The wine he drank earlier this evening doesn’t compare to the heady mix of Paddy’s scent filling his nose when Eoin finally rests his head on his chest with a sigh — the remnants of army issued soap from when Paddy had taken a shower before going to the Empire Club, sweat because the desert heat doesn’t care about showers, and something so uniquely Paddy, Eoin’s mind can’t recreate it, no matter how hard he’s tried. Burying his nose in the fabric of Paddy’s undershirt, Eoin can’t keep the moan rising from his chest; days without Paddy have left him desperate and aching in a way he’d have been embarrassed by if he couldn’t feel Paddy’s twitching fingers on his hips, clutching him closer as Paddy’s breath catches in his throat.
“This is a bad idea, lad,” Paddy warns, though his voice cracks halfway and one of his hands drifts to the base of Eoin’s spine, pressing down just slightly.
“You like bad ideas,” Eoin retorts, closing his eyes to better feel the rumble in Paddy’s chest.
---
After agreeing to go to Burma, Eoin finally gets Paddy alone since the other left for the hospital a few days ago.
In the moon the long road lies (That leads me from my love) (only on AO3) 14,883 words (2/2)
Eoin’s Addam apple bobs a few times before he meets Paddy’s eyes, a torn expression on his face. No sounds escape him when he opens his mouth then closes it, seemingly unsure of what words to use and the world shifts in Paddy’s eyes, like the Earth has stopped spinning or tilted on its axis, something fundamentally wrong in the sight before him. A writer with no words. Eoin without joy.
After a second, Eoin sighs, shoulders dropping in defeat. Still, he looks Paddy in the eyes when he speaks, and his voice does not shake.
“I’m still going to Burma, Paddy.”
---
Chapter 1 is completely SFW and can be read as a standalone <3
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Praying At The Foot Of Your Love (also on AO3), 1,576 words
Paddy jumps with no prayer on his lips, only the ghost of unspoken words tingling up his palm from where he'd squeezed Eoin's upper arm.
He doesn't pray either when the impact with the ground knocks the air from his lungs, pain reverberating in his bones until his teeth rattle with it. The wind drags him away, over stone and coarse sand that tears at his uniform, and the parachute straps burn the skin of his palm as Paddy tries to hold it still so he can cut it loose. Adrenaline pumps fast in his blood, dictating his actions while his mind is ruthlessly efficient.
Cut loose from the parachute. Find Eoin.
If I don’t make it back from where I’ve gone, just know I loved you all along (also on AO3), 969 words
Eoin hasn't woken up yet.
For three days, his eyes have been closed, his fingers not twitching a bit — Paddy would have seen if they had. If it wasn't for the rise and fall of his chest — barely there when Paddy had first found him and still so weak Paddy has to lay a hand on Eoin's chest to be sure he's not imagining it — one could believe he was dead. The chair digs uncomfortably in Paddy's back but he doesn't shift to find a more comfortable position. If anything, he settles back into the chair, lets the hard wood dig deeper into his aching muscles and bruised skin.
The doctor said it was unlikely Eoin's feeling the pain of his wounds, caught in a sleep so deep not even the chatter and hustle of the hospital could draw him out of. No frown of discomfort crosses his face, no pursing of his lips to withhold cries of pain. But there's no flutter of his eyelids like there would be if Eoin had only been dreaming either.
About The Other Night (also on AO3), 1,388 words
Eoin never mentions Blair's lack of reply, but his hurt spills over the sheets like blood, palpable in every word even when he's only writing about his day or giving news of his family. Blair can read it in the uneven space between the words, the blotch of ink on the E of Eoin at the end. It makes his heart hurt every time, but his hands shake too much whenever he pulls a blank sheet of paper to write back.
Dear Eoin, is as far as he ever gets, the words suddenly disappearing from his mind as he remembers the night before he left. The curve of a spine under his palm, the hitch of a breath against his ear, soft hair under his chin. Warm, pliant lips under his own, desperate and gentle at the same time.
Eoin, hair splayed on Blair's pillow like a halo of curls, looking up at him with bright eyes and kiss-swollen lips, pink and parted around a smile as he reaches up and towards Blair, pulling him closer until he can laugh his joy in the crook of Blair's neck.
To all the things housed in her silence, nature offers a violence (only on AO3) 47,578 words (5/5)
Art made by Ven
Paddy is no stranger to anger or violence. Yet his world is turned upside down when he has to accept something darker lurks inside of him, a beast much more dangerous than anything he's ever faced before - but no less fond of Eoin than Paddy himself. Can Paddy reign in this beast or will he lose himself trying?
-
The readiness with which he bends to Eoin's will should frighten him. Yet, Paddy's blood runs cold for another reason; it is fond of Eoin, too. More than that, it craves Eoin's company with such primal need it drives Paddy mad, a pull stronger than gravity urging him to get ever closer to Eoin. Sitting next to him isn't enough, not when Paddy's mind buzzes with the need to bury his face in Eoin's neck, or when his fingers twitch to touch pale skin, and wipe the beads of sweat at Eoin's temple. Listening to him talk is torture when all Paddy can think of is how Eoin's words would feel against his skin.
Any semblance of distance is felt like a privation of something that the beast cannot live without — but the sensation of lack is so strong and runs so deep, Paddy cannot tell if it is it or him that suffers most from Eoin's absence.
A Kiss, If You Would Series (all prompts are from @ohisms' Kiss & Tell list)
In The Morning Light (also on AO3), 758 words
For the prompt : Kissing your lover lazily first thing in the morning
Eoin loves him so much it hurts.
“Good morning, love,” he whispers in the narrow space between them, savouring the pet name as it rolls off his tongue. Paddy relaxes even further in his pillow, though his arm, still curled around Eoin, brings him closer.
“Good morning,” Paddy answers in kind with a small smile, eyes soft and fond if it weren’t for the mischievous twinkle in them, leaving no doubt as to how the morning would be spent.
A good morning indeed, Eoin thinks, bringing a hand to cup Paddy’s cheek, thumb brushing the tender skin beneath his eye. The lines around his eyes are relaxed, brows not pulled together as they so often were in Sicily. Paddy looks soft and at home, here in Eoin’s arms, and Eoin can’t think of a single thing he wants to protect more. Paddy’s light stubble is a pleasant burn against his palm when Paddy nuzzles his face against it, turning just enough to press his lips to the heel of Eoin’s palm, achingly tender; Eoin’s heart swells in his chest, so full of love it might burst out of him.
White Rivers of Gold (also on AO3), 7,152 words
For the prompt : A kiss on a freshly bandaged wound
After being released from the hospital and joining the SAS in Jalo, Eoin is still coming to terms with Operation Squatter and the wounds he's suffered. Paddy helps.
The Library Incident (circa March 1944) (also on AO3), 965 words
For the prompt: A kiss muffled by laughter in a library, hidden away among the shelves.
Reg hadn’t meant to walk in on them. He’d just wanted to go back to his sleeping quarters and retrieve his knitted jumper before going back outside to teach the new recruits how to get the upper hand in close combat; the library had merely been a shortcut in this grand Scottish manor. But now, hunched over to take as little space as he can and breathing shallowly through his nose, Reg is severely regretting not choosing to suffer the Scottish weather.
Two shelves away, not even fully concealed from view, Eoin McGonigal has Paddy Mayne, Reg’s friend and CO, pinned against a wooden shelf, hands freely roaming under the green army shirt. Muffled laughter reaches Reg’s ears, and his eyes widen; though it seems impossible, Paddy Mayne is freely laughing, head tucked in McGonigal’s shoulder.
The Lad That Loves You True (also on AO3), 2,556 words
For the prompt "Kissing them to confess your true feelings"
On December 5th, 1938, Eoin turns eighteen.
To find all my writing on Tumblr, you can use my ali's writings tag, and if you only want to find the ficlets I wrote that aren't listed here as they are under 1k, they're under the fic titles meme tag <3
I'm always open to writing request (prompts or mere ideas/situations you'd like to see paddyeoin in) if you'd like to send any 🥰❤️ And if you'd like to be tagged whenever I post a new writing piece, please send me an ask/dm or reply to this post 🫶🏻
In every relationship there's someone who has never been told no by their partner in their life, and someone who goes "Fuck, I still can't say no to them after all these years" on the regular
big fan of that trope where like. something really awful happens to Character or someone they love and they manage to catch the bastard who did it and get revenge. and it's righteous at first and everyones on their side but it slowly devolves into abject cruelty as everyone looks on in horror. dude that's enough he's stopped twitching etc etc
hiii you should picture your character washing up on the shore, tossed like a ragdoll in the surf, soaked to the bone and shivering. they're probably covered in cuts from razor-sharp rocks and barnacle shells, the saltwater tinged with blood and stinging with every wave. the temperature and the fight to keep their head above water has completely sapped their strength, limp on the shore and exposed to the elements
