scrutinizing your sad, anxious expression, his frown easing.   

“i can't be with you all the time,” he explained. your lip quivered, and you nodded.   

“i know. i know. i'm sorry.”  

“it's not because i don’t want to. it's because this... this thing you got with me, it can't go on,” he said, his hand stroking your hair, tucking a lock behind your ear, his actions contradicting his words. “you're gonna have to leave here someday. and if we don't stop this in time...” his words trailed off.   

“i don't want to leave.”   

“you're absolutely gonna leave. don't be silly. you don't belong in this kind of life. when you get your strength back, i want you out of here.”

 you looked at him, wide-eyed, silent.   

“don't look at me like that,” he spat, annoyed. but a second later, he sighed. “we're not doing you any good. not me, not anyone here. you understand that, don't you?”   

“i don't have anyone else. i'll be alone,” you said, your heart racing with fear.   

 arthur stroked your cheek, thoughtfully. he had grown so fond of you these past few months, that he could hardly imagine his life without you anymore. but the rational part of him knew you had no future here, not with someone like him.   

 that's why he pushed you away. that's why he tried to ignore you. he couldn't stand seeing the way you looked at him, like he was a hero, a savior. because arthur was nothing like that. arthur was a criminal, a murderer, a ruthless, bitter, outlaw with no future, someone who only brought tragedy into people's lives.   

“i don't like it when you're this mean to me,” you muttered, pouting, still hurt by how he had greeted you when you came.   

“i know. forgive me,” he whispered, looking at your hand. he wanted to take it, to feel it, but didn't dare to.   

 weeks passed. arthur hated the way the men looked at you. micah, especially. that sick, deranged bastard. he mocked your innocence, your naivety.   

“well, i've been dying to deflower that little lassie, the new one. ever since we saw her at the farm i been saying we have fun with her, but morgan won't let us,” protested micah, sipping from his bottle of whiskey, one night by the fire.   

“do you think she's a virgin?” javier replied with curiosity.  

“please!” interjected bill, laughing. “that girl doesn't even know what screwing is.”   

 “of course she doesn't. i told her to blow me the other day and she just looked at me with those dopey eyes of hers,” micah cackled.   

 arthur overheard the conversation and felt his insides boil. listening to those nasty old men, talking so crudely about a young, proper lady like you, made him sick.   

 “what the fuck are you talking about?” arthur snarled. he snatched the whiskey bottle from micah's hand and faced him, with an annihilating glare. “if you ever talk about her like that again, you better make sure i don't hear. or i'll cut that throat of yours so you never say a fucking word again,” he said, his voice low and intense, getting micah to turn away, letting out a nervous laugh.   

 he retreated to his tent, furious, and was startled to find you there. he put his hand to his chest and shook his head. “what are you doing here, you want to scare me to death?” he wheezed, anger still boiling inside him.   

 you looked at him with a smile and showed him a flower crown in your hands. “look what i did,” you declared, proudly, your eyes on his, perhaps seeking approval in his expression. he eased back and couldn't hide a soft smile, gentle and loving. he took the floral diadem and placed it on your head.   

 “beautiful,” he whispered. you blushed heavily and pressed your lips together, excited.  

“i was reading and in the book, it explained how to make it and what flowers were ideal for it. i think it turned out really pretty,” you explained.   

 “yes. it looks very pretty. but you should be sleeping,” he scolded you.

 “i'm sorry. i was excited and wanted to wait for you to come back,” you defended yourself. he smiled.   

 he couldn't help but bring his hands to your face. you were so precious, so candid and credulous. and those abhorrent men were talking about deflowering you just a few minutes ago... it made him feel like throwing up.   

the affectionate gesture surprised you. your cheeks grew warmer. “what's wrong?” you asked, uneasy, and he dropped his hands to either side of his body.   

 “nothing. nothing,” he huffed, rubbing his face with his hand, frustrated, confused.   

 he knew he didn't do you any good. but how could he let you go? the world was full of disgusting men like micah. men who wouldn't hesitate to hurt this girl he had come to love.   

 he pushed past you and sat down on his bed.   

 “i want you to keep away from micah no matter what, do you understand? whatever he says to you. you stay away. and if he bothers you, you come and tell me immediately,” he said, without looking at you, his tone stern.   

 you didn't answer, you just nodded. you would do anything this man asked of you.   

 “are you sad?” you asked, moving closer to him. arthur was slow to answer, still not looking you in the eye.   

 “yeah. i am,” he admitted, sighing. you sat down next to him, and hugged him, trying to comfort him and also, seeking solace.   

arthur wanted to push you away, to scold you for invading his space, to urge you to leave him alone. but he couldn't do that anymore. he didn't want you to leave, and each and every time he had asked you to stay away, he had betrayed himself. he let himself enjoy your touch, your scent, and your warmth for the first time. he closed his eyes and leaned in slightly, sliding his arms around you.   

 “forgive me for being a sorry son of a bitch to you,” he whispered, very remorseful.   

“it's okay. forgive me for always being annoying.”   

 “you're not annoying. don't ever say that again,” he replied, his chest vibrating against yours every time his husky voice made itself heard. “i've been a real jerk.”   

 you fell silent. you didn't understand what this was about. and arthur was grateful for your ignorance. he wouldn't know how to comfort you, how to make you forget those nauseating words if you had heard how you were spoken of before.   

 “i need to lie down, sweetheart. i'm very tired,” he mumbled, pulling away a little. the affectionate nickname made your heart skip a beat. you nodded, watching him lie down, his expression one of displeasure.   

 “can i stay with you?” you whispered, fearful that he would say no. but he nodded without hesitation, and you settled in next to him. his heart was about to burst out of his chest. he let you snuggle up to him, and his arm slipped loosely around your waist.   

 “gonna stop by saint denis tomorrow to run some errands. wanna come with me?” he asked, and you looked up at him, your eyes widening with excitement.   

 “really?” arthur let out a chuckle and confirmed. “yes, please. i'd like that very much.”   

your excitement stirred something inside him. he felt a warmth in his chest that he had never felt before. such a sweet being like you...and your father and brothers had you locked in a filthy room, only to be discovered by men who just wanted to fuck you and leave you stranded. what would have become of you if he hadn't gone and robbed that farm with the others that night?   

“okay, sweetheart.” he used the nickname again, which made you grin like a fool. “i'm gonna sleep now, okay?” he said, and stretched his arm over you, reaching over to the bedside table to put a glass over the candle to put it out.   

 you pouted, and rested your head on his chest. “okay,” you whispered back, closing your eyes.   

 arthur was trying to hide it, but he was so nervous. it had been ages since he'd been this close to a woman, let alone a woman such as yourself. his pants had started to tighten since you first curled up with him, though he tried to act normal, his heart pounding in his chest.   

innocently, you ran a leg over his thigh, sighing. his arm tightened around your waist. he was restless, tense, and kept shifting his posture every few minutes.   

 inevitably, his eyes opened in the darkness. he couldn't sleep.   

“i like being like this with you,” you whispered when you noticed he was still awake. “it gives me... this nice, funny feeling in my tummy,” you added, and arthur let out a shaky sigh.   

“oh, yeah...?” he replied, absently, your words replaying in his mind.   

 “yes... it always happens to me when i'm around you,” you confessed, your candid statement making his cock grow harder in his pants.   

“don't get used to it,” he growled. you looked up, saddened.   

 “don't you like being like this, together?” you asked, your voice low and apologetic. arthur exhaled hoarsely.   

 “too much, darlin'. too much,” he admitted, without looking at you. he was getting carried away.   

 you slid slowly onto his lap, and his breath hitched.   

 “what in the world are you doing?” he whispered. he panicked, feeling your pelvis right on top of his erection, which he had been trying to hide all this time.   

 “i want to be real close to you,” you whispered. “do you mind?”   

 he looked at you with pleading eyes and shook his head, he was speechless. he tried to push you away, but his hands wouldn't move.

 “the book talked about this too... about men, women...” you began, your voice shy as you explained.   

 “no. we're not doing this, girl,” he protested. but he didn't really mean it. the least he wanted right now was for you to get off of him.   

 “please...” you begged. “i just want to know how it feels.”   

 his face was burning, his cock throbbing desperately in his pants, needing urgent relief. so you were indeed a virgin.   

 this wasn't right. he wouldn't take advantage of you.   

 “why?” you wanted to know.   

 “you're a virgin,” he declared, in a low gasp. you didn't respond, just shrank back a tiny bit, with shame. “my god, you're a virgin... no, i... i can't. i can't.” he covered his face.   

 arthur had never been with a virgin before. let alone a virgin with a life like yours. were you even aware of the importance of what you were asking? 

 “oh, don't do this to me, please,” he whimpered, his hands sliding over your thighs, down to your buttocks. you blushed and let out a sigh of pleasure, rolling your hips against his, trying to ease the burning between your legs. arthur let out a low moan, his eyes half closed, his cheeks red.   

 “baby... we can't... not with me,” he whispered, desperate.  

“i want it to be with you,” you murmured. and he had no more strength to resist.   

“do... do you want me to put it inside you?” he asked, pressing his pelvis against yours, making you feel his whole erection, warm and big against you.   

 “yes, please...” you begged.   

 “oh, sweetheart...” he swallowed, flustered. it had been so long since he'd last had sex, and now he had a beautiful, untouched woman in his lap, begging to be fucked. it felt like a goddamn dream. and he felt disgusting about it, but he was so turned on by the idea of taking your virginity. he felt like a hypocrite.   

 his hand slid down your ass cheek and under your nightgown. his fingers reached for your panties, his arm around your leg to touch you.   

 “you're so wet,” he murmured. he closed his eyes for a moment, the heat feeling a little overwhelming. “take off your nightgown, baby.”   

 obedient, you removed the garment slowly, remaining in his lap, your body covered only by your bra and panties. arthur exhaled, salivating, his gaze gliding over every inch of your exposed skin.   

 “you are exquisite,” he said to himself, almost as a reproach. he shouldn't have to be doing this. but he couldn't stop. he just couldn't. he began to unbutton his shirt. “can i see your tits?” he asked, rhetorically, since he knew that without complaint you would take off your bra. and so you did.   

 his lips and tongue immediately landed on the soft skin of your breasts, after having devoured you with his gaze for a few seconds. his lips left kisses, his tongue caressing and frolicking around your nipples. you moaned and stirred on his lap, immersed in pleasure and desperate for more.   

 he removed his shirt, and eagerly, unbuckled his belt. 

 “gonna get on top, it may hurt a little this way,” he whispered between kisses. you nodded, and let him grab you by the thighs, your arms around his neck as arthur changed position.   

 he laid you down gently, and his hands crawled up your thighs, spreading your legs. his eyes lowered to your crotch, the fabric of your underwear was visibly wet.   

 “darlin'... i'm not gonna last. haven't done this in a long time,” he said, his hands shaking a little, he was so horny he could barely think coherently.   

 “i-it's okay,” you murmured sheepishly.   

 he knelt between your legs, and placed soft, warm kisses on the sensitive skin of your thighs, moving closer and closer to your center. he kissed your pussy over your underwear, and pressed his face to it, inhaling your scent.  

“delicious,” he purred, closing his eyes, sucking and kissing over the fabric. his hands, big and strong, squeezed your flesh, eager to feel you. his right hand traveled down to your crotch, pushing aside the annoying material of your panties. “what a pretty little pussy,” he growled, and glued his mouth to it, licking between your warm wet lips, sucking on your clit, devouring you like a hungry man.   

you moaned, your legs trembling. his hands pressed against your thighs, spreading them wider, and when his fingers left your panties, they again came between you and his touches.   

 “fuck,” he hissed in frustration, and roughly, he yanked them off you, sinking his face back between your legs, parting you wide and devouring you with both intensity and desperation. 

 “i'm going to put my fingers in, okay?” he warned, looking down at you, his beard wet with your juices, his cheeks red. you nodded, your gaze clouded with pleasure. his ring and middle finger teased your sensitive, dilated entrance. slowly he slid them inside, feeling the rough texture of your insides tightening around his thick digits. he moved them slowly inside you, curving and massaging your insides lovingly, while his tongue and lips fed on your juices and moans, sucking on your sensitive, sweet spot.   

 “you're so tight,” he gasped. he pulled away briefly, to pull down his pants. his cock sprung, flushed and swollen, eager for the delicious relief only you could bring him. “look how you got me, baby...” he whispered, wrapping his member in his left hand, squeezing it slowly. “how you get me, always.”   

 your pussy clenched around nothing, feeling emptier than ever. “please... arthur,” you whimpered. he looked at you, unsure, was he really doing this? you deserved better than this. something so much better than this.   

 but the urges in his body were too strong, they absolutely ruled him. he placed his cock against your center, gripping it firmly, and rubbing its tip between your lips, pressing lightly as it met your entrance, tiny but eager.   

 “darlin’... what the hell are we doing?” he said, sliding in just the tip, which was thick enough to make you whimper. “ow... baby.”   

 you felt so full. you looked down, and you could see his thick member, disappearing inside you. your pussy throbbed and squeezed him, unable to adjust to his size. he was huge.   

 before he got it all in, arthur had to pull it out a little. “you're too tight,” he let out a pitiful whimper. “i'm gonna cum.” he added with embarrassment.   

 he pulled out, taking a deep breath. he leaned down to kiss you. he kissed your lips lovingly. god, he'd been so rude, not kissing you all this time. he relished your lips, and you could feel the wetness of his beard against your chin and cheeks. he penetrated you again, and this time he entered you somewhat more easily.   

 “enjoy, sweetheart... just enjoy,” he whispered, watching your face contort in pleasure. he had to close his eyes, imagine the horses, the flowers, the bees, the smell of the barns, or he would cum right there, inside you. he pushed it all the way in, his tip pressing against your cervix. “does it hurt, honey?” 

 “no, no... i... it feels so good...” you moaned. you felt so full, his cock was so thick you felt like there wasn't an inch of you he wasn't touching right now. every little movement of his hips, pressing against yours as he nestled his face into your neck, made you shudder.   

 “fuck... yes, squeeze me like that,” he begged, closing his eyes tighter, starting to move his hips, his hands squeezing your thighs and pressing them against the bed, spreading you wide to penetrate you deeply. “thank you, thank you...” he gasped hoarsely.   

 your small hands clung to him, your nails sinking into the flesh of his back, his big, strong back, as his whole body enveloped and filled you.   

 one of his hands slipped between your bodies, and he began rubbing your clit, each thrust making his member bury itself deep and hard inside you, your tight body giving him no respite.   

 “please tell me you're close. i can't hold on much longer,” his voice sounded strained, cracked. the bed creaked beneath you, his hips slapping against your ass every time he bottomed out inside you. 

 “yes, yes, please don't stop,” you whimpered. his hot, sweaty skin clung to yours, the heat under the sheets thick. his smell, salty and masculine flooded your nostrils, and his cock filled you, again and again, your snug cunt squeezing, sucking him deeper and deeper inside.   

your orgasm was intense. you trembled beneath him, your cries and mewls getting louder, and you writhed, your pussy milking him dry. arthur frowned in concentration, letting out soft grunts and whimpers as he moved within you. he came too, couldn't help it, his legs quivering as well. his thrusts became ragged and desperate, his eyes rolled back slightly as his cum filled you, hot and thick. "oh, god," he whined quietly. his strong arms hugged you closer, pressing you tighter to him as he left you completely full of him.   

 “d-darling,” he gasped, shuddering on top of you, his strokes slowing, until he stopped. his hands, scratchy from work and guns, slid over your sweaty skin and squeezed your breasts and hips, before holding you tight. “don't leave me, please.”

[pastryfication]

hii! i was wondering if u could do a fic about leclerc sister and carlos alcaraz once again? maybe they went to see her brothers race? :D

ferrari fan

pairing: leclerc sister!reader x carlos alcaraz note: had to do this after carlos was spotted in the alpine garage!! haven’t proofread this so i’m sorry if there’s any mistakes i’m sorry!! xx

sometimes it still feels surreal to be dating carlos—the young tennis superstar who’s swept the world by storm and somehow, amidst his packed schedule of grand slams and training sessions, found time for you. today, though, there’s a clash: carlos has been invited by alpine to the monza grand prix, and while he’s excited, you’re already committed to ferrari for the weekend. monza isn’t just any race—it’s the tifosi’s heart, and it means everything to your brother and the whole team. you’ve grown up surrounded by the red of ferrari, and skipping monza just isn’t an option.

you’re in your hotel room, getting ready for the day, when carlos walks in, holding two paddock passes—one from alpine, one from ferrari. his smile is cheeky, and you already know he’s gearing up for some playful teasing.

“so, ferrari or alpine?” he asks, waving the alpine pass in front of you with a mock-serious expression. “think you can survive a race not in red?”

you laugh, rolling your eyes at his theatrics. “oh, please. monza with alpine? i might get disowned,” you tease back, reaching for the ferrari pass and snatching it from his hand. “besides, if charles sees me in any color that isn’t red, i’m pretty sure he’ll never let me forget it.”

carlos grins, leaning closer, his eyes sparkling with that boyish charm that makes it impossible to resist him. “yeah, but imagine how much fun it would be to wind him up. ‘oh, charles, i’m just here with alpine, no big deal,’” he says, mimicking your voice dramatically, and you both burst into laughter.

“you’re so annoying,” you say, but there’s no heat in it, just affection. “look, if you want to go with alpine, i get it. but i’ve got to be with ferrari. it’s monza.”

he watches you for a moment, the playfulness softening into something warmer. “nah,” he says, his voice softer now, “i’ll go with you. wouldn’t want to miss the chance to see the italian grand prix through your eyes.”

you smile, touched by the gesture. “good choice. plus, you look way better in red,” you add, poking his chest lightly.

before long, you’re both at the circuit, dressed in your ferrari gear, surrounded by the roars of the crowd. you’re in the ferrari garage with charles’s girlfriend, alex, who’s always a comforting presence, and lorenzo and his girlfriend, charlotte. it’s a tight-knit group and carlos fits right in, trading jokes with charles, arthur and lorenzo like he’s been a part of this world forever.

as the race unfolds, cameras catch glimpses of you and carlos in the ferrari garage, cheering, reacting to the twists and turns on track. you’re leaning into carlos’s side, both of you engrossed in the action, and he’s got his arm around you, his other hand gesturing animatedly as he tries to keep up with the fast-paced energy of the pit wall.

you’re filmed laughing with alex during a particularly tense moment, then celebrating together as charles makes a great move on track. lorenzo and charlotte are nearby, sharing smiles and excitement, and the cameras keep circling back to your group, catching every genuine moment of joy. the tifosi love it—they love seeing the leclercs together, your little family surrounded by support, and they’re intrigued by carlos, the tennis champion who’s enthusiastically embraced ferrari red for the day.

social media explodes with clips and photos of the two of you, the shared intrigue between the racing world and tennis world creating a buzz. people can’t get enough of carlos’s easy fit with your family, of the way he stands next to you with that familiar, relaxed confidence, clearly enjoying every second. it’s rare to see him outside of his own sport, and fans are eating it up—there’s something so refreshing about seeing carlos, the world number one, just being a supportive boyfriend at a formula 1 race.

when the race ends, you’re all smiles, swept up in the post-race adrenaline. carlos wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to your temple as the cameras catch the moment. you glance up at him, your heart full, and he just grins down at you, both of you perfectly at ease in the whirlwind of it all.

“see?” you say, bumping his hip lightly. “told you monza was the way to go.”

he chuckles, nodding in agreement. “you were right. ferrari suits us.”

and in that moment, surrounded by your brother’s team, your family, and the roar of the ferrari fans, everything feels exactly as it should be.

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Who’s the Other Girl?

Summary: Tommy is having an affair with you in the states but what happens when you are face to face with his wife, Lizzie.

Warnings: Infidelity, talks of divorce, women standing up for other women.

I bet you're from out West somewhere

Hazel eyes and dark brown hair

And everything you wear fits you just right

I bet you drink martinis dry

And never let him see you cry

I bet you're more promiscuous than I

I bet your bold, 

I bet that’s why you seem to occupy his mind

I bet you’re smart

But do you know about me?

“You were just in the states last week, tell me again why can’t Arthur go and get this woman if she’s so needed here?” Tommy huffed as he finished lacing his shoes, snagging the cigarette from between his lips, looking up at Lizzy with a stare of annoyance as if he hadn’t explained several times before.

This was now the fifth week in a row that Tommy had met with Y/N due to “business”, Lizzie was already calling the bluff on that after a photo of the two of you together had been posted in the paper.

Rumors had already circled the Garrison that Thomas was involved with another woman and he had refused to make any comments regarding the accusations. 

Standing up he disposed of his cigarette, noticing the upset in his wife’s eyes. 

“Hey c’mere.” She allowed him to pull her near and dear into a hug but somehow even with his arms wrapped around her, he felt tremendously far away, straying further each time he’d come home.

“I’ll be back before you know it alright? Tell the children I love them.” Placing a kiss on her forehead, Lizzie tilted her chin up, hoping for more but all she received was Tommy walking out the door, leaving her bottom lip quivering, hands shaking with anxiety, knowing all too well how the story goes.

Going to the window, she watched him get into the car, glancing at his watch while Ruby’s footsteps hurriedly ran across the room, tugging at her mothers skirt. “Mommy, mommy! Where’s daddy going?” She looked down at their child, trying to come up with an answer suitable for a child.

“He’ll be back soon honey. Your father works hard to ensure our safety, and he loves us very much. He’ll be back soon.” Picking the child up, holding her closely to her heart she watched her husband leave, nothing but hopelessness filling her heart.

The fire was lit dimly in the living room as she settled with a cup of tea, trying to avoid picking up the paper but curiosity and the need to know getting the best of her.

Finishing off the tea, with shaking hands she looked at the headlines, her heart aching at how beautiful Y/N was. The picture was her and Tommy seated at a bar, far too closely to be just friends. Her legs were crossed like a lady but Tommy’s hand lay on her thigh, other arm wrapped behind her while she was smiling brightly, blushing like a girl in love.

She looked beautiful, attractive, young, strong, all the traits Lizzie didn’t feel she had anymore. A sudden, simple realization in the photo was almost too much to bare for her weeping heart when she realized Tommy’s wedding ring was no longer on his finger.

The question lingered in the air, did you even know about her, has Tommy told you he was married and if so why engage. Then again Lizzie was aware how convincing and manipulating her husband was. After all from the photo, you did strike her as smart but that didn’t take away from the younger facial features. If she had to guess you were in your mid twenties, and she was well aware how simple it was for men to deceive young women, especially when they were in love for the very first time.

Attempting to put her mindset in yours, she ganderd into Tommy’s office, opening multiple drawers and rummaging through scattered papers until she found the document of the deal.

Surely a young woman like yourself didn’t know how Tommy Shelby operated and to always read the fine print.

Skimming through the contract, she noticed your signature was not at the bottom yet which she believed to be rather odd, but maybe that was why he was bringing you back here. Why not just take it with him though?

All of the endless questions became answered with a simple sentence written in smaller, italicized text at the very bottom of the paper. Almost too small for even Lizzie to read.

“Termination of ownership shall commence after signature is received. Ownership of business transferred solely to receiving partner Thomas Shelby along with any additional funds requested.”

He was going to leave her with nothing. Absolutely nothing, high and dry. Lizzie knew very well what it was like to have nothing and try to find her way through life living off of the scraps of men. Searching the paper once more she found your address in the states, contacting one of Tommy’s assistants insisting that he get a letter to Y/N before it was too late on the behalf of Tommy. Simply stating he had forgotten to take an important paper. Maybe after all the wrongs she had committed in her life, this one good thing would act as a repetence.

Are you the one he's talkin' to

When he gets up and leaves the room

And comes back with a distance in his eyes?

Maybe I should be the one to leave

But damn, when he starts lovin' me

He makes me think I'm all that's on his mind

The knock on the door startled you from your reading. Glancing at the clock, a wide grinned expression spread across your face, knowing fully well who was at the other side of the door.

You’d been aware he was married but after some time of convincing, Tommy had ensured you he’d be leaving Lizzie and there was nothing to be ashamed of, nor feel guilt about. You had never met Lizzie, only heard about his wife through passerby’s conversations.

With the door opening, his piercing blue eyes enchanted your every being, reeling you in, never allowing you to take a second to think. It was like he put a spell on you. “I’ve missed you darling. We’re set to leave around four, surely plenty of time to…” He brushed his warm hand down your cheek sweetly, those ocean eyes scanning your body with such precision and crave. 

Jumping up into his arms, your legs wrapped around him as he kicked the door shut behind him, walking you into the bedroom as your lips collided together in a profound, lustful sensation.

As clothes were shed and he towered over you in the bed, your legs spread once more for this handsome, intimidating man.

He peppered poetic kisses down your neck, leaving marks on your shoulder blades as he thrusted momentously through your sweet succulency, fucking you in a way no other man could.

Impatience, and pure desire washing over you every time you saw his nude, muscular body, you thrusted down with him in harmonious rhythm, stemming your blooming rose with his cock. His eyes never once left yours, your fingers intertwining together as he released his seed into the tight, tunnel of love between your thighs.

When he excused himself to the restroom, out of the corner of your eye the wedding ring sitting atop the bedside table caught your attention. 

Was he really going to leave her? Are the children aware? What were you getting yourself into?

Hearing the toilet flush, the phone rang along with it, and it wasn’t long until you heard Tommy’s voice. Talking as if he were somewhere else, still closing the deal with you.

“We’ll be leaving soon….I invited her to dinner….it’s just business….alright see you soon.”

Just business? Is that all you were? Saddening, you rolled out of bed to retreive your clothes as if that would mask the betrayal and pain bubbling in your heart.

This exchange was supposed to be more than business, maybe not at first but you had grown up with nothing and Tommy was the only willing to invest in the idea of your, and the amount of money he invested was more than enough and made you feel like your ideas weren’t of nonsense or daydreams. One thing turned into another and once that pub opened after a tremendous amount of indecent flirting, you found yourself bent over the bar and Tommy making endless visits to your hometown, spending nights tangled between the sheets of your bed, him spoiling you with surprises and gifts. But what was it all for?

His heavy footsteps entering the room pulled you away from the questions.

Right away he could tell you were upset when your teary, pained eyes connected with his.

“Is that all I am to you is business?” He scoffed, approaching the clear understanding that you’d overheard the phone call and just like that with the flip of a switch his lips curled into a soft, endearing smile while his ocean eyes bore over you sincerely.

“Of course not. I’m trying to let her down easy Y/N. After we finish business, the loose ends will tie together and things will be settled. Alright?” Why did you believe this man who had promised you nothing? Why did his voice have to sound suave and convincing? Your mind was telling you one thing while your heart told you another.

Is it me? Is it you?

Tell me who

Who's the other girl?

Who's the first? Who's the fool?

Who's the diamond? Who's the pearl?

Are you mad? Me too

And I wonder in his world

Is it me? Is it you?

Who's the other girl?

You stop to collect the post, realizing there was a letter addressed to you from Birmingham, surely it wasn’t Tommy considering he was in front of you.

Guilt, and shamefulness flooded your veins while your heart felt like it was waiting to explode in your throat. Contemplating on throwing the letter in the trash, you thought better and slipped the envelope into the clutch Tommy had bought you weeks beforehand.

Stopping along the way to put petrol in the car, you excused yourself to the restroom while Tommy went inside to pay the employee, grabbing a pack of smokes as he did so.

Locking the door and fumbling frantically, you ripped open the letter, not knowing what to expect but it was quite clear who wrote this.

             “Y/N. My name is Lizzie Shelby, 

I’ve presumed you’re aware of me. I’m writing this letter to inform you there is no hatred in my heart toward you. I’ve been in your position of the other woman. There’s no need to tell Thomas as we will meet soon. Don’t allow your heart to stop you from seeing the manipulation. I must speak with you when you arrive, please don’t take this as jealousy but coming from a woman who has been at the other hand.”

What did this mean? How did she know about you? Surely Tommy wouldn’t tell his wife about his mistress.

A sudden knock on the door reeled your mind away from the letter.

“You alright in there?” Checking yourself in the mirror and shoving the letter in the pocket of your purse, you opened the door, attempting to appear unpanicked and at ease.

“Yeah, just was washing my face, let’s go.”

Who's gonna put on the red dress

Scarlet letter on her chest

Can't love with this on her conscience

Tell me who's the other girl

I bet you're cool, I bet that's why

You seem to occupy his time

I bet by now

You know about me

And you know about me

Walking into the dining room, you were taken aback by just how much money Tommy had. The shimmering chandelier, the golden authentic tablecloth, the peruvian curtains, the fine china. Amidst your shock, Lizzie strutted into the room from the kitchen, cradling Ruby gently in her arms while Charlie was running circles around the house. Your eyes locking in a surprised, yet insecure expression while the question, the elephant in the room sat quaintly up in the air. Who did Tommy’s heart really belong to?

Strutting behind you, Tommy lay his hand gentleman like on your back, offering you a drink in the process.

“Y/N this is my lovely wife Lizzie. Very wise she is, and my two children Ruby and Charlie. Dinner is almost ready, sha’ll we sit?” You smiled kindly, ready to take your seat before Lizzie interrupted. Clearing her throat as Tommy pulled your seat out before her own.

“Actually, Y/N do you mind if I speak with you for a moment? I just have a million questions about the states, I’ve always wanted to go.” Tommy peered in her direction, slightly agitated but nodded that it was alright. Lizzie handed Ruby to Tommy, escorting you two rooms away into the living area.

She was poise, collected, much taller than yourself but never did you get the impression she was a threat, even though you considered the situation rather uncomfortable and off.

“I assume you’ve read my letter.” She spoke in a hushed tone, but with a kind hearted smile, insisting you take a seat across from her.

Nodding, a cat felt like it had a hold of your tongue, not knowing exactly how to respond or act.

Reading you like a book, she could tell you were quite nervous and maybe the best way possible to approach this was to come straight to the point head on.

Reaching for her purse, you couldn’t help but notice it was the same one Tommy had surprised you with but a different color. That’s odd.

Pulling out the contract, she allowed it to sit on the glass table in between you for a brief moment.

The hand writing you recognized right off the bat to be Thomas’s with the perfect cursive letters, simply reminding you off all the letters he had mailed to you when he was in Birmingham.

Shrugging off your confusion, you straightened your back, pretending as if you held confidence.

“Y/N is it?” Nodding, she carried on, glancing into the corridor, ensuring her husband wasn’t on his way in here.

When she spoke her voice was gentle, speaking with kind concern, and a soft tone.

“I remember when I was your age. So young and in love, willing to do anything just for another moment with a man. I assume this is you first-“

“How long have you known about me?” You interjected, anxiety and curiosity rising in your throat. She was beautiful, quite breathtaking and the children were so innocent and completely unaware of their father’s infidelity. Why would he do this to such a magnificent woman, whom carried his child. Guilt was eating away at your stomach.

“I’ve had my inklings for quite some time now. Probably back in November. How about you?”

“Mrs. Shelby I don’t mean any disrespect but the plan here tonight um-“ You itched at the back of your neck nervoulsy, the guilt and truth eating you alive.

“His plans you mean. I feel it my duty to inform you to read the fine print before you sign your business over to him.” Before you could respond Lizzie excused herself, not wanting to take longer than she already was without Tommy gaining suspicion.

Reading over the night quickly, you were in shock and disbelief, realizing Lizzie was the one telling the truth. Fighting back tears, you set the paper back down, wiping your teary eyes.

“Y/N, dinner’s prepared. We have your place set.” 

Who's the first? Who's the fool? 

Who's the diamond? Who's the pearl?

Are you mad? Me too 

And I wonder in his world

Is it me?  Is it you? 

Who's the other girl?

“I suppose this dinner conversation is about the contract you’ve left mistakenly on the table. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Lizzie shifted in her seat as you took a deep perforated breath, thinking wisely before speaking. The atmosphere in the room came to a still, eyes wandering from one another in guilt and shame.

“This can’t be real. I-I thought we had a future together, we had a plan.” Your voice cracked, sadness washing over your aching heart while Lizzie looked confused from the other side of the table.

“I-I’m sorry what?” Settling his napkin over his thigh and sighing, he took a drink of his wine, clearing his throat.

“Did you think I would leave my family for you? My children?” Lizzie was stunned by the revelation that Tommy told you he was leaving her. Was she really just a pawn all along?

“Where does your heart truly belong Tommy?” Her eyes spoke with vindication, and impatience for her dying marriage. 

Tommy stood from his seat, pouring himself a glass of whiskey, allowing the cold stream of alcohol to stream down his throat, reminiscing the moment before lighting a cigarette.

“It’s just business. If I recall correctly, I’ve given you many things Y/N. A car, a home, enough money to live your life comfortably.” Lizzie scoffed in her seat, swirling the wine in her glass.

“Oh please, that’s not the only thing you’ve given her.”

“Nevertheless. With signing over your business you’d be doing yourself a favor and I knew by making you fall in love with me, that would be quite easy with me as the only investor. Such a small, inexperienced girl in a world full of wolves waiting to sink their teeth in. Signing your rights over would be the wisest thing to do. You give me the business, we’ll part ways just as business deals operate.” Your thoughts were running a mile a minute, as each venomous word he spoke shattered your heart.

All sense of reality diminished, any hope that a man could love you and take a risk for you seemed impossible.

This was no one night stand, but an ongoing affair and you were sat in the lions den between a rock and a hard place.

Lizzie frowned in her seat, thinking of where she went wrong that Tommy would throw their entire marriage away just for extra money he didn’t need. The cold hard truth was Tommy could buy out a business with a simple sentence, he wanted to fuck you and dispose of you.

“Clock’s ticking Y/N. What’s it going to be?” Time bore down on you, massive decisions between right and wrong impending a headache.

Tommy held out the pen, watching you sit there in defeat. 

Reaching for the pen, about to sign the paper Lizzie stood up grabbing the pen from your shaking grip, taking you both by surprise.

“No! Do not sign that pub over to him. After everything you’ve worked, all the time and effort you’ve taken into opening this place up. You’ve taken so many risks. Don’t do this Y/N, he has done nothing but manipulate. Please be wiser than I was at your age. He will leave you high and dry though you may not see it now, believe me.” Tommy’s shallow blue eyes rolled in irritation, slamming his drink down on the table nearly shattering the glass.

“Enough! I don’t recall your name on the contract Lizzie.”

“This is my fucking house as much as yours and I will not let you stomp and parade all over me any longer nor her. In fact I think I’ve just developed a new way of business. I want a divorce.” The room turned completely silent.

When you tried to get up and excuse yourself in unison they spoke loudly, “Sit down.”

Lizzie was fuming, the vein in her forehead visibly popping through her skin while her nostrils flared in anger.

Aiming for the contract, she picked it up ripping the paper in shreds while Tommy grasped for her wrists to try and stop her.

“You can expect to hear from my lawyer and I will be taking the children. They’re hardly yours, you’re never here to take care of them. The endless nights I dealt with them asking why their daddy is never home because he was fucking some other woman out of the country. I’m sure this wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last.” Tommy was at a silence, excusing himself from the room leaving you and Lizzie alone.

“Lizzie I- I really don’t have the money to keep this place open on my own. I can’t-“

“Well then consider me your next investor.” You were shocked by her statement, not expecting the sincere offer.

“I- I feel like I just tore apart your whole marriage, why would you want to do business with me?” Shaking her head, she smiled sweetly, raising her glass in satisfactionz

“No sweetheart, you got rid of my problem. I’m better off without him. We both are. So what do you say?”

[noxturnalpascal]

Devotion 🖤 II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 5)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

⚠️PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE SERIES WARNINGS, ESPECIALLY: possessiveness, manipulation, Joel gets mean, Joel gets verbally and physically abusive.⚠️

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

PREVIOUS

II. Predator or Prey?

CH 5 (6.1k) Joel doesn’t see a single hair on your head for days, Tess is guarding you like a mother bear, refusing to let him even peer in your doorway. Still sick, she keeps muttering to him, leave her alone she says repeatedly. Who the fuck does she think she is to tell him what to do? This is his fucking house. And yet she keeps sending him out of it, keeping him the busiest he’s ever been in the community. He leaves at sunrise and comes back long after dark.

Then, finally, he walks into his house on Christmas Eve after having been out all day and you’re wrapped in a blanket, sleeping in the chair in front of the fireplace. He stands over you, watching you sleep until a noise from the kitchen wakes you, your startled eyes darting around and meeting his intense stare. Your eyes are wild once again looking up at him, a heady combination of fear and anger. He drinks it in.

You quickly dart your eyes back to your lap and that’s where they stay for the rest of the evening. Even when you’re sitting at the dinner table next to each other, and when he’s standing in front of you at the valley gathering to sing Christmas Carols in the large church around the town square. You won’t look up.

The next morning the household all gathers together to exchange Christmas gifts. Joel watches you open the gift he wrapped for you, after he told Tess that you would be his giftee and not the random name she had drawn for him. You pull the twine and old newspaper away from a tattered paperback copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, turning it over in your hands to inspect the ripped cover. 

He waits with bated breath as you look it over and then, without even a glance in his direction, you set it down at your side. That used to be his favorite book, the one he would read to Sarah when she was very young and bored of her little children’s board books. He remembers how much she loved him doing low, rumbled voices for the Gorgons and would giggle when he described all the different creatures Arthur encountered in his travels through the galaxy.

But you don’t react, you don’t say anything, you don’t look at him. He feels his guts tightening, pulling inwards, igniting a low, burning flame of anger. He clenches his teeth and tries not to audibly growl as the day proceeds on and you ignore him as if he were invisible. As if you couldn’t feel him staring at you. As if he weren’t a hulking, burning man sitting within inches of you all day and night. 

–

Two days later, the Thursday meeting is wrapping up and you’re moving as quickly as possible, to be able to walk with the rest of the group back to the house. The last farmer breaks off from you and Joel, and you can see the front porch in the near distance, quickening your steps to make it inside the house as rapidly as possible. You hear him close behind you, matching your pace and just before you reach the door handle he grabs your wrist.

He pulls you backwards into his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and splaying his hand over your stomach, pressing his nose into the back of your head and inhaling your scent. He’s gripping you so hard you can barely struggle against him. When you gonna get over this, baby?, he growls in your ear. Baby. You’re not his baby. You tell him so as you try and wrestle your face away from his, the scraping of his stubble along your neck, the moist heat of his breath. 

“Yes you are, you’re mine.”

He hates the way you thrash in his arms, the way you avoid his gaze day in and day out. He hates that you haven’t even thanked him for the Christmas gift, that you left it sitting still on the floor in the family room. He hates that you’re making such a big deal out of a stupid little blow job. What was he supposed to do? You were too sick to take care of him, so he found relief where he needed to. It’s nothing new, this is how it's always been. He deserves to be taken care of.

He lets go of you and you bolt upstairs into your room. He hears the lock click behind you.

He was so close. So fucking close. He almost had you, how did you slip through his fingers? He knows how. He made a mistake. His mistake was letting you think that you had some kind of exclusivity to him, some kind of claim on him. How could you think that after all this time? You’ve been here long enough, you should know better. You should know how this place works by now. What makes you think you get to tell him what he can and can’t do, that you get to decide what goes on in his house? This was your fault. You were wild once, you were free. But you gave in like all the rest of them, you gave up, you let him tame you. Why did you do that? Why were you so easy for him to break?

–

You’re being so fucking sensitive, acting like a kicked puppy. It’s New Year’s Eve and he’s had to stare at his Christmas gift on the floor for a week now. He can’t even walk through that room without getting pissed off. The way you’re acting like a spoiled fucking brat, flinching when he goes to touch you and sitting in silence at every meal. Yesterday at the interfaith service, he filed in with the rest of the household and watched you try and sit in the third row instead of your usual place with the other women in the second row, directly behind him. How fucking childish you are. He gets up out of his seat when he notices and grabs you by the hair, ignoring your pathetic little cries, Tess’ pleading with him to stop, and the startled gasps of those around him. He drags you to the second pew and throws you down next to Tess, where you belong. All of this nonsense because you won’t forgive him. No – not forgive – he doesn’t need fucking forgiveness. You’re just playing the victim, like you always do. God, he should have seen the writing on the wall. He should have known that you were never gonna be satisfied with what he gave you, even when he gave you so much. You only ever wanted more, all you did was take. There you are again, creeping around the edges of the room, trying to hide yourself from him. As if he can’t fucking see you, as if he can’t fucking feel your presence in the room. He’d tried to follow you when you darted off immediately after arriving tonight but Tess redirected him to the old theater that was used as a dance hall. He had people to talk to, she’d said, as if he gave a shit about what any of them had to talk about. He has his own fucking problems right now, he shouldn’t have to listen to Peter blabbering about whatever stupid issues he was having with his furnace. Or was it his roof? Who fucking knows, Joel isn’t even listening to him. He sees you dart into a shadow and he excuses himself to Peter as he’s already walking away. You need to grow the fuck up and stop playing these stupid, childish games.

Is Joel doin’ okay? 

People keep asking Tess. They’re too reverent of him to be specific in their questioning, they won’t say that he seems off or cranky or downright distracted. But they can see it as well as she can. He’s grasping at you as you dodge him in the hallways at home and now he’s started doing it in public. She watches him grab your arm and push you against the wall at the New Year’s Eve party and she crosses the room as swiftly as she can without drawing unwanted attention. 

She hears him snarling I’m the only one who fuckin’ knows you as she pulls him off you, leaving you to scuttle away and find another dark corner to hide in. Joel pushes against Tess’ grip on him, knocking her backwards so she almost stumbles over a row of chairs. Before she can fully lose her balance he’s grabbing her arm, hard, pulling her back upright and then snapping at her.

“Why are you so fuckin’ clumsy?”

Several people nearby whisper to each other but Tess smiles and attempts to laugh off the incident as a joke. She sees he’s starting to lose it, that the cracks are starting to show. His foul mood is permeating the very air around him, threatening to rot everything they’ve worked so hard to build. She feels like she has to do something, she just doesn’t know what.

–

The following Thursday you just barely beat him up the steps inside the house and by the time he’s rattling the door handle of your room you’ve locked yourself securely inside. He’s scaring you. You were hurt by him. So hurt. And you were mad. So fucking mad. But now? Now you’re mostly just scared. You don’t think he would touch you without your permission but he’s been getting physical with you, powerful and rough, growling nasty shit in your ear and subtly suggesting your permission is inevitable.

Two days later you return to the house with Sasha after your baths and scamper up to your room only to find the door gone, removed from its hinges completely. No more locked doors in this house without my permission, Joel announces as he stands – smiling – at the bottom of the stairs, inescapable. You try to brush past him on the way down but he pulls you close, shoving his face into your neck and biting firmly at your jaw. Your hands fumble on his shirt, clawing to push him away, telling him to get away from you.

With a huff he pushes you backwards, your back colliding with the stairway wall and rattling the framed artwork hanging there. He loosely wraps a hand around the column of your throat and holds you there.

“Get away,” he mumbles. “S’my fuckin’ house and you want me to get away?” 

He stands there a moment longer and squeezes your throat with just enough force to demonstrate that he could do more if he wanted, but instead he turns to walk away. Just then the front door opens and you see Tess returning with an armful of scavenged items. Seeing an opportunity to escape out the door you tense your body to run, but you hesitate. You make the mistake of looking over at Joel before you go and he’s looking right at you. You bolt forward but before you even clear the threshold of the door his fist is in your collar, yanking you backwards onto the floor.

“You can’t fuckin run from me, girl,” he points his finger in your face where you lie. “You can’t fuckin’ escape.” He grabs the front of your shirt to lift half your body off the floor, closing the distance between his face and yours. “I’m already in there…” he taps his finger in the middle of your forehead. “You’ll never be rid of me.”

The sting of his words hurts worse than the callous way he lets your body drop back to the floor. You hate to admit he’s right. He’s already in your head, you think about him constantly even still, even after what he did. You feel him deep inside of you, digging his claws in, settling in for permanent residency. You know you’ll never be the same, that you’ll never be without him again. You’re possessed by him.

That night after dinner Joel makes an announcement. No one is allowed to leave the house without his permission and no one goes anywhere alone. Tess audibly scoffs at his announcement before she’s cowed by his sharp glare in her direction. You remain silent beside him. He saw the way you looked at that open door, he knew you were going to flee. He won’t lose you. He can’t. 

You belong to him.

–

On Monday, Tess assigns you to hunt and gather with Sasha, which should keep you out of the house all day. You’re not sure how much of the crazy look in his eyes Tess actually sees, but he’s becoming more cruel and unpredictable. You know he’s just acting out because you’re not giving him what he wants, which he’s clearly used to getting. You don’t think he’d really hurt you, you don’t think the other women would allow him to hurt you, but you’re becoming more doubtful with each outburst that he has. 

You’re so happy to be out of the house and away from his constant scowl and ever-watchful eye and Sasha doesn’t put up a fight when you offer to separate from her. You point out that you can cover more ground apart but that’s not the real reason you want to split up.

You like Sasha, she has a no-bullshit attitude and talks to you like she’s known you forever, making her really easy to be around. You’re able to easily ignore the fact that she’s most definitely slept with Joel because she’s smart, resourceful, and strong – things you don’t consider yourself – and she makes you feel safe when you’re with her. Sometimes you think that maybe you spent too much time with your head in the clouds fantasizing about Joel when you should have been learning from Sasha instead. You’ve learned more survival techniques in the last month than you have in the last decade, and that’s all because of her. She’s been a great teacher and she doesn’t make you feel stupid or useless – although you make yourself feel that way sometimes. Part of you wants to tag along with her but you think she might be easier to convince to let you come with her again if you stay out of her way today. 

It’s cold but not snowing and you’ve bundled up with the winter gear Tess gave you from their last raid. You explore the edges of town, places you’ve never been before. You pass by some abandoned buildings but know they’ve all been picked over. You’ve rarely been out this far from the house before, and never alone. Joel and Tess would let you go fishing and set traps with Sasha but always preferred that you keep closer to home, Joel especially seemed to want you to stay in the yard if you weren’t with him.

It’s kind of exciting to explore the borders of the small mountain town on your own, fulfilling a sense of adventure while being almost perfectly safe, as all the buildings have already been cleared and are routinely patrolled. But you feel a bit of freedom out here, freedom that Joel has been taking from you bit by bit. You feel lighter, unencumbered by the weight of Joel’s expectations and his hands constantly pawing at you. At the house you feel like a bird in a cage, and walking through the snow-capped buildings today reminds you of what independence feels like.

There’s a loosely constructed barricade along the valley-facing edge of town made from broken down cars wedged together, building materials from deconstructed buildings, and logs from felled trees. Along the mountain-slope side of the town, there’s less of a structure – the rocky woods being protective enough on its own. There’s still some repurposed fencing that runs along sections of the hill, with paths walked by the patrols snaking in and out. It’s along one of these sections of fence that you find a large overgrown thicket of sumac bushes. 

Conical clusters of deep, red berries still hang heavy on the branches, bowing them down to the snow-dappled earth. You remember your dad giving you lessons on the Sumac bushes that grew on the bike path near your house growing up. The fuzzy red berries are edible, but sumac with smooth, white berries are poisonous. You know these berries are okay to eat but you’re not sure how good they’ll taste, since they most likely ripened months ago.

You break off some of the better-looking bunches, putting them into the satchel slung over your shoulder. Your stomach rumbles, reminding you how you barely ate breakfast this morning. Out of the corner of your eye you watched Joel scowling at you until you lost your appetite and asked to be dismissed from the table. The berries aren’t as plump and juicy as they once were but they are tart and filling – once you’ve eaten enough of them.

You head into the center of the thick brush, shielded from the biting wind amongst the dense leaves. You find a comfortable spot to rest and pick at the bush, mindlessly eating the small, scarlet berries. You start to feel alone, to feel lonely. You think about your search for Bianca on New Year’s Eve. You’d looked in every building around the main square, but just like Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve, you didn’t see her. The dance hall was your last place to look for her and all you’d found was Joel - the one person you were working your hardest to avoid. 

You were reeling from what happened, from witnessing what still makes you sick. Even now you feel a knot in your stomach, biting back tears whenever you’re left with your thoughts too long. What’s worse is that the pain and suppressed jealousy is renewed every time you see Kerri. You weren’t sure what kind of comfort Biance would even offer you but maybe if you asked her about Joel, you could see the truth in her eyes. Did she know? Had she fucked him? What were you supposed to do? 

How can you move on from what feels like nothing short of a betrayal? 

Maybe you’re being over-dramatic, maybe you should get over it. That’s what Joel keeps telling you - just move past this – muttering it into the wood from the other side of your closed bedroom door. But it twists like a knife stuck into your insides and squeezes your heart tight like it’s going to stop beating. You’ve given him nothing but trust, and he’s lied to you — just like the rest of them. He’s just like the rest of them. The tears that run down your cheeks chill you, so you bury your face in your knees, waiting out the time you wanted alone. Is this what you wanted?

When you meet back up with Sasha to head home you proudly show her your harvest. She looks them over and tells you that they’re a bit dried out but would most likely still be tasty and has several ideas of what to use them for. She says you did a good job but you wonder if she’s just being nice, seeing as how she has two rabbits slung over her shoulder and a satchel full of rattling black walnuts as well as heaping boughs of conifer needles she says are for medicinal uses. She asks how many of them you ate and you find yourselves laughing together when she points out how stained red your fingertips and tongue are.

Sitting around the dinner table that night however, there’s no laughter. Everyone eats in near silence, only interrupted by Tess’ low voice quietly asking Sasha if the afternoon was prosperous. You’re pushing food around your plate, waiting for Joel to dismiss you from the table when he grabs your left hand roughly. Your fork clatters to the plate, piercing the quiet of the meal.

“What’s all this? Blood?” he nods towards your red-stained fingers, looking at Sasha down the table, expecting an answer from her instead.

“N– no! T– the red is from berries sh– we picked today,” she stumbles.

“Berries?” he scoffs. He makes a show of looking around the table, sweeping his free hand over the surface. “Where are they?” He finally looks at you but you don’t lift your head to meet his eyes. “You didn’t bring any to share?” He squeezes your fingers together painfully. “Ate them all yourself?” he rumbles.

“They’re downstairs,” Sasha interrupts, earning a sharp look in her direction. He doesn’t say anything but the why is obvious on his face. She continues, “They’re kinda dried out so I thought they’d be better fully dried and then we can use them–”

He raises his free hand up to silence her, still squeezing your fingers tight in his other hand’s grip. 

“You don’t like the food we feed you here?” he gestures to your half-full plate of cold food. Your eyes remain cast down. “Hmm?” he squeezes tighter until you wince.

“Joel,” Tess starts.

“Shut up,” he barks, not looking at her.

“Maybe you’re full from all the dried up fuckin’ berries you ate today.”

He throws your hand down on the table and stands up next to you. He grabs your plate and lifts it over your head before throwing it forcefully against the wall behind you. The plate shatters, the food splattering against the wall and sliding down to the floor. Joel’s face is back at your ear instantly. His hot breath wafts across your face as he snarls at you.

“If that fat little belly is so full of berries you can’t even eat your dinner, why don’t you head up to bed?”

You hesitate, afraid to move.

“Now!” he screams, and slams his fist down on the table, causing plates and silverware to rattle loudly, making everyone at the table to jump.

You get up and run up the stairs to your bedroom. You lie facing away from the open doorway, this position serving as your only form of privacy. Hours later when everyone else heads to bed you hear his lingering footsteps in the hallway and hear him announce that no one is allowed to eat food outside of the house without his permission. He’s talking to everyone but you can tell he’s facing you when he says it. He lingers there for a while before you hear him retreat to his room, slamming the door loudly behind him.

–

You wake up early in a panicked sweat and think you’ll beat him to breakfast but find him already at the table silently watching, waiting. You have to get away from him today, you’re jumping at every little thing, the scrape of his knife across the plate and the movements of his feet under the table. You spend breakfast being watched again, picking at the eggs on your plate. He stares you down for a while and then huffs loudly, muttering under his breath.

“You better eat your fuckin’ breakfast or I’ll fuckin’ feed it to you myself.” 

You beg Tess to let you go out foraging again, thinking Sasha will be okay with splitting up again. Tess allows it and Sasha reluctantly concedes that you can split up, strongly advising you to find somewhere quiet to lie low. She passes you some jerky, shelled walnuts, and drinking water from her pack before quickly plaiting her long, light hair. She tells you she’s going to head towards the old ski resort, but says that you have to stay close to town and out of sight. Her blue eyes are piercing as she makes you promise to meet up at the entrance of the old cemetery just before sunset so you can head back to the house together.

This plan goes off without a hitch and Sasha returns with enough foraged and scavenged items that it’s completely believable that you were both working to collect them, even though you spent the entire day wandering around the old lumber mill. There’s nothing to do there but it’s been cleared of infected so you know it’s safe. It’s also surrounded by woods and separated by a creek from the old inns and apartment buildings filled with Valley residents, so you know no one will see you there.

You repeat the pattern for the next several days and on the third morning you swipe a blanket from the couch and a book from Joel’s office after he leaves. You’ve spent the days stacking scraps of wood into makeshift furniture as if the mill was your own little rough-loft apartment, and are going to spend today reading about Dr. Alan Grant and Dr. Ellie Sattler’s terrible visit to Jurassic Park. You’ve gotten comfortable here, letting yourself relax in a way that you can’t at home.

Joel is watching you morning, noon, and night, and you don’t even have a bedroom door to stop his prying eyes. You should feel exposed here in this wide-open room, left alone all day, but you feel the opposite. At home you hear his grumbling voice, even when you can’t make out the words, you still hear it like a constant buzz in the background. But at the mill in the woods you only hear the soft sounds of the nearby creek and the gentle pat pat pat of the dripping snow being melted off the roof by the mid-day sun. You feel protected here in your clandestine daytime accommodation, you feel unshackled. The idea that you could transform a run-down abandoned thing into a comfortable and beautiful space fills you with a sense of beauty. You snuggle into your blanket and dive into the book. Eventually you close your eyes, letting your mind replay the scenes from the movie that you so distinctly remember from your childhood – the vibrations of the T-Rex’s steps, spattering rain on large, tropical leaves, the screeching of the raptors.

You wake up to complete darkness and a freezing rain misting against the half-broken windows. Shit. You’ve completely lost all track of time and have fallen asleep on your wooden cot, bundled snugly in a blanket with your book laid over your face. You’ve missed your late afternoon bath, you’ve missed your meet up with Sasha, you’ve maybe even missed your weekly meeting with Joel. You sit up in a panic as you recognize Sasha’s voice calling out for you. Shit! Then you hear a second voice, higher-pitched, calling your name out, followed by a deep rumble, almost barking your name. Fuck. You’re so fucked, the whole house is looking for you. He’s looking for you.

It’s Thursday and you should’ve been home hours ago, the sun having long since set. You should both be at your meeting right now but Joel’s heart nearly seized up when Sasha came home, late herself, without you in tow. She explained you’d gotten separated on the way back from the abandoned resort and she hadn’t been able to locate you. He sent Tess to the meeting in his place and threw on two pairs of socks and his warmest coat, envisioning having to hike a while to find where you might be hiding from him.

Sasha tells him that she last saw you by the old cemetery, so that’s where they start, Rosie throwing on a raincoat and volunteering to join in the search. The three of them quickly cover the cemetery and then work their way across some old cornfields, moving towards the community center. About forty minutes into the search he's beginning to think about doubling back when his flashlight hits a moving figure trotting across the softball fields. There you are. 

“Sorry,” you shout, your voice breaking, waving your arms over your head and making your way towards them in the dark.

He waits until you get closer to unleash his rage. Once you’re within his reach he grabs the scarf tail hanging out the front of your jacket and yanks you against him. You sputter with the force and reach to your neck to loosen your scarf but he blocks your hands, grabbing the front of your jacket with both fists and lifting your feet off the ground.

His face is so close to yours you can feel the moist heat wafting over your face, and spit from his angry muttering hitting your lips. Where the fuck have you been? Weren’t you fuckin’ listenin’ to me when I said you couldn’t go out alone? What are you thinkin’? You begin to cry, a strangled wail slipping out of your mouth. You’re not fuckin’ thinkin’, are you baby? There’s not a thought in that stupid little fuckin’ head. Your body is heaving with sobs now, tears streaming down your face. He lowers you back to the ground but holds you still.

The walk back to the house is silent except for your weeping, Joel clutching you tight to him as the other women trail behind. When you get inside you’re sniffling and shivering and Joel takes you upstairs to the bathroom. Kerri, who has been boiling water for a hot bath pending your arrival, gets the other women to help her bring several buckets of hot water to fill the tub, while Joel runs cold water from the tap to make it a more comfortable temperature.

Everyone leaves you and Joel alone in the bathroom and he robotically begins to peel your cold, damp clothes off your trembling body and pile them on the floor. You’re going to be completely naked in front of him. The only other time that happened, the situation was very different. You sniffle, looking towards him, trying to read his expression but his face is stone, impassive and stiff. You stifle a sob.

You let him strip you down to your underwear before you let out a whimper, too scared to say anything or bat his hands away. Shush, he mutters, turning you away from him by the shoulders. You face the steaming water, tears still silently dripping down your face. You’re almost naked now and cold, so cold, his hands feel burning against your skin. He undoes your bra at your back and lets you pull it down your arms as he unceremoniously tugs your underwear down your legs. This is it. You’re exposed.

You jolt as he grabs your upper arm roughly and guides you to step into the tub, letting go as you sink down into the hot water. You hiss as it feels scalding against your cold, clammy skin and when you sit and turn back to face him you find the room empty. He’s gone, left the door wide open, left you by yourself. You sit in the tub in the big, cold, empty room and begin to cry again, quieter this time. You think you really fucked up. Joel’s furious with you and Sasha and Tess are probably mad too. 

You silently sob, shaking with fear at what he might do to you, how he might retaliate. A knot in your stomach forms at the idea that he’d put his hands on you, that he would touch your body for pleasure when the thought of him only causes you pain. But then a sickening thought forms in the back of your mind that you’re such a pain in his ass that he probably doesn’t even want you anymore. You’re just a burden to him at this point, a helpless little baby he has to look after. Can’t be trusted to do anything useful around this house, can’t even be trusted to spend an afternoon alone without turning up wet and freezing cold.

–

You’ve been hugging your knees and letting your sorry self bawl into the bathwater until it turned tepid. Joel hasn’t returned and you haven’t heard his footsteps out in the hallway. You stand up and drain the tub, beginning to shiver once again as the cold air hits you. Without a towel to grab you tiptoe – still dripping wet – the few feet to your bedroom. Once inside you grab a blanket off your bed and wrap it around yourself, wicking away the water droplets on your skin and warming you back up. You climb into bed wrapped up like that, curling on your side with another blanket on the bed overtop you.

You’re startled out of your almost-sleep by the weight of a body sitting on the bed at your back. Fear strikes like a knife through your heart, knowing it’s him. 

“Come ‘ere…” you barely hear his throaty growl. 

You dare to hesitate and he springs into action, throwing the covers off you and dragging your naked body out of your blanket cocoon, throwing you – legs still flailing – over his knees. You open your mouth to cry out but a warm hand clamps over it firmly, silencing any protest you could make. Unbidden tears spill out of your eyes, running down over his fingers and falling to the floor below.

“You disobey me and you get punished,” he says matter-of-factly.

He begins with swats to the back of your thighs, your yelps completely muted by the heavy hand wrapped around your jaw. He doesn’t give you time between strikes to recover, nor does he pause to soothe your skin or offer you any comfort. You want to squirm away from the sting but you’re too scared of what he’ll do if you try to fight him. 

He delivers smacks to one cheek just long enough for it to almost go numb, before switching to the other. His blows land over and over, sharp and hot, unrelenting. You continue to cry, soaking his hand at your face, fighting to remain as still as possible despite every instinct in your body screaming to do the opposite. You’re not counting but it must be at least two dozen strikes before he finally stops.

You lie still and stinging, his denim-clad thighs rough and still rain-damp against your ribs. He remains above you, hands pulled back to his side, panting but mute. Eventually he shifts you off his lap and gently tucks you back into bed, his tender touches belying the harsh discipline he just doled out. He moves to the doorway and stops, his back to you, his head lowered. His voice rumbles deeply but clearly, to be sure you can hear him.

“I don’t know what you were tryin’ to do, but I swear to god, if you ever defy me again I will make you fuckin’ regret it.”

—

Tess returns from the meeting hours later, walking in the house to what looks like the middle of an argument. Joel has Sasha up against the wall in the front hallway, one hand splayed out on her chest pushing her back flush and the other hand pointing a finger in her face. Tess can’t make out what’s being said but Joel clearly doesn’t let her entrance interrupt him. 

Then – to her surprise – she watches as Sasha slaps Joel across the face. Joel takes several steps back, looking quite surprised. She sees his face go dark and pulls his own hand back, bringing it forward to reciprocate, knocking Sasha several feet over from where she was standing. But Sasha is ready for it, she takes the hit, absorbs it, and catches herself before she falls too far. She almost immediately rights herself, standing back in front of Joel, chin up, looking defiant. She raises her hand to slap him again and he stops it mid-air, grabbing her wrist firmly but not roughly. 

“Alright, enough,” he rumbles.

He releases her wrist and they nod to each other, apparently at an understanding. Sasha goes upstairs as Joel walks towards the door where Tess still stands. He’s moving slowly, like he’s weighted down, but his breathing is rapid, his eyes wide, and his forehead dappled with sweat. 

“Is PJ–” she starts.

“She doesn’t go out with Sasha anymore,” he interrupts. “In fact, she doesn’t go out at all. She stays here at the house. I don’t care what she does, but she does not leave.” He turns from her to walk away.

“Is PJ alright?” Tess finishes her sentence to his retreating figure.

“She will be,” he calls back, stalking towards his office.

Tess fully recognizes that the situation is becoming untenable. Joel has been growing more and more unstable, becoming increasingly physically violent with you, snapping at everyone in the house constantly, lashing out at her during their daily meetings and even worse is when he snarls his bullshit out in public, in front of Valley members. She understands that he’s not in a good headspace to talk about his feelings, but his affection for you has rapidly twisted into something much darker, something much more sinister. 

You are such a distraction to him and people are definitely noticing, someone new asks her nearly every day about him. She can’t keep covering for his volatile behavior. She has to find a way to intervene.

🖤

NEXT

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant (AND RANTING WITH ME) about Cult Leader Joel (CJ). 🫂I appreciate everything you do.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh

[nthspecialll]

Charles rode home, back to camp, back to the place and the people who had been his support the last half year, the people who had saved him and whom he had saved. He had known there had been troubles, he had seen it first hand, but he had not known that what he would arrive back to would be death.

Charles didn’t know what had gone down at Beaver Hollow, he had expected to come back to arguing, maybe some silence like there had been the last couple of weeks, quiet muttering and side glares. He had just buried Eagle Flies, yet another person who was manipulated by Dutch, one of his people, a young boy who just wanted to keep his people safe, to keep their people safe.

What does he return to? Grimsaw laying on the ground, gunshot to the stomach, eyes emptily staring out at the ransacked camp that had once been home.

I wonder if he thought it was the Pinkertons for a moment or if he knew that the inevitable had finally happened, that they had snapped, that his home was no more, that once again he was on his own, that his family had turned on one another.

I wonder if he feared walking in the area, afraid of whos dead body he would find next. Would it be Arthur with a bullet to the head? Would it be Javier with a new wound running along the scar on his throat? Would it be John with a knife still embedded in his stomach? Who of his brothers would he find next slaughtered by their own family?

He probably knew that the hole he was digging for Susan wouldn’t be the last, he probably knew he would make more, that he would find more bodies if he just walked the area. He was probably already grieving as he followed the hoof prints hammered into the ground, he knew whatever he was going to find would not be pretty.

He hadn't need to be a master tracker to find the next bodies, the distinctive horses he knew that John and Arthur rode, laying dead on the mountian, guns, saddles, personal items still left just like the animals he knew the people had cared deeply for had been left in a hurry.

He knew Arthur was sick, he knew that he was close, he would never have made it far, he had probably known since seeing Susan's body that he would find Arthur's too.

He was used to tracking animals to hunt, to eat, to survive, to find their hoof prints and broken branches showing their direction, now he was following an obvious trail of slips in mud, bullet shells and blood to find his friend's body, to give him the peace he deserved.

And finally, on the edge of a cliff, head tilted towards east where the sun rose, laid the body of his friend, his skin pale and his face beaten.

Charles had to lift his best friend, carry him down the mountian and up another to be able to forfill his wish, to be faced to the evening sun on a ledge, except Arthur had changed since then, he was no longer the same man so Charles faced him towards the sunrise, so he forever could feel the peace he had hopefully felt in his final moments.

I wonder if Charles went back, tracked John, found out he made it out alive, went back, tracked Dutch as far as he could before realizing it was not worth it before finally giving up and accepting that that was it.

Tilly? Abigail? Jack? Sadie? They had stayed but where did they go? He could track John, he could track Arthur, Dutch, Micah, Javier and Bill but what about the others? Did their bodies lay somewhere? Discharged as quickly as Grimsaw had?

Charles had loved being around others, but at what cost? How many bodies had he buried? How many times had his heart been broken because Dutch had made a mistake that had costed a life?

Maybe it was better being alone in the end.

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace Thank you for your beautiful comments! And for the ones that gave me ideas, trust me, I'm taking them into account ;)

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 (You're here) , PART 9

A little more of "The Dragon's Call"

Arthur: (at the feast waiting anxiously because Merlin is supposed to save him from "Lady Helen" to become his servant today and he isn't there yet)

Uther: Are you alright, Arthur?

Arthur: (too quickly) Yeah, right, excelent, never better.

Uther: You've been acting strange lately.

Arthur: (thinking) Well it's not easy to act normal around your dead father and your dead sister who wanted you dead. (says) I just haven't been sleeping well. I had... nightmares. Very long nightmares.

Uther: I see... (Thinking) I hope Morgana's condition isn't contagious.

Merlin: (Finally arrives with Gaius at the feast)

Arthur: (turns and his eyes find Merlin's almost immediately)

Merlin: (Thinking, while he looks at Arthur in the distance) Why is he looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?

Arthur: (Noticing Merlin is without his neckerchief, and he is so young and so beautiful, and he doesn't have his neckerchief on!) Gods have mercy!

Morgana: (enters in her breathtaking dress)

Merlin: (stares at her, but with a mix of longing and guilt)

Gwen: She looks great, doesn't she?

Merlin: (smiling sadly) Yeah...

Gwen: Some people are just born to be queen.

Merlin: (almost shouting) NO!

Gwen: There's no need to sound so disturbed.

Merlin: (composing himself) I'm sorry just... I think she could do better than Arthur that's all. (Thinking) And with someone that is not her brother.

Gwen: He's not so bad.

Merlin: (confused cause Gwen was supposed to agree with him) What do you mean? He was bullying a servant only a few days ago!

Gwen: I remmember. You confronted him about it.

Merlin: See? A total prat.

Gwen: And he also recognised his mistake and apologised. And he didn't arrest you for insulting him in front of his knights though that's technically treason.

Merlin: Okay, maybe not a total prat, but still a prat. (Thinking, worried) He was too nice indeed. Perhaps I was too harsh on him this time?

Morgana: (seeing Arthur is watching in Merlin and Gwen's direction) Have your eye on someone?

Arthur: (Cold) No.

Morgana: (playfully) Is it Gwen? or perhaps-

Arthur: Let's sit. Lady Helen will arrive at any moment (goes to his sit)

Morgana: ... Sure (thinking, while she goes to her sit) What's wrong with him?

Uther: (making an announcement) We have enjoyed 20 years of piece and prosperity....

Arthur: (thinking, resentfully) 20 years of genocide and lies.

Uther: ...It has brought to the kingdom and myself many pleasures but few can compare to the honor of introducing Lady Helen of Mora.

Lady Helen: (enters while people clap)

Arthur: (looks at Merlin in the distance)

Merlin: (very concentrated with his eyes on the chandelier, waiting for lady Helen to stand under it)

Arthur: (smiling to himself, thinking) So that's how you did it.

Everyone falls asleep, except for Arthur who does feel sleepy but is still slightly awake for some reason, so he gets to witness when all the room is filled with spiderwebs and Merlin uses his magic to make the chandelier fall over Helen, who is soon reveal to be Mary Collins.

Arthur: (confused) What... (thinking) Why didn't I fall completely asleep?

Merlin: (whose magic hasn't been able to freeze time since he traveled back in time, but he doesn't know why) Come on, come on! (Tries again to stop time but doesn't work) Damn it! (Shouts and runs to Arthur) ARTHUR!

Mary Collins: (throws the knife at Arthur)

Merlin: (covers Arthur with his body on time and the knife stabs his back)

Arthur: (horrified) NO! (Holding Merlin as they fall to the floor) No, no, no, no! You idiot, what were you thinking?!

Gaius: (running to Merlin) Merlin!

Uther: Who is this?

Gaius: My ward. (checks Merlin) We need to move him to my tower as carefully and quickly as possible. I can't pull the knife out here, he'll bleed to death.

Merlin: (smiling weakely at Arthur) I did it. (Tears of happiness) I did... (Starts closing his eyes).

Arthur: (panic mode) No! don't you dare die on me! (carries him as Gaius instructed) You're going to be okay, you're going to be okay. Stay with me (thinking) Please, don't leave me again. I just got you back. I can't lose you again.

Time skip. Merlin wakes up in Gaius's tower and with his wound bandaged. The knife didn't puncture anything important, but apparently the blade was poisoned. Fortunately, it was a pretty common one and Gaius took care of it rather quickly. Gaius scolds him for scaring him as expected but then hugs him gently and tells him he must not do any effort for at least 2 weeks and rest. Just as Gaius leaves for some herbs, Arthur enters to check on him.

Arthur: Better do as he says. I can't have my personal manservant injuring himself.

Merlin: Personal manservant?

Arthur: My father, the king, decided to reward you for saving my life by granting you a place at the royal household.

Merlin: (happy inside, but pretending to be annoyed) As your personal manservant? Couldn't he just give me gold or something?

Arthur: (playing along) Most would consider it a great honor.

Merlin: Well, I'm not like most people.

Arthur: (laughs a little) You certainly aren't. (Gets close and checks him out little, cause he's never seen Merlin without a shirt before and damn it! is hard not to stare, but as soon as his eyes land on the bandage, he turns serious) What you did was very brave... and stupid. You shouldn't have done that.

Merlin: (still mocking) If that's your way to say "Thank you for saving my life", well, yeah, I'm starting to regret saving your royal ass.

Arthur: I'm serious. Now you're my manservant, therefore my responsability and my concern. You're not allowed to put yourself in harms way, ever, not even for me. (Thinking) specially for me.

Merlin: (bewildered at the sudden concern) Is that a rule?

Arthur: It is now. Do I make myself clear?

Merlin: (touched, he smiles) Yes, my lord. (Thinking) I would die for you a hundred times over.

Arthur: (Thinking, a wave of nostalgia invading him) "My lord"... how much I missed that. (says) Good. Now get some rest (starts leaving, but stops and turns) And Merlin.

Merlin: Yes?

Arthur: Thank you for saving my life. (Makes a small bow, smiles and leaves)

Merlin: ...

Merlin: Did he just bow to me?!! 😨

...

Some explanation: Arthur is now, not immune, but a little more resistant to some mind spells since his mind is from the future and has already passed for all those spells before. Merlin's magic is kind of weak, because the ritual Arthur did used the magic from the tree, therefore Merlin's magic to do the time travel thing, so lets say his magic is a little exhausted and needs recovering, but it just last a few days.

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

I Love You's - (W/ America, Russia, England, Canada) x GN!Reader

Summary: Little fluffy scenarios where some of my favorite nations tell a gn!reader "I love you" 💕

Contents/Possible Warnings: Lots of fluff, kinda angsty tho for a lot of them, hurt with comfort, gn!reader

America (Alfred F. Jones)

He never thought he'd fall in love. It wasn't something Alfred avoided, but it also wasn't something he ever sought out. He had accomplished a lot in the relatively short period he had been around, he was still young and had opportunities to chase, and with that, he never imagined he'd have the time for romance. Still, things happened and now you were here with him, and there wasn't a happier man in the entirety of the world. With you beside him, he couldn't ask for anything better.

You were beautiful, so beautiful; both inside and out. Your hair was soft, your eyes captivated him, you understood him entirely, you loved him! He could go on forever, gushing about his awesome partner. You were the definition of perfection to him, flawed or not. He was head over heels.

"Love attack!" He nearly shouted while you were watching a movie with him in the living room one night, cupping your face in his hands as he began to pepper it with kisses. It startled you, but you loved it. One thing you adored about him was how he never tried to hide his affections. He was in love, and he'd be damned if he didn't show it.

You giggled, lightly pushing on his chest as he kissed every part of your face he could, now laughing himself. He kissed your forehead, your now reddened cheeks, your nose, and your cheeks again. When he was done he pulled back, grinning at the sight of your flustered, but happy expression.

"You missed, silly," you smiled playfully, pulling him back in before kissing him sweetly, satisfied hums escaping you both. You loved him, and you made sure to convey that with every movement of your lips together.

"I love you," He said between kisses. "My honey, my love, my baby, my sweetheart, my everything." It was true, you were his everything. He didn't want to live fast anymore, jumping at every opportunity, not when his most important one was right in front of him, and had such kissable lips, too.

Russia (Ivan Braginsky)

It was a well-known fact to those who had ever visited that Russia's house was more than just cold. It was freezing, something which you still weren't used to, even after all the years you had spent living with him. It got even colder during the night, and blankets could only do so much.

Ivan always hated the cold, the connection between it and the isolation he had endured throughout his life unable to be undone. Things were different now, though. He had you with him, someone to warm his heart, especially during those frigid nights he had dreaded so much.

"Ivan," you called out to him from the bed, wrapped up in multiple thick blankets that seemed to do nothing to keep you from shivering. "Come to bed, дорогой" You spoke with a tired smile, the last word making him melt as it left your mouth. 'Darling,' you had called him in his native tongue. He was your darling.

As he slipped into your shared bed with you he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his eyes closed in relaxation and bliss as he nuzzled his face into your hair. You made him feel warm, and that's all he ever truly wanted out of life. Someone to love, and someone to love him back.

"я тебя люблю." He mumbled against you, smiling softly. "мое солнышко." You were his sunshine, a ray of light shining through despite the clouds. He moved his head out of your hair and leaned down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. "Promise me you'll never leave," he told you, caressing your cheek gently. To anyone else, that would've sounded like a demand, but to you it was a request for comfort.

"I'm not going anywhere," You reassured him, kissing his cheek. "I love you, Ivan. With all of my heart. я тебя люблю."

England (Arthur Kirkland)

Having done so much throughout his history, Arthur savored quiet moments, even if they were little ones. The moments when he wasn't busy, and the moments when he wasn't plagued with the harsh realities of the world. His favorite moments, however, involved you.

You were kinder than anyone else he had ever met in his centuries of being alive, a true angel. You were his everything, the love of his life, so much so that he wondered how he had gone so long without you. When you were with him he didn't feel so distant from everyone else; he felt wanted.

You were curled up next to him on the couch, your arms wrapped around him as you leaned your head against his shoulder, simply enjoying his company while a television show neither of you were paying much attention to played in the background.

The one bad thing about these quiet moments was the rare opportunity for his mind to drift into places, or more so memories, that he'd rather not think about. He had fought with so many people throughout his life, some of which he had cherished. In the end, everyone left him, sooner or later, a distance soon growing. Were you the next one to leave...? What if you two had an argument one day, and you decided you couldn't stand being around him anymore? What if he—

"Arthur," your voice reached his ears, tone gentle and soft. Then, your hand came forward to cup his face, carefully turning his head towards you. "You're overthinking again, love." You frowned, making an observation. "Do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head.

"No. It's nothing we haven't already discussed." He replied, smiling at you sadly. "It's my own insecurities, nothing you need to worry about, dear." With this, your frown grew before you leaned in, kissing him lovingly.

"I love you," He muttered against your lips, emerald green eyes looking into yours with an adoration reserved only for you. "I love you so much." He meant it with every part of his being. Even with his fears, deep down, he knew you wouldn't abandon him, because you loved him with every part of your being, too.

Canada (Matthew Williams)

He was used to being forgotten. Always the quiet one, he was easily overlooked, even by those closest to him. Honestly, he didn't know how he managed to start dating you, or get you to notice he was there. To him, he wasn't anything special, just maple leaves and the friend of a bear who barely knew who he was. He didn't deserve you.

"Matthew," You smiled at him one morning over breakfast. "I've been practicing my French recently, thought it'd be useful, y'know? Can I speak to you a bit and get your feedback? I'm not too good at it yet..."

He nodded, returning your smile. You were so smart, so clever, so cute. You were always trying to learn new things, especially when it came to him and his nation. You never forget about him, you were so sweet, so unique, and he was just... himself.

"Hmm..." You hummed in faux contemplation, acting like you were trying to remember what you were going to say. You knew exactly what was on your mind. "Why don't I start with a pretty common phrase? Je t'iame." He blushed at your words. You told him that every day without fail, but hearing it in French felt different somehow, more meaningful in a way.

"Y-You said it excellently." He stuttered out, heart racing as you looked into his amethyst eyes, a gleam of admiration for him in your own.

"Ooh! Let me try out another phrase, then," You grinned, leaning forward slightly over the table. "These ones are a bit more complicated. Tu es l’amour de ma vie. Tu es mon âme sœur," the words poured out from your lips, the sound like music to his ears. You said it perfectly, how long had you been practicing? You must've put in a lot of effort...

"Woah!" You gasped, standing up from your seat at the sight of small tears welling up in his eyes. You rushed over to him, holding his face gently in your hands as your thumbs wiped away his tears. "I didn't mean to make you cry—"

He sniffled, standing up to wrap you in a tight embrace. "I don't deserve you," He whispered, voice shaky. He was happy, so happy. He loved you, and he'd never stop. "Je t’aime de tout mon cœur," he told you with love, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he did so. "I love you with all my heart," he clarified with a small chuckle after you shot him a confused look.

"How do I say that, but back to you?" You questioned, tilting your head slightly in curiosity. Adorable, you were beyond adorable. He chuckled again, answering you only but kissing you lovingly. He'd teach you soon enough, but for now, he was focused on expressing his love for you in ways that involved less French.

[daisyblog]

Terrible Nines

Too Young Masterlist Summary: Arthur is going through a testing time and pregnant YN doesn’t know what to do.

Based on this request.

YN had noticed that Arthur’s behaviour had slowly been declining and his sharp tongue had been making a regular appearance. In the last few weeks, Arthur had pushed another child over in school, answered his teacher back and got sent off the football pitch in one of his games for telling the referee “you’re shit”.

In England it was the beginning of the school summer holidays, so Arthur had six weeks off school and YN was looking forward to flying out to meet Louis in Spain to enjoy a few weeks of joining him at the festivals.

The first week of the school break Doris and Ernest had come up to London with Louis’ grandparents to visit YN and Arthur. The three young Tomlinsons had always been close and due to being so close in age, were more like siblings than auntie/uncle and nephew. But YN had noticed during their visit that Arthur wasn’t his usual self.

Whilst a heavily pregnant YN sat outside in the garden with Jen and Len joining her around the table, the three children played together enjoying the sunshine before they had to leave to travel back to Doncaster.

As the grownups chatted about the two new additions that were about to join their family, after finding out Lottie was also pregnant, a sound of disagreements filled their ears.

“Arthur that’s not kind!”. Ernest stood with his hands on his hips and a frown covering his eyebrows.

Arthur shrugged his shoulders as he continued to kick the football around the grass. “I don’t care…go cry about it!”.

“Arthur!” YN shouted with disappointment as she heard her son being unkind to the twins. “Be kind please!”.

Without his eyes leaving the ball as his foot constantly kicked it. “He’s just being a cry baby!”.

Jen and Len shared a surprised look at the way Arthur was behaving, knowing he was usually a delightful little boy.

“Arthur Harry Tomlinson! You go back inside right now and have time to think about your behaviour please!”. YN instructed as she sat in her seat aware of others around them.

“Oh this is a joke…it’s shit man!”. Arthur kicked the ball in temper before running into the house.

“Stop swearing!”. YN scolded again. Shaking her head slightly knowing she needed to speak to Louis about the language he’s using around Arthur.

---

Anne had travelled up to London to stay with Gemma to look after her little one whilst she recorded her audio book. So of course Harry, YN and Arthur went to spend the day with Grandma Anne.

The afternoon at Gemma’s had gone smoothly so far. Arthur had been playing calmly with his little cousin, helping to feed her, offering to read her a story, and had even cuddled her to sleep. YN loved watching this side of Arthur, the loving and caring side.

Whilst the little one napped in her cot, Anne and YN were enjoying a chat and catch up over a cup of tea and Harry and Arthur were playing a board game.

Arthur and Harry had a lovely uncle/nephew relationship, and not once has he ever shouted or misbehaved for Harry so when that day came, they were all shocked.

“Uncle Harry? Can I sleep over your house tonight please?”. Arthur sweetly asked, knowing that the answer was usually yes because Harry couldn’t say no to his big blue eyes.

When Harry looked torn knowing the answer was no tonight due to him having to go to a studio session, Arthur sensed he was about to hear no from his uncle for the first time.

“Sorry little man but I have to meet Mitch and Kid tonight but I promise you can sleep over when you come back from seeing your Dad…yeah?”. Harry tried to break the news gently, already feeling so guilty for saying no.

Hearing the word no, felt like a hit to the stomach for Arthur who threw the dice from the board game with force. “Oh that’s not fair!”.

“Arthur? What’s wrong?”. YN asked from the sudden outburst and the sound of the dice hitting the flooring.

“Just shut up Mum!”. Arthur shouted as he stood up and crossed his arms over his chest in protest.

“Hey! Don’t speak to your Mum like that!”. Harry was surprised at Arthur’s tantrum but at the same time he wasn’t going to allow him to shout at YN like that.

“I just want my Dad!”.

---

Bedtime at the Tomlinson/Styles household was far from calm and relaxing. When YN asked Arthur to go and have a shower, he defied her and continued to play on his game and said “you can’t tell me what to do”.

After a big back and forth conversation and persuading Arthur to go and have a shower, he finally did it. But the behaviour hadn’t ended there. When it came to Arthur going to bed, he continued to switch on the light and try to play his game again, to which YN had to walk up and down the stairs countless times, which at 33 weeks pregnant was not ideal.

Sitting down later in that evening, the emotions caught up with YN. The Mum guilt she felt was overwhelming, she blamed herself for Arthur’s behaviour at the moment. She was worried there was more to his behaviour than she realised because it was a form of communication.

Knowing what she had to do, she reached for her phone and tapped a few times before she reached the name she was searching for. 

After a few rings, the voice she had been waiting to hear answered. “Hey babe! Everything okay?”. 

“Hi Lou…not really…Arthur’s behaviour has been terrible lately”. YN could feel the tears start again.

“How bad are we talking?”. Louis’ voice was full of concern, knowing YN was heavily pregnant and didn’t need the extra stress.

“Bad Lou…he’s shouting, swearing, answering everyone back…he was even cheeky to Harry the other day”. YN tried to explain without going into too much detail. “I think he’s missing you Lou!”.

“I feel so guilty that work is so busy at the moment…I feel like I’m letting you both down”. The pain was clear in his voice.

YN rubbed her hand mindlessly over her growing bump, feeling their little baby moving around as she spoke. “It’s not your fault Lou…you’re just doing what every other parent is doing and working to provide for your family….its just your job is not a nine to five”.

“Right leave it with me and I’m going to sort something”. Louis spoke quickly. “I’ll phone you in a bit…I love you three with all my heart!”.

“We love you more!”.

---

YN hadn’t heard from Louis since their phonecall the night before, but she knew he was busy so didn’t think much of it.

It had been a calm morning with just YN and Arthur enjoying so breakfast together, before they got dressed and headed out for a quiet walk together around the park.

When they arrived back home after their walk, they were both laughing together as they walked through the front door, which was something YN really needed lately. But what stopped the two in their steps was Louis standing in the hallway, a large cheeky grin covering his face.

“Dad!”. Arthur’s feet ran across the floor before he jumped into his father’s arms. “You’re home!”.

“Oh I’ve missed you lad!”. Louis squeezed Arthur close to him, not wanting the hug to end. “I’ve missed you so much”.

“How? Wait! How are you home?”. YN couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She wasn’t expecting to see Louis until they flew out to Spain in a few days.

“My family needs me”: Louis shrugged his shoulders as if it was obvious. “So I’ve come to get my three favourite people and take them back to Spain with me”.

“This is why I love you!”. YN quickly joined them in a much needed family cuddle.

---

With the pregnancy tiredness taking over YN, Louis decided to use this moment to have a much needed conversation with Arthur.

“Hey little lad”. Louis joined Arthur on the sofa, his arm leaving across the back of it. “I’ve heard you haven’t been yourself when I’ve been away”.

Arthur didn’t move his eyes away from the tv or say a word, knowing this conversation was about to happen. When Louis realised his son wasn’t going to say anything yet, he continued.

“I’m thinking something is bothering you and when you’re ready to talk about it…me and Mum are here okay?”. Louis had always been logical when it came to these types of situations, he had been an older brother so he was used to it.

“Mason in school said that when Mum has the baby that nobody would want me anymore”. Arthur words hurt Louis deeply and he was glad that YN hadn’t been awake to hear them.

“Arthur…I can promise you that…that would never happen”. He began to reassure the younger boy. “We would always want you, always love you and if anything we would love you more if we could because we’re about to see you become the best big brother and I can’t wait”.

“I’m really sorry for not being kind or good lately”. Arthur wore a guilty expression as he glanced up at his father.

“I know you are lad…do me a favour when your Mum wakes up…give her a big cuddle because she really needs it right now”.

Arthur nodded, a small smile began to show on his lips. “She really is the best Mum…you’re the best Dad too…me and the baby are so lucky!”,

“We’re the lucky ones!”.

Taglist :@jillsvalentinex @itsmytimetoodream @peterholland04 @youcan-nolonger-run @chronicallybubbly @macy-tpwk @wh0s-nadii