#you know that image of the two houses side by side and one is pastel pink and purple and white and the other is solid black

[nicksbestie]

Nooks And Crannies - M. Sturniolo

a series

part four (read part three here)

Summary : You always seem to be somewhere in the bookstore Matt works at, never buying anything, just reading, and while Matt is technically not supposed to talk to customers for so long while he's on the clock, he can't help himself.

Warnings : none yet!

Word Count : 1254

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : sorry this one took me so long!!!

You hadn’t lied when you said that you were going to come back to The Ivy to both spend time reading new books there, but also to spend time with Matt.

It was a win for both of you, but it had now been a week since you had been to The Ivy, and Matt couldn’t deny the disappointment racked through him every time he went through an entire shift at work without seeing you there. You weren’t avoiding him, but you were trying to get settled in at your new place, get everything finished up, and it had gotten a little overwhelming trying to balance the final touches of moving and also work. It wasn’t for another two days until the weekend came around that you finally made yourself get out of the house, deciding to go back. 

You’d been holed up in your new home for days on end, only leaving for necessities, and you knew that some outside time would really do you some good, and taking a walk down to the bookstore would do perfectly. Not to mention, you would get to see Matt again, which you had been looking forward to. You’d only interacted once, but you’d had a nice conversation, and it seemed like he enjoyed talking to you as well, so you hoped he would be there today. What you didn’t know was that Saturdays were Matt’s day off, and you had decided to show up on a Saturday. 

You couldn’t deny the fact that you were slightly disappointed when you showed up and there wasn’t a familiar face in the store, but you shook it off, knowing that Matt had a life too, one that had been established where you lived for a while now. He didn’t live at the bookstore. (Matt would argue that he almost did, at this point.) You browsed for a little while, getting the same coffee from the cafe that you had gotten last time, taking your time and moving to the back of the store where the small hidden room was, hoping that nobody else would be occupying it. Having not explored the full bookshop yet, you wandered around the windows, loving the sunny cushions up right under hanging light bulbs. The place really did feel very homey.

As you made your way around, you picked up a couple of extra books, smiling to yourself when you noticed how much more relaxed you felt. You fully credited it to the fact that this was the one other place in the new city that you really felt familiar in, and that so far, you had set the bar for amazing experiences here. The more you wandered around, the more you fell in love with the place, and you noticed every spot where someone had transformed this building from whatever had previously occupied it. You could tell a lot of hard work had gone into this building, and a lot of love had poured from the hands that had created it. Always an artist, your imagination flooded with all of the possibilities of what this shop could have looked like before.

It caused beautiful scenes to flow through your mind, images of the walls being painted over with a gorgeous pastel color, someone nailing up bookshelves, the trucks of books being delivered. Glancing over at the small cafe tucked into the corner, you could see the construction of it play before your eyes, like a miniscule projector was inserted right behind them. You probably looked a little silly to anyone just passing by, as you were just standing there, letting the creativity inside your mind run wild. Shaking yourself out of it, you finished taking your slow lap around the store, and walked back to the tiny room that you had been sitting in just a week prior, wrapping your hand around the handle as you pulled the bookcase to the side, heart plummeting when you caught sight of another person inside of it. The disappointment in your mind immediately disappeared when the person sitting with their back to you turned around, hearing the slight sound of the shelf sliding open.

“Welcome back!” 

You smiled, closing the “door” behind you, setting your books and coffee down before sitting across from him.

“Matt! I thought you weren’t working today.” 

He smiled back at you, picking up one of the books from your stack, looking at the back of it. 

“I’m not. Just here to hang out for a while.” 

He handed you the book back, not saying much while you read the back of the book he had been reading before you walked in. You handed it back to him before you spoke again.

“You’d think you wouldn’t want to spend your free time in a place that you work in, but with it being this place, it makes sense.”

“I love working here, and I love being here whenever as well. It gets me out of my house, and it gives me a comfortable space to be in.”

You looked around, nodding.

“This is such a comforting little room.” 

“It is, isn’t it? I found it my first week working here when I was trying to find a place to escape questioning customers for my break.” 

He laughed a small bit after that statement, and you laughed with him. Having worked in retail before, you knew exactly what that feeling was like, and you, too, had often tried to avoid people while you were on your break. 

“It’s nice to be here, I was hoping I’d see you. I can’t lie, I was slightly disappointed when I thought you weren't working.”

Matt gave you a playful look over the edge of his pages. 

“Wow, have I got you that hooked already?” 

You rolled your eyes, the smile on your face telling him that you weren’t actually annoyed with him.

“Well, I have only lived here for a week. I have no other friends.”

“So we’re friends?” 

You looked back down at your book, embarrassment heating up your face, scared that you overstepped.

“Not if you don’t want to be.” 

His head snapped back up from where he had been reading.

“No, no, I would love that! I’m honored that I get to be the first one.”

He smiled at you, and the embarrassment slowly faded, smiling back at him, the moment interrupted by a phone ringing. Matt immediately took his phone out of his pocket, answering it. Before he picked up, you could see the name “Nick” flash across the screen, remembering that Nick was one of his brothers.

“Sorry, one second.”

You nodded, returning to your book and catching Matt’s end of the conversation, but tuning out the most of it as to give him a little bit of privacy. It wasn’t until he hung up that you tuned back in, noticing Matt was standing up.

“I’m so sorry, my brothers need help with something at home, I have to go.” 

You could see the genuine sorrow on his face, and you gave him a reassuring smile.

“No worries! I’m sure I’ll catch you around. It was great to see you again!” 

He was about to leave when he turned back around, pulling one of the paper bookmarks from the store out of his pocket and scribbling on it.

“Here’s my number. Friends hang out, right? Text me.”

He left before you had a chance to say anything, leaving you with a new contact number and a smile on your face.

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[moldspace]

a new zine, about an estate sale and what the things we leave behind say about us

will be up for purchase on my shop soon

#art #my art #zine #short story #islamaphobia tw #you know that image of the two houses side by side and one is pastel pink and purple and white and the other is solid black #well i feel like thats my sculpture compared to my zines/comic work #so sorry if you were expecting brightly colored guys that IS usually what i make and ill get back to it soon #it's just that once in a while i draw a meandering and melancholy black and white diary comic #:^) and usually it's about death/loss/rememberance (theme of the last two comics ive done + the new one im currently working on LMAO)

[uglypastels]

Request:)))

Eddie being shocked when he saw reader (cheer captain) with her own tattoo's on her bare back and shoulders at a random store.

AHHHHH OMG please I love you.

i hope you like this!!

warnings: swearing, Eddie being a bit... idk, he stares a lot (but not in a super creepy way)

Never, in a million years, would Eddie have even imagined seeing you here. 

Miss Perfectly Tight Ponytail and Pastel Leg Warmers. Lady Cheer of the Highest Order of Hawking High… it could not possibly be you he saw looking through the rock record section in this dingy little music store. 

He did not mean to stare, but he also could not get himself to look away.

At first, he thought he was dreaming. You had entered the store, the light from the entrance wrapping you up in sunbeams like a halo. You practically sauntered inside, with your head held high, that damn ponytail swinging from side to side like it always did in the hallway, making your way over determinedly to the back of the store. His eyes were glued to you like to a car crash at the side of the road– although, perhaps, he had been the one that totalled. 

He tried his best to get his attention back to whatever he was doing—right, looking for a new amp cable since something had bitten through his old one.

Doubt you ever had to deal with those kinds of problems, he thought. Probably lived in a big, nice house– two stories, picket fences, a double-door garage and probably a tiny dog to yap at anyone who dared near—one of those neighbourhoods where he would be put on a watchlist just for walking by. 

His mind should have been on those damn cables, but he couldn't concentrate knowing you were standing behind him. His curiosity was taking over him, wanting to know what you were looking for. Was it a specific song or album? Were you trying to find something you had been looking for already or wanted to explore something new? For yourself or as a gift? Weren't you dating someone? Yeah, that dude Tony from the football team… why was he even thinking about this? 

From the corner of his eye, he saw you flip through the records, one by one, barely giving them the time to read the titles. So, no, you knew what you were doing. Hunting for that one specific thing, the image already clear in your mind. Maybe he could help you? He knew the store basically like the back of his hand… better even, since he usually forgot the stuff he would scribble down with pen or marker on it when lost in his ideas. 

Done with one row, you searched through the next one, bottom lip between your teeth as you concentrated. Now a gross feeling was coming over him. He should not have been looking for this long. It wasn't right. Shaking his head, he looked away, back at the amp chords. He had already narrowed it between the two– 

'Hi, excuse me,' he heard your voice speak up, and his attention flew straight back to that other side of the room. You had walked over to one of the employees of the store, asking for help, 'do you guys have any Mötley Crüe?' 

Eddie listened on in shock. He had never been the one to dismiss someone's interest because of their appearance, but… there was no way you would be into that? At this point, it was with fascination and admiration that he watched as the store employee led you to the racks of records you had just been next to. He saw how you patiently waited for the clerk to went through the stock, finding the one item you had somehow glazed over. He noticed that beaming smile that appeared on your features as you thanked the person, the Mötley Crüe record now in hand. 

But you weren't done. You kept on searching for something. With a huff, you turned around to the opposite side of the aisle, and that is when Eddie Munson felt his heart get stuck in his throat. 

It was nearly visible, at the edge of your shirt hem, a dark line across your lower back, stretching over your skin– that was a tattoo, no doubt about it. 

y/n, cheerleader captain y/n, had a secret tattoo. Who would have thought? 

Eddie couldn't contain the smirk at that thought. He was seeing a whole new side to you. One that was dark and gritty, apparently. And so many more thoughts started harassing his brain. 

What was the tattoo of? How many people knew about it? Certainly, your cheer friends couldn't have– that shit is definitely against school regulations. Hell, the number of times he had gotten sent to the principal's office wearing sleeves short enough to show his bat tattoo… and he had never encountered you there. No, we wouldn't want that kind of scandal on your permanent record. 

He occupied himself with the record in front of him– country gospel, whatever that was– as you walked over to the counter and paid for your haul. With the sweetest smile, you thanked the clerk again, and with the purchase in hand, you made your way over to the door. 

But you did not take the shortest way to the exit. You walked around, through another aisle. You walked right towards him. 

'Hey Eddie,' you said, more cheerfully than anyone had ever said his name before. It made the hairs at the nape of his neck stand up. 

'Uhm, hey–' he choked, so you filled in the gap. 

'y/n.' 

'No, yeah. I know.' He didn't want you to think he didn't know his name. Although, maybe that would humble the queen of Hawkins High a bit, huh? If one of her subjects didn't even know her name. But it was too late for that. He cleared his throat, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes. 'What, uhh, what are you doing here?' 

'Just doing some shopping,' you held your new records close to your chest. 'You?' 

What was he doing again? He couldn't think straight. The only thing occupying his mind there was that ink over your back. Would you have any other secret tattoos? Of course, they would have been just as well hidden as that one, with how small your cheerleading costume is and all… 

'I'm just–' c'mon, for fucks sake, what was it?' 'looking for a new amp chord.' He finally pointed back to the display of things behind him. 

'Oh, do you play?' You asked enthusiastically. 

'Yeah. Guitar. I'm in a band… actually.' He should just shut up before he made it worse, 'Corroded Coffin.' Too late. 

'Ooh, cool.' Those words could have sounded cheap and condescending, but you had actually sounded interested. 'Do you guys play anywhere?' 

'Yeah, yeah. At the Hideout. Every Tuesday night.' 

'I might have to go and check you out then.' You started walking, passed him right by. When you were standing chest to chest in the narrow aisle, you stopped, however. 'You know, get my fair share in this time.' 

'What?' Eddie blinked slowly. 

'Nothing.' You flashed your smile and continued walking. Almost at the door, you turned around. 'It's a dragon, by the way.' With your hand on your hip, fingers placed in a way that when you walked out of the door, Eddie could see you pointing at what he now could see was the tail of the mythical creature on your lower back. 

When the door behind you closed, Eddie fell to his knees, biting his cheek, cringing at his own stupidity, but also really hoping he would see that upcoming Tuesday. 

The End.

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thank you for reading!! please reblog and comment or send an ask with some thoughts <3 i love to hear them

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x cheerleader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #imagine #blurb #fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #request

[marialikeswritting]

Howell wizard x fem reader

'Nice to meet you'

Fluff/comedic fic

When I tell you this man is my type of man he is my type of man,well I have multiple but today it is his time to shine

Also saw not much of him and I wanted something with a fem reader dont worry more gn reader with this guy will be made by me in da future

Also I just learned about giff images so you better pray I dont abuse my power

Anyways here you go fellow simps

____________________________________________

The first time you two had ever knew of each others existence was when you met Cass, you weren't in the boxing club like her,but you had to be since toast was your friend or she just said it often enough you just don't mind at that point

Cass and you actually hung out together alot even more after she left boxing, she taught you a few defens skills and you...well you just had a lot to do,and what I mean is you where all over the place sometimes you'd model for her in your new knitted cardigan and awesome new dresses,next you both are having a karaoke battle your decent to say the least

"Hey (y/n) come with me" said Cass who had been knocking on your door on a Saturday afternoon "bruh I just woke up" Cass gave her a look "you think I care. Come on let's get you dressed" the greenette drag her friend to her room then to the closet,and opened it "pick an outfit you crazed fashionista" (y/n) huffed "fine"

After getting dressed Cass left with her friend out of the house

"So where are we going Cass" (y/n) looked to her friend as she smoothed her hair "we are going to the cat cafe one of my brothers made you haven't been ther and I just realised that haha" you looked at her shocked "I didn't know you had brothers let alone a cafe?!" "What yes I have multiple times I've told you how annoying they can be dummy!!" Cass flick her friends forehead,(y/n) winced in the pain " I have a bad memory Cass you know thissssss" (y/n) wines "yeah okay whatever sparkles now come on your gonna love the cute cats we have" Cass persuaded and it seemed to work since her friend seem to lift her head a little and smiled

Then out of nowhere "*sniff* ooo is that vanilla" she question (y/n) on the perfume she laughed a little and then responded "yup spot on once again bestie" Cass celebrated a little in the corner as she walked along side her friend "so how many brothers you go Cass" she looked at her friend "I got six and they are a handful but I deal with it I guess"

After walking along the sidewalk for a few minutes the two arrived at the cat cafe

"Here we are" Cass extended one arm dramatically making (y/n) roll her eyes "okay now let's get inside dummy" Cass pushed (y/n) to the door and got the two inside "EVERYONE I BROUGHT MY FRIEND GET YOUR BUTT'S OUT HERE" sounds of plates crashing and shuffling where heard from the kitchen making (y/n) a little concerned

"Hi I'm bee nice to meet ya" a girl with brown hair and a happy smile greeted "oh hello bee I'm (y/n)" she introduced herself

Bee smiled and ofer something from the tray she was holding"here try this their supper good" "oh uhh-" then out of nowhere someone bust burst through the door from the kitchen and started yelling at bee "bee you better not be eating the food of some customer..again"

Bee seem to panicked "no no I would never I was just uhhhh...oh yeah greeting Cass's friend (y/n)!! look isn't she just gorgeous right!?!" The guy in question turned to face the girl that bee had just referred to"hello-*choke* *cough**cough*"he fidgeted whither his hair

He was stunned looking at the girl right before him she was absolutely gorgeous and her outfit elevated how she looked 100 times she wore a light pastel green and pink cardigan a pastel yellow skirt whith little hearts even he noticed she was just so pretty as him heck maybe even more she looked so so

"Cute." Did he just said that oh no he did

He slap his mouth shut and went running to the kitchen leaving a confused and pink-dusted cheeks (y/n) she hold her hands and smiled gently flattered "thanks" she mumbled under her breath "what was that" Cass turned to her friend who quickly dismissed her question "you know what whatever let me introduce you to the guys so you obviously just met Howell who has for some reason called you cute as a first Impression, then there's wesley say hi" he waved at you "good, now then there's Crisp obsessed white clown stuff" crisp looked offended then huffed and turned around to do something "then there's Deckard"

Time went on and she kept on introducing her brothers but there was only one thing on (y/n)'s mind that guy Howell he seemed like the type of guy she would like to be around even by the short interaction she had to admit he looked supper adorable and kinda hot in her opinion she just must befriend him at once! Was all she thought

"Here try this" Cass offered (y/n) another plate of food made by the lovely Deckard "oh thanks" she dived into the food as it was placed before her

Cass went into the kitchen her happy expression faded as she looked at her brother Howell "are you really gonna stay in here the whole time she is out there or are you gonna be a manchild and mope around because you dont know how to start a conversation whith my friend" he blushed at his own embarrassment from earlier "no way I cant I lost my touch I'm not extravagant as I usually am I cannot face her" he retorts "come on you cant stay in here forever dummy" she looked at him with a waist eyebrow making him sigh "whatever you do you but ima murder you when we go home" he shivered at the tought

He had two options it seemd one get over it and talk to the pretty pastel girl that is beyond the kitchen doors and possibly face more embarrassment on his end

Or two get his ass whipped by his sister who would not hold back even if he'd beg and bribe her with anything he owned

Better go with the first option he couldn't risk bribing Cass with his beautiful workout equipment it looked better on him anyways

So what found fake confidence he walked out the doors and straight to the table the pretty pastel girl sat at,as he approach he sprotted bee not doing her work "bee" his tone and demeanor change and bee tense up as the other girl whatch in curious at the following interaction,he placed a hand to bee's shoulder "could you please get orders I can handle stuff here thanks byeeee" bee quickly scattered out of there,leaving Howell with (y/n) he nervously pulled out a little notebook to go for others a pen and then looked straight at the (h/c) girl "hi there uh what's your name cutie?" Wow now he's bold "I'm (y/n), and you are cariño~" (y/n) leander forward whit her elbows propped at the table

she was bold too I mean ofcourse she was she's well it was obvious to Cass as she looked at the two "ugh she's into him fuck he better not mess things up or ima kick his sorry butt" they all stopped and collectively thought 'he better not mess up' Cass then turned to them "why are you standing there get to work dummies!!" They all scattered to do their won things "*sigh* I'm surrounded by idiot's" the she went to go back to work

"So what would you like to try from the menu. Anything interests you cutie" Howell smiled making the girl's heart flutter he was just so different from the short time she has been in his presence a good different and a hot one at that "well I would like to try you're waffles" he raised an eyebrow "waffles it is then,how do you want them hmm?" (Y/n) put a hand on her chin and thought for a moment "I want then with syrup, chocolate chips, and wip cream please" she put her menu down and Howell took it "coming right up"

Time then seem to fly by as the two talked and she got a few more things to eat,the food was just to good then (y/n)'s phone buzz and she picked it up and saw that she had to go "awe man I got to go" she spoke in a sad tone,Howell looked at her with his own sad smile "oh well do you want the check now?" She looked at him and smiled and smiled a few hundred Bill's "this will about cover it" she got up and started to walk away "hey wait this it too much and you need your change!" She then wrote some numbers on a piece of napkin(y/n) looked back at the green hair boy and smirked "it's fine pretty boy you can pay me back with a date and her you go" he nearly choked on his own saliva and looked at the paper she gave him confused "wait what!" She was out the door by then and he went after her "I said what I said see ya!!" He stood there stunned and red tinted cheeks he hadn't noticed his siblings right the with him until cass put a hand on his shoulder the aura became tense "your gonna take her on that date right" it sounded more of a command than a question,he gulped "why ofcourse what kind of a man would I be to ditched such a fine woman such as her" he defended himself still blushing cuasing the other's to notice "ooo Howells got it bad!!!" "20 buck they get together" "Ha 30 if they get married by the end if the month" cass turned around "Hey that my bestfriend your talking about!" She stared to chase them around while they all scream in laughter

Howell was left outside to think about (y/n) she ayre was something truly different he then took out the napkin she gave him and once again was shocked "she-she gave me her NUMBER AAAAHH OH MY GOSH!!!" Bee then came from beside him "wow you scored today nice" she finger gun him and he got annoyed "go back to work bee" she quickly oblige and left immediately leaving Howell alone to stare happily at the napkin

While (y/n) was waking around the sidewalk smiling to herself about the cute pretty boy she had just met "hehe this will be great" she stared at the sky and thought about the endless possibilities that will happened with the so call pretty boy she had now decided to nickname just that pretty boy hehe

Something was going to happend that would change the path of these two people and it was going to be awesome

#howell wizard #howell wizard x reader #bee and puppycat x reader

[attaboy-art]

idk how to use tumblr so pardon if i did this wrong somehow, but for requests, could you draw hersh and des hanging out? (i've been desperate for bronev sibling content lately) also love ur art

okay so im gonna put these under a readmore because theres A Lot. so click below to see the art ‼️ but rhis was super super fun and i hope u all enjoy

[Image ID 1: A digitally drawn mini-comic on a pastel red background of Hershel Layton and Desmond Sycamore. Panel one shows Hershel in the open door of his home, happily greeting Desmond, who is nervous and holding a suitcase. Desmond starts with, "Good morning, Professor. Sorry for dropping in so suddenly, but could I step in for a second?", and under his breath he says "Don't make a scene. Let me in your house right now." The professor replies, "Of course! Flora just made some tea. Would you like a cup?" and whispers back, "I don't know what you want but you better be normal about it." The next panel shows the door slamming behind Desmond, who is loosening his tie and looks disheveled. He drops the nervous act and angrily says, "Listen, Layton. I need to crash for a few days and you're going to let me. Do you understand?" The third and final panel shows Hershel silently stare, annoyed, for a moment, before sighing and conceding with, "I am a patient man." /.End ID 1.]

[Image ID 2: A collection of fully colored digital drawings of Hershel Layton and Desmond Sycamore. On the left is Desmond and Hershel on their way to Gressenheller University to explain away one of Hershel's adventures. Desmond is wearing a casual black turtleneck and beige pants, while Hershel is in his usual attire. Desmond mockingly says, "Oh, don't worry. Your big brother is here to protect you from the scary school board." and Hershel responds with an annoyed "Mhm." The drawing on the top right shows Desmond sleeping on Hershel's couch under a white blanket that covers most of his body. He is wearing a purple satin sleep mask with closed eyes embroidered on top, black socks, and a deep blue satin bonnet. One of his legs is propped up on the armrest of the couch and the other is folded close to his body, and he has one hand on his chest while the other is under his blanket. The final drawing in the lower right shows Desmond, getting ready in the morning, looking in the bathroom mirror. He has natural kinky hair and one hand held out expectantly. He is wearing a white button-down shirt with the top few buttons undone and a loose tie around his neck. He's saying to an off-screen Hershel, "Layton, get me my iron or you're stupid." Hershel protests, "But I'm—" but is cut off by Desmond saying "I don't care. Get it for me. I'm older, so you have to." /.End ID 2.]

[Image ID 3: An uncolored digital comic done in brown ink on a pastel red background. Panel one shows Desmond, sitting on his heels, looking triumphant with a monopoly board in front of him. He says, "Heh. You've lost, Layton. The Free Parking Spot is too far to reach in one roll, and I've calculated that your chances of landing on your one property on this side of the board are next to zero. Face it. I win." Panels 2 and 3 show Desmond and Hershel on either side of the board, with Hershel looking thoughtfully at it as he rolls the dice. Panel 4 shows that he rolled two sixes, and he exclaims, "Oh! Doubles!" before moving his piece, the top hat, through the crowded board and onto his property. Panel 6 shows Hershel happily saying, "Safe! How lucky." Panel 7 is a close-up of Desmond, unresponsive and silent on a solid brown background. Panel 8, the final panel, shows Desmond holding the board over his head and scattering money, houses, cards and more everywhere, while Hershel shields his face and turns away, yelling "Desmond!!" in shock. /.End ID 3.]

#WHEW #not shown are my 5+ other layers of Edgy Desmond Angst comic concept #but i decided id just stick with these #but ya as i said previously. this was a lot of fun!!!!!!!!!!!!! so much fun i forgot to stop #des and hersh being siblings is something that is so . Augh #i love when brothers annoy the shit out of each other <- he is projecting #but anyways. this was super duper fun 2 work on #and creds to my friend vega for the monopoly comic idea <333 he said it like months ago and ive never stopped thinking about it #also this request reminded me that i really need to start my Bronev Siblings Shitty Reunion fic #anyways #art #fanart #illustration #professor layton #desmond sycamore #hershel layton #comic #fan comic #sketches #pl

[angeldeviloshi]

Aki on another household shopping trip with Denji and Power and finding himself taking a little too long looking at the mugs. They don't really need one since there's already enough for the three of them at home and potential guests.

Specifically, there are these round egg-shaped mugs with ice-cream prints and designs on them, they look suitable for having ice-cream with too... they would go well with a certain someone he knows, they don't really need it though. But would it hurt to have one at home just in case, on the off chance that he comes over? They're on a special discount right now.

Aki picturing that certain someone holding the mug with both hands, blowing on the hot coffee Aki poured for him to cool it down before sipping on it. Digging into mug ice-cream with a spoon...

Which design should Aki go for, which one would he like? Wait why is he taking so long to think about this? What is he fantasising about. The Angel Devil doesn't care about stuff like this. The mug will more than likely be collecting dust in his cabinet instead.

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

The Angel Devil has no idea why Aki brought him back to his apartment. They're off work, he couldn't wait to get back and hit the sack than to deal with what else Aki wants him to do in this human's house.

Those two imps don't seem to be around. The Angel Devil asks Aki if he's not concerned about getting killed right under his nose by a devil without the protection of his chaotic wards in his own home. The devil could escape just like that too.

Aki tells him that "the devil" wouldn't bother with that much effort before telling him there's ice cream in the fridge. The Angel Devil hates how Aki could easily dismiss and placate him like this at the same time. Aki hands him a mug of ice cream and the Angel Devil can't help but take note of its peculiar design: pastel ice cream prints with small angel wings on the side. It couldn't be, could it?

"Whose mug is this?"

The Angel Devil can't imagine Aki being a collector of zany mugs, the image of this mug doesn't seem to fit the other two residents of this apartment either, but he could be wrong. Maybe they did something and Aki is letting him use one of their mugs to spite them.

"It was just lying around, I might as well use it."

Not a helpful answer but it's not like there's any point in pressing it anyways, he'll just impose for the ice cream this human offered him.

Denji barges in through the front door loudly proclaiming his return soon after, that means Power shouldn't be far behind either. There's going to be a storm in this apartment the moment they see him there eating from one of their mugs. At least the devil isn't going to be here for long, he has no plans to anyway.

Denji freezes as he spots the Angel Devil in the living room wondering what he's doing here, Aki reminds him to wash up before dinner.

So Aki brought him here, why though? He catches sight of the ice cream patterned mug the Angel Devil's holding.

"Hey, is this why you ran off at the cashier to grab that like last week? You made me hold up the line for this??"

"I was just using up my points." The human sounds uncharacteristically defensive here, the Angel Devil thinks.

"But aren't those already on discount? I thought points only-"

"Go take a bath."

"Okay, sheesh." Denji concedes taking his leave from the living room but not before giving Aki a knowing, skeptical look that Aki returned with a stern glare, telling him to drop it.

So, this is how the human is like at home huh. The Angel Devil is amused.

"Do you do this for all your buddies?" The Angel Devil asks holding up the mug.

"I don't have the room for that." the human replies curtly.

Dodging the question again. Does he realise how much he gives himself away when he's like this? Or maybe this is simply how he's choosing to convey his sentiments.

"But I guess, it's not so bad having even just one thing to cherish the fact that they lived, that they're still living...something like that..."

The Angel Devil could hear the roar of a typhoon ringing in the back of his mind as he listens to Aki. A silent acknowledgement.

That's right, this human doesn't have long to live. The devil might very well be the last one for him, he wants to cherish this partnership with the devil, huh. This human is making him eat out of this tangible sentimentality of his, presented with the taste of indulgent sweetness that the devil has become addicted to.

The Angel Devil hands the now empty mug to Aki, asking for a drink this time. When he gets the mug back again, he's greeted with steamy, aromatic black liquid. Freshly brewed coffee. First something sweet, now something bitter from this human. How fitting.

Holding the mug up to his lips, the Angel Devil blows into the mug to cool the coffee down. Just as Aki had pictured in his mind. Taking a sip, the drink is unmistakably bitter, yet carries with it a pleasant richness and warmth along the devil's tongue and down his throat.

The front door slams open a second time as Power boisterously declares her return, wasting no time with her demands for dinner. That's his cue to leave right after he finishes drinking.

Just before the Angel Devil could say anything as he returned the mug to Aki...

"It's almost dinnertime, I'll send you back afterwards. Go wash your hands."

"Huh?"

"A glutton like you should still have room for dinner, no? I'm trying to clear out the fridge so..."

Aki averts his gaze, unable to finish his sentence. So...what? His eyes return to the Angel Devil with a look that suggests the devil would have the words for what it is he was trying to convey.

The Angel Devil looks down. The mug in front of his eyes. "Only...if the food is good."

"Of course it is." The human sounds confident.

Leaving the mug on the table, the Angel Devil stands up to have his hands washed at the restroom as Aki requested.

How will the human flavour his sentimentality next? The Angel Devil didn't wonder for long as a screech tore into his ears the moment he stepped into the hallway, into the Blood fiend's line of sight.

He hopes the human could provide him with seconds for having to put up with the impending mayhem at the dinner table.

#brainrot #csm akiten #akiangel #character: hayakawa aki #character: angel devil #csm denji #character: power #an 推しカプ story of the 推し’s カップ

[chaotic-nick]

Note: Woohoo first Ren-ren fic, also what do you guys think about the new banners?

CW: Established relationship, not actual smut but is implied, humping, mentioned dacryphilia at the end. (+ please let me know if I missed anything or used a different tag)

Wordcount: 654

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

To his friends, Eren’s crafted the perfect excuse for missing out on the weekends of getting frunk at the houses scattered along the area of their university. It was senseless to him that they all would rather drink. At least that’s what he made them believe, diligently keeping up the image of a perfect son of a Doctor.

He’s made it clear in his stern tone after Jean’s teasing that he was missing out in his college life that if he wasn’t studying, he’d be at his brother’s house. Studying of course, but with Zeke’s textbooks that were broader.

Or “He’s with his dad in one of the clinics,” Mikasa answered for him when he’d disappear quickly after class. “Said he wanted to see the actual application of something.”

Eren may be the wild one in their friend group, always getting caught in arguments, but they had to give it to him for maintaining a routine and sticking to it. Almost made Sasha and Mikasa copy him.

That’s the perfect image he built on lies.

When really he’s far worse than all of them combined together when drunk in the comfort of his dorm. Another lie, he’d rather say that it was a cheap dorm than tell them it was a two-bedroom apartment in the city’s compounds. A high school gift when he graduated and Grisha’s way of telling his son that he was still close to him and he could run to the hospital if he wanted to go home.

Not that Eren would do such a thing. He wasn’t a lost first-year anymore.

On weekends he enjoys the comfort of his girlfriend, a year below him, coming to his apartment. What started as a reason to study together and catch up on their bonding time became their code of spending the day edging each other.

He’s the absolute worse, completely the opposite of what he told his friends. Laying on his couch, an arm supporting his head and the other lazily on his girl’s waist. Admiring the curve of her body accentuated by the length of her hair, she rocked her hips at the pace she liked. 

Satisfied hums eased his tense shoulders, her hands resting on his chest. “I needed this,” feeling the growing wetness that was forming in her panties, his arousal became stronger. A hazy look on her eyes when she opened them stopped him from latching his mouth on the exposed skin. “So, how was your week?”

“Really?” He deadpanned. Her hips rocked harder, pressing her pussy on his tip, demanding an answer. “Fuck— okay, fine.”

Unsatisfied with that, she stopped. Her eyes told him that she wasn’t tolerating his . . . incomplete answers. “It was okay, babe. I missed you a lot.” At this, her face softened, guiding his hand on her waist as she resumed grinding on him. “Would be better if I could fuck you now,” he mumbled. Tapped his fingers on her waist. “Lemme see.”

She giggled, as her knees dug deeper for balance on the couch. “Missed you, too, ‘ren.” Showing the dampened spot of the pastel panties he asked— begged her to wear. “So much.”  Her thumb moved the side of her panties collecting enough of her own wetness, to taste herself. Eyes never breaking away from his darkened ones.

On weekends, Eren would rather have his girlfriend hold onto him, begging him to let her have a release. No, it was for this weekend after a week’s worth of late nights. He needed a release. At the other weekends they spent their time together, he liked being her stress relief, being told how good he was in just sitting there.

Laying her down with his cock in hand he guided it to her clothed pussy. Head pressed against her clit. “Love you,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss on the side of her temple.

As if making her cry wasn’t on his mind.

Taglist:

@sukosie @blondeboyfriend @killerbananas @rowsn @sinnerofthewalls @soaringmirror @petitachi @axoxtxhxh @stigandr-the-cat @ghost-party @hoestarave2 @ririthu

#nick writes fics #eren yeager #aot fics #aot x y/n #aot x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren x y/n #eren jeager smut #eren jeager

[tomtenadia]

A Little Braver - 68

weekend chapter.. I like this one.. a lot for so many reasons... Rowan and Aelin take a huge step in their relationship. Rowan has a meeting with an old acquaintance and Aelin gets to fuss over him. CW: death, description of wounds, language. There are a few medical abbreviations thrown around: GCS stands for Glasgow Coma scale CSF is cerebrospinal fluid DOA means dead on arrival TBI is traumatic brain injury

Slowly the months had turned and the new year came along too.

Aelin’s team had been on shift since they had the solstice off. 

It had been a hectic hogmanay and they had plenty of calls. Fires started by fireworks going wild and all sorts of other issues. Aelin hated it.

But what she had hated the most was that at midnight she had not been with Rowan. The ambulance had gone on a call on their own and later on they had been called too to another site where a group of teenagers had set off the fireworks far too close to the bushes of someone’s garden and almost set the house on fire.

She had run to kiss him as soon as she got back.

Now it was their day off and were both in the living room enjoying a relaxing afternoon. Outside was bitter cold and they had both decided to have a cozy day at home.

Rowan was sitting on one end of the sofa staring intently at his phone, while Aelin was laying down with her head in his lap and a book in her hands. 

With one hand Rowan held the phone, while with the other he stroked her head.

Aelin stopped reading for a moment and looked up at her boyfriend. His brows furrowed in concentration “Why are you staring at your phone as if you are mad at it?”

No answer.

“Ro, I am touching myself in a sensual way.”

That caused a reaction. He shifted his gaze from the screen and looked down at her “don’t tease me.”

“At least I got your attention.”

“Hm?”

Aelin huffed a puff and sat down “What at you looking at in such deep concentration?” She angled her body to sneak a peek and noticed a real estate website.

“Why are you looking at houses?”

He placed the phone on the side table and pulled her to him “I know we discussed this in passing a while ago, but how do you feel about buying our own place? Something bigger, perhaps in the outskirts…” he had been thinking about it for a while “it’s okay if you don’t want to leave this house. We can stay here. I love it anyway.”

Aelin straddled him and her hand brushed his cheek “I love the idea of buying our house. For our family. I love it so much.”

A big smile illuminated his face then he grabbed his mobile once more and showed Aelin some of the places he had been browsing.

“I still have all the money that I got from my flat. I set it aside.”

She looked at him in surprise.

“Once we made my move official I decided to keep the money in case one day we took the decision to take a bigger step.”

Aelin kissed him “and we can add the money from when we sell this house. It’s in a nice part of the city, we should be able to get a good deal,” she grabbed his phone “let me see what you have.”

For a while they just kept on browsing and discussing every single house they looked, until Aelin swiped to the next house and gasped “Ro…”

The image in front of them showed a lovely detached house with pastel green walls, a porch and a garden at the front. It was over two floors. At the back it had a larger garden and they could see the woods in the distance. Rowan checked the map and noticed that it was in the north of Orynth in the outskirts. The driveway at the front was nicely kept and it had also a shed. They started looking at the picture of the interiors and it was love at first sight. The kitchen was rustic with a big island and the furniture in a light toned wood. The living room was spacious and Aelin started thinking on how many bookcases she could place. On the ground floor it had the utilities room, a spare bathroom and a smaller room that could be a studio. The upper floor had four bedrooms. The master one had an ensuite bathroom and Rowan commented on the size of the shower room. The bedroom also had floor to ceiling windows and access to the balcony.

The other rooms were generous in size too and there was a communal bathroom down the hall. 

The house came with an attic too.

“Rowan we need to go and see it. This is the one.”

Rowan frowned.

“What? This house is amazing.”

“I know… the price is far too low for such a huge house. I wonder if it has issues.”

“It’s the location,” she explained him “Ae and Lys are looking too. They had started with the city but the prices for such houses were astronomical. As soon as they decided to move to the outskirts the prices went down by a lot and are now looking at the northern end too. According to Lys all the good deals are there.”

“What if we end up bidding against them?”

Aelin laughed “Oh no, don’t worry. I know which houses Lys has her eyes on. We are safe.”

Rowan kissed her head “So, what do you think, fireheart? Shall we start this new chapter?”

Aelin kissed him deeply “Yes, Ro. Let’s do it.”

*

Eventually the magic of two days off had vanished and it was time to go back to work. Aelin and Rowan had taken their new mission very seriously and as soon as they decided to go ahead and look to buy a house she had contacted the estate agency dealing with the sale. Rowan, being always the rational in the relationship had told her that it was worth it to keep shopping and have at least two more alternatives to look at. Aelin being the impulsive one had told him that she did not want to look at other places and that he could live precariously for once. Rowan had eventually yielded. They had managed to organise a viewing for the following day and Aelin had been buzzing. 

The house turned out to be stunning, but Rowan had started asking a lot of question, to enquire about its state and age and they had found out that the neighbourhood was a new residential area built only in the past twenty years. The house was fifteen years old. The family selling it had to move away due to a job relocation. The real estate agent had explained that being a new build it was extremely well insulated and that the current family had installed appliances that were environmentally friendly. Both of them had loved that. Insulation in a place like Orynth was key to avoid enormous gas bills. Before leaving the meeting, Rowan had asked to have a copy of the house report from the estate agency and he had spent the evening perusing it, looking for possible issues, but it seemed that the previous owners had taken great care of the house.

The following morning they had phoned their agent and made an offer. It was going to be a long painful process but Aelin hoped they would manage to get that house. She had fallen in love with it.

In her office she was busy as usual when Lys popped in.

“Hi you…”

The dark haired woman sat down on the chair “so, how did it go with house shopping?”

Aelin smiled. Of course she had texted Lys and showed the house they had chosen and was relieved when her friend told her that it was not on their shopping list. Lys had told her that they had chosen well and Aelin had confessed that they had placed a bid.

“We are still waiting for an answer. I want that house, Lys.”

Her friend laughed “Ae and I just lost one. Someone apparently made a much bigger offer and it was far more than we could afford so we had to pass.”

“Was it option 1 or 2?”

“1…”

“Rich bastard.”

Lys laughed “we have now option 3,” and on her phone she showed Aelin the place “it’s in east Orynth towards the Florine. This one comes with a bit of land too. Ae is already thinking about building a vegetable patch and grow his own spices and veggies.”

“Lys, this place is incredible, it looks like a farm.”

“It was, but it has been modernised and transformed into a house. I love it.”

“Are you going for this one?”

“Yes, we made our offer too.”

Aelin stood and went to hug her friend “look at us, you are married and pregnant and now buying a  house.”

“I need to convince Rowan to pop the question too. He is back now. He has no more excuses for waiting.”

“Lys…”

“What? What is he waiting for? Don’t you want to snatch him up forever?”

“Yes, a lot… we are just… waiting…”

“For what?”

Aelin sighed. Lysandra had no idea about Rowan’s past with Lyria.

“We will, when we are ready.”

In that instant dispatch alarm went off calling for the ambulance “Saved by the bell.”

Lys ran to the ambulance and joined Elide and Rowan and took her place in the passenger seat “fuck, do not run when pregnant.”

“Just don’t be sick in the ambulance,” joked Elide while passing her one of the ginger biscuits she kept in the vehicle. Lys was fine most of times, but while in the ambulance she would get queasy very easily.

They arrived at the site very quickly and got off the ambulance. Rowan froze when he recognised the person walking towards them: Helen. His ex mother in law. Fuck.

Elide and Lys walked to the house but he stood facing the woman. He then shook his head and walked away to join the two women.

He found them in the kitchen. One of the ladies was explaining what happened and he caught the tail end of it. The woman had slipped on some water and had badly bashed her head on the marble floor and fell unconscious. He crouched down slowly and Lys told him to take the lead. In that instant Helen walked back in and when she saw Rowan near her friend she lost it “do not let him near her. Get him away from my friend.”

Rowan ignored her and kept working on the patient. Elide stood and went to deal with the screaming woman “I’ll sue you. You touch her and I’ll sue you. And then I’ll drag you down as well for killing my daughter.”

Lysandra’s head snapped up and looked at him, but Rowan remained focused. His attention all on the woman in front of him. He spoke to Lys after having assessed the situation and she approved of his treatment. Once the patient was stable he stood and walked to Helen “I am just doing my job. Are you suing me for helping your friend? Go on but don’t cry when you lose,” his chest was heaving “and Lyria died in an accident. I wasn’t even in the fucking country.”

“No exactly. You were never here. You killed her with your absence. Your marriage killed her.”

Rowan tried to calm his nerves “I have to go…”

“So, the airforce finally kicked you out? Did you change job because your woman got tired of you?”

Rowan collected his jump bag “If you want to see your friend we are taking her to Med. And call her husband or next of kin if she has one.” Then he walked away ignoring his ex-mother in law.

Ignoring old wounds threatening to open once more.

He jumped in the back of the ambulance and sat down staring at his shaking hands.

They dropped off the victim and once free, Lys dragged him to the coffee cart outside the hospital with Elide.  He took the coffee and they sat down in silence until Lys spoke “I have to ask…”

Rowan sighed “Before I met Aelin I was married,” he started. He owed them an explanation “Her name was Lyria. Our marriage was… complicated. We were happy at the beginning, but Lyria started hating that I was in the airforce very quickly. We fought. Badly. Every time I came back from deployment she resented me more and more.” He took a sip of the coffee “then she became pregnant. I was happy. Until the night before one of my deployments when I found divorce papers in a drawer and a letter from her lawyer saying that I would not win any custody of the child,” another sip to give him time to gather his thoughts “While I was away she had a car accident. One that you guys attended. She and the baby died.”

Lys placed a hand on his shoulder “Our marriage was a mess but I still grieved…” he looked at them “I also always had a suspicion that the child was not mine and Helen confirmed it last year. While I was away Lyria had been living another life with another man.”

Only Aelin and Lorcan fully knew the details of his marriage “Helen met Aelin and… well, Aelin was amazing at holding her own.”

“Rowan… I am so sorry,” whispered Elide.

“That’s why it took Aelin and me a while. She was grieving Sam and I was… dealing with my mess.” 

Lys grabbed his hand “I love Aelin… madly. I want to marry her but my fears hold me back. I have the ring… but I can’t ask her yet. I am terrified. I cannot fuck up things with her.”

Lysandra smiled and all of a sudden a lot of things made sense. Some of Aelin’s admissions all fit into place after Rowan’s confession. But of one thing was certain: Rowan loved her and Aelin did too “Rowan, you will not fuck up. I can see how in love you are. I have seen her with Sam and it was not like this. I never told her because she is my best friend and I love her, but I don’t think she and Sam would have lasted long,”

Rowan looked at Lysandra in surprise.

“And by the way… your ex wife sounds like a bitch.”

Rowan finally chuckled “Sorry about inside.”

“Are you kidding me? How you managed to stay calm with that woman shouting was beyond me. I was about to punch her for you,” added Elide.

“Looks like military training has its uses.”

“I’ll sue,” shouted Elide imitating Helen “you keep obstructing us and I call PD on you. Bitch.”

Rowan laughed “now I can see why Lorcan is so taken by you. He likes women with a very strong personality.”

Elide smiled smugly.

Rowan eventually stood “let’s get back to quarters.”

Back at the station they parked the ambulance and Rowan said he was going to the storage room and grab some supplies. Lys and Elide exchanged glances and walked quickly to Aelin’s office.

“Can we come in?” Lys knocked on the door and opened it.

“What?”

Lysandra blurted out in a second all of that had happened on their call and mentioned the fact that Rowan had told them about Lyria.

Aelin’s heart ached “where is he?”

“Stocking up.”

“This does not leave this office. Rowan felt he could tell you but it must have not been easy,” her tone hard, feeling all of a sudden very protective of him “It’s a painful topic for him and I think he had enough pain so far.”

“Of course, I would never reveal anything this personal.”

“Thank you.”

“I had no idea he was married and now a lot of what you said in the past makes sense. Everything about you two is finally clear.”

“I think you should go to him. You know that the stock room is the paramedic equivalent of the gear room for you guys.”

Aelin nodded “Thank you for being with him.” Aelin hugged them both and ran out of her office. She climbed the stairs two at a time and burst in the storage room and spotted Rowan looking out of the big window, his hands braced on the ledge.

“Ro?”

His head turned and she could not make up his expression. In a few quick steps she was against him and buried her face in his chest while her arms wrapped around him. Rowan kissed her head and held her “I guess they told you.”

Aelin nodded and looked up at him in his green eyes.

“I am okay,” and she felt his arms squeeze her “I am more mad than anything else. The fact that she was trying to stop me from doing my job.”

“Are you sure?”

A soft kiss on her head “I am really okay, fireheart. My therapist and I have dealt with this as well and I am fine. It’s in the past.”

She looked at him and saw it was the truth. Gone was the deep grief she had seen in him when they met Helen the first time “Lys was impressed by how calm you were while she was shouting at you. Iceman indeed.”

Rowan chuckled “I had to explain it to Lys and Elide too, though.”

“Ro, it’s your past. If you are comfortable sharing it, I have no issues.”

He kissed her.

“If you are fine why did it look like you were contemplating murder?”

“My knee,” he said quietly “I sat on my haunched a bit too long during the call and it has been stiff all day. Must be the weather.”

Aelin laughed “You sound like such an old man…”

“It’s true. It has something to do with barometric pressure dropping.”

“So, bad weather is coming?”

He smiled “maybe rain.”

“Go and ask Lys to give you something for the pain.”

“After…”

Aelin looked at him with curiosity, then his hands landed on her hips and clumsily reached the wall and Rowan pinned her against it. His mouth found hers and Aelin melted in the kiss “hmm…”

“Someone is needy today,” she hummed against his mouth.

“For you… always.”

They kissed for another good five minutes then Rowan pulled back “I better take some stuff down and get painkillers from Lys.”

Aelin kissed his nose “Go, my sexy paramedic.”

Rowan grabbed his basket with the supplies and walked to the door but before leaving he turned to Aelin “Love you.”

Aelin moved to the big window and stared at her team going about whatever chore Manon had assigned them and smiled. The woman would be the perfect person to replace her if for any reason she had to stop being a captain. The idea pained her, thinking about leaving the firehouse was scary, but thanks to Rowan she had another plan for the future. She wanted kids. After Lys’ announcement she had realised that she wanted that for them too. To see Rowan being a dad. Aelin had no doubts he’d be wonderful.

She studied him laugh with the team and smiled. The whole ordeal after Gavriel’s death had been hard on him, but as she looked at him now she saw a man who seemed finally at peace with himself. No matter how happy, before, he always had a sort of sadness in him. Looking at him he was now a changed man and she thought she could not love him even more than what she already did. He looked up at his eyes met hers. With his hand he waved at her and gave him a huge grin. Aelin waved back and blew him a kiss. Then an idea popped up. Aelin walked to the clear door and exited on the small landing area and went through the small gate that allowed access to the pole. There was only one meeting room left upstairs, the rest had been converted into storage room for the paramedics, so the pole was barely used now. She then did something she hadn’t done in a long time. Her hands grabbed the pole and slid down squealing with delight.

She was walking back to her office when dispatch alarm went off “Let’s go!” She shouted to her teams while running to the engine. Gear on, Aelin climbed on her seat next to Nox.

“Lorry crashed in a shop.”

The three vehicles sped through the streets. The holidays were over and kids were back at school and people at work after the break and the roads were busy once more.

Even with the sirens blaring, traffic would not move. Aelin honked a few times angrily “move the fuck away, you idiots,” she shouted while hanging outside of the window. The traffic finally peeled away and they managed to pass through, all the while Aelin was raging. The longer it took them the more they were endangering possible victims. They finally reached the location and Aelin gasped. She knew it. It was a small deli shop that she and Rowan visited from time to time. The vehicle had slammed right into it. That was going to be a mess.

“Manon, you Ress and Ansel work on the driver,” assessing the situation she started to deploy her teams “Luca, check for fuel leaks,” then to the rest of the team “spread around the shop, look for victims, assess them and take them out.” Then grabbed the radio “paramedics, multiple victims coming your way soon. You are not coming in unless I say so.”

Over the comms Lysandra copied and in the background she heard Dorian’s voice.

The shop was a mess. The lorry had plowed through, aisles were all knocked over and the entrance looked quite unstable “Brullo, try and clear the entrance, we cannot have it collapse on us while we carry people out.” The older man grabbed Borte and the two went to work.

Aelin grabbed a victim laying on the floor, her head bloodied and the leg at a wrong angle “Wes!” She shouted at the man “go outside and grab a backboard,” in the meantime she kept assessing the woman. She was breathing, that was a start. Wes came back quickly with the board “I am setting the leg, then we are taking her out.” Luckily there was a small gap where they could walk through. Aelin grabbed the woman’s leg and fixed it as she had been shown. The victim responded at the pain and Aelin took that as a small victory. With Wes she then loaded the woman on the backboard and walked outside.

A few more ambulances had joined theirs. Her three paramedics ran to her “GCS 8, I reset the leg.” Lysandra directed the victim to the ambulance and walked to Aelin “you need to let us in.”

“No.”

“Aelin, if you have multiple victims you cannot deal with all of them. You are delaying treatment.”

Aelin breathed in “I am not placing more people in danger. The structure is not stable and I cannot allow you inside.”

Lysandra tried to protest “I am the captain. You do as I say,” and walked away.

Back inside she saw Manon’s group free the driver, he had a head laceration and her lieutenant mouthed the word unconscious. Turning to the window she spotted a man with glass stuck in his abdomen. She ran to him and kneeled and looked around “Dorian, I need you to send one paramedic in. Man with glass in his abdomen, he is conscious.”

Dorian’s response came over the radio.

“Hi, what’s your name?”

“Sebastian.”

“Sebastian, you have glass in your belly, we have paramedic coming in. They will look after you.” She took his hand and stayed with him until Elide walked in. She nodded to the man and let her friend work while keeping an eye on the ceiling. Having Elide inside she was now worrying. They were taking the last two victims out when it happened. The structure, weakened by the crash,               collapsed all over them. She shouted in time and they all flattened on the floor and covered the two civilians. And while on her belly on the floor, that’s when she spotted something under the lorry. Fuck fuck and fuck. Quickly she stood, removed her jacket and ran to the van. It was a person.

“Cap, what are you doing?” It was Nox but she ignored him.

Slowly she squeezed under the vehicle “there’s a person.”

A  moment later Ansel removed her jacket and joined her from the side. They were the only two who could actually fit under the vehicle and had paramedic training.

Aelin froze when she discovered it was a boy. Nine, maybe ten.

“Manon, update Dorian, we have a boy stuck under the van. We are assessing him.”

The lieutenant reported to the chief and Aelin went back to the little boy. There was so much blood.

While Ansel checked his abdomen Aelin looked at his head “someone pass me a small torch.”

From under the van she spotted Ren kneeling and passing her the item. She forced his eyes open and flashed the light. Pupils non responsive. Her eyes met Ansel and both knew it was bad.

“Manon,” she shouted “report out that the boy’s eyes are non responsive he has a head contusion, Ansel says he might have internal injuries and—”

She stopped when she felt something near his ear that was not blood. Fuck “I think I have CSF coming from the ear, the skull feels cracked.”

“Aelin you need to extract immediately.”

“We are trying, chief.”

She looked out and saw her team passing her a backboard. Ansel grabbed the other end and together in the cramped space they placed the boy on it. And slid him out where someone caught him.

She breathed out and leaned her head against the cold floor. Ansel’s hand went on her back “we did all we could.”

“No, we didn’t.” Slowly she crawled out and saw that the shop was clear. Aelin felt tears sting.

They had missed the boy. With a heavy heart she collected her hat and jacket and walked out. The ambulances were all away but her team was there for her. In a fit of rage she threw her jacket on the ground and walked away and sat in a corner. Knees to her chest and let the tears flow. 

Dorian was kneeling in front of her a moment later.

“Aelin…”

“I fucked up.”

“No, you didn’t,” he told her knowing full well that Aelin tended to blame herself for every death.

“No? Dorian, I fucking missed a child under the lorry. And he is dead. Because I am a joke for a captain,” she growled “damn your father was right. I am not good for this.”

Dorian was always calm but he knew what his father had put Aelin through. He knew her since he was a captain at west and she just an eager firefighter. She had been amazing from day one.

“My father was a joke of a firefighter. He would never risk his life the way you do, and crawl under a van? Fuck, the man would send someone else. Do not let the bastard affect you,” his words harsh “You dealt with the victims you had around. They were your priority. It was probably a fucking mess inside. I would not have thought about looking under the van straight away.”

Aelin sobbed “if I checked before…”

Dorian placed his hand on her shoulder “it would not have made the difference. I saw the wound in the day light. The skull had caved in. He was DOA. The front of the lorry must have hit him head on.”

“What about all of the other victims?”

“All to Med. The man with the glass in the belly was stable. Lys hooked him on pain meds and padded the wound for transport. The victim with the broken leg was okay too. A lot of bruises, cuts, no other major injuries.”

“What about the boy? Was he there on his own?”

“No one was asking for him,” and then he pointed to a bike “he probably came here on his own. PD is asking around for and ID on him and call the family.”

Aelin nodded and sighed heavily and then stood “Lys is going to have my head.”

“You made the right call. Too dangerous to send them in and you were right. The ceiling came down.”

“You tell her that.”

“I did.”

Eventually they walked back and her team stared at her and Ansel went to her for a hug “There was nothing we could have done for him.”

“I know,” whispered Aelin hugging the woman back.

Brullo handed her back the jacket and hat “Chief, can we quickly drop by the hospital for an update?”

“Just shed the bunker gear, it’s covered in shit and I can see Sorscha kicking you all out.”

“Well, you can put a good word for us,” joked Ress.

“I don’t have all that power.”

Aelin rode to the hospital with a heavy heart. All the what ifs running through her head. If only she had done things differently maybe… A deep sigh left her when Nox announced they had arrived. They shed the dirty and dusty bunker gear and remained in their uniform and dirty faces.

Dorian went in first and they followed. Sorscha went to them as soon as she spotted a wall of blue “You are not coming any further than that.”

“But the gear is off,” protested Dorian “they are relatively clean.

“They are covered in dust and who knows what else. You are staying in the lobby and do not set foot in my A&E.”

“She is bossy,” Ansel gently elbowed Dorian and wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“The victims are all being treated. The man with the glass in the abdomen is in surgery but doc thinks he will be fine. The lady with the broken leg is in ortho and whoever reduced the fracture saved the limb.” She then looked at all of them “the boy arrived here dead. The TBI had been catastrophic. He very likely died on impact, the edema was very severe.”

“Did you manage to find his family?” Asked Aelin from her corner.

“PD has asked around. He was know to the locals. He was eleven and lived with his grandma, an old lady and he looks after her. The parents are gone and she is the guardian. A social worker keeps an eye on the case. He goes there to buy fresh food for his gran.”

Aelin wanted to scream. What kind of society would leave an eleven years old boy with a sick grandmother and let him do everything?

“The neighbours helped them in all the way they could,” added Sorscha.

Aelin walked outside and sat on the bumper of the engine pushing down her pain. Why that death affected her so much? She had seen far more gruesome stuff but for some reason losing that boy was reducing her to a wreck.

Her team joined her ten minutes later and Nox pulled her to the cabin “let’s go back, cap. At the station we’ll have the captain fuss over you.”

“Oh, he’ll love that.”

Nox patted her leg “we are here too.”

“I know…” whispered Aelin while the engine slowly glided through traffic and back to quarters.

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp​ @swankii-art-teacher​ @whimsicallyreading​ @aelin-bitch-queen​ @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity​ @acreativelydifferentlove @mis-lil-red​ @thegreyj​ @sailorsassley​ @leiawritesstories​ @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire​ @sv0430​ @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon​ @rowanaelinn​ @backtobl4ck​ @susumaus98​ @gracie-rosee​ @mybloodrunsblue​ @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah​ @whoever-you-choose-to-love​ @theywillnotsingforme​ @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water​ @goddess-aelin​ @lovely-dove-zee​

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfic #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #alittlebraver #a little braver #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfiction

[literalliterature]

helloooo, it is me, the D20 mutual!! i'd love to hear about the acofaf project you're working on, and/or patron saint of lost causes (an absolutely kickass name btw)

Ember you are SO 👌👌👌🔥🔥🔥 for asking this because lowkey I've been wanting to share about them both lol.

So first off, my ACOFAF art! My first ACOFAF art, to be specific. :3 I started it earlier this week and am currently on the final lineart stage. It's Wuvvy in the "burn" scene from episode 3 because I love to hurt myself.

[ID: Two versions of the same drawing of Wuvvy from the chest up. She is a satyr with horns that curl outward, floppy ears, a deer-like nose, very long and straight hair, and Regency-style clothing. Her hand is held out toward the viewer, and a tear falls down her cheek. The first image shows the rough sketch done in pencil and paper, while the second is digitally rendered and shows the final sketch, partially lined. End ID.]

For "Patron Saint of Lost Causes," the only context that you need is it's an essay where I just reflect on death lmao. I'm going to be self-indulgent and just post several paragraphs of the very beginning. (Discussion of death starts under the cut in case you'd prefer to avoid it.)

This is a story about the time I did not have a panic attack in the discount holiday decor aisle of the CVS on 53rd and Kimbark. The most important thing to know about the CVS on 53rd and Kimbark is that it's carpeted. The carpet is a not-quite-navy blue and contains much of the store's overwhelming menace. In tandem with the fluorescents, it makes the interior at once too dark and too glaring. This exacerbates the sensory assault from the constant pinging of self-check-out machines and the screaming red 40%-off signs that jump out from around the other side of the aisle like haunted house ghouls. I suspect that's all meant to disorient and send you weaving in deeper. Either that or someone thought it would make the place homier, which is the only other reason I can imagine for giving a drugstore carpet, as opposed to some sane and moppable linoleum like any god-fearing Target. There's an uncanniness to it, like those robots with synthetic flesh stretched over their machinery to give them supposedly friendly faces. The lack of attempt at reassurance would have been preferable.

No one looks at you in the carpeted CVS, because no one looks at anything in the carpeted CVS except for the things they came in to get, because that way they can leave the carpeted CVS faster. This is to say that it's not a bad location for a breakdown, which almost happened because I saw a stuffed rabbit in the picked-through Easter aisle. This was in May. The rabbit had been deposited onto a metal shelf crowded with items in pastel colors that look how a cube of solid fondant tastes. I thought about buying it, thinking I could bring it back to Judith, because Judith might like it, and then I became aware of the weight of my guts like a sack on a string inside me. There was no reason to buy the rabbit, because Judith was dead, which was annoying, because before I would have had a reason to buy the rabbit. This was an interruption to routine.

And I really, honest-to-God tried to have a breakdown about it. The grief was overdue anyway, so it might as well come here and now.

Come on, I thought as I slapped myself around in the aisle, with neither customer nor clerk to stop me. Say uncle. And then after a couple minutes I bought the lightbulb I'd come in for and $16.99 of discount Easter candy that I hadn't.

#ask meme #rebel in ink #my writing #my art #acofaf

[saramiah]

Markmaking #1

Friday 23rd September 2022

Today we did mark making. An exercise that helps in opening the creativity ducts in our brain. I did quite enjoy it once I got like two not so impressive ones done and found my groove. We were given a piece of A3 paper split into 12 parts, we had a minute to fill each section using a different medium each time. It was our primary research photos, the photos taken to portray our idea of 'The story of Me’, that we are reinterpreting using a range of different mediums. The images I was interpreting were of bangles and of our ‘house sandals’ lined up in the hallway of our house. I particularly enjoyed using the charcoal and oil pastels. The harshness of the blunt charcoal against the soft, manipulative stroke of the oil pastel is a very nice contrast, the perfect subtle soft sort of mirroring of my theme: the mixing of 2 cultures at an almost minute and unrecognisable scale. I used the charcoal in harsh and bold strokes to outline the bangles and then used the oil pastel in a soft rounded sweep within the charcoal outline, this is shown quite nicely in 'compartment' number 5 and 6.

On quite a few sections on my A3 piece of paper I used negative space to my advantage. On one of them I used masking tape, ink and corrugated cardboard. First I stuck like 3 5cm long strips of masking tape together - width to width- and that gave me a good sized square piece of masking tape to make a stencil out of. I carefully cut out the shape of a pair of bamboo sandals within the masking tape - sandal stencil. I then did the same process again of getting a square piece of masking tape but this time I cut it into the shape of of the pair of bamboo sandals. I then got a piece of corrugated cardboard and filled a plastic cup with ink and found myself a flat paintbrush. I slathered on a thick layer of the ink onto the ridged side of the corrugated cardboard. I pressed this into the stencil and I got the results shown in 'squares' 8 and 9. I also included the piece of cardboard I used. I hope my labelling is clear enough. Pleas let me know if it isn't. This technique was quite fiddley I will admit but it was one of my favourite. The outcome is vague. You can't really tell if it's a pair of sandals or not, but that's the fun in it I guess. It may just seem like a bit on ink carelessly swiped across the sheet, but it means something to someone, someone has interpreted it as an object that is meaningful to them. A matter of perspective that I find most intriguing. And even if I said to the viewer "this is to be interpreted as a pair of bamboo sandals", there is still more to be discovered: what could a seemingly meaningless pair of sandals mean to this viewer? The scope of a mind is endless. I would love to explore it more.

My journey was not all smooth sailing. I struggled finding my creative flow when I was introduced to this task. It's quite well reflected in sections 1,2 and 3. I was still finding my groove. They are not my best pieces I will admit, but thankfully by section 4 I had grasped the last remaining threads of creativity before they left me and used them thoroughly. I hope this is also reflected in my other sections.

You may be wondering what the repetitive objects throughout my work mean and represent. I mentioned it before in my last post, I shall elaborate on it a little bit more. This piece of paper is comprised of the objects: bangles and a pair of bamboo sandals, translated into a range of styles and mediums. But why these objects? I am not the most cultured Bengali in England, but to me I feel as though these are things that are small but signify something more to me about my culture. I think more and more, especially recently, I've been trying to find things that signify that connection, no matter how faint. I feel more accomplished when I do or wear things that are deep rooted in my culture and have been lost or faded through migration to a country where things are done completely differently. Little things are more significant to me, because no one else can really tell I'm doing it or wearing it for that connection, it's like a secret with myself. Thank you.

Please feel free to also share your thoughts on the topic of significance of small matters or small things to you, but go unnoticed by others :)

[tatelauritzen62]

hermes mini kelly 22

Hermes Sellier Mini Kelly Ii Bag 20cm Gold Epsom Gold Hardware This is slightly soft jewelry pouch I have with a divided inside. On one side I maintain a few playing cards and money; on the opposite facet I really have a mini hand sanitizer from Bath and Body Works, snagged from one of my children. wikipedia handbags It’s essential to note that you shouldn't carry any coloured hand sanitizer, carry clear solely, because the coloring in hand sanitizer can dye the leather-based. mini kelly 2 Shop blue mini kelly, including different variations like purple and turquoise mini kelly. The intent of the collection was mainly targeted to the burgeoning Asian market, but the world over these luggage are sought out for their distinctive look and collectability. Hermès is a French brand established in Paris, synonymous with a luxury lifestyle. Many individuals who purchase even one merchandise from the Hermès assortment have a finances that enables the purchase of accessories that can value upwards of $100,000. Other objects like scarves are underneath 6-figures and should value between $10,000 – $30,000. When used to explain the stunning Hermes Kelly purse it’s no cliché at all, for this could be a design that it as timeless and chic as some other bag in the marketplace. Designed to be practical and exquisite in addition to stylish and trendy, the Hermes Kelly has solid a niche available within the market that makes it a stand out bag in any assortment. I know very little compared to you on the brand so I can take the chance to ask you if the leather-based of this handbag is totally different from the mysore leather-based. My wishes for my subsequent Kelly is mysore leather for a sellier but I am afraid I must be ready for ever or never. Its been virtually 5 months that I have been a proud proprietor of a Mini Kelly, little leather-based dream in black colour with golden hardware. I needed to take her out and style a mini bag for day occasion, even once I am more than 174cm tall. Never has there been a bag so synonymous with type as Hermès's iconic Kelly Bag. With the rise within the online resale market for Hermes luggage, many have turned to Luxe.It.Fwd as Australia’s most trusted on-line destination for pre-owned luxurious handbags, footwear and accessories. If you may be wanting to spend cash on the last word in iconic luxurious without having to pay the full retail value, shop our great vary of authentic preloved Hermes bags at Luxe.It.Fwd. If you don’t have the funds wanted to buy your dream bag right away however don’t want to miss out, we offer cost through Afterpay and Zip at checkout to permit you more time to repay your bag. This Kelly, in the Sellier fashion, is in Rose Confetti chevre leather-based with palladium hardware and has tonal stitching, two straps with entrance toggle closure, single rolled handle and removable shoulder strap. One such example of the latter is the utilization of feathers, ranging from peacock to rock pigeon and more. A few of those limited edition and special order Kelly luggage have surfaced, ranging in time durations that span decades. Every occasion of feather Kelly luggage to surface on the secondary market is an unmatched alternative to personal a bag that may be a step above the remainder and a real capstone piece to finish any assortment. In their Spring/Summer 2011 purse collection, Hermès produced a line accomplished in delectible combos of pastel “candy” color hues. The exterior colors brilliantly distinction to their interiors, and every mixture was set to match and be repeated all through the road, all completed with both Palladium or Permabrass hardware. Before that, the style house was identified for the long-lasting Hermes Kelly bag which was originally designed within the 1930s however was renamed when a photograph of Grace Kelly carrying the bag made waves around Hollywood. Since then, each the Kelly and Birkin have become the final word status image of wealth and magnificence. Introducing the UK Hermes Bag Price List Reference Guide. This information presents Hermes purses together with jewelery and watches’ costs in Sterling Pound as of July 2020. Hermes UK just lately increased its prices in January 2018. When this Holy Grail of purses is adorned with precious hardware, collectors take particular notice. The single-sized and highly adapable Kelly belt evokes the facet straps of the long-lasting bag. Maybe Carrie tried to get her a cope with Sellier for an additional bag and it was too expensive?? She wont go near Luxury Promise because of Claire and who knows with Vestiaire. I really believe she couldn't afford these two Kellys - we all know black is probably the most needed color and it appears just like the resale baggage are going for way more than the price of a model new one instore as a result of rarity. Grace was inaugurated into the International Best Dressed List Hall of Fame in 1960 and in 1955, the Custom Tailored Guild of America listed her because the "Best-Tailored Woman". Numerous exhibitions have been held of Kelly's life and clothing. The Birkin bag is a personal accent ofluggageor atotebyHermèsthat is handmade in leather and named after actress and singerJane Birkin. The bag is at present in style as asymbol of wealth as a result of its high price and use by celebrities. Birkins are the most popular bag withhandbag collectors, andVictoria Beckhamowns over 100 of them. Costs escalate based on the type of leather-based and if exotic skins were used. The bags are distributed to Hermès boutiques on unpredictable schedules and in limited quantities, creatingartificial scarcityand exclusivity.

#hermes mini kelly #mini kelly bag #mini kelly #mini kelly 2 #mini kelly ii

[lovethesagefan]

IT'S GETTING REAL!!!

I think most people, in their lives, will experience buying a home. With buying a home, you may find a need to sell that home. The two involves two different emotions. When you buy a house, you are excited. You see possibilities. Images of picket fences and turf. That first house is your castle...your manor. But when you sell a house, it is about the past. The house becomes like a bank. It stores all the countless memories of your life.

Since the death of my mother, my siblings and I have tried to hang on to two homes bound to us: the house we grew up in and my grandmother's house. These are twin ancestral homes. Ever since my grandmother's death, my sister had been living in it. So it was put to use. My sister did some "modest" redecorating, but you could see my grandmother's influence, her style. When my mother passed in 2020, we had a dilemma. What do we do with two aging home? We had been paying up keep for the former home which served as our anchor. We gathered for remembrances and holidays. Sadly, a decision had to be made. One had to go.

We decided that our grandmother's house had to go. It was built in 1974. I describe it as a "little old lady" house. It didn't have central air. It had a couple of antiquiky type of furniture. She still had her black and white tv which she held on to the 70s and died. Finally replaced it will one of big console color model. No remote. She could watch her stories in color. The plan was to sell her house and we contribute part of our share to renovate the house we grew up in. We went back and forth over it. The other house was built in 1952. They moved into it because of me in 1964. Having a 4th son (me) would make you want more space.

No one in our family, of our generation, had ever sold a house. We had a guardian angel who is helping us. In fact he was the guy who built our grandmother's house. My sister had a chance meeting with him and I took it as a Devine sign that we needed to do this. Our angel was with us when we meet with the realtor. So around the second week of May my sister, as administrator of the estate, signed the documents. We were now selling a house; not any house, but our house.

It took less than a week to sell. Everything was in the theoretical sphere. Seeing the sign in the yard, I thought that was "real". Having people coming into the house and walking around. I thought that was "real". Accepting the offer. That should made everything real. But it wasn't.

You know the moment when all of this felt real? Tuesday, when all of us were together in the same space boxing things up. Things got real. I was on wrapping detail. The eldest brother would hand me the glasses or plates and I would wrap them and box them. This was real. The colored Depression ware place setting (think Fiesta ware) were only used on Easter. I guess because of the pastel colors. Yellow bowls that used to hold Niagara Shredded Wheat. If you never had it, think sticks. Needed sugar and lots of it to get it down. But all I could remember now is my grandmother eating a bowl with us.

There were dessert bowls that we would eat Sealtest Ice Cream in. My brother even commented to the fact. My brothers don't care to show emotions or as much emotions when we are together like my sister and I. We found the old cake pans that made our birthday cakes. We never found the Club Aluminum skillet that made the most delicious hamburgers this side of Heaven. Everyone had a box to which, if they wanted something and if my sister and I haven't already claimed it, then you put it in your box. Yesterday, even the grandkids got in on the act. I would sent out texts on items I thought they would want to keep...to remember this special lady. Somethings, like our mother's tea set she had as a little girl, I told my niece she had to wait in line. It is special. Made in the 1930s and real glass or porcelain. My sister had one of plastic. I know cause I had to play with her.

You are held prisoner in the past. You have to decide to keep something or to give it to Goodwill. My nephew swooped yester day and took an entire book marked for Goodwill. Why...just because. But he got lucky. My grandmother had this knight. Heavy as everything. We weren't allowed to touch it or play with it. I had already claimed it. He comes along and claims it as if he was discovering some distant land. Well, I relinquished my claim so he can have it. But I found out that my sainted grandmother, let them play with the knight as well as other forbidden objects. This irked me a tad. My grandmother loved her grandchildren, but she gushed over the great grands. I can only picture how she would have responded to her great great grands! They would have whatever they wanted. She let them take a set of marbles my sister and I would play with when we spent a night with her. The old house had a side screened porch we would rolled the marbles. She moved and they came along. She gave them OUR marbles. Heresy! Those marbles weren't meant to leave the premises. I was never the same. At the same time, she gave the youngest one, who has a "favorite" complex this tiny little pink toilet. Someone had taken a marker and marked the bowl. It didn't do anything. It was fun to play with. Kids do not use their imaginations like we did back in the day. They have tablets for that. I was upset over that. I told my niece I was going to claim my property. LOL!

But I got my box. I have my treasured place mats. I hear my grandmother's voice in my head telling us to get the place mats and set the table. I always folded my napkin in a triangle cause I thought that was fancy while the other had just a plain rectangle. I have this still life of vegetables. It is on a piece of dark wood. It would be perfect on my wall with the fruit still life I already have. But this is my connection to the older house. Connecting me to the time she served me brussel sprouts and instead of eating them, I rolled under the table. She never said a word about them to me.

We saved the ragged checkered board. She would get down on the floor and place checkers with us. It was kept in this antique mirrored coatrack which she got as a wedding gift from one of her sister-in- laws. The marriage didn't last, but the coat rack did. It is almost 100 years old. We would accuse her of cheating cause of her "flying kings" moves.

I could go on and on. Birthdays cakes and the singing of happy birthday. My brother's claim of a rocking chair. My grandmother always said it was his favorite so I can't dispute it. My grandmother collected knick knacks, but of course these are years and years of Mother's Day, birthdays, Christmas gifts, etc we had given her over the years. With the exception of a few things, I hope the new owners will treasure them like we have.

But reality is here. In a couple of weeks no longer will we be able to walk up those steps and relive one of the most special times in our lives. I so much want to hold on to everything that she bought, touched, or just looked at. That what's connects me to her. The reality is when we turn those keys over, the house of Nilla wafers and Coca Colas, daytime soaps, and jokes about her 3 strands of hair will be no more. And while I am so glad to have had the experience, the reality is that it hurts to lose it.

#memories #grandmother #home

[thefanbasewhore]

Can you do a soulmate Stucky x reader? I feel like you would write that so well, especially how you portrayed bucky in "are you mad at me" was so soft. The soulmate version would be so cute

Summary || Bucky and Steve meet their soulmate, which they had no idea existed.

Warning/content || fluff, a small explicit scene, fighting. Soulmate AU.

Paring || Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve rogers

I got a little carried away, but enjoy ❤️ not edited or beta read but I'm sleepy 😴

Bucky and Steve have had each other from the moment they have met. Imaging their surprise, being two little boys from Brooklyn seeing colors, something the two agreed to hide, pending the time period.

It was different now, a different time. They were accepted and while both of them loved each other, so very much, especially through the mind control, fighting each other, then for each other. They always knew something was missing.

A color, maybe even two, three. A part of them missing but they both collectively came to the conclusion that it was just that. Some missing colors, it happens sometimes.

It happens when they least expect it.

After Thanos, after Tony finally deciding to leave that kind of life behind, buying a small two bedroom house on the outskirts of the city. A home to grow old in, be together for the first time since before the war started but only one thing prevented that.

The house was a disaster, gutted to the foundations, no running water, green moss outside covered the whole house, the lawn completely out of control. For Bucky it was a hard no, it was a dump but the moment Steve fluttered those ridiculously long lashes, how could he say no?

So here they are, sweating on this 90 degree day, putting up new dry wall with no air-conditioning.

"What color should it be?" Steve asks, glancing to his dark haired lover, taking notice of his now shirtless appearance. Bucky let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Maybe we should get all of the walls up first."

Steve clicks his tongue, "I like the color green, like a nice pastel mint green."

"Whatever you want, honey." Bucky wasn't too picky, besides whatever made Steve happy, made him happy.

"Hello?" A sweet, feminine voice came from the kitchen. The doors left open because of the heat, there was nothing much in here anyways.

Steve pulls away from his task, pulling his shirt over his head to wipe his forehead with it. "Come in, we are in the kitchen."

Bucky wasn't too alarmed, Steve had told him previously that he hired a someone to make up the yard, nothing too fancy but the both of them were completely clueless when it came to plants, or gardens period.

"Quite a project you have going on here, Mr. Rogers." No doubt taking in the half gutted house along the way. While they have never met, they spoke on the phone briefly about his wants.

"You have no idea, Hun."

The woman looks around the kitchen first, noticing the freshly painted cabinet, the smell a dead giveaway, half eaten burgers thrown to the side on a small, make shift table with barely enough room to fit.

At first glance towards the man she notices the sharp jawline, defined but soft feature of the blonde as she greets him with a smile which soon drops in confusion as small dots of color appear. Stormy blue eyes with a full beard, Steve's mouth dropping agape as he notices the splirts of color - the missing colors for 106 years finally appear.

Bucky notices the tension in the room, shifting his attention from the wall to Steve, noticing how intensely he's staring, Bucky follows the line of vision and meets sweet eyes.

She's hit with another line of color, different from Steve's but now there's no more gray hue, bright yellows and blues. The outside is suddenly so bright and Bucky mouth drops.

This cannot be happening.

They sit there and stare for what seems like hours.

"I - ugh.." she starts, "What is happening?"

***

Sometimes life just throws curve balls, like finding out that your soulmate or in this cause soulmates are two, one hundred year old super soldiers who have already been in love with each other for over a decade.

The pull is already strong, nature intended for these souls to be together until death due part and honestly Bucky could feel it. With Steve he was used to the urge of wanting to have him close, kiss him every free minute he has but with the woman in front of him, it's new.

He doesn't even know her name, watches the way she nervously flickers from Steve's gaze to his own. She's beautiful.

Strong but delicate features, the curve of her nose is cute, cupid lips are so full... kissable. He can't stop staring, even with Steve and her in the mist of conversation. The make shift table cleared of all prior mess, Buck and Steve have to share a chair, which is quite comical, seeing two giant supersoldier try to share a small, old, dinning room seat.

Bucky's metal fingers twitch, metal plate click and whirl to life as he tights to urge to map her face out with his fingers. His heart is beating so fast, filled with so much... Love? Joy?

No matter how much Steve and Bucky try to hide it.. deep down they always knew, something was missing and in this case, someone.

"You're beautiful." The words catch both her and Steve off guard, Bucky blushes red something terrible but the sweet smile defuses the fire.

Well until she says something back, "You are too."

His whole face is hot and Steve reaches over to affectionately rub the back of his shoulder. Of course Steve was calm, he always is.

He handles things with lots of thought and understanding, while Buck is more hot headed, acts on the moment.

***

"It doesn't feel right." Bucky comments, watching from the window to insure she safely gets into the car. Steve sighs, by the time they're done talking darkness has filled the house. Steve affectionately squeezes the brunette's bicep, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"I know Bucky. This is a lot for her, for us. She needs to take time and reflect on this. She'll come to us when she's ready."

Bucky knows nothing then her name, and love for plants but chews at his bottom lip nervously. She's too far, the bond pulls at his heart strings. Now bonded forever. "What if she never comes back?"

"She will."

***

A few days pass, the kitchen is finally done, new appliances, new china and kitchen fully stocked. Steve is making something for Dinner - it smells amazing while Bucky starts painting the walls of the lifeless living room.

It's bare, not even something to sit on but no doubt with the stamina of two super soldiers it will be done by next week.

The knock on the front door is unexpected, but Bucky replies quickly. "I got it, Stevie!"

He expects some older, much wrinkly neighbor to be complaining about the noise of the nail gone or something this late at night. His mouth drops, a little shocked at the sight of her.

A very formal sitting dress, long and black, dips into a sweetheart neckline, the valley of her breasts easily visible. Hair is thrown into a neat updo, sexy and sleek.

Bucky clears his throat. "Hi." He squeaks out, feeling like a total idiot as he watches her nervously shift her weight from one heel to the other.

"Hi, I was in the area. A wedding for one my clients, thought I'd come say hello." Bucky wants to shake his head in disbelief that something so beautiful, just like Steve is made for him.

The universe sculpted and made two beautiful, breath taking human beings to be his and it's overwhelming. She's so pretty it's alarming.

It was a good excuse, the truth but not the real reason she stopped by. How could she tell them that they have been on her mind none stop? It physically hurts to be away for so long.

"Who is it, Buck?" Steve mumbles, interrupting the thick tension between the two.

"Come in, doll." Bucky's helps her with the jacket that lays over his shoulders, mentioning his head towards the direction of the kitchen, where his other lover is.

Steve is stunned none the less, he at least expected a few more days. Also, feeling much like Bucky, amazed by the radiating beauty.

He decides to play it cool, dimples forming with a breath taking smile. "Do you like spaghetti?"

Hours pass, time moves so fast with conversation, and adding wine to the mix surely didn't help.

The trio once again in the kitchen, but this time each have a chair, a new, more comfortable dinning set.

"You got this done fast. It's beautiful." She comments, "Colors are beautiful, I guess I have you two to thank for that."

Bucky shifts in his seat, the glass of wine is useless but still finds himself sipping from it. Her eyes are red, watery with a slight buzz.

"Do you feel it?" The question has both Bucky and Steve look at each other, watching her teary eyes as she presses a hand to sooth the ache in her chest. "It hurts, it hurts to be away. All week."

"It's normal." Steve answers just above a whisper, his next words make Bucky's bottom lip quiver. "I felt it every day for the last 5 years, Bucky was gone."

Bucky had never thought about it - there hasn't been enough time to. It's only been a month later since the return and it never occurred to him what Steve has gone through.

"Steve.." He starts, tears kiss his waterline as his fingers run through the blonde's hair. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't know, I -."

"Couldn't prevent it Buck. It happened but you're here now and.." Steve turns his attention towards the girl, tears slip past her eyelids. It's for Steve, for Bucky.. all the pain and suffering they've been through. "Hey, don't cry, it's alright beautiful."

It's feels right, despite barely knowing the man, nothing feel more right then being pulled into his chest as a large metal hand comforts her in a different way, rubbing the loose strands of hair as he murmurs. "We've got you now, you're our other half."

***

Months have past from that day. The house is finally done, everything they could have imagined with the additional of an extra tooth brush in the cup that sits on the bathroom sink, a pile of fuzzy blankets at the bottom of the bed and a five year old chocolate lab. Steve didn't mind much, he's always loved dogs, Bucky on the other hand...

"Alright, alright, Maverick." Bucky huffs, grocery bags in hand as the dog excitedly nuzzles his legs, following him throughout the house like it wasn't only an hour ago he's seen him. Once putting the bags down, hears the whine, big brown eyes staring up at him. Bucky sighs, dropping to a knee before petting the pup's head. "Alright you mutt, don't tell anyone about this."

"Too late, pal." Bucky jumps, hearing the amusement in Steve's voice, followed by the giggle of the woman that peers out from behind him. Wrapping her arms around Steve before testing her head against his shoulder.

"Caught you red handed, you love Mav." Bucky grumbles at her words, feeling two smaller hands wrap around his waist as a head falls into his chest. He presses a soft kiss into her hair before taking in the blonde that barely fits through the doorway he leans against.

Bucky's free hand reaches out, mentioning him closer but as she's soon finds herself in the middle of a super soldier sandwich. "Hi, baby." Bucky presses a kiss to the blonde's lips.

"Hi, pal."

***

"It's only one mission. That's it, we will be in and out." Steve promises, not liking the way his girls face twist into a worried expression.

Heavy eyes, lower lip sticking out to pout. "What if something happens? If you get hurt? Or if they find you, Bucky?"

"I told you, Hydra is gone, honey." Bucky's large hands sooth over her tight shoulders, pressing soft kisses to the back of her upper traps.

"No. You still have nightmares at least three times a week. This can't be good for you. And you." She turns her attention back towards Steve, "Barely sleep four hours a night. You carry the fault on your shoulders, you don't need anymore. I don't want you two to go."

"We don't have a choice. They were my family once, I owe this to them." Steve didn't miss the way her lips moves to form a snarl, not sparing another glance as she makes a b-line for the stairs.

Bucky sighs, leaning against the wall. "She's going to be mad at us." Rubbing his chest with hopes to ease the burn.

The bond pulls at their hearts, a slow, painful punishment for their actions.

They return two weeks later, tired, just wanting to see their girl. The moment they walk into the house they look at each other with will wild eyes, heart pumping as they fear the worse. The dog, the annoying wiggling tail that would bark is one where to be found, something is wrong.

It's alarming. "Where is that freaking mutt?"

Steve calls her name, but there is no answer. Bucky and him are searching the house, ascending the stairs, opening the bedroom door with a deep sigh of relief.

The stupid dog takes up half of the bed, but is cuddled into his owner. Arm draped around the ball of fur, amount as long as her.

The dog lifts his head, a little tail waggle as Steve stretches his ears, lowering to his knees and laying his top half over the bed to press loud, audible kisses to his ears. "Good boy, protecting our girl while we are gone."

When morning comes she notices the dog is still pressed against her, licking small stripes against her cheeks. "Have to go out, buddy?"

She barely makes it five steps before tripping over two rather large bodies, sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. Bucky groans and Steve's eyes flicker open.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"Wanted you to sleep pretty girl. Mav was taking up all the room and you looked like an angel." Bucky hums in agreement despite his eyes being closed.

"Mmm, well it's all free now." It's short, simple but the sarcastic tone has Bucky's eyes flickering to meet his boyfriend's. They both sigh, staring up at the ceiling, knowing it's going to be a long day.

And it is. She's does whatever she can to get away from them, only answers with short replies to the point Bucky can't take it anymore.

"Sweetheart," Bucky tries again but she doesn't acknowledge him, eyes stayed glued to the book. He gets fed up, metal plates click as artificial appendages run over the binding and pull it from her grasp.

"Give it back, James."

He cringes at the name, a displeased frown wears his face. "No, you have to talk to us."

"No."

"You're bring a brat." Bucky starts, watching her expression change from annoyed to anger, wrinkles of frustration pinch between her eyebrows.

"Buck - don't say that to her." Steve comments, it's his fault, he's the one who said yes without confiding in her first.

"She is, it's over with now. She has no right to be this mad."

"No right?" Her chest fills with emotion as a humourless chuckle causes both men to stiffen. "No right? Huh Buck? I sat here for two full weeks, no communication, nothing while the two of you are out there fighting God knows what after you swore, promised you would always be with me. Don't promise me forever if you're just going to throw yourself in danger! You're going to die and leave me, or worse! Both of you will."

No one says a word, only watch as her chest rises and falls with deep, heavy pants despite the tears that rolls past her eyes lashes.

"Honey, I'm sorry -."

"I don't want to hear it James, and you." She turns towards Steve, fire in her soul. "I thought you would understand, more then him, considering it has happened to you."

She leaves the room without another word, Buck turns towards Steve, watching the way he fights the tears that gather. The pain of loosing Bucky is still so fresh, "She's right Buck, we fucked up."

"I know, I know." He mumbles into Steve's shoulder, pulling him close.

***

"You're so good to me, sweet girl." Bucky moans as she shifts her hips against him, the blunt end of his cock hitting the spot inside her that makes her squeal for more.

Large hands squeeze her hips as Steve leans over to find his boyfriend's lips, kissing him through the gasps and whines of their girl's name as she circles her hips around Bucky.

Steve's hands pull at his hair, lips trailing from his lips, down his cheeks before nipping at his jaw.

"How does he feel honey?"

"So good, Stevie." For a second he's in a trance, watching the way her face contours with pleasure and the pain of her third orgasm well on its way.

Steve lays next to Buck, hand wrapping around his own heaviness between his legs as he stokes it, switching between her face of pleasure to Bucky's, who bites his lip to suppress a moan.

It's short lived as hips stutter against her own, coating her walls with his warm cum.

Steve barely gives her time to recover, positioning her on his hands and knees before hovering over her ear and nibbling on it. "My turn, honey."

***

Her hands nervously shake, the kitchen table is all set up, dinner is ready but at the moment she doesn't have an appetite.

Between this morning sickness, the overall change her body is under going, food makes her sick. The opening of the front door makes her sit up straight, sucking in a deep breath.

Two voices conversationing in the hall, "I thought I said for you to lock the door when we leave." Buck is clearly annoyed, it's been a long day but Steve rubs his shoulders, mumbling something incoherent.

Upon entering the kitchen, they both grow worried. Face drained of color, red blotchy eyes with shaky hands.

"Hey, hey." Steve drops to his knees in front of her seat in an instant, hands curling around her wrist as worried steel blue eyes follow his stance, reaching over to stroke her cheek. "What is it? What happened?"

"I'm pregnant." She pauses, "I'm scared, I'm scared. What if someone comes for you? How are we supposed to raise a baby? What if it has the serum, will it ever be safe?"

The questions fill Bucky with dread, how much though put into every sentence, every word is like a new hit of pain to his body but he stays strong. For his girl, he leans forward, wiping the tears away from discolored cheeks. "Everything is going to be fine babydoll, you're going to be fine, our baby is going to be fine."

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fluff #fatws bucky #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve x bucky #steve x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stucky x reader #stucky

[iliveiloveiwrite]

When He Sees Me // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: Hey! I've just finished reading all of your Benedict fanfics and it's like, "let me have more!!!" *-* Could you maybe write something where the reader and Ben meet at Mr Granville's house? Where the reader is lower class and mocks him for with his lord manners, and eventually they get along well and all that? And he falls in love with her but she's just a seamstress and is scared he fetishizing her poverty and the "starving artist" lifestyle... Thanks in advance, love your writing xxx - anon.

A/N: Thank you so so much! This is such a sweet message. Thank you for requesting something from me; I can only hope I have done it justice. This is a really long fic, I know that - it really did get away from me. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy and I hope you are all well!

Title: Waitress - When He Sees Me

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and nudity, making out, amorous activities,  light voyeurism (very light), class divides, pining, mutual pining, fluff, light angst, humour, Bridgerton family feels. HAPPY ENDING.

Word count: 6.8k (this is so long, I am so sorry)

“Bridgerton!” Henry Granville calls, a large smile spreading across his face as he spies Benedict by the front door. “I was hoping you’d make it.”

“Here I am,” Benedict laughs, spreading his arms wide in evidence.

Granville chuckles, grabbing a glass from a nearby tray and handing it to Benedict who takes a healthy sip immediately. “Come,” Granville gestures, “Let me show you around.”

Benedict follows the man he already classes as a friend. He hums at the appropriate time, eyes dancing around every room he is taken into, taking in the numerous pieces of art and the growing number of people.

Finally, Granville leads him to a room bathed in studious silence. Five people stand in the room; four stand behind easels – the picture of concentration as brushes scratching on canvas is the only sound in the room. The fifth person stands proudly before the back wall; posing elegantly, a lady stands completely naked save for an apple held delicately in the palm of her hand.

“This is Ariadne, our life model for tonight,” Granville introduces, smiling at the model without an ounce of care that she stands naked in his living room.

“Ariadne,” Benedict nods, doing his best to look anywhere but her naked body. He wasn’t usually this awkward around women, but the last thing he expected tonight was a life model. His usual influences for art came from clothed members of the public.

Granville takes a seat at an easel, studying Ariadne with great care before picking up a thin brush. As he runs it through the nearby oil paint, he calls to Benedict, “Join us!”

Benedict shakes his head, heading towards the door. Granville nods understandingly; it was a lot for a person’s first time at a soiree such as this. “Another time perhaps,” Granville says as Benedict leaves the room.

Closing the door, Benedict leaves the artists to their muse. His fingers twitch for his sketchpad, thinking of the images he could create; he had seen the empty seat in front of a spare easel, but he couldn’t bring himself to sit down and create the art he saw in his mind. Another time, he thinks to himself.

He turns away from the door where his attention is immediately tethered to a couple across the hallway.

The couple are in the middle of an embrace; connected at the mouth with hands beginning to wander clothing. The stays to the lady’s dress are loosened, the relieved gasp quickly swallowed by her partner’s mouth. Hands continue to wander; moans swallowed by joint mouths. It’s a sight to behold even as the position is changed; the woman straddling her partner, beginning to move her hips to the rhythm of music only they must be able to hear.

Unable to tear his stare away from the couple, Benedict feels his mouth drop open at the impropriety before him.

“Come now, Mr. Bridgerton,” A feminine voice teases, “Surely you’ve seen worse.”

Benedict bristles; unhappy with the tone of her voice and the accusation lightly punctuating the air. “Not that it is any of your business, but I have seen worse.”

Her eyebrows fly into her hair, clearly not expecting the rebuff. Benedict represses a smile at the expression on her face; his eyes dance around the hallway, not knowing where to look without fear of landing on the amorous couple. Benedict had never been one to shy away from love and lust and where it can lead you, but he had never been witness to such an event. The last thing he needed for himself (and his family) was to be classed as a voyeur.

“Follow me,” She announces, crooking a finger at Benedict before walking away.

Helpless and out of his comfort zone, Benedict follows the nameless lady. His eyes pour over her figure as he walks behind her like a lost puppy; her dress is finely made, the fabric clearly new. Benedict keeps his eyes fixed head, refusing to let his gaze drop any lower as she opens a door, standing to one side to let him enter first.

The room is adequately sized; enough room for a fireplace already blazing, a couch big enough for two and a small table and chairs. It’s comfortable; the room is well lit from the candles around the room and the large fire.

The well-dressed lady follows Benedict into the room, leaving him standing in the centre as she heads towards a drinks cabinet. She grabs two glasses and a decanter of liquid that Benedict cannot decipher. Scotch, whisky, brandy – all three would fare him well at this point.

Wordlessly, she hands Benedict a drink. A knuckle’s length of amber liquid swirls in the glass, lit up by the roaring fire. “You have me at a disadvantage,” Benedict starts, “You know my name, but I do not know yours.”

She smiles; eyes crinkling from the force of it. “You can spy a Bridgerton by the colour of their eyes,” She snorts, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it, “I’m (Y/N).”

Benedict bows his head; the very picture of gentlemanly politeness. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

If possible, (Y/N)’s smile grows larger, trying her hardest to repress the laughter bubbling inside of her. “This isn’t your usual scene, Mr. Bridgerton.”

Benedict shakes his head. “I’m a friend of Henry’s and call me Benedict please. After being witness to the couple outside, I think we can forgo formalities.”

Laughter escapes her mouth, powerless to help herself. Benedict frowns at her reaction, but (Y/N) waves a hand in apology. “I remembered your face,” She offers in explanation, “You mentioned that you had seen worse, but you still looked so scandalised.”

Benedict huffs, crossing his legs, sipping at his drink before answering. “I didn’t know what to expect from tonight. Henry is an artist! I just never expected that.”

“We’re all artists, Benedict, in one form or another. We’re practically bohemian.”

“Does that happen often?” He asks, nodding towards the door where Benedict holds no doubt that more clothing will have been lost between the enamoured couple.

(Y/N) lifts a single shoulder in a shrug. “More often than not. The intimacy that is required with art combined with the amount of alcohol consumed tends to lead to such things.”

“Have you ever taken part in such things?” Benedict asks before realising the extent and implication of his words. “Forgive me,” He coughs, “I’m not usually so forward. You don’t need to answer.”

“No, I don’t think I do,” (Y/N) answers honestly, amused at the lack of filter from the Bridgerton. “Why don’t I ask the next question?”

“Please do,” Benedict responds, loosening the cravat at his neck, deciding to take it off altogether.

“Tell me,” She begins, eyes on the skin now bare to the room, “Do you prefer paints or pastels?”

“Neither,” Benedict answers, “I prefer graphite or charcoal.”

“Interesting…”

“Is it?”

“It is! But I cannot think of a reason why.”

Benedict snorts, draining the last few amber drops in his glass. Silent for a moment, Benedict hums before asking, “Do you draw?”

“Heavens no,” (Y/N) responds, “I’m a talented seamstress, but landscapes and watercolours are not for me.”

“Then why are you here?” Benedict asks; the words unintentionally sharp. He cringes before offering (Y/N) an apologetic smile.

“My friend invited me,” (Y/N) defends, “You met her earlier.”

“I did?”

(Y/N) nods. “You did. She was the life model you were trying your hardest not to ogle.”

Benedict flushes; heat spreading from his neck to his cheeks – partly fuelled by the alcohol in his system, partly fuelled by the knowledge of being caught out. Benedict clears his throat, unable to hide his embarrassment. “I didn’t think anyone had noticed.”

(Y/N) smiles widely. “They didn’t, but you don’t make it habit to frequent such parties. It was clearly a shock to your system.”

Benedict exhales with a laugh; all the while wishing he had another drink in his hand. “I’m not new to art,” He confesses, “But I am new to this… environment.”

(Y/N) leans forward in her chair; her eyes sparkling in the dim candlelight. A coy smile crosses her lips and Benedict idly wonders what she would taste like as she asks, “And what do you think of this new environment?”

Benedict drags his gaze away from (Y/N)’s mouth to look her in the eyes. Evenings like this are something he could quickly get used to so long as he had her company in the early hours of the morn. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he answers, “With your company, I’m fairly certain that I could come to enjoy this new environment.”

“Only fairly?” (Y/N) murmurs, sipping at her drink before continuing, “I think we’re going to have to turn ‘fairly’ into an absolute.”

Benedict tips his head to one side, wondering whether it would go against societal customs to offer his hand in marriage after only knowing someone for an evening. The thought lingers at the back of Benedict’s mind as he replies, “I have complete and utter faith in your ability to do such a thing.”

(Y/N)’s answering smile has Benedict wondering about marriage for a second time in less than two minutes. What would be the appropriate time to ask someone for their hand? He thinks. A powerful enough thought that Benedict has to look away from her; desperate not to ruin a newly budding friendship.

The clock strikes one; the chimes making (Y/N) jump as they ring through the tension-filled room. A sad sigh leaves her lips as she stands, placing her glass on a nearby table.

“I’m afraid I must go,” She declares, biting her bottom lip, lingering in front of the Bridgerton.

Benedict rises from his seat, his voice close to wobbling as he murmurs, “Must you?”

(Y/N) smiles wistfully. “Not all of us have family money, Benedict. I have two dresses to finish for tomorrow evening and I need to sleep.”

“Will I see you again?” He asks, unable to keep the hope from his voice as his mind spins all sorts of fantasies of their next meeting.

(Y/N) nods; Benedict’s heart soars.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Benedict Bridgerton. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Benedict replies a second too late. She’s gone and Benedict is left to wondering how many seamstresses there are in London.

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

If Benedict was thinking logically, he knew that there wasn’t thousands of modistes and seamstresses across London. He knew that the number was much closer to hundreds, but to him that was still too many. He thinks back over the interactions from that night, examining the conversations, trying to find a hint of whether (Y/N) had given him the address of her shop. The more he cross examines, the less evidence he finds.

At this point in his investigation to her whereabouts, Benedict was no longer thinking logically. He was thinking with his heart – desperate to see her again so soon. He didn’t want to have to wait until another party where she just might show up. No, he wanted to see her in her own environment where Benedict had no doubt she would flourish.

He makes himself wait three days before beginning the task of tracking her down. His first port of call was to Henry Granville, asking whether he knew anything of the lady accompanying the life model. Henry knew of her by face, but not much bar her first name. He leaves Benedict with a word of encouragement and a promise of another party soon; Benedict thanks the man heartily, knowing that Henry had tried his best.

However, it left Benedict in a predicament that meant he had to bring in reinforcements.

“I need your help,” Benedict pleads of his dear sister, Eloise Bridgerton a day after starting his hunt for her.

“Whatever for?”

“I need to find someone… a friend.”

“A friend?” Eloise asks sounding very much as if she didn’t believe a word leaving her elder brother’s mouth.

“Am I not allowed to have friends?” Benedict asks of his sister, exasperated at her curiosity. Eloise raises a single eyebrow, and it isn’t a minute later that Benedict begs of his sister, “Please do not tell mother.”

The laughter that leaves Eloise lasts for the next three streets, her chuckles grating on Benedict’s nerves. “Where did you meet her?” Eloise eventually asks, much calmer now that she had gotten the laughter out of her system.

“At Mr. Granville’s if you must know.”

Eloise doesn’t answer; she casts her gaze across her brother’s face, reading eh expression there and the hopeful look in his eyes. Whoever she was, she had done a number on her brother for him to be this desperate to find her.

“Why not wait for the next party?”

Benedict huffs, “She may not go to the next party, then I would be back at the beginning.”

Eloise falls silent again. She watches her older brother, watches how he fiddles with his fingers – a nervous tic he’s hand since he was a boy apparently, it happened more when he was itching to reach for his sketchpad in an attempt to keep his mind quiet.

“She’s really made an impression on you, hasn’t she?”

Benedict sighs, peering up at his sister as he calms his hands. “Please?” He asks quietly, not daring to voice the beg any louder than it needs to be.

Eloise reaches across the gap between them, covering Benedict’s hands with hers. For a moment, he isn’t the elder brother but a man in need of help. “I’ll help you, Benedict.”

“Thank you,” He replies; the relief in his voice evident as his whole body relaxes.

-----------

The tightness in his chest that has plagued him for the last week lifts as soon as his eyes land on her. She hasn’t seen him yet; too busy with another client gushing about their latest dress. (Y/N) looks flattered as she takes in compliment after compliment and Benedict can see why; she is clearly a talented modiste. If it didn’t raise suspicion on his end, he would suggest his mother come here instead of the seamstress just off Grosvenor Square.

The customer soon departs leaving Benedict and Eloise the sole clients in the shop. (Y/N) brushes down her dress, collecting herself before greeting her newest customers.

She freezes when she finds the tall stature of Benedict Bridgerton in and amongst the countless mannequins of her shop. Plastering on a polite smile, she steps forward, “How may I help you today?”

Benedict remains frozen; his stare solely focused on (Y/N). Eloise steps forward, nudging her brother in the side with her elbow. Eloise smiles at (Y/N). “From my brother’s reaction, we have found who we were looking for.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m in the market for a new dress,” Eloise states, elbowing her brother once more.

“Yes!” Benedict coughs, brought out of his stupor, “Eloise needs a new dress.”

(Y/N) glances between the siblings; the awed expression on Benedict’s face combined with the knowing smile on Eloise’s doesn’t settle her nerves. Instead, it heightens them. (Y/N) turns to Eloise, flashing her a friendly smile. “If you wouldn’t mind, could I borrow your brother?”

Eloise snorts. “You may keep him if that helps.”

(Y/N) laughs, covering her mouth before grabbing Benedict’s hand, leading him to the back of the shop. “What are you doing here?” (Y/N) questions; her eyes wide as she closes the door behind them. This was a conversation to have in private; not one to be had in front of Benedict’s sister.

“Accompanying my sister to buy a new dress for an upcoming ball,” Benedict replies smartly, his tone innocent as he applauds himself for asking Eloise to join him on his mission.

(Y/N) fixes him with a flat look, not believing a single word leaving his lips. Benedict flounders for a second before smiling bashfully at the seamstress. It wasn’t often that Benedict was left speechless, but (Y/N) reduced him to such manners.

After a moment, Benedict sighs, deciding honesty to be the best policy. “I wanted to see you again.”

(Y/N)’s face softens at Benedict’s confession, unable to fend off the growing fondness for the Bridgerton. If she was being honest with herself, (Y/N) hadn’t stopped thinking of the man since leaving Mr. Granville’s party.

Just as quick as the fondness set in, so does the worry on Benedict’s behalf. Gesturing between them both, (Y/N) offers Benedict a sad smile. “Nothing can come of this, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“What do you mean? Call me Benedict, you did the other night.”

“There were no class lines the other night,” She all but cries, “Outside of Mr. Granville’s home, we cannot be friends, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict,” He emphasises, “To you, I am Benedict. Not ‘Mr. Bridgerton’.”

“Benedict,” She whispers, giving in to the pleading look in those blue eyes of his.

“Why can’t we be friends?” He asks quietly as if scared to voice such a question louder out of fear of the response.

“You’re the son of a Viscount. I am a seamstress. Outside of my making dresses for your female relatives, where do our paths cross socially?”

“I want them to cross,” Benedict protests almost childishly, crossing his arms as if they were the personification of the budding relationship blooming between (Y/N) and himself.

(Y/N) laughs without humour. “Think of the fallout, Benedict. You would lose friends and contacts. I would be reduced to the rumour of a mistress and lose clients.”

Benedict purses his lips; trying to find fault in her argument but he comes up empty. Class lines were so rigidly drawn in current society and Benedict knew that (Y/N) was more than deserving to be thrown to the vicious rumour mill of London ton.

“What about Granville’s parties?” Benedict offers as a solution. “You say we cannot socialise so openly so let’s meet there with every party.”

“You would go to that extent to win my friendship?”

He nods. “I had the most fun the other night than I had in a long time and I have a very strong feeling it was down to you. You say we cannot be friends so openly, so this is the next best thing. Do I feel go about keeping you a secret? Not particularly, but London society can be unforgivably cruel, and I’ll be damned if I see you suffer at the hands of it.”

(Y/N) blinks rapidly, ridding herself of the tears that grew throughout Benedict’s impassioned speech. “Mr. Granville’s it is, then.”

Benedict smiles; relief flooding his system at your words of agreement. Impulsively, he takes your hand, squeezing it once before letting it drop. The very action sets his veins alight with emotions he has not felt in a very long time, but he doesn’t not let them distract him as he whispers, “I’ll send a messenger with the date and time of the next soiree. Will I see you there?”

“You will,” (Y/N) murmurs, “I promise you.”

Benedict flashes her a handsome smile before returning to the front of the shop, knowing full well he has been too long to be acceptable.

Eloise greets him with a superior smile. Crossing her arms, she asks, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Turning back to face the back of the shop, Benedict smiles to himself. “Yes, I think I have,” He answers, offering Eloise an arm, departing the shop once and for all.

-----------

28th April, 9pm. Mr. Granville’s home. I hope to see you there.

The missive arrives not four days later. (Y/N) reads and rereads the small piece of paper, memorising Benedict’s elegant handwriting. Anticipation curls in her gut making it hard for her to focus on the task at hand; she had three dresses to finish all for next week. If she didn’t focus now, nothing would get done. She would end up wasting the evening by daydreaming of a Bridgerton and their handsome smile.

She hadn’t expected him. He had entered her life so suddenly. After their initial meeting, she hadn’t expected to see him again; had accepted that it was a one-off meeting that Benedict would soon forget, soon taken with the newest fascination in his life if he wasn’t married off by the end of the season.

That didn’t happen. Instead, he had shown up in her shop with his sister in tow. He had begged for a friendship, to see her again. He kept surprising her at every turn, kept startling her when she least expected it.

Yet, she knew she had to be careful. Not only of her heart, but of her reputation. If the two were caught and things misunderstood, it would not be Benedict to suffer. It would be her; she would be reduced to rumours of impropriety, labelled a ‘fallen woman’ whilst Benedict would most likely suffer a harsh word from his mother and a clap on the back from his brothers.

Society, in general, was cruel. London society, however, was punishing when it wanted to be.

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

The 28th April rolls around quickly. (Y/N) losing herself in her work, sewing until the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning to ensure that the gowns are ready and that she is free enough to attend the party.

Stepping out of the carriage, (Y/N) steadies herself for a moment, taking a deep breath to settle the butterflies exciting her. She felt ridiculous, letting herself be this affected by the man after only one meeting. Yet, he had shown up at her shop, after searching for her for however long.

(Y/N) felt in two minds. On one hand, she wanted the friendship of Benedict Bridgerton for the simple fact that he was entertaining. On the other hand, she despised the idea that she may be a project for the man – their opposite places in society becoming a barrier between them.

The atmosphere in Mr. Granville’s house is heady as (Y/N) enters the premises; the party very much in full swing as she sheds her shawl and leaves it on a side table. She smiles at those she recognises, waving quickly at Ariadne who she finds modelling for many artists once more. Ariadne smiles back but doesn’t move; her eye on a particular artist, a female she knew she would be going home with that night.

(Y/N) shakes her head fondly at the antics of her friend; having known Ariadne for years and loved her proclivity for men and women. (Y/N) admired Ariadne’s lack of shame for who she is, who she wants to be. She doesn’t let the law stop of her from loving who she wants to.

Arriving at the door she entered through last time, (Y/N) hesitates, feeling unsure of herself. A small flash of doubt lances through her mind as she reaches for the doorknob; how long was this going to last before Benedict got bored? How long did she have with the man that was no doubt going to change her world?

The very thought haunts her as she enters the room, finding Benedict in the same spot as last time. He stands when he sees (Y/N) standing the doorway; his suit elegantly rumpled as if he had been sat there for some time. His blue eyes sparkle in the dimly lit room; the only light coming from the fire in the grate. His smile brightens as he takes in her appearance.

“You came,” Benedict breathes, his voice relieved as if he was worried that she may not attend the party after all.

“I promised you I would,” (Y/N) replies, taking the offered glass from Benedict. Their fingers brush and (Y/N) tries exceptionally hard to ignore the jolt of electricity that passes between them. Friendship, she snipes to herself, nothing more.

“I know,” He whispers, “But I’m glad all the same.”

Something in (Y/N) melts at the stark honesty of his words; she found herself being knocked off her axis and it was only their third meeting.

“I have to know,” (Y/N) starts, her voice amused as she takes a seat across from the brunette, “How many shops did you go into before finding mine?”

Benedict averts his gaze, distracting himself from answering by taking a long sip of his drink. “Too many,” He eventually answers.

“You don’t know the number?”

“I know the exact number, I could even tell you their names, but I hesitate to tell you.”

“You have to tell me now,” (Y/N) prompts, leaning forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the table. “Please?”

Benedict sighs a war-weary sigh; acting as if (Y/N) had worn him down to his very last nerve. With a light blush dusting his cheeks, Benedict admits, “I visited close to fifteen shops with Eloise before finding yours.”

“Fifteen?!” (Y/N) all but shouts, laughter soon falling from her lips as rain would fall from the sky. The very sound sets Benedict’s heart racing within his chest making him wonder whether it was going to run right out of his chest any moment.

“Eloise was very grateful when we found you. She despises dress shopping.”

“Yet she went to fifteen dress shops with you in order to find me.”

“She’s my favourite sibling, but don’t tell the others.”

“How many do you have? I’ve heard of the famous Bridgerton brood but never focused long enough to find out how many children there were.”

“Eight of us in total,” Benedict laughs at (Y/N)’s gasp, “We’re named alphabetically too. My father used to joke it was so he could keep track of us easier.”

“A wise idea,” (Y/N) murmurs.

“He was a wise man,” Benedict states, thinking of his departed father with a keen sting of grief. It didn’t matter how long his father had been gone, the wound would never heal. He would miss his father until his very last day on this earth; Benedict would spend the rest of his life trying to emulate Edmund Bridgerton’s life lessons.

A pensive silence descends only for a moment before (Y/N) asks, “Why did you look for me?”

The blush returns to Benedict’s cheeks. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to see you again?” He asks sheepishly. He had prepared himself for such a conversation but having it in real life was no comparison to the fantasy in his head.

“Why did you want to see me again? Why not wait for the next party?”

“I wasn’t sure you would attend the next party,” Benedict reasons, “And I really did want to see you again.”

(Y/N) smiles bashfully, ducking her head as his words wash over her. She fiddles with the stem of the glass in her hand before taking a long sip; the worries from earlier had returned with the conviction behind his words. She had to know; if she didn’t ask him, she would never know and she would never be prepared for the day he would inevitably grow bored and move onto the next project. “Can we be honest with each other for a moment, Benedict?”

“I thought we have been so far.”

(Y/N) smiles despite herself. Schooling her face into a mask of polite interest, she tries to cover the concern and worry steadily rising in her gut. “This isn’t a saviour moment for you is it? Befriending a poorer seamstress, getting to know her before eventually getting bored?”

“I haven’t thought of it as that for one moment.”

“You haven’t?”

“I haven’t, but the fact that you have says more about my character than I care to admit.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” She hurries to say, worried about losing the friendship that had only just begun and scared of hurting Benedict’s feelings.

“You haven’t insulted me,” Benedict promises with a small smile.

“I can’t help but worry,” She admits in a small voice.

“I would socialise with you in public, but you made such a sound argument the other week that I couldn’t find fault. You’re right, it could lead to all sorts of trouble, but I want you to know that I do not have a saviour complex. I just enjoy your company.”

(Y/N) relaxes, sagging further into the chair as she lets herself breathe freely since the worrisome thought entered her mind. Now that it was out in the open, she could smile more without worry. “I enjoy your company too,” She confesses, “You’re quite refreshing.”

“Refreshing?” Benedict asks, sounding close to laughter.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes at the older gentleman. “Yes, refreshing. I deal with meddlesome mothers and droll daughters all day. You make me laugh… it’s refreshing.”

“I’m glad I can provide refreshment,” Benedict laughs, his smile wide with his happiness.

Happy smiles are exchanged as the worries leave (Y/N)’s mind. She was wanted here by the man sat across from her; he had no plans to leave any time soon. For now, her mind is settled and as she raises her glass to the Bridgerton across from her, she briefly wonders whether her heart would soon be settled too.

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

The friendship continues for weeks; neither of them the wiser to their growing feelings for the other. If they are, they remain silent, not wanting to disturb the status quo but rather, pine from a distance.

They continue to meet at Mr. Granville’s, sneaking away to their room where they talk for hours about anything and everything.

At one point, (Y/N) manages to convince Benedict to bring his sketchpad with him where he fills pages with drawings of her. She doesn’t realise it; she doesn’t know that the small sketch of hands holding a champagne flute is Benedict’s study of her.

Time passes and they become attached to the other; saving pieces of information and stories of friends and family for when they finally get to see each other. The time they have together filled with laughter; the class lines that separate them outside Mr. Granville’s home practically invisible as Benedict chokes on his drink at the scandalous nature of (Y/N)’s story, unaware such language could leave such a woman.

It’s easy, it’s natural. It’s all Benedict has to fill his time between the mind-numbing balls and luncheons set up by his mother in order to find him a wife. Little does Violet Bridgerton know that Benedict has found someone he would devote the rest of his life to but whether she would be willing, whether she loves him as wholly as he loves her is another matter entirely.

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

He starts to haunt her dreams from their very first meeting. The colour of his eyes combined with the brightness of his smile chased her from sleep much faster than she would have liked.

Sitting up in bed, she rests her chin on her knees, feeling the helplessness that often accompanies the swift descent into love.

In the short time she had spent in Benedict’s company, (Y/N) had to admit that she had fallen head over heels for the brunette. Sighing heavily, she tries to pinpoint the exact moment her feelings turned from platonic to romantic but finds herself unable to do so. At this point, she cannot help but wonder whether she had fallen for him the first instance she saw him. He looked so out of depth in his perfectly pressed clothes; it was adorable.

(Y/N) runs a hand across her face in an attempt to dispel the lingering tiredness but to also ride herself of thoughts of the man who had so readily captured her heart without knowing he had done so.

How could she explain this feeling? Her heart refused to calm in his presence, beating away in her chest as if ready to take flight. Benedict smiled in her direction and her mind ceased to form coherent thought. She didn’t tell anyone how in the darkest hours of the night, she stretched a hand across the empty blankets of her bed, imagining what it would be like to have Benedict lie next to her. Would he snore? Was he an early riser or did he prefer to sleep in?

Such questions would travel the expanse of her mind until the birds began to announce the arrival of a new day. Her mind creating daydreams that left her heart aching in her chest when she came back to earth, reminded harshly of the barriers that divided them.

What scent did he prefer? Did he favour scotch or brandy?

Endlessly she tortured herself with such questions. Spinning fantasies in which she woke up every morning with Benedict by her side. She would wake to find him already watching her, as if in disbelief that she would choose to love a man such as him.

A single tear escapes (Y/N)’s eye as she forces herself back to the present. Eyeing her small rooms, (Y/N) thought that she should be fortunate that a man such as Benedict Bridgerton would give her the honour of his much requested time. It would do her no good to fall in love with him now.

Straightening up and running a hand through her sleep plait, (Y/N) vows to rid herself of her feelings for the second eldest Bridgerton.

However, as the vow is sealed, a small voice in the back of (Y/N)’d mind casts doubt on her ability to do such a thing.

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

“Eloise has been asking after you,” Benedict comments; choosing the line of conversation for this section of the evening. At this point, they’ve been at Granville’s home for hours, covering all topics of conversation conceivable. (Y/N) had updated Benedict on Ariadne’s clandestine love affair with a daughter of a prominent member of His Majesty’s Navy to which Benedict spent over an hour trying to guess which officer and which daughter. (Y/N) delighted in announcing his incorrect guesses.

“How is she?” She asks, feeling a distant fondness for the woman who had shown up in her shop so many weeks ago.

“Distracted if I’m being truthful,” Benedict murmurs, “Her hands are always covered in ink. I think she has an admirer.”

“And why shouldn’t she?” (Y/N) demands, crossing her arms. “Eloise is a beautiful young woman. Any man would be lucky to have her.”

“She’s turned down the last three marriage proposals so I’m curious to see what type of man has captured her attention.”

“Siblings and their nosiness,” (Y/N) admonishes though there is no heat behind it.

“I want what’s best for her,” Benedict defends.

“I know you do,” She whispers, fondness for the man sitting across from her surging through her. It leaves her quiet; it leaves her breathless as she fends off the heart racing, stomach turning affection she feels for the second eldest Bridgerton.

Benedict closes his eyes, kicking up his heels and resting them on the table. A happy, content smile crosses his lips as he lets himself enjoy the moment they find themselves in.

I could do this for the rest of myself, (Y/N) thinks to herself, I could sit with him for the rest of my life.

It’s with that thought that (Y/N) knows she has broken the vow she made only a few days ago.

“You’re different tonight… quieter. Is something the matter?” Benedict asks, a note of concern in his voice.

(Y/N) shakes her head, refusing to look the man in the eye. Instead, she focuses her gaze on her glass, swirling the liquid around as if it were the most fascinating thing in the whole world.

Benedict sighs, reaching across the table, taking her glass from her hand and placing it on the table in front of them. He stops himself from covering her hand with his; that is a luxury for couples. As much as Benedict wanted more, he would settle for being her friend.

“You can tell me anything, (Y/N),” Benedict murmurs quietly, breaking her resolve clean in half.

“I broke my vow,” She whispers, voice close to breaking.

“What vow?” Benedict asks, panic beginning to rise internally. “Are you promised to another?”

“Nothing like that,” (Y/N) reassures, “I broke a vow that I made to myself which somehow makes me feel worse. I would rather I broke a promise of marriage.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

(Y/N) sniffles, wiping a hand under her eyes before laughing humourlessly. “A few nights ago, I made myself a promise and it seems that I am unable to keep such a vow.”

“Would you tell me that vow?”

(Y/N) sighs, seeing no point in lying to him. “I vowed that I would rid myself of my feelings for you.”

“And have you?” Benedict asks warily; he needs to know whether he has a chance to love her the way he wants to. He wants to be her everything; he wants to kiss her goodnight and then kiss her good morning hours later.

She shakes her head; wisps of hair flying loose from her updo. “I don’t think I ever really tried. I don’t think I want to lose my feelings for you.”

“I don’t often make grand declarations, I don’t believe in over the top displays of affection,” Benedict begins; his eyes fixed on her face, on every movement of her lips, “But I love you, (Y/N). I love you and if I need to, I will make a grand declaration, I will shout it from the rooftop of Buckingham Palace.”

“Please don’t do that!” (Y/N) gasps, an amused smile on her face. “I love you too, I love you with everything I am, but aren’t you worried?”

“Worried?”

“Of the fallout? It could never work, Benedict. See sense, please,” She pleads; eyes wide.

“Why wouldn’t it work? We love each other, surely that should be enough.”

“It is enough for me, Benedict,” She reassures quickly, “But it isn’t enough for the rest of society.”

“Why do you care what they think?”

“My entire business relies on such things, Benedict! Whether I earn an income over the season is down to what the ton think.”

“It is so easy to get lost in the wealth, the titles and the balls,” Benedict whispers, “You bring me back down to earth; remind me that I could happily live without the grandeur because I would have the love of the woman I have come to adore.”

The words have her argument crumbling into ash before her. There was no arguing with that; he was prepared to live a simpler life with her.

“You would do that for me? Live a simpler life?” She asks because she has to know; she has to know that she isn’t something he would come to regret in the weeks, months, years that pass. She couldn’t live with herself if he harboured any resentment towards her for his loss of societal ties; the very thought terrified her.

“Darling,” Benedict states, “I would give it all up for you. As long as I have you, I do not need the life in London and everything else that comes with it. We can live in the country; I have a cottage there that I am sure you’re going to love.”

“What about your family?”

“They’ll love your almost as much as I love you.”

“They won’t hate me?” She asks, voice timid as she thinks of the matriarch of the Bridgerton family, knowing she was not a woman to cross.

“They could never.”

(Y/N) begins to nod; slow at first before growing more rapidly with a smile breaking out across her face. “Okay,” She breathes, “I love you, Benedict Bridgerton. I’m not scared anymore.”

Benedict gathers her in his arms, finally getting to hold her after dreaming of such an action for so long. Better than his dreams, he thinks to himself as he glances between her stare and her lips. Silently, she nods, smiling softly as Benedict takes that final leap, pressing their lips together.

(Y/N) sighs against his mouth; a noise he could happily hear for the rest of his life. Her hands grasp the lapels of his jacket, pulling him even closer. She feels like heaven against him as Benedict continues to taste the remnants of her drink on her lips.

Her hands leave his jacket, reaching up to card through his hair. (Y/N) tugs lightly at the dark brown locks, smiling into the kiss at the sound of the low groan in the back of Benedict’s throat. (Y/N) loses herself in the feel of the man against her; all hard lines and muscles, he feels like a Greek god and she a mere mortal getting to experience the heady passion written about in epic poems and plays.

Desperate for air, but not desperate to leave the arms of the man she loves so wholly, (Y/N) breaks the kiss. Panting, Benedict kisses her lightly once, twice, three times before pressing his forehead to hers. A moment of peace before the rush of the future began.

Boundaries, divides, lines really meant little when you had found the one who truly saw you.

****

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @janelongxox​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​ @magicalxdaydream​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @spideysz​

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagines #Bridgerton #bridgerton imagines

[theolsentimes]

Mary-Kate Olsen's Singular Style

She came to fame as a twin, but the actress's cultish look is entirely her own. Here, with Lauren Hutton, she pays homage to another fashion inspiration, Grey Gardens. Written by Laura Brown, with photography by Peter Lindbergh (Harper's Bazaar, 2007)

VIEW GALLERY

Mary-Kate Olsen may be the only young actress who breezes into her local Starbucks wearing towering, fashion-fierce Balenciaga boots, who arrives at her latest premiere (in Mary-Kate's case, for the new season of Showtime's Weeds, in which she plays a devout Christian with a pot fetish) sporting an oversize cross, and whose favorite band is Led Zeppelin. She may, in fact, be the only young actress who knows who Led Zeppelin is. MK, as she is known to her friends and family, is also a punctual and professional sort. She arrives for a poolside tea in Los Angeles 10 minutes early, ordering a hot chocolate while explaining her fetish for all things sweet — "I'm a candy girl, like Tootsie Rolls and Swedish Fish" — and objecting when the waiter tries to take the sugar bowl away. She is wearing a nautical striped T-shirt (her mom's, from the '70s), tucked into two black Wolford slips rolled down and turned into a tight, Robert-Palmer-video-style mini, and multicolored sparkly Christian Louboutin stilettos. She's just had her hair colored, returning to a sunnier shade after some experiments with both peroxide ("I woke up one morning and was like, I want white-trash hair today") and the dark side (an auburn-haired near-Goth moment last year). She's carrying a large black fringed leather Prada tote — she doesn't do small bags — and her fingers are covered with rings, most notably two vintage coiled gold snakes stacked on top of each other. ("They remind me of twins, sort of double headed.") Altogether, the effect is less her famed "bag-lady chic" than an edgy, body-conscious, and, yes, sexy silhouette. If she weren't 21, she could be 40. And French.

Few people need reminding that Mary-Kate — with her twin sister, Ashley — literally crawled into celebrity aged nine months (courtesy of Full House) and has not been out of the spotlight ever since. She has been a celebrity for more than two decades. Perhaps that's one reason she seems as if she came out of the womb worldly, the textbook old soul. "Yeah," she says with a small shrug. "I get that a lot." With all of that attention and all of the money (her and Ashley's company, Dualstar, has famously become a "billion-dollar business"), Mary-Kate could easily have ended up the type who wears pink terry cloth and carries a variety of small dogs. "Could you imagine?" she says with the politest version of a snort. "No way." She credits her exceptionally close-knit family (she has five siblings) and, interestingly, early stardom with helping her keep her perspective. "I think it helped that I started in front of the camera, so it didn't come as a shock. If I was a teenager and was thrown into the spotlight, I don't know how I would react, to be honest." Though the tabloids are all too keen to brand her a skinny, nervous deer in the headlights, in person Mary-Kate is easy in her skin, confident and surprisingly tactile, curling up in her seat and touching you on the arm to make a point. She laments the generic style of most actresses and cites only men as style inspirations: "Heath Ledger, Johnny Depp. Men, they just dress the way they want, and they don't think about Who Wore It Best." She doesn't much care for Who Wore It Best, noting she avoids those pages by "wearing vintage so often. I just dress the way I feel instead of looking for what's the new handbag." If Mary-Kate and Ashley have their way, more people will be wearing clothes and carrying bags the way they do. They have just shown the fifth collection of their ready-to-wear line, the Row, and recently launched a contemporary label, Elizabeth and James, named after a sister and a brother. The Row's holiday collection (in stores next month) is a slick mix of skinny leather pants, razor-cut blazers, butter-soft, slouchy tees, and a destined-to-be-cultish pullover fur. Lauren Hutton, who stars in the Row's Spring '08 look book, says, "The clothes are extraordinary. A man I was with just loved them. The pieces are just so genius, soft like a baby's skin. Simple minimalist stuff, but really spectacular." Mary-Kate, designer, faces an interesting challenge. She has to marry Dualstar — which has made its fortune selling tween-tastic DVDs and pastel Mary-Kate and Ashley T-shirts at Wal-Mart — with her increasingly edgy and subversive taste. Dualstar executives, some of whom have worked with her since she was a child, often nag her, mom-style, about pulling her hair back "or wearing a color," she says with a laugh. "I had this event recently, and I was like, They're going to be so happy that I'm wearing ... purple. I actually have to think about those things, though, you know, so I don't get trashed." Get trashed sometimes she does. Hutton says, "Once in a while, she'll wear something and I'll think, Oh, baby doll, take another look. But to have the bravery, to take the chance to do that, is pretty wonderful. She is making her own way, which is hardly ever done in Hollywood." Of Mary-Kate's penchant for gigantic Balenciaga heels, Jenji Kohan, the creator of Weeds, says, laughing, "I'd be like, 'It's Tuesday. Do you really want to be wearing those shoes?' But she pulls it off." Designer Giambattista Valli, a friend, says, "She likes to take risks, but because she has such strong personal style, she always manages to make it work. Even if she had nothing on, she'd have style." And MK chic is spreading. "Sometimes I'll look at people or at a magazine and I'll do a double take because I'm like, Oh, my God, that's my outfit, but that's not me," Mary-Kate says. Playing with her wire-rimmed aviators, she jokes wryly that she should have bought shares in Ray-Ban. (She and Chloë Sevigny pretty much brought back white '80s Wayfarers.) She tends to fall in love with a look, then wear it until she's done. "If I put together a good outfit, I'll wear it for three days and then switch it up with a blazer," she says. "I still love my vintage jeans, my tights, and my pants, though." She didn't start wearing heels, in fact, until a couple of years ago: "I kept watching Ashley walk around in them so gracefully, and I'm such a klutz. But I ended up loving heels, and I don't usually take them off." She wears precisely one pair of flat shoes: Chanel's knee-high patent-leather gladiator sandals. This season, it's Balenciaga's fall collection — all of it — that has Mary-Kate obsessed. She is close to designer Nicolas Ghesquière and says, "He is so talented, but he's the nicest, most down-to-earth guy, and that makes everything he does more brilliant. I bought everything, but I haven't got anything yet," she says like a girl impatiently waiting for Christmas. Will she wear the new pieces with her infamous clodhopper boots? "Uh-huh. Wore them the other day, actually." Mary-Kate always goes with her gut, even if some people (back to those tabloids) don't quite get it. "The tabloids say things about me? What do they say?" she asks archly. "People are going to write what they want, and everyone's going to have their own idea of who I am. But I'm not trying to be friends with the people who are reading them, really." After a rough couple of years filled with near-forensic scrutiny of her weight, she'll have you know that she does eat. "This is not going to sound good," she laughs, "but I like making crispy tofu sticks with peanut sauce. I love my sashimi and my salmon and my vegetables." She observes, "Stress plays a big role in how I look day-to-day. I've always been very active — Pilates, yoga. I grew up horseback riding every day for hours. I love dancing. I usually last longer than anyone on the dance floor." A common image of Mary-Kate has her emerging from a coffee joint with an oversize cup. "I always get creamed for having my Starbucks cup," she says, sighing. "But the only time people get photos of me is when I'm getting coffee, when I can't sneak away from the camera." She also resents the pictorial implication that she and Ashley are dilettantes. "They take photos of us going into our offices, and it's 'Mary-Kate and Ashley shopping again.' But I'm going to work for eight hours, and we're working so hard. ..." She trails off. "It just shows how people want to think of you." Mary-Kate is not above celeb watching herself, however. Newly obsessed with Victoria Beckham, she notes she avidly watched Beckham's Coming to America documentary: "She's running around in a bikini and heels, and I'm like, Oh, my God! I do that, too!" How positively Grey Gardens. "I run around my house naked with heels all the time. It's so funny. All my friends will tell you I love running around in kimonos and jewelry or naked with jewelry." More people will be watching Mary-Kate soon, thanks to her role in the Emmy-nominated Weeds. "I am a very good Christian girl," she says with a wink. "She has her moral beliefs — and she happens to smoke pot." Of her newest cast member, Kohan adds, "Mary-Kate is complicated. She's a big celebrity, a huge media icon, but you have to separate the media images from someone who has the same issues, the same desires, as anyone else." Of course, Mary-Kate's image, in all its incarnations — from high fashion to small screen — is her strongest asset. And she has yet to settle on one. "I feel like I've lived 10 different lives already and I'm only 21," she says, almost as a reminder to herself. "But I also feel like I'm entering a new chapter." One thing on which she is clear, though: She doesn't need to be looked at all the time. What would she do for a day if she were invisible? "I would probably go to a restaurant with my friends, who would be able to see me, of course," she adds pragmatically, "and I would sit outside and enjoy a nice lunch with them. Then I would walk down the street." The old soul takes a sip of her little-girl-sweet hot chocolate. "That's what I would do."

#Mary Kate Olsen #mary kate and ashley #Ashley Olsen #harper's bazaar #magazines #articles #photoshoot

[johnkrrasinski]

burning desire;

full masterlist

Pairings: Ari Levinson x reader x August Walker 

Word count: 2,779

Warning: SMUT!!!! familial sex (step-uncle & niece), threesome, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol. 

Summary: your step-uncle, ari levinson, brought a friend, august walker to his house one night during you stayover and things heated up real fast. 

a/n: this idea popped into my head out of nowhere and i just had to write it immediately. (my other wips are sobbing so hard right now) enjoy! please leave a comment & like. 

The mid-August air feels clammy on your skin, and the daylight glared brightly into your eyes, but thank the heavens that you were clad in nothing but your pastel pink bikini and your eyes were protected by your heart-shaped sunglasses. you always loved basking in the sun in uncle Ari's pool in his massive backyard. Your parents were currently out of town for business matters, as they always were and when they were away, you always stayed at uncle Ari's place.

His place was only thirty minutes away from your parents' house and you always loved coming over to his house. What's not to love? The fact that it was just as huge as your parents', designed grandiosely and located in a secluded area made you wish you could just move here. Not that your parents' was any less palatial but- okay, honestly, your parents' house was just as fancy and you were the princess ruling your little castle, so what was really the reason that you wanted to move here so badly?

If you're being honest to yourself, it was because of your ridiculously good-looking uncle. Seriously, the man had no right to be that attractive at that age. He was nearing his 40's and he could still make every woman in his path weak on the knees. His cerulean blue eyes, the thick beard and those ripped muscles never ceased to make a particular part of your body tingle when he is nearby. It wasn't helping either that he'd touch you so close to the part where you wanted him the most when you two were alone, or that he would speak in a really low tone by your ear, causing you to shiver. And you definitely didn't miss those flirty glances when he thought you weren't watching or when you were dressed in something a tad provocative.

It was as if you were playing a secret cat and mouse game that you were both aware of and you both kept playing but no one dared to admit to partake in it or put it to an end by making a move. The tension in the dining table when your parents invited him to come over for dinner or when it was just the two of you watching a film on the couch and you would lift your legs and fold them so your bare thighs would be displayed for him (which you would pretend you weren't aware of its effect on him.)

You were lost in your daydreams of him tearing that bikini off your body and fucking you rough in this pool as the water splattered around you when you heard his voice.

"Enjoying yourself?" his smirk was smug as if he could see the pornographic movie that was playing in your head.

"Uncle! give a girl a warning, will you?" you tried to maintain your composure, not wanting to show him the wet stain in your thong.

He walked closer to you and crouched down to your level. "Didn't wanna disturb you, you looked so relaxed, I thought I'd give you a few more minutes." Was he watching you? How long had he been standing there? "I got a friend coming over tonight, to watch the game. Just wanted to let you know."

"it's your house uncle, you don't need my permissions to have a friend come over." You chuckled.

"I wasn't asking for permission sweetheart, I was just informing you so you wouldn't be startled to see a stranger in the living room," he stood back up. "I got some errands to run. I'll see you tonight." you scoffed. Curt and enigmatic as always.

You were lounging in the room that Ari specifically spared for you. There were six bedrooms in his house alone and five of them were empty. He figured you must have your own personal space every time you visited. You walked to the kitchen to grab some snacks when you were stopped by Ari’s voice calling your name.

“C’mere, say hi to my friend, August.”

The sight of the man sitting on the couch next to your uncle stopped you in your tracks. My God, he looked like a Greek god. His sleek black hair was combed to the side and moustaches weren’t your thing but damn, he rocked it so well. His blue eyes took your breath away as he smiled at you and shook your hand.

“Oh, so you’re the friend uncle told me about.”

“Well, your uncle here doesn't have that many friends so I might be the only friend of his you’ll ever hear.” oh, the things his voice is making you feel…

You chuckled, “well, I don’t wanna be a bother. You guys are watching the game, right? I was about to grab some-”

“No, of course not. Come, sit. We can all enjoy the game together, right?” He took a sip of his beer.

“I’m not really into-”

“We insist.” His tone left no room for argument.

“…okay, I guess.” August and Ari made a room on the couch for you so you sat between them. To say you were nervous was an understatement. A million scenarios were going through your head right now. The image of being sandwiched between these two bulky men with your clothes off was making you uneasy. You were only wearing a big loose shirt that barely reached your mid-thighs. You weren’t wearing any undergarments except a black lace thong because it was summer and petit clothing items were all you packed. (Not like you were trying to impress a certain person, not at all.)

“You want one?” August offered you a drink. “Yeah, sure.” You were an adult now so what’s the harm in one? Your parents were thousands of miles away and it wasn’t like you had to worry about dealing with the hangover in the morning.

August put his arm on the headrest, behind your head and it made your breath hitch. You put your leg over the other to cover the arousal growing in your extremely minimum underwear. Ari took a sip of his beer and then spread his legs and the side of his thigh graze yours and you were growing hotter every second. It was as if they could sense your arousal and fooled around to rile you. You had to take control over your breathing but it was getting more challenging every passing minute.

“So, y/n, what are your plans for college?” August broke the silence.

“I actually am in college. I’m currently in my second year and I always come home during summer.”

“Oh, you certainly don’t look like any older than nineteen. My bad.”

“It’s alright, uncle.”

“August is fine.” He was watching you intently as if he was paying attention to every detail on your face. What was he looking for?

“What are you studying?”

“I’m in fashion design.”

“Suits you.” He winked, retreating his arm from the headrest, to open another bottle of beer.

August asked you several questions about yourself and you answered every single one. After a couple more bottles and the soothing sound of the TV, you found yourself getting drowsy. It felt nice being in the presence of these two beautiful men so you let yourself drift away. You didn’t realize that you had fallen asleep on Ari’s shoulder. When Ari called your name in a low voice and you didn’t open your eyes, Ari and August looked at each other and were ready to execute their plan.

Little did you know Ari had been talking about you to August for months. Who was he kidding? Of course, Ari was attracted to you. You were hot, young and promiscuous. Also, something about the fact that you were his brother's stepdaughter turned him on even more. He and August had been friends since college and they shared a lot of things ever since. They had many hookups with women whom they shared with. They were also business partners of a company that had bestowed them a lot of fortune. Hence Ari’s swanky place and the fact that he stayed single throughout all these years. He was never the ‘settle down’ type. He never told you about his business partner, you only knew that he existed, you just didn’t know his identity.

August sniffed your scent on your open neck, and the vanilla smell turned him on. He began to spread your legs and caressed your thigh until he reached your underwear. He chuckled when he felt the delicate material on his fingers, “she’s practically begging for us to fuck her brains out on this couch.”

“You should see what she wears every day in this house, it’s like she wants me to pounce on her,” Ari replied.

“She’s soaked. She should’ve just asked, we would’ve obliged immediately.” August rubbed you in circular motions through your thong and when he felt you growing wetter, he pushed your panties to the side and inserted two fingers into your entrance.

You gasped in your slumber, feeling something scissoring you open but your head was too fuzzy to figure out what was happening. August curled his fingers and stroked your G-spot and your breathing became ragged. You began to stir and mumbled under your breath. Your brows furrowed and when August’s fingers moved faster in and out of you and Ari began fondling your breasts through your thin shirt, your opened your eyes.

“Uncle Ari…”

“Shh, just sit back and enjoy, sweetheart. We’re gonna make you feel good.” He whispered sultrily in your ear. You whimpered when August’s thumb circled your clit, causing your head to spin. “God, you’re so hot. I’ve been waiting to put my dick into this tight pussy for months now.” August whispered in your other ear.

Your hand went into August’s wrist, needing to hold onto something. You knew this was wrong, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell them to stop or get up and run to your room. Ari’s hand went to your jaw to turn your head to him and kissed you with fervently. He licked your bottom lip and you made room for his tongue to tangle itself with yours. You were making out on the couch with your uncle as his friend had his knuckles buried deep in you.

You felt your muscles tightening and then the dam broke, making a mess all over August’s fingers. He watched your expression as you hit your peak. The image of you losing your mind sent electricity right to their cocks and they were eager for more now. They couldn’t wait to see the face you were going to make when they gave you a bigger one.

You thought they would at least give you a few seconds of repose after the onslaught but you should’ve known better. You knew that Ari was a hustler when it comes to what his heart desired. And now, his body yearned for you and he didn’t waste any time in undressing you from the scanty garments you had on.

August sucked on the sensitive spot of your neck, leaving little love bites here and there before biting the spot where he wanted to mark you. You bit your lip at the thought of parading around Ari’s house with those sensual bruises reminding of the sinful act the three of you committed last night. You didn’t think as far as how you were going to act around Ari now after tonight but you were surely hoping that this wasn’t a one-time thing.  

Ari was still possessing your mouth with his, his plump lips felt soft on yours and they tasted even better than your fantasy. Ari pulled his lips away from yours and looked at his partner, “should we do doggy or missionary?” Ari asked as if you weren’t there at all.

“Missionary, I wanna see those tits bounce,” he smirked against your skin.

“Fuck yeah,” Ari keened.

They began stripping and you couldn’t help but watch. My God, they were sculpted to perfection by the hands of God themselves. The sweat on their skin made them glow from the ray of the TV. They pulled down their pants and their massive cocks sprung free and you could’ve come right there. Their packages were impressive, would they even fit inside you? You were drooling at the sight and you needed them to fill you up right now or you were going to explode.

“Lay back,” Ari commanded.

You did as he said and folded your legs to make room for Ari. The couch was large enough to fit two more people in here but you needed them as close as possible. Ari knelt on the couch and August was above your head. They both began stroking themselves as they kept their eyes on your naked body. Ari was staring at your drenched pussy and August imagined spurting all over your breasts.

“Open your lips, little girl.” You obliged and August pushed the tip of his cock into your lips and he pushed deeper until the tip hit the back of your throat. You looked up at him staring down at you with a predatory look. Ari pushed his cock into your entrance and your tight walls welcomed him with open arms causing him to throw his head back and groaned.

Ari had his hands on your thighs to keep them apart and he began pulling out until only the tip was left in you and pushed back vigorously like he was trying to invade your body. August began moving at the same pace, and he groped your breasts, pinching the nipples. The sting elicited a moan out of you, causing a delightful vibration flowing in his bones.

“Fuck, you’re as tight as I imagined,” Ari grunted. Your warmth wrapped his girth and he pounded into you as your breasts jiggled from the rough pounding. He lifted your legs onto his shoulders so he could delve deeper. He impaled the spot that made you forget your name and you clenched around him. The squelching noises that your pussy made blended with his pre-cum were lewd.

August grunted as you took him in your mouth as much as you could. You struggled to control your breathing with Ari ramming into you mercilessly and August’s size intruding your throat but you were getting off on it. You felt every inch of them inside you, the velvety skin and the raw taste were intoxicating. You hollowed your cheeks and let August use you. Let them both use you like a rag doll.

Soon, you were both moving in sync as the couch squeaked due to the impetuous action happening on it. Ari accelerated, chasing his own orgasm and you pulsated. The familiar pressure forming once more, ready to burst any second now. His cock throbbed and you tightened around him. A few more deep-seated thrusts and he came undone, painting your walls with his hot cum and filling you up so well.

You fell apart beneath him as well, moaning in ecstasy around August. If you weren’t muffled by his cock, you would’ve screamed so loud. You trembled and your legs shook. He pulled out of you and watched his juices leak out of you. The soreness between your thighs was pleasant and you were completely spent from Ari alone but you were definitely satisfied. If only your parents could see the blasphemous act you and your uncle had just committed. And you weren’t even finished yet.

August chased his own climax as well, needing to release the tension in his muscles. Profanities fell from his lips as he released on your tongue and you swallowed every drop of him. You were a sweet tooth but his salty taste had you addicted. You whimpered and panted on the couch, hoping that one of them would give you a warm bath to clean you up and bring you to your comfortable bed and wrap you in your blanket but then,

“We’re not done yet, princess.” August and Ari switched places and now August was kneeling between your legs while Ari was above your head. God, you were so worn out, you didn’t know if you had any more energy left in you to take them again. “You’re all ours tonight. And we’re gonna keep playing with until we’re satisfied. And trust me, we are far from being satisfied.” August whispered huskily in your ear as his raging hard cock penetrated you and Ari pushed himself through your opening lips and you could taste yourself on every inch of him.

Looks like it was going to be a long night.

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