#like you could never tell he sounds completely effortless

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

Anyways, this fandom really needs to stop sleeping on the Barneston duets. "Take Me Back" is heart-breaking and gorgeous (sorry I don't make the rules), "Do You Want to Play" is so atmospheric and creepy, and Kim and Dylan sound absolutely amazing together, like what more could we ask for? Next week's lottery numbers embedded in the lyrics??

[heartsandhischier]

"You slept with who?"

nico hischier x reader

summary - 1.5k words. trying to escape an awkward encounter after a one night stand, emphasise on trying

author's note - in my head nico is such a sweetheart no matter the situation, and NO ONE can tell me otherwise. i will protect this man with my life!

warnings - slight reference to the devils tango (ig), swearing

As the morning sun tiptoed through the parted curtains, it painted the room in a soft glow, awaking you from a restless slumber. A throbbing headache served as your unwelcome alarm, joining forces with the sunlight to assault your senses. You pulled the covers over your head, seeking refuge from the discomfort, suddenly hit by an unfamiliar scent – cologne. With a jolt, you sat up, struggling to pry your heavy eyelids apart as you looked around the room. This wasn’t your bedroom.

Where the fuck am I?

Alone in the unfamiliar bed, you took a moment, attempting to piece together the puzzle of your surroundings. The room was clean, neat, the owner clearly a tidy person. Despite the overall cleanliness, scattered trinkets and personal belongings were scattered along the space, giving it a sense of lived-in comfort – a curated chaos. 

Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze fell upon the floor, a scattered array of clothing formed a path from the bedroom door to the bed. With a hesitant rise from the mattress, a sudden realization washed over you – you were completely naked.

Remnants of the previous streamed through your mind. Recollections of hitting the club with your girlfriends flooded back, the taste of margaritas still lingering on your lips. The thumping bass and flashing lights of the club replayed in your mind, each memory accompanied by the relentless pounding in your head.

As your feet met the floor, your head pulsed with every beat, you had to get out of here. This wasn’t your typical scene – you weren’t accustomed to waking up in unfamiliar beds after nights of festivities. And when these rare occurrences did happen, you never stayed long, avoiding any potential awkward encounters with one-night stands. Hastily you collected your belongings, attempting to look just a bit more presentable as you assessed your disheveled reflection in the full-length mirror. Panic set in as you realized your heels were missing – likely abandoned somewhere in the entrance hallway.

You peeked your head past the bedroom door, checking if the coast was clear. No one in sight. You kept your head low as you tiptoed along the corridor. Your heart raced with each step, the uncertainty of encountering the apartment’s owner weighing down on your consciousness. Lost in your haste, a collision abruptly halted your escape.

Fuck

As water splattered and your belongings scattered across the floor, the jarring sound of shattering glass pierced your ears. Before your bare feet could melt into the broken shards, a pair of strong arms caught you, preventing a painful misstep. A heavy silence settled over the room as you couldn’t bear to meet the eyes of the stranger. “Are you okay?” His voice was thick with an accent you couldn’t quite pinpoint, breaking through the tension. Unable to muster a response, you offered a timid apology, keeping your eyes trained on the floor as you began to gather your scattered belongings. Finally standing upright, you mustered the strength to meet the stranger’s gaze. Warm brown eyes met yours, framed by a freshly-trimmed beard and tousled brown locks – a picture of effortless charm, even in the disarray of early morning wakefulness.

You were lost in his eyes for a moment. He must have noticed as he let out a small chuckle, “I’m sorry for ruining your escape. I was just trying to get you a glass of water.” he explained with a soft smile, gesturing toward the now-spilled contents polled on the floor amidst the shattered glass. 

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you watched him bend down to collect the scattered glass. It seemed like a series of unfortunate events had led you to this moment – waking up in a stranger’s apartment, breaking a glass meant for you during your escape, and now, standing awkwardly as he cleaned up your mess. What made it even worse was that you didn’t even know his name. 

An uneasy silence hung in the air as he continued to tidy up. "So... last night was fun?" his smile genuine despite the situation. You could only manage a sheepish smile and a polite nod in response, feeling utterly mortified. He chuckled at your response, tossing the broken glass into the trash.

Once he finished cleaning up, he approached you again with a fresh glass of water in hand. Dressed in a black t-shirt neatly tucked into a pair of gym shorts, you couldn’t help but notice the definition of his muscles peeking through the fabric. You politely accepted the glass of water with trembling hands. Taking a hesitant sip, the cool water provided some relief to your throbbing headache.

His laughter broke through the tension as he observed your state. “You don’t remember my name, do you?” he teased, causing your cheeks to flush even deeper. You stammered out an awkward apology, feeling like you couldn’t sink any lower in embarrassment. 

“It’s alright, happens to the best of us,” he reassured you, his voice gentle and understanding. “Since it seems we’re both in need of a little memory jog, how about we start fresh? Hi I’m Nico,” he introduced himself with a mock bow. 

You felt a smile tug at your lips, appreciating Nico’s effort to lighten the mood – definitely not the reaction you’d expected after the awkwardness of being caught trying to escape his apartment. “Nice to meet you Nico, I am Y/N,” you gave him a small courtesy, mirroring his playfulness. His laughter was infectious, melting away the tension that had gripped you moments before. It was amazing how quickly his easygoing demeanor put you at ease.

“I would’ve offered you breakfast, but I have to head out to practice,” Nico explained with a smile, his warm brown eyes meeting yours. “Early morning practice after a night out, wow, you’re a fighter,” you teased, genuinely impressed by his dedication given your own current state. 

"Well, gotta do what you gotta do when you're captain," he replied with a grin, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "But I can offer you a ride home on the way.”

-

“YOU SLEPT WITH NICO HISCHIER?!” Sarah’s voice was a mixture of shock and excitement, drawing the attention of nearby patrons in the cafe. You hastily gestured for her to lower her voice, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

Sarah’s hand shot to her mouth covering it, quickly scanning her surroundings she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You slept with Nico Hischier!?” her eyes were wide with excitement, barely able to contain herself.

“I didn’t know!” you chuckled, shrugging in amusement. “Yeah, that’s because you’re boring and don’t watch sports!” Sarah teased. “He’s literally the captain of the New Jersey Devils!” Sarah exclaimed, her arms waving around excitedly. 

“How was it? Was it good?” Sarah fired off questions, her curiosity barely giving you enough time to answer. You laughed, trying to keep up with her rapid-fire interrogation. “You tell me,” you replied, taking a sip of your coffee. “I don’t remember, I mean, I didn’t even remember his name!”

Sarah’s eyes widened in realization. “You have to meet him again,” she urged, the sudden weight of missed opportunity sinking in. You groaned – you didn’t get his number. With a defeated sigh, you explained the predicament to Sarah.

“We’ll just have to go back to the club. tonight. “

-

The club pulsed with energy, red lights casting an enticing glow over the throngs of dancing bodies. Sarah and the girls were lost in the music, their laughter mingling with the bass thumping through the air. Despite their best efforts to drag you to the dancefloor, your attention remained divided, your gaze drifting to the entrance in hopes of spotting those familiar brown eyes.

It was a long shot, you knew, but it was worth trying. Why hadn’t you thought of exchanging numbers? You sighed, taking a sip of your amaretto sour. Amidst the chaos of the club, your purse buzzed incessantly, drawing you out of your thoughts. Fishing out your phone, you were met with an unknown number flashing on the screen. Normally, you wouldn't answer such calls, but tonight, emboldened by the alcohol coursing through your veins, you pressed the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” you shouted into the phone, hoping to be heard above the chaos of the club.

“I can see you're looking for me,” the voice on the other end replied, laced with the same thick accent. Your head snapped up, scanning the club for the source of the voice. And there he was, standing by a table surrounded by a group of guys you could only make out to be his teammates. His warm brown eyes locked onto yours, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gave you a small wave. A surge of relief and excitement washed over you as you realized you hadn’t lost your chance after all. You couldn’t help but smile, you probably exchanged numbers during your drunken encounter, lucky for you. 

With a grin plastered on your face, you made your way through the pulsating crowd. The warmth of his presence drawing you closer, as the pulsating rhythm of the club faded into the background.

“Hey stranger,” you playfully smiled. “Ready for round two?”

[fallow-hollow]

Hiii I am Dying of nervousness sending in a request for the first time but could I get Mithrun and a gn!reader? Nothing else needs to be specific, just that (sorry if I am making it difficult for you ^^')

body heat

…ft! mithrun x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, post-canon, spoilers for manga and ending, established relationship, cuddling

…word count! 955

…notes! don’t see a lotta mithrun content out there, so i’m happy to write for him! i hope this meets your expectations anon!!

“Mithruuuun,” you whined, unable to see your lover even when looking over your shoulder. “C’mere with me and light the fire already, it’s so cold in here.”

Mithrun shot you a glance from where he stood a distance away, despite the fact that you couldn’t return it. “Is it? I can’t tell.”

His flat tone of voice made it even more obvious that the elf truly knew nothing of the agony you were experiencing, imbuing you with a sense of lighthearted frustration. Tossing your head back, you would groan,

“Of course you can’t tell, you’d wear a flowy tunic even if it was a blizzard outside! Now come help me!”

Without as much of a sound to warn you, the man suddenly appeared at your side, causing you to both jump and squeak from the spontaneous nature of his movement. Scratch that, knowing him, it was probably teleportation. Hardly necessary, considering how close you were, but you wouldn’t put it past your lover to do such a thing just to scare you. What a tease…..

“I don’t mind helping you, but sometimes I do wonder if you choose not to do it on your own just to spend time with me.”

Now, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for Mithrun to say something like this completely genuinely, but the ghost of a smirk gracing those gorgeous features of his let you know that he was most certainly poking fun at you right now. He could be so arrogant sometimes… not that you truly minded.

Ever since Mithrun had recently retired to live with you in the still fledgling Golden Country, you’d noticed him start to become ever so slightly livelier at times. In the past, he’d always said he was grateful that you didn’t meet him when he was so pompous and flippant, but to you, a few snarky remarks here and there didn’t bother you at all. If anything, it meant that he could reclaim his old self while also embracing the new, which made a hopeful prospect for your shared future.

While you were in the process of pondering these feelings, the man beside you went right ahead with his magic. Though he mainly specialized in teleportation magic, any self-respecting member of the Canaries, former or otherwise, knew how to do something as simple as create some flame. The firewood you’d piled up caught almost instantly, creating a blaze that was perfect in both size and temperature.

“Thank you.” You acknowledged him with a nod, figuring that was all he would do. It seemed that Mithrun had other plans, however, judging by his choice to lift up one end of your blanket and wedge himself into the space next to you. A bit confused, you shot him a glance. “I thought you said you weren’t cold?”

He hummed. “But I want to be with you.”

Want. It was such a strange word to hear from Mithrun. For the longest time, he insisted he was unable to want anything at all, aside from the burning need for vengeance. Even now, he struggled with things like eating or sleeping. So to hear that he wants you, of all things…

You did nothing to hide the smile on your face. “You always can, you big goof.”

Whenever the two of you snuggled, your lover never really knew where to put his hands. This rang just as true now, with his arms awkwardly hovering on either side of you, unsure where to grasp or hold. With an almost practiced sense of effortlessness, you guided him to wrap both arms around your waist, positioning one at a time.

For a man so strong, he was quite pliant under your touch. One could easily say that it was his own apathy causing such behavior, but on the other hand, it was nice to believe that he chose to do so of his own free will.

He certainly had no trouble plopping his head down on your shoulder, completely unbothered by the way his cheek was squished from the proximity. How could someone be so battle hardened yet so…..cute?

“You comfy?”

The elf hummed affirmatively, the sound slightly muffled by the close contact. You allowed one hand to snake behind his back and rest comfortably on his hip, meanwhile the other grasped the edge of the blanket to keep it snugly wrapped around you. Honestly, Mithrun could probably be in the strangest position imaginable and still consider himself perfectly comfortable, so you weren’t entirely sure why you asked. It just felt… nice to check in on him. Like the right thing to do, no matter how obvious his answer may be to you.

Soft crackling sounds served as the backdrop for these thoughts, all while your lover remained still and relaxed by your side, having some ponderings of his own. Without you, Mithrun often found it difficult to settle down. He was getting a little better at knowing when to rest and eat in recent days, but even at times where he was well aware of the tiredness weighing him down, it was difficult to want to rest. Especially when what he wanted even more was to wait for you.

With you, he was able to feel at ease in a way that he still struggled with for the most part. Just like that dwarf had told him, even vegetable scraps could grow anew when placed in the soil and cared for. Maybe you were the earth, and he wanted nothing more than to relax while surrounded by you. He really wasn’t great at metaphors, so he couldn’t quite tell.

Of one thing, though, he could certainly be sure.

“I think that it should get cold more often.”

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Love of a Lifetime

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You've been friends with Eddie for years and had a crush on him for months but you've always been too scared to tell him. He found out and you're scared this will be the end of the friendship but he surprises you.

18+ ONLY!

You stood, palms sweaty, breath ragged, feeling like your heart was going to shatter into a million pieces all over the floor. Eddie had overheard a conversation between you and Robin that had not been meant for his ears, a conversation where you had spilled how for the last six months you'd been in love with your best friend. It was never supposed to happen but he was so damn perfect.

No one else in your life got you like Eddie did. No one else knew exactly when you needed silence, just covering your hand with his own or placing his arm reassuringly around your shoulder. No one else knew when you needed to let loose and do stupid shit just because life got too serious and heavy. No one else knew your favorite snacks, your secret fears, your ridiculous dreams. Eddie was everything. He'd always been the one person who could make you feel safe, the one person who could calm your crazy, the one person who made everything alright.

Everything between you two had been easy forever. Being with him was effortless, like breathing and then, poof, it wasn't. Being around him became torture because you knew you loved him but you were terrified of ruining your friendship. You couldn't risk losing the most important person in your life so you tried to fight it, telling yourself it was a stupid crush. It would go away, but it didn't. And now, he was confronting you and you were waiting for your world to topple sideways.

“You’ve been battling these feelings for six months,” Eddie said, gazing down at you as you held your breath. “I’ve been battling these feelings for three years.”

“I…uh…” you began, shaking your head. He couldn’t possibly mean what you hoped he meant. This was just wishful thinking. No, there was no way. Your head was spinning, like a full on exorcist twist right now. “What?”

“Princess, I need to know if you’re sure.”

“If I’m sure?”

You couldn’t keep up. You couldn’t wrap your brain around what he was trying to say. What the hell was happening right now? You knew what you wanted to happen, but you couldn’t let yourself believe that was what was happening here. There was no way. 

Eddie stepped into you and you tried to back away, to put distance between you, but found yourself pressed against the wall of your room. Eddie’s hands came up to rest on either side of your head, trapping you in the circle of his arms. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked. “Because, I am telling you, I need you to be sure. We do this, and this is it for me. There will never be anything else or anyone else for me. If you’re sure, I am going to dive into this completely, sink into oblivion with you forever. If you’re not, then I will back off and we can go back to being friends. But either way, you are going to stay in my life.”

Your mouth hung open, your eyes watching him. Your mouth moved but no sounds were coming out. You were struggling to comprehend the words that had just come out of his mouth. 

“Princess,” he whispered, his finger gently lifting your chin as he lowered his mouth close to yours. “I need you to tell me what you want. Please, sweetheart, just say it.”

“I want you,” you breathed.

“Finally,” he groaned.

His lips crashed into yours and it felt like coming home, like sitting in front of a warm fire after spending hours in the cold, like someone turning on the light after you’d been plunged in darkness for too long. No kiss had ever felt like this. No kiss that had ever come before this mattered. You thought you had imagined how kissing Eddie would feel, but nothing you'd ever conjured in your mind could compare to this moment. 

Your fingers slid into his hair, tangling through the mahogany waves you loved so much. His hips pressed against you, pushing you against the wall. Every single inch of your bodies were touching and it still didn’t feel like enough. 

Eddie's tongue slid across your lips and you parted them, meeting it with your own. A low groan rumbled out of his chest as his fingers slid under the hem of your sweatshirt. When his fingertips, rough and calloused from years of playing guitar, met the skin of your abdomen, you sighed softly, thinking you never should have let anyone touch you that wasn’t him. His fingers danced along your ribcage as they moved ever higher. 

“Eddie…” you whispered.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, pulling his hand away.

“No,” you breathed.

He grinned, “Thank God.”

Gripping your hips, he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and carried you over to the bed, laying you back on it. This should feel weird, right? After all these years of being friends, shouldn’t the thought of being intimate with him feel uncomfortable? But it didn’t. It felt right in a way that nothing in your life ever had. It felt inevitable, as if this was always how it was meant to happen. There was not a doubt in your mind that you were ready for this, that you wanted all of him.

Eddie grabbed onto the bottom of your sweatshirt as he asked, “Is this okay?”

You nodded and lifted yourself up slightly as he pulled the fabric over your head. You bit your bottom lip, falling back on the bed and covering yourself with your arms. You were no cheerleader like the ones he'd been with before, the ones who snuck around with the freak but never wanted anyone to know. And, even though Eddie had seen you change before, this time just felt different. Was he comparing you to their perfect little figures because you knew you couldn’t compare.

“No,” he breathed, grabbing your hands and pulling them away from your chest. “Don’t do that, not with me.” He fell forward, bracing himself with his hands on either side of your head. “Princess, you are beautiful.” His lips left a blazing trail along your jaw, down the side of your neck, along your collarbone. “You are perfect.” Then his lips were following the curve of your breast, moving along the valley between them. “You are everything to me.” When his tongue flicked over your nipple, you shuddered, moaning softly. 

As his tongue danced slow, lazy circles around one nipple, his hand groped your other breast, massaging it gently. You arched up to meet him, your hand cradling the back of his head. His thumb and forefinger began to roll your other nipple before pinching it and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. 

His lips began trailing back up your body, following the same path in reverse until his mouth was right next to your ear. He pressed his hips into yours and you groaned at the sensation of his erection against your core. Jesus, you wanted this man in every single way possible. 

“Sweetheart, I have wanted this for so long,” Eddie whispered against your ear as he continued to rock his hips against yours. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him against you, matching his rhythm. “Shit…” His head fell forward and you could feel his hair brushing along her cheeks. “I want to feel every single part of you.”

He slid his body from on top of you so he was lying next to you. His arms wound around you, pulling you to him so your back was pressed against his chest. His lips pressed kisses against the back of your neck and your shoulder blade as his hand slid along your hip to your pelvis, his hand just resting there for a moment.

“I want to make you feel good. Can I touch you?” he rumbled. 

“You can do anything you want to me,” you responded, completely lost in the ecstasy that was Eddie’s hands and lips on your skin.

“Jesus,” Eddie groaned.

His fingers slid into your sweatpants and under your panties. Then they were moving through the soft curls between your legs and between the folds of skin there to find your clit. You gasped as his fingers began circling around it but not quite touching it. His lips continued pressing gentle kisses along your neck, his other hand leisurely playing with your breast.

“Eddie…” you breathed, grinding your ass against him, delighted at the sounds he made. 

“Does this feel good?” he asked, now using two fingers to apply pressure in a downward v-shape on either side of your clit. “Tell me princess. Tell me how it feels.”

“So good,” you managed, every word trembling out of you. “No one has ever made me feel this good.”

“And no one ever will,” he said, his two fingers sliding down to find your entrance, pressing into you. You moaned, your head falling back, exposing your neck further. “You’re mine now sweetheart, forever.” His lips latched onto your neck, sucking on the skin hard. His fingers curled inside of you, hitting places you didn’t know existed, didn’t know could make you feel so good. You felt his teeth gently bite down and you shrieked as your orgasm came with a vengeance, sending your entire body off balance. Your eyes rolled back in your head, every muscle shaking. Eddie didn’t let up, working you through the waves of frenzy until your body finally settled. You whimpered softly as his fingers slid from your body.

You sat up, turning, frantically pulling his shirt over his head. You needed to feel him. You had dreamed of this moment for so long. You'd waited for it to be him. This was everything you'd ever wanted. You needed to know how it felt to be as connected to him as you could be. As you grabbed onto his belt, his hands fell over yours, stopping you. 

“Princess, are you sure?” he asked, his hands coming to cup your face gently. “We don’t have to do this. I know you’ve never…I’ve been waiting for you for three years. I don’t mind waiting a little longer.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you insisted, shaking your head. “Eddie, the only reason I haven’t even been with anyone is because I’ve been waiting for it to be you. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

His eyes sparkled gently in the light coming from the window. He pulled your face to his, gently pressing his lips to yours. You worked on his belt again, sliding it from the loops and tossing it to the floor before moving to his pants.

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right,” he insisted. Standing, he removed the rest of his clothes and you marveled at the sight of him, completely bare to you. You'd seen him in nothing but boxers, but something about this, every inch of him exposed and knowing he was yours, it was an unparalleled moment.

“You’re perfect,” you whispered softly, your hand reaching out and wrapping around his cock. Eddie gasped, his head falling back at your touch. Rising to your knees, you pulled his lips back to yours, your hand moving along his length. He moaned into your mouth, his tongue exploring every inch of yours as you continued to work him in your hand.

“Princess,” he groaned, grabbing your hand. “I love the feel of you touching me but I need to be inside of you.”

Heat raced straight to your core at his words and you could feel how wet you were already becoming at the thought of finally taking the next step with the right person. This had been all you had ever dreamt of when you thought of this moment. You knew it had to be him. It would have been wasted with anyone else.

Eddie placed his hands on the bed, crawling along your body and forcing you to lie back. Slowly, he gripped your sweatpants and panties at the same time and slid them along your legs. He sat back, his eyes admiring every inch of you, from head to toe.

“Goddamn…I always knew you were beautiful,” he said, pressing his lips against your stomach, “but sweetheart, you are the most fucking perfect thing I have ever seen.”

You were certain your entire body was blazing red as you felt the flush of heat race over your skin. You had never felt more beautiful, more desired, than you did in this moment with him. He grabbed a condom from his jeans and slid it over himself before settling between your thighs. 

“Are you ready?” he asked.

You nodded and watched as Eddie slowly and gently began to press himself into you. He was being so very careful, taking his time, allowing your body time to adjust to him. You winced for a moment but only a moment. You'd done enough other things that the pain wasn’t what you'd heard about from other girls. 

“Are you okay princess?” he asked, those beautiful brown eyes full of concern. He leaned forward on his elbows, his hands gently holding your face. “We’ll take it slow, okay?”

“I’m okay…” you assured him. He began to move his hips, slowly back and forth, his length filling you and then almost leaving you before filling you once again. You adjusted slightly at the discomfort but then it was gone and all you could feel was the perfection of your two bodies becoming one. You moaned, your hands sliding along his arms to grip his shoulders. 

Eddie braced himself with his forearms, pressing his forehead against yours as he increased his pace slightly. “I want to feel everything with you, princess. It should have been you. It always should have been you.”

Tears trickled out of the sides of your eyes, running down your cheeks. You were completely overwhelmed with all of the sensations and emotions that were flooding your system. Your hands gripped the back of his head, keeping your faces close, needing to feel every part of him you could. 

His hips moved even faster, his lips planting kisses along your forehead, your eyes, your cheeks, your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your hips moving up to meet his, matching him thrust for thrust. 

“Oh fuck, Eddie…” you moaned, your eyes rolling up in her head. All this time, you'd had no idea what you had been missing, how amazing this could feel. But you knew you'd made the right decision. Somehow you knew this wouldn’t feel like this with anyone else.

“Sweetheart, I’m so close,” he grunted, his arms sliding beneath you to cradle you against him as he continued to move, every inch of your skin pressed against every inch of his. “Jesus Christ, you feel so fucking good.”

You held him against you, feeling yourself rising toward your peak once again, your stomach tightening in anticipation. You held your breath as your muscles tensed, clenching down around him. He roared your name as his own climax surged. Gently pulling out of you, he slid the condom off, tossing it in the trash can by your bed. 

Gathering you close to him, he pulled the comforter over you both and pressed his lips against your forehead, “Jesus Christ princess, I love you. I am so fucking in love with you.”

“I love you too,” you replied, curling into him, trying to remind yourself that this wasn’t another one of your dreams. This was reality. If you closed your eyes, he wouldn’t disappear. Eddie was real and he was here and he was all yours.

[bradshawsbitch]

𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥 | 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

hello, all. this came out of my hands as i was sat on the train home from uni. is this my love letter to bradley, and to this fandom? maybe so. it's not good, but it's what came out 🖤

authors note: i do not consent to having my work distributed anywhere other than on my blog. i do not consent to having it translated nor altered in any way.

tagging people i love and cherish deeply from this fandom: @lewmagoo @roosterforme @hangmanssunnies @sebsxphia @theharddeck @rhettabbotts @hangmanapologist @sugarcoated-lame @bradshawsbaby and so many more. thank you so much for your love, your patience, and for your creativity - you're all incredible!

“hi…” 

silence. the long, dreadful silence filled the void that was an answering machine. it’s up to you to fill the silence… the void. 

“i–” the sentence trails off, vocal chords failing to utter the sounds without a telling choke or break. 

for all the good days, all the days you feel strong, you feel confident and like you’re able to do this - there are days like these. and they’re growing more frequent. for the days you help others, for the days you look out for the people you love, for Penny, for Mav, Amelia… Phoenix, even Jake… for all the times you tell yourself you can do this.

there are days when you can’t. days where… you don’t want to be strong. where the solemnity of a silent house caves in on you, the loudness of your thoughts ever more noticeable amongst a barren house. days like today.

you try again.

“i miss you, bradley,” you manage the words, but at his name– it all roars and tears through your chest. it hurts, it feels as if the very core of your soul is being teared at by dark vicious claws, scratching, breaking, wounding. it starts off as a violent, swift and sudden pain, like a whip lashing through your chest - before it dulls into an unbearable throbbing pain that pulses as your breaths shorten.

“i need you–” now, there really is no stopping the treacherous sobs, the soft wails or whimpers that you had kept close to your chest for so long. all the voicemails left before this one will surely feel hollowhearted. and it pains you to unburden yourself like this…

but it’s true. you need him, you miss him. miss the security he brings, the warmth and comfort, the laughter and the completely effortless and unconditional way he loves. 

bradley is amber, he is the roaring warmth of a fireside in an otherwise cold and bleak environment. he is the gold of the morning sun, exciting and hopeful for what the day will bring. he is the orange and red glow of the growing dusk, soft, gentle and promising of a safe haven to lay your head to rest. 

he is the person who sees you. hears you, feels you and touches you in every way those words can be interpreted. never have you felt able to just be as much as you do with him. 

“please, i can’t– i can’t do this without you anymore,” you whimper softly into the void. his gentle timbre that greeted your voice message all too familiar to your ears.

and then, the realization, the overwhelming fact that you’ve been trying desperately to choke down ever since–

“i don’t want to do this without you anymore!” 

this sentence is what finally makes the rubber band snap, viciously and harsh it scatters the beads you had tread so carefully onto it with the realization that you can’t do this. this sentence is a shameful one, one that is selfish and cruel and wholly unfair. because you said you would. said you could handle this. promised, wholeheartedly, that you would be alright. 

those treacherous tears that wetted your cheeks burned furiously behind closed lids. closed lids behind which visions of bradley’s warm, broad chest invited you to rest upon, his very breaths and heartbeat enough to soothe and comfort. 

what if you were to lose that? the pain of losing… your person, it felt almost like it was too much to bear. but was this… this preferable then? the agony of loneliness, of surviving, of getting by, without him? you weren’t all so sure anymore. 

leaving this voice message was meaningless. it wouldn’t provide any comfort, wouldn’t make your thoughts un-fog nor solve the way your feelings battled and roared within you. 

so you hung up. 

it would surely get better tomorrow.

only, the tomorrows hadn’t been better. not for a while now. so, you let yourself cry. let yourself mourn, let yourself finally think the thoughts that scared you more than anything. 

would you be alone? 

how would you go on?

the thing about time, is that no matter what you do it can shape and form around you without your consent. what felt like an hour could be a second, and a second could stretch into eons of time. a vast timeless space. that’s how it felt, laying crumbled on the livingroom floor. it didn’t matter, not really. though, from the way you felt when you slumbered and woke sporadically, you may as well have been there for hours, days? no, surely not…

the vibration of your phone, usually unnoticeable rang through the entirety of the house like a gunshot. your body jolted and scrambled to pick up the almost dead phone. oh.

that face. it could bring tears to your eyes all over again.

“sugar?” 

you bit your lip so hard you imagined it could start bleeding at any second. a harsh intake of air was the only thing you could muster up. 

“oh, little love…” tears poured freely again. and you clutched your phone to your ear, curling in on yourself, as if his voice alone could be placed as a balm over your hurting soul. 

“please, darling… can you talk to me?” bradley coaxed, his voice soft, gentle, but filled with a hint of fear. 

“bradley,” was the whimpered reply he got, a reply that had bradley clutching at the khaki fabric over his chest. 

“i’m here, sugar,” he murmured soothingly, eyes clenched shut momentarily at the hurt he heard in your voice. 

“but you’re not!” you whimpered softly, selfishly. you knew it was. selfish. egotistical. you signed up for this. 

“i know, darling. soon. i–” he cleared his throat “i’m coming home.” you knew he might be lying. might be trying, to the best of his might, to settle you. to soothe the eruption. 

“will you?” your voice was weak, and suddenly you wondered if it hadn’t been days since you fell into a crumpled heap on the floor. how could you lose it like this? 

“yes, darling,” 

“do you promise?” 

as the door swung open, the sound of booted steps reached your ears. 

“i promise, little love” bradley murmured into your ear as his strong arms wrapped around your frame. as if it were nothing, bradley’s strong arms cradled you close to his chest as he lifted you into his lap on your shared sofa, tucking your face into his neck as you weeped. 

“i’m here, dove.. it’s alright, i’m home. i’m not leaving,” your whole body sagged helplessly against his chest.

thump thump. thump thump. thump thump. 

alive. breathing. speaking. touching. you whimpered softly and burrowed closer to what little of his tan skin was exposed to you, inhaling him. 

“i’m sorry,” you sobbed, clutching at his uniform. at the very thing he was, he was not even yours. he was… the property of the government. he loved this, loved flying, you knew that. 

“don’t you dare say that you are sorry for loving me, for missing me, for enduring loneliness that i could not comprehend navigating.” bradley’s voice was rough, gritted, his arms encircling your waist ever closer, as if holding you harder would keep you together. 

“i love you,” he was desperate. desperate to have you know, to please not leave him here. he needed you too. 

“bradley,” you sighed, your breath stuttering slightly as it was prone to do after crying, after an eruption of emotion. 

“i’ve been offered a position.” he cut you off, his words caressing your neck as he burrowed his nose into your hair. furrowing your brows you only slowly let your fingers sneak into the soft curls on his hair, the softness of it a gentle reminder that he was real. 

silence. another silence. 

“i don’t want to leave.” he confessed. in that confession lay more weight than he let on. it was the confession of a man weary and tired, of a boy scared… scared to death of losing what he loved most dear. 

“i don’t want you to leave,” your confession was filled with unsaid fears. anxieties and fears that had yet to come to pass, but that felt like they were on the precipice of becoming actualized. 

“which is why i won’t. not anymore.” leaving the safe haven of bradley’s warm skin, your quizzical brow made him chuckle softly, those amber eyes of his glittering all too beautifully in the afternoon sun. his gentle touch on your cheek had your eyelashes fluttering shut momentarily, leaning into the palm that cradled it. 

“i’ve been offered deputy chief of naval operations. i’ll be here, sugar. you’re going to get so sick of me,” bradley offered gently, now cradling your face in both of his palms, as if you were something precious he needed to hold with care. 

“are– are you serious?” 

“as a heart attack.” bradley promised solemnly as he placed soft, lazy kisses across your face, whispers of love caressing your wet skin. 

“will you stay with me?” he knew. he was giving you an out, should you want it. 

it was the furthest thing from what you wanted.

“always. you’ll be sick of me.” you smiled softly. bradley’s face lit up, that familiar rumble of a laughter bubbling in his chest. 

“oh, little love, that is quite impossible.” he retorted softly, his lips gently caressing yours to seal the deal.

[unclewaynemunson]

As always, the crazy talented @tennant-the-tigger managed to activate my Munson family feels by creating this masterpiece so my hand slipped and this happened :)

When Eddie first moved into Wayne's trailer, he wouldn't smile. The boy reminded Wayne of a ghost: pale, quiet... absent. Haunted, even. The first time Wayne saw a genuine smile on his face felt like a goddamn victory. But it soon turned out to be only the beginning of the hardest part: it meant that Eddie started feeling comfortable around Wayne. And for all Eddie knew, comfort meant danger. So he started lashing out, testing Wayne's limits, taunting him day and night, strategically aiming to drive him to his breaking point, to prove that good people didn't exist, that Wayne would never love Eddie, that he would give up on him as soon as it became too much work.

And now they’re here. Wayne doesn't have a clue how they got here, how they’ve managed to make it this far together. But they did. And somewhere along that road, Eddie has decided to start trusting Wayne.

His hair is longer now, his smile has reached a whole new level of brightness; he’s growing up. Rapidly. He’s been getting himself into some shady business and Wayne doesn't feel like he’s in any position to reproach him, can only watch it happen from the sidelines. Maybe he worries too much, because those shady business have given the boy his Sweetheart and managed to amplify that beautiful bright smile of his. So Wayne got to swap a shift with Jimmy and now finds himself sitting at the bar of some shabby old cafe, hiding behind a bottle of beer with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

And seeing Eddie perform is... Well, it’s a lot. It definitely isn't the kind of music Wayne would voluntarily expose his ears to, if he had any say in the matter. But Eddie is smiling from ear to ear all through the night and that more than makes up for the noise. He has this natural kind of showmanship that Wayne can't help but admire: the band is giving the three drunks at the bar a performance like the Hideout is some concert hall filled to the brim with thousands of screaming fans.

'This one's for my uncle,' Eddie announces in between two songs, wiggling his eyebrows towards the place where Wayne is sitting. 'Thank you for coming, uncle Wayne, I love you.'

He says those words so easily, up on that stage with a lamp shining way too bright in his face. Like it comes natural to him. And Wayne can only hide his face behind his bottle, the air knocked out of his lungs by how effortless and genuine it sounds.

The band bursts out into more ear-shattering noise and just like that, the moment is over. But the feeling in Wayne's chest stays with him through the rest of the evening.

He thinks back to that one night, barely two months ago, when Eddie had been raging, calling him all kinds of names, challenging him in a way that somehow seemed more vicious than any of his previous antics.

'You tryin' to find an excuse to hate me, boy?' he had asked, exhausted and hurt but still trying to be the voice of reason because he knew that Eddie couldn't help it, not really.

And that made Eddie freeze for a moment, eyes wide, tears glistering in the trailer's flickering lamplight.

'You're the one who's gonna hate me,' Eddie told him, trying to sound defiant but failing horribly in his delivery; his voice was trembling and his lip started to wobble.

And God, Wayne can still feel how that all-encompassing fear flared up in his stomach, because what the hell could Eddie have done to believe that Wayne would ever hate him?

One deep breath had been all it took for Eddie to get back to his anger; to throw the words at Wayne's face that he'd kick Eddie out because he was a queer and wrong and bad and dirty and Wayne would hate that, would hate him.

Wayne had been stunned for a long second, completely overwhelmed by the power that Eddie was giving him by telling him that. He understood exactly the complicated mixture of self-sabotage and trust brewing inside of Eddie, because Wayne had grown up side-by-side with the cruel man who raised this scared boy in front of him.

Then, he had done something that did not come naturally to him at all: he stepped forward, wrapped his arms around him, and held his nephew even though he tried to wriggle himself free; held him when he allowed himself to melt into Wayne's arms; held him while he cried against his shoulder; held him while he told Eddie that there was nothing wrong or bad or dirty about him and that Wayne wouldn't kick him out even if he killed someone.

He blinks and comes back into the present when the last tone of the last song dies out. Eddie jumps off the stage to run up to Wayne's spot at the bar, that smile still secured on his face and his Sweetheart still cradled in his arms.

'And? What do ya think?' He’s practically bouncing with excitement and Wayne can’t help but smile; Eddie might be growing up, but he’ll never really stop being that little boy – not to Wayne, at least.

He reaches out, pulls Eddie closer to let a hand land on his shoulder and rest his chin on his fluffy curls.

He’s never been good with big words, never been good with loving out loud.

'Proud of you, Eddie,' is all he can manage to say.

But judging from the way Eddie refuses to pull away for a whole twenty seconds, it’s exactly enough.

[tillthelandslide]

You've Got Me Forever - Ross Macdonald One Shot

A/n: something I just whipped up in about 10 minutes because I woke from having dreams about this glorious man and just had to write one down. It's not been proof read so please don't hate me

Fluff, spelling and grammar mistakes

He stands by the door to his bedroom, resting against the frame, it's cold against his bare back but he doesn't falter, doesnt flinch. His eyes remain on her, sitting in just his Tshirt and a pair of panties, an acoustic guitar resting in her lap as she sits cross legged.

She fiddles with the strings for a second, completely unaware that he's been standing watching her the entire time. She begins strumming a familiar song, playing the chords effortlessly. He has to hold in a gasp as her voice then fills the room.

"So I heard, you found, somebody else" she sings. Ross' mouth falls open, shocked that the girl he had been spending months with now, was revealing something about her that he didn't know, something huge. She could sing and was amazing at it too.

"And at first, I thought, it was a lie" she was completely wrapped up in the music and he couldn't help but smile, heart beating twice as fast in his chest. They had spent every waking moment they could with each other for 6 months (going on dates on and off for two months before that mainly due to his busy schedule), she joined them on tour when she could (her own job making it pretty easy for her to do so), he spent every minute of his time off with her and their families and they quickly fell in love.

He had her in his life for 6 whole months and was yet to discover this about her. Every day he spent with her he learnt something new, something that made him want her more, something that made him realise she was his person.

"I took all my things, that make sounds, the rest I can do without" he remembers Matty saying to him once that some people have to really work on singing and some people just get it. She just got it. Her voice was effortless, her tone was beautiful, her voice never wavered or cracked, a small fact that let him knew she must have done this a lot. They had spoken about their mutual passion for music, she explained that she had been playing guitar since she could remember, but she failed to mention this.

"I don't want your body, But I hate to think about you with somebody else" she sings. She stops after that, fingers pausing on the strings.

"Can feel you staring you know" she says, eyes flicking up from the strings to the man in the doorway. He simply smiles at her and she smiles back.

"Darling..." Hjs next words fail him and she stares back, waiting for him to say something, anything.

"You never told me you could sing" he says, large frame coming to find her on the bed. She simply shrugs at his words, placing the guitar onto the floor lightly.

"You're amazing" he says, she moves herself so she's draped over him, legs either side of his thighs. His hands instinctively move to her hips, holding her in place. Her hands find his shoulders, the muscle contracting under her touch.

"I've been singing since I was 2" she says matter of factly.

"And you didn't feel like telling me that?" He chuckles. She shrugs again and it makes him chuckle, his hand finds her jaw pulling her towards him for a brief kiss.

"Singing... It... Frees me" she explains "But... I like to keep it to myself, it's my own little thing you know, people don't need to know that" she says and he nods along fo her words.

"I appreciate that... But baby a talent like yours can't just be hidden... Everyone needs to know how good you are" he says and she shakes his head at him.

"No they don't" she smiles at him "I don't tell anyone, I prefer it that way, I don't need to tell anyone it's like my secret, you're lucky I shared it with you" she laughs and his face falls, suddenly looking at her very seriously.

"Thank you" he says, if this was something she kept to herself, he was unbelievably thankful she allowed him to know.

"But I will... With some persuasion... Sing for you if you liked it so much... Just for you" she says and he smiles widely at her again.

"You must really like me" he jokes. She simply smears her lips to hers, playing with the hairs covering his chin, before pulling away.

"You're alright" she says making him laugh, flipping them easily as his hands encapture her waist, tickling her. Her giggles fill the room and soon he's laughing too, until eventually their stomachs hurt too much and they have to stop.

So he rests in-between her thighs, one of which has hooked over him, keeping him there. He holds himself up by his elbows as his right hand moves the hair from her eyes.

"I'm going to marry you one day" he says simply as she smiles at him.

"You better, otherwise I might have to kill you... Can't have you going on about how good of a singer your ex-girlfriend was" she says making him laugh above her.

"You'd want to marry me?" He asks. He had always struggled navigating relationships with his job, but with her it was never complicated, in fact it was one of the easiest things either of them had ever done. They just made it work and she was the most understanding person about his career. But he was ever the worrier and despite plenty of reassurance from her, he still doubted that she wanted him: all of him forever.

"If you'd have me, of course. Thought you knew that by now" she says, placing a gentle peck to his lips.

"You worry too much Macdonald" she says, pushing the hair from his eyes now. "I'm not going anywhere, no matter what we'll make it work" she says and he nods down at her.

"And one day you'll marry me. You promise?" He says making her chuckle.

"I promise" she seals it with a kiss.

He had found his person and he was so unbelievably lucky and ecstatic it was her. Someone who loved him fiercely, loved him for every part of him (even the parts he wasn't too fond of). Someone who seemed to not give a shit about rumours or tabloids because she trusted him and knew he was her person too. Someone who supported him through every adventure he had, had so far in the time they had known each other and someone who would go on to support through every other one.

"You've got me forever you know that right?" She asks and he nods.

"I love you" he says simply, pressing a firm kiss to her mouth.

"I love you more Ross Macdonald"

[itwasthereaminuteago]

¦¦ 08. Voice Kink ¦¦

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

Matt Murdock x female reader

Warnings: Praise kink, talking to orgasm, restraint failure ;) p in v sex (wrap it up folks!)

Author’s Notes: I just really really love being a good girl...

"Tell me what you need." 

Oh, there it is. That something in his quiet tone that's like a firm but gentle hand around your throat. It says he could all too easily throw you around, but also that he knows that it makes you weak, that you'll obey. He just has to ask.

You remember clear as day when you first realised his voice made you feel… things. You'd never thought an opening statement could ever be sexy, but here you were, sitting at the back of the court with your nails digging into your thighs as Matt paved the way for a flawless defense with only his words, his voice. The confidence it projected, the honesty it carried, the way his tone dropped with effortless control… you were a puddle by the time the judge banged the gavel.

Of course he had noticed the state you were in, no matter how much you tried to compose yourself and calm the heat in your cheeks and between your legs, but he said nothing.

Only afterwards when you all gathered for some celebratory drinks in Josie's did he react. The bar was full and noisy so Matt leaned in close, his lips a hair's breadth away from your ear. His voice a low drawl tinged with the warmth of a couple of whiskeys. 

"You seemed uh, a little distracted in court earlier… any reason?"

You take a particularly large sip of your drink, swallowing as slowly as possible before you have to answer. 

"I… um, you just really nailed that opening statement." 

"Oh, well thank you angel, but I had you and Foggy to help craft it, so can't take all the credit…" he smiles that genuine smile that always takes your legs out from underneath you. "And was that all?"

You swallow again, your mouth dry.

"It's the way you…, your voice is so… I just like listening to your voice." You blurt out, the admission loosened by the alcohol. "You sound so sure of yourself… but not in an asshole way!"

He cocks his head, it was already clear he was not going to let go of this. "Oh really? And… what sort of way would you say, then?" His tone had dropped even lower now, your pulse speeding up in response. The fucker knew what it was doing to you, he was just winding you up for sport. His fingers are brushing against yours on the table and it's like being burned. 

"Uhh, just, confident? Like you know what you want." You watch his tongue dart out to lick his lips. "It's just something I noticed, very recently. It's um, it's very… attractive."

You try your best to stay calm, to ignore the throbbing between your thighs but you're already in trouble, already too far gone. 

"And how about you, do you know what you want?" he whispers the question, but you have no problem hearing him above the din of the bar. Nope, no problem at all. You're zeroed in on his voice, the texture of it, every little inflection and emphasis. You're in so deep now there's no going back on what you've said, he knows, and won't let you.

"Yeah…" you practically moan, "I want you to take me home and tell me what to do."

Matt smirks, takes your hand, and does just that.

-

"Be patient," he tells you as your hands twitch at your sides. “Are you listening?”

Oh god yes you are fucking listening. His voice is like gravel in honey, rough edges and liquid gold wrapped in dark chocolate in your ears and seeping under your skin as you lie completely naked on his bed. He sits at your side mere inches away.

"Yes Matty." you’re bound to his commands, you'll do anything for him.

“I want you to close your eyes while I describe exactly what I want to do to you… but you’re not allowed to touch, not yet. Is that okay angel?”

"Yes." you breathe, your body tingling with anticipation already.

“Good. I would start here,” 

He’s so close, breath fanning over your cheek as he speaks. “I'd tell you how beautiful you are, all spread out just for me, and I would kiss you, right here,” he blows gently just under your earlobe where it meets the skin of your neck and you shiver. “that little spot that you like… that makes you-”

You let out a small moan right on cue, you feel like you’re combusting and he’s barely started. "Just like that." he grins at how responsive you are.

"My lips on you, all the way down the side of your neck, over your collarbones, on the soft skin of your beautiful tits… mm, would you like that kitten?"

You squirm on the bed, squeezing your legs together and nodding fervently.

"Yeah that's right angel, just imagine me kissing and sucking marks into your gorgeous skin… can you feel it? Tugging at your nipples with my teeth, making you make those little sounds you know I love."

You make another little sound just then, your fingers clawing at the sheets, desperate for him to touch you, or to let you touch yourself, but he won't.

"You're doing so well for me sweetheart, I'm gonna make you feel so good I promise."

"Matt…" his words are phantoms licking at your core, his promises making you slick and hot. You need him so bad.

"I'd kiss down over your belly, your hips. God, you're so soft and you smell so good sweetie. Part your legs for me baby, that's it." 

You do as he says, baring yourself, compliance coming so easily with the state you're in. You feel the bed dip and warm breath right over your pussy and you gasp, lifting your hips up to chase after the sensation.

"You feel that?" He teases you, sitting back just out of reach. "I know you want my mouth on you."

You moan in frustration. "Matty yes, please…"

"Keep your eyes closed." He instructs, and you shift again. He tunes in to the thudding of your heartbeat and can't ignore the second pulse growing stronger between your legs. 

"Want my tongue there, angel? Oh yeah you do. I can practically taste you already, you're so wet, so sweet…" 

His voice is pure sin kissing your ears, you can't get enough of it. "God, Matt, please touch me!"

"Shh-shh, good girls get what they want, don't they sweetheart?" 

You were aching so badly for him. "Yes."

"Are you my good girl?" 

"Yes!" you cry out, your body vibrating with need. You feel him moving over you, still not touching you directly, just hovering. You stay as still as you can even as your chest heaves up and down, wanting to please him so he'll reward you for being patient.

"Darling you're doing so good, I know how much you want to feel my tongue dragging up your pretty pussy… mm, how much you need me to lick you right there, to taste you. Fuck."

You hear him swallow hard, it seems this little game is affecting him as much as it is you. 

He hums. "Do you think I could make you cum without touching you, baby? Think I could just…" he blows so gently over your pussy, smiling as you tilt your hips up and groan at the ghost of the sensation. Your eyes are still shut tight and you hear the clink of a belt buckle and the rustle of fabric. 

"Listen angel," his breath stutters and you don't need to look to know he's stroking himself, the sound of skin on skin driving you insane. "you hear that?" You ache with emptiness, clenching around nothing. If he doesn't fuck you right now you swore you were going to-

Your eyes snap open and Matt's right there above you, your strangled cry filling the room as the head of his cock is pushing into you, filling you, stretching you so fucking good just like you've been craving. Your arms lock around him instantly, pulling him so close, fingers threading through his hair and down his back to claw at his ass. You moan together at the relief that you can finally feel each other, your hips rocking up frantically to meet his. He swallows your pleasured whimpers, and they blend with his own as he's kissing you deeply and tasting your undiluted desperation. It spurs him to move faster, to fuck you like you've needed him too all day since the courtroom, he moves you to lift your leg up onto his shoulder so he can hit deep inside and feel you squeezing him so tight.

Every thrust pushes you higher, racking up the pleasure, throwing you towards an orgasm so fast it's making you dizzy. He hits that sweet spot within you over and over until you're almost gonna plead for him to stop, but you can't.

"Come for me sweetheart, oh fuck yes my good girl, let me feel you come on my cock..."

He doesn't even need to touch anywhere else, you come undone at his command. With his name both a dirty and sacred prayer on your lips and your nails digging into his back, you feel him pulse and spill inside you with a deep growl and several long, hard thrusts.

-

"I really think you could do it without touching me, with just your voice. I was this close." you pant, kissing him softly afterwards.

He chuckles, pulling you close and idly stroking your side. "oh yeah,” he says, sure of himself, “I know. I just couldn't wait."

[inlovewithregencyera]

Granningham, July 4th, 1818

The Duchess of Hollow chose annually to retreat to the family's small grandiose estate of Perlington House in Granningham. Only would she retreat here with her two eldest unmarried daughters who had already made their debuts in society. The sprawling estate, nestled in the serene landscapes of Granningham, served as a secluded haven away from the prying eyes of high society.

Here, amidst the lush gardens and opulent halls, the Duchess imparted wisdom and refined grace to her daughters, preparing them for the intricacies of their societal roles. The estate became a sanctuary where the young ladies learned not only the art of diplomacy and social finesse but also discovered the complexities of their own nature within these familial walls. The Duke of Hollow had this estate built for his wife back in 1811. They would stay here for a fortnight after the season was let, before joining the rest of the family at their summer home in Brindleton.

Sarah: Oh you look as pretty as a pearl Lady Aurelia!

Aurelia: Sarah, *blushes* you always say this.

Sarah: Well I never lie m'lady! You always look lovely and pretty!

Aurelia: And as do you Sarah, as do you. Why are you dressed like the house and chamber maids? I've told you that you're now a lady's maid and don't have to dress like that anymore.

Sarah: Sorry m'lady, won't happen again. I've still yet to get used to such a position! I've hung up all the fancy new gowns you've brought me and will change after I've finished your hair.

*Sarah hums whilst continuing to fix Aurelia's hair*

Sarah: Y'know m'lady, Lord Worthington is said to be in Granningham! He's back to take on his title and estate!

The sound of that name sent shivers down Aurelia's spine. The mention of his name elicited a cascade of memories, both sweet and bitter, that played with symphony in her mind, revealing the complex emotions tied to her affectionate bond with the one whose name hung in the air like a delicate secret. Frederick Charles Worthington, the now Earl of Henford, and rightful heir to Oakmere Hall.

Aurelia: *tapping her fingers against vanity* F-Frederick? Frederick Worthington? No, no that can't be. He hasn't stepped foot in Isturia since the Summer of 1816. He's been at his Chateau in Orleans. He didn't even attend his own father's funeral back in December. Why would he be here now?

Sarah: Well m'lady, I hear it from Tabitha, and Tabitha hears it from Jenny, and Jenny hears it from her daughter Hannah who's a cook at Oakmere. He visited his mama, but he's moved into Ivydale Park, just right up the hill! Says he can't manage that big ol' house just yet m'lady, too much going on.

Aurelia: *starts digging into the vanity with her nails* Ivydale Park? Up the hill?! No, no, no! I can't be here. Tell Mama we must leave for Brindleton today, not tomorrow.

Sarah: Why m'lady?

Aurelia: Oh Sarah! You very well know what conspired between us in 1816.

Sarah: No m'lady, I meant why shall I tell your Mama? Didn't one of you write him?

Aurelia: Heavens no Sarah! I've not written him in over a year, and Mama has not written him since December to give our condolences. Where did you come up with such a silly idea?

Sarah: Then why is his carriage outside? Y'know, the big fancy gold one that you and he used to go riding in and Miss Matlock would chaperone!

Aurelia: WHAT!?!

Emerging from the grand, gold, and crimson vessel was by no doubt, Frederick Worthington. For how anyone could mistake it not to be? He always unfolded himself with an effortless grace, and he stood at an impressive 6'4! He navigated towards the doors of Perlington, and if you were so blessed as to witness the genteel and noble grace in which he walked, you couldn't help but feel captivated by this magnetic allure of a man who seemed to carry both power and gentleness in equal measure. His manners and demeanor were completely unaffected.

Aurelia: Oh dear God help me! Sarah, you must convince Mama I am gravely ill and cannot join her and Louie for tea. Please!

Sarah: But you've no symptoms of being ill.

Aurelia: Oh you're right! She'll know my manners are affected. Fetch my traveling dress and coat, I'll tell her I promised to call on Aunt Helena before going to Brindleton. *nail biting intensifies*

Sarah: Shouldn't you withdraw from the win-

Aurelia: OH MY HEAVENS HE'S SEEN ME! I BELIEVE I SHALL FAINT! TELL ETHEL TO FETCH THE SALTS AND YOU MY TRAVELING ATTIRE! WITH HASTE, PLEASE!

Sarah: *frantically* Right away m'lady!

[rylandfalkov]

FEBRUARY DWC 2024 DAY 2 - SUPPRESS

((Since my time to write for WoW is extremely limited right now, here's my show from Succulent Tart's Glitter is in the Air since it uses one of the words for this day!))

Ryland steps onto the stage with acoustic guitar in hand, donning completely casual clothing tonight: Tank top, slacks, boots, and the only thing that really stands out, a crown of red and white geraniums. Those familiar with his previous Glitter is in the Air performances may recognize the flowers as a staple of this particular show for him.

He flashes the crowd that charming, dimpled smirk he’s known for as he steps up to the microphone to speak:

"I know some of you may expect me to continue the story I’ve been telling over the years at this performance; with the aerial hoops, ballet, and usually making a good handful of you break down in tears. Taking a break this year to do a little something different. Don’t worry, the aerial contraptions and ballet will be coming back. Probably a little pole dancing for the show in April."

Wink wink nudge nudge.

"I sang on this very stage for my very first show ever with the Tarts years ago. It’s not something I do very often as I feel oddly more vulnerable singing than I do with dancing. However, I’m gonna sing something for you all tonight! This song can be interpreted in different ways for different people, and that’s the great thing about music yeah? You hear whatever you want or whatever you need in it. Whether this is about unrequited love, a forbidden relationship, what happens when you have a strong attraction to someone that isn’t necessarily good for you, or whatever else.

I’ll let you all feel what you need to feel for it, and assume what you’d like to assume as to why I’m singing it for you tonight."

Ryland steps back from the microphone and clears his throat as he slightly adjusts his guitar into position. After a few silent moments, he begins to strum a tune that is likely fairly recognizable to many. Leaning closer to the microphone, he begins to sing; his vocals breathy and fluid, delicately suppressed yet commanding and immediately captivating, “No, dah-oooooo, ohh-ohh-ohh. No, dah-ooooo…”  Eyes close and brows raise briefly as he switches from chest to a gentle head voice with ease, adding a bit of modest vibrato onto the back end of the lingering notes.

His eyes flutter open, making and holding eye contact with various members of the audience, “The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.” There’s a dreamy quality to the surroundings and to the song itself; sweet, sultry, and even a touch haunting at times. “Well It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.” There’s something almost hypnotic about those impassioned lyrics and that enticing gaze, beckoning and bewitching all. One corner of his lips draws upwards into a lopsided, alluring grin, flashing those pearly whites beneath as his voice easily lifts to reach the higher notes, “No I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you. No, I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you.” He takes a sharp breath, maintaining the same euphonic quality for the chorus, “No, I don’t wanna fall in love.” The mellifluous timbre of his vocals fluently ease into his falsetto range without strain nor hitch, making the difficult song sound effortless, “No, I don't wanna fall in love.” There’s an etherealness to his intonation that makes the song sound more romantic than the words actually lend, “With you, ohhhhhh, no no no, mmmm”. He looks back down at his guitar with a tender smile, “No, Da-Ooooo…” He allows the vibrato trail off into silence naturally as his gaze greets the audience again. Ryland falls back into his natural register as he scans the crowd with a slight intensity in both gaze and voice. His upper lip twitches, baring his teeth more as he sings the next lines, “What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you.” While he never mentioned what the song meant to him, it certainly holds some meaning given the absolute heart and emotion he puts into the lyrics, gracefully crescendoing as he continues, “What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you.” He doesn’t even stop to breathe as he reaches the chorus once more, nurturing the delicate balance between strength and fragility, “No, I don’t wanna fall in love. No, I don’t wanna fall in love.” Eyes shut as he nearly smiles, the song certainly brings out a full range of emotion, “With you, ohhhhhh, no no no, mmmm. No, Da-Ooooo..” He continues to extend the note with the faintest hints of vibrato, readily raising the pitch and sliding the held note around at his whim before allowing it to fade.

Eyes crack open to focus on his guitar, leaning away from the microphone and continuing to strum the melodic rhythm with finesse. There’s a trace of genuine melancholy in his expression, alongside a raw sensuality with the way he wets his lips, inhales, and sways forward until lush lips just barely graze the microphone. “The world was on fire and no one could save me but you, well it’s strange what desire will make foolish people do.” His azure gaze confidently greets anyone willing to hold the intense stare, making it seem as if he’s singing just for them and them alone. “No, I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you. No, I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.” Both brows raise along with the tone, and one corner of his lips pulls into a bittersweet smile, allowing the heartfelt words and soulful melody to permeate throughout the entire performance space. He maintains a certain tenderness and restraint all throughout the otherwise heavy lyrics. “No, I don’t wanna fall in love. No, I don’t wanna fall in love.” Those honeyed vocals are meant to evoke feelings and daydreams of all varieties. It’s a combination of yearning and lust, of vulnerability and a loss of individuality, with an aftertaste of regret. “No, I….Oh no, I……” The high notes are masterfully held, gradually fading into a melodic exhale and swept away into the rhythmic strumming of his guitar. Ryland's lips brush the microphone, his shuddering breath audible, “With you, ohhhhhh, no no no, mmmm. No, Da-Ooooohhhh…” He strums the final chord, allowing both guitar and voice to fade to nothing. He stills in the silence for a few moments before lowering the instrument and stepping away from the microphone to take his final bow.

@succulent-tart @daily-writing-challenge

[vanaglori-ah]

glide gently

i guess from now on i am mostly writing ghost fics. anyways this came out of @stressghoul​‘s story on tik tok so have fun.

word count: 929 words

ao3 link: 🧊🧊🧊

Cold.

Why was it so cold?

And why did you think it would be a good idea to go out?

“Cara mia, if you don’t move you’ll continue to be cold!”

Oh right.

You pouted. “Unlike some people, I didn’t take ballet lessons!”

“Ballet lessons are not necessary for ice skating.” Copia glides over to you, hands behind his back and a proud smile on his face. He had also straightened his posture somewhat as well. Compared to him, you looked a bit pathetic: clinging onto the railing, struggling to maintain balance, refusing to move because of how shaky you were.

“Yeah but they most certainly helped you.”

Copia had fallen once: when he got onto the ice. He was hesitant and wobbly a bit but once he started gliding, he didn’t stop. He even did a few twirls and attempted an axel (he almost rammed himself into the wall and decided that was enough. This wasn’t like jumping around in the rain). You on the other hand have fallen multiple times, probably scraped your knee, and lost control. You were someone who didn’t like letting go. It was...scary, dangerous even.

“It takes practice cara mia. I mean, you made it around the rink! Even if it was once. Once is better than none.” He glances down at your skates and observes your body language. “I can help you if you want.”

“No thanks. I got this.” Your smile was strained. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your fun.”

“You wouldn’t be interrupting-”

“Just have fun Copia. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get the hang of it. Sooner or later.” You mumble the last part.

“If you insist.” He glides away, but his eyes remain trained on you for a bit, concern growing.

The next fifteen minutes consisted of you shakily making your way around the rink. You almost screamed every time you felt your balance wobble and stopped short of gliding farther than a small amount. You cursed to yourself as you gripped onto the railing against, attempting to stabilize yourself. For just a minute, you decided to take a breather.

You heard the sound of metal on ice approach you. Turning your head, it was Copia. “That was your second time around!” His smile is wide and his face is full of pride. Despite how much you sucked at ice skating, he was proud of the little things. It made you feel warm inside.

“Really? Still feels like I’m on the first one.” You sigh.

Copia puts his hands out and you look at him curiously. “I’ll help you glide. I might be useful to have someone to guide you.”

“Copia...” You bite your lip.

“It won’t hurt, would it? Besides, you trust me, no?”

You think about it for a bit. He’s right. It would be wrong of you not to trust Copia, the current head of the Clergy. Who are you to doubt your faithful leader? “Just...don’t let me go?” You place your hands in his. He closes them, his grip gentle but firm.

“I would never.”

Copia gently tugs you along. He skates backwards which is honestly impressive in its own right. Your legs wobble, but he tells you calmly that he has you. You have nothing to fear when you’re with him. He would not let you get hurt.

“Copia!” You exclaimed, feeling yourself lean forward and your control over your limbs begin to disappear.

He quickly balances you by stopping himself. You use your foot to come to a complete stop. Albeit now you were very close to him. Almost embarrassingly so. Copia smiles. “It’s okay cara mia. Are you okay?” You nod. “Now just follow me again.”

He tugs you and you move with him. He makes it look so effortless, the way he glides. But he could tell by the way you gripped onto his hands that you were nervous. “Take a deep breath.”

You do as told, trying to calm your breathing. Your heart felt like it was moving way too fast, panicked. But breathing and focusing on Copia and his presence helped push it to the back of your mind. Copia begins to glide and you follow his lead.

You stop walking along the ice, beginning to glide more smoothly. You glide for longer and your limbs, even though it sort of felt numb and out of your control, were still present. The biting cold was a reminder that your limbs were functioning and attached to you. You still had control over them.

Copia’s eyes brighten and he smiles yet again. “See cara mia. Not so hard. Shall I move faster?”

“No! No! No thank you!” You exclaim.

“Okay, okay. I’m going to let you go now-”

“Wait!” Your grip on his hands tighten immensely. “Just please don’t-”

You’re interrupted by a loud growl coming from your stomach. It had totally slipped your mind that you forgot to eat earlier.

“Well, I think it’s time to eat anyways.” Copia leans forward. “I most certainly had fun. Did you?”

“Ye...ah.” He was so close. Sparks were flying in your stomach.

“That’s the most important thing.” He presses his lips against your nose in a gentle kiss.

You felt your face heat up. Lucifer, if you were to look in a mirror! You didn’t wanna know what you looked like. “Let’s go! I’m starving.”

Copia lets go of your hands and begins to glide away, leaving you stranded on the ice. “Copia!”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry.”

He glides back over to you and leads you by the hand to the gate.

[khwxbeeda]

"Tera wrist theek hai ab?"

"Fucking shit!"

Raghav pressed a hand to his chest and glared half-heartedly at Ranveer, cheeks burning at the amused smirk on his ridiculously handsome face.

"Dammit, dude," he exhales, "give a gay a warning, shit."

Ranveer snickered, and Raghav rolled his eyes before turning back to the music app on his phone.

"Hoy," he answered grumpily. "Theek ahe ata. Dukhat nahi."

Ranveer scoffed, reaching up to grab his T-shirt by the collar and pulling it off in one smooth move. Raghav hurriedly looked back down at his phone, not wanting the other boy to see the blush that was no doubt spreading across his cheeks, and almost missed what he said.

"Mai Marathi nahi bolta phir bhi I can tell you're lying," Ranveer said, turning around to dig into his bag for his kurta and ghungroo. Raghav's traitorous eyes dragged over the exposed tan skin, noting the smooth muscles and the broad shoulders and toned biceps—

He looked away, biting the inside of his cheeks and gulping down the sound that wanted to climb up his throat.

"You are absolutely not fine," Ranveer continued, completely unaware of Raghav's inner turmoil. "You're shit at lying."

"And- and how would you know that, Your Royal Thighness?" Raghav snarked back, mentally applauding himself for only stumbling over one word instead of the entire sentence, and Ranveer snorted and sniggered at the nickname. Or at least, Raghav thought it was for the nickname. He was promptly proven wrong.

"Cute stutter," Ranveer said with a wink that hit Raghav like cupid's arrow through the heart, "but that kind of gives you away, Patil."

Raghav huffed and folded his arms, pushing his lips into a pout and turning his nose up into the air.

He was absolutely not blushing at being called cute. He was not.

"You can't prove shit," he muttered, and the other boy laughed outright as he pulled his kurta on, messing up his hair in the process. Raghav barely held in his groan. He wanted to mess that glorious hair up. He wanted to slide his hands through it and pull, wanted to feel the silky strands between his fingers, wanted to hear the sounds Ranveer might make, wanted to use his hair to drag him into a hot kiss—

Stop right the fuck there, Raghu.

He pushed the thought away. Ranveer opened his mouth to say something, but the door to the studio flew open.

BANG!

It slammed against the wall hard enough to make both of them flinch, and before Raghav could even look at who it was, fingers were curling around his collar and yanking him off the bench.

"PATIL! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO, HARAMKHOR?!"

Ayush. He was fuming, red in the face and breathing heavily, eyebrows dragged down into a thunderous expression. Raghav got his feet under himself to stand up straight, anger bubbling in his stomach and eyes narrowing into a glare.

"I don't know, Ayush," he said, inserting a subtle note of challenge into his voice, "what did I do that's got you so riled up?"

"YOU—"

Ayush roared and pulled back his fist. Raghav flinched and threw his arms up in an effort to protect himself, eyes squeezed shut in dreaded anticipation of the pain.

The punch never came.

"LET ME GO!"

Raghav slowly opened his eyes, then felt his jaw go slack.

Ranveer stood behind Ayush, fingers curled tight around his wrist, stopping him from moving forward and making it look effortless. The sleeves of his kurta were rolled up, and the muscles in his forearm flexed minutely when Ayush tried to push him off. He did not move even an inch.

Ayush glared at him. "Let go of me, man," he growled.

Raghav's eyes flicked to him and then back to Ranveer, who slowly tilted his head to the side and regarded Ayush with an amused smile, the kind that you gave to a kid when it was throwing a tantrum.

"No, I don't think I will, actually," he said evenly, eyes glittering with something that made a shiver run down Raghav's spine. There was something in them that almost made it seem like Ranveer had been waiting for this. What this was, Raghav had no idea, and he was not sure whether he wanted to find out or not.

Ayush tugged his arm again, but Ranveer held fast, smile growing from amused to condescending.

"You see, Ayush," Ranveer said pleasantly, "Raghav here did not come to practice the other day. And I went looking for him because he's not one to miss practise."

Ayush tried to pull his wrist away again, but the taller boy held fast, fingers flexing around bone in a manner that threatened breakage if Ayush did not stop moving. The look in Ranveer's eyes changed to something darker. "Imagine my surprise when I see his hurt wrist, and the bruise on his shoulder."

"He got his," Ayush snarled. "Walking around thinking—"

"And then," Ranveer steamrolled over him, narrowing his eyes into a dangerous look that had Raghav unconsciously shifting in unease. That was scary, but also... hot.

"And then, he told me that you were the reason for his injuries."

Ranveer laughed— a sharp, scathing sound that cut through the air like a whip, and oh Gods, Raghav was having revelations about himself. Fuck.

"You," Ranveer said, smile on his lips that implied exactly how much he respected Ayush, "who can't even pull your wrist out of a simple hold."

For show, he flexed his fingers, and Raghav felt like his cheeks were going to burst with how much blood rushed into them.

Gods fuck, that's hot.

"Why's it your concern, huh?" Ayush spat. "Trying to protect your twink boyfriend, you faggo—"

CRACK

Ayush's head snapped back, blood spraying from his nose. Raghav leapt back with a gasp as the boy screamed, hands coming up to cup what Raghav was sure was a broken nose. Within seconds, Ayush's hands were covered in blood and tears were streaming down his face.

"MADARCHOD," he howled, but Ranveer laughed in his face, a sharp, cutting smile curling over his full lips.

"I've been waiting to do that since I saw Raghav's wrist," he said in a casual tone that was completely at odds with the gleam of gratification in his dark eyes. "It was exactly as satisfying as I'd fantasised it to be."

"I'LL GET YOU BACK FOR THIS," Ayush shrieked between sobs of pain. "I'LL GET YOU BACK, YOU COCKSUCKING FAGG—"

CRACK

Ayush screamed again, and Ranveer carelessly shook out his hand, smile showing too many teeth. "Sach me, yaar Ayush," he drawled, "you should know better than to use slurs right after you've been punched. Shows poor form, especially when you can't even block a punch you already know is coming."

Ayush glared at him through puffy, tear filled eyes, and Ranveer simply smiled back, the picture of innocence if not for the blood smeared on his knuckles. Raghav had the sudden, wild urge to laugh, but he pushed it down.

"I'll get you back for this," Ayush choked out, and stomped towards the door, sobs wracking his chest. The door slammed shut behind him.

The studio was quiet for two seconds. And then Ranveer was striding towards Raghav, a worried look in his eyes. He reached out and rearranged Raghav's collar with gentle hands still covered in crimson.

"Tu theek hai?" he asked in a low, soft voice, hands coming up to cup Raghav's jaw, eyebrows scrunched in worry.

Raghav snapped.

He lunged forward, throwing his arms around Ranveer's neck, and pulled his head down to smash their lips together.

Ranveer yelped, but his arms unconsciously wrapped around Raghav's waist and pulled him in closer, till they were pressed so close together they could not tell where one began and other ended.

Raghav pulled back, stared at Ranveer with wild eyes, then lurched for another short, forceful kiss. Then another. And another.

"You—" he exclaimed, then kissed him again, "need to—" another kiss— "stop being—" one more kiss— "so fucking sexy!"

He punctuated the last word with one last, long, searing kiss, eyes fluttering shut and arching his back against Ranveer's body, slipping his tongue into the taller boy's mouth and pulling a soft noise from deep in his throat.

When he pulled away a few seconds later, Ranveer looked dazed— eyes wide and blinking slowly, lips swollen and gently parted.

They stared at each other, and then Ranveer slowly swallowed.

"So," he rasped, "you like me, then?"

Raghav rolled his eyes. "Take a wild fucking guess, sweetheart."

And he slammed his mouth back onto Ranveer's.

.

@orgasming-caterpillar @musaafir-hun-yaaron @h0bg0blin-meat @godnonsensical @yehsahihai

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Two Sides of The Same Coin - Chapter 18: "I'm Only Me When I'm With You"

"You drive me crazy half the time, the other half I'm only trying to let you know that what I feel is true. And I'm only me when I'm with you..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes

“You’re overwatering that plant,” you interrupt from the threshold of Bucky's room.

After your conversation the other day, you were worried that you'd inadvertently made things weird between the two of you. So, after several hours of overthinking and steeling your nerves, you were going to try to talk to him again.  

Bucky slightly jolts at the sound of your voice, once again completely unaware that you were there. “You’ve really got to tell me how you do that.”

“A magician never reveals their secrets,” you wryly reply, walking into his room.

“So it is magic?” he smirks.

You playfully narrow your eyes. “I will not confirm or deny anything.”

“You’re talking like a true SHIELD asset now,” Bucky quips, putting down the glass of water. He'd missed you, missed when things were effortless between you two. He was fully prepared to punch Tony and Steve in the face for getting in his head. “Anyway, how can you tell?”

You tap two of your fingers to your temple. “I can sense it.”

“Really?”

“No,” you chuckle. “You can tell by the leaves. They’re starting to wilt.”

“Oh,” Bucky frowns, lifting the plant up to examine it. And you’re right the leaves are starting to wilt. 

“It’s alright,” you assure him, moving to stand in front of him. You look at the plant, lightly stroking the leaves. “Keep it by the window. It’ll bounce back with some sunlight.”

“Right,” Bucky states, moving the plant to the windowsill.

"I didn’t realize you were a plant person,” you comment, watching as Bucky sets the plant down and sighs.

“I’m not,” Bucky grunts. “Steve got it for me. I’ve just been trying to keep the damn thing alive.”

You gently pat Bucky’s hand, shifting the ceramic pot so it's in full sunlight. “It’s still alive- just needs to recover a little bit.”

“Recover from its owner unknowingly drowning it. Got it.”

“Right,” you definitely nod, a playful smile tugging on your lips. “Anyway, I just came to check on you. I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I just saw you yesterday,” Bucky chortles.

“Yeah, but it’s different now, right? I guess I just wanted to make sure we were okay.” 

“Of course we are. I just figured you’d want some space to get to know everyone else,” Bucky admits, specifically thinking about how close you and Steve looked yesterday. It drove him absolutely mad, wondering if you’d replaced him with, in his opinion, the better super soldier.

“Yeah,” you quietly mutter. “I mean- I know it’s not the same anymore, since we moved onto the compound. It’s not just the three of us and I guess…I just miss how it used to be, how it was before...I miss you.”

“You miss me?” he repeats dumbly.

“You know, I think you underestimate your role in my life. I'm only really myself when I'm with you. Plus,” you add, purposefully lightening your tone. “It’s only fair that I see your room considering you saw mine.”

He smiles warmly as he gestures to his completely bare, obscenely minimalist room. “Sure. Fair’s fair.”

“I immediately notice that your room is almost the same as mine. Right up to the lack of a real bed,” you audibly point out. 

He huffs in amusement, feeling better now that the two of you were alone and could interact without outside interference. “Yeah, pretty much,” Bucky agrees. 

You look around the room and notice that there’s not really much else to comment on. “And that’s pretty much it.”

“It’s as dull as I am,” he concludes.

“You’re not dull,” you retort.

“Sure am.”

“Does that make me dull? My room is the same way.”

“Your room is that way because of circumstance. Mine is this way by choice.”

“Or maybe I like my room that way.”

“Mmm…” Bucky audibly ponders. “Nope, don’t see that for you.”

"Well I still don’t think you’re dull.”

"Thanks," he nods, offering you a small, crooked smile.

You only stayed in Bucky's room for a few more minutes before you left. Your room was only a little further down the hall- both Sam and Nat's room between the two of you. With a smile still firmly on your face, you open the door to your room and immediately notice Sam waiting there for you. He sits with his arms crossed, slightly swiveling back and forth on your chair. 

"Hey, Sam," you greet, slightly confused at why he's sitting all alone in your room. 

"Hey, yourself."

"Uh...everything okay, Sam?"

"I got a very interesting call today," he vaguely replies. 

"Uh-huh?" you drawl.

"Apparently someone hasn't been showing up to therapy. That someone has missed their last two appointments."

"You should really go find that someone," you stiltedly agree, pointing your thumb in the direction of the door as you feign innocence.

"Quit playing- why haven't you been going?"

You roll your eyes in annoyance. "Well, I didn't think they'd call you. I only missed two sessions, I was busy."

Sam raises an eyebrow, turning his head in disapproval. "Busy?" 

"Busy," you shrug. 

"Stop skipping therapy," he orders.

"I'm not skipping!"

"Stop skipping therapy- I'm being serious," he scolds. "And it just so happens that you've got an appointment today. In half an hour."

"Aww," you groan. "I thought we were playing games on the big TV today."

"We will - after therapy."

"Fine," you scoff.

"You know, it's really easy to get caught up in all this," Sam continues, sitting up further on the chair to show you how serious he was about this lecture. "It's easy to distract yourself and pretend that everything's fine. I've seen more people than I can count do just that. It always comes back to bite them in the ass. Always."

"But I am fine!"

"If you were fine, you wouldn't be skipping therapy," he counters. "You're in such a hurry to prove yourself that you're putting yourself on the back burner. How are you supposed to help anyone else when you won't help yourself?"

"How can I make this lecture stop?" you groan.

"By going to therapy."

"Okay, okay. I'm going. Going right now," you say, animatedly opening the door to show yourself leaving your room. 

"I'll know if you don't go," Sam calls out before the door shuts. 

So you go. You end up on the leather brown couch unpacking all of your worst memories, your fears, and doubts.

It's part of the reason you hate coming here, it feels easier to pretend like everything's perfectly fine than to be here. 

"Are you still having nightmares?" your therapist asks.

You sit on the couch, sitting with your legs criss-crossed as you pick at the aglet of your shoelace. You quietly shrug in response, "Sometimes."

"How's everything going now that you're on the Compound? Have you settled everything with Wanda?"

"Yeah," you reply. 

"And how's Sam and... Bucky, right?"

"They're fine - I don't see them as much anymore."

"Does that bother you?" You shrug wordlessly. Your therapist sighs at your unwillingness to participate in this session, gently placing her notepad down on the coffee table. "There's a lot of changes in your life right now. It's okay to feel overwhelmed."

"No, I'm fine. I'm happy," you insist forcefully, breaking away from your previous detached, one syllable replies. 

"If you're happy then why have you been skipping sessions?" 

"Because."

"Because?" your therapist urges. 

"Because maybe I don't want to think about before anymore. Maybe I just want to be happy and I can't do that if I'm always talking about before."

"Distracting yourself doesn't change what happened, not talking about it doesn't mean it's not still there."

"Well maybe I want to pretend like it isn't there for a minute. Maybe I want to just a chance to exist."

"And you think you can't do that if you're in therapy?"

"I think I can't do that if I'm constantly reminded of before."

"Are you constantly reminded of before?"

You open your mouth to respond, before narrowing your eyes at your therapist, "Hey! How did you do that?"

"I'm a therapist - I know how to get people to talk."

You breathe deeply. "Of course I am. And most of the time, it is fine. Most of the time I am happy, but sometimes...sometimes it feels like I'm so far behind that I'll never catch up - that I'm just walking around and I have no clue where I'm going to end up at the end of all of this."

"And where do you want to end up?"

"I don't know."

-

And much to your dismay, and in spite of your best efforts, you and your therapist had what they would call a very productive conversation.

It was always the 'productive conversations' that made you feel simultaneously better and worse. They stressed the importance of communication and support systems, and telling Sam what was going on with you - none of which you were all that keen on doing.

Sam had enough on his plate, he didn't need to worry about you and your confusing and ever fluctuating mental state. 

You try to shake off the worst of the session as you walk down the hall to the common room with the big TV, where Sam told you he'd teach you how to play Mario Kart on the big TV.

Lost in thought, you walk past Wanda's room, offering Wanda and Nat a small smile through the open door, then proceeded to walk to meet the guys. 

“Hey!” Nat calls as you walk past them. 

Your eyebrows furrow as you take a few steps backward. "Me?" you ask, pointing to yourself. While you and Wanda had made amends, and were even on good terms, you were still only really close with Sam and Bucky. 

“Yes, you,” Wanda laughs. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

You innocently turn your head in confusion. “I’m not in a hurry.”

“She’s probably going to hang out with Bucky,” Nat teases, making your face blush slightly.

“I was going to hang out with all of the guys actually," you correct, walking into Wanda's room. "Sam’s going to teach us how to play Mario Kart on the big TV.”

Nat groans dramatically, “Come on, aren’t you sick of hanging with the guys?”

You shrug. “I don’t mind hanging out with the guys. They’re all really nice.”

“I mean sure, the guys are fine," Wanda says dismissively. "But don’t you ever just want to have a girl’s night?”

“Yeah! Hang out with me and Wanda, we don’t have a lot of girls around here,” Nat urges. "You shouldn't underestimate the importance of female friendships."

“I didn’t realize there was a difference,” you say, sitting down on the floor in front of Wanda and Nat.

“Of course there’s a difference. The guys are idiots for one. They’re great, don’t get me wrong, but they’re idiots.” 

“The guys are idiots?” you repeat. "How?"

“Well like…who do you go to for advice on what to wear?”

“No one. I don’t have a lot of clothes,” you explain simply. It was always a little bit weird shopping for clothes with Sam, so you didn't do it very often, and when you did, you kept it short and to the point. You often picked out the first things you saw with no regard to things that you liked or that matched your personality, or things that were simple, if you only bought dresses you didn't have to worry about pairing anything together or making Sam shop more than you absolutely had to. 

“Well we can fix that!”

“We can?” you question.

“This is why you need girl friendships! It’s not the same with the guys, half the time they’re running around here completely clueless.”

“I didn’t realize there was a difference,” you repeat.

“There’s a difference, trust me. There’s a difference.”

“Like who do you talk about Bucky with?” Wanda continues.

Your cheeks slightly warm and you shake your head like you're not quite sure what they mean, but unfortunately for you, you understood completely. “Why would I talk about James to anyone but James?”

“I think you know why," Nat chuckles. "All that tiptoeing around each other you two do- it’s cute.”

“I-I don’t tiptoe…” you stammer.

“Sure you do. You both do.”

“James tiptoes?”

“You really haven’t noticed how flustered he gets around you? How he’s always smiling at you, being nice to you?”

“Or how he’s always finding ways to touch you?” Wanda continues.

“No,” you admit, taking in all the information that they'd thrown at you. 

“Okay, I’m texting them that we’re stealing you away for the night,” Wanda says, already tapping away on her phone. 

-

“Hey, I just got a text," Steve announces to Sam and Bucky. There were all sitting there in the common room waiting as Sam set up the game console. "They said ‘we’re stealing your friend away for the night’. Then another text ‘we probably won’t give her back either’."

“I can’t believe she ditched us for the girls,” Bucky grumbles.

“Aww, don’t worry you’ll see your girlfriend later,” Steve teases to which both Sam and Bucky glare at him momentarily. 

“I don’t know why I bother with you two,” Bucky huffs, sinking further back into the couch.

“Do you think they’re talking about us?” Sam inquires, still setting up the gaming system.

“I think it’s borderline narcissistic to think that all they have to talk about is men,” Steve scoffs. "They've all got a lot in common, they've got plenty to talk about besides men."

“So you think they’re talking about us too?” Sam reiterates.

“They’re definitely talking about us,” Steve agrees.

“I’m not getting involved,” Bucky declares the second he sees the scheming face on his friends' faces. “I mean it, whatever little scheme you’re concocting I’m not involved.”

“Come on,” Steve cajoles. “You don’t want to know what your girl is saying about you.”

“She’s not my girl!” But then he pauses for a minute thinking about the things you could be talking about, each idea popping into his head getting more and more appealing. “You really think they’re talking about us?”

And that’s how the three men end up in front of Wanda’s closed door, listening into your conversation.

“I’m serious! Especially Steve, Sam, and Bucky. Have you ever been on a mission with the three of them together? It’s like you put them together and they all suddenly share one brain cell,” Nat snickers.

“We do not share a brain cell!” Sam hisses. 

“Oh, I think I know what you mean!” you interject. “I went on a mission with the three of them a few weeks ago and we had to get inside this building. They went through a wall! And I didn’t want to say anything, but there was a door right there- and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t locked.”

“So you do know what we mean!” Wanda laughs.

“There was a door?” Steve mumbles.

Bucky shrugs. “I didn’t know. Did we look for a door? I’m pretty sure we would’ve seen a door.”

“It’s all the testosterone. It messes with their heads. Like this-” Wanda remarks, flinging the door to reveal all three men in the doorway, very clearly eavesdropping.

"Told you - they're not smart," Nat wryly mumbles to you.

Next Chapter

"Two Sides Of The Same Coin" Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

[sosauced]

maybe you could write more about nyo belarus being a complete and utter degenerate yandere 👉👈 thank you in advance

He’s such a garbage person I love him.

Minors DNI

Heavy hands fall to Nikolai’s side. He can feel that familiar cold, dead feeling rush through his forearms and into his hands as his blood fills his veins again. Having your arms up for so long, holding something so heavy up off the ground can leave you feeling weak.

Having let go of the weight, he looms over the crumpled remains of another man’s body. His adrenaline fades as quickly as it came and suddenly he can feel the sting of the cut across his chest. It’s deep but he hardly notices it anymore. It blends to the rest of the scars covering his body. “Pathetic.” He spits, the wet clump splattering over the man’s blue face.

He expected you to be scared, but when he saw that bottom lip of yours quiver at the sight of him, he felt the torment. “What did you do?” You asked, but Nikolai couldn’t find the words. “Oh god.” You looked sick, you looked like you could vomit from the sight ahead of you at any moment. “He was dangerous. He got up and was following you I couldn’t just let him-“ he was cut off by your shriek. “you’re fucking dangerous!” Those words cut deeper than the man, lying dead on the floor, could ever cut him. “I’m not, I’m not dangerous, I’d never hurt you.”

“Who even are you?” That’s right. It suddenly dawned on him. He spent so much time watching you, only engaging in small ways that he never took the time to think that you didn’t know him. That was fixable.

You struggled so hard, your tears filling your eyes to the brim, large streaks of the salty liquid fell down your cheeks as Nikolai pressed his body into your, your back pinned to the wall behind you, his knee trapping your legs apart from each other. He leaned over your shorter frame. “I did it to save you. Calm down.” He sneered, almost annoyed at the commotion you were making but when you let loose a scream, his gloved hand grabbed your wrists and dragged them over your head. His other hand covered your mouth. “Calm. Down.” He demanded, his icy blue eyes locked with yours. As you breathed deeply through your nose, you whimpered as his hand grabbed your cheeks tightly. “Don’t you think you should say thank you?” He muttered, his gaze following the tears that coated your eyelashes. He’s in awe of your effortless allure. He can feel his heart rate pick back up, his urge to touch you becoming stronger with every passing moment. “I’m going to take my hand off your mouth. Don’t scream.” The fear in your face said it all, you wouldn’t make a sound. Such a good girl for him. His hand slipped off your mouth, he caught the leather glove on his hand between his teeth and pulled his long, slender fingers from them. You shake and tremble as you watch him, watching as he glances from your eyes to your reddened lips. His ring and middle fingers slipped between your lips, the tips of his fingers running over your tongue. “So warm.” Nikolai hummed. His eyes practically rolling to the back of his head as he felt up your wet mouth. You gag and cough as he slides them too far to the back of your throat. Nikolai’s elated, you can tell from the blush tinting his cheeks.

The man who, using his pure strength, held a man up and choked him til he lost his life, was thrusting his fingers in your mouth. He smirked to himself and bit his lip. You were being violated by him. Only him. He was the only one allowed to touch you, look at you, talk to you, breathe the same air as you, smell you…only him, this stranger who fell in love…no, this sick twisted attraction to you. You were too scared of him to fight back any more. “You’re such a good girl.” His body relaxed, leaning over you in a more comfortable posture. Your lips latched around his fingers and he practically moaned. “That’s my girl.” His chest rises and falls quickly, but his expression is cool as he watches you suck at his skin. “My girl.”

[hopelessromantic423]

In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning

Pairing: Ex!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After breaking up with Bucky, you miss him greatly but you don’t feel it’s your place to contact him. One sleepless night, Bucky shows up at your doorstep and you two reconcile.

*Inspired by the song In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning*

The moonlight crept through your windows and shined on the messed up comforter surrounding your legs.

You sat curled up into a ball, partly mad at yourself for not falling asleep and cold because that certain warmth that Bucky Barnes gave when he held you was gone for good.

You hadn't called, neither had he, but you would glance at your phone for hours on end just hoping he'd call. You both had neglected the time that goes into a relationship, which made you and Bucky come to a uncomfortable break up. Still, even if it was 4:00 am he could still call.

You had learned your lesson from the previous months, but you couldn't tell him that until he made up his mind. Day in and day out you would just glance at your phone with the screen completely black hoping it would light up and have Bucky's names on it.

Finally you gave up. Bucky Barnes was gone for good. You stopped staring at your phone and kept occupied with other things. Tonight's agenda was attempting to read a novel you bought three months ago and never got around to it.

That's when you heard your ringtone go off. Your eyes widened at the sight. You had to double check you weren't dreaming.

Bucky's caller ID flashed the screen and you let out a little gasp and butterflies filled your stomach. It was late at night, but you picked up right away.

"Hello?"

"Hey Doll," Bucky sounded tired but relieved you had picked up. "Um... so this is going to sound really weird but I'm outside your apartment right now. Could I see you?"

"Y-yea. Hold on," you hurriedly walked to the door with your phone pressed to your ear. As you unlocked your door, there stood the disbelieved Bucky Barnes in a pair of navy sweatpants and a grey Brooklyn high school sweatshirt. His hair was shockingly shorter, with it almost to an army length haircut.

You both dropped the phone from your ears almost in sync while taking in each other's looks. You were dressed in a pair of matching pajamas your mom had bought you at the department store with buttons haphazardly put together. Bucky always noticed how effortless your hair looked even in a bun, which was a signature of yours.

Bucky's eyes looked tired, like he hadn't slept for a month, but neither had you. The two of you waited for one person to speak just staring in each other's desperate eyes.

"What's wrong Buck? Are you hurt?"

"No, no. I just..."

You could tell this was Bucky's realization to what he was doing; but he couldn't run now.

"I can't sleep. It's been a month and I haven't slept soundly. I'm running out of options here Y/N and-"

Without a word you wrapped your arms around his neck in an embrace. If took a few seconds for Bucky to realize what was happening, but when he did his arms wrapped tightly around you almost knocking the wind out of you.

"I'm so sorry Bucky. I never meant to hurt you," you muffled in his sweatshirt. A few tears soaked into the cloth of his shoulder.

"I know doll, I know,” he said softly, “I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said those things."

Bucky pulled away and wiped a few stray tears off your cheek with his thumb. It lingered there as he took in your expression.

"You cut your hair," you said with a soft smile as your hands brushed through the short coifed hair on his head. Bucky couldn’t help but smile when you brushed through his hair, like it was something he had been waiting months to tell you about.

"I finally listened to you. Do you like it?"

"I love it, really brings out your eyes,” you teased.

"C'mon let's get some sleep,” you said tugging him into your apartment.

When you went to take a few more steps into your apartment, you felt Bucky stop so you turned to make sure everything was alright. When your eyes found him, he was standing there with a grateful, sentimental look on his face. Like he never thought something like this would happen again.

"I missed you. So much," Bucky whispered as he looked deep into your eyes hoping you understand how much he meant it, which you did.

"I missed you too James,” you reassured.

Still having your hand within his, you lead him to your bedroom and slid into the sheets. He followed never breaking touch with you. Even when you let go of his hand, his palm rested on your waist as you situated the sheets.

Tucked in Bucky's arms, that warmth you missed just a few hours ago was now all you ever dreamed of. Yes, you two had a lot to talk about that could wait till the morning.

[tgmsunmontue]

Together or not at all...

Javy/Nat 2.5k - The evolution of Javy and Natasha's relationship as viewed from the outside. Mostly. Wedding dance imagery inspiration from @beezelarts post here.

JAVY

                “That’s the worst pick up line I’ve ever heard in my life…”

                “Yeah, sorry about him.”

                “Are you responsible for him?”

                “No, but I still feel the need to apologize. He’s my best friend and I don’t want to be tarred by association,” Javy says, pulling a face and coupling it with a what-would-you-have-me-do shrug and Jake is pulling a face at him, shoving him and Javy pushes back to make sure he doesn’t knock into the young woman that Jake just failed to hit on.

                “Well, we can’t all be perfect…”

                “Not and make it look as effortless as you do…” Javy says, because she does look pretty fucking perfect.

                “Hmm. Smooth. Can I buy you a drink?”

                “Yeah, I’ll let you buy me a drink.”

                “Great. Come with me. Leave him somewhere else,” she says, giving Jake an unimpressed look.

                “You’re missing out baby,” Jake says, holding his arms out and she gives him a shake of her head. Javy follows her to the bar and she asks what he wants before placing an order with the barman.

                “I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you.”

                “Javy. Nice to meet you too.”

                “I’m only doing this to bring your friend down a peg or two.”

                “And I am more than okay with that.”

                That makes her laugh and Javy could get used to that sound, reminds him of warm drinks when he’s cold, syrup-thick warmth flooding him from the inside.

BRADLEY

                “He’s a dick Nat.”

                “Yes well, I clearly have superior taste in best friends. I’m not dating Jake Seresin, I’m dating Javy.”

                It’s an old argument, well worn. Almost out of habit after nearly two years. Bradley pulls a face because the two of them are joined at the hip whenever they’re together, too similar for his liking. Not that he can judge, considering how often he finds himself also acting like a right dick, rubbed completely the wrong way by Jake Seresin. They’re civil enough because Javy is dating Natasha, but that’s the only reason they’ve likely not come to blows. Or had semi-hate-sex.

                Fortunately their paths don’t cross that often with all the different directions deployments take them. Now though, he’s visiting Nat for a few days, their leave overlapping just enough, and he knows Javy is around; fortunately Jake is somewhere in the Pacific and he’s glad he doesn’t have to put up with him.

                He won’t ever tell Natasha who to date, but he's never thought Javy Machado was good enough for her. Far too full of himself to let Nat lower her defenses, allow her to be who she is when she doesn't have her guard up and holding her position through sheer bull headedness because those around her don't think she has the skill or talent. It's all bullshit, Bradley knows she has what it takes to be an amazing pilot.

                He shuffles quietly up the hallway, still half asleep from his unintentional nap. He can hear quiet voices and assumes Javy is over. He stands in the door and takes in the scene, Natasha’s feet wrapped in towels, rectangular bowl of water sitting on another towel and she’s obviously just had a foot soak. What isn’t usual is Javy standing there, holding two tubes in his hand.

                “You want the sweet almond stuff or the cinnamon and orange lotion? Actually, I bought you a peppermint one if you want to try that?”

                “Oooh. Peppermint sounds really nice.”

                “One second darling…”

                “You’ve been spending too much time with Jake.”

                Javy laughs and says something about him being allowed to call her darling, and having not seen Jake in months. Then he’s sitting at her feet and massaging them with lotion and he snaps his jaw shut from where it had fallen open. He hopes neither of them hear him. Javy Machado, giving Nat a foot rub. He’d never have believed it. Calling her darling.

                Okay.

                He likes that. Wants that for his friend.

                Maybe Javy Machado is an okay guy after all.

MELISSA

                Melissa Trace waits at arrivals for her sister and her boyfriend to arrive. They've been together for four years apparently, but this is the first time that their leaves have aligned with a holiday and Natasha is bringing a boy home. A man. Melissa wouldn't have been surprised if it had been a woman, Natasha is the youngest of five girls and bore the brunt of their father's growing disappointment that she wasn't the son that their parents had kept trying for. 

                Of course they'd all thought she was with Bradley Bradshaw for the longest time, but they're just friends apparently, despite the number of holidays that man has spent with them for some reason they’ve never discovered. She does know that Bradley likes Javy though; as far as approval goes, she will accept Bradley’s judgement, assumes he knows her sister and this Javy better than she does. She may have had Natasha’s childhood, but Bradley has had her adulthood so far and he trusts Javy to be part of that and she trusts Bradley.

                She can immediately tell her father approves of him, his respectful demeanor, but also his strength and bearing that makes it very clear he’s very much like the son that their father always hoped for. She’s glad for Natasha at least, that their father won’t give her boyfriend a hard time. Unlike the slightly disproving attitude he has with his other sons-in-law. She watches him watch her sister and he’s so far gone on her it’s nauseating. She’s pretty sure her husband doesn’t look at her like that any more. Maybe the fact that they spend so much time apart has something to do with it.

                She doesn’t mean to catch the conversation, is simply passing the porch where they’re standing and watching her kids play in the garden.

                “Are you going to ask for my blessing to marry her?”

                “With all due respect sir, no. Natasha can make that decision herself and I will ask her with or without your blessing.”

                Her father stands there quietly, the corner of his lip ticks slightly and Melissa knows it’s in approval, an almost proud smile that is so rare to see.

                “You have it anyway.”

                Of course he does.

JAKE

                It’s a beautiful wedding and Jake is happy. Happy that Javy is happy, and also happy himself, his own wife smiling at him across the room. He’s going to be stepping onto the dancefloor as part of the wedding party as soon as Javy and Nat have finished their first dance, and even if he poked fun at himself in his best man speech about the reason why Javy and Nat had originally gotten together he can’t doubt the fierce love and loyalty the pair have for each other.

                He’s watched their relationship develop; watched Javy just keep up his steady pursuit, softly gentle in his approach of a woman who was so outwardly prickly and defensive with everyone. He knows she’s not like that, it’s a suit of armor she dons whenever she puts on her uniform, or when she needs to put someone in their place. That she let Javy in through all of her defenses tells him that she loves and trusts him in equal measure and Javy returns it to her tenfold.

                First dance over, and there’s no way he can match the perfectly executed salsa that Javy and Natasha have clearly been practicing he leads Melissa onto the dance floor, nodding to Bradshaw who is leading one of Javy’s sisters. Bradshaw who looks firmly ensconced with the entire Trace family, which reminds him of his own relationship with Javy’s family and makes him wonder about Bradshaw’s own family. If he even has one. Despite the years of their best friends dating, being engaged, multiple deployments, they’ve never really gotten past friendly acquaintances themselves.

                “Jake, hey man, how’s It going?”

                “Bradley…” Jake says, because it’s safer for him to just try and keep his mouth shut, because he can antagonize Bradshaw without even trying and while that’s sometimes fun, doing so, intentionally or not, Javy and Nat’s wedding is not the time or place.

                “This is my boyfriend Adam. Adam, this is yet another pilot friend…”

                He’s a little surprised at the term friend, but lets it go, doesn’t make a quip about it despite the temptation.

                “Nice to meet you, this is my wife, Catherine. Bradley and Adam.”

                Then Javy’s there, Catherine being whirled away to dance with him, laughing at whatever expression is on his face and Jake holds his hand out to Natasha.

                “May I have this dance?”

MAVERICK

                He’s not even aware that they’re together, with how professional they’ve been with each other. It’s only his name, listed as spouse beside next of kin on her medical records post ejection that tells him what they really are to each other. Huh. He guesses lots of people hide their relationships in the Navy. There’s obviously been no name change post nuptials and he wonders how long ago they got married. He pushes the door to her room open, his argument with Bradley still fresh in his mind, and this entire mission feels like a blight on his soul today. The G-lock, then the bird strike, then Tom passing out at work because he’s not fucking eating because he’s also stressed about this mission.

                “Lieutenant. How are you?”

                “Fine sir. Thank you.”

                Her words are short, sharp and he bites his lip. He knows she’s listed as Bradley’s emergency contact, had thought maybe there was something there until he’d seen her emergency contact details. Her parents are Bradley’s second emergency contact and he accepts it, but it also hurts.

                “I’m glad you’re okay. It’s been an emotional day.”

                “Sir.”

                He suspects she wants to tear into him, her jaw clenching and sighs, leans back against the wall.

                “Let me have it, he’s obviously told you.”

                “He did sir. And you’ve fucked him up. He’s forever going to be pushing himself to try and be this perfect ideal aviator because you didn’t believe in him.”

                “It had nothing to do with me.”

                “With all due respect sir, that’s bullshit and you know it. He didn’t tell me until last week that you pulled his papers and we’ve been friends for years. Best friends. You don’t deserve him.”

                He swallows again, because that cuts deep. She’s obviously furious with him and he’s immensely glad that Bradley has apparently found a friend, and a family when he ran and left him behind. A person so hellbent on protecting him.

                “I only want to keep him safe.”

                “That was naïve of you sir. He can keep himself safe. And make his own decisions,”

                She meets his eyes and they’re filled with steel and he nods, accepts what she’s saying, sees a silhouette in the door and turns to see Machado standing there.

                “Sir…” Lieutenant Machado says, face impassive as he looks between Trace and himself. He shakes his head slightly, not needing another kid nearly thirty years his junior decide he deserves to be shoved to the ground.

                “She’s just telling me some home truths Lieutenant. Nothing I didn’t already know. Congratulations on your wedding by the way, I hope you have a long and successful marriage.”

NATASHA

                She’s not sure what it is, whether it’s still a post-ejection symptom, despite the fact that nausea isn’t usually something they’re told to watch for. Wonders if it’s part of the let-down after the mission, the adrenaline crash as they realize that despite all the odds they all managed to come away from that experience alive, but it’s been days now. She feels like she had it easy, knowing she didn’t have to worry about Javy, that he was safely back on the carrier, knows Javy isn’t dealing so well with the memory of both her and Jake taking part, despite them safely returned. Coupled with the fucking shit show that Bradley and Maverick ended up in was enough drama for them to all deal with. Almost losing Javy to G-lock had been awful, but she’d had no time to face the reality of a life without him before the bird strike, her ejection and facing her own mortality before she was then taking part in the mission.

                Maybe that’s it. All of these huge things have happened and she hasn’t had time to decompress and reflect on any of it. What physical symptoms might present when she’s been under so much stress in such a short period of time, despite it being the sort of thing she has spent her entire adult life training for.

                Then there’s her concern for Bradley, and his apparently mended-overnight relationship with Maverick. She doesn’t know what’s going on there, she’ll forever be grateful to Maverick for somehow pulling Javy out of G-lock, but she’s wary because of his history with Bradley and he fucked up and hurt Bradley so badly. When did everything get so messy? At least her marriage with Javy is solid, steady and deeply reassuring. She wanders through the base housing, feeling restless, nothing to do yet with her leave, not until the two of them have decided on what they want to do. She’s feeling a relaxing week on a tropical island would be ideal.

                She pulls out her phone, opens the calendar app and looks at potential dates that would work for their leave. The last few weeks have been hectic, one of the few positives being with Javy again despite their deployments being in different squads… She bites her lip. There had been a lot of sex when they’d seen each other after months apart, and while they’re careful, and she’s on the contraceptive pill, they’re also not always careful. She’s going to need to do a test to rule it out either way and she sits down abruptly.

                “Hey, I’m back. Got your favorite, whoa, are you okay?”

                “I think I might be pregnant.”

                “I… What do you need?”

                “A hug…”

                He’s there, arms wrapped around her instantly, smelling like the sandwich shop he’s been in and she feels safe, and like she can take on the world simultaneously.

                “I love you. You tell me what you want to do and I’m there every step of the way.”

                “No. No we make this decision together. We talked about having kids.”

                “We talked about having kids later, this isn’t quite the timeline you were wanting…”

                “Things change. I don’t want to wait, I want to… I think I’m done.”

                “How about you leave that decision for later and we just take it one major life-changing thing at a time okay?”

                “Okay,” she agrees, leaning into him and squeezing tightly.

                “Love you. Whatever happens we can face it together.”

                Together.

                She can handle that.

HANGSTER sequel if you're interested