#Steel Magnolias Au

[wardenparker]

Small Towns and Second Chances

Steve Murphy x female reader Steel Magnolias AU Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16.9k Warnings: Mentions of divorce and incarceration, small town gossip dynamics, ‘exotic’  eats, generalized trash talking of Connecticut, reference to reader borrowing clothes from another character, alcohol consumption, references to drug use/addiction, references to previous unhappy/abusive marriage. Steve Murphy is packing I will not accept criticism, public nudity, skinny dipping, oral sex (f receiving), hair pulling, outdoor sex, water sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, public sex.  Summary: Newly retired DEA Agent Steve Murphy returns to his hometown after being served with divorce papers upon his return from Colombia. Unfortunately, his first day back is also the day of his next door neighbor’s wedding. But fortunately - you are there, too. (Loosely follows the plot of the beginning of the film Steel Magnolias. But if you’ve never seen it, don’t worry!) Notes: Utter and total self-indulgence. I watched Steel Magnolias for the first time a while ago and Keri is a criminal enabler when it comes to all things fantasy related - so here we are! 😁❤

Nothing seems to have changed in Evangeline Parish. At least not that Steve can tell. Same storefronts as there had always been in Ville Platte when he had driven through, the windows rolled down and the sweet, slightly sickly scent of blooming flowers flowing through the cab along with the humidity. Same heavy sun beating down on the few that hadn't retreated to the shade while they tried to cool themselves down with whatever could be turned into a fan. Maybe it was insane to want to come back to Louisiana in spring, but after the past six years that he had – all he wanted to do was go home.

Home wasn't in Miami anymore. Maybe it would have been if there hadn't been a manilla envelope of divorce papers sitting on the coffee table when he had shown up at the apartment of his wife and daughter when he had been allowed to come back to the States. Maybe it would have been if the past two years in Colombia hadn't left an indelible mark on his very soul. But there had been, and it had, so he had taken the papers and the keys to the truck that Connie had been good enough to crank up once a week for him and shoved his bags into the passenger seat before he set out for home. Back to Chinquapin, Louisiana.

The screams, chaos, and gunshots coming out of the Eatenton house next door were the kind of cacophony that only a backyard Southern wedding could produce, and the army of different company trucks and employees racing around the property proved it. But the only scream he was looking out for – the best one of the whole batch – came from the twentysomething girl hanging out of the top floor bedroom right in the corner of the big, familiar, clean white house on the corner.

“Steve!” His little sister was hanging out so far that she was practically on the roof, waving frantically at the truck as she watched it pull into the driveway. By the time he parked, he wagered she would be downstairs ready to hug the life out of him. “Mama! Daddy! Steve’s home!”

"Tater!" He grins out the window of his truck as the exuberant expression on her face falls into a scowl that promises an elbow to the gut, and she throws him a rude gesture that would have Mama scolding her. Chuckling when she disappears out the window and he can hear the thundering of her feet down the steps. Another thing that hasn't changed.

“Three brothers and you’re the only one I like except for that dumb ass nickname.” His sister grumps, throwing herself off the stairs to ring her arms around his neck and hug him anyway.

“Tabitha Leigh Murphy, we do not swear in this house.” Their mother frowns in the mud room doorway, but only for effect. She’s overjoyed to have her sweetest tempered child home again, even if the circumstances are a little less than ideal. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” she murmurs, extending open arms to her son. “We missed you.”

"Thanks Ma." Steve wraps his mother up in his arms and sighs. She's shorter than he is, he has to bend down to press his face into her neck like he used to when he was little, but the scent of Revlon Charlie was a staple memory of his childhood. As much as he hates why he is here, he's happy to be home. He's missed the craziness. Flinching when another gunshot blast rings out. "Jesus fucking Christ!" He hisses, pulling away from his mama.

"What did I just say to your sister?" His mother scowls dramatically, smacking his arm before shaking her head. "You barely made it before Shelby Eatenton's wedding, Steven. Go shower and pull out one of those nice suits I know you have packed away. Your sister's got to get over to Miss Truvy's before Shelby and M'Lynn have their appointments. The way Drum Eatenton had been shooting away at the birds all morning it was a wonder that there were even any trees left.”

The way Tater is grinning at him makes him roll his eyes, reaching out and tugging on his sister's hair. "You can go get my bags out of the truck since I have to shower, Tater." He teases, turning and taking the stairs four at a time to get away from her swat.

"Hank!" No amount of scowls from their mother ever keeps the youngest Murphy sibling from hollering through the house, and it wouldn't right now, either. "Tyler! Mama says to come help unload Steve's shit from the truck!" There's work to be done and it can get done a hell of a lot faster if her brothers get involved. No way would she try to get Hank Murphy's precious, dainty wife to do anything helpful, but at least their sister-in-law was behaving herself today. There hadn't been any mean comments about Steve's divorce all morning.

Steve hears a shout from Hank but he doesn't pay much attention, walking down the hall and into the bedroom that hadn't changed since he had gone off to college. Through the door on the side to the Jack-and-Jill he had shared with his oldest brother until he had left for school three years before Steve had.

Piles of boxes are what are left for Steve around his room, and the unmistakable whiff of one of Tyler Murphy's stink bombs left behind as a welcome for his older brother. All four of the Murphy kids had grown up as close as they could, but that meant being as much each other's friendly adversaries as they were confidantes. It was a good way to grow up, even if the brothers had grown apart a little as they got older.

Sighing softly, Steve starts to strip down, knowing that his brothers will bring his bags in by the time he gets out of the shower. They might go through them to make fun of his clothes, but he doesn't give a shit about that.

******

Truvy's Beauty Spot has been a town institution for Tabitha Leigh's entire life, and Miss Truvy Jones herself was probably privy to every single up and down of the Murphy family's life the same way she was privy to everybody else's in town. She'd even dated Miss Truvy's son Louie in high school, for all the good in the world that that did her. Today she's excited, though. Shelby Eatenton was a sort of loose friend all through school just based on the fact that they were next door neighbors, and news of Steve’s arrival would surely be good gossip for Miss Truvy and the other ladies.

"Miss Truvy?" Tabitha Leigh sticks her head in the open door of the Jones house/salon. "I know I'm a little early, but I had to get away from all the chaos. Mr. Eatenton is trying to poke holes in every cloud over Louisiana."

Truvy turns and gives the younger woman a bright smile, her large blonde hair not swaying a bit under her eager nod of agreement. “Come on in honey, I’ll be happy to have the company.” She says.

"Steve's home!" She reports gleefully, galloping in the front door and dropping comfortably into the first styling chair she sees. "Mama's gonna make him come to Shelby's wedding whether he likes it or not and I finally have my favourite brother back again."

"Really?" Truvy’s brow arches and she pauses from tearing some foils for coloring to turn and look at the youngest Murphy child and only girl. "Just last week you were saying Tyler was your favorite because he brought you home a pint of rocky road ice cream."

"No, I said he saved himself from being my least favourite," Tabitha Leigh corrects matter-of-factly. "Now that's Hank, because his wife is a hateful little princess and I—" The only thing that could possibly cut off her diatribe about how much she dislikes her sister-in-law is the appearance of an unknown woman in the doorway, and Tabitha Leigh sits up in the chair with curiosity. "Well, hello. You're new."

"I...yeah. I'm new." Carrying the armful of towels that Miss Truvy asked you to fetch and fold from the dryer, you inch into the doorway and look to your new boss with what you're sure is the same expression that lost puppy dogs have. It is literally your first day of work at Truvy's Beauty Spot and you stumbled into the biggest wedding the town has seen all year. "Miss Truvy, where should I put these?"

"Right over here, honey." Truvy had known you were a timid thing, but she had hoped you would be comfortable around a bunch of women. "Open up that cabinet and just set them right inside. Show her, Tabitha Leigh."

"In here." Tabitha Leigh doesn't even look, just reaches behind her to open the cabinet above her head. "You Judy's replacement?" She asks, wondering how Miss Truvy could have gotten anyone in so fast. "Hell of a day for you to start."

"I'm starting to get that," you laugh quietly, more of a nervous titter that anything else. The other ladies who had started to materialize this morning were older than this young woman, but all of them seemed to be on the same level as far as gossip is concerned. That should make it pretty easy to learn about your new home, thank goodness.

"She'll get the hang of it." Truvy declares with confidence before she turns back to Tabitha Leigh. "So, tell me how Steve's doing?" She demands, turning to check that the curlers are plugged in for when Shelby gets here. "I saw his picture in the paper when the story broke."

"Mama and Daddy are just about as pleased as anything." Tabitha Leigh kicks her feet up on the nearest bit of empty table and leans back comfortably. "He went to Washington and got all kinds of congratulations and even met the president. But..." she glances around, conspiracy written all over her face as the other ladies lean in like moths being beckoned to a flame. "Connie served him with divorce papers as soon as he got back to Miami. So now he's home again, and good riddance to her." Tabitha Leigh may not have exactly disliked Steve's wife, but she and Connie were both strong minded women who didn't quite get along. Now it seemed like the woman had never appreciated her fantastic brother for everything he was worth in the first place, so why bother?

Truvy tuts and shakes her head. "Don't know why she would want to do a fool thing like that." She huffs. "That boy is as handsome as homemade sin."

"Which is much better than store bought sin," Clairee chimes in, shaking a little as she laughs. "I guess we'll all have to dote on Agent Steven Murphy a little at the wedding so he doesn't get glum about things."

"Agent Steven Murphy...like the man in the papers and on tv?" Your head tilts as it pops up from where you were starting to set Miss Clairee's hair in curlers. "The man that caught Pablo Escobar is your brother?"

Tabitha Leigh beams proudly. "Sure is." She hasn't had anyone new in town to tell about her fantastic big brother in ages. "He has some stories to tell and honestly? I couldn't be more proud of him."

"Shit." The mild curse is out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, but a second later your eyes are wide and you're grimacing in your new boss's direction. "I mean shoot. Sorry, Miss Truvy. I just...that's so cool!" You would much rather hear other people's stories than tell your own – having nothing but rough or boring tales to tell of your own life until now. And no one likes to be sad on a wedding day. Any wedding day.

Tabitha Leigh nods in agreement and opens her mouth to talk about her darling big brother some more but Shelby walks in and the women start to crowd around her, asking her questions for a few minutes before Truvy shoos them away and settles the bride into her own chair. "Now, you aren't getting cold feet now, are you honey?" She asks Shelby teasingly, the woman being a few minutes late for her appointment.

"My brothers hid my shoes." Shelby groans, shooting a grin at Tabitha Leigh. No one knows the trials and tribulations of too many brothers the way they do. "So Mama walloped them, which was the highlight of my morning besides the bubble bath."

Truvy laughs and shakes her head. "Boys will be boys." She hums. "And mama's will whoop them." She thinks about her own son. "I walloped mine plenty of times for pulling pranks."

"And who is this?" M'Lynn Eatenton asks in between laughing with the rest of them, gesturing much more gently to you than the other women had.

"The new Judy." Clairee offers you a smile as you set the last curler in her hair. "Although our new friend has a much gentler touch, thank goodness. We've just been acquainting her with all our town news while we get ready for Shelby's big day."

Tabitha Leigh grins and gives you a small shrug. "We aren't always this crazy." She promises with a chuckle.

"Oh, don't lie to the girl," Truvy jokes, picking up a brush and setting to work on Shelby's fantastical updo. "We most certainly are always like this. It's part of our charm to be gossips and secret sharers."

"Well, I'm a veritable vault," you promise, offering the ladies a smile. "All the people I've met so far are the people in this room, so there's no one for me to hear gossip from but you all."

"You should come." Shelby says suddenly, turning to her mama to make sure that she approves. She's not the one who has dealt with the caterer, M'Lynn has. "To my wedding. It'll be a perfect time to meet people."

"Oh, I don't want to impose." The suggestion makes you recoil slightly, looking down at the bride's mother as if she might flinch or roll her eyes or something equally disapproving. "I—I mean that's very kind of you, of course. But I'm not sure I would have anything to wear." It's the best excuse you can come up with at such short notice, not wanting to tell the kind ladies the actual reason that you have no desire to go anywhere near a wedding right now. That would make you the object of plenty of gossip yourself, and the reason you picked up and moved somewhere entirely different was to stop being gossiped about.

"No, you should!" Truvy eyes you up and down and shakes her head. "I'm sure I have a dress that you can borrow."

Shit. Holding in the fact that you feel like a deer caught in the headlights of these ladies' massive car, you plaster a sweet smile on your face and nod. "Well...alright then. If you're sure." You'll go for just a little while, say hello, and then disappear. That will be the best way, you decide. "I'm sure it will be beautiful."

"Of course it will be." Shelby giggles happily as only a blushing bride can. "I'm marrying the perfect man." Her happy grin is soft and every woman sighs slightly, remembering their own weddings.

"It'll be beautiful, darlin," Truvy coos as she works on Shelby's hair. "You're gonna be just the most beautiful bride in the whole world, and you'll never, ever forget your day." She grins salaciously. "Or tonight, if Jackson does his job right."

The hoots and catcalls ring out in the room and Tabitha Leigh grins at the slightly uncomfortable look on M'Lynn's face at the idea of her baby doing that. "Who says he's not already done that job?" She asks, winking at Shelby.

"Did a little bit of it down at the lake after the rehearsal supper last night," Shelby grins, cheeks pink with the admission as the other ladies hoot and holler. For your part, you keep your head down and focus on your task, leaving them to their chatter. Weddings aren't exactly your favourite thing in the world, but Shelby Eatenton seems sweet, and she seems genuinely happy. For her sake, you just hope things stay that way.

“Shelby!” M’Lynn shakes her head at her daughter and gives a small laugh. She can’t blame her; she was the same way the night before her own wedding. “You just wait until you get to the hotel in New Orleans tonight, ya hear?” She warns her playfully. “No coat closets.”

"Alright, mama." Shelby grins, making dubious eye contact with Truvy in the mirror that makes both women snicker playfully. "Cross my heart."

******

Steve was used to being in a suit, he spent plenty of time in them at the Embassy. Stiff, he shuffles slightly in place and looks around, trying to ignore the looks of pity he’s receiving.

You've stayed on the outskirts of things, not getting in the way and simply waving hello to Shelby after you and Miss Truvy arrived to the Eatenton house from the church for the reception. Your boss had found something deep in her closet that you could actually manage to wear and kept you at her side in the church, but now that it's time for a party Miss Truvy seems to be in her element. Since you are much less at ease today, you've tucked yourself under a tree in the backyard to observe from afar, wondering how long you need to stay to be considered polite. There hasn't been a single wedding day that you've enjoyed including your own, so this one was no exception.

Out of everyone here, there seems to be two people who aren’t enjoying the festivities. Steve and the woman that he spots over at another table across the back yard. He doesn’t recognize her and wonders if she’s from Jackson’s side of the family. There’s some of them that he doesn’t recognize. His bottle of beer is nearly warm, sweating, and he could use a conversation that doesn’t involve explaining his divorce, so he decides to abandon his table and start making his way across the grass towards her.

If you had claimed not to notice him, it would have been a dirty lie. Not only did the tall blond man stand head and shoulders above the other guests with his natural height, but he was easily the best looking out of every man here as well. Then there was the fact that you’d seen his face all over the news – but hell, the tv didn’t do him justice. You don’t get to see just how blue those eyes are on a tiny little TV set. It makes it doubly shocking, for you at least, that you didn’t see him approach you. Maybe you were just too caught up in your own memories. Maybe you were too caught up in a daydream. You’re not sure, but either way, you didn’t notice DEA Agent Steve Murphy walking across the yard at you until he was nearly by your side.

The new beers that he had grabbed were in his hand and he sets one on the tall table covered with a snow-white cloth and decorated with some little flower thing in the middle. "You look like me." He observes with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Like you'd rather be at the dentist than this wedding."

“Oh, I—um—” The protest is on the top of your tongue. How weddings are such lovely things. How you feel lucky to be able to celebrate with new acquaintances. But just like the tv didn’t do his looks any justice, it also never got across how warm and magnetic his presence is. He’s got a voice like butter with only the barest trace of an accent left, speaking of years and years away from this place. “I don’t know anyone,” you admit, glancing up at him.

Eager to have a friend in misery, Steve perks up slightly and transfers the beer to his left hand. Wiping the wetness away on his suit trousers, he offers his hand for you to take. "Steve Murphy." He flashes you a grin. "Now you know someone."

Your hand is small in his when you take it, and you give him your name after only a second of flustering. “I know who you are,” you admit, sheepish expression painted over your face even though you won’t tell him that it’s from the news. “I met your sister this morning. Over at Truvy’s.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes. "Whatever Tater told you, it's a lie, okay?" He promises, sure that his baby sister is already causing him trouble. "I did not do half the things she says I did, including cutting off all the heads of her dolls. That was Tyler." He grins and takes a sip of his beer because he had technically kidnapped them for his brother to decapitate but his excuse was that he had been twelve at the time.

The pure and unadulterated sibling-hood is strong, and it makes you grin as you pick up the beer that he set down in front of you. “She did nothing but sing your praises, actually. Favourite brother and so happy you’re home and all that.” You throw him a slightly shady look and smirk. “But Tater is an awful nickname so maybe she was wrong after all.”

"Short for Tater Tot." He gives a small shrug and grins, knowing it's horrible but it does have some bit of reasoning behind it. "When she was a little thing, she loved tater tots and would beg me for mine." He tells you, looking across the yard and spotting his younger sister laughing with Shelby and cooing over her wedding dress. "She would climb up in my lap and eat them off my plate, just singing 'tater tots' over and over."

“And my guess is that she’ll kill you for telling a complete stranger that story.” The first sip of cold beer goes down like cool rain, making you hum happily. “It’s very sweet, though.”

“Probably, but you aren’t a complete stranger now, are you?” He asks, with a grin. It’s nice to commiserate with someone who wasn’t overjoyed at young love. Fuck, he needs to call Peña again.

“I guess not.” He has an easy charm that you’re sure he wielded like a weapon when he was younger, and you could swear that the warmth in your cheeks isn’t from the oppressive heat this time. “Everybody’s been real nice. I’m grateful.”

“Oh, they’re friendly.” He watches as everyone socializes. “Crazy as hell, but friendly. So it’s good to be home.”

“Crazy can be good. Crazy makes life interesting.” You sip your beer again, glancing at his face out of the corner of your eye. God he’s so much more handsome in person…

“So where are you from?” He asks, looking over at you. “Few people choose to move to Chinquapin, Louisiana.

“Last place before this was Alabama.” There had been plenty of places before that, but the last three years wasted in Mobile, Alabama really were wasted, as far as you’re concerned. “Originally? Connecticut.”

Steve nods and wonders what else you’re hiding. You twitched and your response was paused, as if you were making sure you had your story straight. He didn’t think you were some criminal, but the agent in him took notice. ��A Yankee huh?” He flashes you a grin. “So how you like it here?”

“It’s a good thing I like summer so much,” you joke, wondering how he can possibly survive the Louisiana humidity in a suit. “And the grub is good. So I figure I’ll stay a while longer.”

“Food is good.” He had missed some homemade Cajun food while he had been in Colombia. “Well, we like to be welcoming, so you stay as long as you like. We’ll end up calling you family.”

That tightens your smile slightly – not having the best associations with family in general can make the idea of even brand-new ties very intimidating. “Thanks,” you murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice.

Steve turns and takes another sip of his beer, wondering again what makes that smile tighten like that. Instead of asking he nods towards the table. “Mrs. Maisy’s catering has the best gator tail and shrimp this side of New Orleans,” he offers.

You laugh before you can stop yourself, obviously thinking he’s joking, but he the expression on his face reads amusement-laced-seriousness. “I’ve never had gator,” you admit, finding his eyes are completely set on you. “Guess I’m gonna have to try it.”

He sends you a wink, happy to have someone not giving him the ‘poor Steve’ speech. Nodding towards the table, he chuckles. “How about now? She’ll run out if we aren’t careful.”

“Sure. Let’s give it a go.” Though you don’t have the faintest idea why he chose to talk to you or why he’s being so nice, you have to admit that you enjoy being around him. It’s probably relieving to have someone who isn’t hounding him for gossip about his divorce or trying to set him up like you’re sure the older ladies are doing, and that makes you the perfect person to be around. You’re brand new – no need for gossip and definitely no desire to talk about marriages. And besides which…something as silly as a wink should not be that sexy. So you’re not about to turn down his company.

Having you with him keeps people from come up and giving him sympathetic speeches about keeping his chin up or he will find someone new, so he keeps you close. Selfish? Maybe. But he likes the way you laugh and he honestly thinks you could use a friend too. “But I have to warn you, watch out for the punch, the menfolk always spike it.” He leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Menfolk, huh?” His breath on your neck makes you shiver a little, as ridiculous as it is, and you find that the way he grins at you when you tease him makes you giddy the way you haven’t felt in years. It’s unnerving and exciting and you don’t know whether to run or beg for more. “Yankee girls don’t grow up on moonshine so maybe I should stay away.”

“All depends on how good of a time you wanna have.” He jokes and his hand rests on your back as he guides you to the tables laden with food.

You really did promise yourself you weren’t going to get involved with another man. Not so soon after everything. This new beginning was supposed to be about you and you alone. Now here you are swooning at the slightest touch like a schoolgirl. “Don’t tempt me.” Is the teasing reply you decide on, half-hoping he’ll leave it at that and half-wondering if he might not.

Steve chuckles and for a moment, he wishes he had a fraction of the charm his old partner had. Javi would have had no problem flirting, but it’s been a long time since he’s done this, he feels a bit wooden. He’s not exactly looking for a relationship, but flirting with a pretty woman always makes a man feel good. “Don’t you know the devil’s in the bayou?” He asks with another wink.

“I’ve heard.” Why does he have to be so fuckin cute? It’s not what you asked for, or what you were looking for, and it’s definitely not what you said you wanted, but here you are practically melting into his side as he stands a touch closer to you waiting for two bowls to be filled with food than he had been standing just a second before. “Guess I must secretly like it, or I wouldn’t have stayed.”

“There’s a magic here.” Steve admits as he looks around at the overgrown oaks that hang heavy with moss. “My mama always said that Chinquapin soothed the soul.”

“Your mama might be right.” You both thank the girl handing out plates and bowls, taking your food away from the chaos just as soon as you get it. There’s a different white-cloth covered table under a different tree open, and this time there are even chairs to sit in. “Connecticut doesn’t really have magic. I think that’s why I left.” Though why you’re talking about it is beyond you. He’s lived a fuller life in the last two years than you have in all of your own, there’s no way you could be interesting enough to keep his attention.

“Maybe it’s just different.” He counters, titling his head as he watches you get set up to eat. He wants to see your reaction to that first bite.

“Maybe.” Very, very different. So different that it stopped affecting you right around the time you hit double digits. When the shiny lens of wonder started to rub off of how you saw the world. Realizing that he’s watching you makes you more than a tiny bit self-conscious, but you know why. The food. So you give him as genuine a smile as you can and fill up a fork full of heavily spiced stewed alligator and shrimp smothered in equally spicy gravy. Cajun food in a nutshell, and actually you’ve found that you love it. “Cheers,” You grin, holding up your fork before taking that big bite all at once – spice and vinegar and something deeply smoky mixed with garlic and onion and…tomato, maybe? Whatever it is, your eyes have practically rolled back in your head as you hum your approval. The alligator tastes more like pork that you would have expected and it’s surprisingly tasty. “Holy shit,” you groan when you’re done with that first bite. “That’s fucking amazing, you weren’t kidding.”

Steve feels his stomach twist at your groan, it’s innocently sexy and that is something he hasn’t thought in a long time. The truth was that Connie left him long before those divorce papers. It was his fault, he changed in Colombia, and now he was trying to find the man he was. He chuckles and takes his own bite. “Isn’t it?” He shakes his head. “When I was eating the best fucking arepas you could ever imagine, I was dreaming of this.”

"Growing up the closest we got to gourmet was a really good hot dog," you joke, leaning to the side a little in your seat instinctively to be closer to him. The chair shifts under you as a matter of course, closing some of the polite distance without you really realizing it. It's just – it's comfortable and giving you a feeling of being warm all the way through that the bayou weather never could. "I mean, Connecticut is a place where they give you pizza with clams on it or a steamed hamburger and call it comfort food. Give me barbecue and real soul food over that any day of the week."

“Steamed hamburgers?” Steve’s eyes widen in horror. “That’s a fuckin’ crime. Has to be.” He’s offended by the mere thought of something like that existing, much less being something people eat.

"It should be, but they exist. And people are even proud of 'em." And right now, eating something as flavorful as you are in the middle of a gorgeous afternoon, that just seems silly. Mystic may have been pretty, but the only thing your little hometown had that Louisiana doesn't is autumn leaves – while Louisiana has so very much more. It's like a whole new world for you to explore, which was part of the reason that you came here in the first place. "This is so much better," you hum, motioning to your almost empty bowl.

“Ate more than you thought you would, didntcha?” He teases, his own spoon eagerly scrapping the bowl for the last mouthful. “Now we gotta talk about the beignets.”

"You're gonna have to roll me back to Mrs. Robeline's Boarding House if you keep feeding me." The soft groan you aim at him is half-hearted though, because you already know you love beignets. They were the very first thing you sought out to eat when you got to New Orleans and they're a happy memory because of it.

“You’re livin’ there?” He lifts a brow in surprise. “She still make everyone be in by eight o’clock and no male visitors beyond the parlor?”

"It was what I could find on short notice." You shrug a little, sitting back in your chair now that your bowl is all but licked clean. "It's not so bad. At least the place is clean, and I have my own bathroom. That's more than some of the other places could offer."

“I’ll keep an eye out for places that you can have to yourself.” Steve promises and looks around the yard again. The dance floor that’s been set up and there are couples starting to drift onto it. He doesn’t want to watch cutting the cake or try to catch that damn garter. “You wanna get out of here?” He asks suddenly. “Get away from all this?”

If you knew what reason he had for being so nice to you - what possible motivation he could have or what he wants from you - you might be wary of the question. As it stands, it’s seems like you’re just the two loneliest people at the wedding and neither of you wants to be here. The idea of escape rolls through you like freedom and relief, and you set your now empty beer bottle back on the table and nod. “I—yeah. Everybody’s really nice, but weddings aren’t my thing.”

“Good.” Steve immediately sets his bottle down and stands. “My truck shouldn’t be blocked in. We can sneak over there and get out of here. Did you drive?”

“I don’t have a car,” you admit quietly, knowing that walking the length of the town every day to get from the boarding house to Miss Truvy’s salon was going to get old very fast. You didn’t exactly have a choice, though.

He doesn’t comment on it, knowing that you wouldn’t appreciate it. He can tell you are here ‘starting over’. The only difference between the two of you is that his family is here to help and you are apparently alone. Instead of making you feel bad, he shoots you a grin. “How about I show you all the best spots in Chinquapin?”

“Do you think Miss Truvy will be upset if I sneak off with saying goodbye?” The last thing you want to do is upset your boss - especially when she drove the two of you here and you’re wearing her borrowed dress. But good god you are dying to be anywhere but here. Especially with him.

“Nah.” He shakes his head with certainty. “Miss Truvy won’t mind at all. But I’ll leave a note on her car if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Today was my first day,” you explain, shrugging apologetically. “She’s so nice, and I don’t want to upset her at all.”

“Note it is.” Steve agrees easily. He would agree to near about anything right now to get away from that wedding party. All he can think about is his own now botched marriage and he’s tired of it all.

It’s like a stealth escape out of a caper movie, and you’re not entirely sure if he’s exaggerating any of it to amuse you or if he’s just gone into impressive government agent mode. Either way he’s sweeping up across two yards within seconds of setting the note under Miss Truvy’s husband’s truck windshield wiper, leading to the two of you snickering wildly when you can hear his mother start to look for him right before you reach his truck.

"Shit." Steve's eyes widen and he hurriedly opens your door to let you hop up into the passenger seat. "We need to leave now or I'll be roped into talking about God knows what with Great Aunt Sally."

"Go, go, go!" The whispered hiss comes with giggles, and you're throwing on your seatbelt as he hustles around the hood of the truck to hop behind the wheel as quickly as possible.

The engine roars to life with a quick turn of the key and Steve quickly throws it into reverse, acting like he's about to start chasing sicarios as he screeches out of the driveway. Your laughter is worth the bit of silly and his own heart is lighter for it.

"So where to?" You ask, as he peels off down the road in the opposite direction of the wedding. The area doesn't exactly have a lot of tourist attractions, but he grew up here. He'll know the hidden gems for what they're really worth.

"How 'bout I show you exactly where to go to get good food, good liquor and the best damn swimming hole in all of Evangaline Parish?" Steve asks, lifting a brow in your direction. He hadn't really thought this through beyond leaving the wedding, but you are new to the area, so he figures giving you the tour is the proper thing to do.

"Sounds good to me." The streets pass by easily, and with your windows rolled down the mid-afternoon hubbub of downtown is a dim soundtrack for the occasional joke or tease in the cab of his truck. You get along easily - effortlessly - and something about it makes you both annoyed with yourself for the obvious way your guard is starting to come down and infinitely more relaxed than you have felt in years because of it.

"So, besides your normal desserts, Ida's makes the best damn milkshake you've ever tasted in your life. And her pecan pie is to die for." He nods as he sees the shop in the distance. "Wanna get some for the tour?"

"If we were just wandering, I'd say we should pick up a flask of bourbon and have grown up milkshakes." Alcoholic milkshakes were a treat that an old landlady has introduced you to years and years ago, and you absolutely loved the combination of creamy sweetness with the cut of smoky liquor running through it.

"That sounds like a plan." He quickly agrees and slows the truck down so he pull into an empty parking spot in front of the small shop. "The bourbon will be better coming from 'ol Jackson's near the river."

“Ol Jackson’s it is.” You agree easily. Downtown is exactly the kind of quaint you have come to expect from the Deep South, with old store fronts and almost-as-old men sitting out front of some of them smoking and cavorting. Ida’s is a neat little building painted white and decorated with a pretty blue-and-yellow painted sign above the entrance. Everything about it is tidy, even the trade of laughing old me with a pair of ladies still in their Sunday best sipping sweet tea and happily chattering over slices of Cajun cake.

Steve waits until you join him on the sidewalk for you before he guides you into the store. "Now are you a chocolate kind of girl or vanilla?" He asks, as if its the most important question in the world.

"Depends on what it is." The pastry cases are full of every goodie you can possibly think of, and the big machines behind the counters that spin milkshakes are happily buzzing. With only a small ice cream case in one corner, you figure this is definitely a quality over quantity situation and that sounds like heaven. "Usually vanilla. Nothing is quite as good as vanilla and cinnamon together, though."

"So you should choose number four." He tells you seriously, pointing to the menu hanging above the milkshake station. "It's vanilla with a slice of cinnamon crumb cake mixed in. Everything is homemade, by the way."

"This place is heaven," you grin, breathing in the smell of fresh cakes and pastries. If the fact that you have smiled more this afternoon than you have in the last nine months is a factor, your cheeks will be sore for hours, but you can't bring yourself to care. It's a miracle to feel this free again.

"That what you want?" He asks, waiting for your nod before he walks up to the counter. "See me? I'm gonna go with the chocolate with the devil’s food cake mixed in." He tells with a grin. "It's sinful."

"So much for pecan pie." Amused that you both abandoned the classic in favor of comfort choices, you nudge him a little with your arm. "But I have a feeling I'm gonna be coming here any time I have a few dollars to spare."

"It's addictive." He agrees as Ida comes out of the back, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Steven Murphy!" She grins, giving him a motherly scold. "I'd heard you were coming back. When did you get in?"

"Today." That makes her chuckle, no doubt amused with the fact that he had been in town for less than twenty-four hours and he was already darkening her doorway.

"Well, what can I get for you hun?" She asks, turning to smile at you with a curious gleam to her eyes. You aren't the former Mrs. Steve Murphy, she had recognized her from the few visits they had made to Chinquapin as a couple years ago, but you were obviously with Steve for this visit and she doesn't recall seeing you around town.

Steve orders for both of you and makes a face when you try to offer him a few dollars from your purse, and you roll your eyes good naturedly. You didn't figure he would let you pay, but offering is the least you could do. If you closed your eyes and dreamed, you could pretend this was a date. Casual and comfortable, two people who have found each other and grown fond of each other and kept each other company through the ups and downs of life. Which would be a hell of a lot more romantic than your last relationship. Your marriage.

The sounds of the milkshake being made are comforting, a sound of his childhood. He looks around and tries to see what it would look like through a newcomer’s eyes. "The sandwiches are good here too." He promises you. "Especially the Thanksgiving special."

"You are gonna have to roll me back home." You laugh, looking up at him beside you. "I guess we'll have to come back another time." The we is slightly presumptuous, but you want him to be enjoying this as much as you are.

Steve grins and wonders if it was a slip of the tongue or a soft hint that you would like that. The idea that it was a hint makes him shift to stand a little straighter. "We can do that." He turns when Ida sets the milkshakes on the counter and reaches out for them. "Thank you ma'am." He nods towards the woman who has seen him in her shop since he was in diapers.

"Anything for my new favourite deputy." She grins, nodding at the much taller, much younger man. Gossip moves fast in their little town and everybody who knew Steve Murphy was coming home also knew what he would be up to when he got here. There were whispers about his wife, and it seemed like they were true after all. Shame.

Steve can feel the question in your eyes as the two of you exit the shop. He sighs and gives a small shrug of his shoulders as he hands you the vanilla milkshake. "I was working for the feds for awhile, but that's done so I came home." He explains. "Being a sheriff's deputy will keep me from going insane with boredom."

"I—" You hesitate again, but decide to just shrug it off. You would rather not start this friendship - or whatever it is - out on a lie. "I know who you are," you tell him finally, as you both climb back into his truck. "I've seen you; I mean. On TV and in the papers. I just...didn't know you were from here until I met your sister this morning."

"Oh." He chuckles and shakes his head. "I guess there's no escaping it when it was in the papers, huh?" He asks with a roll of his eyes. "At least it was just my career on display."

"What you did made a lot of people's lives safer again. Better. It's nothing to shrug off, Steve." He turns over the engine and pulls out into the empty street again, going through the automatic motions like he could drive the entire town in his sleep. He probably could. "People all over the world are better off now than they were when that monster was alive. And that is thanks to you."

He could tell you that the number of kilos of cocaine entering the U.S. hasn't slowed down. In fact, more cocaine is coming in than before. He doesn't though. The tone of your voice makes him think that it's something personal for you. "Who was it?" He asks softly, expecting that you lost someone to drugs.

"Um..." You swallow, eyes drifting away from him to stare out the windshield. "My husband. Ex-husband. He's in prison, thank god. Just...please...Miss Truvy doesn't know. I didn't know if she would hire someone with a past."

His brow wings up, both surprised that you have a husband in prison and that you think that he would tell someone else's story. He shakes his head. "Not my place to say a word." He hums. "Besides, your ex-husband isn't you."

“He was a bastard, and I never should have married him.” That, at least, is the dead honest truth. But at least you’re free of him now, which is more than you thought you would ever live to say. Huffing slightly at yourself, you watch the road go by out the front window for a moment. “Anyway. Liquor store and swimming hole, right?”

"Right." He can tell you want to change the subject, so he does just that. Making a left at the only stoplight in town and humming at the sight of the magnolia tree blooming in front of the small city hall.

The drive is now transformed to an awkward silence, and you wish you had never said a fucking thing. It’s too late for that, obviously, but it has been so nice until now. The sight of the liquor store is almost a blessing at this point, as you severely hope that a little relaxation will make things less weird again.

Putting the truck in park, Steve turns to you. "Don't worry about it." He comments softly. "Hell, everyone in town is talking about how my wife divorced me on the heels of catching Escobar, so your issues won't even be a blip on the radar."

“We were just the two worst people to invite to a wedding, weren’t we?” It’s almost comical in a way. Or it would be if you both weren’t so obviously hurt by your former spouses.

Steve barks out a laugh, throwing his head back in relief that you aren't upset and nods quickly. "Yes, we were." He agrees easily and jerks his head towards the liquor store. "Come on, let's go get that bourbon you want."

Hopping out of the car right after him, you snort and shake your head. “You can’t tell me you don’t want a stiff drink after blush and bashful.” You roll your eyes, thinking of the huge deal Shelby had made over her wedding colours being two barely distinguishable shades of pink.

"I don't know what the fuck those colors are." He admits with another laugh and strides to the door to open it for you. "The colors for my wedding were...." He chuckles. "Fuck, I don't even know. Some kind of green and blue."

“Pink and pink, Steve. They were pink and pink.” It’s good to laugh with him, the feeling of comfort rolling back through you. “I barely even had a wedding. Just the courthouse with some flowers from the grocery store and a low country boil for dinner.” Unbelievably, though, that last bit does make you smile. “At least the food was good.”

"Only reason we did a wedding was because my mama would have killed us." Steve admits with a chuckle. "Wouldn't have minded the courthouse."

“I don’t think I would have minded if he had just asked.” Inside the liquor store is cram-jam full from floor to ceiling with every kind of bottle you can imagine and two men playing cards who pay you and Steve no mind. “I should have seen the warning sign from miles away.”

"Easy to ignore." Steve admits, knowing that he had ignored the warning signs that Connie was unhappy.

“It’s done with now.” And good riddance. Cocaine had turned a careless man into a monster, and you survived it. That’s all that matters now. “I just— I’m sorry you had to go through your own. You seem like a very sweet guy.”

"I'm not." He promises, his jaw clenching slightly in self-reflection. "I've got my own demons, but I'm trying." He had witnessed the darkness in him, it almost threatened to ruin his career until Javi went to bat for him. He just needed to make sure that darkness was caged.

“That’s all you can do, really.” The back wall is covered in whiskey and bourbon bottles, all different labels and few that you recognize. “We don’t have to…” you hesitate, glancing over at him. “If it’s not going to be good for you, we can skip it.” Whatever his demons are, they’re his and he doesn’t owe you an explanation. But you also don’t want to push him toward them accidentally.

"Nahhhhh." He shoots you a smirk and shrugs. "You aren't snorting coke in front of a DEA agent." He jokes.

“Former DEA agent.” Trying for a cheery smile, you shrug again. “I’ll never touch that shit. It turns people into shadows and monsters. Booze just makes me giggly and a little cuddly. And I can rein that in, ya know? Cocaine just…it’s unstoppable.”

"It's good to steer clear of that shit." He shakes his head. "Never understand why people want to snort shit up their noses that's made with gasoline."

“I guess it just depends on how badly you’re hurting, and how badly you want to stop hurting.” Plucking a small bottle of Statesman Reserve from the shelf, you hold it up for him to inspect. “It’s on me, but it will have to go home with you if we don’t finish it. No male guests past the parlor and no liquor of premises,” you recite the boarding house rules mockingly.

Steve snorts and shoots you a grin. "I'll save it for the next time, how about that? That way we can always have boozy milkshakes."

“You’re teasing me, but you’re going to love it.” That grin is going to make you more flustered than you’ve been in a long time, you can’t help it.

"Oh, I don't doubt it." He takes the bottle from you and turns it around to look at the label. "Statesman, huh? Don't think I've heard of this."

“Bourbon of choice for ‘Bama sorority girls.” You laugh, entirely at your own expense, and nod at the bottle - and maybe the memories, too. “It’s good, I promise.”

"Well hell, gotta try it." He draws and looks around. "Anything else you want a nip of?"

“I’m easy.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them and you chuckle. “I mean— you know what I mean.”

"Suuuuuuure." His wink is pure teasing and he loves the way you fluster slightly and look around the shop again. "That's exactly what you meant." He doesn't know why it seems so easy with you, but it does.

Rolling your eyes heavily is purely for dramatic effect, and you pluck the bottle out of his hands with a laugh. “C’mon, Steve, the milkshakes are waiting.”

"Yeah, yeah." He doesn't protest when you pay for the bourbon, even though he wants to. It's just ingrained in him that the man pays but he knows a lot of women don't think that way anymore.

******

The swimming hole, apparently, is barely two more minutes away. Steve steers the truck down to the bottom of a hill and around a vacant lot until the road runs out, and then the two of you get out and walk until a thin wall of trees gives way to a sizeable little pond hidden away from prying eyes. It's stunning - an absolutely gorgeous sight that literally takes your breath away when he steps aside to show you the view. "It's beautiful..."

"Good news is that there're rarely gators in here." He informs you. "It's something about the mineral content in the water or some such thing." He gives a small shrug. "Never really paid attention to the way, just happy I wasn't going to get rolled when I went swimmin'."

"Their loss." It's a gorgeous spot and you feel just a little spoiled that he chose to share it with you. "And more fun for us."

Steve sits down on a pile of rocks near the water and pulls the lid off his milkshake. "Ready to booze it up?" He asks playfully as he tilts it back to drink some to make room for the bourbon.

"Yes, please." Kicking off your heels lets you drop down onto the rocks beside him much more easily, and you're careful not to spill a single drop on your borrowed dress as you take the first sips of your milkshake. The creamy, spicy, floral, sticky sweet drink is as cooling as it is delicious, and you giggle happily at the first taste. "Oh god, Ida's never gonna get me out of that place. This is amazing."

"Swear if I didn't leave for college and the DEA I would have lived in that shop." He agrees as he takes another sip and then sets it down to open the bottle of bourbon to add to it.

"I don't blame you." He pours indiscriminately, filling each drink to the tip top of their cups while you dip your toes in the water. "If I had grown up here, I might never have left."

He snorts, chuckling softly. "Maybe, but I needed to leave." He tells you as he mixes the alcohol into the milkshake.

"Everyone has a different journey." The smoky richness of Statesmen Reserve has flavour tones that compliment your vanilla and cinnamon milkshake perfectly, and once again you're moaning softly over your food. "Sorry," you laugh, shooting him a grin. "I'm not one of those salad-and-water-only girls living on fad diets. I love food."

"I don't mind that a bit." He promises. "I don't think I've ever really paid attention, but my ex would easily out eat me on a good day." He laughs.

Your eyes widen for a second, obviously mishearing him and catching 'eat me out' instead of 'out eat me'. "Oh...uh..." You clear your throat, finally figuring out that you heard him wrong and feeling like a flustered moron with a one-track mind. "Cool. That's...that's good."

He doesn't know why your voice changes for a moment, making him turn to look at you curiously for a second before he shrugs it off. "Do you want to try mine?" He asks, offering you the chocolate extravaganza he had chosen.

"Sure." Yeah...because wrapping your lips around anything of his right now isn't setting your brain off into wildly inappropriate places. You trade him for your drink because sharing is caring, and hum happily at the deeply unctuous chocolatey flavour. "You can't go wrong with ice cream and booze."

"I'm learning." Steve licks his lips are a bit of your milkshake gets into his mustache. "It might change the way I get drunk." He jokes, watching your eyes close in pleasure while you tip back his cup.

"Drinking should be fun." You contend, handing him back his cup a second later. "Doing it on your own and moping when the bottle is empty is not fun."

"Done plenty of that." He lifts the milkshake up in toast. "Especially when...well, there was plenty of reasons to drink alone towards the end."

"To new beginnings, then." Holding your cup up to his, you offer him what you hope is a smile as warm and encouraging as you feel in this moment. "For both of us."

"To new beginnings." Steve grins and touches his paper cup to yours as if it’s the finest china and takes a sip of his milkshake.

As the sun starts to go down, lightning bugs and chirping crickets become the backdrop for your little getaway. It's a Saturday night in a usually quiet town where you have intentionally abandoned the place where all of your neighbors are congregating, and the temperature is slowly dropping along with the sun. It leaves the sky streaked with pinks and oranges and purples in a way that could easily be characterized as romantic if you let yourself think about it that way.

He might have poured too much bourbon in the cups, his entire body warming up pleasantly and he relaxes for the first time since he arrived in the States. His divorce is literally days old, the ink barely dry on the judge's signature and yet, right now, he feels like he's on a date. He looks out at the water and grins, standing up and stripping off his suit jacket. "Wanna go for a swim?" He asks as he kicks off his shoes.

Your eyes flick up to him from where they had been focused on your drink, sucking every last bit of delicious alcoholic creaminess up through the wide straw. He has already tossed his jacket and tie down and is toeing off his shoes, starting to unbutton the sleeves of his shirt at the same time. Pure mischief is painted across his handsome face and the familiar buzzing of Statesman in your system makes you bold. Sure it’s the same kind of boldness that got you into a bit of trouble back in college, but it was always fun trouble. “You wanna skinny dip?” The question makes you giggle a little, and even without an answer you already know you’re going to do it. When was the last time you felt so fucking free? Years, at least.

He had meant to keep his briefs on, allowing you to stay in your bra and panties for modesty, but since you are bringing it up? Hell yeah. He chuckles and unzips his pants. "If you want I'll close my eyes and turn around." He teases.

What he doesn't realize is that the underwear you have on will be so sheer if you jump in wearing it that you might as well be naked, and that skinny dipping was a favourite bit of mischief back when you used to get into mischief more often. "Just gotta be careful with Miss Truvy's dress," you mumble, not finding the clasp or zipper buried deep in the dusty pink coloured velvet.

"Do you need some help?" He wouldn't be a gentleman if he didn't offer, turning towards you while he's in just the white briefs he had worn under his suit. This was the wildest thing he had done in a while that didn't involve guns or criminals and he was actually enjoying it.

"I found the tie." There was a decorative cord at the back of your neck that had confused your tipsy brain because you didn't wear a necklace!, and you had to giggle at yourself. "Can't find the zipper."

Steve approaches gently, knowing that he doesn't want to seem too eager to get you out of your clothes. That wouldn't be very proper. Instead, he studies the dress from the back, an expect from helping Connie with hers. "It's on the side, sweetheart." He hums, reaching for the tiny little zipper for the dress.

"Oh." That earns a more animated giggle and you huff at yourself playfully, even as you raise your arm automatically for him to help. "That explains it."

"Never understood why they would put the zippers in the most inconvenient places." He murmurs, his breath washing over the back of your neck. "Then I realized it was to make taking off the dress more fun."

"You having fun, Steve?" You are. You definitely are. There's something giddy in the air tonight that you can't deny and it's only half to do with the man whose large hands are carefully peeling you out of a borrowed dress.

"Bourbon, a pretty girl and my favorite swimming hole?" He hums, his voice teasing and playful. "I'm having a lot of fun." Especially if you are. He's not a dummy. He knows you are attracted to him. He's not big headed about it, but plenty of women hit on him while he was with Connie, but he hadn't done anything about it. Now, that wedding band was just a suntan mark on his hand.

"I am, too." A shy smile creeps across your face as the dress comes down your shoulders, fairly confident that Steve is getting an eyeful of the lace bra you have on underneath. Now he sees why it wouldn't be worth it to keep anything on in the water. It isn't arrogance to think that he might reciprocate your attraction, but you're also not expecting him to act on it in any way. Not when he's so recently divorced and everything. "Go on and jump in," you encourage, nudging him slightly. "I'll be in, in a second."

He takes that as a hint that you want a touch of privacy while you strip down and he's going to oblige you. Doesn't mean he has to be shy. Instead, Steve pulls his briefs down right there, stepping around you and striding towards the swimming hole while he gains momentum and does exactly what you tell him to, he jumps in with a loud 'Wahooo' before he hits the water.

"Fuck..." Barely audible under your breath, you shake your head a little in amusement at the way your heartrate spiked at him passing - completely naked - in front of you for just a split second on his way to the water. At least he doesn't have the world's biggest dick or anything. You think to yourself, dropping your bra and panties beside your dress and anchoring them with a small rock so the wind doesn't take them away as you turn to slip into the water. That would just make the ache slowly building between your legs even worse.

Steve sputters slightly as he comes back to the surface, laughing and swiping his hair back as he flicks the water out of his eyes but he doesn't open them. "You in?" He calls out, turning towards the shore and kicking his legs to stay afloat.

"Yeah, I'm in." You had opted to climb down the rocks and jump from a much lower height, not making as much of a ruckus when you did. Now you're only a few feet away. The water is warm and laps at your skin gently, making the whole idea as relaxing as it is fun.

He grins and opens his eyes, looking around before he spots you. "Fun, isn't it?" He chuckles.

"Thanks for showing me." With the sun fully set the water is nearly opaque, but that doesn't keep you from feeling the water churn as he lazily kicks next to you or finding his bright blue eyes in the moonlight.

His grin makes only half his mouth move, nodding slightly as he treads a little closer to you. "My pleasure." He hums. "It’s not every day you get to go skinny dipping with a pretty girl."

"I'll have to try it sometime." Teasing him is too easy, and the warmth of having him come closer in the water is overwhelming in the very best way. "Find myself a pretty girl and bring her out here to see what it feels like.”

Steve chuckles, lifting at brow at the thought. "Can I come too?" He asks, teasing you right back.

"I mean, I guess." You huff dramatically, as though he has made a life-or-death request. He's closer to you without feeling like he's prowling and you swear your skin will light on fire if he ever reaches out and touches you like this. "It's gonna be harder to find a girl who likes both of us, but we could do it."

"Hmmm." He snickers softly and edges slightly closer. The entire conversation has made something decide that it wants to make an appearance. Steve Murphy is a grower. "I could always just watch." He concedes, circling around you slowly to where he is behind you, just in case he bumps into you. Better to have his erection press against your ass or thigh than your belly since he doesn't know how you are feeling right now.

The second he can't see your face, your eyes close and your face screws up in momentary concentration as you try to will your body to calm the fuck down. The man is barely divorced - he doesn't need the new girl in town jumping him hours after meeting. Although, he wouldn't be flirting or skinny dipping with you unless he wanted to be, the voice in the back of your head reasons. "But that's not as much—" Your eyes pop open a second later when you're certain you felt him touch your hip - but his hands are both on the surface of the water and he can't be that close to you and – Oh shit...that was definitely...apparently he does have the world's biggest dick after all. "Not as much fun," you finish, swallowing thickly.

"No, it wouldn't be." He can agree to that, in this hypothetical fantasy of yours. "So guess we better start looking huh?" He is enjoying the way that you seem to be breathing harder, obviously turned on as well.

Looking over your shoulder brings you eye level with him in the water, and you would be clenching your fists at your sides if you weren't using them to stay afloat right now. "I guess so." You murmur, finding him watching you with a pleased smile tucked up in the corner of his mouth.

"Ooooorrrr." Steve draws out, deciding to breach the chasm between the two of you and use one arm to grab your hip and steer you back into his chest. "I can keep the pretty girl I have right here to myself." He huffs into your ear. "I'm liking that option."

"Shit." You practically whimper at the strength of the act, not dominating in any way but somehow still making you feel as light as a feather in his arms. With your back to his chest and his hand spanning more of your hip and belly that you thought one hand ever possibly could, you tip your head back to rest on his shoulder. "I—I didn't, I mean—" Breathe, you idiot. "This wasn't a scheme or anything. Just so you know."

"Hmmmm, I know." He brushes his lips against your ear before he kisses your neck. "I was the one who suggested this." He reminds you with a grin. "Although there was a little scheming on my part. Or maybe hoping's a better word."

"Hoping, huh?" Squirming slightly against him just ends up - unintentionally, you swear - grinding your ass against his hard length. That feeling right there is the last crack in your resolve, and you twist around to wrap both arms around his shoulders as you face him. "Jesus, Steve. You're gonna kill me."

He huffs, even as he grins. "What does that mean?" He asks teasingly. He doesn't think you are talking about him literally killing you, but he wasn’t boastful.

"It means I thought you were hot seeing you on TV, but apparently the real you is even sexier," you admit, right before crushing your lips to his without any further hesitation.

It's been a long time since Steve has kissed anyone else, but in the ranking of kisses - it’s up there. Your lips are soft and yet your kiss is determined. You kiss him like you want him and that is something that turns him on. His tongue slides into your mouth quickly when you open for him, and he loves the way you moan into his mouth.

He tastes like chocolate and whiskey and something you can't put your finger on, and the way he drags you against him with one arm only encourages you to wrap one leg around his waist in an effort to get as close as possible while still staying afloat. There is no way in the world that you could have predicted how good this moment would feel, but now that it's here you would happily live in it forever.

Steve hums into your kiss, enjoying how easily the two of you seem to slide together so naturally. Deepening the kiss and closing his eyes, he feels his body respond to the feeling of your heated core pressed against his cock.

"Fuck." At a certain point you just have to come up for air, as much as you wish you didn't. The way your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest is better than anything you've felt in years and even better is the feeling of his hard length slipping against your folds.

"If we need to stop—" Steve stops to kiss along your jaw. "Let me know." He doesn't want to push; this is the first day you've met after all. You might not be ready or willing to go any farther than this, and he's okay with that.

"Do you want to stop?" The sincerity in his voice is genuine, you can tell that much, but it brings out the concern in your own as you find his eyes in the dark again. You didn't exactly talk about this possibility, or anything near it, and you don't want to push him. But you will be honest. "'Cause I don't, but we both have to want...whatever this is."

He laughs at the ridiculousness of you believing he wants to stop. “Does this feel like I want to stop?” He asks, grinding against you slowly.

It earns him a whimper from your lips and your eyes flutter shut of their own accord. "Just trying to be considerate," you mumble, clinging to him a little tighter. Your hips are already rolling slow circles along with his. "I-I'm safe. On the pill, I mean."

“I— it’s been a long time.” Steven admits breathlessly, thinking about the last time he was with Connie. “I—I’ve been tested. I’m clean.”

“Then…” Nipping at his neck, you grin at the glancing thought that it wouldn’t take much effort at all to leave a mark in his skin. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t have some fun.”

“Yeah?” He grins as he pulls back to search your eyes, making sure there’s no hesitation on your part.

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, nodding and reveling in the way he looks both delighted and maybe a little surprised. Like he can’t believe you want him. “Absolutely.”

He starts to guide you towards the rocks, wanting to have you close to them. It’s hard to fuck in open water and he wants to make sure that you enjoy yourself.

With the moon out and the lightning bugs and the soft noises of the valley at night, it almost feels like a fairy tale. A very adult one, obviously, as the two of you return to hungrily kissing the life out of each other as quickly as possible, but there’s no mistaking the element of romance even as your back presses against the edge of the watering hole. Rocks will keep you steady, giving him something to hold on to, and you lift your other leg up around his hip easily now that you have a little leverage, too.

His hands move into less appropriate places and he squeezes your ass. “You gonna let me fuck you?” He asks, pulling away from your mouth to start kissing down your chest.

“Was thinkin’ I might.” You groan softly, chuckling interrupted by a gasp when the tip of his tongue flicks one of your nipples experimentally. “As long as you actually know how to use that cock and don’t just parade it around.”

He chuckles and looks up at you, a hank of his wet hair falling over one eye. “Only one way for you to find out.” He coos before he wraps his lips around the nipple and tugs on it.

Thankfully you manage to remember that there are rocks behind you about half a second before you throw your head back in pleasure, the keening sound that escapes your lips being plenty loud enough to make up for it as you thread your fingers through his wet hair and encourage him to explore. If you could manage it you would have your eager fingers wrapped around his cock to find out exactly what kind of pressure and how fast or slow he likes it stroked, but like this it’s much more fun to grind your hips down and listen to him moan against your tits like he’s trying to suck your wildly beating heart out directly through your chest.

It’s been a long time since he’s made out with anyone in this swimming hole, not that you’re exactly ‘making out’. It’s gone beyond that as he suckles and bites on your breast while he pulls your hips down on his cock. He’s fucking aching already and it’s not like you’ve been teasing him for long, maybe it’s because he knows how reserved you had been just hours ago.

If the thought of doing something so intimate in such a public place ever would have bothered you, it isn’t even crossing your mind now. Messing around - fully naked - on town property is probably something he would be arresting teens for when he puts that deputy’s uniform on, but right now it’s glorious. Right now it’s only the whine of his name from your lips and the rolling insistence of your hips in the moonlight, and you can’t remember the last time anything felt so good.

Steve chuckles and switches over to your other breast. “Impatient.” He chides, grinning at the enthusiasm you are displaying for him. “So you don’t want to wait anymore?” He asks after he flicks his tongue over your nipple. “You want it now?”

The idea that there could be anything besides sex makes you pause, and there’s a flash of confusion on your face that you can’t hide. A three-year marriage to a man who saw you first and foremost as a means to provide pleasure for himself has clearly warped your expectations. “Want to make you feel good,” is what you go with when you get your mind back, hoping desperately that he didn’t notice anything.

He grunts, picking up on the momentary confusion and he doesn't want to make it a big deal - but he does want to make sure that you know that he operates different from whoever the selfish asshole you were married to was. "You know what I want?" He asks, moving you closer to the rocks. "I want to lick your pussy." He groans. "It's been a long time since I've been able to eat a woman out, will you let me?"

“You want to—?” The way desire has made his eyes nearly black is obvious even in the moonlight, and you can think of a single reason in the world he would lie about wanting it, so you nod and shift back against the rocks, hoping you can lift yourself up on them reasonably easily. “Whatever you want, handsome.”

He wonders when the last time a man had you like this. That he knelt down before you and buried his face in your glistening sex just for the pleasure of knowing that he made you cry out. You seem surprised that he would want to taste you. Connie had loved his penchant for oral, and his eagerness had made it to where her own want for reciprocation hadn't waned until things had gotten beyond salvaging between them. Shaking that thought off, his ex didn't belong in this moment, he hums and watching you lift your pussy above the waterline, and he slides between your legs as they spread wide.

You almost lose your balance as soon as you find it, but his broad shoulders and strong grip keep you steady, holding you up on the edge of the rock that you have perched yourself on just above the water line. There is nothing tentative in the way Steve moves and yet none of it is demanding, and it's an intoxicating combination that all comes down to want. He wants you, and he's going to have you, and you know without a doubt that you're going to enjoy every second of it.

He’s not as quick to just dive right in, there’s something in your surprise that makes him go slower. Not that he isn’t determined, instead he starts at your knees, kissing both and working higher, brushing your sensitive inner flesh with his mustache as he scatters kisses over your skin. Giving you time to anticipate and to cry off if you want.

He's slow and almost reverent, taking his time mapping every inch of your skin in the warmth and moonlight. The impulse to thread your fingers through that mass of wet hair is definitely there but you resist, balancing yourself carefully and letting him do whatever it is he's going to do since you're already sure that it will have you in a whimpering state of pure indulgence in no time. At least, everything else has so far, so why not this too?

He hovers over you when he reaches the juncture of your thighs. Looking up at you as if waiting for some kind of challenge, he flashes you a wink before he lowers his mouth to your cunt.

"Holy shit!" Your head drops back almost instantly, eyes shutting as you grip the rock beneath you even more desperately. There is no question about it, once he's started - Steve Murphy eats pussy with passion. There is no hesitation in his movements, only hunger, and you swear he must have a tongue as long as his cock for the incredible way he's devouring you as you try not to cry out in the warm night.

God, it’s been so long since he’s had this. His hands grip your thighs, urging you to use his shoulders as a prop and allow him more access. Groaning as he licks through your folds and discovers your flavor, the way you like to be eaten.

Even if you could lay back like this - give him all the access to every inch of you that you could - you wouldn't. Maybe it's selfish, but you want to be able to watch. When your eyes flutter open again he is completely absorbed in you and it might be the most intoxicating thing you have ever experienced in your entire life.

Steve's eyes flutter closed in pleasure as he pushes his tongue inside you. Moaning at how your walls seems to curl around his tongue and pulse with your excitement. His fingers dig into your flesh and he tugs you closer as he leans in, eager for more, inhaling your scent as he tries to drown himself in your sex.

The movement is inelegant, as dragging you closer to him makes you jolt and shriek slightly in halted pleasure and one of your hands digs into his hair to keep you steady. When he groans at the sudden, sharp sensation of having his hair pulled you echo the noise almost immediately, giving the strands another light tug of encouragement and angling your hips forward to fully surrender to anything and everything he has to give you.

He feels the moment your entire body sags and he chuckles into your folds. Flicking his tongue over your clit and swirling it around before he pulls it into his mouth to suck on as you start to grind down against him. Wondering if you even realize you are doing it.

It's heaven. Absolute bliss like you haven't experienced in years. Maybe longer, although that thought is so far off in your head that you can barely grasp it. The only thing in your mind right now is pleasure and how he is working you up until your thighs are shaking on either side of his head and you wonder if he has any clue what kind of wanton, desperate noises you're making because your legs must be clamped down so hard on his ears that the world around him is muffled.

There is something exquisite about a woman clenching her legs closed around his head. It makes his cock throb and his mouth even more eager as the pressure against his skull increases as every second ticks by. He is living right here, in this moment and it's most he has felt like himself in years.

The balance of too much, not enough, and just perfect tips when he nips at your soaking wet lips and gently drags his teeth along your throbbing clit making nearly scream his name as you fly apart from every possible seam. This orgasm is having you, not the other way around, and you are just hanging on for dear life and trying not to moan too loudly so you don't get caught.

It's like a damn bursting and he is caught in the onslaught. Groaning as he tries to keep up with the rush of your pleasure that floods his mouth, filling it and making him pull you even closer. Eager to drink you down and have you push at his head in an attempt to get him to stop.

Feeling completely boneless makes it slightly difficult to gain that all-essential control over your own movements again and you swear that it takes you a solid thirty seconds to remember to breathe after your body has stopped shaking above him. Only after that do you giggle softly, deep and throaty, and groan his name into the humid air. “Fuck, Steve…” You smooth his hair back from where your fingers were digging into his scalp. “Oh my god.”

He chuckles as he pulls away and looks up at your face, hazy and soft with pleasure. "Good?" He asks, wanting to hear the praise. He's not above asking for it, especially with a new partner.

“Amazing.” Hell, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he’s easily the best pussy eater you’ve ever been with. It’s not a hard competition against the two other men that came before. The others had refused, saying it was gross or they disliked the taste.

"Mmmmh." Steve smirks and yet he slides his fingers over your hips so he can seek out your wetness. Wanting to feel it another way. "Now you want to see how we fit together?" He asks, biting his lip as he slowly circles your entrance and almost presses into you, stopping just shy of breeching your walls.

“Hell yes.” You can’t help but giggle at your own enthusiasm, all self-consciousness washed away in the sea of cum he eagerly lapped from your cunt. “Help me back in the water, handsome.”

He chuckles and lets your brace your hands on his shoulders while you slide into the water. Not missing the chance to capture your nipple in his mouth again as you wrap your legs around his waist. Sex in water is amazing and he loves how easily he can manipulate and move you as he wants.

“Goddamn.” Even with just the tip of his cock nudging your entrance - like an echo of his fingers a moment ago - you can already feel how much he’s going to stretch you. “Feels like you’re going to split me in half.”

"Bet you say that to everyone." He teases, pulling away from your breast and reaching to capture your chin between his fingers and pressing a kiss to your lips. "You ready?"

“Wouldn’t say it unless it was true,” you promise him, squirming a little as you try to roll your hips down to take him a little deeper. The men before him had been nowhere near as well endowed, so you’re both excited and a little nervous. “Ready, baby.”

The moment the head of his cock slips inside you, he's glad he's got his feet planted on the rocks underneath the water. Groaning against your lips while he slowly starts to pull you down onto his length, impaling you inch by tortuously fabulous inch as you steal his breath.

It was an exaggeration when you said it. A minor one, you thought, but an exaggeration nonetheless. But with every second that ticks by as you sink down on his cock, you're starting to believe that you might feel him in your throat by the time he bottoms out. Wrapping both of your arms around his shoulders lets you hold him as close as possible as he starts to move, whimpering against his lips with every forward stroke. If he does split you in half, it will be the most amazing way to go in the whole world.

The water sloshes around both of you and Steve reaches out to hold onto the rock at your back. Keeping himself steady as he works himself in and out of you. “Fuck.” He pants, ducking his head down to nip at your throat and kiss it after.

"Fuck – oh fuck – you feel so fucking good." The words just tumble from your lips between kisses, desperate to feel as much of him all at once as you possibly can.

Steve has to agree, you feel amazing around him. He grunts and his teeth find your bottom lip and bites down on it while he gives a particularly rough thrust after he feels your walls relax around him.

The rocks biting into your back could leave permanent scars and you would wear them of badges of honour to memorialize tonight. As unbelievable as it is, he seems to fit you perfectly - stretching and filling you but never pushing past pure pleasure or approaching pain. Even the rougher strokes, that energetic and needy rhythm he finds that has you crying out and moaning with every thrust, seems to be the perfect balance for the two of you. You nip him back, lower lip and neck and earlobe all perfect places for your teeth to sink into and he seems to love it.

“Fuck.” He hisses, closing his eyes and his mouth going slack at the way you are biting and nipping him. He loves it. Arm tightening around you, he moans your name quietly, right into your ear, feeling his cock twitch deep inside your snug walls.

It's music. The best song in the world. And right in this moment you know that you'll do whatever you can to hear your name from his lips over and over again. The revelation that he likes to be a little rougher spurs you on entirely, though, and without even thinking about it you find yourself sucking a deep mark at the base of his neck that will be there at least a few days - hidden under his deputy's uniform like a dirty little secret. Which, you suppose, it is.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” Steve moans into the air, not giving a flying fuck who might be around and hear. He wouldn’t stop if the sheriff himself rolls up right now. His stomach clenches at the suction of your mouth on his skin and he turns the two of you around, bracing himself against the rock and starts moving you onto top of him, gritting his teeth as he manages to slip a little deeper.

"Oh my god." Clinging to him that much more securely as you move on him, it becomes an unrecognizable rhythm that matters only to your bodies. The whole world has dissolved around you, but you are climbing nearer to your peak with every passing moment.

“You gonna cum?” Steve asks, hissing slightly when your walls start to flutter around him. Nearly stunting his thrusts, but he just pulls you down harder and rucks his hips up more to work through it.

“S-so fucking close.” And when was the last time you actually came with a lover at all, let alone twice?

“Good.” Steve grunts, the water slapping in the small space between you and his head falls forward to rest on your collar bone while he barrels you both towards an orgasm. “Need to feel it baby.” Moving together, it doesn't take long for the two of you to find yourselves on the precipice. Your walls bear down on him with so much force that you swear you nearly black out near the end, sobbing his name into the night as the floodgates open once more. “Shit.” Steve hisses, body tensing and he’s powerless to hold out when you are coming apart in his arms. Dragging you closer and crashing his lips to yours while he gives into his own need. Pouring himself into you in molten waves that make him gasp and pray to the heavens that he’s not dreaming this.

"Fuck." Your head falls forward, forehead resting on his shoulder as you giggle softly in his arms and plant a chaste kiss on top of the mark you left in his skin that is already starting to bruise. "That was— fuck."

“Much better than the wedding reception.” He pants in agreement and chuckles. His own eyes close and he sighs softly, relaxing against the rock and just letting the moment linger between the two of you.

"Hell yes." There isn't a moment's doubt about it in your mind, and you let yourself rest against his chest comfortably without untangling your legs from his waist. You have no desire to leave his arms yet.

The sounds of the surrounding land starts to bleed through. The sounds of cicadas and frogs start to make a music that had soothed Steve throughout his childhood. It's like reality intrudes on both of you all at once, and your head pops up with dismay painted across your features. "Aw shit," you groan, not at all in the same way you were just groaning for him a few minutes ago. "It's...it's dark. There's no way I didn't miss curfew at the boarding house."

Steve snorts and chuckles at the fact that you did just miss curfew, for reasons that would make the old lady’s hair go even whiter than it already is. “Sounds like you’re disappointed to have stayed.” He teases, enjoying the fact that you are still on his cock.

"No." You shake your head and nuzzle into his neck a little bit more. "Just worried Mrs. Robeline will have my things out in the yard when I get back tomorrow. I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

“She won’t.” Steve assures you, reaching up and stroking your back above the water line. “I’ll give her call when we get back to the house. Tell her it was my fault for letting the time get away from me.”

"Do you have every lady in town wrapped around your little finger?" It wouldn't surprise you in the least if he did, considering you definitely see yourself there right about now.

“Nah.” He drawls, giving you an only slightly cocky smirk. “But considerin’ she knows I’m gonna be a sheriff’s deputy, I think she’ll let you slide.”

"It will be a lecture over breakfast instead." The thought makes you giggle, that post coital bliss coursing through your veins making it seem silly rather than the serious misstep it might otherwise be. "And I'll be hounded with questions about our intentions that she has no right to demand answers to." A deep, and deeply satisfied, sigh passes your lips as you pull back to look at him again. "Small towns are all the same."

“I’ll tell her that you’re sleepin’ in Tater’s room.” He chuckles and leans in to kiss you again as his softening cock slips out of you. “She’ll be quiet as a church mouse then.”

"Genius." You hum against his lips and groan slightly in protest when the two of you come untangled from each other. "But you're gonna have to button that uniform all the way up...I left you a little souvenir that I hope you'll like."

“I felt it.” He reaches up and rubs his neck with a grin. “It seems like a fair trade to me.”

"I'll climb out the window in the morning so your parents don't catch us," you tease. Separating in the cooling water makes you pout, but you'll have to climb out and dry off to get dressed eventually.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. “I think my parents have figured out I’m not a virgin anymore.” That ship sailed long ago, but he has never brought a woman home beyond Connie.

“I was thinking of preserving us from prying question,” you tell him honestly as the two of you lift yourselves out of the water. “But if you think they won’t mind?” You shrug. “Well, you know your folks better than me.”

"After tonight?" He tosses you a grin and hands you the panties you were wearing as he scoops up some clothes. "I'm sure everyone is going to be sleeping in come the morning." He predicts, knowing how sometimes the after parties last longer than the real receptions. Especially if they break out the 'shine.

Thanks for making the day more fun.” It’s a silly sentiment, but you fluster slightly trying to dry off before you can put on your borrowed dress again.

“I think I should be thanking you.” Steve chuckles and pulls his briefs on. “Not sure if this was quite the town welcome you were expecting.”

“Not at all.” The very idea of it makes you grin as you finally pull your dress over your head. “But I doubt it’s what you expected for a homecoming, too.”

“So much better.” He huffs, rolling his eyes as he imagines all the questions he dodged.

“We should get out of here.” Nodding toward where his truck is parked, you easily lean into his side when he lifts his arm to offer you a spot. “Somebody’s sure to have heard us.”

“Half the parish.” He teases, feeling lighter and happier than he has in a long time. It’s not just the sex, it’s getting out of his own head, and he appreciates it. Turning his head, he kisses your temple affectionately as if you had received thousands of kisses from him. “We’ll go crawl in a bed and I know I’ll sleep good tonight.”

“I will, too.” With your heels dangling from your fingers, you keep in line with his strides and climb into his truck when he opens the door for you. It’s comforting to know this was more than just a quick fuck for him - even if it doesn’t turn out to be more than one night, he is still kind enough to give you a place to sleep instead of just dropping you off at the boarding house and telling you good luck. Or worse, stranding you at the swimming hole.

******

The ride back from the swimming hole is quiet, but not in an awkward sense. The radio hums, turned down to a low volume, and provides a backdrop for the occasional creak of the truck over pot holes and ruts as Steve drives slowly with the windows down. The summer night cools down, air blowing across his damp skin and through his hair, making him relax even more.

His house is quiet when you arrive but the party is still raging next door. The only sign of life at the Murphy home is his father asleep in the La-Z-Boy in the living room, and you stifle a laugh at the sight. Your own father would be exactly the same way.

Noticing your grin, Steve leans in close. “Don’t knock it until you try it. Those chairs are comfortable.”

“I was just thinking that my dad would be in exactly the same position,” you whisper, letting him lead you through the house. His overlarge hand around yours is warm and comforting and you don’t want to let go for anything.

"I think once you have kids, it becomes a universal right of passage to fall asleep in a chair at any point, any time.” He jokes, remembering how Connie would come home and Olivia would be passed out on his shoulder, and he was right there with her.

That makes you pause, and you look back at him curiously. “D—do you? Have kids? I…never thought to ask.”

"I did – do, I guess." He sighs. "We adopted a little girl in Colombia. Escobar's sicarios had killed her mother." He explains, not willing to talk about Connie's struggle with fertility. "My ex demanded sole custody and I wasn't in a place to fight it."

“I’m so sorry.” Squeezing his hand gently, you end up pulling him into a hug after a moment that he returns easily. “I’m sorry you don’t get to see your daughter. That can’t be easy.”

Steve sighs and tucks his head into your neck for a moment, savoring the feeling of someone caring. Someone who was not obligated to. "It's for the best. I wasn't— it was rough in Colombia." He knows he made mistakes as well; it wasn't just Connie deciding she wanted a divorce. He had changed and some of those changes weren't pretty. "I will wait until she's older and see if Connie will change her mind."

“If you ever want to talk about it…” you let the sentence trail off, softly stroking his back as he holds onto you. “No pressure. But I’m a pretty good listener.”

"Thanks." He pulls back and gives you a small smile. "Let’s get upstairs before Dad wakes himself up snoring."

******

His old double bed looks like it will barely fit the two of you when you gently shut his bedroom door behind you, but you offer him a grin. “I guess we’ll have to cuddle.”

"It'll be a tight fit, but we don't have to worry about falling off." He jokes, one side of the bed shoved up against the wall. "Hopefully you don't roll?"

"I'm pretty much a rock." Taking off the dress once more is much easier, and you hang it carefully on the back of his desk chair to keep it from wrinkling too badly. "Once I'm out, I don't move again until morning."

He chuckles quietly and strips out of his own clothes, more careless with them than you are. Although he does have the luxury of having something else to wear tomorrow. "Do you mind taking the inside of the bed?" He doesn't want to make it a thing, but he would prefer to sleep next to the door.

"Don't want to be stuck between a rock and a hard place?" You can't resist the joke, and grin at him as you climb under the covers to shimmy across the mattress.

He snorts and shakes his head. "Habit." He admits, blushing slightly. "Closest to the door..." Closest to the danger is the unspoken part.

"Doesn't make a bit of difference to me." Settled in with your head on one of his pillows, you pat the space next to you softly. "Just as long as you're joining me."

He snorts and nods. "Of course." He huffs playfully. "It's my bed after all." He lifts the covers and slides in beside you, settling on his side and wondering if he can put his arms around you.

Noting his obvious hesitation, you nestle yourself right into his chest and put one arm around his waist to draw him close. After what happened an hour ago? You're not inclined to be shy about something as innocent as sleeping. "It's gonna be a long night if you don't want to cuddle."

With that invitation, Steve melts into you and presses himself up against you with his leg sliding between yours.

"Hmmm," you sigh in utter contentment and lay your head on his chest, letting him draw you in as closely as he pleases. "G'night, Steve."

"G'night gorgeous." He breathes out softly, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep peacefully. There's no mistaking it, as the two of you snuggle tightly into each others' arms: this really might be the best second chance you ever could have gotten.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom

Steve Tags: @pedropascalsx @ithinkwehitametaphor @justafleshwoundbaby @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook

[theflowerofthecommonwealth]

I finally got around to listening to Death shroud and when I heard the first part of Magnolias holotape I was just like ‘ok wait does she have a thing for Nick?’ And then I remembered your Steel Magnolia posts, so I’ve GOT to ask you your thoughts on the matter.

Oooooohhhh myyyyy gooooodnnneessss!!! I almost melted away at the thought of someone thinking of ✨Steel Magnolia✨ while listening to Death Shroud cause I sure was!

If ya have no idea what me or the anon are talking about, here’s some links. 1: 2: 3: 4: 5: 6:

I also almost melted at the tapes- idk if they had meant to make it sound so flirty or if Maggie is just being Maggie but daaaaaaaaang, she did sound like she had a thing for our favorite RoboDad and he reciprocated those feelings at least somewhat.

At the very least they are really good friends who have been through some stuff together- Mags was willing to admit to him her “crazy” fears about things changing yet everyone saying it was always like that. When she admitted to Nick on the holotape that she was scared and sounded so frightened I swear my heart almost burst out of my chest.

I just wanted to hold her! 🥺💗🥺💗🥺💗

And now that the whole thing has wrapped up and Nick is back 2 years in the past they both remember what was and what is coming so I am willing to bet all my piggy bank money that they will meet up and have long discussions about what the hell just happened. Heck- I wouldn’t be surprise if poor Nick finally breaks down a little taking about it with her because of what he’s been through. Nobody else would really understand or be close enough with Nick for him to open up.

If anything, all Death Shroud did was cement the idea of Nick and Magnolia eventually becoming a power couple further in my own head!!! Again, not sure if that was intentional by the creators but that’s how I feel.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- I don’t normally ship two people together romantically, I am more for platonic and familial relationships hence Jas and Nick as a father-daughter duo and everyone else being a sibling or aunt/uncle. It this ship just feels a bit special!

And thank you @chadfallout76podcast for making and getting everyone together for Death Shroud- it is truly amazing and I don’t think there’s enough thank yous in the world to give you!! 💖💖💖

[swordsandholly]

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Holly | He/They | 25

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I love writing fat reader characters. No use of y/n.

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Writing

Ao3

Masterlist

Ghoap x Reader

Treat Me Gently (Because No One Else Will)

Across the Way

Poly 141 x Reader

Cherry Bomb Anthology

Fancy

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Double Date - Double Down | Ao3

Steel Magnolia

John “Soap” MacTavish

Little Death | Ao3

Keep It Casual

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Live in Five | Ao3

Drabbles

Mechanic!AU

Ghost x Plus Size Fashion Blogger | Bonus

Mother’s Day Blues

Visiting your southern family

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[floertoer]

au where juvia is in love with lucy instead of gray (working title)

warning for juvia being an unreliable narrator

Juvia listens as Master Ivan drones on and on. The Master always got so worked up when it came to Fairy Tail and while most of her guildmates could avoid listening to his annoying rants it seemed like no one could escape them these days. A lot of his rants focused on the Master of Fairy Tail but now some of them focused on a girl. Lucy Heartfilia, runaway daughter of railway tycoon Jude Heartfilia. Juvia hardly has any interest in the world of business but the heiress of one of the richest men in the world running away to join a mage's guild is the type of gossip that hooks anyone. It sounds like a plot to a romance novel. The rich heiress running away to be with her mage lover. Juvia wonders if that's what Lucy did. Why else would a girl give up a life of luxury if not for love?

"Have I made myself clear?!" Ivan shouts. Juvia nods, then looks around to the rest of the Element Four (and Black Steel Gajeel, of course). Gajeel looks bored out of his mind, which is typical for when he's not fighting or scheming. Sol and Totomaru look as out of it as Juvia feels. They all must've heard this lecture a million times by now. Even Aria, the most diligent member of their group, looks tired of the same message. "Alright, and remember you must not mess this up! If you do..." Master Ivan's threat lingers in the air before he takes his leave. He always says goodbye with an "or else".

A few moments after the Master exits. Sol approaches her. "Hello Miss Juvia. Shall we take our leave?"

Juvia nods. She wasn't really listening to what the Master said but she assumes she's been assigned a mission with Sol. Sol peers at her for a moment before smirking. "Do you even know what we are supposed to be doing, Miss Juvia?"

"Ever perceptive Sol. No, I don't," she admits.

Sol chuckles. "Don't worry, Miss Juvia. Sol will regale to you the Master's mission for us, without all the cursing of Fairy Tail."

"I appreciate it," she replies. This is friendly, she thinks. She's not close to any of her guildmates, besides Gajeel, maybe, but being on a team makes you closer to someone. So this is friendly, Juvia decides.

As the two Phantom Lord members comb the streets of Magnolia for the Heartfilia heiress, Juvia wonders about the girl. Juvia has never met a rich girl before but in all the romance books the rich girl is usually the love rival of the main character. Someone spoiled, mean, and overall terrible for the love interest. Juvia wonders if the girl is like that.

"Miss Juvia, just ahead is Miss Heartfilia. I'm not sure how close any of her guildmates are so make sure to take her as quickly as possible," Sol says. Juvia nods and watches Sol sink into the floor.

Juvia is gloom incarnate. "Drip, drip, drop," she chants, as she nears the girl. Wherever she goes the rain follows. When she lays her eyes on the girl her first thought is, "She belongs in the sun." Her second thought is, "She's pretty," and her third is, "Oh no, she's pretty."

Juvia pauses. She's unsure how to proceed. The girl looks confused, she's probably wondering where the rain came from. Her hand is on the pouch sitting on her waist. "Hello?" she asks, "Have we met?"

When she speaks Juvia feels a rush of emotion. Just looking at this girl sickens her to the core. This girl probably has boy after boy falling at her feet. She probably hates the rain, and never has to worry about spending the night alone. Sol pops out of the ground. "Miss Juvia, you are aware this is Miss Heartfilia, correct?" he asks.

The girl's eyes widened. "You're from Phantom Lord!" she shouts, judging from the way her hand hasn't left the pouch on her waist she already knew that. She reaches into the pouch and Juvia clenches her teeth. She lifts her hand up and casts a spell. "Water lock!"

The girl is encased in a sphere of water and drops a ring of keys onto the floor. Sol chuckles, "You know you're a high price target. I suppose it makes sense that any father would pay a fortune to see their child again." Juvia knows Sol is just saying it to rile her up and it works. The girl glares at him and then her. Juvia wonders if she also made that face at her father. She wants to ask why she ran away, if it really was for a boy. She wants to know how many boys she has in her life, and she wants to know how the sun feels on her skin, but she doesn't ask anything. When the girl passes out from oxygen deprivation she releases the spell and watches as Sol catches her body. "That was easy," he says. Juvia looks away from him and the girl.

The next time Juvia thinks about that girl she's facing down her guildmate. Gray is handsome, he's exactly her type, in fact. Cold, beautiful, and someone who doesn't mind getting wet. She doesn't want to fight him, even if she did there's no point. None of these Fairy Tail wizards will beat the Master or Gajeel. She tries to exit the fight, but then he's taking off his shirt, and she can barely look at him. She thinks it must be fate. What are the odds she meets an ice wizard this forward?

But then he brings up that girl, Lucy. He says he'll protect her with his life. Is this the guy she ran away for? Is this her lover? Just the thought of the two together makes Juvia's blood pressure rise. This is every romance novel she's ever read. That girl is exactly who she thought she was and Juvia has decided she hates her.

Juvia fights Gray and she loses but just as she thinks her life is over and she's going to fall and splatter on the pavement like a raindrop, he saves her. Her charming prince saves her. Nobody's ever reached out to Juvia before and this single act fills her heart with so much joy that the clouds part, and for the first time in her life she looks at the clear sky. The sun is warm on her skin and she looks at the one who saved her. He says something about the sky but Juvia can't hear him over the ringing in her ears. Juvia smiles, this must be what love is. She's never been more overwhelmed, her last thought before passing out is, "I wonder how that girl looks in the sun."

Juvia wakes up alone with the sun in her face. For the first time, Juvia's not upset that she's alone, not when she has the sun. Juvia has a new direction in life and it's facing Gray... and that girl. Or at least that's how it feels to Juvia. Gray is a clearly popular person, always surrounded by his guildmates but it seems like he seeks that girl out in particular. It's like he can't stay away from her. It drives her mad how often the two will just sit and talk like they're on a... date! or something. So now Juvia knows a whole bunch of things she doesn't care about, like that girl's favorite milkshake, her aspirations as a writer, and how the sun shines on her golden hair.

It's even worse when another one of the guys that girl has wrapped around her finger brings her tickets to a water park. That girl is going to be taking Gray to a water park, where she'll be wearing a swimsuit. Her in a swimsuit, just walking around, maybe she'll even wear a bikini. Gray won't be able to resist her, not that it's Gray's fault. She is clearly purposefully tempting him. Juvia can just cry thinking about it, who would be able to resist her?

So Juvia follows them to the water park and it's just as awful as she expected. It's like that girl didn't even want to give Gray a chance. It's not fair that some people are just gorgeous. Everything gets a little better when the hotel is attacked and Juvia has a chance to save Gray. As she has Gray safe in her body all she can think about is how jealous that girl is going to be. Juvia watches her fret over Gray for a second before revealing her scheme. "Are you jealous?" Juvia asks.

"Not really, no," she responds. Juvia frowns as Gray pulls himself from under her. That... is not at all what she expected, and she's really disappointed. Maybe the reason she's not jealous is because she knows how Gray feels for her. She's so arrogant she doesn't even view Juvia as a threat! Yeah, that's definitely what it is, Juvia tells herself.

It's probably petty what she does next but Juvia can't help it. It's nice to mess with that girl because every moment she's annoyed with Juvia is one less moment she's interacting with Gray. Although it definitely doesn't help that she changes clothes right in front of Gray. Juvia thought she was raised as an heiress but she has no decorum it seems.

She needs to remember she didn't just come here to stalk Gray, she came to prove that she can be useful to Fairy Tail as well. It's like whenever she's around that girl she's all Juvia can think about it. Just another annoying thing about her, Juvia supposes.

It's just her luck that she ends up alone with her. To make matters even worse an enemy appears. That girl, Lucy, shouts over the music that Juvia should handle it, which she agrees to. "Water lock," she casts.

"Wow, so cool! That's to be expected of a member of the Element Four!" Lucy compliments. Juvia doesn't respond but she preens inside. It's nice to be acknowledged, even by your rivals. The man, Vidaldus, absorbs her water lock.

Juvia steps back in shock. "Wha- how did you break through Juvia's spell?" Vidaldus explains how his hair can absorb all water. How is it possible for Juvia to face the only opponent who can counter her?

He says something about succubi and then points at Juvia. This can't be happening. Juvia wishes she had been unconscious at least because the pain was unbearable. Juvia could only watch helplessly as her body said and did things she never would. Even though Juvia saw Lucy as a rival she never wanted to beat her like this. It was wrong, it wasn't befitting of a Fairy Tail mage. "Lucy, Lucy," she calls, even though she wasn't sure anyone could hear her. "Juvia is so sorry. Juvia never wants to hurt her friends, although it might be presumptuous to call you my friend. Juvia has really grown to love Fairy Tail! Even when it's raining outside the guild is always so warm and sunny inside. Juvia wanted to join Fairy Tail but now... Juvia thought she could get along with everyone but she always brings sadness." If Juvia was in control of her body she would cry.

Lucy crashes into the floor. "Juvia!" Lucy shouts, "Fairy Tail will always accept someone who sheds tears for their friend! And thanks to you I have an idea!"

When Juvia's body goes to attack Lucy once more she plunges a gate key into her body. "Open Gate of the Water Bearer, Aquarius!"

In a flash of golden light Aquarius appears and floods the room. Juvia gasps, as she gains control over her body once more. "Juvia!" She hears Lucy call.

"Over here!"

"Juvia!" she shouts, and reaches out her hand.

"Lucy!" Juvia shouts back, reaching for her hand as well. Lucy grabs her hand and Juvia feels alive. She feels like the sun is rushing through her veins. Lucy's magic mixes with hers in the most intimate way possible. The two girls shout as they pull off a Unison Raid.

When the two touch the ground again they both embrace each other. "We did it!" They cry. As Juvia hugs Lucy she can't help but notice, "You're warm. I think this is the first time a girl has never hated me." Even after all I did to you, she wants to say, but can't bring herself too. She doesn't want Lucy to wake up and realize who she's celebrating with.

"Don't go celebrating just yet!"

The two girls squeal and look back to see the water spirit Lucy summoned.

"Never summon me in a freaky place like that again! You hear me?!" the spirit shouts.

"Of course, Aquarius," Lucy squeaks.

The spirit, Aquarius, scoffs. "I'm going on a vacation with my boyfriend for two weeks. Don't call on me. You should get one too y'know. Although for you it's easier said than done," she says before disappearing.

"Wow. It's not like I'm looking for one anyway," Lucy says.

Juvia tries to not let the shock show on her face. With how many boys that are tripping over themselves to date Lucy, Juvia's surprised her spirit would make a comment like that. "Love's important," she manages to say.

Lucy sits down and lies back in the water. The room's no longer flooded but it's still high enough she can semi-float on the water. "Since we took down that creep this Jellal guy isn't gonna have it so easy."

Juvia's surprised Lucy said 'we'. Juvia had assumed Lucy is the type to take all the credit, not that she would be wrong to do so right now. Juvia didn't do anything except get possessed. "It's your victory."

Lucy looks over at her with a smile. "Nah, it was the both of us. I couldn't have done it without you." Juvia blushes at the, in her opinion, undeserved praise. "Also you called me Lucy back there. It made me really happy that we could be friends."

Juvia freezes. Friends...

...friends...

...friends...

The word is dancing circles around her brain. No one has ever referred to her as a friend before. No one has ever wanted to be. Her first friend. Lucy is her first friend. She's someone's friend. Juvia tears up and then starts to bawl. "My eyes... they're raining!"

Lucy laughs, and it sounds like wind chimes. A sound that get carried by the wind and makes everyone smile when they hear it. "That's a cute way to put it."

Cute... Juvia is cute.

"Come lay back. We should take it easy for now. We just won!"

Juvia lays in the water with Lucy. She looks over at Lucy, who has her eyes closed, and watches her face. Looking at her so closely make Juvia realize why she infuriated her before. Lucy is everything she isn't. Lucy is like spring. She's a sunny day, a meadow full of flowers, she's...

Oh.

Oh.

Juvia's eyes widened, she has spent a concerning amount of time watching Lucy but this thought has never occured to her before. Lucy being so popular and well liked bothered her. Lucy being liked by Gray even more so. She had thought it was because she liked Gray and Lucy was a rival for Gray's affections but all this time Lucy had never shown that type of interest in him. So why did Lucy make her so upset?

A blush crawls up Juvia's face, the answer seems so obvious now. Juvia isn't in love with Gray. She's in love with Lucy.

[oc-babe]

OC Pokemon AU Types + Teams <3

I'm a simple man,,,I want to insert my ocs that have no business being near my other interests,,,here's a v basic rundown of my ocs as Gym Leaders (and if you totally wanna ask me more about this please do I can and will expand the teams + other nerdy stuff)

♡ = Their fav pokemon !

Magnolia Sinclair

- She specializes in bug types !! She's a bug girl at heart <33

- Actually doesn't like fighting with Leavanny, she keeps it around for it's silk and ability to help with sewing. It's sent out more as a last ditch effort

- She def keeps some Combee around on her property, using their honey to keep Heracross happy

Carolyn Gray

- Carolyn adores poison types!

- She considered specializing in just water types, but she has a morbid curiosity when it comes to how sneaky and dangerous poison types tend to be. She thinks they make fantastic subjects for her photography

- Has a strong bond with Croagunk, keeps it around because of rumored healing properties from its poison

Hunter King

- I think it's easy to see why this competitive jock would lean towards Fighting types!

- A lot of his team is off of looks, he and his pokemon like to show off and intimidate

- Hunter took a surprising liking to Scrafty, relieved to find a fighting pokemon that doesn't mind playing a little dirty or getting into trouble

Emil Müller

- Emil specializes in steel types!

- Rather protective of his pokemon, it's common for him to close his gym and turn away challenges so they don't get overworked

- It's hard to describe what makes Emil drawn to Meowth, but he likes to think that it gets him than most people do. He always shares the earnings of his battle with Meowth.

Angel

- Angel has always felt drawn to psychic types!

- While it's hard to actually catch Angel at his gym, you'll have the best of luck late at night! He prefers to battle outside, right in the moonlight

- Angel constantly has his Swoobat out of it's ball and flying freely around him, he thinks of it as a little good luck charm!

[krscblw]

ghoul perfume associations!

i am very into ghost. and i am also very into indie perfumes! so i decided to combine the two and make a list of my scent associations for each of the ghouls, as well as a few indie fragrances that fit them (in my opinion! if y'all have other thoughts i would LOVE to hear them /gen)

i also included all of the perfumes i found that had the same names as the ghouls, even if i didn't think the scent profile worked, and bonus atmospherics that i think are more naturally ghoul-ish and worked well for the various elements!

warning: this is an obscenely long post. i have too many thoughts.

another warning: because this post is so long, some of the text might get cut off on mobile. it should be okay on desktop if that happens (i don't know how to fix it, sorry)

Aeon

Notes: chocolate, linen, lavender. Aeon smells very gentle and pleasant, but not necessarily sweet. He smells like things that he himself finds comfort in.

Perfumes:

Chocolatine -- Fyrinnae

“Also known as Pain au Chocolat, these flaky croissant-like pastries are filled with pieces of dark or semi-sweet chocolate. This is not a very sweet fragrance.”

TELEGRAMA – Imaginary Authors�� 

talc, lavender absolute, black pepper, teak, amyris, vanilla powder, fresh linens

Bonus:

Phantom -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab 

Aether

Notes: bourbon, amber, vanilla. Aether smells sophisticated, but with a warm, golden edge. He smells like comfort, like unconditional love- but also a little bit like sex.

Perfumes:

Quintessence of Debauchery -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A distillation of raw, bawdy sexiness without regard for gender - Bourbon vanilla, tonka, dark florals, peach brandy, coriander, mock orange, spiced pumpkin, fresh ginger root, rock rose, long leaf tobacco, black opium infused amber, patchouli, oakmoss, and cruelty-free (vegan) castoreum.”

Morosexual -- Treading Water Perfume  

“Morosexual - The sexual attraction to stupid people. Treat yourself and read your partner at the same time with a scent that is as classy as it is stupid. The earthy combo of vanilla, fresh tobacco and star anise combine with spicy nutmeg to create a warm soft blanket to dull the mind.”

tobacco, vanilla, patchouli, jasmine, star anise, nutmeg

Alpha

Notes: leather, smoke, gunpowder. Alpha smells.. off-putting, to most people. He has an intense personality, and it's reflected in his scent.

Perfumes:

Industrial Sabotage -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A cataclysmic wreckage of burnt wires; twisted melted steel; shattered machinery, and gunpowder.”

Night Shift -- PULP Fragrance  

“Black frankincense, engine grease from a long late shift, smoke, ash, blackened wood, and a hint of leather.”

Cirrus

Notes: dark fruits, musk. Cirrus smells sophisticated in a dark, sensual way. She smells.. hypnotic, almost. She smells like you want her, but she doesn't even know you exist.

Perfumes:

Venus Black -- Possets 

“A grand and very very sensual scent. Black in the most sophisticated way. Considered one of the colors, its working name was Mars' Black but it is so wonderfully feminine that there is no way that it could be named after the god of war, it should be named after the goddess of love. The Blackest musk flirts with a float of black pepper, a shot of dark sweet pear, and the smallest amount of sage and non-stinky narcissus for tingle. One not to be missed. Dry, musky, spicy.”

(i have this one. it's VERY attractive (i had to stop wearing it because i was confusing myself lmao) and now that i associate it with cirrus. i might have a problem)

Salomé -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“An overture of not so innocent magnolia underscored with a sly caress of Queen of the Night, a fulsomeness of nubile black grapes and plums, skin musk bathed in spilled cognac, and ruthless twist of bitter orange, blended with an ancient Arabian love philtre of crushed vanilla and tonka bean, sandalwood, vetiver, cedar, and red oud.”

Bonus: 

Cirrus -- Osmofolia 

Cumulus

Notes: lilac, magnolia, jasmine, sugar. Cumulus smells sweet and cloying. You smell her once and the scent haunts you all day like the most enchanting ghost.

Perfumes:

Alabama -- Possets

“Floral perfume lovers rejoice! This one is the essence of a hot sticky Southern night at the height of passion with the one you love. What a treat! Alabama weaves pink fizzy mimosa, thick white magnolia, canebrake jasmine, Mexican tuberose, and Martinique gardenia. The effect is eternally woman, unabashedly sexy, and in command. These are all knit together with precious Sacred Frankincense to concoct a bombshell of a fragrance, deep white floral with deep incense leanings. A hypnotic fragrance. So very sweet, so very profound. Feminine, floral, devastating.”

Sweet Mother -- Little And Grim  

“‘Sweet mother, I cannot weave --/ slender Aphrodite has overcome me/ with longing for a girl.’ -Sappho. Notes of lush moss, blooming lilac, French lavender, rose, jasmine, mandarin and lemon zest, warm musk, and lily of the valley.”

Bonus:

Cumulus -- Osmofolia 

Skiing On Europa -- Fyrinnae 

“The atmosphere of a distant moon, not as habitable for mammals as Earth, the thin air reminiscent of high mountain elevations before snowfall. Cold, and ozonic like petrichor.”

Dewdrop

Notes: berries, smoke, wood. Dew smells like resinous woodsmoke, with an unexpected berry undertone. (Just like his personality: brash outside, sweet inside.)

Perfumes:

Ignis -- PULP Fragrance

“Raspberries, fresh ginger, smoky aloeswood, pale blond tobacco leaves & fiery red musk.”

A CITY ON FIRE – Imaginary Authors

“The refined smoke accord makes this an austere and luxurious scent for evenings on the town, whether with a special someone or alone and looking for trouble.”

cade oil, spikenard, cardamom, clearwood, dark berries, labdanum, burnt match

Bonus: 

The Center of the Universe -- Alkemia Perfumes   

“The center of our universe is raspberries and rum? In a vast dust cloud at the center of the Milky Way there is an abundance of ethyl formate, a simple aliphatic ester found in the smell of rum and raspberries. To these elements, we've added notes from astronauts' descriptions of the smell of their suits when they return from space walks - freshly welded metal, gun powder, seared steak in an iron pan, burnt almond cookies, charcoal, and ozone.”

Ifrit

Notes: black tea, incense. Ifrit smells heavy and dark in a way that makes you want more. Very mysterious, even though his personality doesn't really match.

Perfumes:

Black Tea -- Possets 

“The most dark and the most tannic of teas. Somehow that puckery quality becomes addictive. Just right for a seductive night deep in July or August where humidity makes itself into a sexy accessory. Not subtle but very alluring. Pure and beautiful, incense floats over it all and the effect is so much like the vapor lines of a mirage. Tea-like but not sweet.”

(this is one of my favorite fragrances EVER, i wear it like every day)

O, UNKNOWN! – Imaginary Authors 

“At the risk of sounding bleak, this night could be your last. Splash on O, Unknown! and plunge forth into prosperity and joy. Repeat as often as you are able.”

black tea, lapsang souchong tincture, orris butter, kyoto moss, musk balsam, sandalwood

Bonus:

The Ifrit -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab 

Mist

Notes: water, herbs. Mist smells aquatic and green, like spring rain or a pond full of plants. There's an icy, aloof edge to her scent.

Perfumes:

Taste of Rain -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“A primordially vernal chypre consecrated by silver rain, green ivy, holy basil, lilacs, moss, and wisteria.”

Diaphanous Dress -- Possets 

“If the lovely Primavera would wear a gown, she might be dressed in a garment made of snow crystals and flowers. Even into April, spring can get cold even while the flowers we all love press upward. Spring displays irony in her variability. Deepest and richest Mexican vanilla troupes bravely with the chill aquatic of snow falling in heavy doses and melting almost on contact. A tuft of chlorophyll is in the background and a hint of the flowers it all overtakes for just a while. This is an enchanting fragrance, a hypnotic springtime blend which is more about the atmosphere than the real flowers themselves.”

Bonus: 

Ammil -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“An olfactory journey that morphs like melting ice... starting cold and aloof with distinct elements of wet snow and ice then gradually unfolding to reveal an indescribably unique velvety skin warmth.”

Mountain

Notes: vetiver, greenery, earth, mushrooms. Mountain smells very green and earthy, almost like he was recently underground, or maybe like he spent all day tending to a fragrant garden (he did).

Perfumes:

Hedale Wood -- Little And Grim

“This fragrance is dark and a bit mysterious, while staying green enough to be worn without smelling too villainous.”

vetiver, cedar trees, bergamot, dense foliage, coriander, musk, sandalwood, frankincense, a touch of lavender, amber

Heirloom Tomato Leaf -- Fyrinnae

“Rows of tomato plants on a humid day, their unmistakable heavy green fragrance filling the air and clinging to your hands as you touch the leaves. This is not a solitary note perfume, but includes significant notes of damp soil and humid air.”

Bonus:

Beneath The Forest -- Fyrinnae  

“Beneath the trees, where scant sunlight ever reaches and few green plants grow, mushrooms (and decay) flourish in the ever-damp soil, surrounded by darkness. Step carefully, there could be traps.”

Nimbus*

Notes: peach, rose, wood. Nimbus smells sweet and slightly earthy, with an overwhelming ripe peach heart and a floral edge. Very pretty, very cheerful, but not childish.

Perfumes:

South Star -- PULP Fragrance 

“Sweet creamy peach, vanilla beans, liatrix, & a woody-ambrette accord, all topped off with a hint of cinnamon.”

Someone Tell Lady Luck -- Little And Grim 

lemongrass, bright fresh ginger, verbena, sweet peaches, bamboo, and clean rain on city streets

Bonus: 

Aurora -- Alkemia Perfumes 

Armenian Rose -- Fyrinnae 

“The fragrance of dark red rose petals and sweeter pink roses with the earthy scent of native lilies.”

*i headcanon nimbus as a earth/air multi

Omega

Notes: wood, amber, tobacco. Omega smells warm, but not quite comforting. He smells like he knows more than you (he does) and like he's a little bit disappointed in you (he might be). He smells like he COULD be comforting, if you managed to earn his approval.

Perfumes:

Bibliotheca -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A vintage elegance of leatherbound books, plush club chairs, vintage vinyl records, polished mahogany tables, fountain pen ink, black tea, dark plum brandy, vetiver, rosewood, artemesia, white carnation, lavender water, citron, tweedy woolens, and oakmoss.”

(i have this one! it's surprisingly woody)

Bronze and Blaze -- Alkemia Perfumes

“Autumnal bronze amber aged with cognac barrel staves, red oak leaves, Perique pipe tobacco, raw wool, ripe pumpkin, opoponax (sweet myrrh), and soft suede gloves warmed by a creamy steamy cup of Bourbon vanilla coffee.”

Rain

Notes: seawater, ozone. Rain smells like the ocean, or more accurately, like a siren that wants to lure you out to sea and kill you. Wet, a little bit green, sweet and salty.

Perfumes:

Mermaids in the Basement -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A siren song of seawater soaked linen, aquatic incense, white ginger, pomelo, limoncello, dry moss, clary sage, cactus flower, prickly pear, loquat, fir resin, cedar needles, mesquite pods, Hinoki wood, Guaiac wood, and Elemi resin.”

EVERY STORM A SERENADE – Imaginary Authors 

danish spruce, eucalyptus, vetiver, calone, ambergris, baltic sea mist

Bonus:

Black Squall -- Fyrinnae 

“Open waters of the deepest blue, eerily calm before the looming arcus cloud in the distance bears down, revealing the wrath of the storm behind it. There was little left to do now but watch and wait. Cold and clean-smelling seawater, ozonic air, now and then a little olive oil from the lamps.”

Sunshine/Stratus**

Notes: strawberries, citrus, vanilla, spices. Sunny smells like summer. She smells like ripe fruit, sweet cold drinks, and sun, with a little bit of unexpected spice.

Perfumes:

Strawberry Lemonade -- PULP Fragrance 

“Fresh strawberries, lemonade, and a bowl of strawberry-vanilla ice cream.”

Lola -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“A dramatic splash of Coca-cola trailed by an adoration of blood orange, pink peppercorns, caviar lime, orange blossom, tonka, spicy nutmeg dancing sinuously across a base of warm Brazilian cherrywood.”

Bonus:

Stratus -- Osmofolia 

Prairie 66 -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“The smell of an old cement-paved road in the desert just before dawn when the cement is cold and almost, but not quite damp. Flowering desert sage, aldehydes, grapefruit, Linden blossoms, bergamot, saffron, gray amber, yucca, yuzu, and cool concrete. ”

**i headcanon sunny as a fire/air multi

Swiss***

Notes: smoke, musk, patchouli. Swiss smells dark but welcoming, unpredictable but attractive. He smells the way velvet feels: sweet, smoky, decadent.

Perfumes:

Smoke & Mirrors -- Alkemia Perfumes

“An elusive, smokey blend of burning wood, Madagascar Vanilla, and Tonka. We find this one to be elementally simple, but unusually mercurial and highly responsive to different skin chemistries… the vanilla and the smoke dance with each other almost continuously… sometimes the foreground is smoky, then sweet, then returns with sweetly smoky, then smoky.”

Allen Ginsberg - Howl -- Possets  

“Possets' interpretation of Howl is unabashedly sexy, driven mad by welling passions. Black, red and amber musks wrestle furiously with sandalwood and opium tar resin. There is nothing light or gentle about this scent. A burning incense backs it up, black patchouli stands in the forefront. Dark, musky, resinous. Tremendously savage, dark and sweet like molasses rather than sugar. ...and yet, there is something innocent about it all.”

(i have howl and it's SO good and so perfect for swiss)

***i headcanon swiss as a fire/water multi

Zephyr

Notes: dust, ozone. Zephyr smells like the air where something once was, or maybe where something is and has been too long. Dusty, faintly sweet, slightly melancholic.

Perfumes:

Dustsceawung -- Alkemia Perfumes

“The scent of forbidden explorations and an olfactory meditation on dust... attic air, the inside of old trunks, abandoned haylofts, library stacks, and abandoned buildings. Dustsceawung is the contemplation of dust, worldly desires, and the ephemerality of all things... raspings that were once a tree, ruins that were once cities, bones that were once lovers. Dust is always the ultimate destination on our journey.”

 Hauntology -- PULP Fragrance 

“Ozone, olibanum, the air in a closed up kitchen cupboard that might once have held raisins and dried apricots, ambergris, burled briarwood, & the lost futures of a home abandoned.”

Bonus:

Zephyr -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

if you made it to the end of this i admire your dedication. and i would love to hear what you think!

[cynicalrainbows]

Yellowjackets AU in which Crystal and Misty don’t wait til they’re on the island to become besties. Misty, while still retaining her essential Misty-ness, wouldn’t be quite so isolated and starved of affection and acceptance that she’d choose staying stranded vs potentially getting rescued, so she leaves the Black Box alone, the girls are rescued after a couple of weeks and they all live more or less happily.

OR alternatively: Crystal befriends Misty and gets her into theatre. Their theatre commitments mean that neither of them go to Nationals and the rest of the Yellowjackets....well, they still get stranded and end up eating each other but on the plus side, Misty absolutely kills it during the school production of Steel Magnolias and Crystal ends up being Aunty Crystal to Caligula.

[anmylica]

The City of Lights

A Captain Swan Fanfiction for @jrob64 as part of the CS Gift Exchange 2022.

Surprise! I am your gift exchange writer for this year’s exchange! I hope I nailed your request this year for a modern AU holiday fic! I am going to post this in two parts (because I am incapable of restraint, apparently). Part 2 will be posted on NYE!

Summary: Killian Jones has been waiting for the perfect opportunity to propose to the love of his life, Emma Swan. When he’s presented with the opportunity to whisk her away on a weekend trip to visit the Festival of Lights in Natchitoches, Louisiana, he’s confident that the perfect time will present itself. But even the best laid plans often go awry…

Tagging my usual crew: (want to be added? Let me know!) @xarandomdreamx @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @tiganasummertree @zaharadessert

Killian Jones opened the door of his apartment to the sound of his girlfriend, Emma “Swan” Nolan, quoting Steel Magnolias verbatim as the television blared in the background.  Emma was spread out on the couch, trying to cover every square inch of its surface with her body, blankets, and pillows, eating peanut butter straight out of the jar and quoting lines as if she were Shelby Eatenton herself.  He smiled at the sight she presented.

“You’re as bad as Mary Margaret, I hope you realize,” he called to the blonde, causing her to jump, as she didn’t hear the door open.

“You’re home early!” Emma exclaimed, smiling to see him but not moving from her spot on the couch.  “Slow shift?”

“Aye, it was.  I’m technically still on call for the next thirty minutes, but it should stay quiet.”  Killian removed his Boston PD jacket and placed his radio on the counter, making sure to turn the dial on the volume loud enough to hear it should he get called out.

Emma hummed, turning her attention back to the movie for a moment, quoting the lines, “My colors are blush and bashful” with the practiced ease of someone who had seen the movie dozens of times before.

Killian moved to sit on the arm of the couch.  “Would you want the colors of your wedding to be blush and bashful, love?”

Emma’s eyes widened and she made a shocked trilling sound in the back of her throat.  “Woah, woah, woah,” she started, wholeheartedly engaging in the game of cat and mouse they always partook when the subject was brought up.  Though Emma was not opposed to marriage (in fact, she was actually hoping that wedding bells would ring in the very near future), it was a running gag amongst all her friends and family that just the hint of white lace would set her running for the hills.

Killian held his hand up, cutting off her reply, and inserted, “Calm down, Swan, I’m not proposing.”  His eyes were on the screen so he missed the disgusted, let down expression that crossed her face at his words.  “I’m merely curious since this is your favorite movie if you would ever want to use the same color scheme.”

Emma huffed.  “I like blush and bashful well enough, but I wouldn’t want them together,” she replied tersely, a little annoyed with her boyfriend of three years.

Killian had brushed off any mentions of their making their relationship legal, a fact which Emma played off in front of their friends (especially her brother and his wife, Mary Margaret) but Emma secretly loathed.  She had been hinting for weeks and weeks that she was ready, but he either was playing dumb or he truly didn’t pick up on her hints.  She was about ready to admit that maybe she needed to be a little less subtle in her desires, but she wasn’t quite ready to throw in the towel yet.  What she didn’t realize was that Killian was very well-aware of her desires and was merely acting in that manner to make her less suspicious of his intentions.

“Too much pink, eh?”  Killian smirked.

Emma shrugged and said, “Maybe for you.”

The two fell into a companionable silence as they watched the screen for a few more moments.  When a shot of the town the movie was filmed in was shown, Emma said, “I’d love to see where they filmed this.”

Killian frowned.  “Where did they film it?”

“I have no idea,” Emma said as she grabbed her phone.  After a quick search, she announced, “It was filmed in a place called,” and she paused.  “I don’t know how to say this.”

Killian looked at the screen “Natch-uh-toes-es?” 

Emma shrugged and scrolled.  “It’s in Louisiana, apparently.  Just about an hour south of Shreveport on the western side of the state.”

Killian nodded.  “You want to go one day?”

Emma scoffed.  “There’s nothing there except trees and rednecks with jacked-up trucks, I’m sure.”

Killian took the phone from her and scrolled through some of the information.  “It says they have a ‘Festival of Lights’ in December.  It’s actually already started.”  

Emma gave him a side-eyed look.  “That’s just a way to draw tourists in to make money off the unsuspecting people who think there’s more there than there really is.”

Killian nodded in response absentmindedly.  An idea was forming in his mind.  He knew Emma actually would enjoy that trip, as they had done several like it in times past.  She was just trying to downplay how badly she wanted to tour the town so as to cope with the disappointment of not being able to go.  The best thing about her job is she could work from just about anywhere, as she worked in bail bonds, which required research online, and only paid her a check upon the successful delivery of the fugitive she was hunting.  If she wanted to take a few days’ vacation, then she could with no issues.  Killian had some time accumulated with the police force, and it would be nothing more than applying for a few days off.  

He continued to look through the pictures of the festival.  It looked quaint, with the lighted displays glinting off the water of the Cane River and accompanied by horse-drawn carriage rides.  Killian could suddenly feel a hole burning in his pocket, so to speak, at the thought of being able to propose to Emma in that setting.  He had bought the ring ages ago and was simply waiting for a moment when the time felt right.  Perhaps that would be it?  His mind suddenly made up, he handed her back her phone.

Emma took it absentmindedly, her attention already back on the movie.  Killian got up and moved to grab his radio even though his shift would end in just a few minutes.  He picked it up and carried it with him to the bedroom, where he closed the door and took out his phone to call his shift captain to arrange the vacation time. 

Once he had the necessary arrangements made, he called David (who, besides being Emma’s brother, was his partner with the Boston PD) and asked him to help him look at hotels, flights, and other necessities.  He also filled David in on his plan for proposing to his sister, a fact of which David was already aware. Within about forty minutes, Killian had plane tickets, a hotel room reserved, a rental car lined up, and was quickly looking up information on the Festival of Lights itself to plan out an itinerary.

He answered Emma when she called out to him wanting to know what he wanted for dinner, and then made his way to the shower to get rid of the dirt and grime that he often felt after a day spent upholding law and order.  A satisfied smirk on his face, he began whistling as he turned on the water.

This was going to be a Christmas surprise that Emma would never forget.

After his shower, he discreetly printed the plane tickets, hotel confirmation, rental agreement for the car they would need, and placed all the documents in a Manila folder.  Peeking into the living room, he saw that Emma was now sobbing in tears at the scene on the screen of Shelby’s funeral.  He smiled at her show of emotion.  Emma “Swan” Nolan may wear a layer of red leather as armor, but he knew she was a closet romantic and the sweetest soul he knew.  The only person he knew that could even hold a candle to her purity was Mary Margaret, David’s wife and Emma’s sister-in-law, and even she wasn’t on Emma’s level in some ways.

Killian watched Emma watch the screen, appreciating this quiet moment that he never thought he’d get to have.  After so many things had nearly torn them apart, from vengeful exes to their own stubbornness in admitting their feelings and then their sometimes dangerous jobs, he had never thought they would get here, but he now had everything he ever wanted.

Lost in his reverie, he didn’t notice when the movie ended and Emma stood up and sauntered over to him, a seductive smile on her face, though tear tracks stained her cheeks.  He thought there was no better sight than Emma in sweats and no makeup coming towards him with that look in her eyes.  

“Hey, Lieutenant, what’s a girl gotta do to get some company?” She wrapped her arms around him and he reciprocated the gesture, smiling as he did so.  “What’s that you’ve got?” She nodded towards the folder.

He lifted it and handed it to her.  “See for yourself.”

Emma took the folder and opened it, wondering what was in it.  She studied the print-outs for a moment, her brow furrowed, before she realized what she was looking at.  “Is this-” she started.

“A trip, fully booked and paid for, for us to go to this Natchitoches place to see where they filmed your second favorite movie in the whole wide world,” he finished for her.  “Aye, love.  It’s part of my Christmas gift to you.”

Emma’s eyes widened at what he said.  “You really booked this for us?”

Killian nodded.  “Just this evening.  You can’t fool me, Swan, I know you’d love to make that trip.  You’re always on about how beautiful the place looks on the screen.”

Emma smiled at him.  “Do I want to make that trip?”

Killian smirked.  “Well, you’re something of an open book.”

They both laughed and embraced for a long moment.  FInally pulling apart, but not completely, Emma gave him a sly smile and a pointed look.

“I believe I should show my gratitude, don’t you think, Lieutenant?”

Killian tapped his lips and returned her sly smile.  “Perhaps gratitude is in order now.”

Emma rose up and kissed him fiercely, grabbing his shirt to tug her closer.  Dropping the folder, he picked her up to carry her into the bedroom.  Everything else could wait.  He had his Swan to ravish, first.

Several days later, Emma was desperately trying to pack her carry-on suitcase for their trip.  Nothing seemed to be exactly right, though she didn’t know much about the Southern states’ climate having grown up only in the northern states.  She had desperately called Mary Margaret over to help, and her sister-in-law had promptly arrived thirty minutes later bearing two hot chocolates in hand, ready to help Emma solve her latest crisis.

“What do you even wear in Louisiana in December?!” Emma shouted in frustration, tugging at her hair as she scanned the contents of her side of the closet.  Their plane was set to leave from Logan International in the morning, and she was now only half packed. She had the essentials in her suitcase, like comfortable pajamas and her toiletries, but the actual outfits to wear during the day were still yet to be picked.  It was the beginning of winter, and Boston had snow on the ground already, but Louisiana wasn’t a winter state. Did they even get snow? What was their average temperature this time of year? Did she need a swimsuit? Did they go swimming in December? Emma let her head thump against the frame of the closet door in frustration.

“Clothes might be the best option,” David replied, coming in to get Killian’s suitcase to help load it in Killian’s truck so they wouldn’t be lugging heavy bags around in the morning in a rush. 

Emma rolled her eyes. “Nah, I think I’ll just wear my tattoo and a smile,” she snarled back at her brother. David grinned and grabbed the packed suitcase, walking out without replying.

Mary Margaret breezed in behind him after a bathroom break, replying as she did so, “Louisiana is usually around mid to low 70s or high 60s during the day at this time of year, and anywhere in the high forties or low 50s at night.  They would be warmer or colder, but it usually won’t be by much. Jeans, sweaters, some lighter shirts, a jacket and maybe a hat and gloves and boots, should be all you’ll need for the temperatures.”

Emma looked at her best friend in disbelief, leaning her head against the closet door frame. “Seriously? When did you become an expert in climates of states you’ve never been to?”

Mary Margaret handed Emma her phone with a weather app pulled up that showed a graphic of the same information she just told Emma. “Since I Googled it.”

Emma smiled in response, rolling her eyes as she turned back to her closet. She settled on pulling out her favorite pair of jeans, a pair of leggings, and a skirt that she liked to wear for dates with Killian sometimes. She threw them haphazardly in her suitcase, which caused Mary Margaret to tut in exasperation at her sister-in-law’s messy habits as she grabbed the items to fold them properly.

“Do you want tights to go with this skirt,” Mary Margaret asked as Emma dug for her favorite white Aran knit sweater. 

“Yes, can you grab me a pair of black ones?” 

Mary Margaret moved to grab the item Emma would need, and when she turned back to place the item in the suitcase, she saw Emma holding a black leather dress with a thoughtful look on her face.

“New dress?” Mary Margaret asked, noticing the tags still on it.

“Yeah,” Emma replied, a little breathlessly. “I bought it as a surprise for Killian for a special celebration.”

The brunette smiled excitedly. “Do you think he’s going to propose on this trip?”

Emma shook her head slightly. “I don’t think he even realizes that’s what I want.”

“Then you should tell him! And pack that dress just in case! If nothing else, you can wear it to tell him you’re ready to take the next step.”

Emma winced a bit. “What if he doesn’t feel the same?” she whispered softly, fearful of the possibility that the answer was that Killian didn’t feel the same as she did.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret chided gently. “Of course he feels the same! He told David that he was ‘in this for the long haul.’ His exact words. A proposal is probably going to happen sooner than you think!”

Emma sighed. “I hope so. I never thought I would find what we have together. I don’t want to lose it.”

Mary Margaret hugged her close and Emma held on tightly to her sister-in-law. “You won’t. And you should bring that dress and a pair of red heels with you on your trip.”

Emma smiled and turned to place the dress in the suitcase. “I think I will.”

Feeling much more centered, Emma quickly grabbed the rest of her items and finished packing. She rolled her bag out to the living room and passed it off to David. Killian was just coming back inside from where he had walked downstairs with David to load up his luggage.

“All set, love?” He asked, taking her in his arms. 

Emma nodded contentedly. “All set,” she sighed happily. She held onto him as tight as she could. She couldn’t wait for their next adventure together.

The roar of the planes taking off the next day could be heard in the background as Killian argued with the woman behind the counter at the car rental inside Dallas Fort-Worth International about the rental he had reserved. Emma stood a little ways down the concourse from him watching the planes arrive and depart through one of the windows, though she could still hear his frustration. It seemed that his information and reservation had been lost.

The plane ride from Boston to Dallas had been uneventful. Emma loved quick plane rides that didn’t involve any hassle. She just wanted to get where she needed to be. Having Killian be there to handle any problems they encountered was a blessing to her.

“Well, Swan, it seems we finally have a vehicle. The woman said the drive was a little under four hours if we hit traffic right.”  Killian had moved behind her while she was ruminating on her thoughts. She turned and smiled.

“Lead the way.”

They walked out of the airport and to the location of the car. Once they located it, they loaded their luggage and began to make the next part of their journey. Killian sang along to the radio as Emma stared at the scenery. Everything looked very different from home, though it did grow monotonous after a while.  After a couple of hours, they arrived in Shreveport and stopped for a quick lunch before continuing south on Interstate 49 to Natchitoches. They arrived at the Natchitoches exit around three in the afternoon.  Emma looked at the hotels and fast food joints that surrounded Highway 6 and turned to Killian.

“Is our hotel here?”

He grinned in reply.  “I thought we would stay at a more ‘on location’ site and booked us at the Saint Denis Hotel.  It’s right along Front Street.”

Emma nodded in understanding and kept watch out of the window.  As they came into the outskirts of the city, she noticed a university of some sort to the right.  

“Is that Northwestern State University?” She asked.  

Killian nodded.  “I think so.  We have tickets to a show their performing arts center is performing tomorrow night.”

Emma raised her eyebrows in mock disbelief.  “Getting fancy on me, aren’t you?”

Killian laughed.  “It’s called the Christmas Gala.  We’re going to dinner before and then the show starts at 9. I hope you brought something appropriate to wear.”  Killian shot her a sly look and licked his lips.  Emma laughed in delight, grateful now that she had listened to Mary Margaret’s advice about packing her black leather dress.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She teased back.  Killian grinned wider but didn’t say anything, instead turning his attention back to the road.  They drove past the college, eventually turning left onto Jefferson Street.

Up until that point, there had been Christmas lights draped along light poles and various other points, but the moment they turned onto Jefferson, the lights started.  As they drove, the road felt as if they were entering a tunnel of multicolored lights.  Light strands zigzagged above them, and there were light-drawn figures on every telephone pole.  As they drove, they could see some of the scenes that Natchitoches was famous for this time of year. It looked amazing, and it wasn’t even dusk yet.

After trawling through bumper to bumper traffic and getting turned around for a moment or two, they finally arrived.  The hotel lobby was decorated in a modern Provencal style that Emma had seen once before during a brief trip to New Orleans during Marci Gras with Killian a couple of years before.  Although not as ornate as other places Emma had seen, it still had a homey feel to the place.  Check-in was much less of a hassle than getting their rental car was, too, Emma noticed.  Once they made it into their room, which was decorated in a similar style, they set their luggage down and Emma flopped onto the bed.  Killian sat on the edge, watching her in amusement.

“Tired, love?” He asked.  It had been a long day of travel, after all.

Emma closed her eyes and nodded.  “A little.”

“What do you think so far?” 

“Emma opened her eyes and looked at him.  “Well, you’re sitting too prim for me but at least you're on the bed.”  Emma shrugged slightly, holding back a teasing grin.

Killian rolled his eyes.  “I meant about the town, Swan.”

“I know what you meant,” Emma laughed before continuing, “honestly, it’s all a bit cheesy, but I can see why it’s a popular lights destination for this area.  I’ve had fun so far.”

“I’m glad,” Killian replied and bent down to place a soft kiss on her lips, which she happily returned.  After several moments, he pulled away and stood.  “If you’ll get freshened up, we’ll go walk downtown and scope out the place.  I’ve heard they have a lot of great food here.”

Emma smiled and got up and walked to the bathroom.  “I’ll be right out,” she said, cocking her hips to the side sassily.

He laughed and returned, “I’ll be waiting.”

Once he was. certain she was ensconced in the shower, the door firmly closed behind her, he let out a shaky breath and put his hand in his pocket.  Clasping it in his hand, he pulled out a black velvet box and opened it.  The engagement ring was nestled safely inside, the huge center stone glistening in the light coming from the bedside lamps.  

Killian wasn’t sure when exactly he was going to propose, but he hoped that tomorrow night might provide the most romantic scene.  Surely there would be an opportunity sometime between dinner, the concert, and hopefully a nice stroll along the river taking in the lights.  Maybe they would luck out and get to do a carriage ride on one of the horse-drawn carriages he had spotted as they arrived.  All he knew was that he couldn't wait any longer.  He had had the ring for several months now, but something always stopped him from asking her.  

But not this time.  When they flew back to Boston in three days’ time, they would be engaged.  He knew Emma wanted it just as badly as he did, and there wasn’t anything he wouldn't do to help her have one of the best Christmas seasons of her life.  He just hoped he didn’t chicken out once he found the right moment.

An hour later, they were strolling along Front Street taking in the sights. The lights were on, but the sun hadn’t yet set, and Killian knew they would be better once it was dark. The streets were busy, as the area drew in a lot of tourism and the college kids were still in class and would likely continue to be until around the 15th. Emma, in true Emma fashion, found a street vendor who was selling hot chocolate, and they bought a couple of to-go cups and sipped on them as they walked. 

They passed a lot of shops, one of which was the Kaffie-Frederick General Mercantile Store, which was a blast from the past that was apparently founded in 1838. They learned from a local working the cash register that the name of the town wasn’t pronounced how it looked. 

“It’s pronounced ‘Nack-a-tish,” the friendly-faced woman laughed, seemingly not surprised by their lack of ability at pronouncing the name. “It was the name of a local Native American tribe. You’d actually be surprised how many people come here unable to pronounce it.  And don’t even try to ask Siri anything about it.  She doesn’t understand the word at all!”

Killian and Emma shared a glance of amazement at just how wrong they had gotten the name, quickly wrapping up their purchases.  After they deposited their purchases in their room, it was late enough for them to grab dinner at one of the restaurants on Front Street, a place called Mama’s that was adjoined to another place called Papa’s.  Dinner passed quickly with both enjoying the live music playing and being together in a place where they had no worries.  Killian kept sneaking glances at her when she was watching the band, struck by how happy and relaxed she looked.  

Perhaps this was the moment?  Should he get down on one knee now?  Though he hadn’t planned on asking for her hand tonight, it seemed as if this time could be the time.  His hand drifted to the pocket of his leather jacket and gripped the black box residing in it.  Emma laughed at something the lead singer said (what it was, Killian couldn’t have said, because nothing existed but Emma and this moment), and he pulled the box out.

“Emma?” He called, a little louder than normal so as to be heard over the din.

She turned and looked at him, smiling brightly.  “Yeah, babe?”

He broke off for a moment as she looked at him expectantly.  The words he wanted to say, of adoration and forever and will you be mine, got stuck in his throat.  He cleared it, and grabbed her hand.  “I love you,” he stated a little flatly, let down by his inability to say what he wanted.  

Emma chuckled softly.  “I love you, too,” she replied.  “Are you okay?  You looked almost nervous just now.”

“I’m fine, love.” He looked down at the table for a moment, caressing her hand with his thumb, before he looked up and caught her eyes again.  “We’ve been together for a while, haven’t we?  Shared many adventures together?” He asked, trying to buy some time to get his thoughts together.

Emma tilted her head a bit in confusion.  “Aye,” she responded, teasing.  “Why do you bring it up?  You’re not breaking up with me are you?”  Her face fell at the unpleasant thought, and Killian’s heart skipped a beat at her words.

“Of course not!  I would never- I want you by my side always!”

Emma’s face relaxed from relief.  “Oh, good.  That’s good because I feel the same way.”

“I can’t believe you would think I’d take you all this way to break up with you,” Killian responded, momentarily derailed from the romantic speech he didn’t have planned to ask the question he knew that both of them wanted yet fully paralyzed him with fear at articulating to her.

Emma laughed and shrugged.  “Stranger things have happened to me before.”

“Indeed, they have,” Killian responded, not continuing as the waitress came over to see if they needed anything else.  Once they had settled the bill with her, they had silently agreed that it was a good time to head back to their room.  Killian lamented that the moment had passed, but he also couldn’t help but feel some relief.  If he couldn’t get out the question without botching it up, then he shouldn’t ask it until he could do so without making her question if he’s about to end their relationship.

After they had been walking for a moment or two, Emma said, “So why did you bring up how long we’ve been together?”

Killian looked out at the scene before them, of the glimmer of the lights on the Cane River and the romantic atmosphere of the quaint college town.  “I was just thinking about how much we’ve seen and done,” he finally responded before looking at her.  “There’s no one else I’d rather go through life with.”

Emma smiled and stopped them from walking any further.  She leaned up and gave him a long, slow, soft kiss, one that Killian gladly returned.  Their mouths moved in the perfect sync that came from years of devotion and adoration.  Killian drew her further into his embrace, wrapping his arms around her as she moved one hand to clench in his hair and the other to cup the back of his neck.  Neither carried the kiss much further, aware as they were of being in the middle of a public sidewalk with many other people around them for the festivities, but the heat that always seemed to simmer between them was stoked to a higher flame.

As they both pulled away from the kiss, Killian rested his forehead against hers.  He looked into her eyes, asking a silent question, one that Emma responded to with a similar look.  They both turned and quickly finished the trek back to their hotel room.  Once inside, they gave into the passion and love that consumed them in the dance of lovers as old as time itself.  After they lay sated and entwined, Killian briefly thought of asking her then, but when he turned his head to broach the subject, he saw that Emma lay peacefully asleep.  Smiling, he tugged her closer and gave into the exhaustion that ebbed at his consciousness.  There was always tomorrow, after all.

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (21-27 May 2023)

ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵏʳᵒⁿ ᵃʳᵗ ᵐᵘˢᵉᵘᵐ ʰᵃˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᶦˣ ᵍᵒⁿᶻᵃˡᵉᶻ ᵗᵒʳʳᵉˢ ᶦⁿˢᵗᵃˡˡᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿˢ ˢᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵃⁿ ᵘⁿᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵐᵒᵗᶦᵒⁿᵃˡ ˢᵘʳᵖʳᶦˢᵉ ⁽ᶦ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏᵉᶦᵗʰ ʰᵃʳᶦⁿᵍ ᵉˣʰᶦᵇᶦᵗ ʷʰᶦᶜʰ ʷᵃˢ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᶠᵃⁿᵗᵃˢᵗᶦᶜ⁾

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰👂‍Sorcery & Cecelia: or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot (Cecelia and Kate #1) (Patricia C. Wrede & Caroline Stevermer, author; Lucy Rayner, narrator) - epistolary fantasy regency - formative & beloved and still a fave comfort read

😍Werewolves in the Workplace (leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)) - 45K, stucky AU, were!bucky, vamp!steve, SHIELD, partners-to-friends-to-lovers - fucking awesome fic!

🥰👂‍This Is How You Lose The Time War (Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone, author; Cynthia Farrell & Emily Woo Zeller, narrators) - this had been in my TBR forever but all the recent fuss with bigolas dickolas reminded me and made me bump it to the top - I genuinely loved it and am looking forward to rereading it; books with wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff are good for a reread

🙂Politics and Animals (Kryptaria, zooeyscigar) - 73K, stucky no-powers modern AU with some D/s stuff - enjoyable enough and I don't regret finishing it but it left me kinda meh

🙂Pretty Good Neighbor (Jeffrey Ford) - freebie horror/sci fi short story

💖💖 +188K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

Relationship Goals: Have a Relationship (cleo4u2, xantissa) - MCU: shrunkyclunks, 21K - reread, fave - wrong number AU

bene castigat series (Nonymos) - MCU: no powers shrinkyclinks, clintasha, 69K - reread, forever fave - really excellent BDSM series with tiny sadist dom steve and beefy masochist sub bucky + lots of great appearances/involvement of clint, natasha & sam

Flex and Flexibility (musette22) - MCU: shrunkyclunks, 4K - adorable meet cute

Push It (thepinupchemist) - MCU: stucky+peggy, 8K - modern AU, basically 3some pwp: they're all alternative models doing a lingerie photoshoot that turns into sex. very hot

i'm so in love that i might stop breathing (i wanna brainwash you into loving me forever) (instantcaramel) - Ted Lasso: Keeley/Roy/Jamie, 4K - post 3.11, jamie's not sure how he fits in but roy & keeley reassure him

My Heart Belongs to Captain Rogers (lavenderbucky) - MCU: stucky, 2K - established relationship, super cute accidental clothes sharing leads to social media meltdown (positive)

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Um, Actually - s3, e2-7; s8, e5

Ted Lasso - s3, e11 [x2]

Ghosted

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

The Sporkful - Comic Jamie Loftus’s Hot Dog Summer

Into It - ‘The Little Mermaid’ and the Black Princess Test

Re: Dracula - May 24: It Never Rains but it Pours

Vibe Check - You’re the Warm up Act, Honey

⭐You Are Good - Steel Magnolias w. Ali Soukovich

Re: Dracula - May 25: Mingle Our Weeps

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Tina Turner

Richmond Til We Die: A Ted Lasso Podcast - Willing a Roy Kent and Jamie Tartt Duet Into Existence (with Julie Stewart-Binks)

The Waves Plus - I Don’t Care If You Like Me

Re: Dracula - May 26: Count Me in Every Time

Into It - Are We Into the End of 'Succession' and HBO Max? (Plus: We Remember Tina Turner)

Pop Culture Happy Hour - The Little Mermaid and What's Making Us Happy

Ologies with Alie Ward - Field Trip: A Hollywood Visit to the Writers Guild Strike Line

⭐Sidedoor - The Funk List

Our Opinions Are Correct - Mini Episode: Our Favorite New TV Show of 2023!

Our Opinions Are Correct - MINI EPISODE: Are People Finally Sick of Superhero Movies?

Switched on Pop - Listening 2 Daft Punk: Discovery

99% Invisible #538 - Train Set: Track Three

⭐Twenty Thousand Hertz+ - Vocal Stratosphere

Hit Parade Plus - The Bridge: The Sun Never Set on the Britpop Empire

Shedunnit - Bonus: Julia Jones on Margery Allingham

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Relaxing '80s Rock

my 'Likes' playlist [every song is a certified banger but it is almost 600 songs long and took me 5 days to get thru. no regrets!]

[noramoons]

tagged by @decembermoonskz ! ty for thinking of me izzy lovie 💛💛

favorite color: all blues and greens hehe

currently reading: the midnight library - matt haig (ngl i am so close to dropping this LOL)

last song: beautiful monster - stayc

last series: bungou stray dogs (rewatching w my dad before season 4 starts next year!)

last movie: steel magnolias

currently working on: a steamy mingi drabble, what lies beneath (siren!hongjoong), and a secret historical au 🤭

tagging: @end-hyphen @nightlychans @ipegchangbin @reaperhwa @seung-scrittore + @txtkids ! as always no pressure whatsoever to do these :)

[teakookssi]

Before I Leave You [Eren/Levi x Reader FF]

[ curated playlist ][ full story can be found here or here ]

[Overview & prologue]

➺ pairing: levi ackerman/eren jeager x fem!reader

➺ status: continuous

➺content: mafia au, crime, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, angst, lol so much angst

➺warnings: SHIT. IS. DARK. YO. violence, blood, strong language, guns/weapons, and illegal activities are all mentioned but hey, that’s attack on titan for you, so if you can handle that, you can handle this (:

chapter 3: in the company of killers pt 2

You curse under your breath at the sight of your fiancée making his way into the room.

Levi alone is enough to make things difficult for you, but if he was here, then your father wasn’t far behind, and you glance nervously to the door behind him. The last thing you want to deal with right now is your father berating you for your carelessness and underestimating your enemies when you were doing that just fine on your own.

Yet Levi appears to be alone, flanked only by his two usual guards and closest companions, Furlan Church and Isabel Magnolia. They wear the same tailored suits and coats as you and your cadre to conceal the weapons underneath — weapons, you suspect, that hardly ever leave their holsters. Levi and his team are known to be just as lethal without them.

A reputation very much on par with your own.

You watch closely as Furlan and Isabel stay behind and wait for Levi dutifully by the door as he cuts across the room towards you, no spoken communication needed between them. And as Levi draws nearer, you notice the dangerously unchecked hint of rage behind Levi’s usually detached gaze that makes most of your circle visibly flinch and step back behind you.

But your own gaze remains just as deadly, and you turn on them before Levi has the chance to reach you.

“Who told him?” you demand angrily.

They stare back at you, nonplussed, clearly not appreciating him being here, either. But then your eyes flicker over to Mikasa, whose stoic posture remains unperturbed.

“He would have found out sooner or later,” she replies unapologetically.

You clench your jaw, not at all surprised to find her responsible. “Yes,” you hiss back at her with great restraint, “when I had taken care of it!”

You then hear Levi’s deep, confident voice cut sharply behind you, and you tense.

“Anya.”

Your hands curl into fists at your side as you steel yourself for what follows. When you turn to face him, his stormy grey eyes stare back at you with furrowed brows. His intense gaze is enough to make anyone cower away.

Anyone, that is, except you.

He quickly scans your face for any signs that you’ve been hurt.

“I'm fine,” you tell him dismissively, ready to turn away, but then his rough and callus hand reaches for your face as something catches his eye. He brushes the front locks of your hair away to reveal the cuts on your brow and cheek that the shards of glass had scraped against your face.

You watch the concern vanish from his eyes and grow murderous as his attention shifts behind him. “Is that him?” he asks.

You follow his line of sight to Eren, who is looking between you and Levi with noticeably confused interest. He turns away when he notices you watching him, but he’s not fast enough. He’s realized the kind of bond you share with Levi based off your briefly intimate interaction with him and he can’t hide the humiliation coloring his cheeks. He must have really believed he had some sort of chance with you back then that you almost feel bad for him. Death should be his number one concern, but the recollection of his cheeky behavior at the pub must be just as horrifying.

You tense as Levi leaves your side to approach Eren’s dejected figure. “Levi,” you say in warning, realizing he probably thinks Eren is to blame for all of this if Mikasa informed him of only what she knows.

But Levi doesn’t listen, his temper long past its wits end. He goes straight for Eren, kicking at him until he has the guy hunched over against his bindings and spiting out blood.

You cross your arms at him with a frown, annoyed. “Can you please keep him alive long enough until I can get some answers out of him first?”

Levi stops, seemingly satisfied with his work, and sweeps the front part of his dark hair back up and out of his face. He starts walking back to you. “You’re done here. Let’s go.” He directs his next order to your cadre. “If he won't talk, kill him. Ymir is not taking any chances with him.”

He brushes past you on his way to the door, expecting you to follow after him, but you can't bring yourself to move. Levi has left Eren bloody and bruised, but he’s voiced what you and your cadre had been ultimately refusing to accept.

Eren is innocent.

One good look at him and Levi knew there was no point in continuing on with the interrogation. He’d seen what you had sensed in Eren when you first laid eyes on him — what you had all seen. Because no one with eyes as kind and naive as his could belong to someone of your enemies organization. If Eren had saved your life, he had done so as the morally upheld individual he was.

But…what did it matter?

He was, as Connie had said, a poor, unfortunate soul caught in the crossfire of one of your family’s ordeals, and his fate was already sealed.

You move to walk away.

“If father wants him dead,” you say indifferently, giving in to Levi’s orders, “then so be it. Clean this place up when you’re finished,” you tell your cadre. “Or Levi will surely have your heads after today.”

You hear Armin take an uneasy step towards you. “But there were witnesses,” he reminds you gently behind you, wishing you to reconsider. “Killing him will cause a rift between the people and House Ymir—”

“The people will believe what we tell them to believe,” you cut him off briskly over your shoulder, not in the mood to be challenged. Until you notice the hesitation in your cadre’s tense postures and clenched fists, at the wary glances they share with each other. And for a split second, you wonder if they will refuse you.

Their loyalty is unquestionable. They will not hesitate to kill for you, but your enemies have never been free of sin. This is the first time you have ever told them to take the life of an innocent.

You turn to them curiously. If you force their hand, will they come to resent you? Those who have been with you longer, like Mikasa and Jean, give you no judgement and will follow your command without question. But there are others, like Historia and Connie, who might regret having joined you at all and choose to desert instead. And you’d rather not lose them so soon. It would be such a shame to let such raw talent go to waste.

You let out a heavy sigh before drawing out your gun.

“Very well, then.”

They might not be able to handle carrying the burden of their guilt, but you’re as corrupt as they come. What was another kill under your ledger in comparison to theirs? Even if it was an innocent one.

Eren, who had been silently watching the exchange between you and your cadre with expectant eyes, reverts to panic as you direct your gun in his direction — your intent for him unmistakable.

“No wait, wait! Please, don’t shoot!” He closes his eyes and shrinks away as he hears you remove the safety, preparing himself for the worst while still trying to talk his way into your favor. “I can help! Let me prove my loyalty to you! Please!”

You hear the wretched sound of his voice break and you pause, your finger curled on the trigger. You run your eyes over him in consideration for a tense minute before ultimately lowering your weapon.

He peeks an eye open after a few seconds have passed and you show no indication of shooting him. He swallows nervously, still eyeing the gun warily at your side. “Please,” he says carefully, not wanting to say or do anything that might provoke you to change your mind. “I swear, I’ll do anything.”

You smirk ruefully.

Liar.

Someone as good-natured as him has always abided by a moral code. He cannot so easily abandon it, even if his life depended on it.

“Anya,” Levi calls to you impatiently from the door, urging you to leave. He senses you scheming and already know’s he disapproves of it, but you ignore him anyway.

You command calmly over your shoulder, “Mikasa. Jean. Bring in the other one.”

Levi tsks, eyeing Mikasa and Jean as they pass him on their way out the room. “Oi, Anya,” he says more firmly, shifting his attentive stance towards you, “we don’t have time for any of your games.”

His voice is impassive as always, but you know him enough to hear the strain in his words. You have him on edge and you can sense him watching you like a hawk, trying to calculate your next move. He hates that you’re always so rash and volatile, especially when on the field. It makes it hard for your team to catch up to you when you suddenly stray off the plan and act of your own accord. But it’s what your father loves best about you. You keep the enemy guessing, never letting them know what you’ll do next. And you take great pride in pleasing your father.

“He saved my life,” you explain to Levi simply. “If he wishes to live by my hand, I will have his undying loyalty first.”

But Levi draws out his gun, refusing to let you have your way. He has predicted what you’re planning for Eren and moves to eliminate him from your game.

Unfortunately for him, you’ve been expecting it.

The second he takes his gun to aim at Eren’s head, you’ve already released your own bullet. It aims true and knocks the gun right off your fiancee’s hand before he even has the chance to pull the trigger. He hisses at the impact and flexes his hand to alleviate the pain before flashing his grey eyes at you, an eyebrow raised indignantly, demanding for an explanation.

“I’m not finished with him,” you offer tersely, eyes focused on Eren, who looks as frightened and bewildered by your behavior to correctly determine if you’re this mentally unhinged or this is somehow all part of your plan.

Levi’s patience wears thin. “You want to add another pet to your collection?” he remarks coldly, running his deadpan gaze to the group of people behind you before turning to Eren with disdain. “I’ve got raggedy-ass shoes that will last longer than him.”

Before you can reply, Mikasa and Jean return with the marksman. You watch Eren closely as they dump the auburn-haired man in front of him, but Eren can only stare on in horror, shocked by the state the man is in. The guy’s barely conscious and is struggling to hold his own ground as he slouches on his knees, head bowed in defeat, with his clothes soiled from his own blood and filth.

Mikasa had been quick to spot him on the rooftop across the Red Rose a few moments after she’d left you and Jean to secure the area. She’d gotten to him the second after he’d pulled the trigger, gambling on the chances that Jean had managed to pull you out of harm’s way in time. And having already killed the two men that had been guarding the door at the roof, she knocked your assassin out cold and brought him back with her to help you figure out who’d hired him.

For that reason you’d let Mikasa, and Jean — who needed some outlet to free himself of the guilt weighing on him from your close call — to lead the interrogation.

“You want to help me?” you ask Eren cooly. With the marksman’s hands tied behind his back, you grab a fistful of his hair and raise his head so Eren can get a clear look at his face. “Tell me who this man is, and decide for yourself whether he deserves to live.”

A flicker of recognition immediately registers across Eren’s features and you tense, thinking maybe you were wrong about him after all and he was in fact working with the sniper. But then his eyes turn to you in confusion and says, “He’s a policeman.”

Your cadre collectively freeze beside you as you narrow your eyes at him. “What makes you say that?” you ask Eren carefully.

Though he wore no police uniform while he attempted to assassinate you, Eren is right. The hitman, Floch Forster, is undoubtedly a cop — along with the other two men Mikasa killed. She had collected their police badges when she’d been through with them and shown them to you as proof. It was why you had sent out Sasha to find out more information on Eren. To be certain he had no ties with them. But when Sasha located where Eren had been staying and done a quick search of his lodging for anything that could implicate him to any police unit or other possible enemy of yours, she had come out empty, save for his form of identification, which was of no use to you either since anyone in your line of business could easily forge a document to say exactly what it needed to say.

“I’ve seen him at the pub a few times this week,” Eren reveals quickly, noting your interest and wisely seeking to win your approval. “In his uniform,” he then adds, noting Floch’s current attire, “with a blond-haired man — I think he’s the Chief of Police. Erwin Smith?”

You and Levi immediately tense at the name, locking eyes. Erwin has been snooping around your pub? And without any of you knowing?

That bloody bastard.

Ever since he’d gotten close to taking your father down as a rookie nearly a decade ago, he has made it his personal mission to be the one responsible for bringing him in. He’s the only one who’s ever gotten close, and it’s this very fact that’s got him so obsessed. But with the way your father’s influence and empire continues to grow more and more powerful among the politically elite, your father has become more untouchable than ever. Making Erwin and his law enforcement pose more of a nuisance now than a real threat to him.

If Eren is telling the truth, Erwin has become frustratingly aware of this and it’s made him either truly desperate and reckless, or incredibly bold to risk stepping down his high horse and walk amongst the filthy streets of the underworld with the same human trash he so desperately wants to wipe clean from this world.

You chuckle wryly at the thought.

As if you would ever let him walk out of here alive.

Before your cadre can protest, you go behind Eren and cut him free of his bindings. You offer him your gun.

“Kill him,” you say, nodding to Floch. “Take his life and keep yours. This is my bargain.”

“Anya!” Levi chides incredulously, no doubt questioning your sanity for handing over your own hostage a gun he could easily turn around and point to at anyone in the room.

He attempts to make his way over to you, but you raise a hand in his direction to stop him in his tracks. The fiery look he throws at you could burn cities to the ground, but he reluctantly stays put. Albeit, now within a closer range of you.

“Come on, Eren,” you coerce. “Prove to me you are worth saving. Show me where your loyalty lies.”

As if sensing his impending doom, Floch raises his head with whatever strength he has left. His eyes are barely open but they remain trained on Eren, knowing that his fate rests in his hands and waiting to see what he’ll do with such power.

But Eren shakes his head, lips trembling and eyes lined with tears. “I can’t.”

You note his fists clutched tightly in front of him. His face, twisted in visible pain. And you know, what you’re doing to him here, is doing more damage than any physical torture you could have ever inflicted upon him.

“Take the gun, Eren,” you command sharply, shoving it in front of him. “Shoot him.”

Eren turns his head away, refusing to even look at the gun, let alone the man across from him who’s waiting with death at his doorstep.

You sigh heavily at his pathetically heroic and selfless resolve. He doesn’t have it in him, as you knew he didn’t. So you do it for him, the sound of the gunshot echoing across the room like lightning.

Eren involuntarily flinches and draws back, the only one surprised by your impulsivity as Floch’s body collapses on the floor with a thud, a bullet straight to his brain.

Eren looks on in shock at the dead man you’ve left in front of him. He had been within close range for Floch’s blood to jump back at him and he raises a shaking hand to his face, having felt the drops land on his face. He looks back in horror at the blood he finds there, staining his fingers red.

Your cadre shift around Eren warily. He looks like he’s about to be sick, but you spare him no sympathy. You snatch your coat back from Historia and drop it in his lap for him to drape over his bare shoulders since you ripped his shirt open earlier trying to take it off him. He may not be a killer, but you had other uses for him.

He blinks a few times at the coat in his lap before his bleak expression slowly rises to meet yours. But he finds no solace there. Your siren eyes remain as cold and distant as ever.

“A vacancy has just been opened,” you inform him with eerie calmness, “and you’re going to fill it.”

—

A few hours later you’re massaging the back of your neck with your hand as you make your way up the stairs to your room.

You’re ready for this day to be over. Getting told off for today’s incident by your father was truly the cherry on top to this cursed day. You're imagining yourself wrapped up in the comfort of your bed, ready for sleep to take you as you feel the weight of exhaustion overpower your senses. But when you reach the top of the stairs, any hope for this day to meet its end immediately gets thwarted.

Levi stands waiting for you against the wall next to the door to your room looking aloof, his arms crossed over his chest. He still wears his tailored suit, but he carries no visible weapons, and though he appears calm, you can tell he’s every bit upset.

You let out a heavy sigh, sensing where this is going.

He’s usually never home at night, always out either patrolling or running some late night errand for your father since his insomnia doesn't allow him much rest. But if he’s been waiting here patiently for you to finish speaking with your father, that dull gaze in his eyes is more alight than he's leading on.

“If you're here to give me more grief about today, then just go,” you say, walking past him to open the door to your room. “I’ve heard enough from my father already. I don’t need to hear any more from you.”

But he follows you inside as if you’ve said nothing at all, feeling him glowering behind you as you turn on the lights.

“You let your guard down,” he tells you reproachfully, closing the door behind him as you commence to strip yourself free of your blood speckled shirt — your gun and holster already chucked at your bedside table.

You deliberately ignore his comment and inspect the blood stains on your button up shirt more closely before discarding it altogether. Another high quality shirt, wasted.

“How do you keep your clothes free from all the goddamn blood?” you ask him, glancing over at his top rather enviously as you pull out a clean shirt from your drawers to put on. “Your shirts are always so white and pristine.”

But then your eyes wander up to his face and you falter. Levi is staring at you with a level of pain and fear you had not seen him display to you before so openly. It startles you.

His voice is thick with emotion. “Just because you don’t fear dying, doesn’t mean you can’t be killed.”

Your eyes instantly soften and you find yourself overwhelmed with the need to comfort him. Cutting the space between him, you raise a hand to cup his face and caress his cheek while your other hand rests firmly against his chest. He leans against your touch lovingly, not caring that your hands are scarred with murder when his are just as equally marred. The sight of him like this, so soft and vulnerable, reminds you of the smiling, playful boy from all those years ago. The boy you first fell in love with, before either of you had ever known of grief and heartache and treachery.

He’s so close, his familiar leather and earthy scent floods your senses. “I have no intention of dying,” you tell him gently in reassurance, thinking of Erwin Smith and the bullet you carry with his name on it in the top inner corner of your coat. “Not anytime soon, anyway.”

He frowns. Your choice of words do little to console him. You know his opinion over this matter, but his eyes flicker down to your lips with longing, and you know he doesn’t want to waste time fighting.

And, truthfully, neither do you.

You lean in to bring your mouth to his and his eyes instantly close. You feel his body grow still at your touch, as if allowing you to do with him what you will, but you refuse to let him submit to you so easily.

You keep your kiss brief and chaste, feeling only his soft, warm lips against yours before breaking away to take in his expression.

When he feels you draw away, his eyelids slowly open, looking dazed. His grey eyes meet yours and you smile wickedly at the glint of desire you find there. He realizes you’re teasing him, but he doesn't seem to care. Your taste is on his lips and you’ve left him craving for more.

Knowing what you want from him, he pulls you in and claims your mouth, hard. Almost angrily. The force of it pushes you back but he quickly hooks an arm around your waist to keep you pressed to him, needing you close. His other hand slips into your hair, holding the back of your head to keep you near as he moves his mouth against yours with a lavishing hunger that only your lips can satisfy.

But then he breaks away, and you almost scold him for stopping so soon, until you realize you’re both in desperate need of air. He remains close enough for his heated breath to mingle with yours, but as soon as his chest slows its accelerated breathing, his mouth is quick to find yours again.

Except this time, his lips brush against yours most delicately, and his pace slows, as if taking his time salvaging your taste, and you hate how easily he can restrain himself.

You ache for more, but he’s already pulled away, moving his hands to cup your face and rest his forehead against yours. Your disappointment is plain to see and you reach for the collar on his shirt, wanting to pull him in again, but then you notice the way his eyes close, his expression growing pained, and you stop yourself.

His brows knit together. “You terrify me, you know that?” he admits in a low voice. “I never know what you're thinking.” His eyes snap open and never ending storms rage back at you. “If something had happened to you today—” His breath hitches, as if just the thought itself was unbearable, and he takes you in his arms without warning, embracing you tightly in his hold.

You instinctively tense, taken aback by his behavior, but he's too caught up in his own emotions to notice. His head rests in the nook of your neck, seeking your warmth and comfort, and you hesitate briefly before you slowly start to wrap your arms around him, caressing the back of his head in a soothing manner absentmindedly.

You don’t understand why he’s so triggered. You and him have been dancing with death ever since that day as children. To cower away from it now is senseless. But, perhaps, it’s as he’s said. You're so obsessed with the need to destroy your enemies, you act without any consideration for your life — for what your death might do to those closest to you; to what it might do to him.

If only that girl from before was here in your place. She would have never need to be so cruel.

You begin to pull away. “You Ackerman’s are so easily riled.”

The grated tone in your voice startles him, and you feel his grip on you loosen. It’s enough to set you free, and you try not to shiver at his lack of warmth as you carefully avoid his gaze and move to your bedside table to empty the rest of your pockets.

“If you and Mikasa had your way, I’d be sitting at home in the countryside enjoying an afternoon tea while my mother’s blood soaks through the ground at my feet.”

“Don’t,” he snaps at you in warning, feeling the intensity of his scowl from where you’ve left him standing. The last thing he wants is to be reminded of that day tonight, but the thought of almost losing you today is weighing him down and his last words turn pleading. “Just don’t.”

The remaining of your weapons land carelessly on the table with a sharp thunk. “Then don’t come to me demanding I let such injustices go unpunished,” you counter back.

He turns to leave, bitter but resigned. “I wouldn't have to if you weren’t so willing to destroy yourself to get there.”

A flash of rage burns through you at his words, lighting you up like a match. Swiping the closest of your blades from your bedside table, you lunge for him.

Instinct kicks in for the both of you and you’re brought back to the days you used to train together as children, always pitted against each other because no one else ever stood a chance. He’s seen you coming and easily dodges your swings. Were you actually trying to hurt him, your moves would be more calculated and precise, but your attacks are hinged with emotion. They’re wild and messy and he takes no time to secure locking your wrists in his hands. He forces you to drop the blade to the floor before swiftly turning you around, trapping you in his arms with your back to his chest.

This only makes you growl with fury. You refuse to be caged. To be controlled and overpowered. By him, by anyone.

Mercilessly, you take a jab at his side with your elbow. He eases his grip slightly at the blow and you hook your foot behind his leg to flip him over on his back. He groans at the impact as you fall down with him, but you’ve landed next to your blade. You don’t hesitate to reach for it. To drive it to his throat.

He catches your fists just before the sharp edge of your knife can make contact, a brief look of surprise crossing his face before it twists in an effort to keep you from pressing your blade further down. You’re positioned right over him, giving you the edge as you dig your feet with clenched teeth onto the ground to steel your weight against him.

But it’s the way he’s looking at you, with this sad look in his eyes that reminds you too much of the boy from that day, the boy who had lost what he’d held most dearly, and your grip on the blade weakens.

Sensing this, Levi pries the blade from your hands and tosses it aside, but you hardly react. Your brows draw together and your next words come out choked and pained. “You would betray me?”

His eyes widen in alarm at your accusation. He reaches for you as you begin to pull away.

“Anya—”

You snatch your wrist away and crawl further away from him, appalled. You were angry and hurt before, expressing yourself in the only way you knew how. But the anger has passed. Now there’s only hurt.

“They took everything from us that day.” Images of blood-speckled bellflowers invade your mind. “No child that young should ever have to know that kind of suffering.” You glare at him from across the room. “How can you so easily turn your back on something like that? You of all people!”

His back rests against the side of your bed as he meets your gaze with eyes hard as steel. “If you really think me capable of that,” he says in a deep, guttural voice, “than you don’t know me at all.”

You laugh wryly as you recall muttering those same words to his cousin just earlier that day. But his eyes mirror yours well, and you rest assured. The fire is still there. Burning and raging with the need for relentless retribution.

“Then why hesitate?” you demand, exasperated. “I would gladly cast aside my humanity if it meant destroying them all. Can you not say the same?”

“My humanity, I would. I already have. What I will not sacrifice is you.”

An indecipherable look passes through your eyes then before you expression turns sour. You rise to your feet.

“You have grown soft,” you spit out in contempt as he remains sitting on the floor by the side of your bed, watching you approach, too tired and defeated to bother standing up. “Weak.”

But his expression remains blank despite your insults, keeping his gaze leveled to the floor in front of him as you reach him.

“Our life has always been a gamble against those threatening to take it from us,” you say standing over him, “and we cannot win by playing it safe.” You move to walk past him. “If you are not with me, then you are against me.”

A scowl appears over his features and he snatches your wrist before you can take another step, keeping you planted beside him. “Don’t do that. I am on your side.” His eyes bore into you as he looks up to meet your gaze. “I will die first before betraying you.”

You study him closely. The element of truth in his words is undeniable. You never questioned it. He would fight alongside you until the bitter end, but you can tell the exhaustion is weighing heavily on him. Years of carrying such dark emotions so close to your heart can do that to a soul.

You feel it too.

Yet you yank your wrist free. “Then do not concern yourself with my safety now. I trust your strength enough to know it will bring you back home every night. So do the same for me. If you cannot rely on that to keep me alive,” you say, turning away, “trust my rage.”

You leave him sitting there as you pull back the sheets from your bed and climb in.

“Kill the lights on your way out.”

Not wanting to see the expression written on his face at your cold dismissal, you lay on your side with your back to him and wait for him to leave.

For a brief moment he doesn’t move, as if deliberating with himself whether to obey you and leave, or continue trying to reason with you even when he knows it will render futile. Eventually you hear him rise and start for the door. He turns off the lights as he opens the door to your room. A small pause later, you hear it close.

Your eyes start to shut when you hear his footsteps again and your bed shifts at his weight as he joins you. You start to sit up, glancing at him over your shoulder in the darkness, confused, but he hides his face against your back and presses you down before you can fully turn to him.

“Just stay like this,” he mutters into you, feeling his warmth wrap around you as his strong arms slide around your middle, drawing you close.

The weariness in his voice strikes you with a pang of sorrow, and a lump forms in your throat. You’re suddenly grateful he can’t see the expression on your face as your composure begins to crack. You need to push him away, to assure him of your strength, but his familiar scent clouds your judgement and your willpower dwindles.

You easily give in to him and you melt perfectly in his arms.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel his body grow heavy against you as sleep quickly befalls him and his hold on you loosens. Only then do you carefully turn in his arms to face him.

The moonlight shines brightly through your curtains, illuminating his face, and you gaze down at him with unveiled fondness. He’s positioned at a lower angle, with his head near your chest and you reach a delicate hand out to move the front locks of his hair that have fallen over the dark circles under his eyes. It’s hard to believe this boy tucked safely in your arms has a higher body count than anyone in House Ymir. Including yourself.

He looks so at ease and peaceful that you take your time admiring his features. You don’t get to see him like this very often, looking so mortal and human. He couldn’t afford it. You couldn’t afford it. To have survived this long, you both had to set yourselves apart from all the rest. If you were ever to incite fear into the hearts of your enemies, they had to believe your dangerous skillsets and inhuman strength and stamina was unnatural; that there was a chance you weren’t even quite human. To let down your guard, to allow them to think of you as their equal, was to risk appearing meek and vulnerable. And you could not allow this. No one, absolutely no one, could ever know that your source of immortality did not stem from god-like divinity, but rather pure, undiluted human rage.

Your fingers caress his soft cheek tenderly before moving up to trace the small, faint scar on the side of his forehead. A scar that never fully healed from when he tried to protect you that day from the invaders, and a sudden tightness wells up in your chest at the memory. You cradle his head closely in your arms.

The boy is just as scarred as you, if not more.

You lost your mother that day because of the men with badges, and your father was cornered and ambushed. But it was the Ackerman family who had been betrayed and slaughtered by one of their own. Kenny Ackerman — Levi’s uncle, his mother’s brother — had sided against his own clan and allied with Erwin Smith.

In exchange for having his crimes pardoned and obtaining a powerful relation with the Crown so he could live his life lavishly, Kenny promised to deliver Erwin not only your father, but the Ackerman’s as well. And for a young and ambitious man like Erwin, the opportunity of taking down two of the deadliest crime gangs of Paradis with one stone was worth complying to one crooked man’s demands.

Serving as Erwin’s informant, Kenny told Erwin of when and where he would be able to move in on your father during one of his business deals with Levi’s father—a calculated move that would put both crime bosses in a compromising position and with enough evidence on them to have them rot in prison for the rest of their lives.

Were it not for your father’s growing suspicion of Kenny, Erwin might have succeeded. Yet the moment the Ackerman clan realized it was Kenny who had led the attack, the Ackerman’s did not hesitate to go after their blood-traitor. They’d rushed forward as the first line of defense, lethally armed with equal amounts of weapons and fury. But no one had expected the number of police squads Kenny and Erwin had armed and ready for them, and it cost the Ackerman’s not only more than half of their men, but Levi’s mother and father as well.

If the rest of your father’s men hadn’t arrived in time to back them up to help him escape with you and Levi, perhaps the Ymir clan would have suffered the same fate.

And without a leader to hold them together, the remaining members of the Ackerman clan were left weak and vulnerable and open for attack from enemy gangs. Levi— being the only son and heir to the Ackerman gang — was too young to take up the mantle, but your father and Levi’s family had always been good friends of the family. And if it hadn’t been for the Ackerman’s, neither him or you or Levi would have made it out alive. So to honor the memory of Levi’s parents and protect their remaining clan, your father made the union between you and Levi known to everyone in the underworld. The marriage itself would take place when you and Levi came of age, but by setting the union in place, your father had made it clear that any enemy of the Ackerman clan was now, by association, an enemy of House Ymir.

This won over the Ackerman’s loyalty to your father, and allowed your father to end up taking Levi under his wing, looking after him like his own son.

But Levi was not the same after his mother died. And you hate what it did to him. What it did to you both. They didn’t just take the people you both loved most in the world; what happened that day altered your entire lives.

Just a few months prior, when things had begun to get too close to home, your father had promised your mother he would leave his business in the underworld behind. That he would do one last job and then he would settle down and live a quiet life with you and your mother somewhere far away in the countryside.

Your father was an ambitious man. He had built his way up from nothing, and he was going to walk away from it all, for you. For your mother. But then they went on and killed her, taking along with her your father’s tender heart and the only chance of a normal, happy life for you as your father let himself succumb to the darkness.

You comb your fingers through Levi’s soft, raven hair lovingly. Levi was meant to come with you. Him and his mother. Even if Levi’s father opposed it, Levi and his mother would leave that world behind with you. But you had been robbed of that life before it ever had the chance to take flight, and so it seemed only fair you rid them of theirs in return.

You embrace Levi protectively in your arms as your eyes grow heavy with sleep. Your resolve, firm. You were coming for all the monsters that had hurt him. All the monsters with human faces that had stolen his laughter, his smile, his chance at happiness.

If you had to darken your soul to do it, then so be it. You would carry the burden of those sins for the both of you. Levi had suffered enough. You would keep moving forward.

Just as you feel your body give in to exhaust, Levi begins to stir in your arms before gently slipping away.

When you force your eyes open again, you find him hunched over on the side of your bed with his back to you. The small movement of his head as he glances over his shoulder tells you he’s sensed you’re awake, but he utters no words.

You look to him miserably. His insomnia is getting worse. He had slept not even an hour before he was forced awake again. You can only begin to imagine the nightmares that plague his dreams.

You then notice he’s got something in his hands. You catch a glimpse of it and realize it’s Eren’s identification papers. It was one of the many things you’d cleared out from your pockets and dumped on your bedside table.

“He’s supposed to be our age,” you mutter groggily, recalling the date of birth inscribed on it. “Yet he carries the innocence of a child.” And despite your fatigue, the resentment in your eyes shines brightly in the dark. “Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

Levi makes no comment as he tosses the document back on the table and stands up to leave. He reaches the other side of the room, but lingers by the door.

“You aren’t doing him any kindness,” he tells you quietly, “keeping him alive.”

Eren’s tortured expression cuts through your mind as you think of the state you left him in.

Levi hates dealing with unnecessary violence. It’s why he’d attempted to take Eren out of the picture when he knew what you were planning to do with him. By keeping Eren alive, you were condemning him to a life of crime — you were corrupting his soul. To force him to live a life he was unsuited for, a life he did not have the mindset to endure … only endless torment and suffering awaited him.

Death was the most favorable choice in lieu of this life, and Levi thinks you spared Eren because you didn’t have the heart to kill an innocent man. If that were true, there might have been some hope for you yet. But you’re not looking to escape your darkness anymore; you’ve learned to love yourself there.

Your eyes flutter shut as you curl up in a ball under your sheets, darkness enveloping your vision. “Whoever said I was kind?”

[deputyash]

(I genuinely can’t remember if I already sent you any for this one so if I did, you can ignore this lol). 1,2,3,4 and 9 for the thematic asks for Dove?

Thanks for sending some! :3

1. What is the main color associated with them? What connections with that color do they share?

I have three main colors that I associate with Dove: Warm Yellow, Steel Blue, and Rose Gold/Blush/Dusty Rose (idk how to describe it exactly haha). 

The yellow because it's warm, vibrant, and cheerful like Dove. The Steel Blue because she looks good in the color and it could also have undertone meanings of longing/sorrow/her connection to John, and also strength (mostly cause of the steel/metal aspect). Lastly, the Dusty Rose color because it's soft and elegant like Dove, and also it's reminiscent of sand so it calls in some of her Texas origins in a way.

Also, here's the color palette I made for her on a website :D

2. Drawing from the language of flowers, what flower would symbolize them?

Guess who couldn’t choose just one flower? That’s right, me lol. Have a list of flowers that I feel represent Dove as a whole instead. :)

abatina - fickleness (Top, Middle-Right; yellow)

amaryllis - timidity; pride  (Right, Lower-Middle; red-orange)

calycanthus - compassion; benevolence (Top Right; dark red)

crocus - cheerfulness (Bottom, Middle-Right; blue-purple)

love-lies-bleeding - hopeless, not heartless (Top Left; red)

magnolia - love of nature (Bottom, Middle-Left; white-pink)

persimmon - bury me amid nature's beauties (Top, Middle-Left; orange)

pink camellia - longing for you (Middle; pink)

ragged robin - wit (Right, Upper-Middle; bright pink)

thrift - sympathy (Bottom Right; hot pink)

white zinnia - goodness (Left, Lower-Middle; white)

wild plum tree - independence (Left, Upper-Middle; purple-green)

variegated tulip - beautiful eyes (Bottom Left; orange-yellow-red)

3. What real life animal would they be represented by?

I went pretty obvious with my animal symbolism haha. I associate Dove with doves, specifically Mourning Doves. They’re pretty and soft, but also have an edge of sorrow and longing to them, which is perfect for Dovie haha

4. What mythical creature would they be represented by?

Angels because of their duality. They can be sweet, kind guardians or they could be bringers of destruction depending on the context. This is how I try to portray Dove as well, a mixture of gentleness but also willing to get her hands dirty if needed. 

9. Which of the seven deadly sins are they associated with? Is it a negative trait of theirs or something they actively struggle with?

I always struggle with this one for some reason. I’m always stuck between three different ones (Envy, Sloth, Pride), not because they all fit perfectly, but because they all only partially fit haha. But for the sake of this ask I’m going to say Sloth is Dove’s sin, otherwise this is gonna be a huge answer lol.

I say this because in her main storyline (and some of her AUs as well) she doesn’t really feel that strongly about things. She feels like she’s just wandering through life and isn’t really living how she wants. She doesn’t really care about her jobs since they don’t interest her at all. (I should say that she does still do them, in fact, she probably overworks herself because of her need to impress/live up to her parents’ expectations. She just secretly hates it and isn’t actually engaged in her work despite doing it well.) She’s also prone to burnout because of this. If she feels overwhelmed, she starts to disengage and wants to go be alone again. (This is why I say it only partially fits btw. She doesn’t have her heart in it, but she still does it.)

On a lighter note hah, she is also easily convinced to sleep in late and just lazing around in bed/at home with her significant other. Also I love the irony of John supposedly being Sloth, but is actually Wrath while Dove is supposedly Wrath, but is actually Sloth. :P

[wobblewokgaming]

i want the jojo yokai watch au lore

I'm still working on it rn, but (as you may already know), it takes place in the Steel Ball Run universe. Nate is the Great Great Great Nephew of Iulius Caesar "Gyro" Zeppeli and gains access to the Spin, along with information about the Saint's Corpse after coming into contact with one of the Steel Balls Gyro used, which was full of Gyro's life essence (this is directly inspired by how members of the Zeppeli Family would transfer their powers to a worthy successor). Nate gained access to this ability about a week before his 12th Birthday and on his 12th Birthday, something bad happens to Nate (it shall be kept a secret rn), causing him to be hospitalized and requiring surgery.

Fast-forwarding around seven years since he turned 12, Nate is now 19 and has been training with his Spin ability frequently. Then, one day, he stumbles upon two individuals discussing about said Saint's Corpse and a map that can be used to track it down. Nate knows this is bad, so he goes to his friends, tells them what's going on and they all collectively agree that they need to stop this devious plot from unfolding. That's all I can say right now for the story, but I can tell you some more about Nate's group.

Nate does not have a Stand, but he has a prosthetic eye made by Yopple Inc. that allows him to see both Yo-kai and Stands. The rest of his group (Katie, Eddie, Bear, Hailey and later on, Buck) have Stands, and they are, in order;

Katie's Stand; You Shook Me All Night Long (localized, You Soothe Me All Night Long)

Eddie's Stand; Weird Science (localized, Odd Science)

Bear's Stand; Mississippi Queen (localized, Magnolia Queen)

Hailey's Stand; Space Oddity (localized, Galactic Oddity)

Buck's Stand; Wild, Wild West (localized, Rowdy, Rowdy West)

As for what they look like and what their abilities are? You'll have to be a bit patient for when I finish the drawings.

[dunbonnets]

a COMPLETE MASTERLIST of all the fanfiction original characters created by DUNBONNETS, what fandom/fanfiction/series they belong to, their ships, and where you can find edits specifically made for them.

sonja smith from of dreams and freedom, an attack on titan fanfic. ( armin arlert ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

sayuri kameda from gilded lily, a demon slayer fanfic. ( giyuu tomioka ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

misaki kobayashi from blood red sun, a demon slayer fanfic. ( tanjiro kamado ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

brian randall-fraser from deep heart's core // the sands of time saga, an outlander fanfic series. ( oc pairing ) ✶ character tag. ship tag. ship tag.

reiko matsuda from until i found you, a demon slayer fanfic. ( inosuke hashibira ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

vetra stormont from weather the storm, a black clover fanfic. ( finral roulacase ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

reva nebbia from electric love, a black clover fanfic. ( luck voltia ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

moira hawethorne from deep heart's core // the sands of time saga, an outlander fanfic series. ( oc pairing ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

katherine johanson from deep heart's core // the sands of time saga, an outlander fanfic series. ( oc pairing ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

marjorie graham from where the heart is, an outlander fanfic. ( fergus fraser ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

lady juliette lockhart from steel magnolia // love is a garden series, a bridgerton fanfic series. ( anthony bridgerton ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

lord ambrose bridgerton from paper rings // a series of love stories, a bridgerton fanfic series. ( oc pairing ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

lady clara whittemore from paper rings // a series of love stories, a bridgerton fanfic series ( oc pairing ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

zakaria zatara from mystical bond // the divine justice saga, a young justice fanfic series. ( conner kent ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

zeppelin zatara from mystical bond // the divine justice saga, a young justice fanfic series. ( cassandra sandsmark ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

giovanna zatara from mystical bond // the divine justice saga, a young justice fanfic series. ( oc pairing ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

spencer barnes from follow your arrow // the divine justice saga, a young justice fanfic series. ( artemis crock ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

virginia adler from out of time // the earth-5871 series, an mcu fanfic series. ( steve rogers ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

astrea voss from infinite galaxies // the earth-5871 series, an mcu fanfic series. ( peter quill ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

viper/madame hydra from viper // the earth-5871 series, an mcu fanfic series. ( tony stark ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

edwina brock from symbiosis // the earth-5871 series, an mcu fanfic series. ( hope van dyne ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

ares from catch the wind // the earth-5871 series, an mcu fanfic series. ( sersi ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

alan milne/christopher robin from the weight of us // the heart of a hero series, a once upon a time fanfic series ( emma swan ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

princess gilrien from ephemeral // the maidens of middle-earth saga, a the rings of power fanfic. ( elrond ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

lenore gilbert from broken wings // the bloodlines saga, a the vampire diaries universe fanfic series. ( stefan salvatore ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

erika mikaelson from cursed, a the vampire diaries universe fanfic. ( elijah mikaelson ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

calliope gomez from my bloody valentine, a post-teen wolf au fanfic. ( stiles stilinski ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

maris navarro from siren song // the monsters & myths saga, a teen wolf fanfic series. ( scott mccall ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

keelie kepner from bad moon rising // the children of the moon series, a teen wolf fanfic series. ( stiles stilinski ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

sophie torres-kepp from somewhere only we know, an the umbrella academy fanfic. ( diego hargreeves ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

anita levine from no time to die, a mission impossible fanfic. ( ethan hunt ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

maude fletcher from genesis, an inception fanfic. ( eames ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

jean abbott from downward spiral, a true detective fanfic. ( rustin cohle ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

freya oleson from dark days, a 30 days of night fanfic. ( eben oleson ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

heather macher from everybody dies // the hereditary horrors series, a scream franchise fanfic series. ( sidney prescott ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

kiara goldstien from die for you // the hereditary horrors series, a scream franchise fanfic series. ( tara carpenter ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

reagan strode from the devil walks amoung us, a halloween franchise fanfic. ( oc pairing, corey cunningham ) ✶ character tag. ship tag.

[mossmanfan]

Fallout AU: Faction Lore.

The Resistance.

“There Is Always Light In The Darkness; Follow The Freedom Trail.”

[I merged most of the factions in Fallout 4 together, mainly the Railroad and The Minutemen, to fit the story of my AU.]

• The Leaders:

Desdemona Harrison. [Railroad Leader.]

Nora Snow. [General of The Minutemen.]

• Nora’s Companions:

Joshua Graham.

Piper Wright.

Yuki Kobayashi.

Robert Joseph Maccready.

Frederick Sinclair.

V̴̝̗̖̖̓̈́ȩ̸͙̟̈́r̸̩̮̉̈́a̴̱̖̟̻̅̓͆̕ ̴͚͚͎̐͒͠K̵̡̀̀e̸̼̼̝̿ŷ̵̲̤͕̈́̔́ȇ̵̩̏͊s̸̹̻̬̔͜.̸̰͇̰̔

Deacon.

Colonel Preston Garvey.

Overseer Valery Barstow.

• Resistance Affiliates/Contacts:

Piper Wright: “The Voice of The People.”

Magnolia.

Mayor John Hancock: “Mayor of Goodneighbour.” [Town based in the East Boston Quarantine Zone.]

Lisa: “The Leader of Haven.” . [Haven is a town, based in the old Starlight Drive-In.]

Charleston, West Virginia. [The city of Charleston, is a very close ally to the Resistance, operatives smuggles escaped synths and refugees to Charleston. The people there have agreed to aid the Resistance any way they can.]

Sanctuary Hills. [A small community, nestled in the northern part of the commonwealth, far out of the Institute’s jurisdiction.]

Overseer Barstow and Vault 88.

Overseer McNamara and Vault 81.

[The Brotherhood of Steel, refuses to work directly with the growing resistance movement, because the leaders of the movement support the liberation of generation three synths. But, Brotherhood supply crates mysteriously show up at Resistance camps and bases.]

[The Enclave, the shadowy remnants of the old world government is spying on the events transpiring in the commonwealth.]

I love resistance stories.

[butmakeitgayblog]

There is a walk to remember au I was reading: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40302309

I personally am on the "wouldn't want to read lexa dying camp" but I think there could be a way to rewrite it without some medical miracle. Perhaps writing it as a disease where there's no cure so technically it is "fatal" and she is "dying" but maybe just that she has to have ongoing treatment and that's why she keeps everyone at arm's length so she doesn't put that burden on anyone else..But Clarke happily takes that on for the end of the story. I don't think it'd be completely crazy for her to even recover from the same disease as the film; I've read and seen so many cases where people are told certain time frames by doctors but they greatly exceed those.

Yeah I'd heard someone had done an AWTR fic, and absolutely zero shade meant of any kind toward that author, but that's just the exact movie down to the T put to Clarke and Lexa. I don't really do that in my adaptations, I just take the main beats of a story and then rewrite it from the ground up. So it would be different from the movie, obviously

That being said 😩

I just feel as though rewriting this to magically save Lexa from Jamie's fate would feel as jarring as if I were to, like, rewrite Steel Magnolias and save Shelby. Ya know? Or to rewrite Sweet November and have her live. Like yes it'd be great and satisfying as a shipper, but it'd be such a deviation from the story that it would render the entire message of everything in the story leading up to the ending moot. It would make the story nonsense

I also wanna point out again I'm not writing this thing guys 😅🥴 I know the majority of people wouldn't be happy with the ending and I know most people would avoid it like the plague to begin with so I'm not even going waste the energy of turning it into a full fledged fic when I am already working on all my other fics. So just think of it like meidwestern au for now ok? Tiny snippets and overviews of scenes only