#niles edison x mc

[boneandfur]

Restless Farewell [N*FW][1/3]

Summary: Veronique goes to The City That Never Sleeps to recruit a thief, instead she meets a man with whom she can be ordinary with for just one night. But is he really who he seems? // Pairing: Niles Edison (Thief) x THM F!MC // Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ LEMON. By clicking on "read more", you are verifying that you are old enough to be reading this fic. // Words: 2935 // Notes: this is the precursor to the sneak peek I posted. It is canon-divergent in some places, although it sticks to the canon story-line as much as possible The first fic in this series takes place in NYC, the night before MC and Rye meet with Niles Edison aka Eddie Quick in Washington Square Park. I HC the MC to be in their 30s and Edison to be late 40s. It’s full of angst and smut. If you like those two things, proceed! Lyrics are from the song Restless Farewell by Bob Dylan.

Chapter One

New York City is full of ghosts. 

The first time Veronique, once known as Alaïs Dègas Lionheart, came to the City That Never Sleeps, she was just five years old. She dreams of it, sometimes: Times Square in winter, ice skates and hot chocolate, her mother dripping with rubies and diamonds, a sheik's ransom. The Nutcracker Ballet, sugar plums and chocolate mice, her father carrying her on his shoulders to the castle in Central Park, a fairy tale of turrets and stained glass windows.  

And there are other memories too, darker ones, the kind a child doesn't understand, the kind an adult pushes away. Suitcases of gold bouillon, walking in on her father throwing handfuls of cash in the air as her mother lies on the bed, her mother's bruised eyes and bloody mouth. I walked into a door, ma petit. It was very silly of me. 

Yes, the city is full of ghosts tonight. 

Veronique walks down the city streets without really looking around, yet somehow her feet seem to know where they are going. She passes Times Square in a blur of color and light, Chinatown, with joss paper in the shop windows, botanicas in the Bronx full of colored saint's candles and Santa Muerte, until she is somewhere near Central Park, standing on the path to the castle.

The leaves whisper in the night, their music borne by the wind. Shhh, shhh. She can hear the song in her head that her father used to whistle as he counted stacks of cash, his blazing head bent in concentration. 

"Oh, all the money that in my whole life I did spend / Be it mine right or wrongfully / I let it slip gladly to friends / To tie up the time most forcefully..." 

"Daddy?" Veronique whispers, and only the leaves whisper back. Shhh, shhhh. 

She forgets she is a criminal mastermind, she forgets she is a thief. She forgets about heists in Monaco, and men with cold, flat eyes who stare at you as they kiss the mouths of their guns. She forgets about Rye, the man she loves like a brother, sleeping like a blameless man back at the hotel before their flight in the morning. There is only Alaïs, the Little Robber Princess, and a man's scratchy voice, singing a poet's song. 

"But the bottles are done / We've killed each one / And the table's full and overflowed / And the corner sign / Says it's closing time / So I'll bid farewell and be down the road... "

In the lamplight, the hair is fox-red, and Veronique runs. The man continues down the path, still singing softly. Her hand skims his shoulder, and he turns around. "Daddy?" But it is a stranger's face, craggy and rough and wrong, one eye sewn shut, the other blue as river glass. There is something cunning and strangely hungry in the man's eyes, under the lamplight they flicker for a moment, and Veronique realizes how far she is from the crowds, unable to disappear in plain sight. 

Veronique spins on her heel, and runs. Down the path, into the dark forest ramble, branches scraping her arms. She comes out on a well-lit path of cobblestones, with no sign of the man behind her. Despite her sigh of relief, she stills. She can feel someone, watching her from the dark. Waiting. A beat, and Veronique spins around, whipping her fists up, but the inky shadows remain still, seething with the secrets of the night. 

•••

Three city blocks later, she hasn't lost her tail. She wonders, for a moment, if it's one of the Rooks following her, but brushes the thought away almost as instantly as it comes. They wouldn't be so amateur. 

"Lionheart." That name, the name no one living should know. 

Veronique bolts down the nearest alleyway, and bursts out the other side, her lungs burning, just in time to see a black Lincoln with its lights turned off pull up to the curb. The window rolls down, and the long muzzle of a Berretta points straight at her. 

Time stills, and her mind goes blank. Lionheart. The last time she saw the two of them, it was snowing in the mountains, the sky a dusky purple from the ambient glow of the city. Her father had promised her a golden nightingale that would sing down the moon, and when her mother's lips brushed across her forehead, the little robber princess pretended to be fast asleep. 

"Get back!" Someone yanks Veronique by the wrist right back into the alleyway, hands braced on the brick wall over her head, body pressed up against hers, shielding her from harm. She is afraid to breathe, and all she can feel is his heart thundering against hers, under the cover of darkness. The Barretta aims, and fires, and Veronique bites back a scream as the bullet's impact rains down red brick dust on the pair of them. He grabs her hand, and whispers hoarsely, "Now!" 

Veronique doesn't look back, or up at the man pulling her through the shadows, until they are back in the well-lit streets of Times Square. She is shivering, she cannot seem to stop. Lionheart. That name. How could someone know it, after all these long lonely years? 

"Alright, luv?" The man turns around, looking down at her, and drops her hand in surprise. "Bloody hell, you're not who -- " he corrects himself "-- you're not what I was expecting." 

But who did you expect? Veronique finds herself staring up into the face of a handsome, distinguished older man with dark brown hair gone nearly gray and a trim beard, wearing a brown trench coat and a long dark red scarf. He whips off his glasses, rubbing them with his sleeve, and shoots her a charming smile. His eyes are malachite green behind his glasses, like the pendant she wears around her neck. 

There is something dangerous about this man, she thinks -- Something that could make or break an ordinary woman. He holds out his hand to shake. 

"The name's Eddie." 

She pushes a swath of golden hair behind one ear, and smiles. "Hey." 

•••

"You look as though you could use a proper drink. I know I could." Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. "You almost gave me a heart attack back there. Christ! I thought --" but he bites back whatever it is he was about to say. 

She's still shaking from adrenaline, her skin buzzing, and she realizes they are so close that they could touch, if they wanted. She wants him to touch her, she realizes. To just feel like an ordinary woman for one night, instead of one who can make or break a man. But she doesn't move away. "A drink sounds fantastic. I'm --" Alaïs. It's on the tip of her tongue, and she wonders, for a brief, unguarded moment, what it would be like to be herself with a stranger, just for one night. "Alaïs." 

He raises his brows, giving her an obvious once-over, eyes lingering in appreciation on her legs and breasts. "That's a lovely name -- Alaïs. She was the mistress of Henry the Second." He clears his throat, the distance between them fixed, neither making any move to go off and search for the promised drinks. And then his lips are on hers, the sound of the city falling away in his searing kiss. Her heart rate speeds up, adrenaline pumping through her veins as the kiss deepens, his tongue hot in her mouth as his hands encircle her hips, pulling her flush up against his broad chest. 

When they pull apart, Eddie smiles down at her, so softly that Veronique feels her insides fall apart. "How about that drink, then? I know a place..." 

•••

The hotel bar is well-appointed, with dark, heavy pre-war furnishings, a relic of a time gone by. They sit at the bar, their knees not quite touching, the air between them heady, thick with desire. Eddie levels a wink at her, and catches the eye of the bartender. 

"What'll you have?" Carter, his name tag reads, gold leaf on black plastic. He's blonde, good looking in that slick, clean cut way, and his smile is practiced, white and fake. 

"I'll take an Old Fashioned. And for the lady, a gin and tonic, I think. Make sure it's top shelf, proper gin, none of that shoddy Bombay." Eddie pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, dark green gaze locked on hers for a moment. "Did I get it right, then?" 

Veronique drops her eyes, then looks up at him from under her lashes. "Make it a gin fizzy." 

Eddie hums in approval. "A bird of refined tastes, you are." 

"Citrus Pay, sir, if you'd like to open a tab?" Carter returns with the drinks, bringing out a tablet, and Eddie recoils, a look of disgust crossing his features. 

"I don't go in for none of that bloody newfangled garbage. Cold hard cash, that's what we paid with back in my --" 

Carter rolls his eyes. "Very well, sir. Some of our older guests prefer to pay the old fashioned way, if that's what you prefer." He slides the Old Fashioned towards Eddie, mouth trembling as he tries to hide his amusement. "And for the lady, a Tanqueray gin fizzy, garnished with a fair-trade organic lime wedge, raw unrefined pink turbindo sugar on the rim, hand ground and imported from --" 

Eddie rolls his eyes. "You're not on the pull, mate, you're just serving the lady a drink. No need to slather it on." 

Carter rolls his eyes. "Very well, sir. Signal me if you need another, Old Fashioned." 

Veronique plucks at Eddie's sleeve before he can give the bartender a piece of his mind. She nods to a low-lit booth with a chessboard. "Care to place a wager?" 

Eddie's eyes light up in appreciation at the swing in her hips as she brushes past him, his eyes raking her up and down. "As long as it doesn't involve any of that bloody modern claptrap, I'm all in, luv." 

•••

"Lady's choice." Eddie sets up the board so fast that her head spins. His knees brush hers under the table, and her pulse speeds up erratically, craving each seemingly innocuous touch. "Black or white?" 

His hand lifts the hem of her skirt, caressing her just above the knee. Not so innocent after all. "Black." 

He raises a brow, sipping his drink thoughtfully. "A lady who likes to live dangerously, I see." Surveying the chess board, he moves a white pawn two spaces. "And I suppose this wager of yours is dangerous too?" 

Veronique takes a slow sip of her gin fizzy, seductively licking the foam off her lips, and watches as his pupils enlarge. "You'll have to play the game to find out." 

Eddie inhales sharply as she scoots to the very edge of the seat, parting her legs and moving his hand further up her thigh. "Oh, I intend to." His eyes are locked on hers as she mirrors his move, pawn before the king going two spaces forward. He moves another pawn two spaces forward. "So what brings you to New York, Alaïs -- business or pleasure?" His hand slides up her thigh. 

Alaïs. The name gives her heart a funny little twist, and she realizes she hasn't heard it spoken aloud by another person for almost thirty years. "I could ask you the same thing." Veronique plays with the malachite pendant around her neck, drawing his eyes to her cleavage. "But tonight... It's pleasure." 

Eddie is fighting back a smile. "Are all American birds these days as cheeky as you?" 

Veronique leans forward, long blonde hair brushing the chessboard, and asks in a husky whisper, "And just how long has it been since you've been in New York City?" 

He leans forward, their faces mere inches apart, his lips brushing against her ear, the sound of his English accent making her throb between the legs, like the beat of her heart, aching, wanting. "Too goddamned long enough." 

She turns her cheek, and his lips ghost across hers, the sensation of his stubble on her flesh causing her to inhale sharply, a tiny, yearning moan escaping her. "Eddie." 

He leans back, but his gaze never leaves hers. "You're not bloody cheeky, luv, you're downright dangerous." 

That I am. She thinks of the malachite pendant around her neck, sharpened to a point. 

All thieves live by a code of honor, my little robber princess, her father's voice whispers down the years. Never kill a man just to kill him, for it will always come back to haunt you. But if you need a friend, this stone is your best bet. Lick it and stick it, it'll work like a charm. Keep it close, and it may save your life. But I hope to hell that day never comes. 

Instead of answering, Veronique pulls Eddie's hand right to the apex of her thighs, hot and slick, craving his touch; and with her other hand, makes a move on the board, leaving her queen open. 

His fingers brush the thin strip of fabric, feeling how wet she is. He growls, his voice dark and rough. "What's the wager? We never said."

"That we both win tonight." She slides backwards in the booth, away from his hand, her heart hammering like mad. She must be crazy, she must be foolish, but she doesn't care, she wants -- "Eddie." 

"Right, then." He drains his drink and then throws some cash on the table, holding out a hand. "Shall we?" 

•••

They've barely stepped into the elevator when Eddie spins her around, pressing her up against the wall in a hard kiss. His hands glide up her thighs, cupping her ass, and she rocks against him, moaning as his fingers skim over the damp fabric of her underwear with the lightest pressure, teasing her clit. 

Eddie grunts as Veronique bites his shoulder, and all of a sudden the elevator dings. They break apart, disheveled and erect in all the wrong places. Eddie adjusts his trousers as a dark-haired man with an arrogant look steps into the elevator, followed by a pixie-haired blonde girl who looks as though she's smelled something bad. 

"The ground floor, bellhop," the dark haired man says to Eddie with a peevish air, and turns to the girl. "I didn't know the Waldorf-Astoria was hiring riff-raff these days. I'll have to have a talk with the owner." 

"Oh, Uncle Antoine, don't be such a snob," the girl says. "Like... Oh. Em. Gee!"

"This is your stop, mate," Eddie says with a grimace, slamming the emergency stop button. "'Fraid the elevator's closed for maintenance." He shoulder checks Antoine on his way out, and pushes him and his niece from the elevator into the hall, the pair of them spluttering with indignation. "Stairs are that way, guv." 

"I'm leaving a one star review on Yel--" Antoine is cut off as the elevator door slides shut, and Eddie turns back to Veronique, a smug grin on his face. "Now, where were we?" 

She can't be sure, but when she's sure, she's sure. Eddie has just picked both their pockets. A dangerous man, indeed. 

"Right... here." She tugs on his hand, and notices that there's a slight indent on one of his fingers, where a ring used to be. He can't be married, she frets in her head. But she can't be bothered to worry about it for long, because when Eddie kisses her, firmer than the first time, it feels more meaningful, more right. Like calls to like. It only makes sense that it would take a thief to make her come tonight. 

Eddie's mouth on hers is hot, her nipples are aching for his touch and as he begins rolling one nipple between his fingers, her brain short-circuits and goes blank. There is only this -- his slow, measured kiss, stretching out the pleasurable sensations happening elsewhere in her body. There's the way he tastes, like brandy and citron, and the sound of his deep growl as his hand slides between her legs again. 

It takes her nearly a full minute to realize she's no longer wearing underwear. He must have stolen them. A rush of heat throbs between her thighs, and the sound of his fingers slipping in and out of her slick, wet folds causes the coil of heat to tighten inside of her, harder and harder, biting her bottom lip as his mouth moves down her neck, sucking and nibbling a path to her nipples. The door starts to open, and Eddie slams on the floor button with his free hand. 

"I can't tell you how goddamned beautiful you are," he whispers into her ear. "Because words can't express it." 

Veronique is panting now, unable to catch her breath, and when he swirls his fingers rapidly over her clit, she comes hard and fierce, right then and there. 

"Eddie! Oh, fuck!" Veronique's hips buck uncontrollably, riding the intense wave of her orgasm. He sucks one nipple into his mouth and she screams his name, her legs nearly giving way as she collapses against him, his mouth claiming hers in a hard, possessive kiss. 

"Let's get you to bed, luv." Eddie strokes her cheek with the back of his hand. "Because I plan to shag you until you can't walk for a week." 

"Hurry," she moans.

She's never seen a man slam the elevator buttons so fast in her life. 

•••

Tag list will be in comments section since they seem to only work half the time.

[edisonstolemyheart]

After The Afterparty - Niles Edison

A/N: This is just a little self-indulgent fic I’ve had in mind for a while, featuring the man Choices for some reason will not let me marry ;-; (unless there’s gonna be a Heist Book 3: Wedding Edition?)

Entry for the @choicesnovemberchallenge Prompt was ‘Alcohol’ Niles Edison x F!MC (Lee) Rating: Alcohol/Minor Adult Themes Summary: The crew celebrate their last night together after a successful heist, and Lee wonders what the future holds

  After the initial thrill from seeing the enormous pile of bills, the crew separate into different places around the suite to chat, reminiscing on the heist and some already making plans for a future job. Lee watches the group fondly, Eris by her side, the pair sipping on some cocktail Eris invented containing far too much alcohol. Across the room, she sees Tillie gesturing animatedly as she tells some story to Niles and Rye. Niles catches Lee’s eye, and the corner of his mouth twitches into what almost passes as a smile before he looks away again. This didn’t go unnoticed by Eris, who elbows Lee in the ribs and mimes blowing a kiss. Lee rolls her eyes and sips on the last of her drink, fighting a smile of her own.

“Any plans for tonight then?” Eris pokes at Lee, still grinning. “If there’s anyone you were planning on getting some alone time with, tonight’s our last night together.” Her voice almost trails off at the end, the realisation bringing a sombreness to their conversation.

“Only for a little while, E.” Lee avoids her question, stirring the ice in her cup with the straw. “No rest for the wicked, huh? I’m sure after the heat has died down a little Rye will have something planned.”

Eris gives her friend a look, not breaking eye contact with her as she takes a long drink. Lee refuses to meet her eyes, searching the room for anyone besides Eris or him. She knows Eris won’t stop until she admits to her midnight trysts with the thief but it’s something the pair had agreed to keep between themselves. It’s the sort of thing that would have altered the group’s dynamic, and a change like that could throw the whole job down the drain, not to mention the inevitable teasing. Eris, of course, had figured it out one night after the Lee and Niles had returned from a spontaneous late-night heist of their own and ended up pressed against the wall outside the safe house in a heated exchange.

Lee sighs and rolls her head to look at Eris. “Look, I don’t really know what’s happening, ok?” She passes her empty glass to Eris. “But whatever it is, I promise I’ll tell you everything,” she pauses for a second. “After all of this is over.” With that, she walks over to the collection of alcohol they’ve amassed for the occasion, and pours herself a simple yet strong mix.

Several cocktails consisting of too much alcohol later, Eris is still pestering Lee for details, stopping only when someone walks too close, or to make another drink. “But surely,” her words are almost slurred, and she blinks more slowly than usual. “Surely he’s good right? I mean, he has a kid. That means he’s gotta be good. You have to tell me something.” She pleads, pouting when her friend won’t share the details. They tell each other everything! It’s not fair!

Lee rubs the bridge of her nose, and inhales through her teeth. She knows Eris is just looking out for her, but after nearly two hours it’s just a little bit annoying. Time to put her to bed. ‘Maybe also time for bed too.’ She thinks, almost stumbling as she stands and pulls Eris to her feet. Rye notices them, and moves to take Eris’ other arm, helping Lee drag her to her room.

“Drunk?” He raises an eyebrow in Lee’s direction as they approach the door of the suite. The crew all have rooms nearby, and luckily Eris’ isn’t too far.

“Nah. Just a little bit buzzy,” she smiles. “Definitely not as drunk as this one anyway.”

Eris mumbles something at the pair as they reach her room, pulling the hotel key from inside her bra. Lee stifles a laugh at Rye’s amused expression, looking thankful Eris was coherent enough to unlock her own door. They tuck her in, Eris giving Lee a wink as they head out of her room.

“Think I’m gonna turn in too.” Lee says, after they close the door. Truthfully, she doesn’t quite want to return to the room without Eris to be a distraction, even if she was driving her up the wall. Rye nods, and after a brief goodnight, they head in opposite directions down the corridor. Lee is almost at her door, when she feels a familiar presence behind her. She smiles to herself, not saying a word, but entering her room and leaving the door to close behind her.

When she doesn’t hear the door click shut, she huffs a small laugh. “Not staying at the party?” She asks, turning around to face her shadow.

“I’m not exactly one for parties,” Niles smiles softly, letting the door fall shut behind him and slowly crossing the room to where she stands. “Besides, the party left when you did.”

Lee scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re such a charmer.” She hums, closing the gap and raising her face to his. “But that works for me.” She presses their lips together, tasting the whiskey on his tongue and resting her hands on his waist. The buzz in her head intensifies when she feels him push her backwards, her back connecting with the wall. She slides her hand up his shirt, feeling his breath catch when she rakes her fingers gently down his chest.

Niles deepens the kiss, his fingers ghosting across her cheek, down her neck, against her ribcage, along her thigh. Lee is sure he can feel her heart beating against her chest, her pulse pounding in her ears. He stops just short of the hem of her dress, his kisses becoming teasing, pulling her leg up to wrap around his waist as they press against the wall.

She opens her eyes, blinking twice to adjust her vision, and tugs on his silver hair to disconnect their lips. His head tilts slightly, gaze darkening as she grinds their hips together in a slow movement, her leg resting at his lower back and holding them together. They share a heated glance before reconnecting, more intense than before. At this point, she isn’t sure how much of the dizziness in her head is alcohol and how much is the desperate need she feels for the man before her. She feels his fingers squeeze gently into her thigh as he pushes his own between her legs, pinning her between him and the wall.

His glasses dig slightly into the bridge of her nose as they kiss, so Lee pulls back ever so briefly to slide them off and unceremoniously drop them onto the dressing table. She feels him smile against her, before he returns to his usual, more serious demeanour and pulls them back together. The kiss becomes more heated as time passes, until Lee’s legs are practically numb. Eventually, Niles falls back separating them only slightly, still holding her in place between his chest and the wall. A comfortable silence hangs between them as they catch their breath. Several seconds pass, before Lee steps forwards and joins their lips together again, walking backwards to her bed and pulling him down on top of her.

Few words pass between them that night, and even fewer the following morning. Neither are sure what the future holds, whether they’ll meet again after the crew go their separate ways later that day. But until then, Lee is content to rest in Niles’ arms. A very successful heist indeed.

[tmarie82]

A Chance Encounter

Pairing: Damien Nazario x Niles Edison

Book: Perfect Match / The Heist: Monaco Crossover

Word Count: ~3,100

Rating: M (for language and sexual content)

Author’s Note: This is a pseudo-request stemming from a conversation with @akrenich a while ago about what would happen if the sexy silver fox Niles Edison met our favorite private investigator Nazario? I sat on it for a while and finally concocted this part-steamy/ part-angsty little backstory. I hope you enjoy!

Please let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list. You can find all of my fics in my Masterlist on my homepage.

~~~~~~~~~~

Damien

Damien shifted uncomfortably against the wooden bench, his eyes locked on the peeling label of the beer bottle he held in his hand. He fiddled with the paper with the tip of his thumb, determinedly trying to strip the adhesive further away from the smooth glass. Not that it was a particularly urgent task, but he was happy for the distraction from the droning on of the jackass sitting across the booth from him. The jackass with his arm draped around Camille’s shoulders as he blathered on, the one her sparkling blue eyes couldn’t get enough of tonight.

If Damien was totally honest, Luke wasn’t a bad guy. He was a successful young architect, he had decent taste in music, and he seemed to treat Cami well. Best of all he made her happy … yet Damien was having a hard time reconciling all of these facts in his mind when he felt like he’d been sucker-punched in the gut every time he heard the word “Luke” roll off her smiling lips lately. And tonight was even worse. Seeing them together, touching each other, making googly eyes at one another … even the crisp hoppy tang of his favorite beer couldn’t wash away the bitter tinge of jealousy in his mouth. Nope. He was going to need something stronger for that task.

“I’m gonna get another drink.” He muttered begrudgingly as he slid out of the booth. He was about to offer to get another round for the table, but Camille didn’t even look up when he spoke. Instead, she burst out laughing at some asinine joke Luke had just told. Even Nadia seemed distracted, clicking away on her phone in the corner of the now-empty bench. Well nevermind then, you guys are on your own tonight.

Chugging down the rest of his beer, Damien maneuvered his way through the crowded watering hole towards the bar. Setting the empty bottle down on the worn wooden counter, he leaned down against the barstool and gripped his head in his hands while he waited for the bartender to finish with the older gentleman beside him. He hated this. He hated being this guy that couldn’t get over his own feelings in order to be happy for his friend. That just wasn’t him … or maybe it was. He wasn’t sure what type of guy he was anymore, feeling himself become grumpier and more reclusive every day. Ever since it had dawned on him that he was actually in love with Camille, the girl who was supposed to be one of his best friends, every moment was uncharted territory.

He sighed, running his hands over his face and massaging his temples until he heard the bartender calling for his order. “Oh sorry, um … Bacardi and Coke. No, wait …. just make it a Bacardi. On the rocks. A double please.” The bartender gave him a quick nod before skirting away to pour his order.

“That sounds like a drink for a rough night.” The words trilled through the air, the sophisticated deep voice causing Damien to look up. His eyes lifted to the stranger sitting beside him, a polished man in his mid-forties wearing thin wire-frame glasses and a tweed blazer. There was a rough layer of grey-ish scruff along his cheeks matching the thick head of salt-and-pepper hair, and the fine lines surrounding his eyes gave him an air of wisdom.

Damien fumbled for a moment, confused at the unsolicited interaction from the distinguished older man. “Uh, yeah … why would you say that?” His eyes remained locked on the stranger, even as the bartender placed his drink before him.

The gentleman waved to the bartender, mumbling a quick “thank you” under his breath before turning on his barstool to face his neighbor. “Well your normal drink is a rum and coke, is it not? So straight rum … you must be trying to forget something.” The man tilted his head, his steely gray eyes flitting to the booth Damien had just departed. “Or someone, perhaps …”

Damien’s head turned back to the table, his gaze settled on Camille’s wide smile as she beamed up into Luke’s eyes. Luke’s hand lifted to graze her cheek, his fingers knitting into her blonde waves as he leaned in … Damien turned abruptly on his stool, lifting the glass of rum and taking a long swig. As he pulled the glass away from his lips the image of Cami leaning in towards Luke flashed in his mind’s eye again, and he swiftly returned it to his mouth for another drink. When he finally set it down, his words came out flat. “She’s just a friend.” He knew the lie was unbelievable even before it left his mouth.

The man chuckled, lifting his own drink to swirl it before taking it in his mouth for a long draw. “Right …” He set his drink down on the bar, motioning to the bartender to close out his tab before twirling the glass against the woodgrain with his fingers. Damien watched out of the corner of his eye, the gleam of the lights shining through the glass in rhythmic patterns as it twirled and twirled under the man’s light touch. “Might I give you some advice?” The man asked, shifting in his chair to face Damien.

Damien shrugged, a half-hearted gesture to match his half-hearted mood. “Sure why not.” He felt the man’s hand brace his shoulder, the warmth of his palm permeating the fabric of his shirt to his skin beneath. Such a small gesture, yet Damien was immediately aware of his touch. His raised his eyes instinctively, studying the other man closely as he met the coolness of his stare. A jolt of electricity flickered inside of him when he stared into those eyes, a glimpse of something dark and mischievous staring back from behind the glare of his lenses.

The older man gave his shoulder a light squeeze, his lips quirking at the edge in a coy smirk. “In life and in love, never miss your chance. You usually don’t get a second one.” Damien sat dumbfounded, the man’s words swirling in his head while he found himself lost in his welcoming stare. For a moment they just sat in silence, two strangers sharing a moment just for the two of them … until Damien felt his touch slipping away. With a quick pat on the back the man pulled away, clearing his throat as he stood upright and depositing a few bills on the bartop to cover his tab. “Good luck, Kid.” He gave Damien a sly wink before departing.

Damien’s head turned to watch him walk away, admiring the attractive man’s leisurely gait as he exited the bar. What in the … ? He suddenly felt his heart pounding in his chest, his cheeks still warm from the intensity of his stare. My chance … did he mean … ? In one swift movement, Damien gripped the glass of rum in his hand, pouring its contents down his throat in one burning swallow. His eyes locked on the door, he slipped his hand into his back pocket to … to find an empty pocket. Stunned, he blinked for a few seconds, staring at his empty palm. Where the fuck is my wallet???

~~~

Niles Edison

Niles Edison stepped out into the chilly New York night, tightening the scarf around his neck and tucking it beneath the lapels of his tweed coat before setting off down the sidewalk. Despite the late hour his pathway was bright, lit by the wide beams from the lightpoles lining the street and the neon signs of the various bars, restaurants and shops along his way. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring the cool air as it slid through his nose and down his throat to ultimately fill his lungs. He loved New York … the constant bustle, the variety of people, the sights and the sounds. The city that never sleeps always made him feel alive. And tonight was no exception.

Niles hadn’t set out tonight with the intent of pulling a job … he had merely wanted a quick nightcap before returning to his empty hotel room. An Old Fashioned in a crowded bar while he observed the patrons conducting their lives around him usually helped him put things in perspective before he turned in. Yet tonight … he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something had changed while he sat in that crowded bar.

Running a thumb over the smooth leather of the wallet in his pocket, he felt a pang of guilt wash through him as he recalled the bewildered look in that young man’s dark eyes. Niles wasn’t even sure why he spoke to him in the first place, but something about the sulking younger bloke had intrigued him. He was a good-looking fellow … kind eyes, strong jaw … that blonde-haired girl was an idiot for not seeing what was right in front of her. Those broad shoulders and defined back muscles indicated he might be in some type of service work …. maybe a cop? How ironic would that be, robbing a cop?

Perhaps Niles had just sensed the sorrow radiating from him when he sat down beside him, a feeling that resonated within himself and he just couldn’t help but engage. He had only intended to make him smile, to provide some wisdom from his many years of experience to this younger man. Yet, when he gazed into those chocolate eyes, when he slid a hand to cup his shoulder … something had clicked inside of him. A strange, unsolicited, mind-numbing click that echoed from his head down to his toes. Suddenly he felt exposed and vulnerable, his body reacting to this man’s deep gaze in a way that left him puzzled. So Niles Edison did the one thing he did best … he played him. And he had the wallet to prove it.

He was approaching the end of the block when he heard the shout from behind him, followed by the pounding of footsteps on the pavement. “Hey! Stop right there!” He glanced over his shoulder to find the young man from the bar bounding towards him, causing him to freeze in place. Should he run? Niles Edison was not one that was used to getting caught mid-theft, and he definitely was not in any shape to outrun this guy. He found himself mesmerized as he watched the man grow closer and closer, the way his thick arms swung back and forth as he glided gracefully across the pavement. Only a few feet away now, Niles could see the steam of warm air escaping his lips as he slowed down to stop directly in front of him.

In an instant the man gripped him by the lapels, shoving Niles backwards against a brick wall. “My wallet!” The young man growled as he put his face only inches in front of Niles’s. “Where’s my wallet?”

Niles released a sharp exhale as he made impact against the rough wall, stunning him for a moment. When his mind came back into focus he found himself peering into the man’s sneering face. Up close he could see the tiny flecks of amber dotting his irises, accentuated by the anger dancing in his eyes. Shit, this was not what he had intended at all. “I’m sorry, Kid. It was meant to be a joke.” Niles released a weak laugh, only to be cut off by another strong shove against the wall behind him. “Oof!”

“You really think I’m going to fall for that, Old Man? What kind of a joke involves stealing a stranger’s wallet?” The man’s voice still came out in a low tone, but Niles could see his eyes softening a bit at the corner with an inexplicable emotion. Emotion … he could use that.

“Of course … you looked pretty out of sorts back there. I thought it might be better to get you out of there.” The lie rolled off his tongue smoothly, as signified by the two hands gripping his jacket slowly loosening their grasp.

The man looked pensive, leaning back to study Niles as he contemplated his mediocre excuse. A shadow cast across his face from the light pole to their left, a black line drawing its way across his tan skin and plump lips. Niles felt himself acutely aware of their close proximity at that moment, his body suddenly craving the young man’s rough touch again. “You … wanted me to come out here?”

“I did.” The words left Niles’s mouth softly yet without hesitation. He had wanted this stranger to follow him out here, he had wanted it without even knowing it. He felt drawn to this man somehow, as if seeking an answer to a question he didn’t know yet.

Slowly the young man’s lips curled into a smug smile, his eyes sparkling as his face inched closer. “Why didn’t you just ask?” He chuckled under his breath before sliding his hands up Niles’s neck to grip his face between his palms and capturing his lips with his own.

Niles was unable to respond at first, his mind a blur as it processed the feel of the man’s warm lips moving against his and his fingertips tickling the hair at the nape of his neck. But his body soon betrayed his mind’s hesitation, his arms slipping around the man’s broad frame and pulling him tightly against his chest, his hands roaming the firm planes of his back. A muffled groan escaped his throat when he felt a tongue tease his lips requesting entrance, his mouth opening involuntarily in invitation as he deepened the kiss. They lingered there for what could have been seconds or minutes, entwined together as if nothing else existed outside of the two of them. The young man nipped at his lower lip with a low grunt, running the tip of his tongue across the fresh wound to soothe it. Niles gasped at the sensation, his arousal throbbing against the snug fabric of his pants. His whole body buzzed with desire, much more intense and primal than anything he’d ever felt before in his 44 years.

The realization startled Niles as it flitted into his mind, causing him to halt his wandering lips and hands and pull away abruptly. “I’m sorry, I …” he stammered, placing his palms against the man’s chest to create some distance as he looked away shamefully. “I think you’ve got the wrong impression, Kid.” But the thrill of the kiss still reverberated in his veins, no matter how hard he tried to deny it.

The young man shifted away, the cold air in the space between them hitting Niles like a slap in the face as he fought the instinct to reach out and pull him close again. “I guess I did … “ the man muttered, his tone polite yet unconvincing.

Without looking up Niles fished the leather-bound wallet from his jacket pocket, thrusting it in the other man’s direction. “I apologize for the joke. It was in poor taste. Please forgive me.” He shifted to move on in his original direction, desperate to escape this horribly awkward situation before it could get any worse. Before he could take a step he felt the gentle embrace of a hand grasping his wrist. He paused for a moment, then turned to find the handsome young man patiently watching him.

“You know, someone once told me to never miss my chance.” His eyes twinkled in the dim light, his mouth curled in a small, understanding smile. “Maybe this is your chance to figure some things out?” Patting his recently-retrieved wallet against him palm, the stranger studied Niles for a reaction to his insinuation. And when he got nothing, he turned to leave with a sigh. “Good luck, Old Man.”

Frozen in place, Niles couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man as he walked away. The hormone-induced rush had subsided and his heart rate had slowed, leaving him feeling … Empty. Alone. Confused.

Niles watched as the young man approached the door to enter the bar, extending a hand to grasp the handle and open the door. At the last second before he slipped inside, he turned back to Niles and flashed him a warm grin, causing Niles’s breath to catch and the excitement to rush through his veins again. And then he was gone.

Standing on that sidewalk in the middle of New York City on that chilly night, with his heart pounding and limbs tingling with adrenaline, Niles Edison finally recognized his truth. And like it or not, this might be his chance to finally figure things out.

~~~

Damien

Making his way back towards the bar, Damien somehow felt surprisingly calm after his little adventure. He flipped through his wallet quickly and, noticing nothing was missing or astray, shoved it back in his pocket. He knew most people would be furious after being manipulated and robbed, but the confused and vulnerable look in the older man’s grey eyes had assured him that his act was not meant be malicious. And that kiss … that kiss had definitely proved there was much more behind the simple theft than the man had even realized at the time.

Maybe sometimes people just need time to realize the things they’ve buried deep within their souls. Take this gentleman for example … he was on the downward slope to fifty and it appeared he was just now understanding that he might be attracted to men. Damien smirked a little, remembering the pressure of the man’s bulge against his thigh … that should definitely be a wake up call. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just a little bit proud to have that kind of effect on a supposed straight man.

Even in his own situation, it had taken Damien years of friendship to finally realize that he was in love with Camille. Maybe she just needed more time to figure it out too, or maybe she never would. Regardless, Damien understood it was unfair of him to want to hold her back. And there were plenty of other fish in the sea to amuse him in the meantime.

As he approached the door and reached for the handle, Damien threw one last glance over his shoulder to the older man. He was still standing in the same spot, his expression awash with bemusement, staring blankly in his direction. Damien flashed him a soft smile, a sign of forgiveness and understanding, before opening the door and slipping inside.

Plenty of other fish in the sea … just not that guy.

END

~~~~~~~~~~

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[lorirwritesfanfic]

The Heist: Monaco Fanfiction

Main Character: Rebecca Lowe

Mini series: The Greatest Con

Rebecca was sure stealing the crown jewels of Monaco would be an easy job, but as the crew hires Fabien as the getaway driver, her feelings for him cloud her judgment.

Warning: Adult content stories. Reader discretion is advised.

Frenzy Fabien x F!MC 

Interruptions: Part 1 - Part 2 Fabien x F!MC

Make You Say It Eris x F!MC

Places To Escape To  Fabien x F!MC

The Spot 

One Shots

Their Girls’ Night  Eris x F!MC

[boneandfur]

Restless Farewell [2/3][N*FW]

Summary: Veronique and Edison share their hopes and dreams. But will their connection dissipate in the harsh light of morning? // Words: 3390 // Pairing: Niles Edison x F!MC // Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ LEMONY GOODNESS

CHAPTER TWO

In the bathroom mirror, Veronique adjusts her dress, removing the pendant from around her neck and dropping it into her clutch. Why borrow trouble? It's obvious that both of them are pretending to be someone else, and tonight, it's enough for her to be Alaïs one last time, before she locks that door forever. Lionheart. The name rings in her head, like funerary bells tolling, but she pushes it away too.

Tonight is for life, not funerary rites.

If all goes according to plan, tomorrow evening she'll be on the red-eye flight back to Europe, laying Alaïs to rest once and for all, the slate wiped clean.

So why does it feel like such a betrayal? 

She sweeps out of the room to find Eddie nowhere in sight. "Eddie?" There's a whistle from the balcony, and when Veronique steps outside, Eddie is standing there in his shirtsleeves. The sight of him with his sleeves rolled up, hair on his sculpted forearms, does funny things to her insides, making her stomach flip. 

He looks her up and down with a low whistle. "You look absolutely smashing." Eddie passes her a mini-bottle of whiskey. "Cheers, luv." He clinks his bottle against hers, his hands firmly on her hips, pulling her in. The taste of his mouth intoxicates her, sending ripples of heat into her lower belly, her thoughts gone as foggy as mist rising off the Hudson River. 

"Mmm." Veronique pulls back for a moment, and he cups her jaw, kissing her again. The bottles clatter to the marble of the balcony as Veronique throws her arms around Eddie's neck, and all caution to the wind. 

Tonight is for living.

•••

Edison didn't come to New York for this, but he's not going to let a single moment of it go to waste. The last time he pulled a woman a decade younger than him was the night he fucked Anton's soon-to-be mother in the bathroom of a dive bar in Brooklyn while in the city for a job, and as for the rest, they've all been criminals of some stripe, all dangerous women to the very last. 

But there's no woman more dangerous to a man fast approaching fifty than the one he holds in his arms, soft and beautiful, somehow not yet hardened by the world. If she really knew he was Eddie Quick, she would never give him the time of day, or let him steal a kiss from her sweet lips, again and again. Alaïs. 

"Hello." Breathless from his kisses, her whisper is low and husky, and when she cups his jaw in her hand, he lifts her up, setting her on the edge of the balcony railing. "I believe I was promised 'the best shag of my life'." Her fingers toy with the buttons on his shirt, and she bites her bottom lip, looking up at him from under thick lashes. For a moment, he feels himself drowning in her whiskey eyes, entranced by their spell. 

She tastes of feathers and cream, as though he had all the time in the world to kiss her, as though he never left a string of broken promises behind him. She moans as he slides his hand between her legs, unable to stop himself, feeling her walls clench around his fingers, slick and hot and wet. "Alaïs," Edison groans, her name an incantation. 

Alais pulls down the straps of her dress, watching his face. It pools at her waist, and he strokes her lower back, stepping between her legs to kiss her again, her mouth and legs opening to him, moaning with wanton abandon in his mouth. "Eddie, I'm so close." 

Edison feels a surge of smug satisfaction quicken his blood. You've still got it. He cups the back of her head in his hand, deepening the kiss, feeling her yield to him. It's true, the minute he saw her, all he could think about was how if he didn't kiss her, he'd lose his chance. She'd walk away, and he would never know her name, or ever see her again. She'd be swallowed up by the city night, just another lost chance that slipped from his fingers, like an ordinary life. 

Her walls are clenching hard around him, and he speeds his fingers up, in and out, over her clit, again and again, her legs wrapped around his waist, opening herself to him, and Edison still can't quite believe how lucky he is, to earn this reward for all the time he's served in hell. He takes her nipple in his mouth and she comes, sucking at as he feels it harden under his tongue, her juices running down his hand, fists in his hair, ecstatic cries filling the night like music. Edison presses his mouth to hers, her cheeks are wet. 

"I want you now, Alaïs." He lifts her off the railing, and she opens her eyes, drugged with desire. Her hands cup the bulge in his trousers, stroking, caressing, drawing a deep groan from him. 

"Oh?" Alais snaps his waistband back, darting from his arms, a mischievous light in her eyes. "Then you'd better catch me first." 

Edison mock-growls, and gives chase. 

•••

Veronique doesn't have much of a head start, and the truth is, she wants to be caught. Still, she mock-struggles all the same, squealing as he picks her up and tosses her on the bed, his quick fingers divesting her of her dress, hot gaze devouring her as she lies naked before him. She flicks her nipples teasingly, grazing them up and down with the pads of her fingers, her gaze never leaving his. "I'm thinking of you," she whispers huskily. "Thinking of how good you'll feel inside me."

He grips her thighs, pulling her flush to the edge of the bed, and then his shirt and trousers are on the floor. "Alaïs." His voice is a strangled moan as she sits up, palming his cock through his briefs. He swallows hard as she traces his chest with her fingernails, the defined muscles rippling, tensing as her hands glide down his abdomen. 

"Thinking about how you made me come," she continues, bringing his fingers to her lips, drawing the digits in and sucking her taste off of them one by one. She looks up at him from under her lashes, and his pupils are dark and blown out with lust. "I want you now, Eddie." 

Eddie grabs her wrists, quick as a wink, and pins her to the bed. "Say it again." His teeth graze one nipple, and she writhes under him, blood coursing hot through her veins. 

"I want you, oh god, oh god, Eddie!" Veronique struggles against his hands, and when he sets her free, his attention completely on rolling her nipples between his fingers, she throws one leg over his hip, grinding against his hard length before straddling him. She spreads her legs apart, rocking back and forth atop him, the scent of her arousal filling the space between the two of them. 

Edison grabs her wrist, and flips her over, his teeth scraping her bottom lip. "Tell me a hundred times, Alaïs," he growls, kissing a path down her abdomen, his voice a ragged whisper: “Tell me a thousand times, luv.”

"I want... Oh!" Veronique shudders with pleasure as the tip of his tongue glides over her clit with the lightest pressure, taunting and teasing. "Eddie." She mewls in his grasp as his fingers curl inside of her, moving slowly, so slowly, and she grips his hair, pressing on his head. "Faster... fuck!" 

His breath is warm on her thighs, his voice like a prayer. "Goddamn, I could eat you out all night, Alaïs." His stubble scrapes her thighs, and her mind goes blank. There is only this -- her fingers in his hair as her hips buck wildly, pressing his face hard between her thighs, his fingers thrusting harder, faster, his tongue teasing her clit, and she comes hard, squeezing her thighs around his head as she orgasms, screaming his name. 

Veronique slumps to the bedsheets, shuddering with the tremors of her orgasm as Eddie sucks gently at her clit again, moaning as she comes again, his thumbs digging hard into her thighs. 

"Can't believe I pulled a bird like you in my first week as a free man." Eddie kisses his way back up her belly, stopping at her breasts to cup them in his hands and lavish them with kisses. "How did I do?" 

"You're fucking amazing," Veronique gasps, pulling his head down to hers in a scorching kiss. "I've never come so fast in my life. I mean..." she pushes on his chest, laughing as he pops his eyebrows up and down at her. "You have really quick fingers," she finishes. 

A shit-eating grin spreads across his face, and Eddie winks. "So I've been told, luv."

"Eddie..." Veronique runs her palm down the front of his briefs, and he groans loudly, his length twitching against her hand. 

"I'm not going to let you leave this bed until you can't walk, Alaïs." He groans as she eases down his briefs, her mouth kissing the trail of hair leading down his abdomen to his cock.

He's thick and uncut, the head of his cock glistening as she frees it, moving her hand up and down the shaft, cupping his balls in one hand and lightly tugging on them. His eyes are dark as he looks down at her, and he places a finger under her chin, tilting her head up. 

"Not yet. I'm not quite done kissing you." Eddie pins her wrists to the mattress, kissing her long and hard, inhaling sharply as she wraps her legs around his waist, rocking her hips against his. "Alaïs." 

The way he says her true name, claiming it, claiming her, makes Veronique wish that she really was an ordinary woman tonight, that she wasn't in New York to meet thieves and rogues, that she didn't have to watch her back at all times. But she hasn't been ordinary, not for a long time -- and she never had that chance. 

"Where do you want me?" He strokes the back of her neck, staring into her eyes, and she rolls out of his grasp, getting on all fours. Understanding dawns in his eyes as she looks back at him from over her shoulder. "You good?" Eddie asks, moving the tip of his cock up and down her slippery folds, from her clit to her slit. She nods, and he sinks into her with a loud, ragged groan -- and then starts moving, his fingers pinching her nipples in time with his thrusts, his breath hot and quick on the back of her neck.

"Yes!" Veronique thrusts back against him, keeping the rhythm at a steady pace until his fingers begin moving in vertical strokes up and down her clit, flicking the hood up and then pinching and rolling it between his fingers. Her orgasms come hard, one stacked on top of the next, again and again, the two of them moving faster and faster, slick with sweat. 

The headboard is banging on the wall, and he flips her over, covering her mouth with his as she clenches her walls around his length, pulling her thighs up to his hips as he pounds away inside of her, his fingers on her nipples. He comes with a strangled cry, burying his face in her neck, spending himself deep inside of her. 

"Alaïs." Eddie kisses her neck, her breasts, her lips, before rolling over and pulling her into his arms, her head on his chest. "You've got this old fool wrapped around your little finger."

She kisses his palm, raising herself on one elbow to look at him. "Or maybe I'm wrapped around yours." 

Eddie raises his brows, a cocky grin spreading across his face. "It's good to know I haven't lost my touch." 

•••

Veronique wakes sometime after midnight to Eddie's soft snores. When she pulls from his arms, he jolts up, on sudden high alert, shoving her behind him as though a SWAT team has just busted down the door. "Bloody Christ, it's only you." Eddie sinks back into the pillows, laughing weakly. "I thought..." He rubs his eyes. "Bad dreams. I can't sleep like I used to. If I had the time, I wouldn't let you leave this bed for a week, luv. But ... I'm not some young, fit bloke anymore."

Veronique hides a smile, tracing his muscles with her fingertips. "You look pretty cut to me." 

Eddie kisses the top of her head. When he speaks, his voice is heavy with regret. "I spent a year in the bin. Did some things I'm not proud of. In my line of work... I thought I was doing the right thing." 

She walks a finger up his chest, not making eye contact. "You might not believe me, but I know all about that. I've been to the clink too." Orange jumpsuits and tattoos made with a pen, three dots in a line. How can she explain what happened, without giving it all away? 

Eddie strokes her cheek. She doesn't look up. She can't bear to see judgement in his eyes. 

Veronique would lie, but tonight, as Alaïs, she feels vulnerable and raw, all her layers peeled back. "I was a kid," she says finally. "Just a stupid kid." Stick to the truth as closely as possible. "Me and my best friend got caught stealing a car." There's a lump in her throat.

Grandpere Valentine, the red Cadillac with the tail fins. No one ever found the body, but there were whispers up and down the street. The Mob. The Sicilians. The Irish. 

To this day, she doesn't like to think of it: the ringing silence in the trailer after she came home from school, the cigarette still burning in in the ashtray on the table, a menthol, the kind her grandfather had never smoked. A streak of blood on the kitchen floor, and the cat hiding under the sink, shaking and shaking. He'd run away that night, he'd never returned. Minou. She hasn't thought about him in years, his ragged ears, his yellow eyes. He'd belonged to her mother, Ysabeau, and Valentine had once told the little robber princess that Minou had lived nine lives, waiting for his Ysabeau to come back to him. 

Veronique finds her voice, and she feels Eddie's hand tighten on hers. One week after he disappeared... "That Caddy was in the junkyard at the edge of the desert with the paint stripped from it. We rode it into the desert..." Some things defy explanation. "When we came back, the cops were waiting. Maybe sometimes we need that space, to figure out how to move on."

But she's always been running, always looking over her shoulder. 

Eddie lifts up her chin, and she looks him dead in the eye, expecting to see judgement there. But his eyes are soft, something in his expression she didn't expect. "How old were you? Seventeen?" 

"Fifteen." She'd taken the heat, given herself up, told them Rye had had nothing to do with it. And for whatever reason -- luck, fate, what have you -- they'd believed her. A six month stay in juvie, and then she'd been free. The junkyard hadn't had any records, and by that time the Caddy had been long gone, but their safe had had enough money to fill the ever-growing hole inside. And Alaïs had been buried for good, right along with the memory of the old man. "You must think I'm a terrible person, Eddie." This is why she can never be ordinary. Who else would ever understand, except another criminal? 

She's trembling and she doesn't know why, but when she meets his gaze again, she's surprised by the fierce tenderness she sees in his green eyes. 

"Never." He kisses her with surprising gentleness, contrasting with the roughness in his tone. Eddie cups her cheek, and she feels her trembling cease as he strokes the tears from her lashes with his thumb. "I've met many terrible people in my life, luv. You in't one of them." 

Veronique closes her eyes, letting her body soften and yield as he deepens the kiss, shivering under his steady fingers on her clit as she breaks apart, again and again, her eyes flying wide open at last as she comes, shaking from head to toe. "Eddie," she whimpers, and he kisses her shoulder, pulling her against his chest. 

"I want to keep you in bed for a week, luv," Eddie whispers. Something flickers behind his eyes, and is gone. "I'd take you to London, show you the sights."

"And then we'd go to Avignon," she whispers, continuing the dream. "We'd walk beside the Rhône, and I'd show you my garden." The garden she's never had, the one that lives in her imagination. In the house where Ysabeau lived, during university. before she fell in love with Fitch Lionheart.

"I'd kiss you in the garden, and tug your stockings down with my teeth." He winks, a glint in his eyes, and then he pulls her atop him, the two of them moving in rhythm together, at first slowly, and then faster and faster, his gaze locked on hers, the two of them orgasming together and then collapsing back into the bedsheets, utterly spent.

"I'd never let anyone hurt you again, Alaïs." 

Instead of answering, Veronique kisses his chest, right where the heart beats, soft and steady, lulling her to sleep. A flimsy promise, and she knows it. 

After all, we only have tonight.

•••

Niles Edison, alias Eddie Quick, wakes up to a dawning day, in the quiet hour before the city wakes. Careful not to disturb the sleeping woman next to him, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, feeling suddenly old. He walks on silent feet to collect his clothes, careful to be -- Quiet as a thief. The thought makes the edges of his lips curl up. A year in the bin is nothing. You've still got it, old chap.

There's something to be said, after all, for being able to pull a woman fifteen years or so his junior. He can still smell her scent on his skin, sugar and caramel, feathers and cream.

He remembers another woman for a moment, another morning like this one, nearly eighteen years ago. Cami. Another ordinary woman he left behind, who wanted Niles Edison, not the kind of law-abiding, upstanding man that Eddie Quick could never be. 

But Alaïs would be worth it, a tiny voice whispers in his head. Another chance. It's not too late, old man. 

But it is. Edison pushes the thoughts away, sliding his signet ring back on, ready to go. His feet carry him to the bed, and he looks down upon her sleeping form, curled up on her side, thinking of the way she fit so perfectly into his arms, a reward for a life hard spent. If he kissed her now -- She's not for you. She deserves an ordinary life. 

Edison knows how Henry II felt. Though he is a rogue and not a king, he understands about the kind of women a man loses his head over, though he'd thought himself too wise for it, a folly of youth. Such is a woman like Alaïs, the kind of woman who makes kings lose their heads and crooked rogues go straight. 

As he turns to go, the gleam of something small and precious catches his eye. He crouches on the floor, stifling a wince as his knees crack. Thought you could shag all night like a young bloke, you daft old codger. He draws a silver chain out of Alaïs's clutch purse, feeling a slight twinge of guilt. A malachite teardrop lays in his palm, the kind of artifact museums pay a million pounds for at auction. 

He hears her stirring as he opens the door, and he looks back like a damned man, already too far gone to turn back the clock. Her golden tresses shine in the soft light, and she rolls over, smiling in her sleep. Eddie Quick closes his fist around the pendant, and with one last glance back, makes his his mind up. 

•••

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[boneandfur]

Six Sentence Sunday

Edison feels a surge of smug satisfaction quicken his blood. You've still got it. He cups the back of her head in his hand, deepening the kiss, feeling her yield to him. It's true, the minute he saw her, all he could think about was how if he didn't kiss her, he'd lose his chance. She'd walk away, and he would never know her name, or ever see her again. She'd be swallowed up by the city night, just another lost chance that slipped from his fingers, like an ordinary life.

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[boneandfur]

Six Sentence Sunday (the heist: Monaco fic)

There are many possible futures. Ysabeau holds her daughter's palm up. The two of them are sitting together in the bedroom, waiting for their nails to dry. Early spring sunlight, weak and pale, filters through the cracks in the shade.

This is your life line, it tells you how long the string of your life is. The right hand is the life that is marked out for you to live, but the left hand is the life you might have lived. And through it all runs the line of Fate, the things that you can never change.

Veronique looks down at her hand, seeing her mother's French tips tracing the lines, and shivers.

~ from Restless Farewell, ch 3.

[lorirwritesfanfic]

🛒 ⛔ ❌

Hi, Lily! ❤️ I hope you're doing well.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

I use omniscient narrative a lot because I like adding characters' body language, thoughts and feelings and some scene descriptions. My fics come to me as if there were sneak peeks of a movie and I do my best to connect those little scenes together and put into words so the reader can visualize the story as well.

I also like adding details about characters that they're not mine as I write. It's nothing that will alter their essence and make them ooc. Just a few quirks, traits and little memories to make them more realistic to me. E.g. giving Prince Hamid allergy to seafood and Rafael Aveiro had long hair until he was five.

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

Oh, I have tons of those 😌

I had a Treasure Hunters AU fic for Kamilah Sayeed x MC that I didn't write because I realized I know very little about Kamilah and nothing about treasure hunts. My only reference was White Collar (a series that I love in which the main character goes on many "treasure hunts", so to speak 😁). I even tried watching Indiana Jones to see if I could get some inspiration, but there are too many scenes with snakes in the movie and I have ophidiophobia... So I closed the Netflix tab and said "yeah, not gonna happen..." 😅

I planned Professional Rivals AU for Miss Parsons x F!OC. Annabelle would be a professional actress and dancer making an audition for the main character of a play and Veronica (F!OC) would audition for the same part, but one of the producers of the play would suggest Veronica to play as the love interest. Lots of wlw cute scenes, some drama (because why not). But I had creative block back then and stopped writing. When I decided to continue that story, it was gone. I had to hard reset my phone a few times last year and I thought I had saved all my wips in one of my cloud storage accounts. I think I deleted it by accident while removing old outlines and first drafts. I kinda want to try again, but I don't know where to start... 🙁

There was a part of the fandom that was crazy about Niles Edison and an anon asked me to write a Niles Edison x MC for 2019 Kinktober. I wasn't crazy about him. Most of the time, I barely remembered he was there. (There's Fabien, Tillie, Rye and Eris in THM! No offense to who likes Niles, why would I care about some random white old dude?). But I was trying to be the "yay! send me fic requests, people!" kind of writer and said yes. That was my biggest mistake as fanfic writer, btw. With time, I realized I was getting overwhelmed trying to answer requests for ships I didn't like in hopes people would read my stories and they still didn't. So I hit the "fuck this shit" button and decided to write just what I know I will have fun writing and reading.

During that same year I was trying to be a people pleaser, I got tons of requests of certain person who kept sending me N*FW sentences prompts that I often found OOC for the characters involved. But since this person is no longer part of Choices fandom, I deleted the outlines I did for those requests and live my life blissfully knowing that person won't pester me with a new request 😁

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

ABO. I tried, but every time something about mating, heat cycles and bestiality came up, it became hard for me to read 😣

The only stories involving werewolves that I liked were Blood Moon IF and Lust Under The Moon (Moments). I didn't read Blood Moon enough to understand its universe (I started reading it in the very beginning. I think it only had four chapters and I read one), but in LUTM mating was a choice, not some Twilight imprinting thing.

Thanks for the ask, dear!

Have a wonderful weekend 😘

[ask me stuff about my writing, people]

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Hi, Lori! Could you answer 5, 6, 8 and 12 for the fic writer ask game? 😊

Hi, Dani! Thanks for asking! 😍

5. If you couldn’t finish (one of) your wip(s) for some reason, what writer would you trust with finishing it, if any? (asker can choose what wip)

Is it wrong to say that I’m extremely possessive of my stories and MCs/OCs? Because I totally am 🙈

But maybe I’d give some requests I got that I’m not attached to. I think I’d give my Kamilah x F!OC wip to @myclevernamehere (who’s no longer writing Choices, but I’d totally trust he’d write an amazing Kamilah x Maisie story), Niles Edison x F!MC kinktober fic from 2019 to @boneandfur because she’s a fantastic writer who wrote Niles x MC before and Colt x MC fics to somebody who writes Colt better than me? LOL lots of people write Colt better than I ever did. You would be one of my first choices if you were comfortable writing smut.

6. What is your favourite sense to incorporate in your writing and why?

Definitely smell. I think it’s the one sense that brings me the most vivid memories, so I tend to add scent of beauty and personal hygiene products, food, a character’s favorite flower when I write fluff, smut or hurt/comfort.

12. What headcanon will you keep implementing in your fics, even if canon ends up contradicting it?

I like to give real family ties to characters because Choices authors suck at giving characters real family bonds (HSS dad, MFTL sister and Nadia are probably the only exceptions). I gave Jade a fierce royal grandmother; I gave Samantha and Natasha sisters, I gave a glimpse of Hamid’s relationship with the most of his family members, I gave Yusuf a brother, I write Daphne being close to Harry and Edmund and even gave her that one distant cousin who’s royal and very powerful 😁  

Fanfic writer ask

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Could you please answer 1, 3 and 8 for the fanfic writers ask?

Hello, dear @missameliep! Thanks for asking ❤

1. Who is the hardest character for you to write?

I used to say it was Colt (we even talked about me not knowing his motivations and backstory lol), but right now I have to say it's Niles Edison from The Heist: Monaco. Good lord, why did I ever think I could write a side character if I barely remember the scenes he was included? I'm so sorry to the anon who asked me to write a Niles x F!MC fic. I'm not giving up on it but whenever I open that WIP with one single paragraph, all I can think of is "onde é que eu fui amarrar meu burro, senhor?" 

3. How do you know if your writing is “in character”?

I'm pretty hard on myself about this, so I constantly replay the books to re-read scenes and make notes about the characters. I check each character's fandom wiki a lot. All my MCs (who usually tend to be more like OCs) and OCs have their own character profile, even if I only added a few traits like name, age, profession, a couple of personality traits. I only take a few liberties once I feel more confident writing those characters.

I've heard more than once I don't have to do that. But I'm either fully invested on writing a character or I just don't care and won't write them.

8. What is a scene you wrote that you are most proud of? 

Well, since I got another ask with the same question, I’ll write one here and another one there 😁 I’m proud of emotionally hurting Liam on A Letter to Elise. I did think I couldn’t do it back then and it took me three months to write one single fic. And I'm glad I did it because he needed a chance to mourn his losses.

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Fanfic writer asks 7. What fic of yours makes you the most emotional? 8. What is a scene you wrote that you are most proud of? 9. Is there one character that you refuse to write? why? 10. When you write fics, how much of canon are you willing to ignore/skip over?

Hi @kenna-and-val-are-my-queens ❤ Thanks for asking!

(I went a little overboard with this so the answers are under the cut hahaha)

7. What fic of yours makes you the most emotional? 

I’m not gonna lie, I’m a crybaby, so I’ve cried a lot when I was writing and re-reading some of my stories. But I have to mention the following ones. 

In my Bloodbound series, it wasn’t easy to write Jax ignoring Samantha (MC) on Breakdown after they “broke up”. No, they weren’t officially dating, but still...

My muse loves adding drama to Daphne’s(MC) life in my Desire & Decorum modern day AU and I suffered a lot with her. On From Lovers To Something Else Part 3 and Part 4, Intuition and Patience, she gets involved on scandals that smear her name on tabloids, breaks up with her first love to save his family, Lady Dominique slut-shames her, and then when she’s about to find happiness again... BAM! Literally.

I had this headcanon about Logan’s early life to my Ride or Die series, but I couldn’t get into many details on Making New Memories because I was writing on a schedule (it was part of December challenge), but it was for the best. I mean, my Logan is black, so getting into the backstory of a black kid going from one foster family to another could be a little too much for a Christmas fic that was supposed to be fluff. I didn’t write that headcanon yet, but the ending still made me cry for a good reason.

I wrote several fics in The Royal Romance series that made me cry, especially the ones involving Jade’s (MC) backstory and her mental illness (Break, Past/Present Tense, Projections - Part 2). But my theory on who killed Liam’s mother and how he copes with it on A Letter To Elise and Drake ending his relationship with Jade on Depression - Part 1 also need to be mentioned because I struggled a lot with those.

8. What is a scene you wrote that you are most proud of? 

Well since I got another ask with the same question, I’ll write one here and another one there 😁 I’m proud of finding a way to add chemistry between Drake, Hana and Leo. Those characters barely interact with each other in canon, so creating chemistry from scratch is exciting and a bit daunting for me. I’m still working on that improbable love triangle, but I’m proud of what I wrote so far.

9. Is there one character that you refuse to write? Why? 

I usually don’t write characters I hate or don’t see what the fuss is about. So it’s a definitive no on most Open Heart characters (I only made an exception for Rafael because he’s adorable and that book doesn’t deserve him ❤) and Tristan Richards. I was challenged to write the first LI on Choicesverse that I actually hate (Beckett) and I only thought about writing him because my OC was actually going to torture him during sex then break his heart showing off with her new boyfriend, but I don’t think the person who challenged me would like that hahaha

I’m also this close to giving up on Niles Edison x F!MC request I got in October because I have zero ideas of how to write him.

10. When you write fics, how much of canon are you willing to ignore/skip over?

I guess it depends on the story. The books I truly like the canon version, I simply add a few "missing scenes" (TRR 1 and 2, Bloodbound, Perfect Match). Even in AUs like my D&D series, I still made a few modern adaptations to a couple of the original scenes that I like. But I don’t mind ignoring canon completely as long as the characters’ essences remain intact. Writing OCC is completely off the table for me. 

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Are you going to catch up on the kinktober fics or did they get scrapped? I always look forward to your writings and can’t wait to see what you bless upon us in the new year! 💜

Hi there, anon!

I was looking through my WIP folder to see what to write next and my first options are requests, including Kinktober fics.

Rafael x MC and Raleigh x MC fics are half way there, I'm going to rewrite a couple of things on Liam x MC piece and Thomas x MC one has a few paragraphs written. My only struggle is with the Niles Edison request and I'll probably have to break through my timidness and ask for help from a Niles stan 😅

Thank you so much for asking and for your kind words. Happy new year/decade! ❤

[boneandfur]

Current projects:

Rosemary Lane ~ Briar goes with Marlcaster to a house party hosted by the widowed Duchess of Karlington. But everyone has a secret, and when Rosamund's Cousin Maximilian shows up unexpectedly, past misdeeds come to light... (D&D/TRR Xover, Series, N*FW)

Restless Farewell ~ Veronique has a one night stand with a man she meets in NYC as she tries to let go of her past and lay old ghosts to rest. But when the truth comes out, will she find she has put her trust in the wrong person? (The Heist: Monaco, N*FW. Series.) Niles Edison x MC

Theda returns for another NSFW ABC as she tries her hand at method acting. Pairing: secret. (ROD Xover)

Bread and Circus: ACOR, N*FW HBO Rome X over.

On Hiatus: too many to list

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Do you write for any choices characters, or only certain ones/only ones who are li’s? I have a total weak spot for Niles Edison and would kill for some smut with my thiefy man 😭💜

Usually, I write what I like, regardless of the pairings being canon or not (e.g. I write Han x AME MC and Jax Matsuo x Liv Denara). I can make a few exceptions for some people when I write characters I don't like if I get a specific prompt, but I don't do it often.

Niles was actually included in my list of pairings for Kinktober because of a headcanon I had while writing The Spot and I paired him with Eris (she called him a DILF in my fic and I thought about writing something related to it). I could pair him with default THM MC (you can specify the gender) or write a rarepair/crackship, as long as the other character is a consenting adult.

[choiceswreckedme]

This is amazing! You've outdone yourself again. This is the content I've wanted since TH:M began but I've never found the mojo to write it myself!

Can't wait for more! ❤

Restless Farewell [N*FW][1/3]

Summary: Veronique goes to The City That Never Sleeps to recruit a thief, instead she meets a man with whom she can be ordinary with for just one night. But is he really who he seems? // Pairing: Niles Edison (Thief) x THM F!MC // Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ LEMON. By clicking on “read more”, you are verifying that you are old enough to be reading this fic. // Words: 2935 // Notes: this is the precursor to the sneak peek I posted. It is canon-divergent in some places, although it sticks to the canon story-line as much as possible The first fic in this series takes place in NYC, the night before MC and Rye meet with Niles Edison aka Eddie Quick in Washington Square Park. I HC the MC to be in their 30s and Edison to be late 40s. It’s full of angst and smut. If you like those two things, proceed! Lyrics are from the song Restless Farewell by Bob Dylan.

Keep reading

[tabithacarlisle]

“But there’s no woman more dangerous to a man fast approaching fifty than the one he holds in his arms, soft and beautiful, somehow not yet hardened by the world.” - just one of many of my favorite lines of yours in this one @boneandfur - another work of art! I love this series of yours with Niles and all of your fics. Please, please put me on your Perma-tag list :)

Restless Farewell [2/3][N*FW]

Summary: Veronique and Edison share their hopes and dreams. But will their connection dissipate in the harsh light of morning? // Words: 3390 // Pairing: Niles Edison x F!MC // Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ LEMONY GOODNESS

CHAPTER TWO

In the bathroom mirror, Veronique adjusts her dress, removing the pendant from around her neck and dropping it into her clutch. Why borrow trouble? It’s obvious that both of them are pretending to be someone else, and tonight, it’s enough for her to be Alaïs one last time, before she locks that door forever. Lionheart. The name rings in her head, like funerary bells tolling, but she pushes it away too.

Tonight is for life, not funerary rites.

If all goes according to plan, tomorrow evening she’ll be on the red-eye flight back to Europe, laying Alaïs to rest once and for all, the slate wiped clean.

So why does it feel like such a betrayal? 

She sweeps out of the room to find Eddie nowhere in sight. “Eddie?” There’s a whistle from the balcony, and when Veronique steps outside, Eddie is standing there in his shirtsleeves. The sight of him with his sleeves rolled up, hair on his sculpted forearms, does funny things to her insides, making her stomach flip. 

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