#Sweet Beginnins Tag

[javitrulovesims]

I was tagged by @cowplant-snacks and boooy this was a hard one!

Sweet Beginnings Tag.

This tag is all about looking at your past. All you need to do is to find one of the first screenshots you ever took (preferably also published), and post it beside the recent one! And tell everybody when you took that first picture! Oh, and don’t forget to tag your posts! #sweet beginnings tag

Ok so... The year 2016, Vampires GP just came out and i made my selfsim at the time having a little photoshoot with some Dia de Los muertos clothes This was my very first post (that i never deleted, i'm sure there were others but i deleted because of cringe)

And

This Picture i made as a Promo for the CURBs retextures i made... honestly? i'm quite happy with my Simming growth. I've learned A LOT on these years and that's all what matters to me

[440mxs-wife]

Mail Order Bride, Part 4: Wedding Night

Pairing: Sheriff!McCoy x Paige Stone (OFC). Other characters: Thomas Morgan (OMC, mentioned)

Word Count: 5155

General warnings:  As the title implies, mail-order bride arrangement, parent’s illness, outlaws, overprotective sister, Wild West-level violence but some fluff as well. Each chapter will have individual warnings as needed.

Chapter warning: Slightly NSFW (16+ only) Paige’s first time, body-image/insecurity, unprotected p in v sex, Leonard is an awesome husband

A/N: This is set around the 1930′s in the Western U.S. I will endeavor to remain as true to the historical timeline as I can. There may be some....bending of history to fit the narrative, but nothing major. This is, after all, a work of fiction. :) Enjoy and please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

A/N 2: This is somewhat of a “filler” chapter, in that it is entirely about the wedding night activities. Now that I’ve crossed this hurdle, the story can get moving once again. But, if you aren’t comfortable with the subject, you can skip it and it won’t detract from the story as I post more chapters.

As always, thank you for reading. Enjoy!

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"Welcome home, Mrs. McCoy," he remarked.

Before entering their home, Leonard had scooped Paige up into his arms to carry her across the threshold. Just as the newlyweds stepped through the doorway, Paige meshed her lips with Leonard's in a passionate, lingering kiss. He could taste the sweetness of the wedding cake they'd consumed earlier in the evening. She detected a hint of the bourbon he'd sipped during the toast to their nuptials.

"Leonard," Paige sighed, and he hummed in response. "Don't you think you oughta put me down now?" she asked.

Leonard pulled back to gaze lovingly at his new wife. "Never, darlin'," he grinned. "I gotcha right where I want ya, and that's here in my arms, always," he smirked as he peppered her face with kisses.

Paige squirmed in his hold, giggling at his playfulness. This side of him was her favorite, the one who smiled the easiest, who wasn't burdened by the gravity and importance of his profession. Although, she wondered which side was in charge of him when he agreed to marry her and take over the contract and send the money to her family. That's a problem for another day, Paige thought. This is my wedding day and wedding night, so I'm going to enjoy it.

Leonard studied the facial expressions as they flitted across his new bride's face. Though he'd only known her for just over a week, he had learned some of her tells. Right now, Leonard was certain she'd had something on her mind, but she'd chosen to dismiss it for the time being. We have a whole lifetime to figure each other out. I only hope I can make her as happy as she's already made me, he thought with a soft smile.

Paige placed her hand alongside her new husband's cheek, gently grazing his face with her thumb. "What're you thinking about, Leonard?" she wondered.

Without breaking eye contact with Paige, Leonard bypassed the question as he pressed a kiss to her palm and heard the hitch in her breathing. "You like that, sugar?" he murmured and watched Paige slowly nod her head. "Trust me, this is only the beginnin'. And I can't wait to kiss your silky skin all over and mark you as mine," he whispered.

Paige let out a shuddering breath at the thought of Leonard seeing the parts of her body she was so used to keeping covered up. Tendrils of doubt began to creep in and threatened to burst the bubble of bliss they were in as they inched closer to the wedding night activities. Will he like what he sees? How does my body look compared to other women, to his ex-wife, Jocelyn? What if he's completely disgusted by my body? These and other thoughts were among the ones raging through her head at the moment.

Leonard sensed a shift in Paige the moment he talked about more intimate matters between them. "Paige? Sweetheart, are you all right?" he asked.

Paige dropped her hand and her gaze from Leonard's face. "I'm fine, Leonard," she replied. "It's been a long but wonderful day. I think it's all catching up with me, that's all," she explained.

Leonard carefully released Paige from his hold and placed her feet on the floor. He hooked his index finger under her chin, tilted it up and held it until Paige's eyes finally met his. "Now, sugar, we may have only been married for a matter of hours, but I can tell somethin's botherin' you. Whatever it is, I promise, you can tell me," he added.

Paige took a deep breath before answering as she tried to stave off the sting of tears. "What if...." she started then looked away, twisting her hands together. Leonard waited patiently for her to continue, which she did after another stabilizing breath. "I know you've been married before, and probably courted others before that, so....what if you don't like what you see? Of me," she finished.

Leonard's heart nearly broke at how small Paige sounded, at the thought that he would ever reject her. If she only knew how many of the past few nights he had laid awake, thinking of her just down the hall. How soft her skin would be under his rough, calloused hands. He couldn't wait to breathe in the scent of her perfume as his lips traced a path, mapping every part of her body. From her lips to her neck, upon her collarbone, right over her heart, across her stomach, down her thighs, all the way to the tips of her toes.

As much as he desired her, craved being close to her in that way, he was determined to let Paige set the pace. If the farthest she wanted to go tonight was to sleep in the same bed and for them to hold each other, then that's what would happen. Leonard's main concern was to make sure Paige felt safe with him. He wanted her to feel secure enough to explore certain avenues of intimacy without fear of rejection.

"Oh my darling wife," Leonard murmured. "You have no idea how utterly enticing you are to me. From your eyes that saw past a gruff, sarcastic sheriff and that light up whenever I enter the room. To your hands that have done so much to make this house a home for us. These same hands are the ones I long to hold and have exploring every inch of me. And your lips....oh, sweetheart, this is where I can't even begin to describe the effect your lips have on me. I can't wait to show you all that I can do to you with my lips. My imagination is running wild thinking of how it will feel when you do the same for me," he remarked.

Paige had been letting Leonard take the lead in their brief courtship, because that's how she was raised, that the man was in charge. Over and over, Leonard proved to her otherwise, with his thoughts on their marriage being more of a partnership. He was the more experienced partner, and yet he was willing to let her control their path to intimacy. Anything that happened was going to do so on her timetable, which gave her a sense of empowerment she'd never had before.

She didn't know if what else she was feeling for Leonard could be called "love" at this point. There was so much more to learn about him, parts she couldn't wait to explore. She was certain that whatever the sentiment, it was considerably more than what she'd felt for that boy back home. Paige had grown up with her former beau, Thomas Morgan, and been friends since they were in grade school. However, in the end, he chose another. Leonard was a loyal, trustworthy, patient and honorable man. And she couldn't help but be physically attracted to him.

Paige rose up on her toes and surged forward, crashing her lips to Leonard's, knocking him half a step back in astonishment. He quickly recovered as his hands instinctively flew to her waist, tugging her body so that it was flush with his. A moan of pleasure escaped from Paige but it was quickly swallowed by Leonard's mouth as his hands roamed up and down her back. Her hands cradled Leonard's neck and her fingertips teased the hairs at the base of his neck, while her thumbs caressed his jawline.

Leonard decided to test the waters with his new wife by deepening the kiss. His tongue darted out to trace the seam of Paige's lips, which caused her to gasp in shock. He took advantage of her surprise and slid his tongue into the wet, heated cavern of her mouth. At first, her tongue was unmoving, almost rigid, but Leonard persisted. When her tongue slipped over into his mouth to explore, a groan of pleasure rumbled through his chest. The sound seemed to have emboldened Paige, because her kisses grew more heated, and her grip on his hair tightened.

As eager as he was to continue, Leonard was bound by his unspoken promise to let Paige lead. He gently pulled his lips from hers and reached up to tenderly cup her cheek with his large, capable hand. At the separation, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Paige's sweet face as she met his eyes. "Leonard? I-is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, I've never--"

Leonard rushed to reassure Paige. "Darlin', you did nothing wrong, not at all. I loved every second of what just happened," he replied softly. "I know I may have given you a little nudge into some new territory, but I gotta tell ya sweet girl--everything about that was perfect," he affirmed. "I only wanted to make sure you were still on board with how things were moving. Are you okay?"

Paige nodded then smiled shyly and her cheeks grew rosy at his praise. Her confidence growing, she slid her hands up the back of his head and around to the brim of his hat. "Do you s'pose maybe we could take this hat off?" she asked breathily. Without waiting for his answer, she lifted the hat from his head and carefully set it in the chair next to her.

When she met with no resistance from Leonard, she took it another step. At the thought that he may want to undress her at some point, she felt a little dampness down below. "Maybe loosen up this tie a little," she suggested. Her fingertips danced across his neck until they were poised beneath his Adam's apple. Paige slowly worked at the knot until it released, then she pulled one end of his tie until it completely slipped out from under his collar.

Leonard marveled at the change he was seeing in Paige after such a short time. He wanted to see how far she would go at undressing him before allowing him to return the favor. He watched as her nimble fingers unbuttoned his jacket next, then her hands blazed a path up his broad chest. When the tips of her nails grazed his peaked nipples, it sent a shudder through his body as he moaned at the sensation.

Paige's eyes flew up to his to check that she didn't hurt him, but the look on Leonard's face showed anything but pain. She wasn't sure what caused his reaction, so instead of taking off his jacket, her hands traveled up his sides, along his rib cage. When they moved back over his nipples again, he groaned louder at the pleasurable sensation.

Realization dawned on Paige that if Leonard was sensitive there, what would it be like when he touched her in the same place? Her breasts were of an average size, nothing she considered remarkable, but larger than Leonard's pecs were. Suddenly, she was aching to find out how it would feel to have his hands on any part of her breasts for any amount of time. The thoughts only added to the wetness in her panties, which she was sure were nearly soaked.

"Not nice to tease, darlin'," Leonard playfully warned. He captured her hands by the wrists and kissed each fingertip, one by one. Then he positioned her palms on his upper chest, just under his jacket and watched as she pushed it off of his shoulders. She caught it behind his back and carefully draped it across the back of the chair where she'd deposited his hat.

"Not teasin', just uncovering you, layer by layer," Paige replied. "Help me with my boots, Len?"

"Of course, sweetheart," he responded. Leonard dropped to his knees in front of his wife and placed Paige's hands on his shoulders. Then he lifted her left foot to remove her boot, repeating the motion for her right foot. Before he stood up, he ran his hands up and down the lower half of her legs eventually, stopping at the knee. His nose was at the same height as her center and when he inhaled deeply, he could smell the sweet scent of her arousal.

"May-maybe we should go to the bedroom?" Paige suggested.

Leonard caught her hands in his. "We can do that, but we don't have to do anything you don't want to do, sugar. If all you want to do tonight is fall asleep in each other's arms, that's all right with me, I promise I won't be upset. I'm not gonna lie though, I've been looking forward to this night all week, but it's about what you want, what you're comfortable with," he affirmed. "I just want to make you feel good, darlin'."

"I do feel good with everything we've done so far, but I know there's more. I feel safe with you. Cherished, respected even. I want....I want you to show me, Leonard. Will you show me more? Please?" she whispered.

Her soft plea was enough for him. Leonard scooped Paige back up into his arms and she wrapped hers around his neck for the short trip from the living room to the bedroom. Once inside, he lowered her feet to the ground so that she stood before him. Her face was turned upward, searching for and was granted eye contact with him. His hand cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb gently stroking her skin. "We can stop any time you want. Any time, no matter what, and I won't be angry. Okay?" he murmured.

Paige nodded. "Words, baby. I need you to tell me you want this," he insisted.

"I want this Leonard, want you," Paige confirmed. "Make me yours," she begged him.

Still holding her hands, Leonard started walking backwards towards the bed, gently tugging Paige with him. When the backs of his legs hit the mattress, he untucked his shirt from his trousers then sat down and released her hands. He bent down so that he could remove his boots and socks.

Paige took a half step back to give him more room, and when he was done, she moved closer to him. She placed her hands on his cheeks and tilted his head up to meet her gaze. Slowly she threaded her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and his eyes drifted closed. She smiled at the hum of contentment emanating from her husband. When he nuzzled his nose into her midsection, she giggled.

Leonard lifted his eyes but rested his chin on her tummy. To Leonard, her laughter was the sweetest sound in the world, one he'd never tire of hearing. Paige's nimble fingers started to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. As his shirt was pushed from his broad shoulders, his eyes drifted to the left side of her dress and the row of buttons concealing the zipper. He kept her gaze until he heard her say, "yes" ever so softly in permission.

Rising to his feet, Leonard pivoted around Paige until he was standing behind her. His right hand settled at her waist, while his left hand glided over her curves to the bottom button. One by one, Leonard worked at unfastening each of the twelve satin-covered buttons. At the top, he slowly and carefully pulled down the zipper, thus loosening the dress that was previously clinging to Paige's curves.

Leonard's hands left her waist and ghosted a path up her sides, cupping the undersides of her breasts. His thumbs gently grazed her already pert nipples. It caused her to nearly double over and drew a cry of ecstasy from her at the unexpected but not unwelcome sensation. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"'M fine, didn't expect that, is all. It was....an amazing feeling," Paige whispered.

"Oh, we're just getting started, sugar. Relax baby, I've got you. Gonna take good care of you," Leonard murmured in the delicate shell of her ear. His hands rubbed up and down Paige's arms, then settled on her shoulders. His thumbs hooked under the lace of her dress and lazily eased it off of her shoulders.

Leonard started leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on the newly exposed surface. He lightly nipped the area where Paige's neck met her collarbone before sucking his mark onto her skin. He softly blew across the moistened area, and was pleased to see the goosebumps that formed on her creamy, delicate flesh. Paige closed her eyes and shuddered at the effect that Leonard's mouth was having on her. "Feels....so good," she rasped.

The dress was pushed further down her arms and over her chest, where Leonard again paused, this time to gently squeeze her breasts. Paige leaned into his touch, and a moan escaped when she felt Leonard's lips on her bare right shoulder. She could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against her backside. Once the dress was past her hips, it dropped to her ankles in a puddle of white lace, leaving her in her white satin slip and undergarments.

Out of instinct, Paige's hands flew up in an effort to cover herself as she turned to face her husband. Leonard lightly shook his head and tugged her arms to uncover her body. "No no, sweet girl, I wanna see all of you, and I want you to see all of me," he remarked. "Besides, you have nothing to be ashamed of, darlin', you're absolutely gorgeous."

Paige took stock of the man she married, standing shirtless in front of her. His muscular, toned chest had a smattering of dark curly hair on his pecs and a trail down the middle to his waist. She could see places where the skin was pink and puckered, indicating an injury as a result of his often dangerous profession. Her fingertips ghosted over the scars and she reverently kissed any she could reach. She felt Leonard shudder in response this time, bringing a smile to her face.

Leonard was in awe of the woman before him, how tenderly she was grazing his skin, and how responsive she was to his touch. Since they had entered what was now their bedroom, he had seen her confidence grow little bits at a time. She let him remove her wedding dress, and at the same time, learn about her body so he knew how to bring her the most pleasure possible.

When his shirt was removed, she didn't turn away from him and wasn't put off by his scars or any other imperfections, real or imagined. Although he didn't know why she felt the need to hide her body from him. His new wife was completely breathtaking and from this moment forward, he intended to worship her in the manner she deserved.

Before he could reach for the spaghetti straps of her satin slip, Paige leisurely slid them down off of her shoulders, one by one. She saw Leonard's eyes darken with desire as he watched the slinky fabric drop from her body to join her dress on the floor. As she reached behind her to unclasp her bra, Leonard caught her hands in his. "Wait. Allow me," he added huskily.

Paige nodded and stepped closer to Leonard. Her arms wound around his neck, while his hands met in the middle of her back to release the clasp for her bra. Leonard drew the straps down her outstretched arms and away from her body, revealing her exquisite breasts. His blood shot due south at the sight of her pink pebbled nipples and couldn't resist taking one in his mouth.

The moment his lips closed around her sensitive peak, Paige threw her head back and closed her eyes in unbridled pleasure. Her breathing came out in short puffs as her mind scrambled to keep up with the new sensations flooding her body. "Oh, Leonard!" she panted.

Leonard released the nipple with an audible pop as he turned his attention to the other breast, lavishing the same treatment. Paige was breathing heavily now, with her head lolled back and her mouth open in absolute ecstasy. The wetness in her panties seemed to have increased tenfold, like there was a waterfall between her legs. "Leonard, please," was all Paige could manage to say.

He disengaged his mouth from her breast, noticing how it glistened with moisture. He blew across the surface, causing the nipple to stiffen once more and a shiver to run through Paige. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart, so responsive," he crooned. Leonard trailed his hands down Paige's ribcage until he reached her waist, where the top seam of her panties rested. He waited until she met his gaze and waited for permission, which she granted with a whispered "yes".

Leonard hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slowly dragged them down her legs. She stepped out of them, placing her hands on Leonard's shoulders to brace herself. As he rose to stand again, Leonard's hands swept up the backs of her calves and thighs. He molded his hands to her backside, then gave a quick swat to one cheek. Paige gasped both in surprise and at the brief sting of pain, then relaxed as it morphed into pleasure.

"Hmm, you like that darlin'? Maybe we can revisit that some other time," Leonard smirked. He gripped Paige's thighs and lifted her, then placed her gently in the middle of the bed. "You are exquisite, and all mine," he added.

"All yours, always," Paige echoed. She reached out with her hand, beckoning him to join her in the bed.

"I'll be right there, sugar. Just have to get m'self ready for you. Now that I can see all of you, I want you to see all of me," he replied softly. Leonard slowly unbuckled his belt and withdrew the leather band from the loops on his trousers. He rolled it up and placed it neatly in his top dresser drawer. He returned to stand at the side of the bed, where Paige was laying on her side, propped up on one elbow.

Without breaking eye contact, Leonard unbuttoned his trousers, then slowly slid the zipper down to reveal his dark blue boxers. He dipped his thumbs inside the waistband of his boxers and pushed them and his pants past his hips, down his legs and dropped them to the floor. He bent down to pick up his trousers and Paige's remaining articles of clothing and draped them over the chair next to his dresser.

When Leonard was about to climb into bed, he was stopped by the perplexed look on his wife's face. "What's wrong, darlin'? You okay?" he asked. His eyes followed her wide-eyed gaze, which had dropped to focus on the situation occurring between his legs. Leonard fought back the urge to chuckle, as it wasn't her fault she was innocent in the ways of marital relations.

"Is....is it....that's not going to fit, Leonard," Paige whispered. She felt like it was all over before it even started, because if her body couldn't accommodate him, then she'd already failed him as his wife.

"Of course it will, sweetheart, but I've got to prepare you," he replied as he knelt on the bed. He nudged her shoulder so that she was laying on her back, with him hovering over her.

Paige reached out with her hand, then glanced up at Leonard. "Can I touch it?" she wondered. Before her fingers could graze any part of him, he caught her hand in his. She quickly retracted her hand and dropped her gaze, fearing she'd done something wrong again.

Leonard at once realized his mistake and gently cupped her cheek. "I'm sorry darlin', you didn't do anything wrong. As good as it would feel for you to touch me there, I'm afraid that if you did, this would all be over before it started," he explained with a grin. "This is your first time, and I want it to be special for you," he added lovingly.

Paige covered his hand still resting on your cheek and pressed a kiss to his palm. "And it will be special, Leonard, because it's you," she remarked. "I'm ready for you to show me," she affirmed.

Leonard bent down and captured Paige's lips with his own, his mouth moving languidly with hers. At the same time, his hand was trailing over her legs, reaching between them to nudge them open. His finger breached her folds, gathering her arousal and spreading it around to prepare her to be able to take him.

Paige gasped at the unexpected intrusion, her hand immediately grasping Leonard's forearm to anchor herself. She rolled and bucked her hips as if by instinct, creating a friction that drove her passion to a higher level. Leonard continued with his ministrations, his thumb grazing her bundle of nerves and nearly sending her into orbit. "Oh, Leonard! Don't stop, please d-don't st-stop....fee-feels good," she babbled.

Leonard's mouth traced a path from Paige's lips to her jawline, then down the valley of her breasts and back to nip the skin at her neck. He inserted one finger into her tight, wet channel, quickly adding a second in a scissor-like motion to work her open. "Oh, baby, you look so beautiful like this, so receptive," he soothed. Seeing his wife's reactions to his caresses furthered his enjoyment as well.

As Leonard's fingers continued to stroke Paige in her most intimate area, she felt an unfamiliar, pressure-like sensation building in her lower body. "Leonard," she moaned. "Some--something's happening--" she panted.

Leonard realized Paige was close to reaching her peak. "Let go, sweetheart. Just relax and let it happen," he assured. He rocked his two fingers in and out of her, then pressed on her sweet spot with his thumb and watched her come apart. Her body writhed beneath him, while her legs shook with the intensity of her first ever orgasm. A series of incoherent babbles fell from her mouth, with Leonard's name dropping from her lips like a prayer.

While Paige was coming down from her high, it felt more like her soul was returning to her body, as if it was floating back to earth. Her breathing was gradually returning to normal, though she shuddered from oversensitivity when Leonard withdrew his hand. "Leonard, that was....it was unbelievable, you were incredible," she remarked breathily. As she looked down, Paige noticed that her husband was still in a state of arousal.

Leonard followed her gaze and reached over to take her hand in his. He rose up on his knees and guided Paige's hand to wrap around his throbbing member. He moved her hand up and down along the shaft, covering her thumb to help spread the moisture leaking from the tip. He relished not only the feeling created by the friction, but from having his wife's hand on his most sensitive part. "Just like that, baby. Ohhh, that feels so good, sweetheart," he whispered as his eyes closed in pleasure.

Paige kept moving her hand up and down, and Leonard soon let go once she got into a rhythm. When she tried to change the angle of her wrist, she twisted her hand as she stroked his velvety steel shaft. " "Darlin'...sugar...baby...angel," he chanted, followed by a drawn-out moan of satisfaction. "Whoa whoa, hold on a minute, sweetheart," he panted. "I want to be inside you," he remarked. "You know, like earlier with my fingers but--"

"With your....?" Paige's eyes dropped to view Leonard's aching manhood. He nodded, then she whispered, "Yes....please."

Leonard wasted no time moving to kneel between her legs, while Paige rolled over onto her back. She held her arms out in acceptance of what was about to happen as well as to embrace her lover, her husband. Paige knew a little more about what to expect based on her earlier experience, and she implicitly trusted Leonard to take care of her.

After lining himself up with her entrance, Leonard began to slowly push forward, inch by glorious inch. He kept his gaze on Paige, checking for any signs of discomfort. With it being her first time, there was a little pain to be expected, but he wanted to make sure there was no more than absolutely necessary.

As Leonard continued to press himself further within her walls, Paige took note of  how full she felt and the slight burn of the stretch as he moved inside her. When he was almost fully sheathed, she felt a pinch of pain, but it soon gave way to a pleasurable sensation. Leonard braced himself above her, an elbow on each side, so he didn't rest all of his weight on Paige.

When he had buried himself to the hilt within her, Leonard began to rock his hips to create a rhythm, which Paige met stroke for stroke. The friction between them elevated their desire for one another and built layers of passion, each one higher than the last. Leonard hooked Paige's legs around his hips, which changed the angle and allowed him to drive even deeper.

Blissful moans and whispers of praise and adoration reverberated filled the room as they edged towards their peaks. It wasn't long before Paige began to feel the pressure building in her lower body, as it did before. "Oh! Leonard--it's--I'm gonna--" she rambled. By now, Paige was clinging to Leonard like a koala, her legs locked behind him at the ankles, still meeting his thrusts.

"Almost there with you, darlin'," he panted as his hips rocked faster and increased the friction. Leonard reached between their bodies to rub circles around her bundle of nerves, which sent Paige tumbling over the edge with a shout of his name. Another few thrusts and he was following her, with spurts of his warm seed painting her velvety walls as he chanted her name.

Still connected, Leonard carefully rolled them over so they were on their sides, facing each other. A blissful smile graced Paige's face, prompting Leonard to wear one as well. They basked in the afterglow, holding each other, waiting for their breathing and heartbeats to return to normal.

Once they did, Leonard carefully eased himself out of her, then padded to the bathroom to clean up, returning with a washcloth to do the same for his wife. He draped the washcloth on the edge of the laundry basket then climbed back into bed with Paige. Leonard lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, his free hand grazing Paige's cheek. "You are so beautiful," he murmured.

"And you are the best and most incredible husband I could ever have asked for," she replied warmly. "I loved every second of today, especially the last part. When can we do that again?" she asked brightly.

Leonard chuckled lightly. "It's going to take me a little time to recover, sweetheart. Besides, I'm a bit tired from everything that went on today. Getting married to you," he grinned, tapping the end of her nose. "Celebrating afterwards with our friends, then carrying you through the door and makin' you mine," he remarked.

"Now that you mention it, I am somewhat tired myself," Paige admitted while trying to stifle a yawn. Her fingers threaded through his hair, then traced a path down the side of his face and came to rest by cradling his neck. She pressed a kiss to the end of his nose. "Goodnight, Leonard," she whispered.

Leonard in turn kissed her forehead, then her cheek before finally capturing her lips with his own. "Goodnight, Mrs. McCoy," he murmured softly.

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Tags:

@marvelouslytrekking @writercole @spacedancer1701 @anna-phora @hlabounty96 @darkestfireee​ @rooweighton​ @phoenixisred​

[javier-djarin]

Christmas Like It Used To Be: Part 1

"Small Town Christmas"

Ship: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  3,308 Words

Warnings: Mild Language

Masterlist

Gif by @mandah-lorian

Summary: You return home just in time for the holidays, but with something else in mind. You and Frankie are reunited after years apart.

A/N: For starters, I could not have done this with out the wonderful @rebelscumlena. Your support and insight on everything is a godsend! I absolutely love working with you!! I hope you all enjoy this Christmas themed Frankie story. It'll be short, but sweet. I promise! Happy Holidays, everyone! If you want to be tagged, please let me know!

Do you remember when we used to feel like The day would never end 'cause we were just beginnin'? Cuttin' down the tree on Mount Holly Road It was you and me, where did the time go? - "Small Town Christmas" by Rob Thomas

“Where’s your brother?” Frankie asked as he shivered on the steps of the gazebo next to you. “It’s freezing out here, and we don’t have all day. The snow’s supposed to start soon.”

You tucked your chin into your scarf to hide your smile. You’d been carrying a torch for Frankie for a while, and so you cherished these little moments you had with him. Your brother, Santiago, ran to grab the three of you some hot chocolate from the café down the street. He asked the two of you to wait while he ran inside. You both knew it was so he could have a few minutes alone with the waitress, Mel. He didn’t want his little sister or best friend there to keep him honest while mercilessly flirting with her. “We’re never going to get our cocoa,” you laughed, “should we just leave him?”

The three of you were headed back to Frankie’s house for board games and a movie marathon, but of course, Santi had to see if Mel had any plans for the evening. Your mind wandered to different ways this could end if Santi ran off with the waitress and you were left alone with Frankie. One fantasy ended with you finding the courage to tell him how you really felt, while he confessed he had the same feelings for you.  You felt Frankie bump your shoulder, and you looked over at him. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” he grinned, easily melting you at the sight, “you just seem so far away.”

“Just wishing my idiot brother would hurry the hell up,” you lied.

He chuckled and leaned back against his arms on the top step. “Can’t stand spending another moment alone with me?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, playfully shoving him. He lightly shoved back before resting against his arms again. Sighing, he let his head roll back, staring up at the sky. You watched him for a minute, relishing in his presence before looking down the street for your brother, willing him to stay at the café. “When did that get there?” you heard Frankie ask.

You turned to see him still staring up. Following his gaze, you saw the mystery in question: a bundle of mistletoe hanging just above the pair of you. Your cheeks flushed, and you shook the idea of what this could mean from your head. He tilted the bill of his hat up and gave you a small smirk. “I guess that means I have to kiss you,” he said.

Your eyes widened for a second before you forced yourself to appear relaxed. “It is tradition,” you said, your nerves causing your voice to shake.

He leaned closer to you with a wider grin. “I would hate to break tradition,” he sighed, leaning in closer.

You felt his hands cup your cheeks as you closed your eyes, his thumbs running over your flushed skin. Slowly, he pulled your face to his as you felt his warm lips graze yours. You couldn’t help yourself as you leaned into his gentle kiss, melting at his touch. The kiss was chaste and too brief for your liking as he pulled away, smiling at you. “Merry Christmas, Hermosa,” he whispered.

You opened your eyes and gazed into his, returning his smile and ignoring Santiago’s shouting off in the distance.

***

You gasped and sat up, letting the paper clips stuck to your cheeks fall to your desk. You blinked several times, allowing yourself a second to gather your wits. You were in your high-rise office pulling another all-nighter. Groaning, you stretched and stood to get the blood circulating again. You opened your door to see your assistant, Phillip, asleep at his desk with a cup of coffee in front of him that had lost its steam long ago. You sighed and walked to the coffee machine in the breakroom, preparing to brew a new pot. You had to finish this report before morning so the account would be closed by Christmas. The fourth quarter partner’s meeting was scheduled for the day after Christmas, and you wanted your presentation to go smoothly.

As you leaned against the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish, you pulled your phone out of your pocket: three missed calls and six text messages. No doubt from Chris, your newest boyfriend. Shit, you thought. The two of you had dinner plans, and you completely forgot. Again. You skipped the messages and went straight to your voicemail to hear his defeated sigh over the phone, followed by a long message:

“I get that your career is important to you, but at what point do you realize your life is worth living for more than a job? I can’t keep doing this,” he said, “don’t bother having your secretary call me. I don’t want to be scheduled onto your calendar, and you won’t have time for what I want out of this relationship. It was fun while it lasted. Goodbye.”

After deleting the message, you slipped your phone back into your pocket and poured another cup of coffee. You let one tear slide down your cheek before drying it on a napkin and returning to your office to finish the report.

***

There was a knock on your door the next morning that drew your attention away from the notes Phillip had left you with your morning messages on them. “Come in,” you said.

Pam Kennedy, your boss, entered with a crisp manilla envelope in her freshly manicured fingers. She let it fall onto your desk with a loud thud. Your eyes widened as you flipped through the one account you’d been begging for all quarter. “Is this the -”

“The Morales-Hamilton Account?” she interrupted, crossing her arms, “It would appear so.”

You gazed at her, simultaneously grateful and confused. “Why?’

“The higher ups considered your application for the Senior Associate position and said if you can close this account by Christmas, the position is yours.”

Your jaw dropped in awe. “Wait,” you said, trying to comprehend, “they want me to get the Morales’ to sell by Christmas? That’s less than two weeks away!”

“You said you grew up there,” she added, clearly annoyed with you, “Use what ties you have there to get them to sell, for as little as possible. Otherwise, you can kiss that little promotion of yours goodbye.”

You looked down at the file again. “Consider it done,” you replied, closing the file, “but I’ll have to work remotely from there. These people aren’t going to do business over the phone or email.”

She sighed. “Fine. But remember, two weeks.” She tapped on the calendar you placed on your desk while giving you a pointed look.

No sooner than she was out of your office, Phillip rushed in grinning. “Are we moving floors?” he asked, sitting in the chair across from you.

You handed him the file. “Not unless I close this account by Christmas,” you said, sounding defeated.

He flipped through it with wide eyes. “This looks…feasible.”

You huffed and reached for the file from his hands. “You don’t know these people,” you said, looking down at the all too familiar names. “They’re not going to sell, especially if we lowball them. This bed and breakfast was owned by his grandparents.”

“Whose?”

You looked up from the papers to Phillip. “What?”

“Whose grandparents?”

“Oh,” you muttered, not realizing you’d said that out loud, “he was my brother’s best friend. His family owns this business we’re trying to bulldoze.”

“But they’re going to be rich when this is all said and done.”

You nodded. “I’ll send you the finished presentation for the Brooks Account when I finish.”

“Oh, I’m coming with you,” he insisted, “you’re not leaving me here with Pamela.”

You laughed. “Fine,” you said, “book two tickets for the earliest flight out.”

***

Frankie slung the bag of salt over his shoulder and walked around to the shed where he’d stored the other two bags. He’d broken a sweat and wiped the beads off his forehead as he leaned against the doorframe, gazing out across the estate. They were at the edge of town with the perfect view of the Colorado Rockies. He took a deep breath, feeling the cool mountain air fill his lungs. He was at peace. After his tours in Afghanistan and losing one of his best friends in Colombia, he was happy to retire to his hometown. The Miller brothers frequently visited, renting rooms at his parents’ bed and breakfast. Santiago returned from his exploits around the world with a girl he’d met in Colombia. It was nice having his brother so close, again. However, home felt off without her presence. She’d moved to New York right after college and became her company’s best contractor, according to Santi. But, since she’d been gone, Woodpine had always felt off.

“Francisco!” he heard Marta, his mother, call from the back of the house.

“Just finished unloading the salt,” he said, walking up the porch stairs. He stooped to kiss her cheek.

She smiled at her son and patted his face. “Santiago called. He said he’s on his way to pick you up.”

He frowned. “Did he say why?”

She shook her head and turned to go back inside. He followed after her, grabbing his wallet and keys off the counter. “I’m sure we’ll be back late, then,” he chuckled.

“Well, don’t forget,” she said, “we have guests checking in early tomorrow morning.”

“I made sure plenty of wood was chopped for the furnace,” he said.

Alejandro, his father walked in, wrapping his arms around his wife’s waist and kissing her cheek. “Dinner smells delicious,” he said, kissing her cheek again before letting her go.

“It’s just about ready to come out of the oven,” she replied.

They heard the front door open. “Catfish!” Santiago called from the living room.

Marta shook her head. “I wish they gave you a different name, Frankie,” she chuckled.

Santi appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Let’s go. Her plane lands in an hour.”

Frankie frowned at him, confused. “What?”

Marta hid her smile, turning to face her husband with a wink. The corners of his mouth twitched, begging to smile. They’d known all day she was coming home, wanting to keep it a surprise from their son.

“Mi hermanita is coming into town,” he explained.

Santi grinned as he watched the shock overcome Frankie’s face. “Why?”

He shrugged, grabbing a marshmallow off the counter and popping it into his mouth. “I guess to visit for the holidays,” he said between chews, “I didn’t ask for specifics when she called.”

Frankie looked at his parents when he heard his mother giggle. “You knew?”

“Isn’t it a nice surprise?” she smiled. “Santi, bring her by once she gets settled.”

“Mom,” Frankie hesitated, trying to not sound overly excited.

She waved her hands at him to silence him. “Get going so she’s not waiting at the airport for you two!” She forced them out of her kitchen, and eventually out of her house. “Give her a big hug for me when you see her!”

Frankie stumbled after Santi, tripping over a cobblestone that lined their walkway. He slid into the passenger seat, glaring at his best friend. “Why aren’t you taking Cecilia?” he asked.

“She’s never met her,” he said, “I don’t want the airport to be their first meeting.”

Santiago threw the car into reverse, turning around. He sped down the road, turning onto the busiest street in Woodpine. It took them through the center of town, past all the little mom and pop shops and restaurants, the Christmas tree lot, and the small gazebo that was still standing after all these years. Christmas decorations covered the town, making it look like something out of a movie. Santi watched Frankie stare at the old fixture, knowing it held a special place in both his best friend’s and sister’s hearts. He smirked and shook his head. “You know, as a kid, I hated the mere idea of the two of you together,” he chuckled.

Frankie glared at him. “Nothing happened,” he said.

“I saw how the two of you would gaze at each other when the other one wasn’t looking.”

He sighed, leaning his head back against the headrest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, hermano.”

Santi rolled his eyes. “Right,” he sighed, “and I actually work for Saint Nick.”

“I’m serious,” Frankie insisted.

“Fine,” Santi replied, turning the radio up louder, “live in denial.”

***

You worked through the entire flight, trying to finish the presentation before you landed. Phillip was formatting the slides while you slapped information on them. The two of you were a well oiled machine as you worked seamlessly to perfect this report. You glanced over at your assistant, shaking your head. He was turning into you: all work, no play. You’d accepted the consequences for all of your mistakes, but you realized the young, impressionable man sitting next to you was following in your footsteps. You’d witnessed him sacrificing plans to stay late and work. Knowing you’d regret this decision, you took a deep breath and closed your laptop. Phillip did a double take before he stopped typing. “What are you doing?” he asked, surprised, “Pam said she wanted this report tomorrow morning.”

You nodded. “I know,” you sighed, “but I just need to take a break.”

He frowned. “I’ve worked for you for five years now,” he continued, “and I have never seen you take a break.”

“Well,” you said, leaning back against the seat, “I am now. And you should, too.”

He shook his head and began furiously working on formatting the presentation. “Tell me, Phillip, are you taking time to see your family on Christmas?”

He chuckled. “I haven’t gone home for Christmas in,” he paused to think about it, “five years.”

You’d kept him from his family for five years, and suddenly the guilt weighed on you. It’d been longer than that since you’d been back to Woodpine. Santi had come to New York a couple of times to visit between mission deployments, but the two of you mostly communicated via email or random telephone calls. You knew he’d met someone after his last mission, but you’d never met her.

Just as your eyes started to close, you heard the ding of the intercom and a flight attendant said, “The Captain has turned on your fasten seatbelt sign. We are preparing to make our descent into Denver. I want to thank you for flying with us and Happy Holidays.”

You sat up straighter and forced Phillip to look at you. “Listen to me,” you said, suddenly turning very cold and serious to the younger man, whom you were sure was your only friend, “under no circumstances is my brother or anyone from Woodpine to know why we are really here. I will break it to them when the time is right. If they ask why you’re here, it’s to finish our presentation before you head home for the holidays. Understand?”

He nodded. “Why don’t you want them to know?”

“I’ve known these people for a long time, Phillip,” you emphasized, “if they know why I’m really here, they won’t sell at all.”

You felt the plane’s wheels bounce off the pavement. Show time, you thought. Phillip grabbed your carry-ons and dutifully followed you off the plane. As you made your way to baggage claim, you felt a pit in your stomach. You weren’t ready for the inevitable reunion. You boarded the escalator, patiently waiting to reach the bottom when your phone rang. Pam. You rolled your eyes and answered. “I just landed.”

You reached the bottom and started walking towards Santi the moment you saw him. “The quarterly meeting has been moved up,” she said.

“What? I haven’t even had the chance to reach out to the family!”

“¡Ay, hermana!” Santi exclaimed, as he ran over to you.

You smiled and waved as you anxiously talked into the phone. You froze when you saw that your brother was not alone. His dark brown eyes found yours in an instant. He was still wearing that same hat that he’d had since you were kids with his brown curls sticking out at the bottom. He gave you a small smirk, and suddenly you felt like you were sixteen again, melting at the sight of him. “Pam -”

“You have until Christmas. They want to meet at 7:00 P.M. on Christmas.”

You gave a frustrated sigh. “Alright. I’ll see you then.” You hung up the phone and wrapped Santi in a big hug. You were happy to see him. Despite alienating yourself from your past, it was good to finally be reunited with your brother again.

“Is Manhattan falling apart in your absence?” he chuckled.

You groaned. “They don’t know how to function without me.”

Frankie stepped forward, his grin having spread to his eyes. “It’s good to see you, Hermosa,” he whispered into your ear as he held you close, “we’ve missed you.”

You held him tighter before letting him go, gazing up into his eyes, and suddenly the weight of what you were there to do hit you. You must have been staring at each other for a while, because Santi cleared his throat to break the tension. “Did I see Phillip with you?”

“Phillip?” Frankie asked. You noted the hint of worry in his eyes.

“My assistant,” you said, your eyes never leaving his. “We have to finish a report,” you continued, turning back to your brother, “he’ll fly back once we are done.”

Soon, you were joined by him as he wheeled both of your suitcases over from the baggage claim. He smiled at Santi, shaking his hand before introducing himself to Frankie. Santi grabbed one of the bags from him and motioned for Phillip to follow him to the car, leaving you alone with Frankie. “It’s good to see you, Hermosa,” he said.

You laughed and looked at your feet. “You already said that.”

He smirked and gazed down at you. “Well, it is,” he said, “it’s been a long time.”

You nodded and lifted your eyes to his. “I know.”

You could feel your heart race the longer you stood next to him, alone. You’d known each other for years, and suddenly, you’d run out of stuff to talk about. “Frankie…”

“It’s okay, Hermosa,” he said, almost like he could read your mind, “you needed to leave. There was nothing for you here.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, kissing the side of your head. His words stung a little, because had he asked you to stay, you would have. You mirrored his gesture, wrapping your arm around him and walking outside to the car where Santi and Phillip were waiting. “I thought the two of you hopped a plane out of here,” Santi chided.

Frankie glared at him, sliding into the backseat with Phillip. “Take us home, Pope,” Frankie said through his teeth.

“Cecilia set up one guest room,” he said, “we didn’t know Phillip…”

“Phillip, you can stay at Marta’s,” you added.

You glanced back at him, watching him slowly nod, as if understanding the hidden meaning behind your order. You saw Frankie deflate a little, but knew it was only logical for you to stay at your brother’s. Your eyes met his, again, and he gave you a weak smile, freezing time. You couldn’t believe that after all this time you were with him again. Phillip cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. “Shouldn’t we get going?”

You turned back around in your seat, slugging Santiago in the shoulder for the smirk on his face. “Let’s go,” you muttered, “idiot.”

“Glad you’re home, Hermanita.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, pulling your phone out of your pocket to continue working on the presentation.

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[cloud9in]

Hazel

Summary: Ava decides that in order to win Hazel’s heart, she’d serenade her outside of her window...in the middle of a snowstorm

Pairing: Ava x Mc (Hazel) (based on the song Hazel by Lloyd) (I recommend listening to it)

Warnings: NONE, just a lot of fluff...and some angst?

Word Count: 2.4k

Permanent Taglist: @samanthadalton @satrinadia I’m also gonna tag some Ava stans: @kamilahsayeet2063 @dopeyouth 

The soles of Ava’s boots softly sink into the powder like snow that had begun plating the ground a few hours ago. It was now midnight. The moon sparkled brightly even through the flurry of snow that poured from the sky. Ava brushes off the thin layer of snowflakes that coated her face, and puffs out a breath of air. She knew that she probably resembled an apple, but that wasn’t the most important thing to think about in the moment.

 The cheerleader stood below Hazel’s window with a black and silver Sony boombox that she borrowed from Mack. Ava had made a mental note to thank her best friend's sister properly, after (hopefully) succeeding with her plan. To be fair, Mackenzie didn’t take it too well when Ava first came to her with the idea.

  ~

 “Why do you want my boombox? There's plenty of ones available for whatever you have planned, which is what by the way?” 

Ava visibly stiffens, her fingers curling into the hem of her plaid skirt as she spoke, “Well...there’s this movie that Hazel and I used to watch...”. Mackenzie rolls her eyes dramatically as she flops onto her bed, “Oh that movie...hm what was it again.” The blue-haired girl strokes her chin thoughtfully before speaking, “oh right ‘Say Anything’.”

 Ava glances at her with a look of surprise, her fingers slowly loosening the hold on her skirt. Mackenzie takes it as a sign to elaborate, “it’s practically all Hazel talks about, she’s drilled it into my brain at this point and now here you are bringing it up again. Can I ever catch a break?” She visibly huffs with a hand over her heart before shooting Ava a wink. An awkward silence sits in the room for a moment until Mackenzie sits up in thought, her eyebrows knitting together before speaking, “I thought you two weren’t on speaking terms?” 

 Ava frowns at her words and turns her head to look down the hall at Hazel’s closed door. “Well...yes we aren’t. But I want to apologize to her in a way that is meaningful for the both of us. I think that...this is the perfect way.” The brunette displays a hopeful grin on her face as she looks in Mackenzie’s direction.

 “...You do know that the whole ‘puppy eyes and please look at my charming smile’ thing does not work on me right? I am not my sister”, Mackenzie deadpans.

 “Huh, so it does work on Hazel”, Ava smiles to herself silently as she makes a plan to tease her best friend about it.

  “As a matter of fact...Hazel seems to drop everything and run to you whenever you use that damn look..”. Mackenzie tilts her head to the side and gives Ava a weird look. 

The brunette tries not to fidget in front of the girl. Mack didn’t know of Ava’s attraction to her big sister, and she wanted to keep it that way for now. Ava didn’t want to picture what Mackenzie’s shovel talk would consist of...the girl could be unpredictable.

 “What happened between you guys anyway?”

 Ava moves her gaze down to the floor, contemplating her answer. She couldn’t tell Mackenzie what really happened after the ski trip...

  But the truth is that Hazel and Ava had gotten closer, sharing their first kiss in her car. The cheerleader had dropped her off that night after practice and before she could stop herself, Hazel was pulled back into the car by her arm, and their lips locked. It felt so perfect...Ava never felt that way when kissing Bayla. Her heart sped up every time she caught a glimpse of the girl's pink hair in the halls. There were moments where Ava had to walk away so she wouldn’t make the mistake of tangling her fingers in Hazel’s hair, burying her perfect lips with her own. The only thing stopping her was Bayla. 

Even after the kiss, Ava couldn’t make the decision to fully leave her girlfriend, not until Hazel was sure she knew what she wanted as well. The brunette refused to ruin her own relationship in fear of her best friend picking someone else in the end. 

The two shared glances occasionally but neither one has spoken to each other after a huge argument one day in the locker room. All of those bottled up emotions had spilled in that moment, but it only left a rift too big to seal up with a simple “I’m sorry”. It seems like the best option would be to sit down and talk it all out, but what teenager is capable of such civility? 

Ava breathes out quietly as her mind starts to cloud with thoughts. Why am I still with her? Hazel is the one I want.... No, need. She couldn’t get neither Hazel nor Bayla out of her head. Is this the way her best friend feels about Mason and Noah? 

 She blinks back to reality after a moment and looks up to see Mackenzie staring at her expectantly. “Um...well it's just some school and girlfriend drama”, Ava says nonchalantly, hoping to convince the blue-haired girl otherwise. It's clear that Mack doesn’t fully believe her, but she drops the topic and walks towards her closet, pulling out the shiny new boombox. She hands it over to Ava but not before staring directly into her eyes, “You break my baby and we’re going to have a problem Lawrence.” The brunette gapes at her for a split second and then nods her head carefully. 

Yeah she definitely didn’t want to hear that shovel talk now.

 ~

 Ava smiles at the little memory as she dusts more snowflakes from her face. She looks up at the grey sky and shields her eyes from the falling snow. The light flurry was beginning to accelerate into a storm and the many layers Ava had on wouldn’t be able to protect her for much longer. She had to get a move on, it was now or never. 

Funny that out of any time of the day, Ava had picked during a snowstorm to confess her love to Hazel. Was it love? Ava knew deep down that she was crazy in love with the girl but didn’t want to scare her away. So instead of saying “I love you, be my girlfriend”, the cheerleader decided that bringing a boombox and blasting an old school love song while serenading Hazel from below her window, in a soon to be blizzard... would be the best idea ever. 

She positioned the boombox onto her shoulders before reaching up to hit the play button, a deep yet melodious beat encompassing the air as the singer hummed sweet words 

I'm beginnin' to see

The more we hang together

Baby girl, I like you

'Cause you're better

Ava’s arms shook intensely but it wasn’t because of the weight of the box. A surge of nervousness had fluttered in her stomach and seeped its way into her bones. Is this stupid? Is she even awake? Will she be angry that I woke her up? The brunette had started to doubt her actions as she stood there.  There was no hint of a silhouette behind the transparent curtains in Hazel’s room, and Ava had almost switched the song off until the lights turned on.

 ~

 Hazel had settled under her thick blankets for the night, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. The fight she had with Ava constantly replayed in her head, but not nearly as much as the kiss did. Hazel still felt the brunette’s lips on hers, the tingling sensation seemed to never go away. She lightly touched her lips and closed her eyes, reliving every touch and feeling Ava had caused that night. Her heart started to beat rapidly, and it was the only thing she could hear before a sudden commotion invaded her thoughts...

 Hey Hazel

I like you

Can't see myself without you

My sweet Hazel

'Cause I think I'm in love (I'm in love)

Hazel’s eyes shot open as she sat up abruptly. Was that my name? She thought to herself as she peered towards the window. Down below she could see a figure standing but the blowing snow made it hard to make out who it was. Hazel steadily slipped out of her covers, immediately wrapping her arms around her abdomen for warmth. She cautiously slipped below the window and squinted her eyes to see the intruder, but to no avail. She couldn’t see who it was, which meant that turning on her bedroom lights was the only option. Hazel sighed to herself before flipping the switch up and creeping back to her spot. What the hell am I doing? She thought again, deciding to stand up and face the man who sang her name shamelessly.

 Except it was no man.

 ...It was Ava

 Hazel does a double take as her jaw drops open at the sight below her. Ava holds a boombox above her head as Lloyd sings his heart out. When the brunette notices Hazel, a gorgeous smile appears on her face, eyes twinkling with delight. They looked like snowflakes themselves and Hazel felt as if she was in trance.

 Ava began to sing along, her voice belting out in the most incredible way possible, as the snow shined heavily behind her. It was the most stunning thing Hazel had ever witnessed.

Can't see myself without you

My sweet Hazel

Girl, I think I'm in love (I'm in love)

She hums the background vocals while never breaking eye contact with the girl above her. It was sensual and Hazel felt her face flood with heat as she covered her mouth. Ava puts the boombox down and points her fingers up at Hazel as she continues the song, whispering her name 

...Hazel

 Hazel...

Lloyd’s vocals croon in the background as the two girls just stare at each other. Ava didn’t fight the urge and allowed herself to sink into the deep pools of honey that were home to Hazel’s face. The light in her room added an extra sparkle to her eyes as she laughed with joy. Hazel was relieved that her dark complexion couldn’t reveal a deep redness that only Ava could cause. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, the cold didn’t bite at her skin anymore. Excitement runs through her veins as she dashes out of her bedroom, down the stairs, out through the front door, and right into Ava’s arms. The cheerleader yelps in surprise as she steadies her hold on Hazel, holding her up midair. She giggles into Hazel’s neck as they hug each other tightly. 

 “Couldn’t resist me eh?”

 Hazel laughs, swatting playfully at Ava’s padded shoulder. She leans in for another hug, enveloping herself in all of the warmth that the brunette provided, despite the chilly air. After a minute of just holding each other, Ava reluctantly pulls away and cups Hazel’s cheek, turning her head to look down at her. “Hazel...I’m really sorry. For everything.”

 The giggles and laughter are put on pause as Ava sets her down. Hazel doesn’t let go of the brunette no matter how much her brain protests to step back. She couldn’t. This is what she desperately craved for ever since she lost her best friend. Now that Ava was back in her arms, Hazel held on tightly, like she feared that history would repeat itself if she let go. This time would be different, this time they were going to talk it out. 

 “Listen Hazel I-”

 She doesn’t let Ava continue, putting a finger against her mouth to shush her.

 “We can talk about it tomorrow..”. Hazel gestures to the white snow blanketing around them, “When we’re not in the middle of a snow storm”, she claims. 

 Ava looks around with her and nods her head in agreement, a small smile playing at her lips. Tomorrow they’d solve this problem, but for now,  Hazel is going to enjoy every last bit of this experience. So many ideas flooded her mind, maybe she’d throw a bunch of snowballs at Ava, or push her into the snow. Maybe she’d just hold her hand and let the snow plummet and build around them.

My sweet Hazel

Girl, I think I'm in love (I'm in love)

She gazes into Ava’s eyes lovingly, pulling her flush against her smaller frame. Hazel watches as small snowflakes trickle down onto the brunette’s rosy cheeks, and leans in to kiss every individual freckle that painted her face. Ava pulls back after a good five kisses and chuckles down at the girl, “you know if you keep that up, we’ll be standing here all night.” 

 Hazel sways gently in her arms, a cheeky smile invading her dark features, “and who says that wasn’t my plan all along…?”

 Ava giggles and swiftly picks up Hazel once more, this time spinning her around in the snowfall. They’re bodies were drenched with the white coating, but they didn’t mind it. Hazel looked up into the sky as she screamed with happiness.

Girl I think I’m in love

I’m in love

I’m in love

Ava peered up at her best friend, the smile on her face looked like a million dollars. She pulls her down into a searing kiss that completely shuts out the blizzard around them. As soon as their lips connected, Ava felt like all was right in the world. She could taste the sweet cherry chapstick that Hazel always wore. God it was even better than last time. 

She gently sucks on Hazel’s lower lip, watching her every gasp and the way her nose scrunches up when she squeezes her eyes shut. God she is so perfect.

 They both eventually pulled back for air, the heat between them seemingly growing hotter and hotter. If they never stopped, the whole neighborhood would be melted of snow. 

 “You know you are my whole world Hazel…” 

 “Just shut up and spin me around again”

The two girls howl with laughter as they collide together in the storm.

...From out of her window, Mackenzie shouts down “KNEW IT!!!”, her fist pumping in the air.

 ...Noah sits on his motorcycle in the storm and watches them kiss, an ache growing in his heart. 

 ...Mason turns back in the direction he came from, refusing to witness the scene before him. The flowers he once held in his hand, now laid peacefully under the blanket of snow.

 ...and Ava’s phone that's lodged into the snow lights up for the third time: 3 missed calls from Bayla.

It rings one more time before going silent.

I’m in love

I’m in love

I’m in love

[vulpinefrost]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟?

The Orange

whether it’s your sweet nature, breakaway cover, or your natural displays of intimacy, you have the undercurrent of the orange. a love language in itself, your nature makes others want to take a bite and enjoy the tang that you leave behind with your laughter. you remind others of a summer day, hot air, long nights, always hopeful you’ll never go away. in her poem “the orange” by wendy cope she said “i peeled it and shared it with robert and dave, they had quarters and i had a half” you’re generous and have much to give. she also said “this is peace and contentment, it’s new” well i say, it’s you.

“Sounds about right, especially that natural displays of intimacy bit in the beginnin’ there”

Tagged by the same as before

same as last, no tags, do as you please

[cuttingstone]

"She will lay his fearful head on her lap and she will pick out the lice from his pelt and perhaps she will put die lice into her mouth and eat them, as he will bid her, as she would do in a savage marriage ceremony."

Angela Carter, The Company of Wolves

"Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide, And mermaid-like a while they bore her up. Which time she chanted snatches of old lauds, As one incapable of her own distress."

Shakespeare, Hamlet

"I don’t hold off death, I celebrate it! Death is a natural part of life but it is not the end by any means. These men, look at them! They are men, they are not children, they know what they are doing, they are all going to an end that they do not understand. I seek to know what lies beyond, to understand what it is that we cannot know! That knowledge is what pushes me forward. I don’t fear death, I-I-I...I love death."

Dref Wormwood, Skyjacks

"The general opinion of the Venetians was that he had three pencils—one of gold, the second of silver and the third of iron."

Jacopo Tintoretto, Self-Portrait c. 1546 / 1588

“Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you, and find nourishment at the very sight of you? Yes. But do you ache for him?”

Hannibal 3x12, The Number of the Beast is 666...

"When St. Peter loses cool and bars the gates / When Atlas acts a man and makes his arms shake / And when the earth is trembling on some new beginnin' / With the same sweet shock of when Adam first came"

Hozier, Be

"The door sat still as a mountain, quiet and indifferent as the sea on a windless day. This was not a door for opening. It was a door for staying closed."

Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

@kissingcannibals tagged me to list some literature/media that live in your head rent-free to the point where you have them memorized (or written down). Thanks <3!!!! I am no thoughts head empty so I had to look them all up lmfao

I tag: @ruakhs​ @hannibalphobic​ @violentsgrace and @s1alanabloom and anyone who wants to do it :3c

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Eight, “Almost There”

Clickable Links: 

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Playlist

- *NEW* Hecky Blurb from The Sex Bucketlist Fic Challenge (currently an extra chapter)

- Becky Character Survey #2 

- Harry Character Survey 

Word Count: 7.4k words

Warnings: None

                                  SNEAKKKKKKKK PEEEEEK

“At moments throughout the day, I could’ve cared less that I was being paid for all of this, because being in Harry’s presence for almost every second was rewarding enough. I got to remember the dark little freckles smattered across his face, the tan ones peppering his nose you can see if you’re close enough, and how utterly happy I feel being around him. He quickly felt like the sun and I was the orbiting planet, constantly around him and hanging onto his every word.”

Music Inspo: Sweet Tooth by Cavetown (click to listen)

P.S. - Talk about the most perfect gif up top of happy lawyer Harry c:

                         “I have a million things to talk to you about. A million things we have to talk about. All I want in this world is you. I want to see you and talk. I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.” - Haruki Murakami

“So, Hare, ya think she’ll like it?”

“I bloody hope so afta all tha cleanin’ and buyin’ new stuff,” I respond with a tired sigh, crossing my arms over my chest, sure there’s still dust clinging to me in places.

“We didn’t do any cleaning, you goon, the cleaning company we employ did,” Myles chuckles, bringing warmth to my cheeks. “I think we did good, though- I reckon you did good, seeing as you did most of the work, mate.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, taking a good look at the office that’s sat unused since the remodel.

“When’s her orientation with you, did you say?”

“This Friday,” I answer him, my hand wandering to my mouth where I bite at my fingernail, inspecting the clean office. Even after all of the work that’s been put into it ever since she was hired, I still doubt myself if Becks will like it. Will she like the desk that I chose, or the Merlot colored sofa against the wall, or the chair that I splurged on? She’s going to be the one spending time in here, not me, and I really want her to like it.

“Have you asked her out on that date yet?” Myles questions, stepping forward to adjust the black modern desk lamp, even though I’m sure she’ll move things around once she steps foot in here. I want her to change it to how she likes, just how she likes. Wait, what did he say?

“My’, what tha fook are ya goin’ on ‘bout?” I chuckle, holding out my hand in question to help me talk.

“What, mate? You’re wasting precious time here, you’ll be thirty in a few weeks. I thought we’d have kids and they’d be best mates by now.”

“Oh, shuddup, thirty isn’t that old, and no, I haven’t asked her out yet.”

“And why’s that? You said you ran into her at the supermarket last weekend, and you met her for dinner and drinks the Friday before. It sounds like you had plenty of opportunities, and once again, you didn’t take them,” he almost groans, opening a box of black pens that he pours into a tall black mug with ‘Styles & Lawson’ written on both the mug and the pens. It was his touch, not mine. I know Becks will hate it, she’ll find it gaudy. “Y’know I don’t care if you lot date, just keep it behind closed doors, is all I ask. Keep it professional.”

“‘s too soon, My. I know ‘s already a lot fer her t’ be startin’ a new job, ‘specially her first official lawyer job. I want her t’ get settled in first befo’ I do anythin’, and overwhelm her mo’. And I know, I wanna do all o’ it right.”

“That’s fair, Hare, but you better hurry up. I was telling Rory about her starting, and when he asked to see a photo, he couldn’t stop talking about how pretty she is,” he comments, breaking the box apart before tossing it in the empty bin, giggling.

“My’, don’t bloody encourage him. Rore’s a prick, tho’, even he knows it. She’d neva go fer him, anyways.”

“Are you gonna tell him how you feel about her then, y’know, so he doesn’t try anything?” Myles continues, walking behind Becks’ ‘Autumn Cherry Mahogany’ desk, pushing in the chair as he does a once over.

“I reckon I should, if tha idiot keeps quiet ‘bout it, which’d be a bloody wonder in itself. Watch him try t’ gimme relationship advice, as if he’s had a girlfriend lately fer longa than two weeks.”

Myles chuckles at that, tapping a pen against the desk barren besides the lamp, pens, a desk calendar, and the phone. I laugh along with him, turning around to glance at the wooden shelves that look rather pathetic with the few law books claiming them, but that’s the last thing on my to do list. I reckon she’ll want to add some of her own, anyways.

“You’re really going to leave the walls empty besides that bloody shelf and clock? It looks sad in here.”

“I told ya ‘m gonna let her pick out some prints, and tha firm will pay fer ‘em. There’s no use in buyin’ sumthin’ that she’ll end up not likin’, My. Oh, and tha rug ‘s s’posed t’ come in t’morrow, as is tha new iMac that one o’ Asher’s blokes will set up,” I repeat with a roll of my eyes, forgetting the books and finding him straightening the violet-colored clock on the wall.

“The firm is paying for it, is that right? Jeepers, Harry, she’s making you all soft again. I can’t complain though, because it means you’re far nicer to me for a change.”

“Shuddup,” I giggle, plucking a new pen from her desk to launch at him. “Ya I dunno, she has tho’ and I don’t really mind it. I guess ‘m used t’ it, but it was hard in tha beginnin’.”

“It’s a good thing, really, I mean it. Oh, by the way, did you let her know she needs to frame her degree to hang up in here? Preferably behind her desk,” he questions, turning to point to the eggshell-colored walls that were painted months ago, the exact shade of all of our offices.

“Thanks fer tha reminda. ‘ll hafta text her ‘bout it, I forgot.”

“Yeah, you can thank me for a good excuse to text her,” he grins, his hands falling from the clock until his attention is captured by something else. “Also, why’d you buy a bloody plant? Does she even like them, or know how to take care of them?”

“I dunno, she mentioned once she likes succulents, and there’s a huge ass window right there t’ give it sun, so ya jus’ need t’ water it,” I snicker, pointing to the floor to ceiling window taking up the wall across from her door, like all of the offices. “‘s some kinda succulent, I can’t rememba. I figured she’d like it, but thanks fer yer bloody vote o’ confidence, Mr. Lawson.”

“You’ll get my ‘bloody vote of confidence’ when you fucking finally ask her out, Hare. ‘s been two years, mate,” he insists, flicking the light off as I step out into the hallway.

“I know, My, ya think I don’t bloody know that?”

“I don’t know, Harry, but y’know how I feel about second chances. They don’t come around again, and you got one, so use it wisely and quickly,” he tells me, wagging a finger at me as he closes the door before walking off.

“I know, but I don’t wanna screw it up,” I whisper in defeat to none other than myself, messing with the silver rose ring on my left hand, just as my eyes pan over to the frosted glass door. At the sight of her full name etched into the door, my heart does a jump, from nerves and excitement. “See ya soon, Becks,” I finish softly, patting her name carved into the glass, a bubbly warmth filling my insides with anticipation.

I dunno how much longer I can wait for her.

+

“Alrighty, then let’s start with’a tour. Follow me right this way, Ms. Holte,” Harry says, leading me out of his office and can I say, giving me a perfect view of his gorgeous bum. Now, that’s one thing that hasn’t changed a bit, I decide silently as I take a quick glance around his office.

“Please stop with the Ms. Holte thing, it’s weird,” I giggle, watching him close his door behind him, and he winks at me.

“What, how come? Yer a lawyer now, Becks, ya gotta be all formal.”

“See, that name sounds much better, doesn’t it?” I tease him, and he shakes his head with a grin.

“I admit it does, but y’know yer gonna hafta decide what ya want people t’ call you. Rebecca, Becky, Ms. Holte, etcetera. But fer formal proceedings, like during cases you’ll be Ms. Holte, so ya betta get used t’ it.”

“Yeah, Ms. Holte isn’t happening if I can help it, it makes me feel old. I’m not a bloody teacher or something,” I remark and he nods his head, his fingers getting lost in his curls as he stops.

“Very true. Well t’ begin our tour, yer familiar with this hallway as it’s tha main one. My office is behind us at tha very end, Myles is down and on tha right as y’know, then Rose’s ‘s on tha left,” he explains by pointing a long finger in different directions, the pink nail polish from last weekend almost entirely gone. I guess Harper needs to give him a touch up, or I could. God, I wish. “Rory’s office ‘s down that way t’ tha right o’ mine, as ‘s Jennings as y’know. Mick’s ‘s down tha way afta his, then Gwen’s, Tate’s, Holly’s, Connor’s- Y’know what, let’s jus’ go and say hi t’ ‘em, I reckon that’ll be easier fer you t’ make sense o’ it all. I was plannin’ t’ introduce ya t’ e’rybody anyways, so we’ll see who’s here t’day and not stuck inn’a case.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” I hum, unsure of how good of a job I’m doing masking my anxiousness, it’s hard to tell.

Evidently, I’m not doing that great of a job, because when Harry looks to his left at me, it’s fair game. “‘s okay, Becks, don’t worry. They’ll all love you too,” he smiles, patting my arm, calming me down and exciting me at the same time with his words and touch.

“God, I’m an open book, aren’t I?”

“Eh, I dunno really. I guess ‘m jus’ good at readin’ ya by now,” he responds with a short wink before stopping in front of another frosted glass door. After a short knock, the door opens and like every other time, I’m amazed by her fiery red hair. “Hey, Rose, ‘m not interruptin’, am I?”

“No, Harry, you’re not,” Rose answers, hanging onto her door, and I watch her eyes pan over to me. “Hi, Becky! I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you, love?”

“I’m good, thanks. How have you been, Rose?”

“Eh, I’ve been better, it’s not easy working for this guy. You should get out while you still can,” she answers teasingly, nodding her head over to Harry.

“Hey, don’t say that! ‘m givin’ her tha tour right now, ya don’t wanna scare her away already, Rose!” he scoffs jokingly, and quickly we’ve left him behind with our laughing that he doesn’t partake in.

“Quiet down, Harry, she’s come back for seconds so she must know how to deal with you by now,” she quips, looking over to me with a blushing smile. Oh, I’m liking it better and better the longer I’m here.

“God, I hope so,” I joke, spending a nervous laugh at the end of my words and so does everybody else, although in a self-deprecating way.

“I’m glad you’re back though, Becky. It’s so great to have you a part of the lawyer team now.”

“Thank you, Rose. I’m really happy to be a part of it too,” I answer shyly, and when I look over to Harry he’s wearing that sunshine smile again that I’d gladly look into, even if it blinded me.

“Thanks fer yer time, Rose, we’ll be movin’ along t’ meet e’rybody else now. There’ll be a formal meetin’ her first day t’ properly introduce e’rybody tho’,” Harry says, patting her on the shoulder before we move on.

We make our way down the hallway, and then soon reunite with Jennings, which wasn’t the best reunion per say after how he treated me at times.

“Don’t worry, I told him he has t’ be on his best behavior ‘round you,” Harry comments with a warm smile, doing a good job at smoothing over any bumps I feel in the road, like he so often does.

A few of the lawyers were gone for the day, including Gwen and Mickey who I’ve yet to hear anything about or meet. I got to meet Holly, Connor, Tate, and Brien who were all very kind. It was nerve wracking, but they were easy to talk to, and it was neat to see their difference in ages, their characters, and their offices. As for those we missed, Harry said I’d meet them the next time when I have my first official day.

“And this ‘s Rory, which requires a bit o’ prep fer meetin’ him, he can be a lot t’ handle sumtimes,” Harry prefaces, stopping in front of the ajar door, but his face falls when he peeks in, saying it’s empty. “‘m not bloody surprised, I can neva find tha idiot when I need him.”

“Looking for me, Harold?” a voice calls, pulling our attention down the hall and towards the lobby. I can almost see where my desk used to be from here, almost.

“Oh, so he can call you Harold, but I can’t?”

“No, neitha can he, he jus’ thinks he’s funny. He’s prolly tryna show off fer you,” he comments, cocking his head to the side as he looks at this Rory fellow questioningly. “Y’know I don’t like bein’ called that, Rore.”

“And what do I care?” Rory replies, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he approaches us, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Ooooo, who is this lovely lass?”

“Rory, this ‘s Ms.- I mean, Becky Holte, ‘ve told you ‘bout our new associate,” Harry explains, pointing his elbow to me as his hands sit in his pockets. Slowly with each new introduction, I’ve noticed Harry resume his professionalism, but it feels stronger whenever he says my name. It’s a little hard to get used to after all of the moments we’ve shared over the last two years, but I know that I’ll have to get used to working with him again, and all that it entails.

“Ah, so this is Becky,” Rory smiles, stepping forward to put out his hand as his eyes flit to Harry. With a confused look on my face, I take it and he shakes my hand with his other covering mine. My eyes race to Harry next with a question, but his are stuck to Rory’s with an annoyed expression. “I’ve heard loads about you, love. Welcome to the firm, we’re all happy to have you here working with us. I know Harry is especially.”

“Um, thank you, Rory. I’m excited to be here.”

He nods before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his gray slacks and sauntering off, loud music soon coming from his office.

“He’s uh, different,” I comment slowly, looking over my shoulder as we walk away.

“Ya, he’s a prat ‘s what he ‘s,” Harry comments quickly, rubbing a knuckle along his hairy chin.

“So, you told your colleagues that you’re happy I’m back?”

“Perhaps,” he shrugs, saying it like he’s not sure of his answer either, but I take it and I run with it. “Perhaps very much so,” he finishes just as his steps cease in front of another closed door. I don’t get the chance to read the name on it, because quickly he’s opening it, and it’s already hard to tear my eyes away from him after he said that. Who do you think you are just saying that kind of stuff and not expecting me to freak out? It gets even worse when he finally meets my eyes with the cheekiest grin sitting there, waiting for me.

“Wow, this is a really nice office. It even smells good, like palo santo or something,” I comment, taking a step into the immaculate looking space. The room is lit up when Harry flips the light switch, bathing the shining desk in light, as well as the wine-colored sofa against the wall to my right. “Look at that view! Dang, whoever’s office this is sure is lucky. They even have a cute little plant on their desk, awe. Whose office is this, anyways? I don’t want to intrude, or anything,” I say, fawning over the cozy room and even how there’s two little tasseled pillows sitting on the sofa. When I bring my eyes back to Harry, he’s leaning against the door frame, arms and legs crossed amongst his tall body. In his eyes sits a tale that I can see he’s itching to tell, a sparkle in his eye.

“Consider yerself lucky, Becks, this ‘s yer new office,” he grins, his cheeks disappearing when the smile almost reaches his ears.

“Shut up!” I exclaim, my hands flying to my mouth as I look at the room in a new light, per say. “I get my own office? I didn’t even think I’d need one, since I’ll always be in yours. Harry, you shouldn’t have!” I sigh happily, hands falling as my eyes start to water.

“‘Course you’ll have yer own office, Becks. I mean ya, you’ll be with me in mine loads, but sumtimes we’re bound t’ get sick o’ each otha,” he says, lifting his crossed arms in a shrug as if they hold words as well. My head falls to the side as I look at him, telling him silently he’s stupid for saying that, and he giggles because he’s just too good at reading me. It’s going to be a long time before I get sick of him again. A very long time. “It’ll happen, I promise ya that. But sumtimes ‘ll be in partner meetings or sumthin’, and ya can do yer research and prep fer tha cases in here. Also, I wanted ya t’ have yer own space since ‘s no fun bein’ stuck in me office starin’ at tha same four walls all day long. And I know ya didn’t really have yer own space befo’ at yer old desk, and ya should’ve,” he completes eloquently, always knowing what to say and how to say it. I hope he can teach me how to do that, because I’m really going to need it. For more than one occasion, and both inside and outside of this firm.

I want to hug him so badly I can’t stand it, because the gratitude and happiness bubbling to the surface yell at me to, and he just looks so cute standing over there so proud of himself. The whole rule about being professional that stuck to me again the second I got off the lift comes back to me, and holds me back from surprising him with a bear hug. Boy, is it hard, and it gets even harder when I don’t see him trying to give me one, either.

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” I almost blurt out, wishing for that eloquent speech trait once again.

“Thanks, bug, I try. ‘m really glad ya like it, really. I have a few sites ya can look at when ya have tha time t’ pick out some prints fer yer walls. Oh, and yer welcome t’ bring in any books ya’d like t’ place on yer shelf and anythin’ else fer that matta, ‘s all yers. All of it,” and with the sunshine smile leaking through in those words, the first tear falls onto my cheek and I couldn’t even care. “Hey, don’t cry, bug. C’mere, come gimme a hug.”

“But I have to be professional, and employees don’t hug their boss.”

“Hush, li’l one. ‘m not yer boss anymo’, ‘m yer colleague,” he contends shrugging, removing an arm from where it’s crossed over his chest to wave me over to him.

“A mentee shouldn’t hug their mentor,” I continue, the next tear falling as indecisiveness buzzes inside of me.

“Rebecca Ann Holte,” Harry insists firmly, and this one triumphs all others. It hurts more than any other, brings back the most memories, and makes the happy tears come even faster. And shit, does it get me going. “Come ova here and hug me, now,” he giggles with a finger pointing to the floor, and I swear it’s the best song I’ve ever heard in this whole entire world, next to the very words he just spoke.

But I can’t get my feet to wake up and in a blink he’s moving over to me with that sunshine smeared all over his face. I feel it cover my body when his long arms come around me, pulling my face against his chest.

“I don’t like my full name,” I confess into his button down, hoping I’m not smearing my blubbering makeup all over it.

“I do, ‘s pretty . . but I like ‘Becks’ betta. Yer my Becks,” he hums from above me, running miles up and down my back with his large hands. His hugs that can fix everything and anything.

“I’m sorry I always cry.”

“‘s okay, bug, ya don’t gotta apologize. I know it means yer really happy,” he muses, eliciting a quick nod from me that sings a happy giggle from above. “‘m so happy ya like it, I worked so hard onnit coz I wanted ya t’ love it.”

“You did all of this?!”

“Well, with a li’l help from me friends, ‘course,” he titters, the sound heard under my ears and overhead. His name leaves my lips in an amazed sigh and he only laughs harder. “Think that means ya like it, hmm, Becks?”

“Yes, I love it, Harry. All of this,” I answer, finding handfuls of his silky blazer in my hands, and his peppery vanilla scent. Too afraid of ruining his shirt, I back up and let go of him, wiping under my eyes embarrassingly.

“Alright?” he hums softly, brushing the hair away from my face and behind my ear. Even just his finger brushing my ear gets me going. Good God, Harry. “Here, lemme look.”

I oblige after doing most of the work and meeting his eyes that I swear I could melt looking into, and I should know because I have so many times. The happiness pours into me at the thought of getting to do it day after day, for as long as I like. Kind of.

“Doesn’t look too bad. Ya still look like me pretty Becks, but don’t wantcha cryin’, haven’t even been here an hour, love.”

“Oh, you knew I was going to cry when I saw the office,” I laugh and his quickly falls behind, tickling my ears.

“Ya, I admit I knew,” he titters and I playfully push at his chest, suddenly kicking myself for ending that hug so soon, unsure of the next time I’ll get one. “Well, shall we keep goin’ with this tour, or ya need anotha minute, bug?”

“I’m okay,” I answer and he nods.

“If ya say so, Boops,” he chirps, brushing the tip of his finger against my nose cheekily. “C’mon, ya have plenty o’ time t’ check this place out. I wanna show ya tha new law library, ‘s a real treat.” I follow his lead, even with tear streaks down my cheeks, because I know that if I’m by his side I’ll always be okay.

Well, so much for that whole ‘being a professional thing’, huh, Mr. Styles? He sure threw that out the door just now, as well as a few more doubts I had about the way he feels about me. Goodness gracious, I’m in real trouble.

I can’t wait.

At moments throughout the day, I could’ve cared less that I was being paid for all of this, because being in Harry’s presence for almost every second was rewarding enough. I got to remember the dark little freckles smattered across his face, the tan ones peppering his nose you can see if you’re close enough, and how utterly happy I feel being around him. He quickly felt like the sun and I was the orbiting planet, constantly around him and hanging onto his every word. Luckily, I was able to do a lot of staring, since I’m familiar with the firm and could tune out at times. He still gave me the grand tour which was a little different at times due to the remodel. I realized there was a post room that I had totally forgotten about, although I’m not sure how.

Harry made it fun, like he always does, but I noticed that he was ‘Boss Harry’ today. At times, he kept the personal talk to a minimum when there was stuff to get done, especially after the scene that unfolded in my office. God, I can’t believe any of what happened in there, and I try not to think about it, because I know I won’t be able to handle it. I called him ‘Mr. Styles’ on a few occasions and I think he liked the sound of it too. Fortunately, for my sake, he only remembered my last name aloud a few more times, because I think we’re both uncomfortable with anything besides ‘Becks.’ But I wouldn’t want it any other way, and I quickly realized that, when that’s how he introduced me to his- well my new colleagues before correcting himself. He really is just the cutest.  

“I didn’t dump too much on ya t’day, did I?” Harry asks with a sunny smile, falling down onto the sofa across from me.

“It’s debatable,” I shrug softly with an added laugh, my hand diving into the cloth bag sat between us.

“Hey, I did me best,” he pouts, pulling up his pastel slacks to get comfy, crossing his legs in front of me. Goodness, I really wish he wouldn’t, because it is the best and worst view I’ve ever seen. He looks too damn fine in those pants that hug him in all of the right places, fuck. Fuck me.

I’m sure you want him to, Becky.

Go away, demon, I’ve got this handled.

Pfffft, yeah right.

“I hope ya didn’t cheat while I was in tha loo,” he remarks, pulling his lips inwards to make a popping sound with his mouth, just like that part in Shrek 2 where Donkey does it in the carriage.

“I would not! I can’t believe you don’t trust me.”

“Oh, I trust ya, Becks, jus’ not when it comes t’ Scrabble,” he quips, dropping several tiles onto the thick cardstock board. I hold back a comeback comment as I watch him build off my word, forming one of his one.

H O T D O G

A devilish laugh leaves his cherry lips as I pluck my pre-chosen tiles from my rack. Meanwhile, he adds up his new points aloud and tallies them up.

“What kinda prints are ya gonna buy fer yer office, y’think?” he mumbles, the pen scratching against the yellow legal pad in his lap, doing one good thing, which is covering it from my prying gaze.

“I’m not sure yet, do you have any good suggestions?” I reply, turning over a D that had gotten flipped over, lining up my tiles from his G.

G O O D B Y E

“Nice long one, bug, and I dunno. ‘ve accumulated mine ova tha years, and they’re mostly prints o’ artists I love.”

“Yeah, I see that,” I respond, lifting my eyes to his spacious office that still surprises me with how different it does and doesn’t look from before.

As he said, more framed prints cover his walls. Before, he only had a Rolling Stones black and white picture above the sofa we sit on. Now, he has one of The Beatles from their Sgt Pepper launch party, a print of Mick Fleetwood and Stevie Nicks on the cover of Rumors, a smiling portrait of Cat Stevens playing guitar, and a moody photo of Simon and Garfunkel. The shelf above us is also brimming with new books, including biographies of previously mentioned musicians, and even Uncle-ing for Dummies.

“I like them. Maybe I’ll frame some favorite sheet music of mine, I have no idea,” I joke with uncertainty, finding his smiling eyes across from me, lifting from the pad of paper.

“There’s no rush, Becks, ya got loads o’ time t’ decorate. I jus’ wantcha t’ be at home in yer new office. I mean, ‘m still decoratin’ and ‘s been ova five years,” he comments, setting the pad to the side. “Don’t forget t’ pull new tiles, love.”

“Oh yeah, thanks for the reminder. It’s just weird, but in a good way, because I’ve never had my own office,” I say, reaching my hand into the bag and feeling the cool tiles once again.

“‘Course it’d be weird, ‘s sumthin’ new, but you’ll get used t’ it. ‘m sure you’ll figure out how t’ make it yer own, ya deserve it,” he exhales, his hands folded together against his mouth as he stares at the board intently.

“Thank you, you’re right . . The tiles aren’t going to arrange themselves if you stare that hard. You do know that, right?”

“Yes, Ms. Holte, ‘m well aware, thank you. Bloody hell, already feelin’ like we’re a hotshot coz we’re a lawyer now, are we?” he tuts teasingly, dropping his hands to his rack as he flits his eyes to me with a toothy grin.

“I am not, and watch the name, or no brownies for you!”

“Fine,” he sighs, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as he contemplates his move, but his focus is lost when his phone dings.

I try not to intrude, but the look on his face feeds my curiosity, and when his expression does a three-sixty and then another, I can’t look away. He doesn’t share anything though, just types back a brief reply to whoever and returns his attention to the game board. I try to do the same, planning my next attack on the board, but it’s futile because the worry I feel for him creeps up again like it so often does.

“Got any big plans fer t’night?” he muses aloud, laying down the ceramic tiles he’s chosen to form a short word off of my E.

B A K E

“Nah, just finally finishing New Girl after procrastinating it for the last few years. It’s always sad when a show ends.”

“Ah, guess yer busy then, nevamind,” Harry comments, adding up my points aloud before jotting them down. Wait, sir, you can’t just tease that at me. Well, whatever that is.

“Mr. Styles, what ever do you mean?” I ask calmly, placing heavy emphasis on his formal name, one that started as a joke but now I’m liking it more than I’d care to admit.

He doesn’t say anything right away, because of course. He just busies himself by picking out new letters and organizing his rack of tiles. I forgot about my new word long ago, because if I’m honest at least to myself, as soon as the short-hand had reached the three on the clock, I was already feeling melancholy. Now, no fewer than fifteen minutes of my orientation day remains, and the aching in my chest has only kept reminding me that I have to leave him soon. Talk about distracting.

“I mean t’ say, my sista had t’ cancel dinna coz Harper’s sick. So, how d’ya feel about dinna and drinks round two?” he suggests, finally meeting my eyes with his that have a little bit more sparkle to them.

“I’d love to, Harry. Maybe I could get that motorcycle ride already,” I comment, flitting my eyes over to the metallic gold helmet sitting on the edge of his organized desk.

“Maybe ya could, Becks,” he chirps after seeing where I’m looking. That sticky smile winds its way up his face, and finds the hole in the armor around my heart.

Am I in trouble with this man, or what? Fuck yes I am, and I can’t wait to dive right in.

The January day could be warmer, but it could also be colder, and yet with Harry by my side I don’t even notice. We both ditch our bags in my car for the time being, and suddenly I question a few things, mostly the intelligence of this idea seeing as what I’m wearing.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I say, voicing my concerns aloud and I regret it immediately when Harry looks over to me quickly, the disappointment building on his face.

“Oh, that’s alright, we don’t hafta, love.”

“No, I’m talking about the motorcycle ride. I want to, but I’m wearing heels,” I shrug giggling and he nods softly, biting his lip as a thought buds in his eyes. “Oh wait, I think I have trainers in my car somewhere from that one yoga class I went to years ago.”

I hear his delightful laugh in the corners of my mind as I pop open the boot of my car, grateful to my past self for cleaning it once, whenever the last time that was.

“Y’know, ‘m I eva gonna be able t’ get ya t’ go t’ a yoga class with me one o’ these days?”

“Most likely not, if you want my honest answer,” I tell him and he chuckles, but I hear the sadness in it. It goes both ways, being able to read each other like an open book. We may not open ourselves to other people that way, but I think we had let the other person in long before we can remember.

“Here they are!” I exclaim once I locate the old black shoes, soon taking a seat on the edge of my silver car. Harry chirps a ‘good’ as he unbuckles the black leather box on the far back of the motorcycle seat, pulling out a matte black helmet.

I’m reminded of the bitter cold through the thin fabric of my black dress pants that I tuck into my long socks, although it looks dorky.

“Nice socks,” he jokes, lips sputtering with a laugh as I approach him.

“Shush,” I retort playfully, fastening the last few buttons of my long violet peacoat.

“Lookin’ good, Becks.”

“Oh, I know, very motorcycle chic,” I agree jokingly, taking the helmet from him that he holds out to me.

I slide it over my wavy dark curls, and lift my chin to the ceiling of the parking ramp to try and fasten the clasp. After several seconds of trying, I still can’t get it. I grow anxious when I hear the thrum of the engine come to life.

“Okay, I’ve ridden with Robbie on his bike so many times, and I can still never get these stupid helmets buckled. Can you help me, please?” I ask, my hands falling with a sigh to find him zipping up his bulky North Face, a gray hood from his sweatshirt falling over his back.

“‘Course, love,” he snickers, and I know he’s just enjoying watching me struggle. “Didn’t know ya were familiar with bikes, kinda disappointed ‘m not givin’ ya yer first ride.”

“If it’s any consolation it’s my first ride in years, and anything will be better than riding with Robbie. He’s scary on that thing.”

“Don’t worry, ‘m a good driver with anythin’ that’s not a shopping cart. Here, lemme help,” he says softly, his brown leather Chelsea boots echoing on the cement ground as he nears me. The closer he gets, the more my heart starts to race in anticipation for the next moment, and it feels like it stops altogether when I feel the guitar calloused pads of his fingers on my chin. “Lift yer head, please.”

“Yeah, I guess you were a good driver the few times I’ve ridden with you in your Rover.”

“‘Course I was, and ‘m jus’ gonna ignore how yer bein’ a sarcastic li’l ass ‘bout it,” he quips, pulling a laugh from my lips. No longer can I stare at the ceiling or the top of the helmet, and so I finally look to him through the partition although nervously. “Here, I think I almost got it,” he announces, a tune soon flowing from his lips that he hums. Again, it’s that same song that I can never figure out and it’s driving me nuts, but just hearing him hum it makes my heart slow down and relax. I don’t even know why, I guess because I’ve heard it so many times now, and he can relax me without hardly trying. When it comes to touching him, it seems to excite me in a nervous way right from the get go.

Somehow, I had forgotten how dark and long his eyelashes are as they flutter against his skin while he focuses on fastening the strap under my chin. His tongue dots across his lips at times until his bottom lip becomes trapped between his teeth, his thick brows falling in concentration. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen anything cuter, but then the brisk wind catches his curls, again I’m uncertain.

“Don’t focus too hard now,” I tease him as the strap tightens under my chin. His features relax with a grin that doesn’t return a comment.

“There ya go, love,” he says, his warm vanilla touch falling away from me and he smiles as he pats the top of my helmet. “Oh here, almost forgot these.”

“What?” I answer, following him over to the bike as I lock my car, shoving my keys into the pocket of my coat. With his back to me, he plucks something from the leather bag of sorts and turns around, placing a pair of suede black gloves in my hands.

“Sorry, they’re prolly a bit large on ya, but ‘s betta than nuthin’,” he explains, and I only answer with a nod, watching him pull on a similar pair. “Ya still wanna do this?”

“By all means,” I agree aloud enthusiastically, stopping at the side of the gleaming black Harley. For some reason, it impresses me even more how the bike reminds me of how good he takes care of his things.

Now, I know I’m really falling.

“Hop on behind me then,” Harry instructs, swinging a long leg over the Harley to take a seat. My, was that a sight. I do as he says and settle onto the cushiony seat behind him, trying to ignore the bitter cold seeping in through my pants, but I’m sure he’s dealing with the same thing. “Ya warm enough, love?” he asks, raising his voice so I can hear him over the engine.

“Yeah, besides my bum, but what can you do?”

He chuckles with an agreeing nod, “Can ya find tha little footpegs with yer feet? Yer feet need t’ go on there and stay there, don’t wan’ ‘em touchin’ any otha parts o’ tha bike that’re hot.”

“Yeah, let me see,” I mumble, looking down and soon finding the little silver footrests. “Found them.”

“Good, now how does gnocchi soup ova on ninth sound?”

“Sounds great. I can’t remember the last time I was there,” I answer with a smile, wishing he could see it, and that I could see his. But I find that I can’t complain when I feel him grab my hands in each one of his, pulling them forward and around his middle to rest on his stomach.

“Neither can I, now that I think o’ it.”

“How come?” I wonder aloud. 

“Dunno, jus’ wasn’t tha same without ya there, Becks . . . Gotta hold onto me, ‘kay? ‘s notta very long ride, but that way we won’t get too cold goin’ jus’ ova there. Ya can fold her hands togetha too, if ya like,” Harry instructs, and I’m uncertain how many of his words I just heard after the very thing he just did. Shit, can’t I get a warning when you’re going to touch me? I need to prepare myself for something like that.

“O-Okay.”

“Alright?” he asks softly, projecting his voice over the loud rumble of the engine.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” I answer, my eyes dipping to the space in between us on the seat that I can’t get myself to close, no matter how much I’d like to.

“‘Kay, we’re gonna leave inna sec then. But if ya need anythin’ just, I dunno, pat my chest or sumthin’ since it’ll be loud. I won’t go very fast tho’. Hopefully I don’t have t’ do too much t’ be a betta driver than Robbie.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” I comment and we both laugh before I hear the click of the kickstand lifting, and then the weight of the bike resting on its two wheels.

“Ready, bug?” he asks, sitting forward a little to settle his hands on the handlebars.

“Yeah!” I call out to him, grabbing onto the front of his coat and feeling him under my touch, but the shyness keeps me from feeling more of him. It always manages to keep me from getting closer to him, all throughout the last few years.

He nods in front of me and within seconds he backs out of the parking spot slowly, then pulls down the aisle with a rumble of the engine. Luckily, we meet few cars in the parking ramp and soon we’re joining traffic. Harry was right, he is a good driver and already a better one than Robbie on his motorcycle. I can’t keep count of how many times over the years he’s made me feel safe so effortlessly, and once again he’s done it, and it only makes me fall harder.

Harry’s long legs come to sit on the tarmac when we approach a red light, but it quickly switches to green and he turns, the engine purring beneath us. The wind whips past us, but the helmet helps with some of it and so do his borrowed gloves that do indeed swallow my hands. They’re warm and cozy inside, likened to the feeling consuming my chest in this moment.

I’m not sure if I’d admit it to him, but this is the most fun I’ve had on a motorcycle ride before, although again it’s not that hard to beat the past rides I’ve taken part in. Somehow albeit unsurprisingly, this makes me find him all the more sexy as he drives us safely through town and expertly. The only thing that could make it better is getting to rest my head on his back, or in the crook of his neck. Despite knowing he wouldn’t mind, I refrain. Louder in my mind is the desire to scooch forward and have my chest against his back, but that too seems too intimate and it kills me to stay away.

“How ya doin’, bug?” Harry calls over the noisy traffic and engine when we come to another red light.

“Good, thanks!”

“Glad t’ hear. Are ya warm enough?” he continues, the bike stilling when he places his feet on the road.

“Yeah,” I answer, never sure if I’m speaking not loud enough or too loud.

“‘Kay. Ya don’t hafta be so far away y’know. I don’t bite, Becks,” Harry comments lightheartedly. “Scooch closer t’ me, you’ll be warmer that way.”

I nod, again feeling stupid because he wouldn’t know the difference if I nodded or shook my head. I oblige and close the distance between us like I’ve been itching to do, soon feeling the warmth from his body against my front.

“There ya go, ‘s that betta?” he says, patting my knee, once again scaring me in a good way. I respond with a short affirmation and a comment about how warm he is, and his head moves up and down. “Good, you’ll help me stay warm too, y’know. Ya’ve always been like a li’l heater.”

I’m not sure if he hears my laugh, but I’m okay if he doesn’t, because this is all more than enough. It’s just enough to be with him, and now behind him on his bike resting against his back with my arms around his middle, I don’t know how I could ever have anything to complain about. But then I remember all of the things I want with him, and how they’re just an arm’s reach away and not again for nine days. I smile sadly against the inside cushioning of the helmet, assuring myself that I’m getting closer to that with every day that passes, and that not even a month ago I never would’ve believed where I’d be today.

“Almost there, Becks,” Harry tells me over his shoulder as he returns his feet in front of mine while the traffic moves ahead.

“Yeah, we’re almost there, Harry, after all of this time. Almost,” I mumble aloud, the words dancing across his back and taken away by the wind.

Maybe he heard me, and if he did I don’t care, because we’re so close. I can’t help but wonder if he thinks it too.

[whirlybirbs]

*begging on my hands and knees* please give us some Arthur and Miss Turner sexy times??? We all know she wants it so bad and I’m living vicariously though her

     SNAKE BITES   &   MODESTY   ;

summary: miss turner gets bit by a snake. arthur treat is the best way he knows how, suck and spit. she is… confused. the predicament lends to an exploration.pairing: arthur morgan x reader, turner as a surname placeholder.rating: nsfw. heavy petting, casually dry humping of hands? listen, idk, their whole arc is a slow burn anyways including sexy times. word count: 1.3k, this is a whole full fledged fic for u horny cowboy hoesa/n: me? writing delicate smut? it’s about time! these two are a part of my simpler said aloud series – here’s the masterlist in poor need of an update, but every drabble can be found on my blog under this tag!

You hate snakes.

God, you hate them.

They are — really — pointless, angry, little worms that strike fear into your very mortal soul. They’ve got a clear vendetta against the human race, as so demonstrated by the current snake bite on your leg.

The thing had lunged from the brush as you’d been aiming down the iron sights of Arthur’s bolt action rifle.

(Practice makes perfect is Arthur’s mantra now that you’ve gotten a bit more comfortable with the whole idea of shooting, so you happily humor him with more practice between hunting trips and jobs. You’re getting quite good and, according to Sadie, you’ve got a natural affinity for sharpshooting. That makes you puff with pride and Arthur can’t help but happily chirp: I taught her everything she knows.)

Currently, though, the shooting practice has been forgotten and you’re screeching in pain, jumping around in sheer panic as the snake slithers away into the woods — Arthur’s eyes pull wide in panic, hands moving to urge you to settle on the stone wall.

“Oh, god,” you breathe, hands shaking, “I’m gonna die.”

“No, y’ain’t,” Arthur says sternly, hands flying to press your dress up without a word, “Let me see it.”

“Christ, the little bastard,” you whine, hands shaking a bit as you tug your skirts up and away from the two fanged wound, “It hurts.”

Arthur spares you a sympathetic look from his spot knelt in front of you before he unceremoniously latches his mouth to the flesh above your knee and sucks.

You gawk.

He, then, casually spits the venom from the bite out over his shoulder and pats your thigh.

As if nothing happened.

You’re still gawking.

“That cannot be good for you.”

“Probably not,” he rumbles, “But snake venom ain’t either.”

“… Was it even a venomous snake?”

“Noooo,” Arthur chirps sarcastically, head tilting, “I just wanted a good enough reason t’ lift yer skirts — ‘course it was venomous. Did y’ not see th’ stripes?”

“No, I was busy screamin’, thank you,” you swat at his shoulder. “And as if you’d need a reason.”

His brow quirks beneath his hat. “Y’ tryna tell me somethin’, Miss Turner?”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of the hand lingering on your calf — calloused fingers brush the skin there, hitching your breath a bit as you try desperately to keep your composure.

“Mr. Morgan — I’m simply stating…”

His eyes never break from yours, even as he leans to press a slow kiss to the front of your knee. Your heart jumps, skin absolutely burning from the languid kiss. He moves, then, scruff ticking the inside of your knee as he moves to press another kiss to the spot there.

You’re not at all sure where his confidence has come from, but you’re not at all complaining. In fact, you’ve turned to an absolute puddle, face pulled into a delight look of surprise that Arthur finds rather charming.

“Still hurt?”

“You,” you swallow thickly, “are doing a wonderful job of kissing it better.”

He laughs against your skin, smirk pulling the corner of his mouth as he bites a loving little mark to the inside of your knee. That startles a little gasp from you, one that leaves Arthur chasing more.

He shifts then, kneeling in the underbrush and finding your gaze again — it’s heavy with a burning tension that scalds him to think about. The skin under his fingertips is fire hot. Your dress is hiked up over your hips, showing the delicate lace undergarments there.

Under thick lashes, blue eyes dart to your covered core. Only for a moment. Like he’s glimpsing the way of forbidden fruit. They’re back on you in a moment as his hands scale your thighs.

You stir, belly stirring with heat that drives straight to the juncture between your legs as his hands brush you there.

“Y’ can tell me t’ stop,” he rasps, “An’ I’ll stop.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

That comes out a bit more desperate than you intend.

He ducks, then, pressing a searing kiss to the inside of your thigh that’s not nearly close enough to your core but very much there — you snag his hat, happily dropping it on your own head and threading greedy fingers into his hair.

Arthur smirks into your skin again, left hand crawling to press against you over your bloomers.

You gasp, then, hand shooting to grab his wrist. He moves to pull away, but you urge him on; his smile grows in confidence, a bit boyish, but very content with the reaction he’s rousing out of you.

“Good?”

“Very,” you exhale, dropping your head back a bit as his thumb presses against the bundle of nerves there — the friction is enough to have your legs shaking a bit. Your eyes are screwed shut, hand bracing you up on the stone wall as the other spurs him onward.

Snake bite long forgotten.

Arthur is very content kneeling in the dirt between your legs. You’re slowly but surely coming undone above him and it’s certainly a sight to be seen. Even with layers of clothing between you two, the moment is bathed in a sort of intimacy that has his own arousal aching.

Especially when you whine his name like that.

“I think,” he rumbles, chin high as he watches proudly as you squirm against his hand, “that bite a’ yers will be just fine, Miss Turner.”

A high peeled laugh, more breath than sound. “O-Oh? That’s good, thank you.”

Another hitch, another whine. 

He’s suddenly aware of how soaked you are through the lace. In response, he surges up, rising to snag you in a kiss that smothers the sweet, little sounds you’re making. You crumple, then, arching over the wall as Arthur straddles your thigh and continues his ministrations — this time circular and repetitive and in the perfect spot. His mouth latches to your throat, sucking a pretty, little bite into delicate skin there.

“Yer very welcome.”

“Arthur —” it’s a plead.

He laughs, low and deep, in your ear. “Mhm?”

Your hand finds his shirt, clawing at him as your hips buck and you whimper, breath stripped from you as he winds you higher and higher and higher —

“Go ahead,” he nearly purrs, “I gotcha.”

It’s blinding, really, when the monsoon of an orgasm washes over you. Your legs are shaking and your hearing goes for a moment, but you’re saying his name over and over like a prayer as you ride out the best feeling in the universe — and when you go slack, his hat falling off your head, he can only laugh all proud and warm and pat your thigh. 

All is quiet for a moment, then you come back to the world.

“Christ almighty.”

“Tha’s not my name —”

You throw his hat at him as he stands back, hands falling to his hips as he marvels a bit at the comical sight of you, draped over a stone wall with your skirts hiked over your hips. He catches it with a grin, shrugging it onto his head.

“You alrigh’ there, sleepin’ beauty?”

“Leave me here,” you chirp, bones like goo, “I’ll die happy.”

Arthur laughs again, shaking his head and fixing himself in his pants. He’s painfully hard but — he’ll take care of it later. This whole encounter is certainly wonderful fodder for when he’s alone. 

“C’mon, you. Can’t let y’ go septic because a’ tha’ bite.”

You guess he has a point.

You pull yourself up, pouting a bit.

Following him to Sugarcube, hitched beyond the trees, you can’t help but marvel at two things: the fact your knees are like pudding, and the fact Arthur’s head is held high as he clears the way to his horse. 

He’s proud of himself.

Sugarcube whinnies. You’re thankful she didn’t see the on-goings.

Arthur offers a hand to help you up. 

“You know,” he says slowly after a bit, “That’s barely the beginnin’ a’… that. Dyin’ happy comes much later.”

“Sounds like you’re tryna tell me somethin’, Mr. Morgan,” you chirp, hands around his waist, “Care t’ share?”

He just smiles, shaking his head as you laugh.

Modesty will be the bane of both your existences. 

[babbushka]

zannah if you’re still doing prompts can you do Y with our fave west virginian???

thank you for sending this in!! I hope you like it :)

Word count: 1500

Warnings: the most mild angst possible lol

It was nearin’ closing time forDuck Tape, and Clyde was looking forward to it. He’d been on his feet for asolid six hours straight, and now that the rush of his late-night clients wasover, he was starting to feel the effects. All he wanted was to lock up andcollapse in his bed. He was fixin’ to put himself in a sour mood, his favoritepatron nowhere in sight, and hadn’t been all evening.

That was, until you burst inthrough the front door, with such energy that the three remaining patrons andClyde all looked up with curiosity.

“Sorry.” You apologized to them,embarrassed.

The old grizzled men nursingtheir beers paid you no mind after that, and you made your way to the barcounter where Clyde was trying his very best not to blush.

“I was beginnin’ to think yaweren’t comin’.” He said quietly, already working on making your favoritedrink.

“I’m sorry, work made me staylate.” You said miserably, “I tried to get here as fast as I could.”

And that was true, you had spedlike never before, the countdown on the clock making you so nervous you evenran through a yellow light or two. That made Clyde blush even more, a shy smilegracing his lips as he slid the drink over to you.

“It woulda been okay, ya know.”He said in that same even tone, lifting his gaze to meet yours. He tried not tobe blinded by the affection in your eyes, but oh he was failing at that real bad.

“No it wouldn’t’ve.” You shookyour head with a shy smile of your own.

You had been coming in to DuckTape every single night for the past seven weeks – not that Clyde was countin’or anything. You came in for one drink, but you usually stayed for hours, relaxingand talking with him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He had developed the worst crushof his life over the course of them seven weeks, and it was gettin’ to thepoint where he was gonna have to do something about it. He was convinced youdidn’t feel the same, that the curse would catch up to him once more and he’druin the one real friendship he had built outside of his family.  

“Have one yourself, on me.” Yousaid, tapping your finger on the cold glass of the drink, “If you’d like ofcourse.”

Clyde nodded gratefully, it waslike you had read his mind.

“I reckon I would.” Clyde said,pouring himself the same beverage from the tap. “Thank you (Y/N).”

The two of you clinked theglasses together before taking a long sip, and you chuckled at how eager he wasto down his beer.

“Been a rough day?” You askedwhen Clyde went in for another one.

“Hmm, better now that you’re here.”He admitted.

The two of you looked at oneanother, unsure of what to do. If it were up to you, you’d reach across the barand pull him into a kiss, wrap your arms around his neck and tangle a hand in hishair. But he surely had no interest in you, you were just a paying customer isall – right?

“It’s mighty quiet in here, I’llget us a song?” You slid off the barstool, getting your feelings all hurt fromthe thought. “Wanna hear something special?” You asked him.

He could tell something was wrongby the slight tone in your voice, but he didn’t know what, or how to fix it.

“Anything you pick’ll be special,darlin’.” He shook his head.

Darlin’ -- did he call anyone else that? Or was that something justfor you? 

You wished you could ask, without making things awkward. Thisfriendship with Clyde was your most precious thing, if you screwed it up bymaking him uncomfortable or angry, it felt like it’d ruin your whole life.

You flipped through the faded jukeboxrecords and punched in the number for one you hadn’t heard in a long time,forgetting the name but remembering the melody. The music sounded softly, andonce it was good and goin, you returned to your seat, your drink, your bartender.

“This one’s a bit of a sad song,don’t ya think?” Clyde asked, wiping down the counter. His heart ached for you,wanting to hold you tight. He needed to distract himself from just reaching foryou, so the counter it was.

“It’s a sad song kinda night.” Youshrugged, sipping your beer.

“Now why’s that, angel?” Clyde,and there he went again with the names.

“You’ll be closin’ up in an hourand then I’ll have to go home.” You said, resting your head on one of yourhands.

“Well, we got an hour.” Clyde said,and you smiled.

The two of you spent the hourtalking and talking, catching up on everything. The three other patrons of thebar all said their goodbyes, walking home down the street where they lived. Itwas just the two of you and the jukebox, laughing about stupid jokes andquietly exchanging theories and stories, making eyes at each other the wholetime.

The more you spoke and laughedwith Clyde, the less sad you felt. It was enough for you to just be around him,whether he felt the same about you or not. It was enough to be in his company,to sit in the bar and blush at his sweet accent when he called you little petnames.

You finished your beer prettyearly on and had called it quits, but Clyde was a couple deep, and he wasstarting to panic. He had planned on telling you today, had planned on gettingit all off his chest, but now the time was coming and he had to actually do it.

His stomach grumbled loudly, andyou laughed at the sound.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t closethe kitchen so early.” Clyde chuckled, feelin’ only a little embarrassed.

“What are ya hungry for?” Youasked, looking at your watch. It was only nearin’ one in the morning, you couldprobably call to have pizza delivered or run out for greasy fast food.

Clyde looked at you long and hardthen, figuring now was as good a time as any.

“You.” He said, making your heartbeat so hard you swore he could hear it.

You had to have heard wrong – he couldn’thave possibly said he wanted you?

“You’re drunk.” You laughed, buthe shook his head, making you genuinely smile.

“Oh yeah? Well you’re beautiful.”He said, nerves wracking through his body, making him go all soft spoken. “Don’t take a drunk man to know it, neither.”

After a beat of silence, youdetermined that no this wasn’t a dream, and no you weren’t hallucinating. Youlooked into his eyes, really looked at him, and saw how nervous he was. Thepoor man was practically shaking, his mouth set in a line that you knew was himpreparing for rejection. Hope swelled in your chest, and you chewed your lip,your cheeks bright red.

“You really think so?” Youwhispered, the biggest grin on your face.

“I do.” He replied right away,his confidence slowly building. You hadn’t slapped him, or left, or told himyou just wanted to be friends yet, which was more than he was expectin, and itmade his own heart thud wildly in his chest. “I think a lot of things about ya.”

“Why don’t you come on the otherside of this here bar and tell me some of ‘em?” You asked with wide eyes and asmile, grateful for the privacy of an empty bar when he actually did.

“I’ll tell ya every day, if you’dlet me.” He whispered as he took your hand in between his own. You didn’t evenflinch at the cold metal of his prosthetic, and it made him emotional in a wayhe couldn’t really say. “I’d make you my girl, take ya home and tell ya adifferent one every night.”

The words filled you with joy, somuch so that you felt your cheeks grow wet from little tears that spilled.

“Oh Clyde, I’ve been waitin’ along time to hear you say that.” You said, feeling silly for crying, until yourealized his eyes were shining too.

“Well, whaddaya say?” He asked,still after all this, nervous.

You stood up on your tip toes tokiss him, square on the mouth. He immediately wrapped you up in his arms, kissingyou lazily, happily. You felt giddy, like it was the first time you had everkissed a man, the first time you had ever fallen in love. Clyde kissed you andkissed you, his mustache and goatee tickling your cheeks and your lip, makingyou smile and giggle against him. He couldn’t help but smile too, the two ofyou too happy to kiss each other properly.

“I say it’s closing time.” Yousaid, when the two of you broke away for air.

Clyde never locked up faster in hiswhole life, never more eager to go home than he was now that he was going homewith you.

Tagging some pals! :) As always, if you’d like to be added or taken off the list please just shoot me a message!  @fullofbees@spinebarrel @oh-adam@dreamboatdriver @bad–bad–man@thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom@driverficarchive@aweirdlookingtree@rosalynbair@redhairedfeistynerd@adamsnackdriver@glitzescape@arwarz @adamsnacc-kler

[queerchoicesblog]

Heaven Is A Place On Heart (THOBM, Eleanor x MC)

For the most romantic entry of the @choices-december-challenge hosted by my good friends @kinda-iconic I choose to put together two of my favorite things: a) THOBM and the adorable Eleanor Waverley x MC romance (still bitter about how underrated this book is) b) as cheesy as it can be, “Heaven is a Place on Heart” by Belinda Carlisle which is basically a personal romantic anthem after Black Mirror’s episode San Junipero. In the following fic you’ll find out how these two favorites of mine merge together. Hope you enjoy it (and sorry for typos/mistakes: I’m writing my master’s dissertation and I’m brain fried xD)!

Prompt: ‘I Love You’

Word Count: 1103

Tag: @helentwombly

_____________________

It was almost Christmas and the girls needed decorations for their new apartment. Elizabeth was adamant about that. Even though they would spend the festivities away, at Elizabeth’s parents’ place (and God only knew how that troubled the poor girl: could it really be Christmas without Jonathan? All the same, she didn’t have the heart to tell their parents that she wouldn't come home on such a merry yet sad moment of the year), the apartment they rented in the outskirt of Hartfeld needed decors. They both knew it was gonna be a blue Christmas: Jonathan’s death anniversary was just round the corner and Eleanor’s siblings were gone.

“That’s one more reason why we need to do that: for them, for our departed. I feel they’d want us to be merry…somehow” Elizabeth said one day as they were snuggled up on the couch.

“And it’s your first Christmas in this crazy modern world: I think this alone calls for s celebration” she added, kissing the top of Eleanor’s head.

So they agreed to go to Northbridge and do some Christmas shopping at the weekend.

On a chilly Saturday morning, they headed to Victor’s to collect his car keys: their friend enthusiastically encouraged the project and agreed to borrow his car after they solemnly promised to host a house party before leaving. 

As she was driving, Elizabeth put on some Christmas tunes on the radio and hummed Jingle Bell Rock. It was her favorite festive song: Jonathan always messed with her about that. Whenever he caught her happily humming that song, he made a show of rolling his eyes and groaned: “Oh no, not that again!”. Generally, what followed was a pillow fight…and a scold from mom for “running around like little savages and do you know how did it take to decorate the tree? Or to mop the floor? You two give me those pillows already!”.

Elizabeth smiled grimly to herself, reminiscing the past. Then she turned to Eleanor to say something and she realized that the girl had been awfully quiet so far. She was gazing off into the distance, mindlessly looking at the snowy landscape surrounding the highroad. She was sitting right beside her, but - Elizabeth could tell- she was far away.

“Earth to Eleanor” Elizabeth said in the most cheerful tone she could manage to hide her worries. Eleanor blinked and turned to her. She smiled apologetically. “Forgive me, sweetheart, I must have spaced out” Elizabeth quickly squeezed her hand. “No worries, El! You looked troubled though…what’s on your mind? If I’m not nosy” Eleanor laughed tenderly. “You’re not nosy! It’s sweet of you to worry about me when you see me spacing out. You always do and I can’t be grateful enough” “So no bad thoughts…?” Elizabeth asked tentatively. “On the contrary! Even if you might disagree” “What do you mean?” Elizabeth furrowed her brows. Eleanor inhaled deeply. “I was thinking about all the time I spent wondering what death, you know passing, going to what next feels like” "No bad thoughts at all, huh?” Elizabeth remarked. “Oh sweetheart, let me finish” - Eleanor laughed, stroking her girl’s cheek - “I was just wondering how it must be. Not in a gloomy…well, okay, not too gloomy way. You’ve been to Braidwood Manor, you saw what kind of atmosphere lingered there. You got a glimpse of it at least. Anyway, I was just fantasizing. I spent so much time in my head back then. I had a lot of time, after all…” Eleanor sighed, as memories of those days came back to her. 

Then she turned to Elizabeth smiling, no sadness in her eyes. “But I was wrong. Would you like to know what I’ve found out?” Elisabeth threw her a playful look. 

“Sure! Enlighten me with some ghost lore, babe!”

Eleanor’s cheeks reddened, as she said:

“I’ve found out that Heaven is a place on Earth"  her voice triumphant and tender. "Like the song you love?” Elizabeth giggled. “Exactly! Here, now you can live lives that we only dreamed back then: you can wear these super gorgeous and comfortable clothes, eat food from all over the world everywhere, you have planes! You can literally cover distances that were unimaginable a century ago in like a bunch of hours? And women can vote and study: I never thought I’d ever get to enroll to an actual university and here I am!” Eleanor beamed. “Not to mention that, even though I get there are still some issues about sapphism and homosexuality in general, women can woo each other and even get married! I always thought that was impossible…can’t you see how lucky you are?” “Oh babe, you’re adorable! Remind me to call you when my millennial pessimism threats to take over me” Elizabeth I commented, smiling softly. Eleanor paused, before adding. “Do you want to know why I love that song so much?” “Oh yes, please! Uncover that secret for me” Elizabeth answered, winking. Eleanor started singing. “When I feel alone I reach for you and you bring me home When I’m lost at sea I hear your voice and it carries me” She paused and took Elizabeth’s free hand into hers. “In this world we’re just beginnin’ To understand the miracle of livin’ Baby, I was afraid before But I’m not afraid anymore” A lump formed in Elizabeth’s throat as those verses echoed in her mind: she understood what Eleanor was trying to tell her. That was their story. Two troubled souls too scared to face the present and trapped in a cage of nightmares and silence. Two girls overcome by a sense of guilt and grief that were slowly learning how to live again…together. Eleanor spoke again. “I always thought that Heaven was a place where you would finally be at peace. No more pain, no more tears, no more bad memories. A place where you belong. And yes, a place where love came first or so I hoped, at least” Eleanor reached to her girl and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Heaven is here, now with you, Elizabeth. And if you allow me…Heaven is you”. Elizabeth was speechless. She stopped the car at a crossroad, as she felt tears welling in her eyes. She turned to face her girlfriend who was looking at her with adoring eyes. 

All she managed to say before her voice cracked was “Eleanor, this is the sweetest thing someone ever-”. Eleanor smiled at her lovingly and cupped her face. Then she took a deep breath and never losing eye contact with Elizabeth, she whispered: 

“I love you, Heaven”.

[mars-is-the-new-world]

Answer 21, Tag however many you like

Tagged by @ub-sessed thanks!! 

1. Nicknames: I dont have one, but also i have a name that i hate so idk were even i guess

2. Zodiac Sign: Aries

3. Height: 160cm which i think its like 5′24′’ ??¿¿? 

4. Hogwarts House: last text i did i was gryffinpuff so there u have it

5. Last Thing I Googled: papanek eco design

6. Favorite Musicians:  also im so basic so Pansy Division, Panic! At the Disco, C. Tangana, Hozier, Hayley Kiyoko or Superfruit are all like my jam

7. Song Stuck in My Head: Be by Hozier have been like stuck since the whole album came out in February i think (specially this lyrics: And once atrocity is hoarse from voice and shame. And when the earth is trembling on some new beginnin' With the same sweet shock of when Adam first came)

8. Following Now: around 650

9. Followers: around 1000

10. Do I Get Asks: i dont usually check because i use the tumblr app and they usually dont notify so ill always forget to check when im on the web one but not really

11. Amount of Sleep: 6-8hours

12. Lucky Number: none

13. What am I Wearing? socks and a pijama

14. Dream Job: painter, just pay me to paint stuff i dont mind if on canvas or an objet, that woulbd be my dream job just pay me to paint and draw 

15. Dream Trip: w friends just bagpacking around everywhere 

16. Favorite Food: “patatas a la importancia”, its like a spanish dish i think where you do like a ham sandwich but using a potato instead of bread and then dip it in flour and egg, fry it for a bit and then put in in a mixture of fried onios tomatoes and peper and then let it finish it cooking. Theres like different ways of doing this dish but this is what we do at home. It taste like heaven. 

17. Instruments: Piano (almost went there like professionally lol i did like since i was 7 till i was 19 years old) but also you know basic sweet flute from school and im a self taught guitar player

18. Languages: i can defend myself in Spanish and English (im just bad at writing w a screen and also im a bad writer in general im better speaking i think), i know a bit of my allegedly mother tongue Asturian i did a couple of courses on it and also very basic French and even more basic German. Also Im interested in learning Swedish and Japanese.

19. Favorite Song: just from the above artists, for example Un Veneno by Tangana 

20. Random Fact: i have greenish/yellowish eyes which i like (?)

21. Aesthetic: grunge or a kinda messy style i guess, like i mainly wear dark plaid shirts w dark skinny trousers but i also like 80s aesthetic from some movies 

I tag @girl-almighty-1994 @hasenfu @el-gilliath @malex-i-never-look-away @littlecountrymouse