#and ill offer if anyone else wants to wear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mochinek0 · 8 months

Text

In Sickness and in Health

"Damian, I need you to work with the new student on this project." his history teacher stated.

"What new student?" the young Wayne questioned.

'There's no one new here. Has he finally lost it?'

"Stay after class, please." they replied.

Damian simply nodded.

'At least if the new person is all in his head, I can work by myself.'

"The new student isn't here today as she's sick. They're also a transfer student." The teacher spoke, "Here is her address."

"You want me to go there and become ill?" Damian speculated.

"Not at all, Mr. Wayne. All I am asking is that you, at least, speak to her about the project." the teacher sighed, "She'll know better than anyone how long she'll be absent. Get her to write a note saying, I don't know, she gives you full control on the project or something. I'll deal with it from there."

"I can do that." Damian accepted.

'At least I can still work by myself.'

Damian looked down at the address in his hand an then back at the seamstress shop. Confused, the young Wayne entered the store and looked around for someone his own age.

"Can I help you?" asked an elderly lady.

"I was given this address for a classmate of mine." Damian explained, "I believe they mixed it up. Excuse me."

"Are you looking for Marinette?" they questioned.

'Marinette? Is that her name? Not American; he did mention they were a transfer student.'

"Yes." he answered, still unsure.

"Go through the blue curtain in the far back." the lady smiled, "There's a set of stairs that will take you to the apartment above the store."

Damian nodded and went to the back of the store. There was blue cloth hung up on a shower rod that parted slightly.

'A door would be better suited.'

Damian walked up the stairs to the second story and found single door. He raised his hand and knocked on the door. The door opened and he was shocked. There in the doorway was a girl with blue hair, up to his chest. She was wearing what seemed to be pajamas, had a blanket draped over her shoulders, a face mask, and a cooling cloth attached to her forehead.

'She is obviously seriously ill. How did she open the door? Why didn’t anyone else open it for her?'

"Who are you?" she questioned, hoarsely.

"Damian Wayne." he declared, "I was told to talk to you about a history project for school."

She moved away from the door and went stright to the kitchen.

"Sit anywhere you want. I haven't sat in the living room in three days. I'd offer you a beverage, but I don't want to get you sick and asking you to get it yourself, seems rude." the girl spoke.

'Polite; unexpected.'

"What are you doing?" Damian questioned, as he watched her stir a pot.

"Making soup for the week." Marinette answered.

"So, I should not expect you to return this week." he suggested.

"I usually eat soup when I'm sick and for the following days, to keep my immune system cleansed." she explained, "So, history? Leave me the details and I'll work on it."

"Mr. Hayes suggested you could write a note putting me in charge." Damian spoke.

"I can work, Damian." Mari remarked, "I don't need you coddling me because I'm sick."

'Coddle! I-The last thing I would do is….coddle her!'

Damian snapped, "I am giving you a way out! Get your rest and I will do it completely!"

"I'm on bedrest and as you can see, I'm functional." she growled back.

Marinette began to cough heavidly, enough to make her grip the kitchen counter. Damian watched as her breaths became labored, as if she had trouble inhaling.

'She calls this functional?'

Marinette grabbed a mug and poured hot water from a near by kettle. Damian watched as she spooned a small amount of tea leaves into a container and place it in the mug.

'Peppermint? She should try lemon, ginger, something citrus.'

"When are your parents getting back?" Damian asked, not moving from the doorway.

"I'm emancipated." she smiled.

'She's by herself?'

Damian looked around and noticed a small table with one chair. The living room had enough to seat up to three guests. There was also one door to the left, behind the living room.

"Leave the form and an email or something so I can send you my portion." Marinette called out, "If you don't like it, I can work in my room and you can work from out here."

Damian took out a pen and quickly wrote down his email at the top of the paper.

"I'll be back, tomorrow." he stated, leaving the apartment.

'Why is she so stubborn? She needs to rest. The simplest solution would be for her to rest this week while I work alone. What is she trying to accomplish?'

The moment she opened the door, Damian stared at Marinette annoyed. She had showed recently, but her hair was still wet. At the very least, she was wearing different clothes.

He scowled, "Where is the bathroom?"

"Oh, in my room, on your left." Marinette pointed out.

'Guess he really needed to go.'

Damian came back with a towel and threw it over her head, without notice. He quickly began to rub her head to get the moisture out.

"You're going to get worse with you hair looking like a wet mop." Damian stated, "Dry it completely."

Marinette remained silent and still. Damian stopped his movements.

"Marinette?" he asked, moving to face her.

'Shit!'

Marinette's eyes were wide and she was practially hyperventilating. She was clenching and unclenching her hands.

'She does not handle physical contact well. Is she going to be okay at school?'

Damian kneeled in front of her and showed his hands were raised in front of him.

"My apologies." Damian whispered, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Damian reached out and dragged his bag, next to the couch. He pulled out a small cylinder.

"I brought you some tea leaves. Citrus help you recover from illness." he began, "I don't believe peppermint will work." as he handed her the container.

Marinette took it and looked at it. She opened it and sniffed the tea leaves. There was lemon, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves. There was some other stuff she couldn't make out.

"You......made this?" Marinette questioned.

'Why would he give this to me?'

Damian remained silent, but nodded. He didn't think she would noticed he took his time to make her something.

"I make my own teas." he replied.

Mari smiled, "Thank you."

Damian watched as her expression softened. She got up from her seat, letting the towel fall from her head, and quickly began to get things ready to brew the tea. Once it was finished brewing, she took a sip.

"It’s delicious, Damian!" Mari smiled, happily, "Maybe I should go to you for all of my teas."

Before he could respond, Marinette took her tea and went into her room. Damian picked up his things and saw she had gotten comfortable in her bed with her laptop on a tray.

"Were we not working over there?" he questioned.

"I don't want to get you sick." Marinette replied, "Besides, there's only one chair. I'll just email you-"

Damian left the room and returned with the chair from her kitchen table.

"I don't get sick, easily." Damian declared, setting the chair down a few feet from her bed, "h quicker we finish this, the more you can rest."

Marinette worked silently, sipping on the tea Damian had brought her. After an hour, Damian packed up his thing, declaring he'd return the next day.

This time, when Marinette opened the door, he could tell she was moving much more sluggish.

'She got worse! She's pushing herself for me. Damn her stubbornness!'

Damian quickly picked her up in his arms.

"You're-" she began.

"If I get sick, I will blame you later." Damian claimed.

"Sorry." Mari whispered.

Damian placed her back in her bed. He quickly rushed to the bathroom in search of a first aid kit or at least, a thermometer. Once he found it, he brought it back and held it out. Mairnette looked at it, in dissapointment.

"Use it." he demanded.

Marinette shoved it in her mouth and waited. The quick beeping notified them both something was wrong. Mari took it out of her mouth n tried to hide it. Damian was able to grab it with ease.

'102.5'

"I'm fine." Marinette declared.

"You are far from fine." Damian stated.

Damian took the thermometer to the bathroom and washed it, as well as his hands. When he returned, he found Marinette fast asleep. He found a cooling pad near by and placed it on her head. Damian remember a small cloth by the sink and wet it. He quickly cooled off her arms, her neck, and her legs, before covering her up. Damian took out a sticky note and wrote down his number.

Marinette woke up to the room being dark.

"Damian?" she called out.

She grabbed her phone and saw it was close to two in the morning. She set her phone down and felt a paper.

'Sticky note?'

She turned on the flashlight on her phone and looked at the note: Call me if you worsen-Damian.

'Aw. He's really sweet. I feel so bad for falling asleep on him.'

Marinette stood up and made her way to the bathroom. She grabbed the thermometer from the medicine cabinet and took her temperature. It read 99.2; it was the best it had been all week. She washed the thermometer and took some medicine. After, she made more of Damian's tea.

'Gonna need it.'

Damian arrived back from patrol to find an email from Mari.

'I thought I told her to call me if she got worse, not email me!'

He opened it in a panic and found it was her completed work for the assignment. Damian looked at the time. It was now three in the morning and she had sent it thirty minutes ago. He grabbed his phone and opened his contacts. Then, he froze.

'I don’t have her number! Fuck!'

Damian went over the next day and was surprised to see her more active. Marinette had answered the door happily and was dressed in white tank top, pink shorts, and slippers. She wasn't even using a blanket to keep herself warm.

"Damian!" She smiled, "Hey, did you get my email?"

"I did." he answered.

"Is everything okay?" Mari asked, "I didn't think I'd see you today."

"Why did you send it so late or early, I should say." Damain questioned.

"It was when I woke up." Marinette answered, "I'm sorry for falling asleep on you. I decided it was best to work on it, while I had a clear head. I'm feeling a lot better, so I should be able to see you at school tomorrow. I'm sure it was all thanks to your tea."

Damian nodded and held out his phone for her to grab. Marinette looked at it confused, but took it.

"I planned on yelling at you, for being up so late, but I didn't have you number." the young Wayne stated.

Marinette giggled, "And I should give it to you, why?"

Damian remained silent. He didn't think she would refuse to give her number to him.

"In case we are paired up again." he quickly spoke.

Mari added her contact information and handed it back.

"Sick Girl?" he questioned.

"So you know it's me." Mari answered.

He hated how right she was. It was likely that if she had entered her name, he would have forgotten it in a week and deleted it.

"Do you want to come in or was that all?" she asked.

"That was all." he said and quickly left.

Marinette closed the door an giggled.

'He's like a stray cat that came to say hi.'

Damian sat in class and kept his eyes on the door. Marinette hadn't walked in, yet, and it was almost time for the bell to ring.

'Is she still sick? Did her fever come back? I should have called her this morning to make sure she was feeling fine.'

The bell rang breaking him from his thoughts and then, she rushed in.

'Marinette.'

"Late." their teacher declared, "I will forgive you, this time, since you have been sick, Miss Duapin-Cheng."

Marinette nodded her head. It was finally time for history class and it was so different to see her in uniform. Damian could admit he more use to seeing her in pajamas or shorts, with her blanket curled around her. He was even use to her falling asleep, but some how the uniform felt less personal. He hated it. Damian watched carefully over Marinette. He had to make sure she was completely better. Her damn stubbornness left him worried about her pretending to feel better for his sake. Then, he saw it; the tense smile on her face. She was surrounded by their peers. It reminded him of the smiles his brothers' gave at parties. Damian walked over and grabbed her wrist.

"We need to talk about the project since you have been absent." he declared.

"Oh, okay." Marinette answered, as he pulled her away from everyone else.

"He could have been nicer."

"It's Wayne. When is he ever nice?"

"Lucky bitch."

"I can’t believe she was his partner."

"He probably did it himself, already."

"Yeah. He's just gonna give her a copy and put her name on it."

"I can’t believe he touched her."

"True."

"Better than him yelling at us to move or scram, again."

Marinette frowned as she heard what they said about Damian. That wasn't the Damian she knew.

"Thank you." Marinette whispered, once they were far enough.

Damian looked at her questioningly.

"For rescuing me." she answered.

"You appeared uncomfortable." the young Wayne spoke, " I was uncertain how you would react if one of them touched you. I understand if I made you uncomfortable, as well. My apologies for forcing you. Next time, tell them to leave."

"I'm not good at dealing with people; not anymore." Mari declared, "Besides, they should forget about me soon. I'm still 'new' in their eyes. I'm not trying to gain anything by talking to them. I don’t want to get to know them."

"I thought you weren't coming." Damian spoke, changing the subject.

"Huh?" she asked, confused, "I told you I was coming today."

"You were late." he growled.

"Oh." Marinette winced, "Uh….I have a feeling I will be in detention a lot."

Damian stopped and turned to her, waiting for an explanation.

"I have always been late to school, even when it was across from my house." she stated.

Damian sighed, "I'll pick you up in the mornings."

"No!" she cried out.

"Why?" he demanded, "Is that an issue? I have been to your place before, have I not?"

"I'm not a morning person." Mari replied, looking down.

He sighed again, "My brother isn't either, unless he has had coffee. I can bring you some." making a mental note to steal Tim's coffee in the morning from now on.

"Really?" Mari questioned, perking up.

"You better, at least, be dressed." Damian retorted.

"Pajamas count as being dressed, right?" she squeaked.

Damian glared at her, "Why would you still be in pajamas?"

"I'm not a morning person!" Marinette glared back, "I work late and-"

"The shop keeps you that busy?" he questioned.

"Oh." Marinette spoke, "No. I help in the shop sometimes, but that's not my job. I do commissions. She asks me to help some times, but she's going to let me use the sewing machine for free until I can buy one."

"How….long do your commissions take?" he sighed.

"Depends who it's for. If it's for my uncle, I tend to work three weeks straight. It also depends on the pay and timeline. If he called me right now and asked for something in six months, I wouldn't worry unless things began to pile up. It could also be one of my aunties."

'What the fuck is with her family? No wonder why she is emancipated! I can't believe they would work her that hard.'

"You're moving into the manor." Damian declared, "I'll even get you a new sewing machine."

"I am not!" she cried out, "I barely know you! All I know is you name and you make tea!"

"At this rate, I'll have to get you dressed and drag you to school!" Damian cried back.

"Who the fuck made you my babysitter?" Marinette shouted.

"Someone should be." he huffed, "You obviously need someone to take care of you. I don’t see why it shouldn't be me!"

Marinette squeaked and turned red. Realizing what he said, so did Damian.

The teacher watched as Damian took Marinette aside to talk. He was well aware that their assignment had been turned in three days ago. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was the closest he had ever seen Damian be comfortable around anyone. He also was aware of Marinette's past school and being bullied.

'I knew getting them to talk would be a good thing.'

DAMINETTE TAGLIST: @meme991001 @umbreon-worshipper @stainedglassm @jasmine-the-fox @psychicdelusionwerewolf @vixen-uchiha @mysteriouschar @missmadwoman @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dissarraymania @tundra1029 @abrx2002 @mrsjacuinde @ledalasombra @animegirlweeb

TAGLIST: @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @tigresslily @legodetectivemalsblog

#daminette #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng #marinette in gotham #bullied marinette #emancipated marinette #sick marinette #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #history project #matchmaking teacher #maribat #damian worried #grumpy damian #mochinek0

788 notes · View notes

xhoneygirlxx · 1 year

Text

We’re Not Friends

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

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

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

*if I miss anything plz lmk*

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

And that's why friends should sleep in other beds

And friends shouldn't kiss me like you do

And I know that there's a limit to everything

But my friends won't love me like you do

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thought you'd never ask."

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

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #honey's birthday bash #honey's holiday celebrations

1K notes · View notes

tb3ih · 2 years

Text

SWIMMING LESSONS. xiao.

a/n: this is a LITTLE spicy, but i promise it's good *prays silently*

classmate!xiao who's only mysterious because no one's ever seen him wear anything other than a scowl or that black iron chain that dangles against sculpted collarbones which peek out from his slightly unbuttoned uniform shirt.

classmate!xiao who despite having dozed off for the majority of the lecture, will always be the first to turn in his test and walk right out of class without so much as a second glance because the teacher allows self-dismissal after exams and he'd rather be underwater than in a classroom.

classmate!xiao who you will rarely ever see speaking to someone other than when called on by the teacher or summoned by his swimming coach, but for some reason, a pair of amber eyes seems to have followed you to your seat in front of him after your introduction to the class.

classmate!xiao who's eyebrow has lifted when you exchange a small greeting to him before settling into the desk in front of him, offering a small "hm" in reply and drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the room.

classmate!xiao who observes you quietly while you take detailed notes of the lecture, not once sparing you an opportunity to catch him watching the way you bite the inside of your cheek when deep in thought about an equation or hypothesis.

classmate!xiao who sighs quietly and moves to gracefully pick up the pen you didn't realize you had dropped yet, setting it on your desk unnoticeably before continuing up to the teacher's desk to turn in his work.

classmate!xiao who wordlessly continues his work when you turn to observe his own solution process to a particularly difficult problem on the board, everyone else in the class watching speechlessly as you're completely oblivious to his correction of one of your formulas when you look through your notebook again for the topic.

classmate!xiao who now hums lowly in reply to your greetings in the morning and nods almost imperceptibly at your farewells in the afternoon.

classmate!xiao whose voice is stern but gentle after poking your forehead with the eraser part of his pencil when he catches an error in your solution, telling you softly to redo it again.

classmate!xiao who rests his chin on his palm while you work on your assignment on your now-conjoined desks, never letting his gaze waver even the slightest bit of a clue when you smile excitedly at finishing or solving something.

classmate!xiao who's slowed his stride just the slightest (he tells himself he wants to pay more attention to the street signs as he walks home) and suddenly you're catching him at the school gates and riding the train together.

classmate!xiao who doesn't hesitate to pull you gently to his chest when the train car is especially crowded, resting his chin just lightly enough on your head to have you blushing the whole way because he's a swimmer and his chest is very solid .

classmate!xiao who doesn't disturb you when you accidentally doze off in class during exam season, eyes narrowing menacingly at anyone who dares approach your desk.

classmate!xiao whose eyes are unreadable when you open your front door to find him standing there soaked by the storm, carrying a small thermos of soup because you had texted you wouldn't be attending class due to illness.

classmate!xiao who doesn't realize you're awake when he calls you beautiful watching you rest your head on his lap on the couch, the static background noise of the tv supposedly having lulled you to sleep.

classmate!xiao whose beautiful, golden eyes widen just in the slightest when you call his name just as he's about to leave your home, your expression a little panicked when he catches from having run from the living room.

classmate!xiao whose voice is barely audible when he says your name, watching as your fingers reach up to hook around his goddamn black iron chain, forcing him to lower his head just slightly.

classmate!xiao who's breathless when your lips ghost his, voice exasperated when you tell him how much he frustrates you sometimes.

classmate!xiao who's expression is confused, one of his hands gentle against your cheek when you try to explain to him how inconsiderate it was of him to tell you that and then leave.

classmate!xiao whose amused laugh has you blushing furiously, halting your rambling (dear archons, he's beautiful, you think).

classmate!xiao whose irises are mischievous and taunting when they just barely meet yours to ask you if you're going to kiss him yet.

classmate!xiao who's smirking against your lips when you realize you actually forgot to breathe and have to pull away to take collect yourself, hitting him lightly on the chest when you see that he doesn't appear to be fazed at all (you forget his sport involves long moments underwater).

and it's classmate!xiao who's now got your legs wrapped around his waist as he carries you back upstairs to show you what it really feels like to be breathless.

part 2 !

#xx tb3ih #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact smut #genshin fluff #genshin smut #xiao #xiao fluff #xiao smut #xiao x reader #genshin x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #gender neutral reader #genshin impact xiao #xiao genshin impact #alatus xiao #adeptus xiao

4K notes · View notes

bumblebeesfromvenus · 4 months

Note

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5EyqjvSs_h/?igsh=MTV5dmt0OWUyYmVneg==

(I'm sending this to all ghost writers I can find because I want everybody to see this)

Bestie. You have no idea what you just started.

THIS is my favorite thing ever now.

I couldn't resist writing something!!

Just imagine attending a ball, and this mysterious man shows up with that skull mask?? It's giving phantom of the opera, and I live for it!!!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Phantom of the Ball

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The large, shining chandeliers almost blinded you, the bright sparkle emitted from them making you keep your head lower. The ball had been dragging on for hours and, as fun as it looked, actually dancing for 4 hours without having anyone to converse with was more a curse than a blessing.

You swore your corset had tightened over the course of the evening and the many alcoholic beverages were doing little to refresh you. Your feet were starting to hurt, not only from dancing but from more than one clumsy man stepping on them, with no chair in sight.

The small crystals embroidered on your skirt had all your attention now as your gloved fingers fiddled with them.

At least it would pass the time faster, you supposed.

Unfortunately, your peace was quickly disturbed when someone ran into you, making you stumble forward. With a scoff on your lips you were swiftly pulled into the dance circle, your head spinning as you were hastily swirled around and passed off to the next man.

There were no pleasantries exchanged as you merely had time to catch your breath, trying to keep up with the pace, before the spiel repeated itself and you were meet with another unfamiliar face.

You were spun around like a dreidl, blinking to stop yourself from becoming too dizzy and falling.

Within the flash of a moment, there was a black wall in front of you. Gasps and murmurs filled the room, and the music slowly died down as all eyes were curiously set on the tall stranger.

He was dressed in the finest silks and velvets, all in black, setting a strong contrast to the creams, beiges, and whites everyone else sported. You craned your neck to take a better look at him, only to be met with an elegant mask, resembling a skull.

He peered down on you in an intimidating manner, sending a, surprisingly, pleasant shiver up your spine. You stared in amazement at the fringe at the bottom of his mask, making up the teeth of the skull.

They were still for now, but you wondered how they'd behave once he'd move. A quick glance around the room made you aware how many couples had taken a few steps back from the dance floor, leaving you and the mysterious man, quite literally, at the center of attention.

"May I?"

He broke the suffocating silence. Despite the roughness of his voice, there was no ill intent to be found towards you, only gentle words.

He held out his hand for you to take, wearing gloves that mimicked skeletal hands made up of various beads, embroidery and pearls.

There was a breath stuck in your throat, you only managed to nod, taking his offered hand. You gasped softly when he pulled you close to him, a firm hand on your waist as he gently cupped your hand in his large one.

He began moving, quite gracefully for someone his size. The music picked back up and, although hesitant, more and more couples joined in on the dance.

You were positively enchanted by this man, watching intently as the fringe at the bottom of his mask moved like a chime in the wind. You managed to make out a pair of mesmerizing brown eyes behind the mask. They made you feel hot and cold at the same time, adding to the exciting feeling in your chest.

He guided you with ease, almost making you float as he twirled you around like a delicate porcelain doll in a music box. Your hand fit into his so perfectly.

You wondered if the soft and rich fabrics he wore felt as pleasant underneath your fingertips as they looked, your hand resting on his shoulder. The outside world started to bleed and fade away as your thoughts were only occupied with him.

There were so many questions and mysteries surrounding the man. It made your heart swell with curiosity.

Before you could inquire more information about your strange suitor, he vanished. His hand slipped from your waist, and although his hand lingered in yours just a moment longer, it was gone in the blink of an eye.

He'd left you alone in the center of the ruckus of obnoxiously large skirts and clacking heels. You turned in every direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of where he went.

The mass made you feel suffocated as they seemed to close in on you. You whipped around like a whirlwind, your eyes flitting over every possible exit.

You managed to see an all too familiar skeleton hand slipping from the doorframe, and determination boiled up inside of you like never before.

You hiked up your many skirts, swiftly ducking under swinging arms and spinning around dancing couples. Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths when you managed to escape, but there was no time to rest.

You continued on, rushing through the door you saw him last. Your skirts rustled, your shoes clacked against the floor, and your breaths were labored as you ran down the long and empty hallway, keeping an eye out for the mysterious skeleton man.

Maybe you should be scared, running from him and not after him.

But there was something so intoxicating about his presence. His gentle touch, the deep, rough voice that you wanted to soothe with honey. And those intriguing brown eyes that held more secrets for you to uncover.

He was like an opioid, making you addicted after the first taste, to have you coming back until the end of time.

Your chase brought you to the moonlit courtyard of the estate.

You leaned forward, hoping to get more air into your lungs.

Damned corset.

Taking a rest on a stone bench, you looked around the blooming courtyard, admiring the many varieties of beautiful flowers. It smelled sweet, a tense fragrance having in the air like a heavy fog.

You were burning up from running, but the chilly evening breeze made you shiver. It was eerily quiet, only a few cicadas and crickets singing their songs for the summer.

You listened closely, hoping the stranger had tried to find some peace here.

You perked up when the crunching of grass under heavy footsteps reached your ears. You quickly rose from your seat and rounded the large hedge.

Your breath for caught in your throat when you spotted his broad back, calmly admiring the red roses, it seemed.

Unfortunately, the man had noticed you and made an effort to swiftly disappear into the night.

"Wait!" You reached out your hand, making him stop in his tracks.

"At least tell me your name." You pleaded, carefully stepping closer, as if not to scare away a wild animal.

You saw his shoulders drop slightly before he turned to face you, looming over you once again.

"They call me Ghost." He answered lowly, looking down on you with caution.

"Will I see you again?" You urged, stepping even closer.

His entire presence was pulling you in. You truly had no control.

You could've sworn you saw an amused glint in his eyes.

"I'll come back to you." He sounded sincere and soft as he spoke.

"Do you promise?" Your brows were pulled together as you swallowed, the urge to touch him twitching in your fingertips.

He glanced to the side before expertly plucking one of the deep red roses off the bush. He offered it you, and you gladly took it, being careful of any thorns.

"I promise." He said softly, brushing a lock of hair out of your face.

In an unexpected move, he gently took your unoccupied hand and slipped off your glove, making you gasp.

He proceeded to gently take your hand and guide it under his mask, the pearly fringe brushing your skin as he pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. Your face was burning up, your heart pounding inside your ribcage.

He slipped his hand from yours again, making yours twitch in an attempt to keep his touch. He chuckled deeply, a fondness in his eyes you would never expect from someone like him.

You swallowed thickly as you glanced down towards the rose he'd gifted you. The aroma was strong. It made your head spin.

When you looked up again, though, he was gone, only the dark sky adorned by twinkling stars staring back at you.

Like a phantom, he disappeared into the night, only leaving you clutching your glove, the flower in the other hand, and a promise you hoped he'd keep.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I am in love with this!!! Tootin' my own horn, I know...

Anyway, let me know what you think! 👀

🩷

More of my works -> 💫

#bumblebeesfromvenus #Fi answers 🐝#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #cod x reader #cod x you

126 notes · View notes

callsign-rogueone · 7 months

Text

like snow on the beach - r.g.

Ridoc Gamlyn x marked!reader a continuation of love at first fight, part of the Ridoc and Sweetheart series 🦋 words: 2.8k 🏷: FOURTH WING SPOILERS. she/her, feminine reader (wears a dress for Reunification Day, referred to as a girl/woman). mentions of canon character death, mentions of dissociation and anxiety. you have a panic attack, but someone helps you through it. titled after the tswift song!

“Don’t look now, but that guy from second squad is staring at you again,” Liam says quietly. “At your four.”

You twist in your seat as if cracking your back, looking over your shoulder. Sure enough, the cute curly-haired boy who had handed you the dagger you’d won from Jack Barlowe the other day is looking right at you.

“Say the word and I’ll handle him,” Imogen offers, picking at her nails with disinterest. She’s been itching for another fight since her last opponent tapped out after ten seconds.

The tall redhead sitting across from him notices you’re looking in their direction, and he kicks his friend under the table. He looks away quickly, starting a conversation with the rest of the group. Not discreet at all.

“Hurting anyone in Sorrengail’s squad wouldn’t go over well with Xaden. And look at him. He’s harmless,” you defend.

“He definitely doesn’t want to kill you,” Liam agrees. “He’s just smitten.”

You glance to your right again. He has his back turned now, still engaged in conversation with his friends, who are all laughing at something he said.

So he’s the class clown type. Interesting.

Imogen scoffs. “He can bark up that tree all he wants, but we all know it’ll never get him anywhere.”

--------------------------------------

And bark he does. You can’t shake the guy and his sunny personality. He’s everywhere you are, always having something to say, some shameless line to drop on you.

“If I make this bullseye, you have to let me take you out for dinner. There’s an amazing pasta place in town, you’ll love it.”

“No,” you say flatly.

“You don’t like pasta?” He asks, and you know that if you say you don’t, he’ll just offer something else.

“I do. But we’re not going out.”

He misses by an inch and a half anyway.

You pick up one of your own blades, weighing it carefully in one hand before pulling it back and letting sail. It lands to the left of his, in the dead center of the target.

He doesn’t look embarrassed in the slightest. “Alright, we’ll stay in and work on my aim. Just you, me, and a whole rack of knives. What do you say?”

“I’d say that putting us in a room with one weapon is a bad idea.”

He grins. “There’s just something undeniably sexy about a woman who wants to kill me.”

“I don’t want to kill you.” It’s true -- you have no ill will toward the guy, you just wish he’d quit while he’s behind.

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You falter for a moment, thinking about it. You don’t think you’ve ever been objectively mean to him, just blunt in declining his advances.

“You’re moving your arm too much,” you say instead, yanking your dagger out of the wood panel, but leaving his where it stands, off-center. “Less in the elbow, more in the wrist.”

You don’t stick around to watch him try again.

--------------------------------------

Nothing seems to discourage him, not your dry responses nor being ignored completely. He’s determined to keep chipping away at your shell, but why?

“Is your dragon mated? I was thinking we could go on a double date. Aotrom’s an upstanding guy, she’d like him.”

You can’t even begin to imagine the conversations this guy must have with his dragon. Is he as weary of the boy’s enthusiasm as you are, or is he encouraging this behavior?

“I’d consider it if he wasn’t missing so many teeth,” Rhith muses. “But he’s a bit old for my taste.”

“Their personalities wouldn’t mesh at all,” you answer, as if you’re speaking about Rhith and Aotrom, and not you and Ridoc.

“I think if she gave him a chance, she’d change her mind,” he says slyly.

“I don’t date men under six foot.”

He mimes taking a knife to the chest. “You wound me, sweetheart. But I promise I can make up for it in all the ways that matter.”

“With that dazzling sense of humor?”

“I was going to make a dick joke, actually. But I’m glad you think I’m dazzling.”

You roll your eyes, leaving.

--------------------------------------

You have never considered yourself vain, but you’d spent a full minute admiring your reflection in the bathroom mirror before heading down for the festivities.

The formal dress looks incredible on you. Tight in all the right places, the cut highlights the muscle you’ve gained since starting the term at Basgiath, but it covers enough to still be somewhat professional.

You don’t need jewelry -- your rebellion relic is the perfect accessory, the black swirls forming the illusion of a lace sleeve up one arm, complimenting the black satin draped over your skin.

You’d even fixed up your hair for the occasion, freeing it from its usual sweaty braids and washing and drying it carefully, letting it fall over the exposed curves of your shoulders. Simple. Perfect.

Imogen hadn’t hesitated to hype you up when she saw you, her jaw dropping at the sight. “Holy shit, girl, you look hot. If you’ve ever wanted to fuck anyone in the quadrant, tonight would be the night to do it.”

You laugh. “I’ll be perfectly content to have a calm night. Some boring speeches, some fireworks, and then straight to bed.”

“Suit yourself,” she calls, headed off.

“Someone should tell Amari that she’s missing an angel.”

You don’t need to turn to know who it is, but you look over your shoulder at him anyway.

Ridoc continues to wax poetic, a lazy smile on his face. “You are a goddess among men. The kind of woman bards write songs about and men go to war over.”

“How many drinks have you had?”

“None,” Sawyer answers for his friend, sounding like he could use one himself. “This is just the way he is.”

Ridoc agrees, grinning. “Stone cold sober, gorgeous. I want to remember this sight forever.”

You laugh at his bold absurdity, and the light, clear sound goes straight to his heart.

He beams even brighter. “You laughed. That’s a crack in the armor.”

“You’re a menace to society, Gamlyn.”

“Gods, I love it when you’re mean to me,” he says with a dreamy sigh. “I’m gonna write about this in my diary when I get back to my room.”

“Goodnight,” you say, ending the conversation, or trying to.

“Someday, sweetheart,” he calls, watching you walk away. “I’ll get there someday, I know I will.”

--------------------------------------

You should already be on the flight field, but the fear gripping your heart has your boots stuck to the stone ground of the courtyard. You’ll be no use to your friends in this state, anyway. You need to relax.

You close your eyes for a moment, picturing the meadows of Tyrrendor. A dozen blue butterflies materialize in front of you, the gentle motion of their wings as they float through the night air soothing your nerves.

“Whoa.”

You startle, and the butterflies vanish, your head snapping toward the voice.

Ridoc stands a few yards away, still in his dress uniform, though he’s undone the first two buttons of the shirt, rolled up the sleeves and ditched the jacket entirely. A few dark locks fall across his forehead, loosened from the gel that had been holding them earlier.

He looks good like this. Too good.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he offers. “I’ve just never seen anything like them before. They’re beautiful.”

You compose yourself quickly. “They’re native to Tyrrendor. They don’t live anywhere else on the continent.”

“You’ll have to show me the real ones sometime,” he says, smiling.

You raise an eyebrow at the implication that you’d be bringing him home any time soon.

He continues, not missing a beat. “I may look like a hotshot dragon rider, which I am, but we both know you’d be the one in charge between us. I’d do anything you asked, sweetheart.”

“Anything except leave me alone?” you ask, regretting the sharp words as soon as they enter the air.

He’s silent. Maybe you’ve finally proven your point, proven to both him and yourself that you’re no good for him, that you don’t deserve the starry-eyed reverence he’s afforded you for months.

A whistle echoes across the courtyard, a three-note gliss you’d recognize anywhere; the one your parents had used to call you inside for dinner when you were kids.

You don’t turn toward the sound, still looking at Ridoc. For the first time ever, he isn’t smiling at you, and it feels like the world has stopped turning, that the sun has burnt out and the moons have disappeared from the sky.

You’re sick with guilt, struggling to form complete sentences. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… that was a really fucked up thing for me to say. I just… I don’t understand why you-”

“Hurry up,” Garrick calls, impatient. “Xaden is pissed.”

“You should go,” Ridoc says softly. “We can talk about this another day.”

Why is he looking at you like that after what you’d said to him? Why does he still care about you? Why did he in the first place?

“Be safe,” he adds quietly, and that’s enough for you to finally move your feet, to run toward your foster brother, to follow him and Xaden to gods-know-where for their final assignment.

Garrick’s words go in one ear and out the other as you race toward the flight field. It doesn’t matter where you’re going or what you have to do, only that you come back, that you see Ridoc again and tell him the truth.

--------------------------------------

The next few days go by in a blur, devoid of color. You’re barely aware of your existence, just going through the motions to keep yourself alive. You sleep, you eat, but your dreams are blank and the food tasteless.

You settle onto the cold stone of the main staircase, leaning your cheek against the banister.

It’s easy enough to conjure a few of the soft blue butterflies, watching them flutter about above your head. You reach forward, extending your hand to one, and it lands on your finger, flapping its wings gently.

“You’re getting really good at that,” Garrick says quietly, sitting down on the step above you.

Five years living as siblings has attuned him to your emotions -- he knows that something is wrong, that something had been wrong even before you were sent on this suicide mission and lost two of your friends. “Do you want to talk about what happened when I came to get you?”

You really don’t, but the words come out anyway. “I fucked up,” you whisper, still watching the butterflies. The sight of them only reminds you Ridoc, of the soft awe that had lingered in his eyes even after they’d disappeared — until you’d snapped at him. Gods, the look on his face…

You push the thought away, and they fade back into air. “I hurt him, because I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” He asks. There’s no judgment in his tone, just gentleness; he genuinely wants to understand.

“That he was being serious, that he actually likes me,” you answer. “I keep pushing him away, but he keeps coming back, he keeps looking at me like… like I mean something to him, and I don’t understand why. He doesn’t know me, he isn’t one of us, he isn’t even in my squad. There’s no reason for him to care about me.”

Garrick lets your words hang in the air for a moment before he speaks. “I thought it was fitting that you developed an illusion signet.”

You look up, waiting for him to elaborate.

“It took me a full year to figure you out when we met, to realize that the person you really are on the inside doesn’t match the person that you show people. I think he saw right through that perpetual stone-faced look, saw the girl that I’m proud to call a sister.”

“You really think so?” You ask quietly.

“I know so.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, a gesture that he knows is equivalent to a tight embrace from anyone else -- you’ve never been a touchy person.

You’ve never been good at feelings, either. “It’s too damn quiet in this house,” you say after a moment, changing the subject.

He laughs. “It really is.”

--------------------------------------

Ridoc is standing in front of you.

You’re relieved at the sight of him, that no terrible fate befell him in the week you’d been away, but you can’t handle the conversation that you need to have, not when you feel like your heart is going to give out.

“I can’t do this right now,” you say, but the words don’t come out as strongly as you’d hoped, not enough air in your lungs to speak properly. “So if you could find somewhere else to be, that would be great.”

In true Ridoc fashion, he isn’t discouraged by your protests, kneeling down next to you. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

His seriousness confuses you enough to comply. You raise your chin, stunned at the softness in his eyes -- you’ve never been this close to him before. He’s beautiful.

“I’m gonna check your pulse, okay?”

You nod silently, allowing him to extend a hand toward you. Two fingers press into the side of your neck, feeling for your heartbeat.

He’s never touched you before. His hands are warm.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Basgiath,” you answer easily.

“Good. How long have you been sitting here?”

“I don’t know. Since we got out of formation?”

He realizes exactly what upset you — that must have been your first flight since you got back from War Games with the rest of the marked ones.

“I don’t know what you saw out there, and you don’t need to tell me, but whatever it is, it can’t hurt you right now,” he promises. The genuine sincerity in his voice has the tears falling faster.

Through your blurred vision you see him open his arms, and you lean into them without hesitation. He’s so warm that you can’t help but melt as soon as your skin touches his.

He rubs your back, speaking softly. “You’re okay, pretty girl, you’re safe. Just breathe with me, okay?”

You attempt to match the even pace of his chest rising and falling against yours, deepening your shuddering breaths.

“That’s it,” he soothes. “You’re doing great.”

Grief comes flooding out of you, and you clutch at the fabric of his flight jacket to remain upright. “I miss them so much,” you sob. “They didn’t deserve to die.”

Liam and Soleil, the two marked ones that hadn’t come back with you.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

He continues to rub your back, murmuring soft reassurances to you until your grip on him has loosened and your breathing has slowed.

You’ve relaxed, your heart no longer pounding as it had been when he found you, but you still don’t want him to go, you couldn’t bear it if he left right now. “Stay?” You ask in a small voice.

“Of course,” he answers, pulling back to sit beside you. “As long as you need.”

Your tears have dried, leaving you with a headache and a hollow feeling in your sinuses. “Why did you help me?” You ask quietly, looking out at the river.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Because it was the right thing to do. And because I can’t stand to see pretty girls cry.”

“Of course you’re back to cracking jokes already.”

“I’ve never been joking with you,” he says, shaking his head. “I meant every word I said to you, sweetheart. You’re beautiful, but you’re so much more than that, too. You’re capable, strong, witty, kind, caring, gentle… everything about you is good, and I wish that people would see past the relic on your arm and realize that.”

You blink at him, stunned.

“It’s true,” he says softly. “When you smiled at me that day at challenges, I knew that there was a soft heart under all that steel.”

A soft heart. A sweet heart.

There’s a moment of quiet while you work up the courage.

“Is that pasta place still there?”

He laughs, perhaps a little too loudly, but you’ve grown to love that sound, and the way it shakes his chest is comforting, like the rumble of a thunderstorm when you’re safe and dry indoors. “I think so.”

“Wanna go there tomorrow? Together?”

He grins from ear to ear. “Are you asking me out right now, sweetheart?”

You look over at him. “Yeah. I am.”

“This is going in the diary too, for the record.”

You can’t help but laugh, leaning back against him. If only for a moment, your anxiety has melted away.

You feel like you could face anything, as long as you have Ridoc to come home to.

#ridoc gamlyn #fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn x reader #fourth wing x reader #mine #Ridoc and Sweetheart

265 notes · View notes

mngo-jii · 1 year

Text

☆ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 (𝐡𝐩 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝) 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 CRUSHING HEADCANONS ! 🐚

✉️ : i guess ill write it myself then (p.s. i havent written in MONTHS but you have NO right to tell me this sucks because this is the most you can get for hpma x reader 😠 /j) I'm open to requests, I'm bored

Daniel Page, who accidentally messes up his potion from staring at you too hard—who, on the other hand, was too fixated and focused on trying to help him ferment the mixture with what he had teached you so far.

Daniel Page, who constantly, indirectly calls you pretty.

Lottie had asked for advice on who she should draw to practice anatomy on, adding that it should be someone who has relatively pretty features so it won't be too hard to captivate. On the spur of the moment, Daniel was the one who almost immediately responded with your name.

Daniel Page, who always offers to help you study for exams, of course without a remark on how you "always need him" first.

Daniel Page, who ironically always needs you, and goes to you for help even though everyone else is a 100% available and a lot more suitable for the situation.

Daniel Page, who's slowly getting used to sneaking out at night with you to explore Hogwarts even further. To the point he could almost feel a pang of disappointment when you decide not to go.

"Alright," he speaks through his usual accent, "It's better not to get hung up by Mr. Filch anyway." He wishes you a goodnight after you do and tries to ignore the way his shoulders slump and how his mood lightly drops.

Daniel Page, who randomly gets reminded of how pretty you are despite the light frown you have displayed on your face as a result of whatever he said.

Additionally, Daniel Page who can't help but halt his speech when he realises how pretty your pout looks and the way you sassily cross your arms at him, so out of patience yet ready to hear him out. Hence why he always ends up "reluctantly" complying with your plan instead of his.

Daniel Page who covers up the fact that he wants you to dance with him "as a favor."

Daniel Page who gives you a flower because it was an "extra herb" he didn't need (even though he could have kept it for the next potion that acquired it), and makes up an entire potion when you asked what it was used for.

Daniel Page who suddenly distances himself from you when you start hanging out with another male student—

Daniel Page who says it was he who was "your first" and who has been on adventures with you more than anyone else and asks what's so special about said male student once you worriedly ask him what's going on

Daniel Page who's stuttering, awful lying, and flushed face never fail to give him away every time the others question him about you

Daniel Page who looks like a beaten-up puppy whenever you choose someone else over him. Notwithstanding it might be the smallest matter as to accompanying you to go back to your dorm to pick up something you forgot ☠️

Daniel Page who starts to stammer and sweat when you ask his opinion on how a certain outfit, accessory, or makeup looks on you— His response either being "It-it looks fine" or "uhhh um 🧍🏻‍♂️"

Daniel Page who feels guilty about the lack of solid answer he had given you, not to mention the pout on your face once you back away.

So he apologises afterward and straight up tells you that you're always pretty, and that he doesn't understand why you need to be told that when you'll always be the same or even prettier in anything you wear 🤷🏻...

Daniel Page who goes blank when he realises what he had just said ☹️

Just Daniel Daniel Daniel Daniel <3 he's a cutie patootie fr

a/n: GOD I ACTUALLY DON'T LIKE THIS ITS THE BEST I COULD DO IM SORRY

#(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ— written by lnr #hpma #hogwarts magic awakened #hpma x reader #hogwarts magic awakened x reader #daniel page x reader

565 notes · View notes

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

Text

The Great Below

Pairing: Ettore (High Life) x f!reader Warnings: DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT. Violence, dub/non-con, oral sex (f receiving and allusions to m receiving), smut, dark themes. Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: When the ship lands temporarily on a habitable planet, she is relieved to have a taste of freedom. For Ettore, it's an opportunity for him to make his move without prying eyes to observe.

Author's note: Day nine of the Smuffmas prompts - "swimming and face fucking". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

It had never been part of the plan to land on a yet undiscovered planet, and despite Dr. Dibs’ protestations captain of the ship, Chandra, had insisted it was worth the risk. The ship needed repairs, ones that couldn’t be performed while in flight - they would lose lives, and the ship would remain damaged if they were to attempt it. This is their best shot at survival.

There are mixed feelings among the crew regarding wanting to explore. Some don’t want to take their chances in an environment that could potentially be hostile, where the air may not be breathable, if there’s air at all. Others are eager to escape the close confines of the ship, it has become as much a prison to them as the bars they found themselves stuck behind on earth.

Monte is the first to venture out. He volunteers, claiming he is disposable, and if he returns safely it will be an indication that they can step out to complete the repairs without any detrimental effects to their health, and gather resources if there are any available. His first expedition sees him clad in one of the onboard beige and blue spacesuits, and when he returns there is no apparent damage to it. He reveals the planet is much like earth, it has a gravitational force, and a rich, clay-like substance makes up its surface, there is even water, vast expanses of it.

When he ventures out a second time, he dares to remove the helmet of the suit and excitedly informs the crew that he is able to breathe. He’s monitored for twenty-four hours afterwards, and having shown no signs of illness, the rest of the crew are granted permission to explore if they wish.

She is among the first to take up this offer. It seems irresponsible to allow a ship full of convicts the freedom to roam, however, there is the sad realisation that they aren’t really free. Where could they possibly run to? If they don’t return to the ship then they will face certain death without shelter, food or safe drinking water.

Despite this, she is grateful to feel the texture of earth beneath her feet once more as she steps out. She has refused the use of a suit, wishing to feel natural air upon her skin, and when she is far enough away, she removes her shoes and socks, grinning as she wiggles her toes in the softness of the soil. She had almost forgotten what this feels like.

She rolls her eyes when she catches sight of him in her peripheral vision. Ettore. He lopes down the ramp after her, moving slowly, purposefully. He isn’t wearing a suit either.

She has managed to avoid him so far on board. He sends shivers down her spine with how he behaves. The intensity of his stare makes her feel as though she could be crushed beneath the weight of it, and it always seems to be directed at her.

It is likely the result of being trapped on the ship, it’s enough to test the limits of anyone’s sanity, and everyone’s frustrations manifest themselves in differing ways. However, no one else’s expression of displeasure makes her as uneasy as his. Were it not for his frequent use of the Box, she is certain he’d have attacked someone by now, probably her.

She hopes that a fleeting taste of freedom, and the opportunity to explore a new environment will be enough to distract his focus from her, and other crew members have begun to make their way out now too. There is safety in numbers, so she does her best to ignore Ettore’s presence, picking up her shoes and venturing forward.

Eventually she reaches the bank of a large body of water, similar in size and shape to lakes back on Earth. She stares at it hesitantly. Monte hadn’t drunk from or swam in the water he’d found here, so she has no idea of the harm that this could potentially do to her, it seems foolish to waste the opportunity though.

Tentatively she dips in her toe. The surface ripples around it, the sudden coldness causing her to gasp. However, beyond a slight chill there don’t appear to be any immediate negative effects. It has been so long since she swam, or lost herself in the sensation of being immersed fully in water - the showers aboard the ship just aren’t the same.

Fuck it, if I’m going to die, better to go happy and doing something that brings me joy, than stuck aboard that floating prison cell.

She tugs off her scrubs, dumping them in a pile on top of her shoes at the edge, and steps in. Her skin prickles into gooseflesh at the coldness, and the water gets deeper as she slowly moves forward, the surface rising against her body as her feet move up onto their arches as the riverbed becomes more difficult to stand on, until she is no longer able to touch the bottom at all.

Treading water, she smiles to herself.

Deep enough to swim.

She pushes outwards, stretching her limbs out, as each rotation of her arms propels her body through the water. For a moment there is no ship, no death sentence, nothing; just the cooling breach of her arms and legs against the lake’s surface, her mind quieter than it's ever been.

When she reaches the middle, she rolls onto her back, allowing herself to float, arms spread out either side of her, with her legs parted, staring up at the sky.

It’s only when she sees the murky greyness of the atmosphere of the solar system above her that she is reminded she’s not on earth, she’s not free, and she is hit by the hopelessness of it all. It makes her stomach sink.

No use in pretending, I’ve been served a death sentence.

The novelty of her swim loses its charm, and she paddles her way back towards where she had discarded her clothes, her heart lurching when she sees Ettore standing there, watching her unblinkingly.

She climbs out, and he doesn’t back away, he would force her back into the water if he were to step forward. She shivers, acutely aware of how her nipples pebble against the soaked fabric of the ship’s standard issue cotton bra, chilled by the cool of the air against the dampness of her skin.

Protectively she wraps her arms around her chest, drawing in a shaky breath as her eyes flit nervously between him and her clothes by his feet.

“Going for a swim?” She tries to ask casually, hoping a sense of normality will help to diffuse the situation, whatever that situation is.

His gaze drags downwards, from her head to her feet, before travelling back up again, and for a moment she thinks he means to ignore her.

“No,” he says eventually, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Just watching.”

She scoffs in disgust, stooping to grab her clothes and pushes past him, eager to be away from him as quickly as possible.

“Not so fast, you little cocktease,” he tells her, grabbing her arm to stop her.

Before she has time to think about it, she allows the explosiveness of her anger to guide her actions, dropping her clothes and swinging her fist towards his face. It makes harsh contact with a dull thump and he lets go of her, staggering backwards.

She stays rooted to the spot, chest heaving and eyes wide as she watches Ettore’s hand lift to his mouth, wiping away the thin trickle of blood from his split lip.

Cold terror swirls in her chest, as his eyes lift to meet hers, filled with malevolence.

“You fucking bitch, I’ll make you regret that.”

Faster than her legs can carry her away, he’s tackling her to the ground, knocking the wind from her as her back makes hard impact with the soft earth.

“Ettore, stop!” She screams, attempting to kick him away as his large hands grasp at the waistband of her wet underwear, dragging it down her legs.

He is stronger than her, bigger than her and he easily keeps her in place, the force with which his fingers indent into the flesh of her thighs as he wrenches them apart will surely leave bruises behind.

She lays back, breathing ragged, closing her eyes and resigning herself to her fate. Better to let him do what he wants and wait for him to be finished, than attempt to fight back and make it worse.

Her eyes snap back open when she feels the swipe of his tongue against her folds, her breath catching in her throat he licks sloppily at her, before he moves upwards to suck harshly at her bud.

An involuntary moan escapes her, shocking her almost as much as the fact that she’s enjoying this. He has taken her by force, but she reluctantly admits to herself that it feels good to be touched in this way after so long without it. The Box could never compare to the shockwaves of pleasure that Ettore sends rippling through her.

Her fingers snake their way into his short hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan against her cunt, the reverberation making her throb, and she grinds herself wantonly against his face. She pushes hard against him, rocking her hips as he laves at her, guiding his movements with the grip she has on his hair. Every upwards buck of her pelvis causes his nose to swipe against her sensitive bundle of nerves, making her clench around nothing.

He grips her thighs harder, tugging her against him and she pushes back with equal force, fucking herself against his face, pushing herself towards the apex of her pleasure.

She comes hard, her body trembling with the force of it as her walls contract almost painfully with the intensity of her orgasm, and she emits a choked cry, feeling boneless as she pants and collapses backwards.

Not giving her any time to recover, Ettore pulls himself back to his feet, grabbing her by her hair and forcing her to her knees. She looks up at him through dazed and pleasure drunk eyes. His mouth is bloody and shiny, a twisted combination of his blood and her arousal. The blue of his eyes is eclipsed almost entirely by the dilation of his pupils, as he frees his hard cock, tapping it against her lips.

“My turn.”

#ettore x reader #ewan mitchell #ettore x you #ettore x y/n #ettore smut #ettore imagine #ettore high life #high life ettore #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore fanfic #ettore fan fic #high life #high life fan fiction #high life fanfiction #high life fan fic #high life fanfic #ettore

243 notes · View notes

not-wholly-unheroic · 3 months

Text

Some headcanons surrounding Disney Hook’s mental health…or lack thereof…

He has night terrors almost every night. He puts off going to bed for as long as he can to avoid it even when he’s exhausted and often wakes up screaming several hours before sunrise. A good night of uninterrupted sleep might be four hours if he’s extremely lucky.

Because he knows he often wakes up screaming and emotionally fragile and because he knows that it will likely wake up others in the vicinity, he is extremely self-conscious about sleeping near others, especially those he doesn’t know well. While he can’t totally avoid it on the ship, when he has the option of sleeping farther away from everyone else (like when they are camping out on the island), he intentionally sets up a space as far away from all the others as possible.

He doesn’t like sleeping in total darkness and always keeps a lamp burning. He was afraid of the dark as a child and now, having experienced the suffocating blackness of the inside of the crocodile, he absolutely cannot stand total darkness.

The ticking phobia gets worse over time. At first, it’s only the one specific clock that the crocodile has that bothers him, but as the traumatic experiences pile up and then the octopus comes along, it gets increasingly more and more difficult for him to be around anything that even remotely resembles the sound—all clocks, metronomes, even just a rhythmic clapping or tapping noise. Within seconds, he can feel his chest tighten, his legs go limp, and he starts struggling to breathe…which reminds him of the lack of air inside the crocodile or underwater…which makes it even more difficult to breathe. Eventually, it gets to the point where he just freezes up entirely and can’t move until the sound goes away.

He wasn’t afraid of his own blood until after losing the hand. There was just…so MUCH of it… Now, even a small cut makes him a little woozy. With larger injuries, he has to sit down as soon as he notices it to keep from passing out.

Post-redemption arc, the thought of his past violence sometimes makes him physically ill.

He wears the same coat and other general ensemble all the time because it offers the comfort of familiarity. He used to wear other colors and switch things up but it actually makes him anxious now to do anything different because he’s had so many good clothes ruined by the crocodile and he doesn’t want to find a new favorite just to have it destroyed. So he just has a bunch of identical items in his wardrobe.

The coat itself is a comfort item. When it’s on, he feels more confident. When he takes it off, he’s often feeling more vulnerable. Smee has picked up on this and figured out it’s a good indicator of gauging his emotional state.

Smoking is his way of dealing with anxiety. It forces him to slow his breathing down and the nicotine helps calm him down. Cigars and tea are his go-to coping mechanisms when he’s coming out of a stressful experience.

He’s prone to some serious depressive episodes. During the worst of them, Smee has to make sure he doesn’t have any weapons around to harm himself…including the claw. He has been known to cut himself (despite his discomfort surrounding his own blood) when he doesn’t have any other weapons and is having an especially difficult time.

He has an extremely deep-seated fear of rejection and abandonment. It’s why it takes him so long to let anyone—even Smee—really get close to him…because once he lets himself care about someone, he’s terrified of losing them. The thought of being alone and forgotten is even more terrifying than the thought of the crocodile.

Touch is grounding for him when he’s having a panic attack. Even just a hand on his arm helps but often he instinctively wants to cling to whoever happens to be closest when he’s struggling. He will straight-up drag Smee into a tight hug. Fortunately, Mr. Smee doesn’t mind and just hangs on for as long as he needs it.

#captain hook #captain hook disney #disney peter pan #disney #disney villains #james hook #captain james hook #headcanons #my headcanons #trigger warning: suicide #trigger warning: self-harm

53 notes · View notes

josephquinnswhore · 1 year

Note

Hii, I'm new here and loving everything you wrote xD

can I request one pedro x reader in which they meet each other at a party or sth but reader is in a relationship with someone else (famous or not, it doesn't matter) but pedro gets mesmerized and it's pretty much love at first sight on his part and he acts respectfully but yet very flirty saying one day they'll be together and reader will be his and some months or a year or so later they meet again by chance and reader is now single and also sure pedro forgot about her but he didn't and they just flirt again and there's a sparkle there, it could end on smut or not, it's up to you! Thanks 💖

ill wait for love - pedro pascal x female reader

Summary: Pedro waits for you after a love at first sight moment with you.

Word Count: 4.6k

Content Warning: reader has a dirtbag boyfriend, abusive relationship, he threatens to off himself. (Reader is oblivious). Use of whore, hooker etc. Foul language, getting drunk. Bit of spice at the end but nothing actually happens.

Note: thank you for requesting this, I went overboard I’m sorry 😭😭😭🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 I decided to change things up a bit to go with the plot I hope that’s okay!!

“You’re not wearing that. You look like a cheap hooker, go change now.” You frown at the comment, liking how the dress sits on you, but you know better to argue, Ben, your new found boyfriend of a few months was sensitive on topics like this; what you’re allowed to wear, but you thought it was sweet, it means he cares about you right? Plus you were his, your body wasn’t meant for wondering eyes.

“Sure hun. Do you want to pick out something nice and I’ll change?” You start to kick of your heels and unzip the knee high silver dress, approaching the mirror in your bedroom, you take a look at yourself and decide he’s right, it’s not the right outfit, you do look cheap.

“Put this on.” He had pulled out a floor length gown, navy blue in colour and it had mesh long sleeves, and a high neckline, it kind of felt suffocating but you didn’t argue. “Zip me up?” He does, his hands feel like fire on your skin, and like a flame you try not to flinch at the warmth on your cool skin.

“What do you think?” You ask, twirling for him, holding your hands in front of your stomach, fingers intertwined in a nervous twitch as you rub your fingers together. He smiles, his suit hanging off him loosely as he walks towards you. “You look perfect. That’s my girl.” You relish in the compliment, your eyes flutter shut and he kissed you on the forehead, smoothing your hair after he disturbs it.

“You can put those black heels back on, I love how they make your ass look, but I better not catch anyone else looking.” You’re grateful to wear the heels, not really wanting to wear flats of sneakers to a work after party. You check your watch, you were running late now, you had to get there. “Are we ready to go?” Ben hums in return and slightly pushes on the small of your back to get you moving, you almost trip on the fraying carpet of the bedroom.

When you get into the car, the aircon is blasting in your face, the music is too quiet and you wish you had something to focus on that would take the nerves away. You decide on smoothing your dress over and over in an attempt to calm yourself.

“What are our social rules? Tell me babe.” You knew this was coming, the rules he’d set every time you’d go to a public function together, in which you reasoned, he just wanted to keep you safe, he didn’t want to be seen with a slob.

“1. No swearing or cursing. 2. No hanging out with guys without you. 3. No getting stupid drunk.”

He looks at you with pride in his eyes and offers you a lopsided grin. “There’s my good girl.” You feel yourself smiling, cheeks hurting as you force the grin, all you want to do is make him happy, proud of you.

When you get to the event his eyes are watchful of the people around you, his hand immediately meets your ass as he leads you around like his award winning show animal.

The noise from inside the club is booming from outside, you come across your security guard from work and he greets you. “Good evening miss, sir. Enjoy the night.” He winks playfully and you smile at the tall man, “thank you Simon, be seeing you!” Your boyfriend scoffs from beside you and your smile drops, not wanting to annoy him already, you had just gotten here.

The music was loud inside the club, the lights were colourful and the speed in which they move around began to hurt your sensitive eyes. When you move into the dance floor, a familiar voice comes through the speaker. “Here’s the women that made it all happen, everyone give her a round of applause.” The DJ pointed to you and you flush red, bashful all of a sudden as your work colleagues cheer for you. You wave in a thanks and you’re about to keep moving when your co-owners stand on the stage, baring teeth as they grin at you, the music has stopped now and Ben pulls you to him roughly with his arm around your waist.

“Thanks to this lovely lady, for pushing us to make the game so special to us into a tv show, which has been shown so much love in return and unspeakable success, without you we would have found our new family.” You’re crying at the speech Andy and Jason are giving, and you thank the gods your make up is waterproof.

“We want to give you the pleasure of inviting you back to our VIP area with a few more special guests in our team tonight, what do you say?” The room goes quiet and you’re cheering, nodding yes. How could you refuse that offer, Ben stands beside you however is furious, you hadn’t consulted him, you had publicly embarrassed him as he had not been invited, he wouldn’t be allowed in. What were you trying to do, get away from him? Not going to happen.

“You’re not fucking going in there, I can’t protect you in there.” His hand is on your wrist and you wince, pulling away from his grip as Andy and Jason come over, eyeing the two of you before leading you away, “come on, let’s get this started hm?” Jason stays behind, feeling the first hand anger of your boyfriend being embarrassed, “sorry man, no plus ones.” He held his hand out to stop him and walked off, unaware of the holes Ben was burning in the back of his head. You turn around and mouth ‘I’m sorry’ but by the look in his eyes as he watches the men lead you away, you’d fucked up, badly.

You turn to the men, anxiety clawing up the back of your throat, “hey Um, maybe I should go, you know.” The men look at each other and shake their head, “absolutely not.” Andy huffs. “You’re coming with us, pretty lady.” Jason compliments. That would only get you in even more trouble.

The VIP area was stunning, there was one giant lounge that was in the shape of a half circle, the dark red velvet felt amazing as you graze your fingers over it, a large chestnut wooden table sits in the middle. The people who already are seated, stand up to greet you. First is Bella Ramsey, you pull them into you, squeezing them before you let go. “You look beautiful you know.” You shrug it off caustically, “and you look handsome.” Your fingers run across the blue suit they wear, the blue brighter than your own dress but still looked like you dressed to match.

Next was Anna Torv, her long blonde hair sits on her shoulders, you smile as you see her, you’re both mock screaming as she pulls you into her. Your chin rests on her shoulder, in your heels you’re almost as tall as her without. “It’s so great to see you, you’re looking stunning.” She gives you a once over once she pulls back, looking you up and down before smacking your ass. “How have things been with Ben?” You sigh, people knew things weren’t great but was the only one who spoke of it.

“He’s upset I came in here, I dunno maybe it was a mistake coming at all, i just wanna forget Anna,” she grins, “then we’ll make you forget hun, what’s your poison?” You hum, looking at the menu she had handed you that was sat on the table, “it’s gotta be a fruit tingle, I would die for one right now.” She walks towards the private bar and orders you a drink. The last man that’s in the room and coming towards you is Pedro Pascal, an emerald green suit clings to his broad shoulders, a black turtle neck fits him deliciously underneath, his hair is messy in a way that makes you swoon, the unruly curls and patchy beard have you swooning for the man before he even says a word to you.

“Hi I’m Pedro, it’s so wonderful to meet you again, we’ll properly this time.” You give him a lopsided smile, “it is wonderful to meet you properly. How are you enjoying your evening?” He shrugs, “I haven’t had the chance to check out the bar yet, care to join me?” You nod, “sure, Anna’s just ordered me a drink.”

When you get to the bar Anna turns to you, seeing Pedro in tow by your side, she gives you a smirk and you raise an eyebrows, giving her a look that ceases her action. “Hey pretty lady I was just coming to find you, here.” Pedro orders a whisky as he stands beside you. She hands you the drink and you sip out of the straw, stirring the ice and watching as it swirls around the glass. “Pedro, this is gonna be a great night dontcha think?” He looks at you, actually taking you all in with a slow up and down look.

He takes a sip from his glass, nodding to himself. “Yeah, it’ll be a good night.” The words left unspoken were in her company.

Hours go by and you realise you’re tipsy, you should probably stop now while you’re ahead, you’re sat between Pedro and Anna, the two are up to a whole lot of mischief when they hang out, now you’ve been dragged into it. “So you’re the beautiful lady I gotta thank for turning the game into the tv series huh? Anna told me you’re a founder of Naughty Dog.”

You shrug, your humbleness was something everyone admired. “I thought it would be awesome to see it on screen you know, I grew up playing the game and wanted to do something special with it as an adult. Keep the story alive.” Pedro sits with his legs towards you, leaning in close to listen as the music blasts over the speakers, lifting his drink to his lips as he takes a sip, his tongue licks the sticky residue off after some drips from the cup.

“I actually pushed the casting director to try and see if you’d be interested in the role when I realised you’d auditioned, I just knew we had to have you.” Your words sent Pedro’s cheeks flushing bright red, he runs a hand through his hair at your drunken confession. “So you’re the woman I have to thank for my success.” You set your drink down on a coaster on the table, your hand on Pedro’s knee as you give him a sincere look. “You’ve got no one to thank but yourself, you’re a talented actor and I’m sorry it’s taken the world this long to appreciate you and your hard work.”

Pedro thinks he fell in love then and there, he wanted to pull you into him, kiss you with all his might and take you home. But he couldn’t, he saw you walk in with some guy that’s the opposite of how he looks, blonde hair, green eyes and a slim build, there’s no way you’d find him attractive. He shoots his shot anyway; being too drunk to care about the consequences, especially not the fact you’re literally his boss. “You’re gonna be mine someday, beautiful lady. I gotta have you.” You bite your lip as you look up at him, wishing now for nothing more than to kiss him and let him take you home.

“Yeah sure, Pascal whatever you say.” You roll your eyes playfully and stand wobbly, he helps you up and holds you in place as you wipe your sweaty hands on your dress, Pedro’s flirty and charming personality was taking its toll on you.

“I better head home, it was incredible to meet you properly. Hopefully we can catch up again soon.” You smile, your face completely red as you realise how much you’ve had to drink. His face is unreadable and a beat goes by before he offers, “why don’t I take you home, just so I know you get home safe.” You turn around and look, not being able to see Ben anywhere in the general club area, you’re humming and ah’ing about what to do. “I came here with someone, I should probably wait for him.”

“Actually, your boyfriend left like an hour ago, he was super pissed about something.” Your heart drops to your stomach, fuck.

You rush to gather your things and scramble in a panic that worries Pedro. He stops you with a hand, “hey, you’re in no state to go home alone, let’s catch a cab.” Your heart rate is pounding so fast you think you might spew. “Okay.”

The cab stinks of cigarettes and cheap cologne, a bitter mix that had your gag reflex heaving, you had to fight the nausea of the car rocking back and forth not to spew in the car. Pedro rubs your shoulders as you slump into him, his hands tucking your loose strands of hair behind your ears. “Hey, keep your eyes open for me gorgeous, don’t fall asleep you’re almost home.” Home. If your home was with Ben then why did everything with Pedro feel so natural, so beautiful and seemed to be flourishing already. You sighed, you’d have to go back to Ben and he would be furious with you.

The cab comes to a halt and you open the door, turning back to Pedro, “let me walk you to your door.” Pedro offers, you shake your head, “he’s already mad I don’t-I don’t wanna make him angrier. See you around.” You offer a small smile before wobbly stepping out of the cab into the cold air, it was 12:38. The cold nipped at every crack and crevice in your body, only warming after you had climbed 3 sets of stairs to get to your apartment, the elevator was unavailable to use after 11:30pm, stupid assholes whoever made that rule.

As you get to your door, your chest is heaving, you bring your keys up to the door to unlock it and turn the key, but it doesn’t unlock, you try every key on your lenyard but it doesn’t work, he’s changed the locks; again. You start to bang on the door, not wanting to deal with his bullshit this late, you were exhausted, just wanting to go to bed. With no reply you start banging on the door more furiously, “Ben let me in!” You stand for a few more minutes and you hear shuffling, “you can find somewhere else to stay tonight, whore.” You sigh, “please ben, just let me in.” He scoffs, the sound muffled through the door, “get lost.” His footsteps shuffle away and you hit the door and yell, “fuck you!”

You race out of the building, heels in hands by the time you get to the bottom of the stairs, tears in your eyes and body freezing. You ring Anna a few times, who was by the sound of it, still at the club. She was surprised to hear you crying, but not really. “Hey An, can you come get me please? I need a place to stay tonight.” Your voice is wobbling and shaking at the cold air and the emotions you’re feeling.

“Stay where you are hun I’m coming to get you.”

You weren’t sure how long you waited before Anna shows up, Simon was driving and he got out of the car to help you up off the sidewalk, your shoes still in your hands as your feet ache from 6 flights of stairs you’d walked tonight. As Simon helps you up, you hear Ben yelling to you, cheeks red and gasping for breath. “Babe wait! Wait please.” You turn to him, a scowl on your face as you wait for him to explain himself. “Don’t leave babe please. I need you, you’re the only one that stops me from hurting myself, please don’t leave.”

You freeze, you didn’t want him to hurt himself, of course you didn’t. You were scared it would be all your fault if something did happen, that’s what made you stay as long as you did. Anna steps between you, offering a barrier between you to protect you from the manipulation, “she’s coming with me Ben.” Ben growls when you don’t come to his defence. “I’ll fucking kill myself if you leave me.” He shouts at you, “it’ll be your fault you know!” You’re sobbing and shaking into Anna as she leads you to the backseat of the car. “No wait! Babe please wait! I’m sorry I’ll change!”

Simon shoves Ben as he nears the car, a clear warning of what he’ll do to protect you. As Simon drives off you head the distant shout of, “you’re nothing without me!” You sob and Anna pulls you into her, running a hand through your hair as she shushes you, “you know none of that nonsense is true hun. I’ve got you.” She kisses the top of your head and let’s you cry into her, she feels a sense of pride when you speak through your tears, “I’m done An, I’m finally done for good.” She had never been more proud of you.

The next time Pedro sees you is nearly 10 months after your proper meeting at the work place party. You had returned to work after months in therapy and working on yourself, it had been hard work, trying to reverse all that Ben had done to you. You’d even gone to the lengths of getting a restraining order after he had followed you around town a few times, even sitting in the workplace parking lot waiting for you to finish work.

You looked different to the first time he got to know you, not by physical appearance, but you had a shine about you, you were glowing in your own warmth that had come from your hard work alone. You had been shuffling through some paperwork when Pedro had knocked on your door in the office, you’re met with a nervous Pedro, you have a gentle smile on your face and welcome him in, “please, have a seat.” He sits across from you and you set your paperwork down.

“Is everything okay?” He shuffles, “uh yeah everything’s fine, I just wanted to say it’s great to have you back.” Your heart flutters at his kindness, he was such a sweetheart. “Thank you Pedro, it’s incredible to be back, is there anything else?” You didn’t want to rush him out, in fact you loved his company, but you could tell there was something that was bothering him.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong, but I’d like to take you out for dinner, you know, on a date.” You smile at him, finally.

When you don’t reply as a beat passes he’s chuckling nervously, “sorry I said anything I must’ve-“ you stand over the desk and caress his face that’s looking up with to you with those chocolate brown orbs, full of vulnerability which makes you want him more. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask for months, of course I’ll go on a date with you.” His breath hitches when he realises how close you are, you kiss the corner of his lips and sit back down on your seat, picking your paperwork back up.

He watches you, stunned with your confidence and your actions, “pick me up from mine at 8?” Pedro nods, cutely stuttering as he agrees, “right, y-yes 8 will do perfectly!”

“Alright handsome, now get back to work.” You wink to him, “yes ma’am.” He says before leaving. Your heart is hammering so hard in your chest you’re finding it hard to focus on any paperwork. You start to wonder what the hell you’re gonna wear to dinner.

Pedro shows up at your house at 7:45pm, a punctual man is such a turn on. You’re shimmering your dress down a little bit so it sits comfortably, the red dress accentuates your body perfectly, the sweetheart neckline shows off a decent amount of cleavage without leaving nothing to the imagination, your gold heels were sparkling in the hallway light, your purse hanging off your shoulder as you answer the door. “Hey,” he says as if he’s breathless, and hands you a bouquet of flowers, he’s wearing a navy blue suit that’s unbuttoned, a white turtleneck sits comfortably underneath.

“Hi.” You greet, not hiding how obvious you are to checking him out. “You look so handsome,” you muse, taking the flowers and hold them to your chest. His cheeks flush as red as your dress, he takes your hand to lead you to his black Audi, “you look breathtaking, I’ve never felt luckier.” He opened the door for you and you sit down, carefully setting thr bowyer down at your feet, to your surprise, he leans over you and buckles your seatbelt in for you.

It drives you crazy, the smell of his natural musk mixed with cologne and his hair mousse. You have to fight the urge to bite the flesh on his neck to claim him as your own.

The radio is quiet as he drives to your location, the gps interrupting the song playing as it directs Pedro to take a right at the next set of traffic lights, he’s still beside you, looking like he’s fighting himself internally. You reach over and set a gentle hand on his thigh, that seems to relax him as he takes the right turn, his hand rests on top of yours as you encourage him to relax.

“You have arrived at your destination.”

The building was fancy; that was an understatement. It was a large building, what you can only assume are thousands of bricks and large open windows, the parking is exclusive and he picks a spot that he reserved, having to punch his reservation number into the device before the gates opened for him to enter.

“Thank you, such a gentleman.” You compliment as he opens the door for you. He readjusts his suit jacket, nerves getting the best of him as he locks his car as you walk towards the entrance of the building. You feel the ghost of his hand on the small of your back, as if he’s scared to actually touch you.

The interior of the building was beyond what you could’ve imagined, the lighting was dim; romantic. The music was quiet and the building was completely empty; had he rented out this whole thing? Just for you? The first man you meet is dressed in a suit, “welcome, Mr Pascal, please join us at our finest table.” He leads you away from the main area, into a reserved room which was stylishly decorated with balloons, rose petals and two tall candles on the table.

“Oh Pedro, you didn’t do this all for me did you?” He pulls your seat out for you and sits across from you, “it’s too much isn’t it? I knew I was going overboard. I’m sorry.” You frown at him, your hand caressing his own on the table, the silk tablecloth was gentle on your fingertips. “Pedro, listen to me sweetheart I’m only going to say this once.” His brown orbs meet yours, worried about what might come from your mouth.

“I like you, I have for a long time, okay? Whatever we do together I’m happy with. We could’ve went to McDonalds and I would’ve had a great time with you. No matter where we are or what we do. Now unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders handsome.” He obeys you, you see him visibly relax at your orders and he gives you a bashful look, he’s trying not to apologise. “Thank you, I just-after everything you’ve been through. I wanted it to be perfect.”

Your heart aches at his sweet confession, the words stick to your heart like thick honey. “Oh Pedro, it’s always been you sweetheart. You are perfect for me, perfect to me.”

The waiter comes with the first course, you hum in delight at the taste that tingles on your tastebuds.

“You know, Anna was the one that pushed me to ask you out, she knew I wanted to I was just-spineless I guess.” You laugh, of course she did.

“She’s been rooting for us since that night at the club, I don’t blame her. Look at us.”

The second entree is delivered to you, as well as the waiter offering wine in which you accept, you both opting for red. You sip on your red wine as you pick at your food, talking and eating in between bites.

“You know I’ve had a crush on you ever since game of thrones, how could I not, are you kidding. Oberyn Martell was the love of my life as a young adult.” Pedro laughs at that, the crows feet by his eyes are endearing to you. The sound of his laugh is like the sweetest symphony you’ve ever heard.

“He’s everything I want to be, the sexiest guy ever.” You can’t contain the smile that breaks on your lips, “please, have you seen yourself? Every person on the internet right now wants Daddy Pascal.”

The sultriness of your voice wasn’t meant to be that-sexual. It had just slipped out-kind of. Pedro was cut off by the main course arriving, the smell was delightful and tasted even better with the accompaniment of the wine.

“What do you think of the whole daddy thing?” He asks, it’s not a question you’re expecting to come from him. You nearly choke on your food from laughing, you carefully swallow the food, the fullness becoming more and more with every bite, you were thankful the last course was dessert.

“I think it’s sexy.” You deadpan, honesty is the best policy right?! He spits his wine into his napkin, obviously not expecting that to come from your lips.

“I don’t have daddy issues, if that’s what you’re wondering. I just think it’s sexy that you embrace it, like you’re a dad for all the people out there that don’t have a good father figure. I think it’s sexy because I can imagine how good of a father you would be to your own children.”

Pedro watches you, dumbstruck, completely and utterly in love with you, without a doubt you are meant for him. The waiter clears your table, returning a few minutes later with dessert, the last course.

You sit in comfortable silence, you don’t mind that he didn’t say anything back, it’s a lot to take in and process and maybe you could’ve been crossing a line-but you wanted to be completely honest with him about your feelings.

“I think I love you.” He sputters out, “no.” He nearly shouts, earning a confused look from you, “I know I love you. God I want you to be mine.” His fingers are tapping on the table in a nervous stim, trying to draw the nerves away from his mouth and anything stupid he might say.

“I’m yours sweetheart.” It’s everything he wants to hear, you waltz over to him, sit on his lap sideways and play with the curls on the nape of his neck, “I’m yours Pedro.” He leans forward and brushes your lips together softly. You pull away after a few seconds and his pupils are blown out, dopamine flowing through the two of you creates a high you’ve never felt.

His fingers trace the hem of your dress, tickling your thigh which emits a low groan from you, “you’re gonna be mine forever right?” He already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear it. His fingers dance up your thigh, kissing your shoulder as he looks at you through his dark lashes. “Yeah baby, ‘m all yours, forever.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal rpf #boyfriend Pedro pascal #Anna torv #Bella Ramsey #pedro pascal fic

643 notes · View notes

ninyard · 2 months

Note

some hc about Aaron & Matt's friendship 🥹

i feel like when Aaron found out that Andrew drugged Matt for his sake he might've spoken to Matt, maybe to apologise, maybe not, but just to say something.

imagine feeling like your brother doesn't give a shit about you, thinking that you're not even on his radar of people worth caring about, and then you find out that he did that? that he did what he did to you, but so much worse, to someone you hardly even know? and not only that, but he did it for you?

picture Matt, in Abby's place, sick and pale, sleeping most of the time when he's not a crying, sweating mess. he apologises to Abby constantly, sorry for how he looks, how he smells, how violently ill he is because of Andrew. tensions are high everywhere, people are disappointed and angry, and nobody knows how to treat the situation. are we angry at Andrew? are we angry at Matt, for taking the drugs in the first place? are we disappointed that this even happened at all?

and Aaron knocks on the door, a shy and hesitant rap of his knuckles on wood, and when he steps in the room, it takes Matt a second to realise it's Aaron, not Andrew. he doesn't even know the twins well enough yet to tell the difference, but Aaron's wearing something that shows he's not wearing the arm bands. so he knows it's Aaron.

"you don't have to be here," Matt croaks, his voice hoarse from disuse, raw from the acid of his stomach that has stayed mostly empty over the last few days. "sign a get well soon card like the rest of them."

"you look rough." Aaron says, an observation that gets a weak laugh from Matt. "how do you feel?"

"about as good as you can imagine," Matt shuffles up in the bed, and covers his mouth to try and stop a wave of nausea that hits him as he moves. Aaron looks away, seeing himself in the bed, knowing how this feels. "let's skip this part, man. i'm too tired. what do you want?"

maybe Aaron can't say it, he doesn't know the right words, maybe he doesn't even know for certain that Andrew did it for him at all. but he knows, of course he does. why else would he? Aaron looks at him, he looks at the circles around his eyes, the sweat on his forehead, and the for-now empty puke bowl on the bedside table.

Aaron wasn't even sure why he came in the first place. Abby stopped him outside, just barely knowing his history with drugs, and told him that Matt was not a pretty sight - it was hard to see, hard to look at. she told him not to go in, to leave it another day or two, or even until Matt could bare to stand up to leave her apartment. does Matt know? was he told? is he going to hate Aaron now, more than he already does, if he tells him why he thinks Andrew has put him in this position? will Matt even believe him if he tells him that he gets it? is it even worth the breath it'd take to say i'm sorry?

maybe Aaron thinks about opting for something else - some support in the way of an i get it, or an it's going to be okay, while knowing that's the last thing he would've wanted to hear in Matt's position. Aaron knows he would've told anyone that offered their shitty, meaningless words of support to him in that position to fuck off and mind their own business, but instead Matt sits there, and he waits, and he listens.

"Andrew didn't do it to kill you," he says, not even the words that he meant to say at all. "he doesn't care about you enough to bother."

"i know." Matt says, and Aaron looks at him like he's not sure how he can be so certain. "but he didn't do it for himself, either, did he?"

does sorry even feel like enough? would Aaron's empathy and understanding be meaningful at all, as Matt lay there, his energy sapped and his brain not working as it should?

i think regardless of how that conversation goes, or where it happens, or how it happens, Matt and Aaron have some sort of understanding between them - Matt is angry that Andrew did this for Aaron, that it was Aaron's fault, in a way, that this happened to him, but he knows it wasn't Aaron's choice. he sees that guilty look in his eyes as he walks into that room, and knows that Aaron had nothing to do with what happened that night. Aaron knows that Matt doesn't blame him, and he gets it - maybe. maybe Matt sees how sick Aaron looks as he looks back at him, how his mouth is downturned in an uncomfortable frown that he poorly tries to hide. maybe if Aaron did apologise, on his own behalf, on Andrew's behalf, maybe Matt wouldn't even accept it anyway. because he knows what temptation can do, he knows what seeing an addict does to an addict. he knows why Andrew did it, if anything else, and he knows why Aaron needed him clean.

i don't know where this is going, really, but i just wonder if they ever spoke about it - if Aaron ever approached Matt in those early days, if they ever understood each other in such a way that knows why they both lay or stood in the positions that they did. just a thought.

#aaron and matt i think about you often #and your friendship is more than just what happened to you both #but its a damn interesting start #thats for sure #ask

31 notes · View notes

fulcrumredeemed · 17 days

Text

[Bacalar, Mexico: 1996, October N/A] Ahsoka Tano, a mutant that was on the run, as many many with visible mutations did and boy was at least on of her mutations visible. Standing 5'9, if her X-gene hadn't caused her hair to be replaced with two tendril-like appendages that draped down in front of her and on in that hung down the back of her neck, that were connected to two large horns that protruded from her skull that pointed up and slightly to either side of Ahsoka's head. All of this had its own layer of skin that was different than the rest of the mutant's orange-ish brown skin color, they where a cream-ish white color with stripes, that resembled those of a tiger, that were a mix of a cobalt-blue and a gunmetal grey, or at least that is the color that her tiger-stripes were currently. When these appendages first appeared on her and Ahsoka had noticed the stripes she immediately, and forever, decided to call them her tiger stripes. They helped give Ahsoka a kind of extra sensory ability, sensing the movement of things around her up to 84 feet, giving her an almost echo location like ability and these were only her visible mutations, she had many more. It had been about five years since Ahsoka had left Kamar Taj to go out on her own, on a pilgrimage, to see and explore the world, it hadn't been easy. Ahsoka had seen first hand the bigotry and hate that the world had to offer, especially to those who were different and even despite the help that she offered those around her. She soon went into hiding, wearing a cloak over her horns and staying away from major cities, or prominent countries for that matter, still helping those that she could on the way. Ahsoka had decided that she was interested in going to the United States, to meet the X-men. Other mutants, like herself, and ones that wanted to help people at that, like herself. Using the effects of one of her other mutations, Telepathy, Ahsoka put suggestions, into the heads of a boat headed for Mexico, making it so that those on the boat could not see her, or notice her existence. She didn't like doing this and usually only used it to get away from anti-mutant bigots, but this was going to be a long trip and she didn't have the money to pay them or know if she could trust them while they were all trapped on a space in the middle of the ocean. Stepping off of the boat and onto a dock at the very, very, tiny Mexican port town of Bacalar, Ahsoka was met with the sight of the bright blue oceans behind her, white beaches, and a beautiful back drop of mangroves, palm trees going into a tropic jungle. Good! This will do great for now, at least until she can make her way up to New York and the X-men. She walked forward, off the dock to find out how she could get a hut, and was hit with a wave of psychic energy. There was someone else here that her telepathy, that was interesting. Another mutant more than likely. Friend of foe was yet to be seen, even if she didn't sense and malice or ill intent towards anyone from this individual. Putting the feeling aside and decided it might be better to psychically shield herself for the time, at least until she meets this person and finds out if they can be trusted, Ahsoka headed towards what seemed to be the main part of this little village, seeing people working, weaving baskets, running stalls and shops, weaving clothes and other cloth material. No one paid Ahsoka any mind, and she didn't even have to psychically suggest anything, that was good, if not at least a little lonely, but it was safe. Ahsoka stopped in the middle of the little bazar and looked around to see if there was a place that looked like it would be able to answer her inquiries about a place to live here in Bacalar, Mexico.

@@all0fusstars

#marilyn monroe #marilyn monroe mutant oc #all0fusstars #ahsoka tano #ahsoka tano marvel au #closed starter

22 notes · View notes

unremarkablehouse · 1 month

Text

From Here to Maternity

MSR | PG | WC 2100 | AO3

Summary: Domestic Partners series. Pregnancy was an evolution in their Partnership and they both enjoyed each new facet as it emerged, creating different routines and rituals to deal with the major life changes. Ch1, Ch2, Ch3

Tagging: @today-in-fic

Mulder had it on good authority that he wasn’t ‘father material’. Every ex-girlfriend had told him as much; he was too obsessed with work and his own pursuits to put the needs of a child ahead of himself. On finding Scully heavily pregnant after his return to the living, Mulder was so struck by the harsh truth of how much the world had moved on without him that he wondered if the baby would have been better off if he’d remained dead. Not wanting to upset Scully with his thoughts he pushed her away until he could find the right words to make her understand how deeply ill equipped he would be as a parent to their child. So, on that first night out of the hospital he slept in a bed that smelt like her, but instead of bringing him comfort, it exasperated his feelings of desolation. Mulder’s sleep was fitful, filled with a montage of the horrors he’d tried to repress. When the pain and torture reached its inevitable crescendo Mulder jolted awake, her name echoing in his ears. Screaming out ‘Scully’ to the void while ensconced in terror and pain had become so familiar to Mulder that he shattered this time when he actually heard a response. It was his name, said quietly in her steadying voice. Scully was there and just maybe he was going to be okay. Without a word she moved into his bed, stroking his hair as he laid on her chest and wept. In the back of his mind Mulder remembered a time years ago when Scully had returned from the hospital. He’d slept on her couch that first night and when he heard her scream his name he held her in bed until she calmed. What time Scully had shown up to his apartment on that first night home Mulder did not know, but he was grateful she understood what he needed more than he did. It was at that moment he realized that he trusted Scully’s judgment over anyone else’s (including his own), and she had chosen him to father her child. Whatever inadequacies and anxieties he’d been feeling began to fade as she held him close as he started to embrace the idea of his new family.

A tinge of sadness and concern followed Scully through both pregnancies. From her first pregnancy she learnt to compartmentalize the grief and concern, summoning a strength to believe and hope for the future of her children. It was Mulder who grounded her, thoughts of him and his indomitable spirit, and then his actual presence. Pregnancy was an evolution in their Partnership and they both enjoyed each new facet as it emerged, creating different routines and rituals to deal with the major life changes.

The first time Scully had reached the point in her pregnancy when she could no longer shave her own legs, the weather turned unseasonably warm and she longed to wear her maternity skirts and dresses. Mulder had been back from the dead for less than a week and made the mistake of asking if she needed help with anything else after changing a lightbulb in her apartment. She’d been half joking when she’d asked, things between them were still ambiguous, but he agreed with such enthusiasm she decided to take him up on the offer to help shave her legs.

It only occurred to her at the start of the shower that Mulder hadn’t truly seen her naked since his return. The changes to her body were so dramatic and she braced herself for his inevitable grimace when he viewed her new stretch marks or heavy belly. Sitting on a shower chair Scully watched as Mulder’s eyes traveled over her in wonder, his arousal evident but respectful, and no sign of anything but adoration in his eyes. With a shy grin Mulder grabbed some shaving gel and meticulously lathered up one leg, massaging his way down her leg. With care and reverence he carefully guided the razor down her legs, ensuring each section was smooth and didn’t have any nicks or cuts. No one else had ever shaved her legs before, and this was not something she’d ever think to ask of anyone else but Mulder. The sheer intimacy of the act transcended any level she’d known before.

Looking up at her with his hazel eyes, wet hair, and an impish grin, Scully saw the same Fox Mulder she’d stood in the rain with so many years ago. Helping her up from the shower chair she brought him in for a hug, enjoying the feel of his body against hers. Just when she thought her heart couldn’t be any more full he spoke, “you’re so beautiful it hurts,” punctuating his words with a kiss to the top of her head.

“And your boobs are huge,” breaking their embrace Mulder moved his body back so he could get a better view.

“Thought you might appreciate them,” Scully replied with a laugh, always disarmed by her goofball.

With such care Mulder helped her out of the shower and insisted on helping her towel off, despite her half hearted claims that she was entirely capable of doing it herself. She yielded and let him assist, unable to resist his enthusiasm as he playfully caressed her body with the towel.

For the rest of her pregnancy Mulder took it as an important chore, always making her feel worshiped as he lavished attention on her legs and cared for her in a way she could never entrust to anyone else.

Years later, as they awaited the birth of their second child, Mulder immediately took it upon himself to assist with shaving Scully’s legs. While it truly wasn’t necessary for him to aid her during the first and second trimester, Scully never denied his help. Allowing someone to help her and even pamper her was not one of Scully’s strong suits. Perhaps this act became a metaphor for a new dynamic to their partnership; or maybe it was the sexual gratification Mulder enthusiastically bestowed on her after shaving her legs that cemented this positive reinforcement. The intimacy and closeness only grew the second time around and helped soothe the anxiety surrounding the birth.

Sleeping next to a pregnant Scully was an experience unlike any Mulder could describe. The first time sharing a bed with her, Mulder was careful with his hands, resting them gently on her hip as if afraid of her stomach. Then suddenly a switch was flipped and he found his favorite sleeping position was with his hand over her belly, protecting his family. From the moment he found out about their second miracle Mulder’s hand took residence on her stomach and stayed there the entire pregnancy. Every night it felt like his own vow to be there for Scully and the baby, a promise he couldn’t keep the first time around, but grateful for this second chance.

Mulder didn’t quite understand the link between the duration of Scully’s pregnancy and the number of pillows she required to sleep comfortably but somehow the number was exponential. During her first pregnancy Mulder had assumed the volume of pillows had something to do with missing him. He felt pride when he replaced her large body pillow, her knee between his legs for support. Years later he learnt better of it as odd shaped pillows started appearing on the bed and she struggled to get comfortable.

Another fun fact Mulder learnt about pregnant Scully was the further on she got in her pregnancy the louder she snored. The first time he’d heard the snore Mulder was convinced that a fork had been stuck in the garbage disposal or a monster truck was crushing cars outside the apartment. He couldn’t believe that those ferocious sounds actually emanated from her tiny body. Mulder resisted the urge to tease her about her chainsaw snoring because he noticed that her periods of sleep were always short lived, needing to get up to pee at frequent intervals. Nap time became a regular routine with the pair, falling asleep on her couch together or at his apartment. At first Scully attributed Mulder joining in on her nap time to his body still recovering. During her second pregnancy she wondered if Mulder was napping with her because he had slowed down or just wanted some additional time with her before the baby arrived. Never in a million years would Mulder admit the reason was because her snoring and constant bathroom trips were interfering with his sleep.

To Mulder’s disappointment Scully didn’t seem to have any particularly unusual cravings during either pregnancy. No pickles and peanut butter or any other weird pregnancy concoctions he could tend to. The list of foods she couldn’t eat because of listeria seemed to triple between pregnancies and Mulder began questioning whether anyone should be eating prepackaged salads and the like. The only food that remained a constant between pregnancies was Scully’s love of ice cream. Mulder wasn’t quite sure if it counted as a craving or just an indulgence she’d allowed herself since getting pregnant. Either way he made sure to have the freezer stocked with ice cream at all times and had hidden emergency mini pints in the back in case they ran out. Rocky road and choc mint were on heavy rotation, eaten straight out of the tub and shared with Mulder. Scully called him an enabler because of the way he always kept her well stocked in ice cream but her big smile whenever he brought out their snack only solidified his resolve. Much to Mulder’s amusement both children became very active whenever Scully ate something cold. Their son kicked up a storm after every ice cream date, while their daughter seemed to dance and squirm about. Eating ice cream and waiting for their kids to move about in her womb became Mulder’s favorite pregnancy ritual and he wondered if it was really him who had the ice cream cravings.

For both pregnancies they attended birthing classes together, and Mulder was always the star pupil. Scully was proud of the way he seemed to have read everything he could on pregnancy and child rearing, investing hours of research the way he previously reserved for paranormal phenomenas. The other women in the classes swooned over his devotion and interest in the birth of his child, however his focus never wavered from Scully. It was much to his surprise when the instructor at the infant CPR asked him out on a date while he went over to ask questions after her class. Sensing his discomfort Scully was by his side and promptly informed the instructor that Mulder was married so he wouldn’t be up for dating anyone else. With a huge grin Mulder nodded in affirmation and left the class delighted that their ambiguous relationship status was resolved.

Mulder had never really thought about having sex with a pregnant woman before Scully, but there was something so incredibly alluring about Scully that drove him crazy. He was struck with awe at how much she looked like some ancient fertility goddess the first time he saw her naked after his return. At first he was terrified to make love to her, scared he’d induce labor or accidentally hurt her. Scully was pleased to verify that his research was correct and that when a mother orgasms it actually relaxes the fetus and can be incredibly beneficial for them both. Mulder delighted in the changes to her body, kissing every inch of her and relishing in the way her essence seemed to have become more concentrated with pregnancy.

Throughout her second pregnancy Scully was insatiable and Mulder couldn’t remember a time that he’d ever had so much sex. Selfishly he wished she’d remain pregnant for longer, knowing that once the baby got there the chances for romance would dramatically decrease. It was Scully who vocalized his insecurities one afternoon while they were both spooning naked and satiated. As much as she was excited to have their child, she was going to miss it just being them. Maybe it was the admission of how much their time together meant to Scully, but in that moment all of Mulder’s insecurities about the changes to their relationship ceased. With their second child on the way Mulder’s parental anxieties were centered around his age and being an old dad. He no longer feared his parenting abilities, knowing with certainty that he was destined to make mistakes, but now he was part of a team. As Scully’s snores reverberated through his body, he knew this was just another adventure they’d go through together and he couldn’t wait for their family to grow.

#the x files #txf #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #Pregnant Scully #txf fanfic #xf fanfic

30 notes · View notes