#But sue a man he wants to be swept off his feet

[mirellapryce]

Okay but I was thinking about this earlier. Just laughingly imagining Charles saying, "I want to be wooed. I want you, Edwin Payne, to woo me."

Today's question:

If Edwin wanted to court someone, how would he go about it? 💞

Please use the tag "dead boy detectives" when you reblog to reply.

[xhoneygirlxx]

We’re Not Friends

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: Eddie is just trying to help when he offers to be your date to your sister's wedding, but with all the love in the air will you and Eddie be able to stay friends?

warnings: lots of angst. reader's family sucks. reader's mom makes a comment about her weight. anxiety attacks. reader has low self esteem. fluff. best friends to lovers. fake dating. modern au. (this is titled after an Ed Sheeran song and I also use another one of his songs in the fic, sue me). slight smut. allusions to sex. alcohol consumption. swearing. minors dni!!!!!!!!!! reader and Eddie are both in their 20's. no y/n used, reader is referred to as Birdie. skin color/ethnicity/body type is not mentioned. spelling errors/shitting writing, just pretend you don't notice lmao. also the venue is completely made up and so is the location if you couldn’t tell, im not that creative.

*if I miss anything plz lmk*

a/n: hi my loves!!!! this is one of the last fics on my birthday fic list!!! I want to thank all of you for being patient and being so so supportive of my work. I love you all so much!!! also I do go back to work on Monday so I'm going to try to get as many fics pumped out by the end of the weekend.

And that's why friends should sleep in other beds

And friends shouldn't kiss me like you do

And I know that there's a limit to everything

But my friends won't love me like you do

The turning color of the leaves create the prettiest backdrop, tall trees blooming with orange, red, and a pinch of brown. The ones that have already fallen to the ground get swept up under the wheels of Eddie's car, lifting up and swirling around in a pretty dance, and falling right back into place waiting for the next car.

Although the crisp fall morning is peaceful you can't help but feel like you're living a nightmare. As he soft hum of Eddie's playlist flows through the speakers, you're coming up with a plan to turn the whole car around.

So far you thought about faking an illness, one that would stop the whole journey in it's tracks, only to dismiss it because you couldn't put your best friend through that stress. The idea of pulling the steering wheel also came to mind but you quickly threw that out of the window, not wanting to cause injury to the innocent man next to you or anyone else. Your final idea was one you're sure you could pull off as long as you used all the power within your being. If you pushed your feet on the floorboard hard enough, you could poke them out like the Flintstones and stop the car that way.

Between science and logic, you knew that wasn't possible no matter how hard you wished it would. Instead you'll stare out the window, watching all the pretty trees dance in the wind while you push down the rising anxiety that's forming in the pit of your stomach.

"You good over there, Birdie?" The deep voice next to you shakes you from your thoughts.

Turning your head Eddie's already looking at you with a lopsided grin. His demeanor matches the landscape outside, relaxed and serene. As you look at him you wish you could trade places, be as pleasant as he is.

"Yeah I'm just tired." Trying to sell him your answer, you smile lazily at him even though your response holds more tension than a game of tug of war.

Turning his attention back on the road, you watch as the pavement moves on the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Eddie looks pretty like this, even though you always thinks he looks pretty. Usually he would be a grump having to be up this early, but today he wears his smile like a badge of honor. The dark curls of his hair cascade down his back, while some falls over his shoulders.

He's wearing the same red and black checkered flannel he always does this time of year, the same one you said was your favorite three years ago and it still holds that title. Underneath is a plain black tee shirt, the only one he has that's free of any band name, and a dark blue pair of jeans that have no holes.

He's still the same Eddie, his rings still sit on his fingers and his pick still hangs from the chain around his neck, but it seems that he only gets prettier and prettier as time passes by - like the turning leaves that still hang on the branches of the trees that you drive by.

"I think you're worried about this whole wedding thing," His voice is unwavering, screaming "I'm right" like it always does. "I don't get what's so bad about an open bar and free food."

Although his point is valid, Eddie couldn't be more wrong than that. This wasn't just an event to get drunk for free and stuffed to the gills at no charge. This was your older sister's wedding, the same sister that was the apple of your parents' eyes. Veronica was your arch nemesis since birth, a rival that you had no option but to defeat in order to survive.

You were the outcast of the family, the black sheep if you will, and you had to endure eighteen years of nonstop torture because of it. Your parents, Christine and Tim, were nothing but successful. The doctor and his trophy wife, the star couple in your small community, that had two beautiful and healthy children.

However you were the hardheaded child, the daughter that didn't have a bright future, you didn't carry as much promise as Vee, and your parents made sure to remind you of that every day. So when you moved out three years ago, you made sure to distance yourself as much as you could. But when you received a pristine white envelope with a glamorous invite on the inside, you were roped right back into the hell hole you worked so hard to leave behind.

You could've just ignore it, faked that you were on a trip and couldn't make it but your mother pretty much threatened you into showing up. So that's how you ended up in the countryside right outside of Chicago, driving in Eddie's Toyota Corolla to the Jefferson Manner on a Friday at eight am.

"You're right, Eddie, I should be so thrilled by that. Thank you so much for pointing it out to me." It's snippy with a hint of malice, and your eye roll held enough venom to injure an army of men.

Whistling loudly, Eddie chuckles lightly. "Woah, killer. Relax, I was just tryna help." He's still soft despite your outburst, sweet like your pumpkin spice latte that sits in the cupholder.

Hanging your head, you inhale a deep breath and release it slowly. "I'm sorry, Eds. I just really fucking hate my family."

He switches his attention from you and the road, taking in your saddened features. Reaching his right hand over the console, he places his hand searches for yours and laces his fingers through yours, which you gladly except.

"Don't apologize for that, kay? That's a valid reason for you to not want to go, I was just trying to make you laugh." The sincerity in his voice wraps around you, easing the nerves that go haywire in your body.

His palm is warm like the coffee cups that sit in the cup holders, his voice is as calming as the trees in the wind, and his smile is just as pretty as it was the first day you met him. You're safe with him, the safest you've ever been in your life, and here in the front seat of his car he reminds you of that.

"They just make me crazy, s'why I don't like seeing them." You feel shy being vulnerable, refusing to meet his gaze by focusing on tracing the back of his hand with your free one.

Eddie doesn't mind, instead he reassures you with a quick squeeze of your hand. "If it makes you feel any better, Birdie, I like you a little crazy."

Dimples deep as the sea and smile still as delicate as a flower's pedal, Eddie looks like a painting that hangs in the Louvre. You want to capture this moment of him to have for the rest of your life, so no matter what you can always remember him just like this.

"You say that now." You tease and he eats it right up.

Looking back over to you, he shines his smile onto you, filling you up with the light of a million stars. "And I'll say it till the end of time." There's no tease to it, nothing but truth in the way he says it.

It turns you into jelly, the feelings that swim through your blood stream, and now you've become too sheepish to answer. You decided to trust your touch over your words, squeezing his hand the same way he did to yours, trying your best to communicate the feelings you hold secretly in your heart for your best friend.

The cobblestone driveway leading to the entrance of Jefferson Manner is, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. It is a straight drive to the property, but once you get closer, a large fountain sits in the middle where the arch of the circle driveway starts.

Different colored cars are already lined up, some you recognize and the rest you have no clue who they belong to. Either way it's pretty evident that Eddie 2018 Toyota sticks out like a sore thumb.

The same dread that you left 45 miles back, is now running through you again. Unintentionally, you squeeze his hand harder as your heart begins to pound in your ear and if it hurts him he doesn't mention it. Instead, Eddie gives you one, two, three squeezes and then lets you continue your attempt to stop the blood flow to his hand.

Pulling behind the Mercedes Benz S Class, he puts his car into park and then shuts the car off. Reading your expression the way he always does, he sits in the silence of the car with you until your features loosen up.

"You okay, Birdie?" Even though he knows you're not okay, you still appreciate him asking anyway.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself a few times, eyes clamped shut as you focus on your breathing pattern. Once your head is above water and your heart stops racing, you open your eyes back up to the real world.

Relaxing your shoulders, you let go of the grip you're holding Eddie's hand in. "I'm okay. I'll be okay." Despite answering him, it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of what you're saying.

Another brief pause goes by and Eddie continues to monitor you, sunglasses now removed so not only can he see you but you can see him.

Your gaze is unwavering, the thousand yard stare has fallen over you and you have yet to dig out of it. "Are you prepared for what we're about to walk into?"

The tone of your voice scares Eddie, the emotion being sucked right out of the words that you speak despite the feelings that battle in your mind that he doesn't know about.

"Honey, I'm prepared for anything as long as I have you." For a split second he winces, wondering if that was too cringy but when your face breaks out into a sweet smile he feels better.

The two of you get out of the car, retrieving your suitcases and dress bags from the trunk. When the door shuts you begin to count the steps it takes to get to the big wooden doors of the mansion.

You don't have to ask Eddie for his hand, he's already giving it to you and you gladly except it, gripping on for dear life the closer you get. Despite the beautiful landscape and the soothing sound of the running fountain, you feel like this is the soundtrack that plays before your imminent death.

The tall, thick, wooden doors sit menacingly in front of you, the skeletons of your past standing just right behind it waiting for your arrival. The ghosts that have haunted your dreams, the graveyard of your history, and the phantoms of your family, mingle and laugh right behind this door.

Eddie waits for you, not moving a muscle until you say so, and you silently thank him with a smile. Like a switch, he watches your face change from flight to fight mode. In a flash your looking over your outfit, brushing down the long black sleeved shirt that sits on your torso, and then straightening out the jeans that stick to your legs.

Your hair is the next thing you frantically fix, pushing it behind your ears and out of your face, letting it fall over your shoulders while doing so. Like a buzzing bee, you zone in on Eddie, fixing the collar of his flannel and then smoothing the material of his shirt. With out speaking, you pick off a singular piece of fuzz from his pants and then let it blow away in the wind.

Moving your hands back up to his chest, you center the pick on his chain. Then move his hair, fixing the ringlets that got blown around in the breeze. Once your satisfied, you move back to your spot next to him and sweep his hand right back into your hold. Releasing on more deep breath, you settle your pinched eyebrows and your determined eyes, and let the worst fake smile settle onto your lips.

The smile doesn't reach your eyes the way it usually does, your teeth push against one another so forcibly Eddie wonders if you'll shatter teeth, and you simply look like your in pain. Either way, you push open the big oak door and let yourself inside with him following right behind.

The lobby of the manner is everything you expected, high ceilings, a crystal chandelier, and every single family member of yours gathered around sipping champagne and speaking to each other like a potential client.

Even though it's magnificent inside with the beautiful décor and lively plants, the sight of everyone in their gaudy outfits and cheap laughter makes it feel like an eternal hell.

Eddie must feel the way your shoulders tense because he's quickly leaning into you, his voice just a whisper in the shell of your ear.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. You have me and I won't let anything happen." He reminds you, his smile is more sympathetic than anything.

Nodding your head you remain smiling, it's awful and it hurts even doing it but if you want to survive the whirlpool of piranhas, then you just have to fake it until you make it.

"If it isn't our lovely Birdie!" The sound of your mother's voice is like silk, smooth and confident, just like she always was. Walking over to you, she holds a champagne flute in her hand and you wonder how much the bubbling spritz cost your father.

The last time you've seen her was last winter, her million dollar smile outshining the Swarovski crystal tree decorations that sit behind her. Your mother has always been beautiful but her insides are rotten, ugly and maggot infested, all hidden behind the mask that she put on for everyone to see.

You gave up a long time ago trying to figure out her brain, finally accepting defeat to the maze that was her mind. Now when you look at your mother all you see is a shell, a hallow covering that has nothing to offer you other than it's pretty design.

Pulling you into a hug, you're hit with her scent. She smells like Dior and cashmere, the Chanel outfit that sits on her body scratches your skin, and the pearl necklace she wears jabs you right in your collarbone.

"Hello mother, thank you for inviting me to such a wonder occasion." You instantly revert back to your old accent, the same one your mother instilled into you from the time you could even under stand the English language.

A faux laugh comes from her bright red lips, "No need for that, darling, you're always welcome." Her manicured hand waves at you in fake genuineness.

The smile on your face continues to show and you hate to think it matches hers. Even with the sweet tone you use and the gentleness of your actions, the blood that runs through your body continues to boil the longer she stands there.

Eddie on the other hand stands next to you completely and utterly amused by your fake performance. The snort he lets out when you continue to use your "eloquent" voice is quickly covered up by a sniffle.

Like a vulture, your mother's eyes are quick to zero in on the curly haired man next to you. "Excuse my daughter for her bad manner of not introducing us, I'm Christine."

The minute her hand reaches out for a handshake, you're heart stops. This is the one thing that could make or break this whole trip and it was the only thing you didn't prepare your best friend for. Many years of your life, you were trained that a handshake is all it takes for someone to learn about you.

Without skipping a beat, Eddie simply picks embraces her hand like a prince out of a Disney movie and places a kiss to the back of her unwrinkled hand.

"What a pleasure to meet you, Christine, I'm Eddie. And might I say how beautiful you are."

He's all dimples and doe eyes staring at your mother, a true prince charming in his red flannel and jeans. His voice is like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, it's smooth going down your throat and it warms your belly better than any blanket can.

That warmth is now tingling your body, a frenzy of butterflies flapping around in the walls of your heart. It clearly works on your mother as well but unlike you she doesn't hide it very well.

"You're really the charmer, Eddie." It's flirtatious and alluring, the same voice she put on for every pool boy your father ever hired.

Annoyance and anger floods through you and you know that your eyes would be shining green to anyone with a trained eye.

While she clutches her pearls and eyes Eddie like he's a four course meal, you intervene into the conversation before it can continue.

"Where's daddy? I'd really like for my boyfriend to meet him." You bat your eyelashes like a pageant queen and your arm acts like a python wrapping around Eddie's, making a mark on what is yours.

"Oh you're father's around here somewhere, you know how he is." She dismisses, taking a drink from her glass and swallowing down the golden liquid quickly. "So how long have you and Birdie here been dating?"

"It's going to be two years next month. Isn't that right, honey?" Eddie turns to you and gives you a playful smile.

Looking back at him you hope he can see the misery that hides being your eyes, a white flag of surrender.

Your mother on the other hand doesn't care about your answer, that's why she didn't ask you. She's reading Eddie, trying to see how much she can push your so called boyfriend until she gets what she wants.

"Well that's just wonderful, young love is a beautiful experience. You have to be careful with Birdie here, she's known to leave the nest quickly." It's a jab, a spiteful and mean comment headed right for your gut.

Eddie doesn't miss the way you're lips falter for a second, the flash of hurt in your eyes. It kills him watching you stand there and take all the comments from your mother like stray bullets.

Turning his attention back to your mother, he gives her a smile, one that you would know as a wicked one but to a stranger would seem kind. "I don't think that will be a problem. Birdie knows where her home is."

It's a direct warning, a clear sign to your mother to not mess with you or what is yours. Just him sticking up for you like that makes your stomach twist in excitement, a feeling you've grown so used to over the course of friendship with Eddie.

"Well, I'm glad she finally found her place then." Your mother responds coldly, clearly hearing the bite in his tone. "Why don't you two go find your room and get settled in, rehearsal dinner is in a few."

Before retreating into the large crowd of family, your mother turns back to you in one more attack.

"Oh and Birdie, wear something that will hide that stomach. Don't want anyone to assume you've been knocked up."

Once you've found your room, you all but rush Eddie inside slamming the door behind you. In the quiet safety of your suite, you can relax your shoulders that have been sitting high since you've arrive.

"Jesus Bird, you weren't lying." Eddie says as he flops himself on the queen sized bed.

You don't respond, instead you squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm the heaviness of your breathing. Behind the darkness of your eyes, little twinkles of stars flash from how hard you have them closed, the swooshing of your heart continuing in your ears like angry waves of the sea.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself over and over again, trying to erase the cruel words of your mother and the images of disgusted family member's faces out of your mind. You're not sure how long you've been standing by the door until a hand grasps at your wrist lightly.

"Birdie," Eddie's coax goes unanswered, "Come on, Birdie."

Warm calloused hands travel to the plump of your cheeks, lifting your face up just enough that he can see you. Finally opening your eyes, you're relieved to be looking into the golden whiskey pools of his.

Smoothing his thumb over your cheek he doesn't say anything, just lets your breathing calm down. Here you are, in the nice room behind the shelter of the locked door, and he's here.

Breathe in. It's okay. Breathe out. You're safe. Breathe in. You are here. Breathe out. So is he.

It's enough to let your feet move on the plush white carpeting, while Eddie leads you to the bed with the tug of your arm. Sitting on the plush mattress on crisp linen sheets you're grounded, and with the heat of Eddie sitting next to you and his hand in yours, you're anchored.

The rehearsal dinner goes over well enough, the Irish mule helping with every single speech that's given and every horror story of your childhood that is told. Luckily for you, Vee didn't ask you to be in her bridal party so you didn't have to attend the actual wedding rehearsal, and even better you won't have to deal with her for the real thing tomorrow.

Eddie does great at dinner, he talks to your father who surprisingly likes him, both getting along over their love for vintage cars. Your soon to be brother in law and his groomsmen also get along with Eddie, they laugh and cut up most of the time while clinking beer bottles together. Not to mention every single woman there wanted to get into his pants, swooning at everything he said and giving him the 'fuck me' eyes while doing it.

You hated it, every single minute of it. Like always you were ignored, simply looked over until some story was being told where you were ultimately the joke of. Any time someone asked you what you were doing with your life, you were met with cringing smiles and snickering laughs.

Four separate times your mother commented on your dress, the way it fit, the price value of it, and how it really wasn't a good color on you. All of your sisters friends rolled their eyes and whispered back and forth while staring at you, aunts and uncles acted dumbfounded when you told them that you were a freelance writer for a small music magazine back in Indy, and your cousins made comments about how badly you look since the last time you saw them.

It didn't matter anyway, even if your sister asked how you managed to get a stand up guy like Eddie to agree to be with you, in front of all of the guests. You had to remind yourself that you were there for the free booze and food or whatever the hell Eddie said in the car on the way here.

This wasn't a popularity contest for you, it was simply you being forced to do something against your wishes because your mother said so. You asked yourself why you even listened to her in the first place while letting the brown liquor burn in your stomach.

Why was it so important that you even showed up here? Why did you have to come to the awarding ceremony of favorite kid when you knew you weren't going to win? Why would you even set yourself up for such failure just because your mom said so?

Well, you're answer came when a flushed faced Eddie was laughing with your grandparents at one of the round tables in the corner. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his head was leaned back so you had a clear view of the neck you loved so much.

Then you looked over at your sweet looking grandparents who laughed loudly at whatever was said. Your grandmother had her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head back and forth, and beaming brightly. Your grandfather smiled around his cigar, big round belly jumping with laugher, and his cheeks smooshing up against the frames of his big glasses.

You didn't come here to win a competition. You didn't come here because your mother threatened you within an inch of your life if you didn't. You didn't come here because you thought it would be fun.

You showed up because you wanted to prove to the people who doubted you for so long just how happy you were. You wanted to prove that happiness doesn't come from the amount of money in your account or how many rooms sit in your house. You came here because you wanted to prove that they were wrong, that the grass on the other side of the fence could be green too, and that someone who grew up differently that you could still do amazing things.

Eddie was someone that your father would've had you kicked out over bringing him home in high school. Eddie was the boy your mother would tell you to stay far away from. Eddie was the kind of guy that your sister wouldn't look twice at because of who he was.

But right now, during the beautiful dinner the night before your sister's wedding, your best friend/fake boyfriend has them all wrapped around his guitar calloused finger.

-

Not much has been said between you and him, especially when he was the man of the hour. You're not really complaining though, you're happy that he made a good impression with them. When the night began to settle into your bones and the alcohol started to make you tipsy, you slyly walked up to Eddie and tugged on his sleeve to let him know it was time to go.

On the walk back to the room, you sway slightly with every step you take, balancing on the walls with one hand while the other holds your strappy heels. When Eddie stops and turns to the door of your room, you all but smack into him with clumsy steps.

While he fumbles with key, you're in blissful content with your eyes closed. The kick of the lock and the turn of the handle doesn't even pull you out of your daze, instead you hold your arms out like a mummy and feel around until you find Eddie's clothed back.

You can tell Eddie is laughing by the large breath that passes through his nose and the tell tale sign of him kissing his teeth. Large hands wrap around your wrists, guiding you into the doorway that you can't see.

Your cheeks are warm, the smile on your face is permanent, and the buzzing in your heart makes you feel light on your feet.

"Alright mummy, lets get you into bed." Letting go of his hold on you, you feel him slightly brush past you to close the door. His voice sounds like the way stars look, sparkling and bright, twinkling all around.

You giggle, eyes still shut and your nose scrunched up. "M'not a mummy but I could be if ya want."

Putting your arms out, you lean back and forth on your feet to mimicking what you think is a mummy but looks more like a zombie.

"Baaaaahhhhh, I'm a mummy. Be very afraid." You deepen your voice, dragging the syllables of every word to make them come out slower.

Eddie must be entertained because the sound of a loud raspberry comes from where he stands, the clear sign of him losing the grip on the laugh he'd been holding in.

Cracking one of your eyes open, you hope to find him with rose cheeks and dimples flashing, the look you love so much. Instead you see him, beaming at you without the shine of his canines. It's an admiring smile, one where your eyes go all gooey and your smile is simple yet dipped with so much love.

Opening your eyes all the way, you let your arms down slowly to rest by your sides, a meek look painting your face.

"Did I do good?" You ask, even though you didn't really want his opinion.

"I think you're perfect." It comes out even, smooth like the hilltops in December covered in a layer of the purest snow.

The two of you sit there for a while, soaking up the glow of each other and letting it sink into your souls. For a moment you wonder if he feels it too, the spark that you feel whenever he's around. You wonder if he feels like crying simply because he loves you that much. You wonder if he wishes this whole dating thing wasn't just a lie and that it was true, the same way you wish it was.

Once the moment ends for him, he's clearing his throat to clear any lovesick daze that's left. "I guess we better head to bed, huh?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, you try with everything in your power to not look down where his turtle neck rode up, where the patch of mouth watering hair trails from his belly button to underneath the waist of his pants.

A part of you wishes you stuck it out longer, stayed in your seat at the dinner table just to see him in his outfit longer. He asked you to help him pick it out this morning and when you think back to it, you get flustered with thinking how domesticated it felt. Making him try on different shirts and jumping for joy when he walked out of the bathroom wearing a turtleneck he swore he'd never wear. The khakis you pulled out of his suitcase was the cause of so much laughter and the pink tinge that sat on the rounds of his cheeks.

God, he looked so good, especially with his hair pulled back and the dangled earring that sat in his ear, but now it would all be a memory for you to file away in the back of your brain.

Eddie had already started taking off his dress shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed bent over and messing with the knots that kept the laces together.

The smile that once held your lips high and proud, now weigh down in a sad frown. Even after the success of the dinner and proving everyone wrong, you are now brought back to the reality of what you and Eddie were. Just friends.

"Since I'm a gentleman and I can't see to get these shoes untied, I'll let you shower first." His voice comes out strained from how hard he pulls on the knotted strings.

You don't say anything, quietly nodding your head before shuffling over to your suitcase that sits by the closet. Grabbing a sleepshirt and some shorts, you go to move around the lanky man that can't get his shoes off no matter how hard he tries.

Without a sound, you kneel in front of him, placing your clothes somewhere off to the side. Taking his calf in your hand, you place his foot on your thigh. Delicately, you remove the first shoe and then the next.

"Y'didn't have to do that." It's quiet but not enough to be a whisper, still you shrug.

"I didn't but I wanted to." It seems so simple when you say it, even though deep down inside you wanted that last piece of your fantasy before it goes away for the rest of the night.

"Will you help me with my dress?" You ask him, standing on your feet and turning so that the golden zipper is facing him.

In the mirrored closet door you can see him and how he hesitates for a moment, shaky hands lingering in the air before they close in on the gold slider.

The sound of the metal teeth unlatching from one another fills the room, clouding the unrhythmic beat of your heart. You try to remember the feeling of him on the sacred part of your skin, the way his light touch tickles you and makes goosebumps rise. You want to memorize it like your favorite song, so that when you leave this place and the fake nature of this whole thing goes away, you still have something to think about on those bad days.

It ends too soon for your liking, his hands retracting right back to the sides of his body like a measuring tape. With the fuzz of your tipsy has now wore off but the sting of everything still remains.

Giving him a small smile and muttering a thank you, you hide in the bathroom where the sound of running water hides the muffled cries that leave your throat.

Waking up felt more painful than any hangover you've ever had. The pain of Eddie's bare back facing you was heartbreaking. You force yourself not connect the freckles that litter his skin or trace your fingers along his spine and shoulder blades.

It's a sight you've seen plenty of times and sharing a bed is something you've done more than enough that you're not uncomfortable. Yet your heart squeezes, wrapping itself up in the tightest loop so that it hurts to even breathe.

The sound of his soft snores only makes it worse, imagining what he dreams about and if it's you.

You use all of the willpower that's left in your body, marching over to the small kitchenette that sits in the corner of the giant room. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you try to focus on the swirl of dark liquid mixing with the coffee creamer and how they mix together so perfectly. Without much of a peep, you slide the glass doors that lead out to the balcony and sit down in one of the plush chairs.

You look out over the mountains of colors, tracing over the lines of trees that go on for miles. Although pretentious, you think Veronica did an excellent job and choosing this location.

Sipping on the hot beverage, you watch the clouds in the blue sky go by, wondering what it would've been like if your sister asked you to be a bridesmaid. You imagine that the two of you would've actually gotten along and maybe even laughed together. You envision what it would've been like to have your mother compliment you in your gown and how it would feel to take a picture with your family where all the smiles were real.

Tears begin to burn the back of your eyes, falling rapidly like a fall rainstorm. The skin of your cheeks burn slightly from the heated trails of water that fall. You're sad and incredibly so. Within the first twenty four hours of being here, you remember how much of an outsider you really are to these people.

Even with the company of Eddie, someone that truly loves you, you still can't help but feel so fucking lonely. To put on the mask you wore for many year back on and pretend that the man standing next to you is yours to claim is harder than any other time you had to do it.

This time you weren't really faking it, the love that you showed to him, the happiness you felt with him was real, just the titles weren't. With the cool fall chill, your coffee has gone cold but your tears keep coming.

"You made yourself a cup of coffee but not one for me, and this is how I find out? That's just mean." Eddie's curly hair pokes out from the small gap in the sliding back door that he's created.

His eyes are squinted from the harshness of the morning sun but his cheeky smile is forever unwavering. Sliding a space big enough for him to go through, he stalks out onto the small space in his plaid pajama pants and a hoodie he must've thrown on.

Trying your best to cover up that you've been crying, you wipe the back of your hand across your cheeks, but Eddie still catches your movements.

Instead of embarrassing you, he sits down in the chair across from you and looks out over the balcony.

"You okay?" It's a simple enough question, one that you can answer with one word and he wouldn't pry for more information to not overwhelm you.

Sniffling, you shake your head yes and then move your gaze to where his is. "No, yeah, m'good. The view really does something for me." You say, chuckling just a bit at your own joke.

Eddie also laughs, only this time it's not as genuine as it usually is, just a hard exhale through his nose.

"Yeah, sure does." He agrees, letting his eyes follow the red and orange of the tree tops.

A calm silence falls over you two, only the sounds of the birds that fly and the ruffle of the leaves can be heard from where you sit. It's peaceful.

"You know, I really thought this weekend would be different." It comes out of your mouth as easy as the breeze that blows. Still your eyes stay trained out in front of you and past the mountains of trees.

Eddie doesn't respond but the hole that he burns through the side of your head with his eyes tell you he's listening.

"When I was little, I used to imagine the day Vee got married. I would fantasize that maybe one day we could be close enough that I could enjoy this day with her and we could be sisters for once." You exhale an uneven breath, moving your sights to the cup that still sits in your hand.

"I just wanted all of us to be a family for once. I wanted my mom to actually act like she liked me, for my dad to say that for once he was proud of who I was, and for Veronica, I just wanted her to say she's happy that I'm her little sister."

Just like that, every single thing you've carried since you were little is now out in the open, whipping around in the wind like the dead leaves. Even with the amount of burden that's been lifted, the pain still remains the same. It all hurts, stabbing you over and over again in the scars that you worked so hard to patch up.

Eddie doesn't say anything and for a moment you don't think he'll say anything at all. You watch him pull out the pack of cigarettes he had nestled in his pocket and place one in between his pretty pink lips.

Another second goes by and he's flicking the wheel of his lighter, shielding the flame away from the wind so he can light it. When the end of the smoke burns red, he takes a big inhale and then lets the cloud of smoke out.

"I know what I say won't matter," He starts before taking another drag of his smoke, "But these people don't fucking mean anything."

"They're you're family and I get that but they don't fucking deserve you, they never have. A fake boyfriend, a new haircut, or a cool job shouldn't define their love for you. They're shitty people who were blessed with an amazing person and they didn't even realize it."

Eddie looks at you the same way he speaks, with nothing but truth. You let the words settle in your mind, letting them soak in, in case you forget.

The tears that once ceased start to flow again, except this time it's from relief. It feels good that someone else sees your worth, to know someone actually holds value to you.

"It kills me that they treat you the way they do, that they can say all those things without batting an eye. I know why you asked me to come here and I know I have a job to do, but man do I want to rip them all a new asshole."

Although he speaks with fire behind the words, you have to laugh from the thought of the actions. The moment you giggle, his own smile forms.

"I hope you know that I love you and when everything is done and over with, we'll give them the bird." To make his point, Eddie raises his middle finger high into the sky.

Repeating his actions, you hold your own finger to the sky and smile happily while doing it.

Letting his arm fall back down into place, he pats the tops of your thighs and stands from the chair.

"That's my girl, now let's get ready for an open bar and free booze." Holding his open palm to you, he helps you up.

The wedding reception was what you thought it would be, drawn out and boring. The only saving grace of the whole thing was Eddie's commentary, the scruff on his face tickling you every time he leaned close to your ear.

A lot of the things he was saying was probably just to make you feel better but you did have to agree, the dress Veronica picked out was a bad rip off of Princess Diana's and it shouldn't have seen broad daylight.

You did however get choked up when the vowels started, not because you were happy with your sister but because you wish that were you and Eddie up there instead.

All and all it was okay, even though one of your brother in law's aunt's wore a hat so big you couldn't see past it most of the time.

The wedding reception though was beautiful. The décor of the manner looked exquisite against the maroon coloring of all the bridesmaids dresses. The tables had beautiful bouquets sitting in the middle and you can't help but laugh imagining your father cutting a check for all of them.

To much of yours and Eddie's delight, there is an open bar that is stacked high with pricey alcohol. Again you laugh thinking about your father having to pay the tab, which you and Eddie will be happy to run up.

So far this is the most the two of you had fun, both laughing and enjoying the company that's around you. The table you've been stuck at is also occupied by other family rejects that enjoy the titles they've been given.

Eddie's hand hasn't left your thigh, which you're more than happy about, and every so often he flexes his fingers squeezing the meaty flesh.

You feel good, the boost from the drinks and the feeling of your best friend makes you bloom like a flower in the spring. You watch as he talks to the people at your table and how his hand moves with enthusiasm. You trace the muscles in his neck and watch his adam's apple bob up and down when he speaks. Your chin sits in the palm of your hand as you watch him be himself like he always is.

He's so beautiful, he always has been, and in this moment he gets to be yours. You don't have to think about what anyone else thinks, you don't have to question how the two of you look from another's perception, because you know that your heart bleeds for him and it always will.

Eddie's your home, he's your best friend, and he's your person. You think back to what he said to you this morning and how he called you a blessing but you think he's wrong. Eddie is the true blessing. He's sweet, he's smart, and he's so fucking caring it's disgusting. Behind all the jagged features and dark clothes, he's nothing but a giant teddy bear that wears his heart on his sleeve.

"Birdie." He smiles at you, all goo and mush it makes your heart skip.

You hum in response, still sitting in the same position, looking at him as if he were a painting.

"You wanna dance?" He blushes, embarrassed by the request and you feel like you're back in junior high.

"You, Eddie Munson hate dancing." You say, scrunching your nose cutely.

Laughing loudly, he nods, "Yeah, I know, but I'd dance with you."

That breaks you out of your daze, breath catching in your throat. "O-oh, yeah. I'll um dance."

Again he stands, holding a palm out to you so he can help you up. Leaning you to the dance floor, you can't help but feel jittery despite the wine that you've consumed.

Once out on the floor, he pulls you into his chest. Strong hands grip your waist through the silk fabric of your red dress and you desperately try to fight the need that rises in your guy.

You stand stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself and Eddie's quick to help you, placing your hands around his neck where they lay contently.

He looks good tonight, even better than last night, and you hate how it makes butterflies flap around in your stomach. The black button up shirt sits nicely on his torso, wrapping his arms so deliciously you want to take a bite out of them. The black slacks he wears fit nicely and you wonder if he had them tailored and you have to ignore the want to undo the sleek black belt with a bright golden buckle that holds them up. Again his hair sits in a low bun and that silver chain peeks out at you from underneath his collar.

"I can't believe you asked me to dance to Ed Sheeran." You say breathlessly, still nervous with being this close to him.

Eddie snorts, lopsided smile forming on his lips. "What, a guy can't like Ed Sheeran and metal? That's gatekeeping, sweetheart." He teases.

Rolling your eyes, you try to ignore that tingle that settles in your cheeks. "Whatever you say, Munson."

"I'm serious, Thinking Out Loud was in my top ten last year." The two of you hold eye contact until you can't take it anymore, both bursting into laughter at his admission.

"That's something you shouldn’t repeat." You sputter at him and he laughs even harder.

"Hey, I like this song, okay?" He defends, still swaying back and forth with you.

Raising your hands in defense, you pull back on your clowning for the sake of your friend. Placing your arms back around his neck, you lean your head on his chest and try to hear the beat of his heart.

The scent of him floods your nose, cologne and smoke, whiskey and linen, and you wish you could bottle it to keep forever.

"Why do you like this song anyway? It's kind of basic." You mutter at him.

His shoulders lift in a shrug, and he takes a moment to respond. "Honestly, I like it cause it reminds me of you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you remove your head to look up at him.

"Wha'do you mean?" You mumble, eyes searching his for some sort of answer.

Looking bashful again, red tints his cheeks and ears in a blush. Sticking his tongue out to wet his lips, he hesitantly answers.

"I always felt like he said everything I couldn't, ya know? Everything I ever wanted to say to you, he put in a song."

It feels like the whole world stops, that time freezes and it's just the two of you. You're in shock and for some reason you can't wrap your head around anything he's saying.

"What?" You say harshly and again he shrugs, shying away from your burning focus on him.

"Reminds me of you and everything I ever felt about you. I always wanted to call you mine but if you hadn't noticed, I'm a chicken shit."

You don't say anything, instead you stare at him with your mouth wide open. Eddie starts to loose his cool, frantically flexing his fingers against the material of your dress, looking around at anything but you.

"Sorry, I - shit, I really fucked this up," He doesn't get to finish his sputtering apology because you quickly smash your lips into his.

His lips taste like brown liquor and chapstick, like love and forever, and you can't believe you waited this long to experience it. Two heart sync as one, two people fall together like the leaves outside, and anxieties are finally laid to rest.

You hate that you pull away first but the need for air is too much. Eddie bends enough so that his forehead leans on yours, both looking into each other eyes living in the moment of your blissed out hearts.

"Tell me if I'm being too forward but do you wanna get out of here?" He flirts and you respond simply by pecking his lips once more.

"Thought you'd never ask."

thank you all for reading!!! love you guys <3

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[notroosterbradshaw]

about: just some smut to fend off jetlag. i love sleepy Bradley, I make no excuses that I feel he does his best work in the early hours of the day. This was supposed to be a drabble… it’s not anymore. Sorry.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

masterlist.

The morning after the night before when Bradley met your family for the first time, you'd flown across the world to surprise your dad for his birthday and really, it luckily coincided with Bradley's time off. When you mentioned heading home for your old man's special day that usually kicked off your family's holiday season, you almost fell out of your seat when he said maybe it was time he met the fam face-to-face, not just making small talk over FaceTime. It almost didn’t seem fair that he was subjected to meeting everyone this way, but alas… here you were the next morning, jet lag kicking in while wrapped protectively in Bradley’s strong, golden arms and washed in the relief your family fucking loved him. You weren't overly surprised. 

Bradley's quiet, unassuming charm was just who your mum wanted you to end up with, he was into golf and surfing, so your dad and brothers thought he was the bee's knees. Your sister on the other hand... 

You had to fend her off more than you would have liked. You were confident in your relationship with Bradley, knowing he'd never allow anything to happen. "You're coming across a little desperate," you hissed after one or two drinks, which mortified her, and she apologised, admitting she was just happy to finally get to meet the guy who'd swept you off your feet. "Yes, my feet," you reminded her. When she pointed out how possessive you sounded, you didn't deny it. But she got it and gave you space for the rest of the evening. 

Ahh, sisters. 

Bradley felt your body writhe in the gentlest of movements against his and he sighed. Sleep hadn’t come easy for either of you and compounded with the food and booze you’d indulged in the day before, neither of you slept much. “You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered at God-knows-what-o’clock. 

“What time is it?” You asked softly.

“I dunno, baby. Sun is barely rising,” he admitted. “Can’t hear a peep in the house.”

Which was nice because yesterday was intense. Everyone was so excited to meet your new American boyfriend (fairly, it’d been about eight months, give or take with a few deployments), the incredibly handsome navy pilot whom you’d met one evening at a naval bar while travelling. You’d caught his eyes behind his sunglasses while he played the piano, the crowd around him as swept away with him as you were. The first half-smile in your direction, as he sang, had done you over in a way not one single person on the planet had before. 

He'd charmed you instantly. He still charmed you constantly. 

“Did you get any sleep?” you asked, biting back a yawn.

“Not really,” he peppered tender kisses into your shoulder blade and smiled into your skin as you pressed back into him, the oh-so-quiet moan made for his ears only waking him from his dreaded fog as well. “I’ll try and get a kip somewhere today. That fuckin’ flight murdered me.” 

“You were happy to fly economy,” you muttered. “I know you’re used to tight quarters, but fuck Bradley. It was 15 hours." 

“I know, I know I fucked up. I was looking at upgrades overnight. I’ll use my discount and stuff; we can do it flying home.”

“You sure?”

“Sue me for wanting to save a buck,” he sighed, with a tired, deep chuckle. “Flight was so full; people may as well have been sitting on the wings.”

“It’s Christmas. People travel.”

“You don't say,” he affectionately gripped your waist, rolling you to him and kissed you. “Good morning, I think," he nuzzled your nose against his and asked if you wanted some water or anything.

You shook your head, rolling back and snuggling into him as he adjusted his arms around you again, his nose buried in your hair. "I think Dad is gonna expect you for at least nine holes today." 

"I think so, yeah. Grill me and make sure I'm good enough for his little girl.” He murmured and if he was honest, he was the teeniest bit nervous. He’d never really been in relationships long enough to meet families… and who would he introduce anyone to, except for Mav?

"I think you'll be fine."

"He probably wouldn't be if he knew what a deviant I've turned his smart, beautiful baby girl into.”

You giggled quietly as you could feel the soft ends of his moustache curve into a smirk against the nape of your neck. "He'd send you back on the first flight to LA."

"I would believe that," he said softly. 

"I think yesterday went really well, Bradley," you confided quietly to him.

"You think? I was on my very best behaviour," he teased you.

"Yes, you were," you admitted. Not that he ever wasn't. Bradley was instilled with a remarkable set of manners. He was chivalrous and courteous to a fault, incredibly sweet and at times, pensive, even shy. Almost make believe that you were lucky enough to share his time. You wriggled back against him, and you could feel the hard-on straining through his boxer briefs. "Down, boy." 

"Can't help it," he sighed. "You know what you do to me with that ass. I know what you want. You're not that transparent."

You bit back your pleased smile as his wandering hands travelled down your side, fingertips toying with the hem of his old Navy tee that was now your bed shirt. At home, you were nude sleepers. At your parents' home during the holidays? You showed decorum and respect and you both hated it, preferring skin-on-skin of the other but alas, anyone could walk in at any time. 

“Have a thought about how we might be able to fuck this jetlag off…” 

“Oh, yeah?” at this point, you’d do anything and with Bradley’s travel for work, you hoped maybe he might have some insight. You had planned to just power through and try not to be the world’s most exhausted asshole. 

"You just move your thigh a little this way..." he murmured, his palm cupping your hamstring and you pressed back into him, grinning softly. “And I just slide up in here – ”

“Confident of you, don’t you think?”

“You’re always wet for me,” he whispered against your skin. “Unless you deny it.”

“Never…” you told him, reaching back to wrap an arm around his strong neck. “I just can't keep it down with you. Why didn’t you convince me to get the AirBnb?”

He loved how vocal you were during sex. Your moans, the hisses, the way you'd bite your lip when you were so close. That groan as you came, or the little squeal when you were too sensitive was burned into his brain as his favourite sounds in the world. 

"Just lemme hold you then, it's okay, sweetheart," he grumbled. “I’ll live if you can.” 

“Asshole,” you muttered as he chuckled. 

“Do you want a blowjob?” You nervously offered, turning back to him and he looped your thigh over his hip and perched you above him with such little effort on his behalf - you loved how strong he was but you knew what was waiting for you, Bradley made no secret he was turned on and you loved that you were able to have him on a knife-edge at all times. 

The one per cent, he’s told you once before. 

You’re so sweet to him as you slowly dragged your hand into the waistband of his boxer briefs, revealing more and more skin, cock springing free, slapping against his toned, tanned Adonis belt. Long, thick and dripping with precum already and he almost blushed at how eager he was.

“I’ll never say no,” he replied, “And I know you might be uncomfortable here. Your dad is right across the hall, baby."

“But my daddy is right here…” you immediately corrected him, and he smiled darkly to himself. You didn't use that term lightly, you couldn’t nfi fed to him he had the ability to bring out your innermost feral when you least expected it and he would do his utmost to encourage it (if you were comfortable). 

“Jesus,” his head was swirling, trying to keep calm and not blow his load the second you bared your tongue to him but there was absolutely nothing sweet about it. He was a preening mess when you went down on him. The night you'd told him you weren't overly experienced in blow jobs was the greatest night of his life, coaching you through what he liked and watching you perfect your generous technique time and time again. 

These days, you loved giving Bradley head. He gave you confidence, he made you feel sexy and not like it was only about him on the receiving end. He’s whispered and encouraged, and when it all got too much, he told you he was close. He was neither here nor there on the whole spit or swallow thing… until you and your preference but he was never left empty-handed.

"Shh," you hissed. "Not a sound." 

That one thing you did for him that absolutely made him come undone. And he'd bury his face in your pussy all day if you allowed him to show you how fucking grateful, he was for all the pleasure you presented him. Your sweet, tight wetness that he would eagerly drown himself in if you’d let him. 

Your honeyed tongue delicately tasted the flawless head of his cock, lapping up the precum as Bradley's eyes rolled back into his head and his big hands reached to knot into your hair as you went to work, swirling your tongue and looking up with your big, scheming eyes, knowing you had him at his most precarious. 

He was a weapon in his training, his mind and body were always primed to do what was asked of him, but you were the exception and it scared and excited him.

He could feel himself getting so close to painting the back of that beautiful mouth, and while it pained him to say it, the way your eyes softened told him he’d made the right choice. “Come on, baby, I want you.” 

You gently pulled away and asked, “You don’t want me to finish?”

“No, I wanna fuck, baby. Watch you lose control.” 

“Okay,” you said, your soft hand trading with your warm mouth to tenderly pump and tease him. 

“Gimme a sec. I don't have condoms close,” he whispered. “They're in my luggage.”

"Just pull out, sweetheart," you enticed him, wanting to feel all of him. It was so infrequent you fucked without protection, and of course, you both preferred it that way but after a pregnancy scare (or not, neither of you was really sure) a few months back, you'd both decided to stop tempting fate and ensuring there was a stash of condoms at his place, your place... the goddamn Bronco – Bradley understood that it was your body and you didn’t want to be on the pill. A condom was the least he could do, and he knew it. 

Bradley helped you move up his body and rest you above him. "Are you sure?" he kissed you, your gleaming teeth lightly stinging into his bottom lip with an affectionate nip. 

“I trust you,” you told him. "Cum where you need...”

Truth be told, he wanted to cum deep, but he licked back a wet smile and he moved to his knees to pull his navy tee over your head, bearing your beautiful breasts to him, full, round, nipples begging for attention. “On your back, baby,” he urged, guiding you under him, anticipating how wet you were for him, legs splaying open unashamed. He rested the head of his cock on your weeping cunt, his fingers spreading your bare lips and sweeping your slick across your clit, fascinated by that little peep of desperation from you. Your head fell back against the pillows, bliss sweeping through you as he sweetly pressed one finger into you. “Drippin’,” he reported, pressing in another finger and his thumb rubbing tenderly against your throbbing clit. “Gonna gush for me?” 

You probably would, Bradley’s ability to drag absolutely everything out of you blew your mind each time. “Need your cock. Fill me up, Bradley.” 

Pushing in, one delicious inch by delicious inch, licking his full lips as your back curved to take him as deeply as possible. He buried his face in your breasts, holding one in his calloused palm, eyes fluttering closed as he traced, left wet, open-mouthed kissed and tenderly bit the other, and the groan you let you made him clamp his palm over your mouth. “You’re so wet, baby,” he stared deeply into your eyes as he evened his breath with the first few rolls of his slender hips. "But you're gonna wake your parents if you don’t control yourself."

"Let them fuckin' hear," you muttered behind your hand (you’d die if they heard you though) as he chuckled and began his ruthless assault on your senses, one thrust at a time. 

"You're too good to me," Bradley reminded you in disbelief.  

"All for you," you confided, as you watched the beads of sweat break across his brow as you dug your nails into his well-worked traps, willingly knowing it would leave a mark courtesy of your fresh manicure. You raised your hips to meet his deep, plunging thrusts, fucking into you strong and deep. He felt incredible, you don't think anyone had loved on you as Bradley Bradshaw could. So thorough, and never one to leave you hanging. 

Too long, too sore? He'd pause and tenderly withdraw to hold you, reassuring you that it was fine, and your comfort was paramount. Too sensitive after coming too hard, he'd give you time to recover, finding other ways to bring you pleasure.

It was nice to be considered in your relationship, in your sex life especially. In the past, you'd been made to feel like a machine, if you didn't cum, partners still could, and you'd just deal with it. For a long time, that stuck with you and having someone consider you like Bradley would almost seem too good to be true at the start. 

But that consideration never lapsed. He was make-believe and you fucking hoped if this man and everything he brought to you was a dream that you’d never, ever wake up. 

Desperate to keep himself controlled, Bradley reached for the headboard of your old bed, gripping it for dear life as he tried so damn hard to avoid coming. He loved fucking you raw, and since birth control was completely your choice, you two had to stop playing this dangerous game. Because one day? It would beat you both.

"I need to cum, Bradley," you whined to him as he nodded, chewing his lower lip, and putting your delicate fingers in your mouth, not losing his rhythm. He knew. He knew how close you were. 

"Lemme see you touch yourself, baby. Get those fingers - " he gasped as you clenched around him. "Get 'em nice and wet and play with that sweet, tight pussy. Lemme see you fall apart.”

Before, language like that would embarrass you, but with Bradley, it only spurred you on. It was incredible the ways he’d helped you grow and mature as a friend, partner and lover. As instructed, and in the low early morning light, Bradley’s breath hitched, watching you touch yourself and you couldn’t help it, the beat of his cock against your g-spot, your fingers pressing rough circles into your clit and you started to come. 

“Yes, baby. Yes,” he urged, moving his mouth to your ear, whispering his sweet encouragement. “You feel so good, just a little mo – ” he forced his mouth against yours, kissing your pleasure to him, to keep the noise down. He wrapped his hand under your hip, lifting your waist to push harder into you as you trembled below him, your pussy clutching his cock, spasming as he shuddered against your lips. “Yes, baby.”

“Jesus, Bradley, fuck me,” you begged as his hips speed up like a piston, thrusting hard into your swollen, sensitive pussy, his hand clutching yours away from your strained clit and pressing intensely in your place, hoping to drag your orgasm out and as you fell, lifeless, back against the squishy pillows, pussy pulsating, Bradley grunted low he was coming and after his final few thrusts, he quickly withdrew and unloaded, stroking himself until he was spent, pearly ribbons of cum decorating your belly and breasts. 

He collapsed beside you, taking your cheeks in his face and kissing you wildly. “I love you. I love you, baby,” he kissed you again, and though you were spent, you returned his affections, because truly… you loved Bradley Bradshaw with your entire being. It was going to take a lot to change that. “Are you okay?” he asked, chest still heaving as he breathed, his pointer finger tracing through the mess he made on you.

“I’m good, sweetheart,” you assured him as he gave you one last, final kiss.

“Think that helped with your jetlag?” he teased.

“Makes me want another round,” you admitted as he chuckled and raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course you do,” he pressed a kiss into your pulse and lifted his lips back to yours, holding you close and just like horny teenagers, enjoying making out for a few moments in the afterglow. “Where’s that shirt gone?” he asked, peering over the side of the bed, and cleaning you up. “Jackson Pollack painting here.”

“Be less proud,” you told him as he snorted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he pressed another kiss to your lips. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Perfect, but let me go pee,” you whispered as Bradley kissed you long and deep, he nodded into the kiss but was not quite ready to leave you leave him. 

“Go, clean up, baby,” he helped you up from the bed, your legs precarious and meandering like Bambi. “Careful,” he sighed, wistfully. But he knew it already, you were thoroughly fucked, just how he liked it. 

A few hours later and thankfully, a few more hours of sleep, your alarm woke you, the sun much higher in the sky and the heat of the day starting to rise. You’d showered and told him to come down when he was ready, you’d help your Mum with some brekky.

“You want eggs?”

“Anything,” Bradley admitted. “Famished.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” you cupped his face in your palms and kissed him lightly. “Don’t rush.”

“Okay,” he gave a small grin but didn’t much feel like lingering. After a quick shower, he dressed, annoyed he didn't pack any golf gear, at minimum the shoes that you gave him grief for every time he wore them, but maybe he'd treat himself and buy some at the course today. He rifled through his bag, clutching the velvet box in his palm tightly, convinced more than ever that this was real, this was happening and soon, he'd hope to have you wearing his mother's engagement ring too. 

Slapping on his CVN-71 cap, he knew you went a bit feral when he perched it backward. May as well leave you with good thoughts while he was out and about, asking your old man for your hand on the golf course. And if it went badly, it was also something to identify him when the authorities found him if your dad said no. 

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 🟠 1980's Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

⭐ We Were Such Fools by kiddle / @bluejeanlouis (M, 98k)

Rule #1: The Rewind Machine cannot be used to change the past, only to experience it. History will reset itself to the original timeline every 24 hours.

On his fiftieth birthday, two things are consuming Harry’s mind: what he’s going to make the kids for dinner tonight, and the fact that his marriage is crumbling at his feet.

So, when his best friend gifts him the trip of a lifetime, Harry chooses to venture off to the summer that set his life on its course—all the way back in 1987, California.

It only took him one summer to fall in love with his husband the first time around. How hard could starting all over really be?

⭐ modern love by prettyoddnjh (T, 72k)

It's August 9th, 1985. "Shout" by Tears for Fears is the top song on the Billboard charts, Back to the Future has been the #1 film in the country for five weeks straight, and Harry has just moved to what he thinks is probably the shittiest town in the Midwest.

Louis has been wasting away in East Chicago for over five years, Harry is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to him, and both of them are hiding a dangerous secret from their best friend: they're, like, totally sprung on each other.

⭐ The World Turned Upside Down by dogslpdi / @dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram (E, 71k)

In September 1984, Harry Styles starts at Manchester Polytechnic with two goals: to take pictures and to join the Lesbian and Gay Society. He’s never paid much attention to the news, but everyone he meets in Manchester supports the miners. He realises how right they are when he meets Louis Tomlinson, a striking miner who flirts with him. A month later they are both at the founding meeting of Manchester Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners, trying to bring down the government. Through letters and visits they build a relationship, in a world very much not of their own choosing.

Manchester and Doncaster in the 1980s are grim, hopeful and alive. Niall is president of the Young Labour club, Nick Grimshaw is in love with the singer of an up and coming band, Fizzy wants to know more about the women of Greenham Common and Harry and Louis are brave.

A Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners/Pride AU.

⭐ Among Lavender Fields by @homosociallyyours (E, 70k)

At twenty-one, Louis Tomlinson is more than ready to shed the girl next door image that's been with her since her entry into film in her childhood, but with a mother and father steeped in Hollywood tradition it's felt impossible. Meanwhile, Harry Styles is a young, struggling musician new to London, friendless yet eager for the next phase of her life to begin.

When French director Marie Coutard casts the two of them in her film, it's a chance for both to break away from the people they've been. Together, they struggle through an acting process that's new and unfamiliar for both of them, learning more than they could've imagined about themselves along the way. As they spend long days picking lavender and long nights sharing the things they've never been able to tell anyone else, their love blooms.

Will the flower fade, or will the love they make among lavender fields be one they carry with them to the end?

⭐ HL 80s nyc verse (series) by superglass (M, 51k)

He expects his usual warm welcome from Sue, always drying off a glass or cleaning the taps with a dirty rag. Instead, to his shock, a man is behind the bar, pouring a Whiskey Sour for a regular Harry always sees at this time of night. He’s no doubt his age; he can tell by the smoothness of his skin, the muscles in his biceps, the way his hair is swept back in a style not unlike a young James Dean, exemplifying the cut of his cheekbones and the sharpness at his jaw.

As he approaches the bar, quietly since he’s not wearing his shoes, he blurts it out— “Where’s Sue? Is she alright? She’s not dead, is she?”

The barkeep, wide-eyed at first but quickly growing amused, smiles at him, eyeing his dress, tousled wet hair and smudged makeup with a curl in his lip. “Darling,” he says, completely ignoring his question, “a leather jacket with a dress like that? Are you mad?”

or In the midst of the AIDS crisis, Harry meets Louis after coming home from a drag ball. 80s NYC au.

⭐ what this world is about by isntrio / @bloubird (E, 34k)

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Alternatively titled: the beginning.

⭐ What Happened to 'Never Say Die'? by kiddle / @bluejeanlouis (T, 28k)

The ‘80s were one of the best decades to be a teenager in America. Just ask anyone who's seen a John Hughes movie. Louis would beg to differ. At least today he would, while he was stuck cleaning out his family's basement - part of his grounding after a senior prank gone wrong. But when he finds a box containing details of the biggest unsolved crime in Luna Hills, he and his friends decide to sneak out for one last adventure before they're all off to college. That is, as long as the mayor, who also happens to be Louis' mother, doesn't stop them before they discover the truth.

Or, a coming of age American AU inspired by classic ‘80s movies like The Goonies and Stand By Me where everyone has a secret and no one wants to get caught.

⭐ Never Meant to Be So Bad to You by harriblou (M, 27k)

Louis hated Harry and his stupid confidence and his handsome face and his deep voice and his stupid jeans and his stupid smile and his stupid existence. He hated Harry, always had and always will. They’d never gotten along and Louis wasn’t sure how it started, but he knows that Harry was put onto this earth to bug the hell out of Louis. Being trapped inside of an arcade with him was hell and it hadn't been a full minute.

or the 80's Arcade AU that no one asked for about how louis and harry hate each other (not really) and have an intense rivalry over video games. featuring liam niall and zayn as the friends who help them sort themselves out.

⭐ Lean On My Shoulder (I See Myself With You) by Jennifer_Kaid / @poetsreprieve (E, 19k)

Speaking of the views, there was someone on his balcony. The sun was still setting, making this person look even more ethereal. They seemed to be at content at being alone. Harry watched as they watered the plants, they certainly didn't look like they were amongst the help.

Curiosity got the best of him and he decided to invade this stranger's quiet time; the Prince could be selfish sometimes.

"When you love something, you help them grow."

⭐ enter exit (enter) by @louisandthealien (M, 17k)

When he’s finally in the hotel, crammed into the tiny phone booth, all he can do is stare at the faded paper sign glaring down at him from the wall.

1 Minute = 11.82 USD Mexico --> United States

He has less than a minute to break his boyfriend’s heart, and it’s going to cost him twelve bucks to do it.

There’s sand under his fingernails as he dials the number.

⭐ after hours by @muldxr (E, 16k)

Harry moves like lightning as he slides the books off the shelves into the open, waiting abyss of his bag. Then, as Louis clears the other end of the exhibit just as quickly, he moves on to the display case next to it and the one after that. One flimsy book practically flies open as he picks it up, the paper held together by feeble strings on the spine. He leaves it behind. Not worth selling.

Or, a crime au set in 1980s Chicago.

⭐ honey, honey by resurrectdead / @artxghoul (E, 13k)

It just feels weird to not be able to tell his own mum about how nervous yet over the fucking moon happy he is right now, because this tape isn’t for neither Niall nor Liam. It’s for, well.It’s for Harry bloody Styles. The boy that makes his insides feel like sunshine.

Or: It’s 1988, and Louis has to make a mixtape for Harry

⭐ Haunting Beauty by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou (G, 6k)

It’s 1988. Harry has just finished his first year of teaching English and looks forward to a relaxed break. Louis is a poltergeist and has different plans for Harry’s summer.

⭐ the sound of my heart needs the sound of another heart by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry (G, 2k)

In the summer of '83, Louis is fifteen years old and in love.

⭐ Glad to be Gay by Stria / @nooradeservedbetter (T, 2k)

It's the same old story all over the world When a boy meets a boy and a girl meets a girl We all come together cos we're happy to say It's a natural fact that it's good to be gay

[Or, it's the 80s. Harry and Louis are together.]

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 19: weal

Today was her nameday. She’d just woken up, and she was dreading it already. The summer solstice was a feast in honor of Azim, and amidst all the roasting of dzo and chugging of kumiss, not too many people had ever bothered to remember it was also one girl’s nameday. Her parents had always set aside the choicest bits of lamb for her, but if anyone else noticed it was only to paint her face with gold paint and parade her between two bonfires, crying to the Dawn Father that one of His acolytes had come. It had rather put a dent in her desires for feasting and dancing.

When she’d washed up in Eorzea, at first she’d resigned herself to being the only person who even knew she was a year older. Except then Rita had asked, and she’d answered, and on the next solstice—and the next, and the next—there had been a little round chocolate cake all for her, with candles on top shaped like the numbers of her new age.

(It hadn’t been the only reason she’d stayed with the Scions, but it certainly hadn’t hurt. The Steppes had never heard of chocolate.)

But she’d been in Garlemald for a year now, and there were no little chocolate cakes. What there were instead, still, were her fellow Xaela, and after the winter solstice bonfires word had gotten out that she was Dawn-touched. A quiet day was definitely out of the question, she thought sourly as she finished applying her face paint.

Someone was knocking on the door of the yurt. While Theo barked frantically as though they’d somehow missed it, Alan got up to open it.

“We need to borrow Gan—”

“No, you do not,” Alan snapped, and slammed the door in the Mol woman’s face.

Gan almost blinked, but that would have messed up the lines. “Not that I’m not thankful, but...” What was that about?

Alan flashed her one of those soft smiles over his shoulder, the one that said without words, I love you, and I’m so glad you’re here. “It’s your nameday. You deserve to be left alone.” He paused, looking oddly guilty, and then added, “I...made sure you’d have time off, too.”

Her heart somersaulted in her chest. “Not all alone,” she shot back, just in case her man got any ideas about blending into the wallpaper. Today of all days! “You’re here, aren’t you? And...” She swept her gaze up his body, taking in his fine fur-trimmed coat and snug trousers, and then back down just to linger on those shoulders again. And those thighs. She was a weak mortal woman and it was her nameday, sue her. “Seems you’ve got plans.”

He was blushing. They’d been together for years and he still went red when she looked at him like that, it was adorable. “...Aye,” he muttered. “You’ve been working so hard lately. I thought it would be nice to just...take Theo for a walk. No expectations that we’ll bring back game, no formal patrolling. Just us. Does that sound good? I—I mean, if it doesn’t, we can just—stay in. Do whatever you want.” He was bright red by the time he finished speaking.

“That sounds amazing.” It really did. Once, the merest flake of snow had sent her into shaking fits. But Garlemald had forced her to confront her old, vicious memories, and now...well, she’d never like snow or the cold, but it was incredible how much Alan’s presence warmed her up. Besides, summer in the Magna Glacies was almost bearable if you didn’t mind mud. “Lemme get my coat...”

As she started assembling her various layers, Alan added, “But we have to be back by sundown.”

So there was a time limit. Interesting. Her tail flicked thoughtfully. “Got it.”

Breakfast was tea, piping hot pancakes—with chocolate syrup, and when had they gotten that in?—and well-wishes from her fellow craftsmen. Theo bounded around their feet and then ahead of them as soon as they set out on their leisurely stroll around the perimeter, but she didn’t play tag with him like she normally did. That would’ve deprived her of Alan’s hand at the small of her back, Alan’s quiet laughter against her horn. And if she stopped, overflowing with love, to kiss him breathless behind a tree—well, she didn’t have anywhere else to be.

They made their way back to Laterum eventually, footsore but smiling, and then Alan announced he had another present for her—he’d arranged for private use of one of the baths for two hours, just for them. “So I can take care of your scales for you,” he murmured, but there was a flush to his face and a heat in his voice that let her know her scales were definitely not the only thing he was hoping to take care of.

Gods, she loved this man. Grinning, she breathed, “Lead th’ way.”

He did. And he was very, very thorough.

It was sundown by the time they finished. Alan hurried her past the commissary, which was odd. There was light shining under the door of their yurt, which was odder still. She was aware of quiet voices within.

More importantly, Alan was saying, “I hope you don’t mind, but...” as he opened the door.

“Surprise!”

As far as she knew, Rita was in Thavnair and Hoary Boulder was in Gridania—and yet here they were, grinning at her. They’d been joined not only by most of their other coworkers but Hoelun and Evrard as well. Avery and Thancred had even forgone their usual brooding in corners, though that might’ve just been because yurts didn’t actually have any. Portia was beaming as she joked, “I’d imagine you’re probably bloody sick of seein’ half our faces, but you couldn’t think we’d miss out on your nameday! And the cake!”

“There’s cake?!” she blurted out. And then, “’Scuse me, that’s mine—”

“Not this one,” Rita informed her. She was clearly trying for ruthless, but couldn’t keep a straight face. “Your Alan had it special ordered from the Bismarck. It’s a mocha ice cream cake with chocolate ganache frosting and serves about a dozen people. Even you couldn’t eat th’ whole thing by yourself!”

All of a sudden, some of the overheard conversations—alright, overheard threats—Alan had been hissing into his linkpearl made sense. She felt a grin split her face. “Aww, honey...”

He turned lightly pink. “You deserve it.”

She did.

Maybe this nameday would be worth celebrating after all.

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

It takes a mob part 3

Part one 

previously

“This place is a dump Bill.”

“Hey! Excuse me if I wasn’t expecting company!”

Bill grimaced as he pushed a couple takeout boxes of the kitchen island. Renting alone was difficult enough; maybe he hasn’t swept or scrubbed in a while. He’s been busy, sue him!

The kid didn’t seem to mind, he was too busy chewing on a rabbit ear to complain.

Ken grimaced as he bounced the squirt,

“Forget company Bill, you got an entire war in your kitchen.”

“It you’re going to complain so much about it then lend a hand?”

“Oh no man, you forget. I’m holding Danny, this is an important job! Can’t have him crawling around here and picking up diseases. This is much more important than being your busboy.”

Bill raised a brow, watching as Marv snuck up behind Ken and scooping up the kid with a chuckle.

“Oh yeah? Looks like you’ve been relieved. Hop to it bus boy.”

“Marv!!”

“Didn’t want Danny to pick up your garbage attitude.”

Bill held back a groan as the two dumbasses started a game of keep away with the boy.

He was tired. What was supposed to be a quick beer on a night off has turned into a four am game of house.

The chaos paused when a whimper broke into the air.

“Look what you did Marv!”

“Me!? Ken you didn’t have to-“

The kid was fully bawling his eyes out and the two jackasses where too wrapped in their pissing match to notice.

Grabbing the boy from the two of them, Bill leveled the with a glare as he gently bounced the kid on his hip.

“He ain’t a toy you bozos! Be glad you didn’t drop him and crack his head open!”

Not breaking his glare Bill made his way to his couch and lowered himself to the cousins with a weary sigh,

“I’m cashing in the IOU’s. You two idiots get to clean the apartment.”

Bill raised his unoccupied hand at Ken’s sputtering,

“I’m not fucking finished numb nuts. You two are goin’ to clean and think about what you did. The tyke is barely old enough to raise his head! I don’t care if he’s a meta or not. The only reason he’s here and not at the Wayne foundation is because it’s safer with us than in the goddam system! The second that changes I’m not afraid to pack him up and take him there myself. Am I clear?”

Ken let out an annoyed “yes sir.”

Marv for his part looked properly chastised.

“Alright, now get.”

Letting out another sigh, Bill turned his attention to Danny.

“Let it out kid, just let it out.”

With a little bounce Bill brought his feet up and tried to get himself comfortable leaning against the arm rest.

‘The kid has a set of healthy lungs at least...’

“I’m really sorry you got to deal with a couple lugs like us. If it makes you feel any better, Kenny’s 19 and Marv has only handled older youngin’s before. There’s a learning curve.”

Bringing the squirming tot to his chest Bill began to run his palm up and down his back, mildly marveling at how much he could cover in one small swipe.

“Truth is, I’m probably no better. At least those two have excuses. If I fuck up don’t hold back on old Billy alright? Lord knows I can get my head up my ass at times.”

Danny let out a little hiccup as his crying petered out. Glancing down, Bill switched to rubbing a small circle with his thumb as the baby’s eyes began to droop.

‘Huh.. I thought his eyes were blue?’

Bill gave a mental shrug. It probably had something to do with his meta-abilities. God forbid if he drew the line in the sand over an eye color change.

The kid was fighting to stay awake; it was kind of adorable watching him try to keep his eyes open.

That being said a sleeping baby was easier to deal with than awake one.

‘Ok, think Bill, think. What would old man do?’

Glancing around, he made a face.

‘They won’t hear me over their own swearing...’

Clearing his throat, Bill hummed as he tried to recall some old words.

“Go to sleep you littl’ baby.. Go to sleep you littl’ baby. Your mama’s gone away and your daddy’s goin’ to stay.. Didn’t leave nobody but the baby..”

Bill kept humming as he tried to recall the next verse.

He hadn’t heard the song since he was a tyke himself, sue him.

He could almost feel the moment when the little man lost the war with sleep.

“Honey on a rock and sugar don’t stop.. gotta bring a bottle to the baby..”

Bill was pretty sure he got that lyric wrong, what Danzo didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

Bill kept humming as he listened to the sound of Gotham outside. The early bird would be just starting their commute by now.

Actually, why weren’t the numbskulls making any noise? If they think he was going to accept any half ass cleaning for two favors than they had quite a bitching to look forward to.

‘Not right now.’ Bill felt his humming slow down, ‘can’t risk waking the kid,’

He was aware he was joining Danny in Dreamland at this point; the fact of the matter is he been up for almost 24 hours and is supposed to go in tonight anyways.

He deserved some sleep after all this shit.

Gently laying his arm over Danny, he let his body relax as the first rays of dawn entered the apartment.

Hoodlums:

@reinluna,@confused-moose-child,@mimilikey,@emeraudesfateandfandoms, @dolfay, @boredomfarie, @aconitewolfsbane, @withoutcontxt, @onyxlightdragon, @satanicrutialspecialist, @phoenixdemonqueen, @vixen-uchiha, @skulld3mort-1fan, @bytheoldwillowtree, @illusionwolfwriter24r8, @thewondersoflebanon, @vipower001, @autumnwulf, @alice-hazelwood, @fisticuffsatapplebees, @f4nd0m-fun, @markus209, @latheevening226 @255940g, @dolfay, @basilf1res, @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair, @skirter01, @magnificence12, @bun-fish, @ascetic-orange @thegatorsgoose @sunflowershine03 @ladythugs @firegirl108 @glitchedchaos @rangerhorsetug, @freakofyournature, @mimilikey, @crazycatgirl420

[heyitssmiller]

As Good a Start as Any

Wrote another part of Rendezvous with Destiny if y’all wanna check it out!! Characters of course belong to @lumosinlove and thank you to Eve and Lauren for being my beta readers!!!

ao3 link

Finn was fine.

Really.

It felt like it had been decades ago, but Finn had once written a letter, his shaking hand transcribing thoughts into trembling lines of ink, promising to take Leo dancing when (if) he made it to New York. Tonight he was keeping that promise. And now, against all odds, Logan was there with them, too - a wonderful, thrilling breath of fresh air. Getting to really know him outside of dire circumstances and too brief interactions, while new and exciting, was also gentle and familiar - like he was someone they’d always known, always had a place for without ever recognizing it. It was smelling an old but well-loved recipe in the oven, it was picking up a book he’d read years and years ago and diving right back into the story. It was homecoming.

Logan was walking between Leo and Finn, eyes bright as Leo told the story of Finn teaching him how to dance and, naturally, over-embellishing the fuck out of it.

“Then he swoops in, my knight in shining armor-”

Finn sighed and bit back a smile. “Leo-”

“And he sweeps me off my feet - not literally, I weigh too much, but - you know,” he waved his hand dramatically, “Metaphorically.”

Logan smiled and, man, Finn didn't think he was being overdramatic when he said he’d do anything to see that smile.

“Leo here’s a klutz. I couldn’t have swept him off his feet even if I tried,” Finn teased, reaching over to playfully shove him. Leo shot him a highly-offended glare.

“For the record, I was tripping all over myself because this very handsome, sweet, funny soldier had his hands all over me and I had no clue what to do with myself,” Leo said with a shrug, completely candid and causing Finn to smile over at him warmly.

“Aww, you sap.”

Leo hummed in agreement. “One look at those big, brown eyes and I was done for.” He looked to Logan, then, and his smile widened. “And then you come along…”

“With your accent,” Finn butted in. Logan ducked his head, a little bashfully.

“And your smile,” Leo continued.

“And your big… heart.”

Leo laughed gleefully and ducked down to kiss Logan on the cheek. “I didn’t know you could blush like that.”

Finn bit back a smug smile. “Oh, I did,” he said, and relished the look on Leo’s face. Priceless. “I think you were at the grocer’s. I would say sorry, but I’m really not.”

He could all but see the gears in Leo’s head start to turn.

Logan watched him, too, clearly not opposed to his train of thought. “Take me dancing first, then you can make me turn red later.”

“Promise?” Leo asked, laughing when Logan shoved his face away and kept walking. He gave Finn a look, one that said I really love him.

Finn gave him one back that said, me too.

They ducked into the club, immediately getting blasted by the seventeen-piece band on stage. It was crowded, people crammed together at the edges of the dance floor and plenty more dancing away in a blur of limbs and flying hair. The bar off to the left was just as busy, with glasses sliding across the wet, sticky countertop and patrons vying for the bartenders’ attention. It was havoc, and Finn wasn’t quite sure if he liked it or not.

“Come on!” Leo shouted to be heard, grabbing Logan by the hand and dragging him off to the dancefloor. Finn lingered, wanting to get used to their environment before getting out there, but he watched as Leo swung Logan into a surprisingly good Lindy Hop. Apparently he’d been telling the truth about Finn making him flustered all those years ago in the barracks.

Finn was smug about it, sue him.

The band picked up the pace, and the dancers followed suit. It was loud. It was crowded. It was chaos. Finn could hear the shouts of couples spinning each other out on the dance floor, the rhythmic boom of the bass drum, mortars shrieking overhead, the canvas of their glider ripping while the metal hull groaned, the smiles around him morphing into grimaces and screams, reaching for Leo, always reaching for Leo, but he was never close enough, watching Logan climb into the back of a truck and disappear -

A hand grabbed his. “Finn. Hey-”

Leo. He grabbed that hand like a lifeline, like he hadn’t been able to in the back of that glider, and held on for dear life.

“Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe, breathe-”

Finn sucked in a stuttering, noisy breath and his fingers clumsily moved up to the pulsepoint in Leo’s wrist, letting muscle memory take over. The thrum of his heartbeat was nothing compared to the boom of the bass drum, though, so he pressed down harder, wanting- needing it to be stronger, louder.

“Outside,” another voice said - Logan. Finn twisted his head to look for him, then stayed locked onto green, green eyes as he was led to the back alley. It didn’t smell great, it was still stuffy and confining, but as the door to the club closed the sounds from inside got muffled and Finn could focus on what he wanted to focus on: a strong, steady pulse, soothing jade eyes, three sets of lungs breathing in and out, in and out. He didn’t really want to be touched, and they knew that, but he didn’t want to be alone either. So they stayed just close enough and let Finn dictate what he needed. He followed their breathing and repeated their mantra in his head, three times, once for each of them:

We’re ok. We’re ok. We’re ok.

“Sorry,” Finn croaked out when he was able to, pulling Logan close and then sandwiching him between Leo and himself. “We didn’t even get to finish the first song.”

Leo let out a quiet hum of dissent and pushed a stray piece of hair back out of Finn’s face, gentle and kind - so, so unlike the men they’d had to become. Finn soaked it in, let the stark sweetness in that simple motion ground him more than anything. “None of that, now. We can take it slow, we’ve got time.”

“It was a bit loud,” Logan agreed, voice muffled by the slightly starched fabric of Finn’s button down. “I like the quiet much better.”

Finn didn’t like the quiet, either - that was the thing. Too quiet set him on edge, too loud sent him into a panic. Leo actually loved the noise, the reminder that he wasn’t alone and forgotten in some abandoned, snowy foxhole.

They all needed such different things, and Finn knew that was normal, but sometimes he worried that the gaps between them would be too far to bridge. But he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to let them go, either.

Maybe that was just the way love worked - stubborn, fierce unwillingness to let your loved ones go, no matter the circumstances. To keep holding on, come hell or high water. They’d all been through worse, after all. They could get through this.

Logan pushed away just enough to see Finn’s face. His eyes gleamed in the scant light of the alley. “You wanna show me what you’ve got? Someone told me you can jive with the best of them.”

Finn laughed brightly and took Logan’s hand. “I’m a bit rusty.”

Logan just smiled that smile of his. “I don’t care.”

And so they danced, all three of them, in a frankly terrible cluster of tangled feet and stray elbows and “how do we spin each other like this?” . The trashcan farther back in the alleyway reeked, and there wasn't enough room to really dance, but they didn’t care.

It was one of those moments where Finn knew he’d remember and cherish this memory for the rest of his life (why did they seem to happen so frequently in alleys, though?). He burned every last detail he could into his memory - the song that was playing (Only Forever), the way the flickering lightbulb in the alley danced along with them, the grimace that turned into a laugh when Logan stepped on Leo’s foot, the way his heart crescendoed with love for the two in his arms.

Months, years, decades down the road, those were the things he’d remember - not what came before, just a muted melody and quickly-amassing bruises and smiles in streetlights.

.

Finn had been knitting up a storm the past few days. Wherever he went, his yarn and needles went with him - the desk of his bookstore, the living room couch, their bed, one memorable instance of the dinner table (that had quickly been vetoed by Leo). Logan knew he could knit, but he hadn’t busted out the yarn and needles for months and all of a sudden he was an unstoppable knitting machine. Hats, mittens, scarves, socks, one miserable attempt at a sweater (there had been many tears shed and several utterances of “make it make sense” before Finn called it quits). It wasn't all that cold out, and it was still a little early to start making holiday presents, Logan thought as he scratched Hershey behind his shoulder blades and watched Finn’s scrunched up concentration face - crinkled brow, chewed-on lower lip, glasses slipping down his nose. It was endearingly cute.

“What are you making?” he finally asked after the most recent string of curses and a slipped stitch.

Finn looked up, his glare easing. “It’s going to be a sock… I think.” He must’ve recognized the question in Logan’s eyes, because he continued, “They’re for Leo. It gets cold here in the winter and…” He gave a little sigh and shrugged. He didn’t have to say any more; Logan understood. He scooted a little closer to Finn on the couch until their thighs brushed. Hershey jumped down onto the floor, peeved at being jostled, and stalked away.

“Has he ever talked to you about it?” Logan asked quietly, although he was pretty sure of the answer.

Finn shook his head. “Nah. All I know is that it was cold and it was bad. Other than that, he hasn’t said a word about it. Not to me, at least. Not sure I'd be able to help, anyways.”

Logan heard the unspoken.

He covered Finn’s hands with his own and waited until he finally looked up. “You help.” He laced his words with every ounce of conviction in him, and watched them sink in. Finn’s shoulders relaxed, his eyes softened, the lines between his brows eased. Logan wondered just how long he’d been carrying that extra weight. He’d spent so much time here, alone, feeling helpless and scared and discarded, like a damaged tool that no longer had a use.

Logan ached for that man, and the one who sat beside him.

He leaned over to kiss Finn’s cheek. “You help,” he repeated, then kissed his temple. “You matter.” One final, sound kiss was pressed to Finn’s lips. “You are loved.”

When he pulled away slightly, Finn’s eyes were water-rimmed, his cheeks tear-stained. He didn't say anything, he didn’t have to - those big brown eyes did all the talking for him. He leaned forward to press his forehead to Logan’s and stayed there for a while, even though his glasses were pinching uncomfortably. “Love you,” he murmured quietly, hands smoothing up and down Logan’s thighs in a slow, loving manner. Logan kissed him again until he couldn’t breathe and all his senses were overpowered until just Finn remained. When they finally broke apart they didn’t get far, content to just linger for a while, to soak each other in, to see and be seen. Sunlight streaked through copper hair, turning it to gold and all but forcing Logan to play with the strands, twisting them this way and that to watch them shimmer. Finn simply let him, his loving eyes never drifting from Logan’s face. Logan loved it when Finn looked at him like that - like he was everything.

“Now,” Logan finally said, sitting back and tucking his feet under Finn’s thigh. “Teach me.”

Finn blinked. “Huh?”

“Teach me to knit. I want to make Leo a scarf.”

Finn smiled, sweet like honey, and fished another set of knitting needles and some yarn out of his bag.

And later that evening, when Leo came home a little pale and vacant-eyed, Finn and Logan were there to pile on the warmth and chase away the ghosts.

.

Logan woke up to the roar of thunder like tank treads against Parisian streets, the flashes of lightning like antiaircraft, the wind howling like bombs racing for their targets - all of it too loud, too real, too similar to before. He flinched and hid his face in Leo’s neck, trembling a bit. He hated this. He hated how his fears and his memories clashed into one big, waking nightmare - one he couldn’t escape from.

Leo shifted slightly underneath him, a deep inhale making his chest rise, lifting Logan with him. “Hey, lover,” his honey voice murmured on the gentle breath of an exhale. Logan squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to burn that moment into his memory - maybe the bright warmth could outshine the dark shadows or terror and helplessness, like the sun shining bright and blinding to chase away the storm clouds. It wasn’t that simple - it would never be that simple. But Logan could hope. He could dream.

And in that moment, it was enough.

Thunder rolled again; that was all it took for Leo to understand. Two strong arms snaked around Logan’s waist, cold hands quickly warming up against his skin. “I’m here, I’ve got you,” were the only words Leo uttered, gentle but firm as his lips brushed against the shell of Logan’s ear. No empty words or impossible promises, just the unalterable fact that Leo was there, Leo had him.

Finn climbed out of bed and stretched his arms over his head. Logan hadn't even realized he was awake. He turned back towards the bed to lean down and give Logan a quick kiss to the temple before he started what he liked to call “The Rainy Day Strategy”. The radio was turned on, the curtains closed as tightly as possible, and then Finn left the bedroom to go and make tea for the three of them - two chamomile and one peppermint. He left the bedroom door open, just like always; Logan was never sure whose peace of mind it was for - hell, it was probably for all three of them.

Leo stayed steady beneath him, fingers tracing an invisible pattern onto his back and humming along to the song on the radio. Resting his chin on Leo’s chest, Logan looked up at him - messy bedroom curls, sleepy blue eyes, an imprint of his pillowcase on one cheek. He’d wanted this all the way back in that tiny hotel room in Paris, wishing for so much more than one night and a lonely morning. Now he was here, in that same boy’s arms, having gotten everything he’d wished for and then some.

The thought calmed him a bit. Storms always passed, after all.

Leo caught him staring, the song getting stuck in his throat. “Hey,” he spoke softly, one side of his mouth quirking up into a smile (the side opposite the scars, where there wasn’t any scar tissue to impede movement). Logan gave a weak smile and a “hi” back before pressing a quick kiss over another scar on Leo’s shoulder, noting that the glinting silver of it seemed to fade more and more with each passing day.

Storms always passed, after all.

Finn bustled back into the bedroom, smiling softly at them as they both sat up and got comfortable. His climb back into bed was a bit slower - stiffer and more calculated to accommodate his bad hip - but he finally settled back against the pillows and grabbed the tray of mugs from where he’d placed it on the bedside table as the discomfort vanished from his face.

Storms always passed, after all.

Their mugs of tea were passed out, blankets tucked up as far as they could go, and their burgeoning conversation began to drown out the weather that was quietly raging on outside. Sometimes it was overwhelming, how daunting and uncertain the future was, and how much they still needed to overcome in terms of their past. Years stacked upon years of horror and fear and trauma wouldn’t just go away. It would take work, and patience, and determination to make things better.

The beginnings were always the hardest part.

But at that moment, Finn was at ease. Leo was warm. Logan was calm.

And that was as good a start as any.

[andreafmn]

Collision - Chapter 2

Word Count: 1,477

Characters: Female Reader Uley Character, Sam Uley, Allison Uley, Charlie Swan, Bella Swan, Seth Clearwater, Billy Black, Jacob Black, Emily Young, Paul Lahote, Harry and Sue Clearwater, Leah Clearwater

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life at it’s first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Twilight, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Stephanie Meyer and Summit Entertainment. The only thing I own is Uley Reader insert, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 2/?

A/N: There’s no Cullen’s in the first chapter, we’ll see them soon though. Also, Esme is in the story but her and Carlisle are not together romantically. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

<-Previous | Next ->

Chapter 2

The next day she awoke at half past ten. She looked at her bedside clock flustered, knowing she had wasted almost all morning. She could smell breakfast already prepared and her mother downstairs doing some light cleaning.

She hurried into the bathroom and took a small time to finish her morning routine, flying down the stairs. Allison laughed as she noticed her daughter stumbling with hurry down the stairs, clearly heading to the door.

“Eat some breakfast before you go, darling!” Allison shouted as she swept the floor of the dining room.

“I’ll just get some on the way,” (Y/N) said as she put her jacket on, seeing in the distance dark clouds adorning the sky.

“I made you a sandwich so you can take it with you and a travel mug filled with coffee.”

“Thanks, mom. You’re the best,” (Y/N) kissed her mother’s cheek and grabbed the food from her hands.

“And be careful on the streets, the tires haven’t been changed on the truck and the roads are supposed to be very slippery today.” Allison called out to the girl who was almost completely out of the door.

(Y/N) barely heard her mother’s warning as she jogged up to the truck parked on the driveway. There was a sandwich hanging from her mouth as she backed up and sped to the main road. It was quite a long ride to Port Angeles, and she wanted to be back before dark. She spent the ninety-minute drive listening to background music and noticing how the sky changed from blue to dark grey to a lighter grey as she passed and left Forks. She rarely visited the neighboring town, listening to the stories by the elders gave her enough reason not to. Unlike most of her friends and even her own brother, she believed the string of words that they sewed. There were so many things that were unexplained in the universe that it would be ignorant of her to not believe that the supernatural could exist. Although, the past four years she had started to disregard the tales as made up stories, not being able to prove that they were veracious.

Once she arrived, she parked in front of an antique store and started perusing through the various stores in the strip mall. Before she knew it, five hours had passed. Her feet were sore from walking back and forth, her arms were read from all the bags she had carried, and her head was hurting from a lack of food. It was already five in the afternoon and (Y/N) was ready to go home. She got back into the truck and started her drive back home. An hour into the drive the sky darkened more than it should’ve, and heavy rain cascaded from the clouds. Her vision was impaired from the thick droplets and her heart was beating hard, scared of what could jump out in the darkness.

(Y/N)’s worries were confirmed when a deer jumped onto the street and had her swerve the truck. The car spun for some seconds and slid off the road, crashing into a tree. The girl’s head flew forward on impact and connected with the steering wheel in front of her. Her vision blurred and her headache grew exponentially. She could hear her name being called from far away but couldn’t distinguish whose it was. As it came closer, she could finally make out the frame of the sheriff, Charlie Swan. He was speaking to her, but no words registered in her head.

Charlie moved closer to the truck and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The sheriff reached into the open window and carefully tried to retrieve the wounded girl. She wasn’t in the right mind and in this rain an ambulance would take too long to get here. He laid (Y/N)’s head on his shoulder as she mumbled incoherent words, then reaching his arms under hers to pull her softly. He was careful not to scrape her body too much against the broken window, laying down his jacket first to cover most of it. Charlie tried his best to see amid the harsh rain, praying to whatever being was controlling the weather to stop. The blood that was gushing from (Y/N)’s forehead had washed off as soon as her head had exited the car but it didn’t stop flowing. After what felt like hours, the sheriff had the teenage girl in his arms and carried her to his cruiser. Turning his emergency lights on he sped as carefully as possible to the hospital.

He felt the ride eternal as he heard the hurt girl in the back of the car moaning in pain and noticing the shirt he’d wrapped around her forehead was soaking up too much blood. As he neared the bright lights of the hospital, he slowed the speed down as to not slam on his brakes and cause more damage to (Y/N). He carefully grabbed her limp body and entered the hospital. It seemed like the emergency room had a slow night, but he only brought trouble. 

“I need some help here!” Charlie called out, worry laced in his voice. 

“Sheriff Swan, what happened?” A nurse asked as she accompanied the team wheeling a gurney for the unconscious being in the officer’s arms. 

“This is (Y/N) Uley. She hit her head in a car accident, I assume her car swerved as she avoided an animal in the street. She’s been unconscious since I got her in my car. When I found her she was barely coherent.” 

“Okay, why don’t you wait for us in the waiting room. We’ll let you know as soon as we have some news.” The nurse smiled. 

All Charlie could do was nod and sit down for a second, later pulling out his phone to dial Allison Uley’s number. 

“Sheriff, to what do I owe this pleasure,” Allison chimed. 

“It’s not good news, Allison. (Y/N) has been in a car accident.” Charlie could feel the panicked energy coming from the other side of the phone. Close to this time last year he had gotten news that his own daughter was hurt through a phone call. “Now, Allison, I know you want to speed off to the hospital but I would advise you not to. The roads are really bad over here and we can’t have you both admitted.” 

“But I can’t leave her alone,” she sobbed. “I need to be there for my baby.” 

“I know, but she won’t be alone. I’m gonna stay here until she’s good to go and I’ll take her back to your house. Now don’t you worry, you know she’s a strong one.” 

“I know,” Allison sighed an air of defeat. “Alright, just please keep me updated on everything. Doesn’t matter how late.” 

“Will do. I’ll have my buddy pick up the truck and leave it at Billy’s.” 

“Thank you, Charlie, so much.” 

“No problem, Allison. Try to get some shuteye, it looks to be a long night.”

And a long night it was.  

Thankfully, (Y/N)’s injuries were minor and she would be able to leave as soon as she woke up. Charlie spent all night in the hospital, calling a friend to drive (Y/N)’s truck so that Jacob could see if it was worthy of repair and leaving a message for his daughter that he would not be coming home that night. The nurses were nice enough to bring the officer a blanket and some coffee as it seemed he wasn’t going to leave and come back the next morning, keeping his promise to Allison that he’d stay beside her daughter. 

Once a room was given to (Y/N), Charlie managed to catch up on a little bit of sleep on the armchair next to her bed. The girl slept even through the morning light that slipped through the window that woke the sheriff up. He updated Allison on the persistent status of her daughter. Once again, the nurses showing kindness by bringing him a cup of coffee as he waited for (Y/N)’s eyes to open.

(Y/N) was engulfed in darkness during what felt like a second. She tried fluttering her eyes open but was met with a painfully bright light and a pulsating headache that rang through her body. Her eyes closed once again to try to minimize the discomfort, to much avail. She barely remembered what event befell her to end up in this situation, but she could hear she was not alone.

“Are the lights bothering you, (Y/N)?” Sheriff Swan spoke, noticing the girl had awoken. She promptly nodded and he stood up to turn off the lights as the room door opened. “All right, they’re off now. Hello, doctor.”

She tried opening her eyes again and was met with the most radiant eye color she had ever seen.

Golden.

<-Previous | Next ->

[shini--chan]

I have an idea! What would Allies do after finding out that their s/o have (another) stalker? It can be another yandere, a creep, ex, jealous coworker with bad intentions or even a serial killer.

And a good idea it is, my dear anon.

Yandere Allies – Feindling America

You were already fast asleep, snoozing away under the covers in your shared bedroom. He, on the other hand, was still wide awake and had decided to settle down in the living room to do some light reading. His insomnia was due to the usual reasons – too much caffeine, too much stress, too much curiosity to just let the day finish.

And because he was worried, intently, about you. There was somebody else trying to stick their grubby fingers in your shared life, and pry you apart. That was something he was absolutely sure off. After living so long, and becoming paranoid due to his position on the global stage, he knew very well when he was being watched.

There was something after you in particular, he didn’t like it.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of somebody moving in the bushes. A spike of adrenaline shot through his body, and for a moment he was tempted to storm about side and give that creep a hook. Yet a better idea came to mind – first to fire a warning shot.

He net his book aside and sauntered to one of the glass door to the balcony and gave the pane a few sharp knocks. It was enough to catch their attention. It was almost comical how the figure froze, and the hood swivelled in his direction. Alfred couldn’t identify them in any capacity – they wore non-script jeans and a grey hoodie along with a pair of gloves. But this was about digging up the war axe.

Grinning, he flipped the bird at them, and then proceeded to draw a thin line across his throat in an unmistakable message.

Alfred would see this as a chance to play hero. He would finally be able to prove to you how capable he is at protecting you, how attentive he would be when it would water down to your safety. Of course, he would make sure there would be a lot he wouldn’t catch wind off – it would be the instances where he would come off as an evil master mind or as a control freak that he would skilfully hide from you.

He might or might not elect to torture the fool that would be stalking you. For him, waterboarding that creep would be a method of stress relief. It would also drive home the point that nobody should dare try to get between him and his sweetie.

Canada

Besides you, your phone beeped for what must have been the twelfth time in the span of one minute. You sobbed harder and buried your face in his chest. Matthew calmly stroked your back, making quiet soothing noises as he held you close.

“(Ex) will have to leave you be someday. This can’t go on forever. One day that jerk will have to accept that you’re gone for good”, he told quietly, while cautiously shifting his position to a more comfortable one.

You were both on the backseat of his car, having sought sanctuary there after you started panicking upon seeing the messages. All the memories had started to overwhelm you, and you had gripped his arm as if it was the only thing that was preventing you from drowning.

“No, that won’t be the case. Before I met you, I tried to leave so often only to be lured back into it. It was only because I met you that I haven’t gone back”, you cried, gazing up at him with a tear-stricken face.

“Shh, I will think of something. There shall be hell to pay.”

Matthew would be concerned about your wellbeing first and foremost. He would cater to you, cuddle with you, sooth you. But don’t think that would mean he would go easy on you should you step out of line and try to flee from him. When he would say he would never let your ex take you back, he would be indirectly saying he would never allow you to leave him.

Naturally, he would be careful and avoid any explicit rhetoric stating that your place in the world is at his side, but the message would be there, hidden between the lines.

With the legal sway he would hold, he would easily have your ex punished in some capacity. This could range from a fine to a restrain order to spending some time in jail.

China

A scream pierced the silence of the night, followed by a yell as the attacker was swept off his feet. Yao didn’t hesitate to continue beating the culprit up, even though he was on the ground.

After all, this was a man that had just been a few milliseconds away from dragging you away and murdering you, after doing unspeakable things to you, things that couldn’t be lightly talked about in any context.

“So, you’re the vermin that has been butchering people left and right for the past four months. You’re just as disgusting as I expected”, Yao commented as he brought his foot down on his back in a harsh stamp.

You had taken seat on a tree stump that was standing by. The near death experience and the fight going on in front of you had utterly rattled you. You were numbly staring at the scene playing out, heads in your hands, whole body trembling and eyes wide blown.

He kicked the killer in the side and was rewarded was a grunt and a hiss: “And I’ll fucking kill you too.”

“Sure you will”, Yao drawled sarcastically and pressed the criminals head into the dirt. “Get used to the taste of it.”

Contrary to expectations, Yao would approach the situation of serial killer being after you calmy. Not because he wouldn’t care about you, but rather because he would be far to old to be surprised by such a – in his eyes – trivial thing. And because he would know that letting himself drown in anger or panic would just result in him making grave mistakes – ie. losing you.

Nevertheless, he would never be far off, lurking behind corners, just out of sight of you and the murderer. He would also scoure your online activity, searching for any suspicious doings from other users. Furthermore he would use the opportunity to learn more about you and your strengths and weaknesses.

England

“Ah, ah, ah. Keep your dirty paws off that”, Arthur chided Jane and firmly grabbed Jane by the ear, harshly tugging there. It wasn’t the most humane treatment of a mortal, that England knew very well. However, he was in a sour mood, your infuriating co-worker being one of the contributing factors to it. Besides, he hadn’t made it one of his life maximas to be nice.

“You dare”, she hissed. When he gave another sharp tug, she yelped and dropped your phone, showing one of your social media profiles. Jane Smithers was persistent, he would have to give her that. Yet that would just be her downfall because she had decided to use that trait to try to ruin your life.

“Oh yes I dare. I dare to not tolerate your disgusting behaviour. Between you and me, we’re going to have a very long talk about your morals.”

She snorted and grabbed his hand.

“I could sue you for sexual harassment. We’ll see if you’ll still be laughing then.”

Oh, he had expected such a threat to come from such a vile person as her. He chuckled lowly – did she really think she could best him when it came to anything.

“And then spend some time in the nick for lying to judge and jury. Don’t think you’d be able to weasel your way out of this. I’m the one here that can have your framed and believe me, I could get you a bloody life sentence.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending, before realisation dawned and she let out a harsh laugh.

“So that is how (l/n) did it. Slept the way to the top.”

“No. (Y/n) has talent, impeccable talent. So unlike you, my dearest never had to resort to the methods you were so kind to mentioned.”

Arthur would see it as his duty to protect you – your physical & mental wellbeing as well as your reputation. So of course he would go after any jealous co-worker that would try to ruin you to any extent. And as mentioned in the snippet above, he wouldn’t be exactly nice about it. Any means would do for him, as long as the risk of his machinations backfiring on him and you would be relatively low.

During the whole process, he would letting you know about everything. It would be his point of proving that the world is a horrible place and that you can only find solace in his company and attention.

France

Francis was in the kitchen when you came stumbling in, frazzled and panting as If you had just run a marathon. By the way your extremities were trembling and sweat dotted your forehead, he wouldn’t be surprised. The only question was why.

Aside from that, fear danced in your eyes, and that was the only further information he needed to know that something was wrong. Rushing forward, he scooped you in his arms, ignoring the coffee that he had been preparing, and asked you:

“What happened, ma cherie?”

Instead of answering, you leaned your head against his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his torso, taking heavy, laboured breaths, as if you were crying. That was when he realised that you were. It worried him.

Was this something that he had done? What had caused you to become so distressed? Was it something he could fix.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to”, he offered shakily, unsure about what he should do to cheer you up. How could he, when he didn’t know why you were in such a state?

Thankfully, you supplied him with an explanation, one that caused his concern to freeze to ice cold anger: “There is some creep following me. He grabbed my butt when I got off the bus.”

Whoever that devil was, he was going to have hell to pay,

Francis would be enraged that somebody would be so disrespectful of your boundaries and of the fact that you’re already taken. In the brief moments of his more intense bouts of fury, he might do something as rash as to track the creep down and bludgeon him with something, probably a newspaper.

However, his preferred method would be character assassination (this would work especially well if the culprit in question would have a high social status) and verbal abuse. In this case, his revenge could be long-winded and very elaborate.

Russia

The temperature of the corridor had dropped since the last time he had visited – a testimony to the bad insulation and the approaching winter. Ivan thought it did her justice. After all, she did deserve this after nearly kidnapping you.

Speaking of her, she was sitting near the bars when he approached and when she glimpsed him, she quickly scooted away. Clever; she had learned from what had occurred the last time.

“Come to taunt me again?”, she seethed, curling into a tight, haggard ball of fury. Understandable in her case, however he wouldn’t shed any tears or have any sleepless nights.

“As is customary. I have to elevate your boredom somehow”, he confirmed, grabbing a chair and seating himself opposite her.

She stared at the door at the end of the passage, hungerly tracing it and searching the shadows for any sign of you. Ivan derived pleasure from mocking her: “How foolish are to think I would have brought my lover with me? I didn’t the last few times so why should it any different now?”

“You’re so very attached to (y/n), so I had my hopes.”

“Then I’ll have to forever dash them. That I owe you.”

She snarled at this; face twisted to a nasty frown.

“You know, you and I aren’t so different. So it is even more hypocritical of you to claim the moral high ground. Does (y/n) know even half of the things you’ve done in the name of your love?”

“I detest the comparison. I walk free while you rot in solitude, unloved and unwanted. While you have done everything wrong, I have done what was right where it counted most. You go very far by suggesting anything else.”

Russia would be the one to act the most intense of all the allies. He would have had people that were dear to him ripped away from him in the past, so he invest a lot of energy in insuring that wouldn’t happen to you and him.

That would mean he would go up to 11 in this case. As in, he would either kill this person and dissolve their body in acid or feed it to the pigs. Or he would leave this other yandere to rot somewhere after having dragged them before court for a very showy trail to break their spirit.

[drxwsyni]

warehouse shenanigans w/ soft!yandere dabi x reader (predator/prey dynamic)

yes I did use yagami yato’s Dabi nickname. sue me.

warnings: implied stockholm and unhealthy relationship? (idk reader is chill with dabi’s tendencies)

_____

It wasn’t that you didn’t like being with Dabi. He took care of you, made sure that you felt loved and safe. More than anyone else had ever done.

But after so long, an undeniable truth did arise—you were bored.

A person could only stay cooped up in an apartment for so long. And while you did have plenty of entertainment, the need for something a little more exciting had taken root in your being.

So, it was how you found yourself in this predicament.

It didn’t take much running to stumble upon an abandoned warehouse. Dashing through the corridors, you broke off into a random storage room. There were large wooden crates, you utilizing them as an opportunity for a hiding spot. To secure your position, you pulled a piece of plywood overtop of the boxes, creating a concealed little nook.

And so you waited.

You knew Dabi had followed you here, because you only got about thirty feet away from his apartment before you heard him calling out to you. And while you recognized that distinct teasing in his voice, telling you that he knew you weren’t seriously trying to leave him, he still managed to instill a certain enticing fear in you.

Whether you actually lost him as you entered the warehouse, or if he was just holding back was beyond you. It didn’t matter, when the door to the room you were holed up in was unceremoniously kicked open.

Heavy boots sounded against the concrete floor, a clear identifier to who had made their entrance. Of course, his smug voice bouncing off the walls served the same purpose.

“C’mon out, sweetheart. I know you’re in here.”

You heard his footsteps delve deeper into the room. Slowly.

Menacingly.

The deep baritone of his voice sent chills down your spine, amplified by the echo given off by the fairly empty area. “Y’know, if you wanted to play that badly, you could’ve just said so.”

He wasn’t wrong, but you had a strange desire to push the man’s buttons. That, and you didn’t know if he’d let you do something this risky if you asked. Still, you kept silent, a hand clamped over your mouth in an attempt to stifle any noise.

It sounded like he was pushing things to the side. Searching every crevice, the noise of wood scraping against the floor meeting your ears.

“If you come out now, I’ll go easy on you when we get home….maybe.” Dabi snickered to himself, knowing full well how in for it you were the second he got his hands on you.

You could tell he was getting close, the rummaging nearing your position as he swept the room for your hiding spot.

Dabi was nothing if not dramatic at times like these.

The crates to your right were kicked over, the brittleness in the wood causing them to crumple under the impact. The commotion earned a frightened squeak from you, and the second it escaped your lips, you knew you had lost.

“Hm, what’s this?”

You didn’t have to be looking at Dabi to know that there was absolutely a shit eating grin plastered across his face. The thumping of your heartbeat picked up, anticipating what was to come.

Aside from his boots colliding with the concrete, a deafening silence overtook the room―until the low and threatening sound of his voice filled that void.

“Could it be….”

His footsteps came to a halt right next to your hiding place. The plywood was ripped from its spot.

“...a little mouse?”

Your gaze shot up, and they were met with Dabi leaning imposingly over your crumpled form on the floor. Blue and wild eyes pierced yours, holding nothing but danger.

Not a second went by before you were scrambling away, dead set on making a break for it. Or at least, that was until an arm snaked around your waist, hoisting you into the air.

“And just where do you think you’re going, huh?”

Your legs kicked around, unable to connect with anything while you were suspended. A fit of uncontrollable giggles escaped you as he playfully spun in a circle with you in his arms.

“Noooo, let me go!”

He laughed at your demand, the taunting lilt to it making you shiver. “Not gonna happen, sweet cheeks. You’re in big trouble.”

In mere seconds, Dabi had maneuvered you to be slung over his shoulder, surprising you once again with how strong he was.

“H-hey! It’s your fault for not bringing me anywhere, I mean you could’ve at least—”

You yelped when a hand came down on your ass to silence you, prompting you to squirm fruitlessly in his iron-like hold.

Dabi began heading for the exit of the warehouse as he spoke. “We’ve been over this, you’ve got everything you need back at the apartment.” He shifted you so that he could pin your still struggling legs down before continuing. “And maybe if you weren’t such a little brat, I’d actually be able to take you somewhere nice for a change.”

You perked up at the notion—not knowing that Dabi had ever actually considered letting you roam a little more freely. “Wait—really?”

He chuckled at your disbelief, pushing the front doors open. The cool air of the night hit your body, causing you to pull yourself closer to the heat radiating off of him.

“Yes, but before I let any of that happen, someone’s gotta learn their lesson on what happens when they misbehave.”

Unconsciously, you tensed at the notion, knowing his methods of reprimand would have you in for a long night. It wasn’t that Dabi would hurt you, it was just that he would take advantage of all your little weaknesses he’d come to observe. And you knew that he’d make you betray yourself in all the best ways, and somehow get you to enjoy it at the same time.

Sensing your bubbling anticipation, Dabi satisfyingly smiled to himself. He made his way through the deserted back streets, not bothering to put you down for fear of any more shenanigans.

Your fate was determined. You’d never be able to get away from him, and really, you didn’t want to.

“...Let’s get you home, little one.”

[neonponders]

Part 1 of this mafia_au here ~ nurse!Steve and mobster!Billy

• • • • • • •

The only reason Billy got a pair of cuffs on his wrists was because he went to the hospital. Hospitals were required to involve the police when suspicious wounds entered the building.

Now he lay patiently in his cell of the police station. Ironically, the safest place in town. Plus, Hopper did good work. Efficient. Billy knew he wouldn’t have to wait too long -

“Hargrove. You’re up.”

He swiveled his hips so his feet touched the ground, and rocked himself up to standing. The cop placed the handcuffs on his wrists through the sanctioned gap in the bars, and then opened the door. Billy strolled as contently as a handcuffed man could through the sterile, boring hallways between the cells and the interrogation room.

He sat once again in the steel chair, and waited some more.

This was an annoying tactic, making the person wait for a conversation. He supposed it worked on common people and smaller criminals, but Billy simply retreated back into his meditative space, where a full album of music played on loop...

The door opened, and he lifted his gaze to see Steve holding his file and warily looking between Billy and the seat opposite him.

Billy smiled much as he had the first time he woke up to Steve removing his blood transfusion needle. “Hi.”

Steve only sighed as he settled into his chair, and flicked annoyed eyes at him from behind his glasses. Billy liked his glasses. He also liked Steve without them.

“What’s your prescription?”

Steve blinked vacantly up at him. “Huh?”

Billy lifted his cuffed hands onto the table, one of them pointing, “Your glasses.”

Steve stared at him, and then his irises distinctly cut to the side. Billy’s own flicked to his ears, where he could just see an earpiece hiding beneath his hair.

“I probably don’t have to tell you this,” Steve listened to Hopper’s patient drone, “but the fewer questions he asks to you, the better. Don’t let him distract you.”

He swallowed thickly and took out the pictures inside of the file. “Do you know these people?”

Billy cast his attention over the images and knocked two of them back toward the file. “Those two don’t matter. The red-head is a test. To see how honest I’ll be. It’s my stepsister.”

Steve began to tuck the images back into a neat pile, but his gaze lingered on the teenager while he listened to the voice in his ear. Then, “She’s missing.”

“No, she isn’t. She’s at a safe house. And no, they don’t get to know where that is.”

Steve didn’t give that much of a response as he began sifting through the papers - 

“I don’t read quickly!” he shouted at the two-way mirror.

That caught Billy off-guard. But a moment later, he turned his head to laugh into his bicep. He could just picture Hopper harrumphing under his mustache.

“Is that legal?”

Billy perked up. “What? A safe house?” He shrugged. “A person on my property with my permission? Yeah.”

Steve slumped a little to the side. “With their permission?”

He shrugged again. “She gets out of school for a week. She’s thrilled.”

“Is there documentation of this place?”

Billy smiled. “Somewhere.”

A sigh heaved out of Steve as he bowed his head and started rummaging through his hair. Billy couldn’t blame him; a full week of shifts at the hospital and then Hopper probably interrogated him before allowing him to be in the room with Billy. Steve would certainly be at the end of his limits.

“Why? Why why why why,” he lifted his head for his brassy-gold glasses to be hanging low on his nose, “why am I here, Billy? You already know everything that’s in this folder.”

“I wanted to see you,” he said softly. Then he leaned forward and purred, “They handle me roughly here. I think my stitches might’ve tore.”

“Well you’re gonna be screwed in prison, and you’re way too pretty to survive that place - ”

“I wanted to see you. Sue me.”

“What are my chances?”

“Not great. My lawyers are excellent.”

Steve’s eyes squinted dramatically with thought as he pushed his glasses back up and leaned back in his chair. “Hmm...”

Billy wiggled a little as a grin flashed across his face. “You’re still my nurse until my stitches are out.”

Those large doe eyes widened. He gestured around the room. “Whatever this is, is outside of my pay grade and degree. Now how about you walk me through what happened.”

A lingering smile kept Billy’s features warm. Steve had said as much in the hospital, after the doctor stormed out of his private room and probably reported his ass to these people.

“On Wednesday, May 2nd, I got wind that someone was looking too closely at my stepsister. She already has some little nobody for a boyfriend so I knew this was something different. I told her to spend the weekend with him, and don’t go home. Either I pick her up, or she stays put. 

“She listens as well as I do.

“Come Saturday, May 5th, at...” his clear, turquoise eyes sparked off the harsh fluorescent light as he calculated, “7pm, give or take, I’m intervening a simultaneous breaking and entering, assault and battery, and kidnapping/hostage situation. Boyfriend is knocked out on his stoop. House is empty of parents because - well, teenagers.”

Steve tipped his head to that, understanding how teens would manage to be alone in a house together.

“I get my arm shredded and my aorta is almost sliced open, but by all means, hold me in custody instead of going after the other side of this ordeal.”

Steve glanced nervously at the window when Billy raised his voice at it. “Also, the boyfriend is black. I haven’t heard a word about him.” He leaned back with a blatant, derisive scoff. “Pigs believing they’re better than wolves.”

“Saturday?”

Billy’s sharp gaze locked onto him even though his voice matched Steve’s quieter tone. “Saturday.”

“Which would mean you were in the hospital until Tuesday.”

He nodded once. “Discharged at 1pm - ”

Steve’s shoulders hitched when Hopper swept through the door behind him. The nurse looked almost like a teenager next to the bear of a man licking his finger to move through the file pages quickly.

Billy’s feet found Steve’s under the table, pushing them together to frame them in between his own. Steve peered at him, a question in his eyes but Billy waited for Hopper to find what he wanted.

Steve could only lean out of the man’s way as he slammed a hand on the table, shut the file with more force than paper or card stock ever needed, and then marched out of the room. His bellow reverberated down the hallway. “GOD DAMNIT, HE HAS AN ALIBI!”

Billy kept his snicker to a minimum while Steve took his time processing that. “An alibi for what?”

He lifted his hands to scratch his nose. “Something I wasn’t there for, clearly.”

Steve gaped at him and hunched over the table. “But - wha- Your sister? Was that all bullshit?”

“Hopper makes me wait all the time.”

His back hit the chair once again as he shoved his fingers into his hair. “Oh my god, you’re so petty.”

Billy chuckled as a pair of officers came in and ushered them out of the room. Billy was pushed into a chair in the large cubicle room to work through his check-out process. Steve wasn’t far off, stuck at a similar desk doing basically the same thing.

Then all of the phones went off simultaneously. Some of the cops looked around at each other while picking up the receiver...

The room swiftly cleared by two-thirds, but Hopper returned to stand between Billy and Steve’s desks. The latter waited with tired eyes while the former fidgeted with the chain hanging between his wrists.

“Steve...the nurse on your routes was just murdered.”

That...didn’t quite land yet, until Billy mumbled, “You’re welcome.”

Steve’s head whipped around while Hopper scowled. “You’re not going anywhere. Not without a goddamn tracking anklet.”

Billy shook his head once, indifferent. “I have a fine taste for jewelry.”

Hopper couldn’t linger to deal with him, though. He ran out of the room to get to the situation at the hospital.

Steve could only slump back in the itchy upholstery of his chair. Eventually, Billy chimed, “You look good in your hot pink scrubs.”

The nurse’s head slowly turned. “How did you know?”

He found Billy with all of his weight on the arm rest, pointed entirely at Steve until he turned his face away. He gradually reclined back in his chair. “It’s my job to know.”

Steve was so tired. He felt worry for his kids in the hospital, apologetic for the rest of the staff, and just so, so confused...

“I’m just a nurse.”

Whatever Billy took from that, he replied, “You took care of me and made me laugh. I’m easy to please.”

[smutty-ki113r]

I woke up to my alarm tellin me to get out of bed and so naturally I checked your tumblr and I'm,,, concerned

There's a small anon war over what hoodie smells like and I have no sense of smell whatsoever so I'm not contributin, but, leafs.

Petition to change the plural of leaf to leafs instead of leaves. Leaves is an ugly ass word. Leafs just rolls of the tongue, its nicer, its what the people want

Also the same with sheep like what, why is the plural the same, I refer to them as sheeps cuz it makes me happy

Also I don't like the y/n either because "y/n" is usually a whole ass person all in itself. And they're usually a girl in most fanfic, along with the fact that they are the Mariest Sue That Ever Mary Sue'd.

I've been considerin why LJ is my favourite and I think it's purely because if any of the more sane (Masky, Toby, Slenderman, etc) took one fuckin GLANCE they would run away. I have hope that clown boy is too far gone to care about my mental state too much.

If you squint real hard my braincell count looks like a normal amount

I'm so exhausted I'm gonna talk to you, my favourite online human, because the blue light from my phone keeps me awake.

But I think my favourite dynamic ever is Rivals to Lovers™. Not enemies to lovers, cuz enemies have two different goals in mind; whereas rivals compete for the same thing.

I'm a sucker for medieval shit so,, a scene that's been annoying me all day is~

you're invited to a Royal Ball (because isn't that how all romances start these days, just roll with it brother) and you go, finding out it's a masquerade ball. You get there, you dance, being passed from person to person in a never ending loop of jewel-embeded skirts that were swept across the marble floor of the (obscenely) bedazzled castle, and suits that seemed more expensive than you were.

Regret never came because the wine chased it away; it flowed in waterfalls into your glass, the scent of it filling the room but not enough to drown out the everlasting smell of expensive perfume. Sometimes the odor of it clung to the women of the ball tighter than their corsets. The massive drapes were pulled back, latching to the wall in attempt to keep them from falling and blocking the view–of which captured your gaze immediately. The doors were swung open to let the air in, and ensuring that no glass got in the way of what lay beyond; the moon, full and impossibly heavy hung, stranded in the crisp night air. The moon was the only one that didn't judge the events that took place in the ballroom that night, the only thing watching the crowd of people with a pure, impassive gaze.

Because later that night, after multiple drinks had been passed around and a cacophony of laughter, dancing, and food had been consumed–after many glasses of wine had passed your lips and your body– of which was feeling tingly and impishly confident–had wandered to a far corner, darkened by the domed ceiling, seemingly on its own accord. In that moment you would give everything to stay in the Palace, to twirl until your feet blistered and you withered away into old gnarled bones and ashes that could still dance with the wind.

"I do hope that you know well what you wish for; not for clarity of the concept, my dear, but for clarity of consequence." The voice that spoke in your ear was deep, low, and held even darker undertones. It siezed your attention and captured it in both hands, strangling the curiosity out of you. It had come from your right, even further into the pitch-black corner, but as soon as you moved all the thoughts in your head sloshed about, banging against the interior of your head. It was either equivelant to that or a sledge hammer, one of the two. The wine was probably just twisting the voice's around you, making them appear. You tried to convince yourself but alas, even you deemed it vastly unlikely.

Turning around was more difficult then you planned. Just when you thought you would see the owner of the voice, nobody was there. Yep, probably just the abundance of alcohol making you dizzy.

Shifting back to dancing wasn't hard; it was as if you were floating down along a stream, merely following wherever the river took you. Voices pressed against you on all sides, soon becoming a background noise too, a faint buzzing sound. It rose and fell like the waves, ever-changing in volume.

You started to lose a grip on reality; eyes fluttering closed as you danced, just taking a breath of air, letting the delicate night wash away your worries, who you wer–

What the fuck!?

You did a double take, eyes now wide fucking open, because outside you spied someone that had to be atleast a foot taller than anyone else in the ball. The darkness seemed to congregate behind it, flourishing, and the only thing you could see was a wide smile and a pair of eyes.

It seemed that you couldn't get enough air into your lungs, couldn't focus; the voice's that used to be hazy surround sound was now piercingly loud the people were just too much, everywhere at once. Your breathing only picked up even more as you gripped your chest.

The.. Demon had disappeared by the time you glanced upward, you you scurried outside, barely making it before you collapsed on a golden railing. There were fine drops of rain scattered about, eluding to the fact it had rained earlier. Your masquerade costume was getting wet, leaning against the railing, but you were so dizzy you didn't care.

It was the wine, it had to be. Nobody could be that tall, it–it was humanly impossible. Moving was now akin to attempting to romp through thick syrup; a stagnant pace, uncoordinated, unsteady. Then it stopped. There was a hand on your shoulder.

You skimmed the person; they had a dark blue suit that sparkled with the occasional gold highlights, with a blue mask covering their face–it seemed that it covered all of their face, and didn't quite match what a masquarade mask should look like, but you didn't care. The support was welcomed.

"You seemed as if you required help, my Lady," He said, his voice deep and low, so much so that you questioned if you would even be able to hear him over the music blaring in the ballroom if the two of you were to venture back inside.

You looked back to where you saw the tall being, with its eyes and smile that seemed wrong, and wrong in a terrible, dangerous way.

"Care to dance with me?" You asked, relieved when he slipped his arm with yours and led you inside. The music had slowed to a waltz, nothing like the big parade of dancers that came in flurries of colour and left just as fast. His arms were solid and a comfort, welcome as the breeze on a sunny day. It felt like he protected you from everything that might have caught you off guard, in a way. Plus, he kept you from falling flat on my face, which is always a good thing.

The song changed and you were about to ask him for something else; his name, maybe, but fate had other plans. Both of you were bumped and somebody else had picked you up in their arms, hands landing on your waist as the dance consumed you. Your mystery man in blue was gone, it seemed, and you sighed. Being safe was a hard thing to ask. Instead, above you now was a man dressed in dark browns and yellows– he had a rather strange mask that curled around his mouth and eyes, leaving the centre free. His brown locks looked ruffled and messy and he jerked every once in a while, moving sporadically. It didn't stop and he didn't seem to be able to control it so you didn't mind. The slight jolts emitting from him caused you to wake up more, which was always welcome.

"Are you okay?" You asked, after his gaze had wandered elsewhere. It came back to you in a heartbeat, and you sensed be was smiling under the mask.

He twirled you, spinning you gracefully. "Of course I am," he said, coming in close again. "For now, I'm winning."

The night surged on quickly and you found yourself caught between multiple strangle figures; a woman with silky black hair and a mask that made her eyes appear the same colour, that offered you a drink that wasn't wine. A man that had offered you wine, that stood next to the big buffet table with a full glass and a white mask. He had stood with a black-masked man, but he weaved through the crowd until he was another string in a pile of wool. Your blue mystery man made another appearance, but not with you–he was talking in low tones with another man (you didn't mind that they were mostly men; seemingly just because it never occurred to you that they might be connected) who had black hair, like the other woman, and pale white skin. The palest you'd seen in a long time. However, at that moment, he had looked up and seen you staring, only for you to catch scars at the ends of his mouth. You crossed it down to makeup or a deformity of some kind. Through all this, you were atleast grateful you didn't see the tall being again.

And everything carried on. Until it didn't. Blood stained the carpet black and the screams were too loud to ever fade away, seeming to shake the walls. You had tried to run from it, from them, but you tripled in a hallway and couldn't even get up because of your many glasses of alcohol. Struggling was futile and someone easily pulled you back.

With horror you realised it was one of the men from before; you recognised the scruffy brown hair and occasional movements. He held you there, between life and death a moment more, a moment where all the men you'd seen that night, and the woman, came around the corner. Their voices were distorted to your damaged ears but your eyes focused on the tall being; he was real, and black and white, with hands that weren't normal and a nose that was even less so. They're all abnormal, your consciousness whispered to you, and you believed it. The man on top of you grinned, happy that he had caught you. Your stomach turned.

"Bring them to the Mansion," a voice ring out in your head. Your 'companions' seemed to hear it too. "And bring them alive."

As you can see I've never written anythin in my life so this is shit lmfao but I don't care an im just here to brainstorm anyways

Have my little scene, take it, because it was fun to do. It's not spellchecked, I've not read through it, because I can't be bothered, so if anythin is wrong laugh and move on brother. Also tryin to write without cuttin off the g from my words and shortenin them was so hard so halfway through I didn't bother lmao

I think this is my longest message yet so, sorry about that Red

Cheers if you actually made it this far.

–Kieran.

I agree. Leafs is better. SHEEPS- thats the cutest thing I’ve ever heard and I love it.

Y/n is a stereotype in itself so I agree, it’s usually ya know, the whole “im different” kind of chick who can do everything and anything (basically bella from twilight), when in reality the reader is human and humans have imperfections. Lots of ‘m …LJ is my fav for a lot of reasons, at this point he’s a comfort to me. Plus, I (oml) relate to him so much, and I can do a post about this- if someone cares or asks. And I have similar traumaaa

Oh geez, I’m your favorite online human, AGH my heart, again, its burning. I agree, RIVALS TO LOVERS SOUNDS SO SOSOSOOSO GOOD I LOVE IT. (I would say my fav trope is “lovers who ache to be together but due to circumstance one starts to lose feeling for the other and it’s an agonizing pain to the other” or maybe that’s just me because I find completion in sadness, which is horrific. But I really itch to angst.)

Here’s me reading your scene and also talking about it at the same time. ‘Regret never came because the wine chased it away’…that’s a good line, thats a good line. The way you just take one thing and mash it with another aspect like wow. Like as each idea were droplets of water on a leafs and you happen to tilt it, connecting them so effortlessly. I’m jealous. The descriptions are amazing, and how you make it the reader’s thought process-damn. I WANNA WRITE THIS GOOD, YALL OUTSHINE ME. And then you say this was shit. *slaps you* DONT YOU DARE UNDESESTIMATE YOURSELF MISTER

Also the way you just subconsciously cut off the g’s is spectacular. I try to, but it’s hard for me. SORRY? SORRY?! Nononono thank you, because the longer the message the better. Apart from the fact that long messages make me happy, especially from you, it means you put time into talking to me! Which makes me super happy too. Heheheh. Thank you love! This made my morning, along with that drawing submission from cam anon, you should check it out! It’s really good.

[jj-lynn21]

How A Girl Must Live Ch 5

Ch. 5: Family

  Ch1: A place for singles , Ch 2: Popular  Ch 3:Opening up   Ch 4: Dating  Ch 6 Violence begets Violence  ch 7 Love Birds

taging: @super-pink-a-palouza @luciferreads @glasglowgrin @loomiz @princessloveme123 @hornyhetero @taintedglass @bohemian-brian​ @maryan028 , @scxrsgxrd, lizziejorgie,  @waywardtigersandwich​    @michellarobinsonmoonchou @graceroarkc @yung-dumb-punk-barbie @geourajonedisco​

Warnings: fluff, mild smut,

“We should be at your family home soon Miss Samantha Anne Davenport.” Willard seemed to hum her name as he spoke. “Any topics to stay away from. I didn’t ask what your Father does for a living.”

After she told him her full name at the Soda Shoppe she didn’t realize he would actually use it. It was odder to her that she like it. “My Mother, Ruby Sue, like your Mother does not like anyone in the household to take the Lords name in vain. I do hope you attend church with us Sunday.”

“For you I will.” He takes one hand off the wheel to hold her hand. He brings it up to kiss each knuckle. 

She smiles. “I appreciate that Mr. Willard Abraham Russel.”  

“Tell me about your Father.” Willard prodded again.

“He goes off to work at the savings loan bank every morning.” She said proudly. “He told me once he helps peoples dreams come true.”

“That sounds like a wonderful job.” Willard thought about his best dream of late, just making Sam’s dreams come true. “I’ll have to talk to him about some dreams I have.”

“If anyone can help you, he can.” She points to a two-story brown home with cream trim. “There it is Willard. There is home.”

As soon as Willard turns into the driveway her parents step out to greet them happily. “This is much nicer than where I grew up. I bet you have indoor plummin’ and everything.”

As soon as Willard parks, Samantha opens the door and runs to her parents hugging them both. “I missed home more than you can ever imagine.”

“We missed you to.” They said in unison hugging her back.

Willard grabbed Samantha’s suitcase from the back seat before walking up slowly. He didn’t want to break up the family reunion too quickly. He was nervous about talking to her Father. He was nervous her Father would not want his city girl to be involved with a man from the backwoods hills of Coal Creek, West Virginia.

“Who’s your friend, Samantha?” Her Father looks Willard up and down studying him closely as Willard fidgets.  

She steps back threading her arm threw Willard's that is holding her suitcase. “Father, Mother, this is Mr. Willard Russel.”

Her Father stuck out his hand to check Willard’s grip and get a feel for the man’s character. “Good to meet you Mr. Russel.”

“Good to meet you also, Sir, Mr. Davenport.” He shook the man’s hand firmly.

“I hope you do plan to stay for dinner Mr. Russell.” Her Mother plastered a smile on her face.

“Thank you, Mrs. Ruby Sue.” Willard follows everyone into the house. “I would like that very much. Where should I put Miss Samantha’s suitcase?”

“Come now Samantha, you can help me finish dinner while your Father and Mr. Russel talk in the den.” 

“Yes, Mother.” Samantha scurried off with her Mother.

“I got it Mr. Russel.” Mr. Davenport takes the suitcase in one hand and opens the den door with the other. “Just wait for me in here. Have a drink from the bar if you wish.”  

“Thank you, Sir.” He goes in looking around the large room. It is almost as large as the whole house he grew up in.

There is a large dark cherry wood desk in front of a bay window with some papers stacked neat at the corner. A chair behind the desk and in front of it. And two leather recliners across from where he walked in. A loveseat that matches the recliners between them. The bar is to the right of where Willard walks in the room across from the desk area a few feet.

He decides not to get a drink as he crosses the room to sit on the loveseat to wait for Samantha’s Father. He tries to go over what he wants to say in his head trying to sound respectful and true. Willard stands as Mr. Davenport walks in the room.  

“Don’t get up on my account Mr. Russel.” Mr. Davenport goes to pour a scotch. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink? This is top shelf scotch.”

“No thank you, Sir.” Willard rubs his hands over each other. “I just want to...”

The man puts up his hand. “All I need to know is if you care about my daughter.” He paced as he continued. “She is going to be nineteen this year. I was hoping she would find a proper suitor at that resort. Mr. Jones says you are a good worker that has been with the resort awhile. I trust his instincts. So, are you serious about my daughter, Mr. Russel?”

“Yes, yes Sir.” Willard nodded enthusiastically.  

“Where are you from?” Samantha’s father continued to interrogate Willard.

“Coal Creek, West Virginia.” He answered. “I haven’t been home since the War ended since I was able to get the job at the resort. I would like to go introduce Samantha to my Kin.  Eventually, I’d like a home somewhere between here and there. Find a good job to support my family of course.”

“You have my blessing, Mr. Russel.” Mr. Davenport finished his scotch. “I’ll tell you what, when you decide to marry my daughter, I’ll set you up with a starter home with two-bedrooms, kitchen, living room and lots of land around it in Knockemstiff, Ohio. I think that is between both families. I can even set you up with a job at the local slaughterhouse if you don’t mind working hard for your money.”

“Wow,” Willard was pleasantly surprised. “I would love that. As long as Miss Samantha cares about me as much as I do her, we will be hitched by the end of the month”

“Splendid, my boy.” Mr. Davenport opened the den door. “Let’s go see what the ladies have prepared for us. Samantha and her Mother are both great cooks and Samantha has won first place twice with her cherry pies.”

Willard follows the man out down the hall towards a delicious aroma. When he finds his way into the dining room, he never saw so much food. There was bread on the table, country fried steaks on a huge platter, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy. “This looks great. Where should I sit?”

“I have a cherry pie in the oven so save room.” Mrs. Ruby Sue told the men. “It is not quite as good as my daughter’s, but it will do. Sit at the other head of the table young man. I hope you like country fried steak.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mr. Russel sat down.  

“Father, I hope you didn’t grill Mr. Russel to hard.” Samantha sat down close to her man or who she was hoping would want to be.

“I approve of your relationship, sweetheart if that is what you are truly asking.” Her Father smiled. “I talked to Mr. Jones who had nothing but great things to say about Mr. Russel. He is a fine young man for you.”

Samantha blushed. But she was also happy her father approved of Willard. She was starry eyed as she looked at Willard. He smiled at Samantha like a lovesick puppy. Willard followed the family’s lead as they held hands to pray. It felt odd to him. He had not prayed or went to church in years.  

They mostly sit quietly to eat other than politely asking each other to pass food. “I’ll be taking my leave after dinner.” Willard brought up as he ate a piece of cherry pie. “This is very good pie Mrs. Ruby Sue.”

“Well, Thank you Mr. Russel.” She smiled as she and Samantha collected the dishes.

Willard gets up from the table.minutes later. “I will be taking my leave for the night. I would like to call on Samantha tomorrow night if it is alright with you both.”  

“Of course, young man.” Mr. Davenport patted him on the back. “If you need a place to stay, I believe Miss Rose has a room open at her boarding house on the corner south and kingdom street.”

“Thanks Mr. Davenport.” He turned to head out the door.

Samantha’s Mother whispered, “walk him out dear. Go on.” She nudged her daughter.  

Samantha rushed over to Willard’s side. “Can I walk you out, Sir.”  

He turns smiling at her. “I would like that.” He takes her hand and opens the front door. They walk slowly out into the starry evening. “I will get some rest at the boarding house and go wrap things up at the resort tomorrow. I have one more check comin’. Then I will come back here and wisk ya away anywhere you want. So be thinkin’ about that.”

She turns in front of him at the door of his car. “I’ll be thinking about what I want all night.” As she said it, she could not believe her own words, flirtatious demeanor and thoughts leaning towards the lustful desire to kiss him before he prompted it.  

Willard took her hands and smiled. “No one will ever hurt you again Sam.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I will see you tomorrow evening for a proper date.”  He took his hands from hers slowly, got in his car and left.  

Samantha stood dreamily watching him drive away. Her heart pounding. Her mind racing to thoughts of being closer to him, His hands drifting down her body...”

“Honey come on and help your Mother with dishes.” Her Father yelled from the door. “I am sure your boyfriend will be back tomorrow night as he said he would.”

“Coming Father.” She ran inside to help with the dishes and with other chores before bed.  

Willard found the boarding house easily. Miss Rose was happy to give him a room at only a dollar a day for as long as he needed it. He slept for only a few hours before waking up in cold sweat from nightmares. Every battle he fought, and Gunnery Sergeant Miller Jones stripped of his skin hung on a cross covered in bugs plagued his dreams.

But also, a new fear swept over his mind. The thought that others wanted to hurt his girl. He could not save all his fellow soldiers, but he would sure as hell not let anyone hurt his girl ever again. He showered before hoping in his car to go take care of a few things.

He arrived at the resort right after the breakfast hour. He knocked on Mr. Jones’ office door. He was anxious since he never came back with Miss Samantha the day before and had been rough with Mr. Preston.  

“Come.” Mr. Jones stated solemnly.  

Willard entered taking his hat off. “Sir, I’m sorry I never came back with Miss. Samantha yesterday.” He fingered the brim of his hat. “There was another incident with her and one of the boys again. I thought it best to get her home safely.”  

Mr. Jones twisted his mouth in contemplation before speaking. “I heard you roughly grabbed Mr. Preston. I knew there had to be a reason for it, but I also told you one more incident and you would no longer be working here.”

“Yes Sir.” Willard stood up straighter walking up to the edge of Mr. Jones desk. His hands plant on the edge. “I’m sorry I disappointed you Sir. But I would pull Mr. Preston off any girl he was attacking. That kind of behavior is never alright.”

Mr. Jones stood, eyeing Mr. Russel directly. “I agree with you, but you could have yelled for him to stop. Tell him the consequence of his actions. And brought him directly to my office.” His voice was stern. “I will talk to Mr. Preston when he is back on grounds. He has a day pass with a few other boys to hang out in town. Because Mr. Davenport called to thank us for introducing his daughter to such a fine young man, I will give you your full last check. I hope you take care of her Willard. Clean out your room before leaving.” He sat back down and got out his check book to write a check to Willard for $50. He handed it to him.

“I will protect Miss Samantha with my life Mr. Jones.” Willard said ecstatically as he was leaving. “Thank you for letting me work here the last five year.”

“I wish you the best young man.” He shook his head when Willard shut the door. He was going to have to kick out another student this summer. He didn’t know how these boys were being raised to get here and think they could treat young ladies inappropriately.  

Mrs. Sally came in a few minutes' later. Her husband seemed so stressed. She locked the office door before comforting him on her knees. She knew that always helped him feel better. And she loved him calling her his good girl.

[coyotesongwriting]

When It Rains, It Pours - Ch. 4

Avengers - Bucky Barnes/Reader

Chapter 4 - Aspen

Story Summary:  Things are going great between you and Bucky, until one day they aren’t. He dumps you, not knowing that what you’d wanted to talk to him about was the positive pregnancy test you held behind your back.

Chapter Summary: It’s time

Author’s Note: Thank you guys for reading this! All mistakes are my own!

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Tag List (if you want to be added or removed let me know!):    @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @queenoftheunderdark  @samsgoddess @redfoxwritesstuff​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @fookingmuffins​ @yasnooshka24​ @redfoxwritesstuff​ @amazon-belle​ @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven​ @kinkywitchy​ @superwonderwholock​

Not sure why tumblr is bugging out but it won’t let me tag @avengemari, I’ll keep trying to tag ya though!

Previous Chapter

Thor had arrived back from Midgard with a huge box of books, and you were so excited. You swore he’d bought two of every maternity and medical book he was able to find in the store. When you’d laughed and asked why he’d got two copies, he shrugged and explained that one copy was for you, and one was for the library. Since you were staying and would be raising your child there, it only made sense that they had books available for the healers and midwives to study. 

You’d become overly emotional in the last few weeks, and you’d begun to sob into his chest as you hugged him. Thor merely laughed and ruffled your hair once you’d calmed down. You’d missed him while he was gone, but it had given you and Loki a chance to really bond. Thanks to the late night mentoring, the two of you had been close but while Thor was gone, he really stepped it up.

You’d begun to think of Loki as just as much of a brother to you as Thor was. You were still training with Lady Sif and the Warriors Three every day, but Loki was always nearby, never letting you out of his sight. He worried about the pregnancy more than you did, and it was honestly pretty endearing. You had never realized how much he cared about you until then. 

Bitra was pleased when you and Thor had arrived to bring her a copy of the pregnancy books and she’d read them all in no time. Apparently, Midgardian pregnancy actually was similar to Asgardian which relieved the both of you. It was like a weight was taken off your shoulders when you realized you didn’t need to worry as you had been. If it had continued much longer, you’d have had to ask Thor to take you back to Midgard for a checkup.

As summer rolled into autumn, Thor returned to his regular schedule of once a week visits to the Avengers. Every time, he offered to bring you along with him and every time you said no, merely asking him to tell the others you were doing well. They sent you their love, and once, Nat even sent you the beautiful necklace she’d found that you might like.

Bucky had been scarce since you left, and it seemed like he was getting sent on more missions than ever while the others suddenly had less. When Steve finally confronted Fury, asking what was going on he learned that Bucky had requested to be out in the field more often. He’d claimed that he’d been feeling too cooped up lately. 

It had taken Nat and Clint a while to be willing to work with him again as they had before, but eventually, Thor had managed to convince them to give up the ghost. They both held a grudge against the man who’d broken your heart, but if what Thor said was true you truly were doing alright now.

Even though Thor was making frequent trips, Loki never joined him anymore. Instead, he remained behind and looked after you. As your due date grew closer, Loki became more and more like a mother hen. When you were eight months pregnant, he began to argue with you about the fact that you were still training or really, anything you did that required you doing anything physical. As your pregnancy had progressed, you’d started training less and less and now you did barely any every day, just some basic knife throwing, but he found even that to be too much. 

“Please sit down, Lady [Y/N” Loki plead, pointing at a garden bench.

It was a lovely autumn day, and you had gone for a stroll in the gardens to enjoy the cool breeze. Unfortunately, Loki had followed you to the garden and you hadn’t even been out for five minutes before he began to pester you to take a rest. 

You whirled on him, finally having had enough. The look on your face was pure murder as you shoved your hand into his chest, pushing him back. His eyes opened wide as he watched you.

“If you don’t shut up Loki I swear I will kill you! I am pregnant, not injured! If I want to go for a stroll in the garden, I will damn well do so” you spat, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry. I just worry for you” he sighed, “I don’t want anything to happen to you or your child.”

Seeing the sad look on his face, a small frown crept across your face and you swept him up into a hug, “I know. But you need to trust me here. I feel totally fine, okay? If I didn’t, I would take a break. I know my body, okay?” 

After a long pause, his arms wrapped around you to return the hug. You stayed that way for a long moment before you stepped back and held out your arm. With a small smile, he hooked his arm in yours and the two of you went on a tour of the gardens, this time he only asked you to take a break every ten minutes.

~~~~~~

On November 14, you welcomed your little girl into the world. The birth had gone perfectly, and Bitra couldn’t have been prouder of you. Thor had been there to hold your hand through the whole thing, though he later swore that you broke his hand. She was the spitting image of her father and looking down at her for the first time your heart tightened. She had his brown hair, and looking into her eyes you swore you felt like you were looking straight at Bucky. You smiled softly down at her, tears in your arms as you cuddled her close and thought about her father.

“What are you going to call her?” Lady Sif had come to see you, and she was so excited to welcome the little one into their ragtag group.

“Her name is Aspen” your voice was gentle as you watched her sleep.

You’d named her after the town where you’d fallen in love with Bucky. The two of you had been sent on a mission to track a potential Hydra agent, and you’d had to pretend to be a honeymooning couple in the ski town. You’d spent the weekend curled up in the lobby of the lodge with him, and that had been that. The way he looked at you sometimes during that mission, you’d forgotten that you two weren’t really on your honeymoon.

“A strong name for a strong warrior” Lady Sif laughed softly, “I look forward to training with you properly once you’re feeling better, [Y/N]. It will be interesting to see how you do!”

You let out a low groan and threw your head back against the pillow, you were exhausted and the mere idea of training was too much for you right now. Sif merely grinned mischievously and headed out after patting you on the shoulder.

“You have a beautiful daughter” Loki had finally come to see you, and he smiled down at you sadly. He’d become your confidante over the last few months, and he understood just how much you missed Bucky. If anyone had asked you a year ago if you could ever imagine considering Loki family you’d have laughed in their face. Time had a way of changing things though.

You scooted over carefully, tired and sore and he climbed into bed next to you. He sat next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you rested your head on his chest. You smiled down at your baby girl, “Hear that sweetie? Uncle Loki thinks you’re pretty.”

Tears welled in your eyes and began to roll down your cheeks, getting Loki’s shirt damp, as you thought of Bucky. Loki ignored the tears and began to hum a soft lullaby. You were almost asleep when you swore you heard him whisper, “I’m sorry” but before you could respond, you were out like a light.

When you awoke the next day to Aspen’s crying, Loki was long gone. Bitra arrived to help you out as you learned tips on raising your baby girl, and you soon forgot all about his late-night apology.

~~~~~~

Thor was a day late to his usual meeting with the team. He’d waited to make sure you were alright before he left, and even then he only did so once you’d sworn to have Heimdall get him if you needed anything. He promised that he’d be back as soon as he could, and had left at first light.

When Thor entered the tower, he couldn’t stop smiling. The sight of you and Aspen together was enough to leave him grinning like a fool. The lounge was almost empty at the early hour, only Clint was present.

“What’s got you in a good mood?” Clint grumbled, clutching his coffee cup and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Lady [Y/N] -” he started, but caught himself. Only, he didn’t know what to say next and froze. 

“What about her?” Clint was suddenly awake, “Is she okay?”

“Er, yeah. No, she’s great” he stumbled over his words, “Nope she’s fine, great, nothing to worry about there. She’s just at home. Yep. Just at home with the others. Nothing weird there.”

Clint narrowed his eyes, “Yeah that’s not suspicious at all. Thor, you better tell me the truth. If something’s wrong with her and you don’t tell me, I’ll kill you.”

Nat walked in just in time to hear Clint and she whirled on Thor, “What’s wrong with [Y/N]?” her voice was hard.

“She’s fine, I swear. She’s just at home, resting” Thor explained, cursing himself internally.

“Yeah, I’m not buying that. Okay, buddy. I think we’ve given her enough space” Clint said, getting to his feet, “Let’s go see her, I need to see she’s okay.”

Thor frowned, “I’m sorry Clint, but Lady [Y/N] has specifically requested I not bring any visitors.”

Clint narrowed his eyes, “Look, no one we know but you has seen or heard from her in months. How in the hell are we supposed to know you’re telling the truth? For all we know, she’s not doing well at all.”

“You must know I would not lie to you” Thor sighed, “But Lady [Y/N] has made her wishes perfectly clear and I would dare not go against her. Not in this matter” he rubbed his hand, which was still aching from your grip.

“What’d [Y/N] say?” Steve asked as he walked in and leaned against the counter, watching Thor curiously.

“That she does not want visitors and I am not to bring any of you with me to Asgard” he explained.

Steve sighed, “Still? It’s been seven months, Thor. Surely she can’t still mean that. When did she tell you no visitors?”

“Last night.” Thor’s voice was steady and slightly sad. He didn’t like keeping secrets from the team but he’d do it for you.

“Seriously? What’s going on with her, Thor. Please. Is she really okay? I’m worried about her” Nat sighed, stealing Clint’s coffee mug. 

“I swear on my honor, Natasha. Lady [Y/N] is doing fine. If she was not, Heimdall would have summoned me back already. He is under strict orders to get me if anything is wrong with her. They-She is happy, and she is healthy” Thor was looking her in the eyes, earnest as he spoke. 

Steve nodded unhappily but he and Clint gave up the argument, hoping that Thor was telling the truth. Natasha however, had caught Thor’s latest slip up and her mind began to race.

Next Chapter ->

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[bloodytimelady]

Whumptober 2020 Day 1 - Let’s hang out

Darren came to slowly, like waking up from a night of binge drinking with the guys from the Conclave. He shook his head, trying to free it from the daze and the weird pressure he felt. His ears were ringing, and his every muscle burning and tingling with millions of needles. His staff was out of his hands, even though the blindfold still seemed to be on his eyes. Not that it changed anything.

It was only when he tried to move that he found out he was unable to, and from the acute pain to his wrists and ankles, he drew the most logical conclusion: he was restrained.

Before he had the time to process what that implied, a new worry washed over him. “Aster?” He called out, anxiety rising in his heart.

“Good gods, it sure took you time to wake up, Master” answered a familiar voice to his right. The man relaxed, but only for a moment.

“I was starting to think that the gravity must have fried your brain”.

“Gravity?”.

He heard the girl sigh dramatically before replying:” Some thugs ambushed us on Cloverfield Road, a few hours ago. You were out as a light before you could even hear what was happening, and I couldn’t leave you there. Hence why we’re both hanging like Smart Sue’s underwear on Reaping’s afternoon”.

The man took some time to process the words. He couldn’t recall a single detail of what his apprentice had just told him, but the hanging part was consistent with the tingling and pressure he felt throughout his entire body.

“What did they want?” he said, and his voice was suddenly as cold as ice. If they’d done anything to her…

“I’m fine” her voice suddenly lost all traces of humour “I don’t know what they wanted. They were ranting about some kind of necklace, but I told them I didn’t know anything. They threatened to kill us, but one of them -the boss, I suspect- kept them at bay”.

Darren licked his lips, taking it all in and trying to think of a plan:” Where’s my staff?”. “A few feet to your left. They joked about it, but they didn’t suspect anything about it or yourself”.

“That’s good. Can you swing? I need a push”.

“What? Your hands are all tied up like-” Aster’s objection faltered when Darren raised his freed wrists above (below?) his head with a victorious smile.

“You need to teach me that some time” scoffed the girl, and a few seconds later the creaking of the rope announced the slight pressure of the girl’s head on his back. A few pushes later, and the tips of his fingers brushed against the grass. Almost when he was beginning to think he couldn’t stretch any further, he touched something hard and smooth.

He quickly seized it, and Aster let out a whoop of victory.

“Now what?” asked the girl eagerly.

“Now, my girl, be patient and quiet”.

Darren held the staff to his chest and tried to relax as much as possible. What he wanted to try was well over his usual practice, but their situation was a tricky one: from the chilly breeze, he could feel that the afternoon was about to end.

Neither of them was in the position to defend themselves against wolves, or any of the other creatures that came out by night. And there was the possibility that their assaulters had a change of mind about leaving them alive.

He clenched his jaw, trying to focus. The staff started getting warmer in his hands. He could feel the rustling of branches above his feet, the creaking of the rope, the faraway call of a mockingbird.

Suddenly, the world around him exploded in a fountain of light and sound. While the staff began burning, he became one with every living being around him, from the birds in the sky to the worms in the ground, to all the trees and plants and mushrooms and lichens in the forest. As always, the feeling almost swept him away. He clenched his teeth so much that his gums started bleeding, and fought for a direction, an opening.

“Darren? Is that you?”.

Aiden. Dear gods, thank you.

“Where are you? You should’ve been back hours ago. Is everything alright? Did something happen?”.

The old man sounded worried in his head. Darren explained quickly, as he felt his energy beginning to dwindle. He held on with a growl, but he didn’t have much time.

Aiden pushed gently against his mind. He gladly let his walls down.

“I know where you are, Darren. Otto and the boys are coming to get you. Hold on”.

Darren’s head was suddenly empty. The staff fell from his weak grip and clattered to the ground, but he made no move to catch it.

He let his arms dangle over his head, as exhaustion washed over him. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was Aster’s worried voice call his name.

“He’s coming to, stay back. Give him space”.

Darren winced, a soft groan escaping his lips.

He felt horrible. His entire body was stiff and aching, and his hands were probably scorched, at least judging from the acute pain he felt. “A-Aster?” he whispered, trying to make out the girl’s voice among the chaos. He was lying on a hard, wobbling surface that he guessed was a cart, and all around them, the air was full of men yelling and horses neighing.

“I’m here” a reassuring hand closed around his shoulder. He sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his chest.

Aster’s arms slid gently over his shoulders, lifting his upper body off the cart.

“Drink” she ordered, and he obediently took a sip of water.

“Otto and the others arrived a few hours after you lost consciousness. Don’t ever pull something like that on me again, Master. I was terrified. Master Aidan would surely disapprove of this use of the staff, and I’m sure we’d have managed without it just fine. The next time…”.

The girl’s voice got confused with the rest as Darren relaxed against her with a weary sigh. His head was pounding, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

Something cold and wet was draped over his forehead, relieving ever so slightly the uncomfortable pressure that had built up there.

“It’s okay. Sleep. I’ll wake you up when we arrive” Aster said, and her tone shifted from lecturing to surprisingly soft.

The man didn’t bother to reply.

[tonyspep]

this night is sparkling, don’t you let it go (i’m wonderstruck blushing all the way home)

a/n: like always when it comes to my richard fics this is @rocketrhap917​‘s fault but in the best way possible.rae has become such a great friend these past few months since i found her fics for richard. my inspiration was this https://veinsofmantra.tumblr.com/post/188848193579  post and my face claim for you aka maddie is elizabeth olsen best known for playing wanda maximoff in the mcu. you can see her here. also i used lyrics from “enchanted” by taylor swift for the title of this fic.

~*~this night is sparkling, don't you let it go~*~

(i'm wonderstruck blushing all the way home)

pairing: richard madden/you

summary: you were never a risk taker, but the last thing you wanted was for everyone to think you had a lousy time in paris, so for the first time you took a risk; asking a handsome strange for a kiss, the worst he could do is say no, except he didn't

rating: t

The sun slowly setting while you rode the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower reminded you that your time in Paris was dwindling. You didn't think a week had ever gone by so fast, but this was your lone vacation of the year, as you had only been working at Gourmand Magazine for a year and hadn't accumulated much paid time off as a result. So instead of staring at the familiar sight of Bryant Park, you were taking in one of Europe's most vibrant cultural centers, seemingly unearthing a new sight every time you blinked.

You sighed heavily, your teeth sinking into your lip as the elevator dinged, signalling you had reached the observation deck. Your camera – yes, camera complete with multiple lenses and a small tripod – weighed heavily in the bag you slung across your shoulder. Though, Gourmand hired you for your writing, you had experience in food styling from when you were in college and photography had always been a hobby of yours, so you brought your beat up – but still functional, thank you very much – Nikon with you.

Your lips twisted wryly as you thought of your sister, Maggie, who teased you for bringing it along while she helped you pack. mads, i don't get it, sue me, but you have a perfectly good iphone ten for pictures. why are you packing that old dinosaur? dad doesn't even remember giving it to you. save the space for thongs for the sexy french dudes you'll be hooking up with.

You managed to hold down a bark of laughter as you stepped out onto the crowded space. Your sister – though, she was older – thought you were going to be whisked into some kind of romantic comedy or at least an episode of Sex and the City the second you touched down at the Charless DeGalle airport and your week long trip would be nothing but hook ups with Gabriel, Raphael and Louis, ever so enchanted by your Midwest twang and slouchy beanies and beat up boots.

yeah, mags you thought with a roll of your eyes i'm every frenchman's dream

You shook your head, pasting on a warm, friendly smile as you manuevered your way through the throng of tourists and locals on the deck, hoping to squeeze your petite frame into a good spot where you'd be able to get shots of the city at sunset. Your heart couldn't help but sink as you looked at the couples all around you – apparently you hadn't gotten the memo that tonight was couples only – which only served to remind you that you weren't supposed to be here alone. You were supposed to be here with your boyfriend of nearly two years Nick, but he broke up with you a month before the trip and of course the deposit on the hotel room was non refundable and it was too late to change your ticket, so you were stuck going to Paris alone. He at least – ha – had the courtesy to Zelle you the money for his ticket.

Another sigh passed your lips as you found some space between the couples exchanging longing glances and fevered kisses.

X

“Beautiful night isn't it?” A rich baritone came from beside you, nearly making you jump out of your skin. “Didn't mean to startle ye,” Their tone somewhat sheepish and when you turned to face them, your breath caught in your throat and your heart stuttered while your pulse raced.

You were sure you had never seen a more handsome man.

Not even Leo looked this good to you while you were swooning over him in Romeo + Juliet and Titanic as a lovestruck teenager.

He was at least a head taller than you, just a little under six feet or just at the six foot mark, you guessed. His eyes were the bluest blue, so blue it was like staring into the ocean itself, you thought you could drown if you stared long enough. His lips were plush and inviting, as if their shape had been specifically made for kissing. His jaw, that looked sharp enough to cut glass, was covered by a neatly trimmed russet beard – briefly a sizzling thought was seared into your brain as you wondered what the bristly hairs might feel like between your thighs.

You flushed, but willed the heat in your cheeks to recede, the thought replaced by something tamer. The wonder of wanting to know what it would feel like to card your fingers through the thickness of his simply styled hair, the grey streak at the front capturing your attention. The silver mixed among the otherwise dark auburn only enhanced his attractiveness and you thought your touch/romance starved brain might have conjured him up, like some sort of mirage as if you were wandering in the desert and were desperate for water.

Because, honestly, how could he be real?

“An amateur photographer, perhaps?” Brought you back to reality. Just as your lips parted, he shook his head, “No, no don't tell me,” He flashed the most charming knee weakening grin you'd ever seen, thirty two perfectly white teeth shining at you and your thighs clenched as he stroked his beard, pretending to be deep in thought. “Let me guess,” He leaned in close as if you weren't complete strangers, his breath – minty fresh – warming your face.

“Artist,” He declared and you were sure your panties would be ruined if he spoke another syllable.

“I can only draw stick figures, sorry,” You remarked, your lips twisting into your first genuine smile since you stepped off the plane. “You, uh,” Your voice took on a lighter, airier tone – dare you even say flirtatious – as you moved a little closer, your bodies nearly touching. “Were right the first time,” You gave a breathless giggle and were rewarded with a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“An amateur photographer, are ye?”

“I write for a food magazine,” You explained, not really taking the time to analyze that you were telling all of this to a complete stranger. “Back in New York. Gourmand. It's, uh, just barely getting off the ground and I've only been there a year, so I don't have a lot of vacation time saved. I was supposed to be here with someone, but it didn't work out,” You could feel your cheeks heat up from the admission. “I couldn't get the hotel room deposit back and it was too late to switch my flight to somewhere else. I, uh, did some food styling in college, but photography's actually been a hobby of mine since high school.”

“An actual camera's a rare sight these days.” His breath warms your face again as he angles it just so, his fingers brushing along the strap that keeps the camera around your neck. The tips – calloused and rough, but not unpleasant – catch, briefly, against the skin of your neck and you don't know how you're standing.

“My sister,” Your tone is rueful just as your smile is. “Thought it was a waste of space. She voted for thongs to fill the space inside my suitcase instead,” The words fell from your lips without a second thought and another low chuckle left those criminally plush lips. “Thongs, you say?” He arched a perfect brow. “But since your camera took up all that space, am I to assume no thongs accompanied you on your trip?”

You laughed instead of flushed like you expected yourself to do. You gave him a shove, surprised by your bold move and he laughed again, his crystal eyes twinkling while they squinted and crinkled attractively until the last rasp fell from his lips.

You stood on your tip toes, your lips brushing along the shell of his ear – again, taking yourself by surprise – and murmured, “No thongs, I'm afraid, but some lacy pairs accompanied me. I may be wearing a pair right now.”

“Oh,” He sounded breathless, and you felt yourself swell with pride. You – little Maddie Rogers – from Naperville made this incredibly handsome guy with this too die for accent breathless and flush. You who always waited for the guy to make the first move did that. Where it came from you didn't know, it was probably the fact that you were in Paris and though not quite the romantic Maggie was, you were being swept up in the vibe that the Eternal City gave off, that rush that anything could happen, that you could be anyone or anything and it wouldn't matter because in, like, two days you would be gone.

For the first time since you landed, Nick was the furthest thing from your mind. You were doing the thing you had struggled to do since you were a kid, live in the moment and just be.

Your brain was buzzing while heat surged through your veins, the urge to have those perfect lips pressed against yours too much to ignore. You turn yourself, your soft but lithe frame pressed against him and he's just as you thought he would be; lean and hard, not overly muscled but the perfect amount that you can feel the toned shape of his pecs through the fabric of his henley that clings to him just so, your breasts cushioned wonderfully against the muscles.

“Kiss me,” You basically demand before you can stop yourself.

Without a second thought, his large hand reaches between your bodies, touching your chin gently to angle you in a more advantageous way and just as you feel your lashes brush your cheeks when your eyes close, his lips are on yours.

If you're breathing, you don't know. All you know is his lips feel just as plush as they looked and yes, they were specifically designed for kissing. They literally shouldn't be doing anything else. Your lips open with no resistance for his insistent tongue and you allow him to coax your own out of hiding, tangling with his with no regard that you don't know his name and he doesn't know yours.

Breathing – unfortunately – is a necessity and when you break apart, you feel as though your coming up for air after having been under water. Your lungs burn, but it's pleasant and all you want is to capture his lips again, never wanting to go another second without them moving hungrily against your own. Your foreheads are pressed together and you feel your lips curve into a smile. He laughs, his hand moving languidly over your back, fingers dipping beneath the hem of your shirt to touch the small of your back, and god what you wouldn't give for him to touch you everywhere, no barriers between you.

You're under an intense haze, your brain foggy in a way it's never been and just as his lips brush against yours again, you pull away before the kiss can turn hotter. You give a soft smile, your fingers lingering along the bristles of his beard and you giggle at the roughness of the hair there – so different than the soft, thickness you felt as your fingers carded through the hair on his head - “just a sec,” you breathe and it takes everything to pull away.

Your camera's on the railing, when you took it off you don't know, but you slip your phone from your back pocket and tap a middle aged woman on the shoulder. You ask if she speaks in English, unsure if she is French or not and when she says yes – her Minnesota accent coming through – you laugh and ask if she'd be willing to take a picture of you and – you let the white lie slip from your lips – boyfriend, a tingle rushing up your spine from the word while your stomach dips and tumbles from the heady thought you desperately wish was true.

She says yes and you're pulling him in for what you intend to be another steamy kiss. Instead, he's unbelievably gentle. Taking special care when his lips slide along yours, one of his hands anchored in your hair and the other at the small of your back, to keep you pressed against him. His tongue is slow and languid as it moves against yours and you pull back just as the woman goes, “there you go,” and you sigh softly, your breath literally stolen and he says, “thank you ma'am,” the accent – Scottish, you finally realize – sending your heart beating like a runaway train.

“Oi, Dickie!” A British accent calls from a foot away and you laugh when he mutters, “fuck all,” under his breath. “Dickie?” You can't stop yourself from giggling. You're not sure what you would have guessed his name to be, but he definitely isn't a Dick. “It's Richard,” He murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek. “My father's also named Richard so my Mum took to calling us Big Dick and Little Dick. My friends think it's funny.”

“Oh,” You murmur, giggles slowly fading from your tone. “Take care,” He says, flashing another knee weakening smile and yeah, you're positive your panties are ruined at this point. “And whoever you were supposed to be with is a bloody fool.” His tone is so sincere you fight back a swoon. “I'd never let  a beauty such as yourself end up in Paris – of all places – alone.”

“Thanks...”

“Bloody hell, mate...” His friend grouses after he pushed his way through the throng of people to get to where the two of you were standing. “For finding my camera,” You finish, reaching for the familiar device. You knew what was going to happen next, his friend was going to ask who you were and then you'd probably end up wherever they were going and in the morning he'd be in your bed just a day left on your trip and he'd, somehow, convince you to stay and that was something you couldn't – literally – afford to do. You were barely making the rent as it was since you didn't have Nick's extra income coming in anymore.

“Of course,” He muttered, those pure crystal eyes going cloudy and your stomach twisted. His handsome face looked sad, though it was probably your imagination. He had no reason to be sad. You were just a stranger he kissed in Paris. It's not like you were ever going to see each other again.

“Who was that?” You heard his friend ask as you slipped through the crowd to make your way to the elevator. You bit down on your lip, twisting the flesh between your teeth and you swore you could still taste him; minty fresh with something spicy and deep underneath. Just like you swore his scent lingered in your nose; bergamont and orange with notes of musk and wood, a scent you doubt you would forget any time soon.

X

Before you shut the light off in your hotel room, you found the picture the fellow tourist had taken of the two of you, and before you could stop yourself you logged into your instagram account.

You posted the pic with the caption; i hope this guy i met at the eiffel tower and asked for a pic of us kissing so i could pretend i had a romantic time in paris is doing good.

The next morning your phone was buzzing and you rolled your eyes at the stream of text messages and dms Maggie had sent you. As you stretched your limbs and twisted your hair into a messy bun so you could prepare to wash your face and brush your teeth, your phone pinged. You were prepared to leave Maggie on read – not wanting to deal with her craziness so early in the morning and on your last day in Paris no less – when you saw that it wasn't a text or a dm from her.

Someone had liked – along with a few hundred other people – your photo of you and the stranger kissing. Your eyes squinted to read the user name – your glasses on the dresser in the middle of the room and you had taken out your contacts when you went to sleep – and saw it was from madsrich.

You didn't recognize the name and just as you were about to put your phone down, it pinged again letting you know you had a dm. It was from madsrich. huh?????????? you thought before clicking the message so it could fill your screen.

you hoped the guy you met at the eiffel tower and asked for a pic of us kissing so you could pretend you had a romantic time in paris is doing good, eh? i can confidently say he's doing well. though, he'd really like to know your name. it can't really be maroge12.

You nearly fell off the bed. It couldn't be... Your mind was racing and when you clicked on his username it took you to his profile and sure enough those unreal crystal blue eyes you believed you could drown in were staring back at you from various photos.

You quickly typed a response to his dm, your fingers shaking and tripping over themselves enough times that you had to go back and retype your message before you clicked send.

my name's maddie. and you're doing well, are you? that's good to know. i'm doing well also. i had a romantic time in paris, after all ;)