#Places to eat Cornwall

[phagodyke]

damn I rly have another 4 weeks of holiday this year huh. I should start making some plans

[belokhvostikova]

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Halloween had stamped itself as Hawkins' favorite time of the year, where teenager party and murderers prow. And you come face-to-face with that, when a particular masked man takes a special interest in you.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, crying, alcohol consumption, minor sexual harassment, stalking, mention/allusions to murder, and explicit sexual content: groping, degradation, choking, role play (serial killer), mask kink, knife play, oral (male and female receiving), rimming (male and female receiving), squirting, cum eating, squirt make out…?, semi-public sex, dubcon (part of the role play), non con, and unprotected vaginal sex.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | What do you mean it's not Halloween? It's always Halloween. Especially when it involves Ghostface!Eddie. Oh, and this is also a Modern!Eddie story. But wait, can you image Rockstar!Eddie singing "In the Room Where You Sleep" as, like, a Halloween special- I'd have an aneurysm. Sorry, that was a lot of Eddies.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 12.8K

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“Hey, it’s Eddie… or is it? Ha! No, it’s totally Eddie. I’m busy ignoring your calls, so leave a message or finally take a hin-”

The harsh smudge of your fingertip against your phone screen discerned your frustration, as you hung up with a huff, pacing your clacking footsteps a second faster than before. 

But it all fell short, when the heavy set of footsteps that trailed behind you only quickened to keep up.

Faster. Aggressively. Shit.

For the third time in a row on that brisky night, your call had went straight to voicemail. And you were ready to kill Eddie Munson. In retrospect, castigating your boyfriend for merely doing the very thing you criticized him about on a near daily basis—the whole “stop answering your phone while you’re driving” debacle that took place every time Eddie picked up one of your calls while heading somewhere, then rebutting you with a “but I love hearing your voice, it relaxes me” that he always whined out—was hypocritical, at best, but given the circumstance, you were exhorting to have your boyfriend disobey your word of safety for your safety. 

And the desperation that palpitated from the fervent clicking of your heels hitting against the rough pavement of the sidewalk to speed up your steps was starting to become humiliating. Because one step away brought them one step closer. By the nose, you narrowly glanced back. 

The same mask. The same hood. The same heavy boots. The same entity that followed you through the hallways of Steve Harrington’s wooded, stately home on the night of Halloween. 

Only the clock had struck a quarter past midnight. Halloween was over. The month of November had come. And yet, the figure behind you kept the mask on. Despite the lengthy walk from Harrington’s back patio to the intersection where Mirkwood and Cornwallis met, the mask stayed on. And your heart was beginning to race. You finally faced it. “God, you freak, stop following me!” Their steps halted. Gloved hand clenching around the handle of a knife that you wished to be of plastic. “My boyfriend’s on his way, so fuck off before he gets here!” God, you really hope he was. 

Turning around in a huff, your eyes constricted with frustration, as the steps behind you continued, in sync with yours. Coming closer. And closer. 

It’s just some stupid prank, you rationalized. It was one of the Stafford kids. Probably Declan Stafford. He was alway the worst out of the pair. It was best for your sanity to repeat that mantra over and over until Declan Stafford finally gave in and took off the mask. Only Declan Stafford was a fifteen-year-old sophomore. And you were desperately enforcing the incredulous lie that the possibility of Declan Stafford suddenly gaining muscle and height in the course of a single day was plausible. It wasn’t. But admitting that would be admitting that this wasn’t some immature teenager’s prank. 

And you were actually being preyed upon. 

“Hey, it’s Eddie… or is it? Ha-”

Why?! Why out of all the times Eddie blatantly ignored your concerns of picking up the phone while driving, did he actually decide to listen to you on the one night you needed him not to?! Straight to voicemail. Again. But when you angrily hung up on Eddie’s pre-recorded tone—the one you couldn’t find endearing at this given moment—you heard it- or rather, didn’t hear it. The quietness. The crunching of fall leaves being flattened under heavy boots was no longer lingering. A biting breeze howled, and a hunting owl hooted. But no footsteps. 

You hesitantly turned around…

He was gone. 

Your shoulders fell with the relief of your untightening chest, as your joints unlocked from tension, a foggy breath escaping in solace. For a moment, you relished in the quietness of the night with closed eyes. Something you hadn’t realized you missed so deeply until you had it back in your possession.

With a dissipating heartbeat, you ran a hand over your perspiring face that felt ablaze with terror. But Declan Stafford, or his other half, or whatever other delinquent freak that it was was finally out of sight, and you cursed the juvenility of boys during the night of Halloween. 

Fighting the liquor that buzzed your body with heightened emotions, you blinked the dryness of your eyes to steady the blurred disfigurement of your phone screen. Your thumb smashed against Eddie’s contact once more, a last resort to finally chew him out, as you teetered on high heels to turn back on your trek. 

Only, your steps halted at a sudden obstruction, and you watched the tempered glass of your screen protector crack against the pavement at your feet, as your heels stood toe-to-toe with the boots that plagued you. 

“Hey, it’s Eddie…” Your head slowly followed up the broad, black figure, “…or is it? Ha! No, it’s totally Eddie.” Your stomach sank to the stagger stature that overpowered you. “I’m busy ignoring your calls.” His mask, deprived of anything holy, stalked down your trembling frame, mocking you with the tilt of his head.

Your breath became lodged in your throat.

“So leave a message or finally take a hint.” Your mouth dropped with the words you couldn’t find. And he allowed you the grace of one step back, before…

“AH- mmm!”

The leather of his glove smeared your lipgloss with the tightness of his grasp, as your screams diffused into a muffle of wails. With much resistance, your nails bit through the sleeved fabric of his clothes, but nothing was penetrative enough to deter his strength, merely constricting your flailing body more with a muscled arm. Your enveloped screams cried of defeated desperation, as you lost your footing to the strength of his embrace, now at his mercy.

In the distance, a meandering stray may have startled at the abruption of your stifled pleas. But in the beat of a second, they’d continue their hungry journey for a helpless mouse or scraps, as your screeches would succumb to the darkness of night.

No longer salvageable.

-

SEVEN HOURS EARLIER 

“Mm… saw something touching your head, in the room where you sleep, mm…” You thrummed to the buzzing tunes, scrunching your face as an averse to the tickle of your makeup brush, against your greatest efforts of trying to stay still. 

But with a little black there, and some pink here, you squealed with anticipation of the night to come. 

Autumn had brought a chilling front to Hawkins, Indiana, and the small town of suburbia had never looked so good with a flood of orange and red crunching beneath the tiny feet of early trick-or-treaters. Credits to the Yankee Candle that burned its essence in the corner of your bedroom, the fall season felt at ease with the cinnamon apple that warmed your being. 

“You better run, mm, you better hide…” Should the day ever come that you discover that you were actually singing along to the voice of Ryan Gosling, you’d flip your shit to your boyfriend on an endless ramble, but until then, you’d cluelessly enjoy the ominous tune of Dead Man’s Bones in the name of Halloween.

In the reflection of your vanity, you shifted in the various angles of the beaming sunset until you were fully satisfied with the face paint that decorated your features.

You stood from your place, prancing about to the beat of the music, as you swayed your way to your bed, where your purchased costume displayed itself, awaiting you. While your boyfriend appreciated the art of Halloween, and had much interest in the horrors behind it, the anticipated “costume talk” fell on deaf ears- or, at least, defensive ones. Something about looking stupid, you weren’t entirely sure. Though, what you did know was pointing out the irony of not wanting to look “ridiculous” whilst sporting a mane like his in retaliation was not at all a good idea, as his response came in the form of torturing you in the dramatics of wrestling on his frumpy mattress. 

Touché, to Eddie Munson. It came as a good deterrence away from the conversation that would inevitably lead to him wearing something you sparked from Pinterest. Because in the end, Eddie Munson could never say no to you. 

No matter how stupid he’d look. 

But, as any reputable couple therapist would advise, compromise is key. And where you insisted on a cute couples costume, Eddie met you with the request to, at least, get to choose what that may be. And much props to him, you swooned at the adorable idea of being the abducted cow to his alien. 

Only, Eddie didn’t allow you to celebrate too soon, as he vowed to go the whole nine yards. Devoid, black contacts; gargantuan, bald head; pale, soulless skin; creepy, gross tentacles. “I’m Heidi Klum-ing this bitch, sweetheart.” That night, you regretted ever showing him the moment a 5’9 worm walked the carpet. Something Eddie Munson severely got a kick out of. 

You straightened out your patterned skirt, smiling for the night that was about to come. With shoes needed for completion, you turned to retrieve your platform pumps, only… your peripheral had caught the silhouette of something- someone… staring… watching… stalking. 

Claiming the once calm view of your bedroom window. 

The October chill brought a draft against your mother’s clothesline, where her linens flowed in the evening setting, and there it was. Peaking through sheets, masked, and dark. 

Your eyes squinted to confirm the sight, as you hid behind your curtains, feeling your stomach plummet. What a psycho. Understandably, Halloween had declared itself around the idea of fright, but that came with the common consensus of harmless jumpscares and innocent pranks, not trespassing. “Stupid teenagers.” You mumbled to yourself. 

But a sudden bang from inside your house had you gasping, petrified. “Dad?” The hairs on the back of your neck stood with alarm. “Mom?” Footsteps rang closer.

And closer.

“Hey- woah.” Eddie Munson, himself, flinched at the sudden shriek that left your mouth at the abrupt opening of your bedroom door. His brow cocked at the heaving of your breath, your hand clutching to your chest. “Hey, sorry, it’s just me, baby, you alright?” He eyed you.

“Shit…” You huffed out. “You scared me!” Your mouth pouted at the chuckles he teased you with. 

Eddie smiled, mimicking your pout in faux sympathy. “Why? Thought you heard me comin’ in.”

“Ugh, well, yeah, but some immature kid is-” You turned back to your window, where suddenly nothing but your mother’s laundry hung to dry in the emptiness of your yard. They were gone. “I- what?” You inspected closer, your breath humidifying the glass. 

Eddie questioned your strange behavior. “What?”

You rotated in his direction. “N-Nothing. It was nothing- anyway, what are you doing here?” In an attempt to recover your uncanny nature, Eddie scoffed at the hasty rudeness your tone snapped towards him. 

“Well, for one, your dad let me in.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Y’know, I think he’s really starting to warm up to me.” His eyebrows jumped with cockiness.

And it became your turn to scoff at his presumptuousness. “If anything, he hates you a little bit more this time of year.” Because Halloween of 1984 became the year Hawkins, Indiana was terrorized by the vandalism of hoodlums, coined the “Toilet Paper Bandits.” Plastered on every front page of the Hawkins Post, the column followed the story of homes that became a victim of delinquency. Yours being one. Where you could find a little humor in your house, amongst others, being TPed, your father, as a mortgage-paying homeowner, became quite livid. In fact, you could vividly remember the rage of, “of course, it was that Munson boy,” when surveillance caught your soon-to-be boyfriend smiling sadistically with a roll of toilet paper in hand amongst his friends. “You gave him PTSD. He’s vowed to stay up all night to catch any ‘Munson wannabes.’”

Eddie barked out a laugh. “Hey, now, if it wasn’t for that night, his beautiful daughter wouldn’t be getting treated right by her strong, sexy boyfriend.” He smoldered in pride. And, as much as you could roll your eyes at Eddie Munson, he was far from fibery, as the night that followed Halloween of 1984 was filled with the sincerest apologies to all sufferers of his actions (not really, just you, as he always thought you were cute).

“Whatever, but seriously, though, Eddie, you’re not supposed to be here ‘til later, why are you here?” You interrogated. “I still have to finish getting ready, you do, as well.” You emphasized. 

With calloused hands delicately caressing your face, Eddie thought of his next move. “Aw, look at you, my cute, little heifer.” Because if not buttered up with affection, he knew you’d be devastated at the news to come. 

Your mouth fell agape. “Don’t say heifer!” Your hand collided with his chest. “Say cow! Cow is much cuter than heifer!” 

And he chuckled at your annoyance, always proud of his accomplishments that left you feisty. “You’re right, I’m sorry, baby. You are a very gorgeous cow! Best out of stock! You’d be, like, the one the farmer doesn’t slaughter for a burger.”

“Right, just kept to be bred for the entirety of my life.” While only a joke, you knew his sick mind would run miles with it, as the inevitable lip bite came to play. 

“Ooh, now that you mention it-”

“Don’t even start, you freak!” Your hand brandished over his mouth, only for you to shriek at the contact his wet tongue made with your palm, before taking a playful bite of your skin.  

But with the bite came an abundance of kisses to your fingers and knuckles, as Eddie held your hand close to his lips, eyes peering down at you with caution. “Please don’t be mad at me.” His words mumbled against your skin. 

Your brows furrowed with confusion. “What?”

Eddie sighed. “Boomer called me.”

You knew what entailed when Boomer called. “No!” You couldn’t help the petulant whine in your voice. 

“He wants me at the shop tonight.” Eddie kissed his teeth with a groan. And before your mouth could even form the hurdling question as to why, Eddie was there to clear it up with a sweet kiss to appease the disappointment. “We got a couple’a cars Boomer’s been hounding on us to get finished. ‘Specially, since Rick just had his baby, n’ all, we’re down a man. And y’know, honey, all the guys got wives and kids and shit, it was easier for me to stay overnight, and get as much done as possible.”

“But Steve’s party!” You huffed. “We were supposed to go tonight. We were supposed to do the Monster Mash!” Eddie’s heart sunk at the misery of your face. Where something as silly dancing may have landed insignificant in the grand scheme of life, you were the first person to cement the fact that with Eddie Munson nothing was trivial. 

You cared for the little things with him. 

Your head dropped with defeat. “Aw, I’m really sorry, sweetheart.” He ventured to meet your eyes. “Look, it’s a little extra money, I’ll take you out on a real nice date-”

“No, it’s not even- ugh, I just spent so much time on the costume.” Granted, it was nothing but ordering overly priced cow printed clothes from various websites, but it really did hurt when the hot glue gun came in contact with your finger, as you strived to glue a mini UFO toy to your headband. “I really wanted to go-”

“Sweetheart, please go.” He encouraged. While not the usual rhetoric, as Eddie Munson always prided himself in being by your side, especially with events such as an infamous Steve Harrington Halloween party, he could put it aside if it meant you’d enjoy your night rather than sulking alone on Halloween.

In retrospect, should you have done so, maybe you still would have been alive today…

“Just promise me you’ll stick by Harrington and Rob, okay?” Despite the slumped shoulders of disappointment, you nodded to his request, and pecked his chin to pacify any guilt he may have been harboring for the turn of events. “Or hell, even Wheeler, saw her bitch out Carver for accidentally knocking over the newspaper stand, and with the look on his face, I trust her to do more harm than Stevie and his Farrah Fawcett hairspray.”

“I’m gonna look stupid just being an abducted cow.” You huffed, as you examined your DIY alien spacecraft headband, puffing out a giggle at the extensive amount of hot glue it took to secure the toy to the hair piece.

And Eddie Munson was right there to laugh along with you. “Believe me, baby, with what I had planned, you would’ve looked more stupid with me.” With a pout still distinguishable through your pitiful giggles, Eddie gently kissed your forehead, careful to not smudge the black spots that adorably littered your face. “I’ll try to finish up as fast as I can, and make it before the cops turn up, okay?”

“You sure you won’t be too exhausted?”

“To do the Monster Mash with you?” Eddie scoffed. “Hell no!” And he smiled, as your chest erupted in a bubble of laughter. “Might smell a little like grease, but so be it. Hell, I’ll even stop by the trailer, and come as an alien mechanic. Probe you with my wrench if you’ll let me.” 

Eddie flicked out his tongue, and you squealed, as he attempted to smother you in his perverted ways. “Get off of me, you freak!”

“Alright, alright.” He calmed you through your fit of chuckles. “How ‘bout,” he quickly kicked closed the door of your bedroom, “you show that little number you’re wearing tonight, so I can know what’s waiting for me? Little motivation, if you will.” He winked. 

“Ugh, my dad really does hate you, y’know?” Your arms instinctively caught around his neck, as his veiny hands gravitated to your ass. 

Eddie derided. “Ha, just ‘cause I love eating my raw, juicy steak.”

“Ew, you perv!” Your laughter was concealed by the capturing of his lips.

By the grace of your closed bedroom door, your parents were spared from the spank of Eddie’s hand against the meat of your ass that rippled with a stinging clash.

Eddie moaned. “You love it. You so fucking love it.”

You did. You so fucking did.

-

In the lonesome of the darkness, Eddie smiled to himself. The heat of his phone radiated against his skin, warming his cheek, as your squeals brought a joy to him like no other. “Oh, my god! You guys look so cute!” Even through the static of distance that blurred with the background of house music, your voice still lit a desire in him that could never be extinguished. “You’re- Eddie, they’re so cute!” Sandwiched between your shoulder and head, you played around with Robin’s tie, as she—among Nancy and Chrissy—geeked at the enthusiasm of your compliments. 

Despite his absence, your refusal to his exclusion left you detailing the present moments of Steve Harrington’s party over a call that surely overheated the phone. And what Eddie figured was the greeting of your friends may have left you a bit distracted from him, your distant conversation was enough to have him chuckling to himself, relishing in the moment that made it feel as though he was actually there.

“Ah, you even added the tattoos on your hand!” You screeched. “Oh, and your hair-” You moved onto Chrissy.

“It’s a wig! I couldn’t commit, ugh!” She clarified with a drunken slur that confirmed the group was well acclimated to the party, before you had arrived. 

“Eddie! Eds!” 

Eddie huffed a laugh through his nose. “Yeah, baby, I’m here.”

“Chrissy’s Phoebe! A-And Nance is Lucy! And, of course, Robin is Julien!” You shouted over the thrum of the music. “And they’re all wearing their matching suits! Boygenius! You remember? T-The songs I showed you?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I remember, sweetheart.” Eddie smiled, a wish so vastly that he could experience your face of pure zeal. “Take pictures, baby, I wanna see it all.”

“Aye, where’s your other half?” Breaking through the static, that frat voice was far too familiar for Eddie to ignore.

“Oh, baby, please tell me if Stevie’s wearing something stupid!” He begged. If it wasn’t for the things Eddie Munson could hold over Steve Harrington’s head, their friendship would’ve succumbed to the awkward tension that came from being polar opposites in the hierarchy of high school. Call it karma for all the comments from The King’s friends that irritated The Freak’s life. But it was the teasing that allowed their “hatred” to manifest nicely. A genuine development into frenemies. And given that Halloween of last year was spent with Eddie Munson berating Steve Harrington on his “lazy” choice of a costume—nothing but pants with tiny, red flags held within his waistband; i.e., a walking red flag, i.e., Steve Harrington’s excuse to walk around shirtless—The Hair, himself, vowed to come up with something more… creative.

Your laugh vibrated through the speaker. “Oh, Steve, what are you wearing?” Your hand clasped over the shock of your gaping mouth. 

Eddie practically lunged through the phone. “What?! What is it?!”

“Your boyfriend isn’t the only one who can rock a vest.” Steve’s cockiness garbled through the heavy gulp he downed of whatever tainted his red solo cup. And with the vest, accompanied the tightest jorts you’d ever witness. Something old, like the Levi’s of his sophomore year, found in the ensemble of polos and sweaters of his closet that he could commit to destroying. And that he did, with the kitchen scissors of his mother, those pants turned into shorts, that then paired with knee pads and boots. “I’m Steve!” He spat into the mic of your phone, after drunkenly stealing it from your hands. “‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin!” That Farrah Facett hair spray wasted to good use to slick back his mane.  

Leave it to Steve Harrington to find a more creative way to be shirtless on Halloween night. 

Despite now being pressed against the warmth of Steve’s ear, you could hear the guttural laughter of your boyfriend echo through. “Steve, give me my boyfriend!” You whined. 

But your pleas went unheard. “Oh, man, I told you I was going all in!” These were the guys that claimed to hate each other? Yeah, right. “Nah, the girls are lovin’ it! Got the abs out n’ everything! All I gotta do is ask ‘em to wrestle, and they’re gigglin’ their shit off! I’m so getting laid!”

“Give me my phone back!” Your efforts fell unaccomplished, though. 

“And where’re you at, man? I’ve got people asking for your supply! Thought you were comin’.” You rolled your eyes at the lost cause repossessing your phone became. 

But you allowed your boyfriend to be virtually stolen, as the entourage of lesbians had plans to whisk you away to get something in your system for the night. Though, without his presence for reassurance, you were conscious of what you could manage, and kept it light enough for your body to buzz with relaxation. Eventually, your strength was able to pry away your phone from the sweaty hands of Steve Harrington, but not before his booze breath pervaded you with the stern information that he was in charge of you for the night, as per request of Eddie Munson. But, with pupils dilated like his, distractions being as easy as beautiful ladies walking by, and the atrocity of his outfit that left no room for seriousness (or the imagination, for that matter), Nancy Wheeler threw you the responsible look of understanding that she’d cover that shift. 

By the dead of night, you’d succumb to the rhythm of the music, and let your body fall to the beats that vibrated your soul with liberation. With bodies decorated in costumes swaying against you from every direction, you never minded the tease of a hand brushing your skin. Packed like sardines in the humidity of an October party, accidents were bound to occur. 

But accidents don’t repeat.

And when fingers started squeezing, your head whipped around, only to catch what was a glimpse of a masked man slipping away. Through the beer goggles you harbored, you blinked at what looked far too familiar for your liking, but between dancing silhouettes and blinding strobe lights, your drunken mind couldn’t confirm what you didn’t want to know.

“Hey, you alright?” Robin’s breath fanned against your cheek, as she pulled your attention from the blank directions you were staring into.

You dryly swallowed. “Um, yeah…” Spoken far too unconvincing for your friend. “Just, uh, Steve wouldn’t let, like, um, underclassmen in, right?” 

“What, no, why?” She invited. “Shit, don’t tell me Dustin and the little rugrats are here!” Her sporadic eyes started bouncing from corner to corner. 

“No, no.” You brushed off her concerns, before they amplified to the degree of telling Nancy Wheeler. “Just thought I saw another freshman or sophomore, like, one of the Stafford twins.”

At the mention of the name, her eyes rolled on cue. “Those little shits? Yeah, wouldn’t put it past them to try to crash.”

Robin Buckley hadn’t known just how relieving those words were to you. With a solidified threat entailing your boyfriend, you could control the tiresome plague of teenage boys. But a pit in your stomach lingered where you didn’t like, as you briefly looked over your shoulder, but nothing but blended bodies blurred your vision in a haze. You took a deep breath, swiping the sweat that beaded along your hairline.

Clinging to her tie, you pulled Robin close to tell her of your departure for another drink. While allowing you to do so, her instructions of “not too much” trailed behind, landing on defiant ears. Your thrown thumbs-up was a lie, as more booze was felt necessary to rid that precedent feeling that still stiffened your hairs in apprehension. Because the what if's were beginning to outweigh the most likely occurrence; that it was someone dangerous stalking you, not one of the Staffords or their peers.

Navigating passed figures, your heels clicked against the kitchen tiles of the Harrington household, where sparse bodies littered about; a pause to the intensity of the late Halloween hour. 9:57 P.M, blinding you against the photo of your boyfriend, as your eyes blinked to adjust to the harshness of your phone screen. 

Holding up ok baby

Awaiting you for the past seventeen minutes, you clicked his message, and scrambled to respond, before any concerns were drawn from your stagnation. 

Yup, yup! Pretty packed, so I’ma getting a drink.

Your buzzing, inebriated mind conjured back. And within the pause of a couple seconds, the bubbles of his response appeared. You frowned. The image of Eddie bored out of his mind, surrounded by the cold metal of the mechanic shop, with nothing but fumes and grease tormenting his body had pestered your mind with guilt. 

Are you okay? 

Bored?

Would you bea ble to come? Now!

Leave it to your intoxication to interrupt his pending bubble. Though, there was never a care on his end. A smile always invaded his face when you were on the other line.

I’m ok sweetheart 

Not too much to drink ok

Not yet baby got some cars still needing a fix but I’ll try to make it as soon as possible

I love you

Your shoulders slumped with the huff that exasperated from you. You shoved your way past the drunks that habited the cooler, as you pried a beer bottle from the ice. Too annoyed to deal with the water droplets that froze your hand against the glass, you settled on plucking a cup from the stack.

 😡

I love you, TOO!

With a groan of all your strength, you popped the cap against the counter, letting the metal clink against the floor. You watched with blank eyes, as the amber liquid aggressively swished within the plastic, hearing the echo of your breath pounding against your ear. But, in the matter of a second, the hairs of your neck shot with heightened alarm, your heart following soon after with a beat anxiously faster than before. 

You stood frozen, your eyes darting, but ultimately losing to the depth of blackness surrounding you. Nothing. It had to be nothing. 

Until the air from your nose fell motionless, and your chest became inert. 

The breathing… continued. It was never yours to begin with. 

You swallowed thickly, before whipping behind you, flinching back at the staunch build of the man in black. In an eerie contrast, his blindingly white mask scrutinizes your wavering frame. 

Your mouth fell open to his arm that shamelessly came around your waist, and suddenly your hands were shoving against the density of his chest to pry him off. “You pig!” The words involuntarily flew from your mouth to spite him. In retrospect, seeing the broadness of his shoulders run along the towering height of his stature should have been enough confirmation that what you were dealing with was far beyond the likes of a juvenile teenager, but with a drunken mind fueled with vexation, you lost the necessity to see clearly. “Touch me again, and I’ll have you thrown out, asshole!” You spat back.

In an attempt to put an end to all of this, your hand gravitated towards his mask, hoping to peel off the confidence that cloaked his cowardness. But as your fingertips grazed the plastic, his gloved hands snatched a harsh hold of your wrist, forcing a gasp to be caught within your throat, as you flinched back. 

Nothing but the black eyes of his mask pierced your soul, as he stood silent, his hand flexing cruelly against your skin. 

Your chest heaved with the rapid beat of your heart, as it took all your strength to release yourself from his restraints. You quickly grabbed your drink and phone, not wasting a second to run away from the man, who did nothing but watch you run off in the blur of the crowd. 

Much to his dismay, it was you dragging Steve Harrington away from the pretty lady that was giggling her way into his bedroom later tonight. “W…What the h-hell?” He hiccupped. 

“Can you kick that person out?!” Your urgency came with your aggressive finger pointing towards his kitchen. “God, they’re being creepy and weird, a-and they were, uh, they were touching me-”

“Okay, okay, just take a breath.” Steve calmed you through your inebriated panic. “What guy? What person?”

Because when Steve Harrington followed the trail of your finger, it all led to the emptiness of his kitchen. Nothing but the casual partygoers, who did nothing but huddle in the corner, nursing their drinks. “Him… uh, h-” You squinted the hazy booze from your vision, but no matter how harsh the blinks were, he was gone. “H-He was just there. The, um, the Scream mask guy, y’know? Him?!”

“I- Y/N,” he really tried to give you the grace of understanding, but with liquor coursing through his body, and the clash of your consternation with the thudding of the booming music, Steve Harrington could hardly process the events unfolding before him, “the Scream mask guy?”

“Yes!” You forced out with frustration. 

Steve blinked. “There’s, like, fifteen people wearing Scream masks, Y/N.” Your eyes fluttered to your surroundings, hitting every corner of the Harrington residence, where Halloween truly brought out the most lethargic efforts of a costume: Scream masks. Steve watched your face fall in defeat, as his hand ran over his face in guilt. “Hey, look, just stick with us, okay? No more walking on your own. If they come back, you get me, o-or Nance, Robin, okay? Anyone.”

Steve’s eyes didn’t let up, until your head slowly nodded to his words. 

“And tell Eddie, before he fucking kills me.” Steve sighed, fanning his breath out. While you could appreciate his concern, you weren’t so keen on the babysitting nature of Steve Harrington’s efforts that he just couldn’t resist, as he guided you to the corner of the couch, and told you to stay put.

Effortlessly, Steve was able to maneuver his way back into the ropes of his rendezvous, all while a pout brandished your face, as you watched the rest of your friends unreservedly lose themselves to the night. 

Your thumb hovered over Eddie’s contact. 

Surely, the news would be broken to him, regardless, yet the dread of doing so still came with some hesitation, as you knew your boyfriend would be fuming in the lonesome of a garage, forcibly unable to focus on the work at hand, as he worried about you. And with the distance at play, it’d anger him beyond recognition, and despite not being his faults, he’d take it as so; not being there when needed, that is. 

Please don’t ger all weird and mad…!

You’d imagine that incoming pang of your message alarmed him, given how quickly those bubbles were to appear. His messages hurdling even faster. 

What the hell happened

Are you ok

weird? What weird? I don’t get weird

HELLO? 

Baby you have 5 seconds to respond

Your thumbs twiddled quickly to appease his inevitable worrisomeness. 

Someones being creepy at Steve's. 

Like, bothering me and trying to touch.

Me

And it’s really pissing me off. I had to tell them off just so they could back off. I’m sitting on Steve’s couch now.

And you could read his impending responses from a mile away. Because when it came to you, it was inescapable. 

I’ll be there

And that’s all it took for you to lurch forward in your seat, and risk the opportunity of catching a cramp in your hands, as your fingers took a tight clutch to your brightening phone screen. If it wasn’t for the music, nothing but the clacking of the digital keyboard would have infested your ears. 

No! 

No, Eddie, really, it’s okay!

I already got it handled. I told Steve, and he said he’d kick them out if they tried it again. I’m okay, really.

Don’t leave, Boomer will be angry with you. I don’t wan you to get in trouble because of me :(

Christ, you had just wanted to Monster Mash. But with hot bodies having no regard for your space, as harassment entailed you throughout night, and now the potential of a heavy admonishment waiting for Eddie from Boomer should he leave, nothing but a disappointed scowl danced across your face. And while you could appreciate the kindness of your boyfriend’s heart- really, you could, you could also find frustration in your boyfriend’s lack of awareness for consequences. Because, yes, it was unfathomably sweet when Eddie rushed to your side, when you simply texted him about the pains of your period. Though, what followed was an angry boss, who chastised Eddie for leaving in the middle of his job, only to punish him with a closing shift on your anniversary date.

Not fun. 

And with Cedars Evergreen Farm opening itself from the daily pumpkin patch to a nightly movie drive-in, Eddie had promised you an intimate date in the back space of his van, and you’d be damned if you lost your date night to the consequences of his actions. Eddie Munson had to stay.

The bubbles appeared. 

Stay with Nancy.

A period. Eddie Munson never punctuated. In fact, run-on sentences were his specialty. 

I mean it Y/N.

But, at the very least, you could relax—somewhat—with the knowledge that his profession and your date weren’t compromised on the night of Halloween. Your fingers typed away.

I won’t! Swears! <333333

I love you so much!!!

Ransacking through tubes of lip gloss and a tin of Altoids, your compact was pulled from the clutter of your purse, before it flipped to showcase your tipsy reflection. Aside from the minimal perspiration that smudged the edges of the patterned spots, you looked the cutest you could despite the night you endured, and some handsy delinquent with no manners wasn’t going to ruin that for you. 

Call me if something happens I’ll be there eventually stay safe and kick his ass if he does something else

Just kill him baby. 

Honestly.

I will eventually so what does it matter if you get to him first :)

As he always managed to do, even when not present, you giggled at the vulgarity of his words. With the tip of your finger, you cleaned up the imperfect smears of your makeup, before smacking your lips together with a lather of your seductive plum gloss. With a zhuzh of your hair here and there, you stood from your miserable place on the couch, choosing to ignore the chastising gasp from Steve Harrington, as you made your way to the girls. 

The audacious woman she was, Nancy Wheeler had wasted no time securing her hand around your wrist. “Hey, is everything alright?” Her voice amplified over the music. “Steve told me what happened.”

Though her stern eye was cold, you eased her worries with a flail of your hand, throwing something along the lines of “Eddie knows,” because if Eddie Munson knows, it’s taken care of.

Shoving the bothersomes of the night to the back of your mind, you graced the buzzing music with a warm welcome, as your body danced with the likes of Boygenius, and their carefree moves that came about with a burning cup of booze.

If Eddie Munson couldn’t be there to experience the thrills of Halloween—perhaps, being punished by running off kids who attempted to vandalize the garage; true karma—then, at the very least, you could retell the events with the blur of photos that claimed your photo album for the night. 

-

As the hours passed, your vision succumbed to the haze of alcohol that electrified your body. Strobe colors blended with the movement of strangers’ figures, and time seemed to slow, leaving you vulnerable to the predators that preyed upon you.

You saw him. Or maybe him. Every turn of your head, your eyes gazed upon the white mask that haunted your vision. In every corner. In every direction. But the liquor on your lips left your mouth numb and impuissant to the party your body craved, entrapping you in a defenseless state against his terror. 

You watched from outside of your body, as your limbs betrayed you to the laxness of your inhibitions. 

And through the darkness of your surroundings, you watched that taunting face creep closer and closer with every dragging blink of your eyes.

Robin Buckley twisted to the heavy hand on her shoulder.

Your pupils were blown out. “I-I need to use the bathroom.” Your tongue lapped at the dryness of your lips that cracked under your heavy breathing. 

“Okay, I’ll go with you.” She shouted over the music, but your head insisted otherwise with drunken fervency. 

“I’m j-just” hiccup “gonna call Eddie.” You steadied yourself on wobbly ankles. “Had too much to drink, I-I’ll call him to pick,” hiccup “pick me up.” To hell with Boomer.

Robin’s warm thumbs swept under the smudged eyeliner that rimmed your eyes, with sparkles that once was packed onto your lid now dancing along the highlights of your cheek. She regulated you with a small smile. “Don’t wait alone, okay? Come back here when you’re done.”

You nodded slowly to appease your gnawing headache. 

One step at a time, your surroundings seemed to slow, as your vision tunneled to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Feeling like a mile away, your fingernails grazed the smooth surface of the floral wallpaper that clung to the Harrington abode to anchor you for the trek, as drunk bodies alike shoulder checked you with no regard. 

When you felt the clank of your heels against the linoleum, your breath released with all tension, as the door slammed behind you shut, and you relished in the warped quietness the secluded bathroom was able to proffer you.

Flicking the light switch on had your head pounding and eyes harshly binding closed. 

The toilet creaked under the weight of your slumped body, as you blinked your vision straight to find an array of messages awaiting you. 

Feeling okay baby? I’m lonely without you sweetheart these cars are boring me half to death need to see you soon or I’ll die

Finishing up soon, you doing alright baby

Heading out sweetheart

I’ll be there in a couple minutes

You sighed in relief, fumbling to click his contact, and letting the ringing line massage your head. “Hey, princess.”

The static of his grumbly voice pacified your racing heart from an alcoholic adrenaline rush. “Eds.” You exhaled in peace. 

“Y/N.” You could make out the smile that lingered on his lips, as his tongue spoke your name. “Get my message? I’m heading over as soon as I get changed- and don’t get on me just yet, I haven’t started driving, so I’m not putting myself in danger.” He laughed. You always were quite serious with that ‘One Text or Call Could Wreck it All’ motto- well, at least, with Eddie Munson you were. He didn’t have an extensive relationship with the Hawkins PD for no reason.  

“No!” You whined into the call, lips pouting to their fullest extent. 

“No?”

Composing yourself, you settled into a deep breath. “Don’t change. J-Just come get me.” Your voice managed to mumble a response. 

“What’s the matter? Something happen? Are you okay?” His voice swore into your ear, the vigilance of it so prudent with protectiveness. 

Your hot palm smashed against your cheek in exhaustion. “Just drank too much. Got caught up, and now I’m too- I don’t wanna be here without you. Wanna go home.” Your slurred words bleated. The staticness of his sigh rang out in a heavy breath, and you knew an upbraid was to be waiting for you the next morning, after he kissed you okay with Tylenol and a hearty breakfast. Eddie Munson always did have a knack for setting you up for the keelhaul that disguised itself in affection. Really, the only time the adult man showed responsibility. “No mean words.” You fussed. “Not now, at least.”

“No mean words, baby.” Eddie soothed. “Okay, just give me a few minutes, alright? I’m leavin’ as we speak. Harrington’s house is not too far, should be around Mirkwood in five.” You nodded, despite the on call conversation. “You hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah, Eds, five minutes.” You ignored the dull ache of your toes, as you conquered standing on straight feet. “Thank you, baby.”

A chuckle huffed through his nose. “No need, sweetheart, just no more drinking, okay? No goodbye shot with Robin or Stone Cold.”

You absentmindedly giggled at the image of Steve Harrington. “Okay.” You sighed. “No shots with Stone Cold.”

“Atta girl.” He smiled. “Alright, just hang tight for me, shouldn’t be long.”

“I love you.” Your breath dragged on.

“I love you way more, so you lose.” Eddie could vividly picture the pout that etched itself onto your mouth. 

And it was his laughter that you last heard, as your jutted lips grumbled a “meanie,” before hanging up, because in your drunken stupor, that competition felt like a real loss. 

Turning to the mirror, you flinched at the state of your look. Luckily, Steve Harrington had no plans of having a lights-on party. Rummaging through his family’s unmentionables, you pummeled a fistful of cotton swabs onto the counter, drenching each end with the sink’s faucet of water. 

A bit of coldness brought some release to your hot face, as you followed the edges of the painted black spots that smudged with the perspiration of your skin. But in a blink of a second, the bathroom door rattled with a single bang. 

Your face twisted in confusion, your body stopping as you waited.

But silence was all that met you, and you blinked your eyes close to think straight. 

Steve Harrington’s house was packed with fifty plus strangers and acquaintances, all who whooped and hollered with an all you can drink display. It wasn’t irrational for a drunken body to collide against a door or wall in an attempt to seek a bedroom.

You sighed, continuing your task of trying to look slightly presentable. But Steve Harrington’s bathroom door didn’t hold up to another aggressive knock that left its hinges vibrating with the harsh hit. 

You swallowed thickly, aiming to ignore the hairs that stood across your body.

“S-Someone’s in here.” But a suffocating atmosphere of pure quietude was all that came in response.

Goosebumps terrorized your skin, as your chest heaved with the heavy seconds it took to wait for something- anything to occur. You quickly discarded the stained cotton swabs, before slowly approaching the door. 

Your trembling hand gently caressed the brass of the golden door knob, and with a swift swing…

Nobody.

To the right of the hall, the blackness led to the shed of light, where all party goers gathered in the setting of the living room. Your shoulders slumped with relief. 

And to the left-

Your heart plummeted. Heavy breathing echoed from his mask, as his built towered over your stature. The grotesque intimidation shot your eyes sober, as your stomach heaved with the terrifying sensation that consumed you. 

Pathetic whimpers poured from your mouth, as you took caution steps back, only for him to follow with each movement. 

Screw waiting. 

The epinephrine from his bone-chilling presence detoxed your body dispassionately, as your legs found the momentum to run away into the crowd. 

Yet, as you looked back, he all but laid back and watched, as he stood in place, taunting you with no effort. Almost getting off on how easily you scared.

But you weren’t going to be a part of his game anymore. Halloween was over as of 12:14 A.M. You were going home.

Shoving past interlopers, you scoured your way to the less densely populated area of the back patio. Stragglers were all that occupied the darkened backyard, lingering on outdoor loungers, surely tainting Mrs. Harrington’s cushions with cigarette smoke and beer stains alike. 

“Hey! Where’s your boy toy tonight? Been wanting to buy!” You barely acknowledged the slurred voice of a prospective customer, as your attention became engrossed with watching the dancing bodies through the glass door. 

For a mask. 

You barely spared him. “Not here.”

But not a flash of white in sight. 

The grumble of his buddies reverberated, as maybe for once, you’d be left alone for the night. 

“Well, then, can I get something from you?” The crudeness of his smirk was palpable without you needing to turn around. The whistling of his friends only fueled the anger more. “How ‘bout just a handy for double of what your boyfriend offers for a half ounce?”

You rolled your eyes. Yeah, screw waiting. “Fuck off.” 

Taking the graveled path by the gardens to reach the sidewalk, you shook off the residing anger of perverted boys and creepy stalkers, and sucked in the chilled air that the night brought forth.  

“Ugh, stupid people, stupid party,” and as the universe would have it, your ankle bent against the icing on the cake—a pebble, “ah, and these stupid fucking shoes!” You exasperated with a juvenile stomp to your foot. 

Luckily, the Harrington manor had the luxury of wooded solitude, where bystanders lacked, giving you the freedom of unleashing your annoyances with grumbles that would have had late night joggers crossing the street to avoid your strangeness. 

“This party sucks.” Your mouth groused, fingers typing fervently. “Couldn’t stand to wait, I had to leave.” The owl hooted, and crickets chirped. Nothing but the point of your heel scraping against the concrete sidewalk to accompany the midnight songs. “How far are you? I’m walking, you’ll probably see me.”

This party sucks! 😠

Couldn’t stand to wait, I HAD to leave!

How far are you?

I’m walking, you’ll probably see me.

In the year and some months change spent as Eddie Munson’s special lady friend—as he loved to say—you’d never once had to grapple with the nonchalant facade boys your age seemed infected with. No, your Eddie was never one to shy away from fast texting, hell, even double- no triple- no quadruple texting. He liked you, very much so, of course, he was going to show it. Even if it came in his uniquely Eddie ways. How the hell was waiting four hours to respond under the guise of being “busy” supposed to turn you on?! Eddie Munson had one goal, and it was to make you his girlfriend. To hell with slow texters! 

And yet… the bubbles never appeared. 

But with how clouded your mind had become with the turn of events the night took, you carped to yourself, clicking your phone off with an agitated slam of your finger, and continued your trek with hunched shoulders and a down spirit. 

Crushing leaves and kicking rocks was all you could succumb to in the face of boredom, as the hope of hearing that god awful exhaust with its metal music to pair driving down the street only grew stronger with every ache of your toes. 

“Of course, of course! All this would happen to me.” Contrary, conversing with yourself seemed to be the only semblance of sanity for you at the moment. “Should’ve just gone trick-or-treating. Should’ve just staked out with my dad.” Ah, yes, who was still, in fact, located behind your mother’s shrubbery, cocking his head at every giggle a passing teenager made. “Ugh, stupid boys!” The bane of your existence. You stomped with anger, “Hate everything,” you huffed. “Hate these shoes,” oh, how you would apologize to them when the time was right, “hate these clothes, hate my life-”

You slowed your steps. Confused.

The ribbit of a frog leaping from lily pad to lily pad was all too familiar with the great puddles that dampened the forest environment. The pine trees, too, did their usual of entangling their branches in hugs with one another, as the midnight draft brought them closer. 

Normal. Everything was sounded normal… except… the whistling. 

No, not the rustle of wind, or the buzz of cicadas, but the sinister taunt of his hunt.

Your head whipped behind you, where your eyes rounded at his silhouette that drowned under the single flickering street lamp. 

Whistling. Preying. 

Your legs started without a moment’s notice. Though, your platforms only allowed for such limited speed, as you hastily dialed Eddie’s contact. Every impending ring sank your heart deeper and deeper, as the pit of your stomach felt as though it was going to collapse in on itself. His whistling only a few feet away. “Hey, it’s Eddie-”

“Eddie?!”

“Or is it? Ha! No, it’s totally Eddie. I’m busy ignoring your calls, so leave a message or finally take a hint.” 

“Ugh!” Frustration hung up the phone, as you no longer found the charm in his childish voicemail greeting. “God, just pick up.” Your steps quickened to a slow jog. “Pick up, pick up.”

The ringing had simply become torment to you now. “Hey, it’s Eddie… Or is i-”

You whined in exasperated disbelief. 

“Fuck.” The whispers of your dread passed through your lips, as a stolen glance back only confirmed the proximity of which he managed with ease. Two jogs forward was a simple step for him.

Your chest heaved under the mounting pressure and the fear that tore your stomach to shreds. Your legs felt numb against the terror, and suddenly, your eyes were clamping shut with wishful thinking that all of this was just an unbearable nightmare, because through your quickening breaths, the heavy steps of his boots sounded closer… and closer…

-

Nothing but a flood of trees swallowed your surroundings, as his taut grasp of your body forced you into the dark abyss of a desolate forest.

Your throat ached at the screams that ultimately surrendered to a deadened buzz against his hand, as nothing but the crunch of leaves that snapped under his weight was all that could be heard in a miles radius. 

With an elbow to his ribs and a kick to his shin, you gave it all your might to escape from his clutches, but your efforts never came to fruition, as the skin of your body became pinned to the scraping bark of a tree. 

His heavy breathing rang against his mask, as his face taunted yours, watching the tears stream down your cheeks, as snot congested your wails. “Aw, don’t cry, my little… heifer.”

Slowly, your nails relented from his arm, and your eyes turned to bore into the black ones that adorned his mask. “Eds…?” His loosening fingers around your mouth allowed your whisper to speak. In a moment of clarity, his smell became all too dear of cigarettes and cedar spice. Your Eddie. “W-Wha… Eddie, wait, what’s g-”

Though, as your body began to fall slack under the ease of his familiarity, his sinister laugh only mocked your moment of vulnerability, as he exploited your weakness to have his heavy body pressed against your backside.  

“Oh, what a sweet body to slaughter.” The depth of his voice had your heart now beating with something more than fright. “You wanna make it to the sequel, baby?”

Because suddenly, the night of September 4th came to memory. 

Nana Munson’s—may her soul rest in misery (an avid believer of corporal punishment against a rowdy seven-year-old Eddie Munson)—couch had fallen to the impressions of both yours and Eddie’s body, as the Saturday evening brought laziness against your energy. Secured between his legs with your back falling lax against his chest, your eyes lulled to the scratches Eddie provided to your underboob against the imprints of your now discarded bra.

But the cries of Tatum Riley, as she capitulated to her death by garage door, had blinked your eyes awake. “Think it was Stu?” Your face scrunched under the sudden loudness of his voice. Much to his credit, though, Eddie hadn’t been aware of your drowsiness. 

“Huh?”

“Y’think Stu killed Tatum?” He reiterated. 

Your brows furrowed. “No way, that was his girlfriend.”

His chuckle reverberated from his chest. “Clearly, that didn’t mean shit.” Spoken truthfully, as her lifeless body dangled above. “But surely he had to be the one takin’ the reins on that one, he set her up.”

“Set it up, sure. But killing her? Nuh-uh.” Eddie laughed at your definitive state. “He had the whole party to host, someone would’ve noticed him missing. Plus, no one was expecting Billy to even be there, giving him the most perfect opportunity to do it.” You disseminated factually.

“Okay, okay, so wait.” Eddie cleared his throat. “You’re saying Billy snuck inside the house, then back outside, and just went all the way around like that, hiding the costume n’ all, to kill her? Someone totally would’ve seen him.”

With a debate at hand, you attempted to sit up, but his greedy hands held you back, wanting to continue to seek solace in the body heat your boobs generated. “Okay, it’s odd-”

“Really odd.”

“But, Billy’s calculated, y’know.” You retaliated. “If either of them are going to pull it off, it’s going to be Billy. You know how, like, clumsy Stu is. He couldn’t have done it.”

Eddie dramatically brushed you off with a pestering psh. “You’re just sayin’ all that, ‘cause you like Matthew Lillard.”

“Please, everyone knows Billy killed Tatum.” You laughed. “This has nothing to do with Matthew Lillard being hot- ow!”

His nimble fingers squeezed at your pebbling nipples, as he menacingly chuckled in your ear. “Swear, I’ll put on that fucking mask and have my way with you if I hear you call another dude hot.” But oh, how that thought, itself, was already having its way with you. Wriggling in his embrace, your actions did not go unnoticed by your boyfriend, as he eyed the rub of your thighs. “Oh, you like that!” He smirked.

“What?” You squeaked, fighting through the endeavor of avoiding the eyes that tried so hard to look into yours. “No, I don’t. Y-You freak.” But the heat of your face was palpable, and Eddie reveled in the bashful embarrassment that he could elicit within you.

“Oh, you so do, baby.” He sneered in your face, the silver of his rings stimulating goosebumps on the canvas of your skin, as his hands cupped your fullness. “Hm, want me to fuck you with that mask?”

You whined at his words. “Eddie.” 

“That’s honestly hot as fuck, y’know?” His voice dripped with arousal, as his hands roamed your belly. “Letting me fuck you to spare you, fuck, throw in that knife you like. Begging for you life, shit.”

And with that hand of his sneaking between your legs, who were you to remember a one-off conversation from over a month ago?

The trunk of the tree bit at your cheek, as he forcefully affixed your body to the rough surface. Cold metal clashed against your thigh, and suddenly the scrape of a blade was shooting chills through your body; his pocket knife. “Ugh,” his groans intensified, as his hand got lost under the ruffle of your skirt, letting your clothed cunt be teased by the sharp edge, “the things I could do to you. And not a single soul would hear. Not your screams. Not your cries. Just completely at my mercy.”

You gasped at the unforeseen slice that ripped your panties in two, forcing the ruined lace to be soiled in the ground below you; the night’s draft now blowing against the flooding wetness of your exposed folds. “Please.” His laughs were all that met your pleas. “D-Don’t hurt me.”

Oh, what a fantasy come true. 

Your teeth pierced into your swollen lip, as the flat edge of Eddie’s knife abruptly pressed into your clit, its coldness sending shockwaves to the hot bundle of nerves that had your hips driving back onto his pulsating bulge. 

“Don’t hurt you?” He mocked. “Oh, but how fun would it be if I did. Huh, my little calf?” The fear that stirred in your belly was only able to ease for a second, as his sharp blade finally left your core, but only to trace the skin of your naval. “To bruise your skin, break your morale, violate your body- ugh, this pretty, little body.” His knife severed your tiny shirt in two, expelling your breasts. Eddie’s gloved hand then bunched your skirt at the hip, letting the cool zephyr nip at your naked body. “God, look at that.” His harsh hand groped your ass, pulling your cheeks from one another to see the glistening of your pussy under the moonlight. “And I can just do anything with it, huh?”

“I’ll do a-anything, I-I- just please, I’ll let you do anything, just let me go-”

“Oh, no, baby, look at you.” Eddie’s stature followed down your squirming figure. “You’re never leaving me.” Before you could get a word in, his strength brought you to your knees, your skin digging into the dirt and discarded panties of the ground. In a flash, his knife pressed to your tensing neck, as his mask stared you down from his height. “You better fucking show me how much you think your life is worth.”

Your manicured hand wasted no time to undo the metal clasp of his belt, as Eddie sighed at the relief his throbbing cock felt from the confined restraints of his jeans. Precum drenched his boxers wet, and behind that mask, your boyfriend smiled at the delicate kisses you offered to his body, despite the debauched scene at hand. 

His cock sprung with an angry tip targeting your face, and your graceful fingers found themselves scratching at the unruly curls of his pubs, before wrapping around his girth to pull back to the sticky skin of his cock. 

“Mm!” You moaned, as you tongued at his head, collecting the budding seed that oozed from his hole. 

His hands didn’t hesitate to grapple onto your scalp, bringing you forth with dramatic moans, as his pocket knife rested against the plumpness of your cheek. “Ooh, fuck, yes.” His teeth clenched tightly. “Shove it down your fucking throat like your life depends on it.”

Your tongue salivated along the underside of his dick, as your lips latched onto his length, constraining you to take all you could of him. Drool pooled at the corners of your mouth, coating him in your spit that allowed your slick hands to jerk him with burning friction. His hips couldn’t help but drive forward, and he selfishly ignored the chokes that restricted your throat taunt, merely giving him something tighter to fuck. 

“God, let me trash that pretty fucking mouth of yours.” His hairs tickled your nose, as a mess of spit and precum slung from his cock to your chin. Hollowing your cheeks had Eddie’s mewls echoing from his mask, as your eyes peered up lovesick at the sight of his bruteness taking all he felt was his.

He tapped your cheek disrespectfully, forcing you off his cock, only for his heavy hand to shove your head lower. “C’mon, you know what to fucking do, you fucking slut. You wanna live? You wanna go back to your boyfriend?” He laughed, playing his part menacingly. “You wanna be able to suck him off with that same fucking mouth you sucked mine with, you better make me fucking feel good, or you’ll be no use dead in the woods.” 

Your mouth locked onto his heavy set balls that shoved itself in your face, and you suckled at the velvet skin, pulling it from his body, and feeding it into your mouth with whines of satisfaction. Your wet muscle tickled his legs numb, with his knees buckling at the massage he forced out of you. 

And inch by inch, your tongue teased the expanse of his taint, until he felt it prod at his pulsating hole, and he forced your face deeper between his thighs, as nothing but his cock and balls swallowed your face. “You dirty fucking whore, ugh!”

Such an intimate spot, his musk invaded your senses with nothing but Eddie, Eddie, Eddie flooding your surroundings. His thick thighs suffocating your face; his leg hairs nipping at your cheeks; his balls smashing against your nose; his cock leaking on your forehead. There was no leaving Eddie Munson. 

He consumed you. 

“Dirty that fucking face, shit, m’gonna make that pretty fucking face filthy!” Eddie rode your face, forcing your tongue to plunge into your tight asshole, as you tried to keep up with his rough movements. “Eat my fucking ass, all your worth doing—shit, shit, fuck, I’m gonna—shove your fucking tongue in there!” 

Your nails clawed at his thighs, branding red streaks to bleed against his pale skin. 

But unexpectedly, you were rammed onto the dirt with a gasp of surprise leaving your mouth, as his barbaric strength manhandled you onto your tummy, blatantly ignoring your struggles.

His heavy weight suppressed your body to your ground, as his merciless hand came around your jaw, squeezing your face. “Smile, baby, big fucking smiles.” Eddie forced your lips to pucker. “Want nothing but smiles outta you while everything is happening. Show me how pretty you are- how happy you are to have me violate you, how much you love this.”

You felt his dense cock poke at the globes of your ass. “You gonna be a good fucktoy, and let me ruin these holes, huh? Not going to make a noise? Not going to tell anyone? Yeah?” You whimpered at the thick head to pried your sticky lips apart, catching your clit, only to glide back to your sopping entrance that clenched with need. “And I’ll let you live, I’ll let this pretty body live. Yeah? Go back to your boyfriend, but you’ll still be mine, no? When you’re leaving his, I’ll take you on the street. In the middle of night, when your clueless parents are asleep. When you just want to live in peace, but I’ll be there to wreck it, because this body’s mine. It’s all mine.” 

His cock intruded your pussy. “Ah! Yes, yes! Make me take it!” Dirt stuck beneath your nails, as you attempted to cling onto the ground. 

“Fuck!” Eddie bleated, as he fell balls deep, flushed to your back. “My fucking play thing.” He punctuated with a rough thrust. “My fucking pussy to use.” 

With seven inches pumping deep, the ridges of his cock rubbed against your sensitive g-spot, as your cunt stroked him of his precum; a ring of your mixing cream flooded at his base to splash his naval dirty. Your arm managed to snake back, pushing the endeavor to slow his hips from the rapid pace he was fucking at, but his hands shut down your futile attempts.

“Nuh-uh!” He masked pressed to your face, your arm now pinned to your ground. “You said make you take it, you’re gonna fucking take it!” Eddie’s guttural voice vibrated against your ear. 

“Y-Yes! Whatever you say! Please!” Your neck ached with the stretch Eddie was forcing to keep your head up. “Use me! Need you to use me!”

The veins of his cock were hammering with desire, as all his blood pumped to his groin to keep it hard until it got the release it was begging for. And he did all to get you there, as your walls were quivering around his length, your cries bleeding through the tight hold his hand kept to your jaw. The woodland creatures of Hawkins, Indiana were perking their ears at the wails of what they could only infer was an innocent critter being preyed upon; not too far from truth. 

Your soft walls kept him warm against the biting chill of the night, and by the way your back was arching to shove your ass deeper into his pelvis could only mean you, too, were selfishly begging to satiate that aching need.

“Mm, fuck! Look at that ass.” He peered to see the fat of your cheeks recoiling against the snap of his hips. “This fucking ass and cunt- such a dirty, little fucking cunt.” His chest peeled from you, as cold wind satisfyingly blew against the sweat that marinated between your hot bodies.

The leather of his gloves stung against your cheek, as his heavy hand came to spank your jiggling roundness, while he moaned at witnessing the length of his cock get lost in the crevice of your ass. Peeling them apart, he eyed your winking hole, and propelled his hips forward, so your neglected asshole could get a tickle of his pubic hair, as he ground himself against you. 

Your skin slapped together so violently in the waking hour of early November. Writhing beneath his body weight, your body could only hold back for so long, before you succumbed to your needs. 

“So fucking sick in the head, y’know that? Such a pretty face with such a sick head.” Eddie’s hand came to constrict your throat, thumbs digging into your pulse points. “You love this, love me abusing you, abusing this filthy fucking pussy—augh, shit, shit!” His cock twitched under the clenching of your cunt that fluttered from his degradation. “I’ll defile it until no one wants you- no one but me! But fucking me!”

He jackhammered in dick mercilessly, until your hole clamped shut around him; your nipples scraping against the dirt with every drill of his hips. “C-Can’t—ahh—take it anymore! Too much! Stop!”

“Mm! You can hate this as much as you want, but your slutty body fucking loves it.” His fingers found themselves on your thudding clit, harshly circling it with the soft material of his gloves. “Cum for me, baby, cum on fucking cock!”

The muscles in your stomach were cramping, as the pressure was mounting against your core. Eddie’s muffled moans were proliferating by the seconds, and his wet balls were seizing against your pussy, nearing the end of self-control. 

“I-I won't tell anybody, just let me cum! Please, please, please! No one, just between you and me!” Your pathetic blabbings had him laughing through the pain of his straining, aching cock.

Without a care for the tiny bugs that swarmed the dirt beneath you, your head dropped with the wails of your orgasm, as your body trembled with the overpowering sensations that wrecked your body lifeless. Your vision fell black, and all that could be heard was Eddie Munson’s fuzzy voice screaming with the release of ropes of cum that flooded your pussy full. 

Unable to kiss you with the barrier of a mask, Eddie did all but purr and meow, as he displayed his affection with clumsy headbutts, as your bodies fell slack in the middle of the woods. 

Slowly, as your vision came to be, and the blur was gone, your peripheral catched Eddie’s head menacingly turn, as he examined your lax state. And that laugh- that sinister laugh pooled your stomach with fear. “I’ll never be done breaking you.” 

Before you could protest, Eddie manipulated your lenient limbs, and knocked you onto your back with your heavy legs falling entrapped in his strong grip. Hoisted in the air, your oozing pussy opened up to him with your thighs pinned to your dirty chest. But you knew your body, sensitivity was buzzing deep within, and you wouldn’t be able to handle anymore.

Your weak hands ventured to slap his head away, but his strength overpowered you, and for the first time tonight, the mask came off. You bawled at the attachment of his full lips eating at your clit. “I’d love to send you back to your boyfriend with my babies stuffing you,” the vibrations rippled inside you, “but he’d know too much.”

Back and forth, his tongue trekked from flicking your bud, splitting you in half, and prodding at your tight asshole, where sticky arousal seeped into. “Augh! S-Sensitive, Eds!”

Eddie merely chuckled into your cunt, breaching it with the point of his tongue to lap all that flooding inside you. The tang of your pussy never tasted so good with his piquant cum, as his mouth ravished your opening, pulling and sucking your folds with the fervent shake of his head. Gluttony was committed with how unforgiving he was with gorging your wetness into his mouth, proceeding back to bully your bundle of nerves, until your body was jerking with trying to flee his inescapable hold.

“Stop! Eddie, I’m gonna- f-fuck, really, Eds, I can’t!” You tried to desperately plead, but if there was anything Eddie Munson loved more than you, it was actually just you completely at his mercy.

Consuming the cum from your pussy, your legs locked and trembled around his head, and instantly, warm liquid was inundating his mouth. Your cries from the aching release of your squirt bled sinfully with his moans from your taste, creating the most depraved music of your intimacy, as your eyes lost the will to focus on anything else, but the glowing moon against the night’s blackness. 

But in the haze of your inebriated mind, your boyfriend had crawled his body over yours, where mouths quickly connected. Only, the opening of his lips invited your squirt to soak onto your tongue. And it stayed there, swapping between your jaws, as both of you made fleeting attempts to consume each other with loving desire, until everything was swallowed from the intensity.

And all that was left was Eddie Munson smiling down at your blissed out face, his chin scintillating under the moon.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He caressed your face. “Would’ve just abducted you, but probing you felt more fun.” He teased at the irreparable damage done on your innocent cow costume.

You breathlessly laughed, refuting his words with an incredulous shake of your head. “Whatever happened to just asking me to take you to my leader?”

Eddie giggled, kissing you okay with delicate pecks that greatly contrasted from the lascivious events he put you through. He had sat up, degloving his hands—now drenched in perspiration from the confining heat—to brush away the specks of dirt that clung to your breasts. “Here, lift up for a second.” His now gentle hands helped guide the torn piece of clothing from your upper body, where the soft fabric now became a clean-up cloth for both your bodies. “I’ll get you new clothes,” Eddie groaned, seeking to squeeze his head from the hoodie that he took off, now proffering to you, “promise, sweets.”

“Help me up, don’t want a worm near my vagina.” He laughed at your whines, hands coming to entangle with yours, as a firm arm around your waist helped leverage you on wobbly legs. 

“Yeah, sorry for the lack of set up.” Eddie swiped the dirt off your bare butt. “Though, don’t think a nicely laid blanket and candles would have really fit the whole horny-violent-serial-killer vibe, y’know?”

“Well, duh. You can’t light candles in the woods, that’s dangerous.” Christ, you really were something to appreciate. “But, no, seriously, that was-” you eyed him excitedly with precious giggles, “that was really good. Like, better than anything I could have fantasized Stu Macher doing.” And felt the consequences of that joke with a sharp pinch to your ass. “Ah! Okay, okay!”

Eddie guffawed in your face, planting a searing kiss onto your hairline. “You’re insufferable, y’know that?” He hugged you tightly. “But you liked it? Not too much- hell, too little, you freak?”

“Nuh-huh, perfect!” You sweetly piqued, until you diverted with a swat to his chest. “But, Christ, Eddie, you really scared me! And lied to me! I thought some lunatic was following me!”

“Oh, come on, when have I ever let you go to some rager alone? A Halloween one, at that?” 

You pouted. “You made me hate Boomer just a little.” A guttural howl bubbled from him, as he went to pick up the discarded mask and pocket knife that was strewn about, your shirt and panties followed, gathered in his other hand. “And I have to throw these away.”

“Throw away?” His brow cocked, evidently in disbelief, as he examined your underwear. “Just because they’re sliced doesn’t mean they can’t be shown any love. Nothing I can’t add to the collection.” He smirked with a wink. 

“Damn it, Eddie, give me back my seamless ones, they’re the only ones I can wear with leggings without getting lines.” You remembered.

And his eyes couldn’t help but teasingly roll back. “Alright, alright, careful with the branches, baby.” Side by side, Eddie guided you through the wooded area, until the quiet sidewalk he once kidnapped you from came in sight under the yellow streetlights.

Though, while you two had your fun of kink exploration, unfortunately, your dear friends were nearly killing themselves over trying to find you three blocks away, plotting operation plans as to what may have occurred. Lying where it was once dropped, you grimaced at the piling text that bombarded you, when you picked your discarded phone.

Hey, I’m okay! Swear it, Eddie picked me up! So sorry! Was too drunk to stay and tell you! 😖

Hopefully, the off brand Lucy Dacus would be lenient enough to spare you for the night. You could face their wrath tomorrow.

“Oof, gotta spend the night with me, before Wheeler kills you.” Eddie’s nosy trait had him reading your messages over your shoulder. 

“It’s your fault! Ugh, you’re actually going to get me murdered!” You groaned, while all he could do was arrogantly smile at his work, until you abruptly stopped with a gasp. “You decided to sexually harass me all night instead of doing the Monster Mash with me?!” Christ, that pointed finger was so accusatory. 

Eddie’s hand flew up in defense. “Sweetheart, I swear I’ll give you all the Monster Mashing until Thanksgiving.”

“Y’know, I think this was all just your way of getting out of dressing up.” Your eyes squinted with the interrogation.

Oh, how you wanted to eat that sly grin away. “And fucking you? Yeah.”

“Ugh, you perv!” Eddie caught your hand before it could swat him, giving him the leverage to torpedo a swarm of open-mouth kisses to your face. “Okay, okay! Truce!” He combed your hair straight, chuckling at your disheveled state. “So, that was really you stalking me?”

“Yup.”

“At the bathroom?”

“Uh-huh.”

“In the kitchen?”

“Totally me, baby.”

“Outside my window?”

“Yea- wait, what?” Eddie flinched back in confusion. 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Earlier today, when you came by. Y’know, watching me from my window?”

Eddie’s steps immediately came to a halt, as his face blended into concern. “Sweetheart, I never stood outside your window.” He declared. “Yeah, I came by, but seriously, your dad had just let me in. Who the fuck was at your window?”

You rejected the conversation, choosing to continue to walk. “Stop, Eddie, don’t scare me. You already have enough.”

“Y/N, I’m serious. I never stood outside your window.” Eddie Munson’s eyes were never one to genuinely lie. 

“M-Maybe it really was just some kid, then.” You rationalized. 

“Alright, look, let’s just really call it a night, and get home.” A protective arm secured you to his body. 

Because perhaps in the night, your drunken mind did notice two figures watching you that were simply chalked up to one. Maybe, the second one was the one watching from the corner, then from behind a tree. Maybe, it was the one that quietly stalked twenty feet behind with a knife that shined too brightly under the moonlight to ever be plastic.

Don’t you know couples who have sex on Halloween night are the first to die?

[beebopboom]

The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter

Yep! That’s right we are diving back into season 1, specifically with the last true witch, Agnes Nutter

This first part is mainly going to deal with what is in her book and is largely just a reference point. This will cover all the prophecies we know about and the images included in her book that I could find

Further analysis and theories will start in part two

-> which you can click here to read if you’d like

But other than that let’s just dive in

Prophecies 

Most of these we know and we see play out but there are a few stragglers- (which I’m not going to go into in this series just for the sole reason my very ill brain cannot handle them right now, maybe in the future)

Prophecy 1111: "An the Great Hound Sharl come and the Two Powers sharl watch in... Goeth where is its Master, Where the... Notte, and he shall name it, True to... and Hell shall flee it."

Prophecy 2214: "In December 1980, an Apple will arise no man can eat. Invest thy money in Master Jobbes's machine, and good fortune will tend thy days."

Prophecy 2213: "I tell ye this, and I charge ye with my wordes. Four shall ride, and three shall ride the sky as two, and one shall ride in flames, and there shall be no stopping them. Not fish, nor rain, neither devil or angel. And ye shall be there also, Anathema."

Prophecy 2315: "Sum say It cometh in London Town, or New Yorke, butte they be Wronge, for the place is Taddes Fild, Stronge inne hys powr, he cometh like a knight innne the fief, he divideth the Worlde into 4 partes, he bringeth the storme.

Prophecy 3001: "Behind the Eagle's Neste, a great Ash hath fallen.

Prophecy 3007: "Prayers and hope ... / Brings forth sorrow and serpents reign / For the devil lucks in plain sight / Under an arc of pale moonlight."

Prophecy 3008: "When that the angel readeth these words of mine, in his shoppe of other menne's books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open thine eyes to understand. Open thine eyes and rede, I do say, foolish principalitee, for thy cocoa doth grow cold."

Prophecy 3009: "Seven who hold the Scepter shall be killed...of them shall become a saint."

Prophecy 3011: "The exer... and churches be laid open to ... oppressed shall prevail, and oppose the cruelty of foreigners. For a Boar of Cornwall shall give his assistance, and trample their necks under his feet."

Prophecy 3012: "A shower of blood shall rain, and a raging famine shall afflict mankind. When these things happen, the Red Dragon shall grieve, but when his fatigue is over he shall recover his strength. Then shall misfortunes hasten upon the White Dragon, and the buildings of his gardens be pulled down."

Prophecy 3017: "I see Four Riding, bringing the Ende and the Angells of Hell ride with them, And three shall Rise. And Four and Four Together be Four and the Dark Angel sharl Own Defeat, Yette the Manne sharl claim his Own."

Prophecy 3477: Lette the wheel of Fate turne, let harts en-join, there are othere fyres than mine; when the wynd blowethe the blos-soms, reach oute one to anothere, for the calm cometh when Redde and Whyte and Blacke and Pale approche to Peas is Our Professioune.

Prophecy 3817: "The Number of the Beast is in the Revelayting of Sainte John, call hym in Taddesfield. And ye will know hym by this sign, that when ye do call hym, the Lesser Beaste will walk upon his hind legs like unto a Dancing Bear."

Prophecy 3819: "When Orient's chariot inverted be, four wheles in the skye, a man with bruises be upon Youre Bedde, aching his hedd for willow fine, a manne who testeth with a pyn yette his hart be.

Prophecy 3988: "Whene menne of crocus come frome the Earth and green manne frome the Sky, yette ken not why, and Pluto's barres quitte the Light-ning castels, and sunken lands riseth, and Levia-than runneth free, and Brazil is vert, then Three cometh together and Four arise, upon iron horses ride; I tell you the ende draweth nigh."

Prophecy 3989: "He is not what he says he is."

Prophecy 4009: "Where the Hogg's back ends the young beast will take the world and Adam's line will end in fire and darkness."

Prophecy 4019: "When Orient's Chariot Inverted be a man with bruises up thy bed, aching his head for willow fine."

Prophecy 4020: "Let the wheel of fate turne, let harts enjoin, there are othere fyres than mine; when the whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to another."

Prophecy 5001: "When the skies are crimson seen, then ye both must stand between the world of life and the world of war, where the iron bird lands no more."

Prophecy 5004: "When alle is sayed and all is done, ye must choose your faces wisely, for soon enouff, ye will be playing with fyre."

and that’s all of them I believe so let’s hop into the images I could find

Artworks

Starting out on the very first page we have this

Now I could not find an exact reference to this (I know starting out strong just stay with me) but between the examples I could find plus the four wings surrounding the head I would say this is depicting a Cherubim

This next one is from the actual book itself,

This is the piece, Saint John Devouring the Book by Albrecht Dürer (1498) which was published alongside 15 other woodcut illustrations in his book, Apocalypse, all covering events in Revelations

Now we are moving into pieces that we see in the little montage moments so the images are a little less clear

This piece, Saint Michael Slaying the Dragon, is by Martin Schongauger done sometime between 1480-1490

The next piece was actually a two for one which made my job a little easier and let this post only be one part *curse you image limit*

Chariot Vision, which is by Matthäus Merian depicting Ezekiel’s vision in Ezekiel 1:5 (I couldn’t find when it was made -and now that I’m really looking at it the wheels are a little different but I’m confident enough to say it’s from the same story so the point will still stands)

and finally we have this one

With help from @gallup24 and some image manipulation finally found this piece, The Minde bould hare a fixed Eye On Objects, that are plac’d on High.

I believe to be published first along side other emblems by Gabrielis Rollenhagii in 1613 it was reprinted in 1635 with added hymns by George Wither in his emblem book

the hymn reads

A Heart, which bore the figure of an Eye

Wide open to the Sunne; by fome, was us’d,

When in an Emblem, they would fignifie

A Minde, which on Celeftiall Matters mus’d :

Implying, by this fame, that there is nought

Which in this lower Orbe, our Eyes can fee,

So fit an Object for manly thought,

As thofe things, which in Heav’n above us be.

God, gave Mankinde (above all other Creatures)

A lovely Forme, and upward-looking Eye,

(Among the reft of his peculiar Featares)

That he might lift his Countenance on high:

And (having view'd the Beauty, which appeares

Within the outward Sights circumference)

That he might elevate above the Sphares,

The piercing Eye, of his tatelligence,

Then, higher, and fill higher ftrive to raife

His Contemplations Eyes, till they alcend

To gaine a glimple of thofe eternall Rayes,

To which all undepraved Spirits rend.

For, 'tis the proper nature of the Minde

(Till fehly Thoughts corrupt it) to delpile

Thole Lufts whereto the Rody ftands inclin'd ;

And labour alwayes, upmard to arife.

Some, theretore, thought thofe Goblins which appeare

To haunt old Graves and Tombes, are Soules of fuch,

Who to thefe loathfome places doomed were,

Becaule, they doted on the Fleh too much.

But, ture weare, well-minded Men thall god

To live above, when others bide below.

(also if you want a really good breakdown of the publishers of, The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, check out the one @i-only-ever-asked-questions posted one here)

————————————————————————

so yeah that’s all I could find and like I said this is mainly just a reference post

and yes I am aware that one very obvious piece is missing that seems to be made just for this book. I ran out of images so i’ll post it in a rb

[gingersnaptaff]

Shwmae pawb! (That's 'hi everyone!' in Welsh. :3)

So, GIANTS. Giants are stock characters in both Arthurian AND Celtic legends. Wales has many giants and almost all of them are absolute BASTARDS. Fun. Also, some are connected to mountains. Also fun!

Anyways, I thought I'd do a quick lil thing about them cuz honest we have so many you can - and somebody probably will - do a book about them.

So, just a quick thing about Welsh. 'Fawr,' which is an appellation means 'the Great. It can also mean big. It's why when people swear in Welsh and say 'Iesu Fawr' what they're saying is, "BIG JESUS!"

Two diddy things:

I enjoy the fact that 'Giant' is doing double duty. Can be bastard, can be nice. Spin the cauldron and see which u get.

Now, I was gonna do your biggies like Arthur, Gwenhwyfar, Cai, Gwalchmai, Uthyr, etc, etc. But, honestly, you probably know that they were, at one point or another, seen to be giants in Welsh mythology. (And Arthur was probably on the Bastard side more than good if you believe Gildas. But he is biased cuz Arthur killed his brother so 🤷🏻‍♀️)

So, a lot of the giants are connected to places like Cader Idris - who is probably the most famous giant lad after Bendigeidfran - or Y Cath Palug who prowled around Môn (modern-day Anglesey.)

I kinda debated on whether or not to cover Ysbaddaden Pencawr but I decided to because he is probably a giant you've all heard of and weaves into the 'giants associated with places' because his fort is supposed to be in their Preseli Hills which are in western Wales, mainly in the Pembrokeshire Coast Path. They also have really pretty bluestone and slate too!

Now, you all know the story in Culhwch and Olwen but I just kinda like the fact that Ysbaddaden means 'Hawthorn,' because it supposedly symbolised love and protection in Celtic mythology which, if u think about it, Ysbaddaden kinda loves Olwen in his own way. (I mean he'll die if she marries but, y'know. Doesn't mean he doesn't love her.)

Next up, IDRIS GAWR.

Yes, he of chair fame. If you go up it then supposedly you'll either come back down mad or a poet. I would seriously pray to become a poet. The walk down would make me mad enough. It's STEEP!

Now, before Arthur killed him and buried him up there, he was a king - who may have been a real-life dude. UNCLEAR! - and it was said that he could sit on the mountain and survey his whole kingdom which is COOL AS FUCK. Apparently, his motley band of giants: Yscydion, Ophrom, and Ysbryn also have mountains named after them in the vicinity of Cader Idris.

Next: Rhitta Gawr.

I distinctly remember him being one of my first brush-ins with Welsh Arthurian legends cuz I read about him on the back of a leaflet about Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon). If I recall, the detail that got me the most was the fact that Arthur supposedly defeated him by tricking him and pretending to eat a large amount of food but secretly depositing it into a sack and when Rhitta Gawr asked Arthur told him that he'd 'cut a hole in his stomach.' Rhitta, trusting this dude, who he LITERALLY WANTED TO FUCKIN KILL EARLIER, chopped a hole in his stomach and promptly died. 👌🏻👏🏻 Da iawn Rhitta. Now, also, I want to say that one of the various spellings of his name, 'Ricca' also pops up in 'Culhwch and Olwen' as Arthur's half-brother, the King of Cornwall. Idk if they are supposed to be the same person or not but, like, Arthur was a giant. It's possible.

Now, onto some little lads.

You'll notice that most of these lads were slain by Gwalchmai. I fear he was That Lad. For the Gawain Girlies, how does it feel to have Wales' best Giant fighter for your character?

(Also, NO LAUGHING AT PYSCOC. IT'S PRONOUNCED PEE-SCOC. Don't say, as my friend did, 'Castell Cock' when you mean Castell Coch. I will murder.)

Now, for the Cath Palug, tumblr with NOT let me add an image (boo!) So, I will write it up for you and then YAP.

'Palug (legendary)

Cath Palug is mentioned in a triad (YTP n. 26) where we are told that sow, Hen Wen (white head), while being followed by the magician Coll ap Collfrewy, brought forth a kitten at Maen Du in Llanfair in Arfon. Coll threw the kitten into the Menai (pls don't. The Swellies, man. THE SWELLIES.) and she was afterwards Cath Palug. Another version, (26 W) adds that the sons of Palug fostered it to their own harm. And that was Cath Palug and it was one of 'The Three Great Oppressions' nurtured therein.

The latter version treats Palug as a personal name but it's been also suggested that it could mean 'Scratching Cat.' (Very apt if u ask me.)

The only other mention of it is in 'Who is the Porter?' in the Black Book of Carmarthen:

'Cai the Fair went to Môn

To destroy hosts [or lions]

His shield was a fragment

Against Cath Palug

Nine score fierce [warriors]

Would fall as her food.'

The poem breaks off at this point but it's assumed Cai was the slayer.'

And then in Arthurian Legend: 'in the Vulgate either Arthur slayed the cat or was slayed by it. The Welsh version, which says Cai was the slayer, was also known to John Fordun who, in his Scotichromincon writes: 'But we have heard old hags tell some such fable - that it so happened that one of Arthur's soldiers - Kayus - had to fight an enormous tom-cat; which, seeing the soldier prepared to fight obstinately, climbed to the top of a great rock, and coming down, after having made its claws wondrous sharp for the fight, it gashed the rock with sundry clefts and winding paths beyond belief. Kayus, however, they say killed the cat.'

It's interesting that in the different versions of the triads the reason how Y Palug got her name is different. I'd argue that, perhaps, the Scratching Cat is the more likely reason for the name, as it has the common root 'pal' which might mean cut, lop, scratch claw, or dig pierce. It also shares the same root as palu (dig) and paladr (spear shaft.)

Also, the fragmentary poem says that Cai's shield is 'mynud' against the cat which can plausibly mean polished or mirrored. So he's a bit like Perseus against Medusa! Also, Cai as a giant is probably the perfect combative against a giant cat considering his powers. Like, I would NOT wish to fuck with Cai or Cath.

Anyways, that it for today! Hope u all enjoyed!! Also, I do absolutely think that Gwalchmai was justified in killing all those giants. He needed enrichment. The Giants probs pissed him or Gwenhwyfar off. I think she probably even helped him with some cuz I would.

Hwyl fawr!

(Also, if u have any suggestions as to what u wanna read about next lmk! Marriage laws will be up this Sunday!).

[forests-creatures]

Could you do something with a jaguar therian please 🙏

Of course!! Here's some things that jaguar therians can do to feel more connected to their species: - Go swimming, jaguars are very good swimmers, and are very well adapted for their damp environment

- Practice stalking and hunting! You can stalk plushes you have, and pounce on them, giving them a strong bite!

- Climb trees in a park or forest! Make sure to be careful though!

- If you can't easily access a park or forest, then visit places you can go climbing! Rock climbing places, tower climbers, high ropes etc.

- Eat meat based meals! They aren't picky eaters when it comes to food

- If you live in the UK near Cornwall, you can visit the Eden project! It simulates a rainforest environment

- Make a music playlist about your theriotype!

[mayweneverdie]

Modern things some rdr2 characters would go gaga for. (1)

Characters: Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, John, Abigail, Jack, Sadie.

Mr. Dutch Van Der Linde

—

Nft’s -> he’s a scammer and does not gaf abt it. (Has Arthur make them.)

Temu/Sketchy fast fashion sites -> he would see bonds up for sale and think they’re real. (Hosea has to stop him otherwise camp funds are going down the drain.)

Rv’s -> he packs everyone up like sardines while he has a big ass bed to himself. (Like those van life parents with 20 kids sleeping on the floor.)

The hippie circle sun glasses -> you know the ones I’m talking abt.

Hosea Matthews

Fishing lure tiktok videos -> exhibit a:

Those old lady phone cases that double as a wallet -> he thinks it makes him look hip and in style like the kids. (It doesn’t, but it’s a nice leather so it’s kinda better.)

FACEBOOK MARKETPLACE -> he sells Cornwall bonds on there.

Pawn Stars -> i used to watch pawn stars and I think he’d find it to be nifty (tries to get on there to pawn off the bonds with Dutch.)

Arthur Morgan

The really fancy men’s beard care -> i just feel it in my bones, no explanation.

Bass Pro Shop Pyramid -> he walks around like it’s a museum.

Dog shelters -> reminds him of his dog he used to have and likes to sit with the rescue dogs.

Cure for tuberculosis-> …

John Marston

Cat filters -> kitty cat Martson fans rise up!!!

Goodwill -> he finds more shit to put on the fire place while Abigail dies inside at how tacky it is. (Like the cowboy squirrel.)

Tear away calendars -> specifically the ones with cartoons on it.

Tear away post it notes that become figures -> coincides with his need for knick knacks.

Abigail Marston

Goodwill -> to get rid of John’s knick knacks.

Old lady wallet phone case -> like Hosea, she has the old lady wallet phone case but with a picture of Jack and John in it.

Bento box packing videos -> she tries to make them for Jack but fails (he eats it anyways.)

The Real Housewives -> just feel it in my bones.

Jack Marston (kid ver.)

Youtube toy unboxing videos -> he would be a kindle kid.

Kindle tablet -> to read and watch the toy unboxing videos.

Percy Jackson books -> no explanation needed lets be fr.

Those dollar general toy guns that make super loud noises -> “I wanna be a gunslinger when I grow up!” exhibit a:

Sadie Adler

Carrie Underwood -> she is THE Carrie Underwood fan.

Those early 2000s t-shirts with the bedazzled cross -> she reminds me of one of my old babysitter’s mom who wore a lot of that.

Axe throwing places -> she’s angry.

Break shit places -> she’s angry.

[writinginaforrest]

Guts (feat. a Journey to Bolton Film Festival)

(7th Oct 2024)

This is more like a diary entry than an essay. More anecdotal than what I've written previously. That being said, this is my blog, I can do what I want. In the following I talk about my experiences with my Eating Disorder (ARFID) in considerable detail, if that will make you uncomfortable or distressed, I'd say skip this one. We can catch each other next time around, look after yourself.

I’ve never been to Bolton before. And yet, perhaps I give off the energy of someone who has settled there. It wasn’t twenty minutes after my friend and I stepped off the train that two people asked us for directions, and all we could do was respond in a good-faith bewilderment that we were in fact not native to the area. It did remind me remarkably of a town in Cornwall though. Everything shuttered in the middle of a sunday. Bare streets. A little grey. One of those out-of-the-way places the Government has forgotten about. Still, I couldn’t deny walking down the high street that there were some gorgeous buildings dotted around. 

I walked into the shopping centre, my friend and I got some pictures of the posters for the films showing, and then we eventually found our way into the cinema. There were perhaps seven other people in there by the time the reel started. While I always encourage people to go to the cinema, I can’t help but feel a slight joy when I have a screen all to myself. Maybe it’s selfish. Either way, it was just me, my friend, and these seven other people sitting dotted around this theatre all having a love (or in my friend’s case, being brought by someone who loves) film. 

We saw five shorts:

Pavane (Pauline Gay, 2023, France)

Guts (Margaux Susi, 2023, United States)

Grill (Jade Hærem Aksnes, 2023, Norway)

Heap (Kyle Marchen, 2023, Canada)

An Orange From Jaffa (Mohammed Almughanni, 2024, Occupied Palestinian Territory)

I can’t stress enough how consistently good these shorts were. Dark, Funny, but also thought provoking and cathartic. It made me happy to see a Palestinian film in the mix-up, a small act of defiance against the forces trying to make them lose hope, it looked gorgeous and was written amazingly. Grill was bleak and relatable, Pavane made me think about my mother, and Heap was my favourite out of the group, a real mind-fuck kind of film, and aesthetically brilliant. A sort of shortened Black Mirror. 

But Guts. That stirred up a lot of feelings for me. It was the reason I went to see that particular block of films. I’m a fan of StarKid and Smosh and also Watched all (at the time) Sixteen seasons of Grey’s anatomy in a matter of weeks. Angela Giarratana and Kate Burton?? Opposite Each other?? In a Movie playing in a theatre near me?? Sign Me Up. 

I knew it was about a Girl in recovery. Specifically from an Eating Disorder. I knew Angela’s character was a girl who invited a stranger to dinner because eating with other people is easier than eating alone. I’ve been there. It was only semi-recently that my own eating disorder was brought to my attention. I confided in my friend (the selfsame who came with me to this screening) with a self deprecating chuckle that I’d been eating little other than a couple of slices of toast a day for Three or so weeks. Food has always (and continues to be) a source of anxiety for me. Just as one might be scared of what would happen if they put their hand on the stove (you stand there and imagine the searing pain, the blisters, the burns, it inevitably puts you off the action) I was scared of eating. I was scared of putting food in my body. I was scared of feeling the food in my mouth. Of chewing it. Of actually doing the act. The thought of eating made me feel sick. Fear would wrap an iron grip around my stomach to the point where I’d turn to my trusty loaf of bread and salted butter to get the job done. My friend pointed out with a face twisted with concern that eating that way isn’t normal. Being scared of food isn’t normal. I recounted that it had been this way for as long as I could remember and she informed me that it sounded like I had ARFID. 

Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder. I won’t spout the facts at you but it’s pretty much what it says on the tin. Being aware of it has helped me in a way. But it’s so incredibly present. The other day I simply could not decide what I wanted to eat. I ran through the options in my head and the thought of consuming those things filled me with the familiar dread. There it was again. Instead of deciding what to eat, I let the wave of dread take me and I lay in my bed for an hour and a half, on top of the covers and staring at the ceiling. I had to self regulate. I had to calm down. It had been a good day, and then everything fell apart. 

Guts said so adequately what I had been struggling to verbalise. Hearing Angela speak the things that I needed to remind myself of (Jan Rosenberg’s writing perhaps is the direction I should be tipping my hat to in this regard) made my heart feel a certain way. 

And Jesus Christ that’s why I love movies. 

[harryspurpleloofah]

Till death do them part: husband!Harry Styles oneshot

TW: reader gets constant scares of her and Harry’s life together being short, apart from that all pure fluff and him making her feel better. A cutesy honeymoon shot. 💜

Y/n’s wedding day with Harry was the best day in her life. It felt cliché. It felt basic. But it was the truth. Their vows were taken under the moonlight rather than at daytime in a beautiful rose garden with close family and friends and then the next day they had a proper wedding reception and she got two dresses for fun. But it wasn’t the dresses, or the roses, even the cake that they had both picked after hours of tasting to decide on a flavor it was him. Mr Harry Edward Styles was the highlight of the day. She snuck glances at him anytime she could to catch him smiling as wide as she was, reminding her how he painfully loved her just as much as she loved him.

They honeymooned in the Middle East going from UAE, to Turkey to even some parts of Saudi Arabia. The traditional places to go would be Rome, Paris, Athens maybe. But both y/n and Harry loved Mediterranean and middle eastern food and they deeply respected and admired the culture of the area so they thought it was a perfect place to see together for the first time.

Their honeymoon had basically ended now but Harry really wanted to take her to Cornwall. He loved it there and vividly remembered walking through the beautiful streets of the quaint towns and imagining what it would be like to come here with someone he deeply adored and now he had found her. And his dream had come true. Her hand was in his as he led her along the streets, pointing out his favorite sights from time to time. She had to admit; Cornwall was beautiful and she didn’t regret a single part about coming here.

But she did regret trying to cram all that in for a week and a half. They were both exhausted you could see it on their faces. Luckily, fewer people recognized them in the Middle East but fans still existed and the odd one wanted to chat or have a picture. They were happy to do that but it got very tiring after a while and now that they were back in England it was even worse. It didn’t help that you couldn’t look your best in a raincoat with your socks wet and your drenched hair sticking to your face and when it wasn’t pouring it was so windy that at certain points she was sure she would actually be carried away by the strong Cornish winds.

“Harry?” She softly asked, “can we take a break?”

His eyes softened as he looked over to his wife understandingly. His gaze flickered down to his watch. “Yeah baby if you want to. We’ve got a good hour to kill before the ferry takes us back. You wanna grab lunch?”

“Yes! Are there any restaurants around here?”, she eagerly asked

He smiled slightly and stepped out of the path of people strolling. Leaning against one of the buildings, he pulled out his phone and quickly google searched a few things. “Well there’s a restaurant like half an hour away from here but then we’d miss the ferry and have to spend another hour here…or if you want we could just keep walking and then when we get back to our air bnb we can see the options and have a proper big meal.” He suggested. She pondered for a second.

“I’m not sure…what do you think?”

“Your choice baby honey but I think we could have tea and then eat dinner after we get back yeah?”

“Tea?”

“Yes..?”

“How is tea meant to fill me up?”

“How is it not?”

“It’s a cup of warm water with dirt..”

“Oh darling I don’t mean tea as in a cup of tea!”

“Huh..?”

“Baby, in Britain tea is like…a meal..it’s tea but you have sandwiches and-and cakes! And little pastries too.”

“Oh…cool..then where can we get tea from?”

“I’ll check.” He opens his phone again, entering in the sickeningly sweet password of the day he met her. “Right there’s one tea place down the street and there’s a better reviewed one if we hike a little bit up the mountain.”, he explained. The place they were in was basically a town built on a mountain so the walk was quite steep and definitely hard.

“I don’t care about reviews,” she sighed as her stomach grumbled, “I need food.”

He grinned, “down the street it is darling.”

She had to admit. Teatime was a lovely tradition she’d definitely like to continue. She didn’t think about it much yet but sometimes the thought did cross her mind that maybe she’d grow old with him. They’d become bored of obsessing over the same rock musicians. They’d slowly become interested in eating digestive biscuits and watching the news together. They’d have kids maybe…maybe even grandkids, and watch them grow up while they grow old. It was scary to think that one day she was gonna lose him…or he was gonna lose her. It was always a thought at the back of her mind that came back to haunt her at moments like these in pure bliss with her husband but that’s when she needed to push them away the most and focus on the fact that the beautiful man in front of her was her husband. The caring, kindhearted soul she talked to everyday was now her partner in everything till death do them part. …..till death do them part. She snapped back to reality as she heard Harry’s spoon clinking while stirring his tea.

“It’s very hot..” he muttered before blowing on it a bit, “do you want to try any of the pastries love?”

She smiled, “I’m good for now. Thanks though.”

He smiled back at her. “Come on. You can’t have made me walk all the way here and not even appreciate Cornish pasties. Hm?”

She let out a small chuckle as she finally agreed and let him force her to try a few different things she’d never even seen before and oddly enough she ended up liking all of them. She just couldn’t get her old thoughts out of her mind.

“Do you ever feel bad for your mum?” She gently asked

Harry looked up in confusion, “what’d you mean lovie?”

“As in..she divorced your dad and then….her husband passed away before they even got to see their first grandchild.”

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I mean yeah I do feel bad in that aspect I guess..but I’m sure she’s alright now…why are you asking?”

“Do you ever get scared that’ll happen to you? Like—are you ever doing things with me and then you get sudden anxiety or realisation that one day you’ll do this exact same thing without me—”

“Hey—woah..babe where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know…it’s weird I guess but I do think about it a lot…and it’s really scary.”

“Hey..” he takes her hand and runs over it softly with his thumb, his cold silver wedding ring clashing with her warm skin in a an uncomfortable comfort. “These are just thoughts, they should be pushed to the very very back of your mind for now okay? We are so lucky we have everything we could ever want were financially stable we’re happy and healthy and we have so many opportunities and supportive people around us..we’re lucky enough to not need to constantly worry about any of those things you hear me? The odds of any of us-heaven forbid-dying before another twenty years AT LEAST is minute, tiny tiny tiny. So you don’t need to worry. Ok?”

“But Harry..”

“Shh! No buts. I never want you to worry about anything happening to either of us again. If this is making you so uncomfortable that you can’t enjoy the things we do anymore…you need to rid yourself of that love. It’s nice to think sometimes, but all the time isn’t healthy my darling. I assure you you won’t ever be alone in any lifetime again. I found you here, now didn’t I? I’ll find you again in a thousand years when we have flying cars and what not. Yeah? I’ll promise, when you have a flying car I’ll be the first guy to crash into you and we’ll meet again.” He chuckled slightly, hoping to get something from her too. She cracked a bit of a smile, “honey,” he continued, “my point is I will find you just like I did now just like I did hundreds of years ago. Whether that was as Romeo and Juliet, Mary and Percy Shelly, heck even as Courtney love and Kurt Cobain.”

Harry’s voice was now tinged with humor, “my point is, you chose this. You’re stuck with me now whether you like it or not Mrs Styles” he flashed her a grin.

God this man was a catch

[wheels-of-despair]

Enough | Tom Grant x You | Series Masterlist

Eat, Drink, and Be Merry Pairing: Tom Grant x You Summary: It's been a year since the events of Enough, and you and Tom have an office Christmas party to attend. Contains: Cookies, cocoa, presents, coworkers, familiar faces, just a happy little check-in with Tom and the one who didn't get away. Words: 2k

"Hey. Maintenance man."

Tom's face breaks into a grin at the sound of your teasing voice on his radio, causing him to drop the plastic clip he'd been holding in his mouth while he fixed a drooping string of lights on the welcome sign. He bends down to pick it up off the ground before pulling the radio off of his belt.

"Where are you, and why is the answer not," your voice drops in an imitation of him, "Standing proudly next to my beloved at the office Christmas party?"

He laughs to himself and presses the button to answer. "On my way, love. Had to fix the lights on the sign again." He holds the radio in one hand and works with the other, sticking the plastic back to the wood and draping the light string over it.

"This is no time for over-achieving, Thomas. Santa's list has already been finalized. You'll just have to try harder next year."

Tom snorts and stands back to admire his work.

Welcome to Sandy Shores!

Tom loved it here. He knew the place inside and out; he'd helped build it, after all. He knew every employee, every delivery person who came in and out, and hoped to remember the faces of returning guests next summer. (And if he didn't, the sassy lass who ran the office would help him match names to faces.)

They'd be celebrating their one-year anniversary next month. One year since he'd shown up in front of her flat and convinced her to come back to Cornwall with him. One year since they'd packed her things into boxes, secured them in the back of his truck, and driven south. She'd followed him down in her beloved junk-bucket of a car - which she'd nearly run him over with once - and used a pair of radios to stay in contact during the long drive. They never wanted to be apart again.

They'd had a little time to get settled in before the holiday park officially opened to guests, and Tom soon realized that the week they'd spent together in the fall was only a preview of the good times to come. They still couldn't get enough of each other. They cooked together, and watched sunsets, and he'd taught her how to surf.

Well he'd tried to teach her how to surf. During their last lesson, she insisted she'd rather just sit on the beach and watch him. But that was alright as well; he quite liked having someone waiting for him with a warm towel and a big smile when he came shivering out of the sea. He especially liked it when she'd take him home and warm him up more.

When she first arrived, his caravan had looked like all the others. And then, one day… it was home. He'd never been a big decorator, but a new set of curtains here and a lamp there and a few pictures on the walls made all the difference.

His favorite picture was of the two of them. They'd been watching a sunset from their porch, and she declared that they needed a picture together. They'd turned around so that the vivid pink sky was in the background, and she'd snapped several smiling photos. But his favorite was the one where he'd turned his head at the last second to surprise her with a kiss on the cheek. His mouth had crashed into her with perhaps a little more force than he'd intended, and they'd both erupted into laughter.

His second-favorite was of the two of them on either side of their dear friend April. She and her granddaughter Amelia had come to stay for a week over the summer, along with Amelia's husband and children. April loved her new home almost as much as Tom did his, and was quite impressed with how far his cooking skills had come along since she'd seen him last.

Tom and his lady love worked together seamlessly; she took care of the paperwork, and he took care of the labor. It was just the two of them at first, but as more people were hired, things got easier. He couldn't operate the software to make a reservation or update the website if his life depended on it, and her most valuable contribution to the upkeep was occasionally holding a flashlight. But she held that flashlight like a professional, and he got quite good at scribbling down names and phone numbers on paper and promising that she'd call back to make things official. They made a great team.

"Thomas Grant, you have been out there admiring that sign for a full minute. It looks fine. Get in here."

Tom holds the radio to his mouth. "Are you watching me over the security camera?"

"Maybe."

"Like what you see?" He grins and spins around.

"Gorgeous. Now please get your gorgeous butt in here."

Tom sets off toward the office with a smile on his face. "Can't help but notice you're not at the party either, if you're in the office watching me on the monitor."

"Thought we'd make our grand entrance together."

"Awww," Tom coos as he steps in through the back door. He deposits his coat on the rack and slips into your office, avoiding the staff gathered in the lobby. "Hi."

"Hi," you greet, clicking away from the security cameras and standing from your desk.

You cross the room and meet Tom by the door, greeting him with a hug even though it had only been about an hour since you'd seen him last. He nuzzles his cold nose into your neck, and you squeak. He laughs and keeps burrowing.

"Tommm," you whine.

"Hmmmm?" he hums into your neck.

"We've got a party to get to."

Tom sighs, detaches himself, and opens the door for you. "Ladies first." You lead the way into the lobby.

"There they are!" Richard, the owner of the caravan park, holds his arms open in a surprised gesture like he hadn't seen you in years.

"Sorry, sorry, a few last-minute things needed to be taken care of," Tom apologizes.

"That's our Tom, always going above and beyond!" Richard says proudly. "Alright, now that everyone's here, I have a few things to say!"

Richard always has a few things to say. He's a little eccentric, but working for him has been a dream. You'd never had a boss who valued your opinions before. He absolutely adored Tom, and treated him like a most trusted advisor. No more barked orders and snide comments like at Shirley's. Aside from the occasional visit from Richard and his wife Marianne, you and Tom were left alone to run the place. You loved it.

While Richard rambles about your first year of business, you take a moment to admire the room.

A large Christmas tree stands by the window. Richard had requested beach-themed decorations, to match the park's name, even though there were very few guests this time of year. It did look nice. You and Tom had done the decorating yourselves. Shells, sand dollars, starfish, seahorses. Blue and white lights lined the reception desk and doorframe and glowed from within the branches of the frosted fake tree. It was all very coordinated and professional.

Home looked a little different.

You and Tom had opted for a more traditional look. Your tree was green, and multi-colored lights reflected off the plain but shiny ornaments. At night, when all the other lights were off, it cast a warm glow through the house that made you want to snuggle up and stare it until you fell asleep. You and Tom had been experimenting with different kinds of Christmas cookies, making a new batch each day, so it constantly smelled like home-made sweets. It was warm, and cozy, and absolutely perfect.

"So let's hear it for these two, who guided us all through a tremendous first year of business!"

A smattering of applause brings you back to reality. Richard, his wife, and the five off-season employees and their significant others beam at you and Tom. You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

"Anything to add?" Richard asks. You give Tom a nudge with your shoulder.

"Uh, yeah," he clears his throat. "We just want to thank everyone for choosing to be here with us. Not just tonight, but in general. We've got a great thing going here, and we're both so happy that you're all part of it."

You nod in agreement. The room remains silent.

"…alright, I'm done." The small crowd chuckles at Tom's awkward conclusion, and you watch adoringly as his cheeks turn pink.

"Alright, everyone," Richard announces, "Let's eat, drink, and be merry!"

Everyone breaks off into smaller groups after the dismissal, and you turn to Tom with a smile.

"Doin' pretty good with that public speaking, Mr. Grant."

"Hush," he says with his best fake glare, making you laugh.

"Oh! The stockings!" You suddenly remember. "Everyone?" you ask, hoping to catch their attention before they start to get lost in conversation or wander off. "Don't forget to take your stocking from the fireplace before you go!"

The staff's eyes drift toward the unlit fireplace, and they hesitate. After a few seconds, Kyle and Kendra - Tom's friend from his previous place of employment and the pretty blonde he'd met in a bar last year - make the first move. Kyle is now Tom's second-in-command, and Kendra is your activities director. There's not much for her to do here in the winter-time, but she and Kyle live on-site and she helps out whenever someone needs an extra pair of hands.

The rest of the staff follows suit, until only two stockings remain.

"Richard?" you ask gently. He stops watching his employees tear into their gifts and turns to you. "The last two are for you and Marianne."

"Us?" he asks, eyes bulging. She peeks her head out from behind him.

"Of course!" you smile. "We couldn't leave you out, you're part of the family!"

Richard and his wife approach the fireplace, and sure enough, find their names on the last two stockings. They carefully remove them from their hooks and bring them back to you and Tom at the desk. You watch with amusement as they begin pulling out candy and trinkets. Their stockings held the same sort of treasures as everyone else's, but the unbridled joy on their faces at locally-made treats, lip balm, lotion, and socks was genuine. You and Tom had debated on whether you should include the owners in this little exchange with the rest of the employees or get them something else to set them apart, but now you knew now that you'd made the right decision.

You and Tom had so much fun shopping for stocking stuffers. You'd spent an entire weekend going in and out of every shop in town, looking for tiny treasures that no one would think to buy for themselves. You'd come home loaded down with bags, and had sat in the living room floor beneath the tree to sort through your findings and pack them into the light blue stockings that matched the office's beach decorations.

You and Tom stood to the side, watching your friends and coworkers and boss laugh and compare gifts. Christmas music played quietly as the group devoured the cookies you and Tom had been working on all week and drank an absolutely ridiculous amount of hot chocolate until, finally, they began to yawn and head toward the door.

When the numbers had dwindled to four - you and Tom and Kyle and Kendra - the party had lasted for nearly two hours. Kendra began collecting forgotten cups, but you stopped her.

"Those can wait 'til tomorrow. I think we've had enough excitement for one night," you yawn.

"You don't have to tell me twice," she grins. "Kyle! Take me home!"

"Yes, ma'am," he answers, rising from the chair where he'd been talking to Tom. He bends, and she hops on his back. Tom opens the door for them with a grin, and Kyle carries Kendra out.

You and Tom turn off the lights, lock the doors, and head for home. It's just a short walk away.

Your tree glows through the window, welcoming you to your favorite place on in the world. You and Tom go inside and slip into pajamas, but don't go to bed. You curl up on the couch together beneath a fuzzy blanket and watch the lights of the tree twinkle. You can feel your head getting heavier, and nuzzle into Tom's chest.

"Happy Christmas, love," he mumbles.

"The happiest," you yawn. Even half asleep, you know that this first Christmas with him is going to be hard to top.

[maria-eve-falcon]

THINGS I know about joe alwyn

birthday is 21 feb 1991 (international mother language day )

is a pisces

mom (elizabeth meakins )is a psychotherapist (she is a specialist in eating disorder)

dad (richard alwyn) is a director and was a lecturer in France for some years

height is 6'1 (controversial)

upbringing was upper middle class (they were posh posh)

he went to the same school as Dan Redcliff (city of london) but he was a year older/ younger

he had so long hair that his teach used to tell him to cut it

tom was born in 1989 , 24 aug (1 and some months apart from joe) tom works in as a social worker (tho he originally wanted to be a sports reporter ) he studied from Cambridge

pat in 22 feb , 2003 (literally 12 years apart from joe ) (not confirmed date of birth) (pat is 6'4 btw) (went to a public school unlike joe and tom whom both went to city of london (a more private school)

he is a very caring older brother

they had a family dog named flint (dunno about him now hence the past tense)

liz meakins used to write about them in her the independent column

liz has a book (she dedicated it to her fam) called what will you do with my story

great-grandson of william alwyn (3rd gen neppo but their dynamic with him is weird considering they are the great-grandchildren of olive pull (william's first wife , whom he left for his pupil (doreen) god knows when but william didn't have any children with doreen so..... still 3rd gen neppo)

his great uncle (paternal) nick alwyn was a cricketer

his great uncle (maternal) was bruce kent

his maternal family is part welsh

More dates here!

he was quite active during black lives matter and the george floyd murder and police brutality (the george floyd one is from 27 may 2020, the hashtag with the blackout pick is from june 2 , 2020) he also posted a donation link but I lost the receipts for it.

he was friends / (was together with) shared a dorm with lindsey russell from blue peter who alwyn once commented under his pic during billy lynn season . also there is an infamous article about themfrom a fellow friend of joe's (won't rule it out no nah)

his friends call themselves the frosty crew (they are a group of 6)

niceboy ed is one of his best friends

his best besties are jesse and elenor

one of his ex gf's first insta pic was joe (sorry won't name names)

unconfirmed sources say joe had a gf for 4 years from 15 to 19 years old (who btw was his first gf) . they broke up cause he went to Bristol (they were long term for a year before breaking up)

he's known as the party guy (when he is in the mood ob. like he's also a bit of an introvert)

he loves drinking and eating

he can play guitar

he can do hula hoops

he learnt fencing after watching the zorro movie

he had a fish named rainbow starr whom he found tragically after Christmas in their fridge when he was little

he had a turtle whom he'd call his best friend when he was little

he had platinum blonde hair as a child

he had clown training

his fav place is Cornwall where he's family'd go for vacations

He used to play rugby as a child but dislocated one of his shoulders during a game. Since then he played football mostly.

if zoomed and observed correctly , one can see Joe has a slightly crooked nose. A story is to come ig!

this was his cv:

more on joe from : @rarejoealwyn @joealwyndaily @joealwynspain

most of my source and an additional thanks to @bisluthq and @youareinlovees for being here at the greatest times and giving amazing contents

please feel free to share if you know more!

(i swear there are very important things I'm missing but I dunno why I'm having a brain lag and I'm super lazy soooo)

also ! pics!

rick alwyn

elizabeth meakins , tom alwyn, joe alwyn, pat alwyn :

rosemary meakins (his grandma, maternal), Bruce kent and George kent

[hotforharrysheart]

Blackout

You’re both up early after the last concert of the European leg of Love on Tour and you’re headed to Cornwall instead of London.

You’re in bed snuggled up with him, side by side, chests pressed together, enjoying the last few moments before you have to get up and get ready to go to the airport.

He presses a series of soft kisses to your lips, just enjoying the feel of your warm mouth against his.

“Mmmm…these lips are magic,” you say as he pulls back, fingers brushing over them.

He smiles at you and presses another soft kiss to your mouth.

“Can’t wait to get to Cornwall. Just want to unplug from everything and be alone with my rockstar boyfriend,” you say against his lips.

“Mmmm…can’ wait either Jezebel.”

“I guess we should get up and get to the airport,” you say fingers softly moving through his chest hair.

“Mmmm…’m already up,” he drawls pressing his pelvis against yours.

“So you want me to scream your name one last time before we leave, hmmm?”

He laughs his breathy little laugh, his finger circling your nipple. “Maybe.”

“Wellll…I suppose you could talk me into that,” you say rolling over in top of him. “It’d be so easy for me to just lift up and let you in…”

“Do it…fuckin’ do it.”

You move your hips up to get into position and then you both jump as you hear someone banging on the door.

“There’s ya tea,” he says sighing.

“Best get up and going then,” you say moving off him and getting out of bed.

He watches you go to the door and then texts Ron. He’s gonna surprise you with a blackout after you arrive. You want to unplug then that’s what’s gonna happen.

He gets up and pads to the living area and pours a cup of coffee and sits down next to you while you sip your tea, his hand on your thigh. It doesn’t take long for you both to get ready for the airport and then you’re finally on the way to your little bubble.

You’re almost giddy as you approach the pink cottage and you sigh a contented sigh as you see the pink door and Harry pulls the Range Rover into the garage.

He squeezes your inner thigh where his hand has rested protectively since you left the airport. His head falls back on the headrest, he slumps his body, closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath. You smile grasping his hand. There’s just something so sexy about relaxed Harry…his body limp with contentment and his muscles slowly releasing their tension. He rolls his head toward you and gives you a goofy grin, “We. Are. Here, Love…” he says on a huge sigh. “Love wha’ I do, love lettin’ it go fo’ a while too. You ok, babe?”

“I’m perfect, H. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much. Are you ok?” You say mirroring his position against the headrest and running your hand up and down his arm.

“’m great…jus’ wanna spend a couple of days, eatin’ a ‘lil food, drinkin’ a ‘lil too much, fuckin’ ya hourly, eatin’ a ‘lil more food, makin’ ya cum over and over, maybe visitin’ tha pets,” he leans forward to place a soft kiss against your lips, “makin’ love ta ya, drinkin’ a ‘lil wine off ya body, then goin’ down on ya, fuckin’ ya in the tub…,”

You interrupt, “Harry… baby, you’re digressing into filth…”

“tastin’ my honey in our pink room,” he reaches down and fondles your breasts, “wanna fuck ma tits, maybe eat a ‘lil more for strength, take some pics of your beautiful body while ya cum,” he inhales deeply and holds it and finally exhales a deep relaxing breath, “jus’ wanna get lost wi’ ya…ya good wi’ tha’?”

You smile a relaxed smile, “Oh baby, I’m so so good with that. Did you get to contact Ron and Helen about our stay, is the cottage ready for us?”

“Oh, yeah, they got us all fixed up, but they’re goin’ out of town fo’ a couple of days ta visit a friend so they won’t be around righ’ now.”

You pout, “Oh phooey, we can’t see Bennett and Thomasina for a while then.”

“’S ok ‘cause all I wan’ ya ta see fo’ a while is tha man who wan’s ta be ya husband…naked…inside ya,” his eyes get glassy.

Your eyes fill with tears that are slowly streaming down your cheeks. “Baby, say it again, please?”

“Tha man who wan’s ta be ya husband,” he chokes saying it.

You close your eyes, “Well the woman who wants to be your wife really, really likes that idea.”

This time when he grins a tear drops from each of his eyes onto the front of his shirt and he laughs that breathy laugh, “Fuck tha’ sounds good.” He reaches up and rubs your cheek, “I’m so in love wi’ ya.”

You reach up to place your hand over his on your cheek, “I’m so in love with you.”

“Maybe we oughta get outta tha garage now an’ go celebrate, yeah?” he says with a sniff.

You nod and wipe his tear. Truth be told it’s been a very emotional last few weeks with so so much going on. It’s not surprising that so many things feel raw, vulnerable and open. You know you’ve never, ever in your life felt so deeply and loved so thoroughly. You wonder if your parents had the same relationship, did they love as deeply? You shake your head wondering where thoughts of your parents are coming from. You’ve been having these wondering moments more often for months now, but they seem to sneak up on you at the most random moments.

Harry sees you shake your head and frowns slightly, “Ya ok?”

“Yeah, I’m great,” you tell him. Now’s not the time.

You make your way into the cottage and find the usual welcome basket from Ron and Helen. Helen left a dozen berry cream muffins from Marcy’s café, your favorite. There’s a stock fridge full of the foods and drinks from your requested list and, of course, fresh fruit, homemade breads with jam and butter and that cheese Harry loves so much. But no fresh Hydrangeas from their garden, they’re all gone for the season, instead there are flowers from the flower shop and a boat load of handmade soy and beeswax candles.

“Wow, Ron and Helen are feeling super romantic, look at all these homemade candles, and…,” you stop and walk toward the dining table, “what…what is this? This is an old Tiffany oil lamp? My god it’s beautiful, I bet that’s lovely when it’s lit!” you say spinning around looking for Harry.

He’s standing there holding his phone up with one hand when the shutter clicks.

You put your hand on your hip, “Are you taking a picture of me?”

“Yup.” He holds it up again.

You cover your face with both hands, “Harry I’m a traveling mess!” you say peeking through split fingers.

The shutter clicks again and he pulls the phone close to his abdomen so he can look at it. A few movements later, “Look at my new home screen,” he smiles proudly holding up his phone.

You walk toward him and look at the phone, “Babe, that’s silly! Maybe when one of Ron and Helen’s wedding pics comes in you can use that one,” you say wrapping your arms around his torso and leaning up on tiptoes to kiss him.

“Nope, only wedding type pics tha’ go on ma phone are ones of my bride, till then silly it is,” he holds his phone up at arm’s length and takes a selfie of the two of you snuggled together, your head rested on his chest. He pulls it in so you can both take a look at it.

“Awww…I like that one, send it to me...I think I w….(Loud click, then darkness everywhere)

“Wha’ the…” Harry says holding you a little tighter.

“Harry! Oh my god, did we not pay the electric bill!?”

He burst out laughing, “Hardly, love,” he says through fits of giggles.

“Stop it! That’s the kinda thing we “common” folk have to think about in these situations!” You say slapping his chest cocking your mouth to one side.

“Don’ think tha’s the problem, babe,” he says pulling away.

You tighten your arms. “Ummm…Harry, I guess now is the time to tell you I’m scared of the dark…and with the shutters still closed it’s dark and the sun is going down fast. When I first came to live with my Auntie, I slept with the light on, not a nightlight but THE light on. Don’t know why, I can usually make it just fine if I’m very still, but if I have to walk around, I get really, really scared. Please don’t leave, please don’t leave!” you say in a massive, rushed jumble of words before burying your head in his chest.

“Hey, Hey, Hey, Shh-Shh-Shh… ‘m not goin’ anywhere. Jesus, I wish I’d known tha’… listen ‘s ok, worst case scenario we have tons of candles an’ tha’ lamp right there ya love s’ much, hmm? We can light it an’ see those beautiful colors ya were talkin’ abou’, kay? In fact, let’s go over there an’ light it right now.” He threads his fingers in yours and kisses your forehead, cursing to himself, maybe this wasn’t a good idea, for fuck’s sake.

You take a deep breath and reason with yourself as your eyes adjust to the darkness. It’s not all that dark, it’s just moving around in the dark that seems scary. You feel comforted that he’s holding on to you tightly.

He guides you over to the lamp and thanks the gods there is a butane lighter there. Carefully removing the glass lantern, he turns the wick mechanism and the wick rolls up slightly. Flicking the lighter on the wick bursts into flame and the entire room lights up. He turns his head immediately to you and you let out a deep exhale. “Ya good?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you chuckle awkwardly, “uh, so… that was me freaking out like an idiot.”

He chuckles, “S’ok, babe, everybody’s got summat, ‘m terrified of clowns, prolly piss ma pants ‘f one jumped out at me in broad daylight, so wha’?” he shrugs his shoulders, “ya hate the dark, I hate clowns. No big deal. Lemme go see if I can figure out wha’s goin’ on, ya ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good now that the lamp is on, I’ll go light some candles and put them around.”

“Hey c’mere,” he says pulling your arm to get you to walk to him, “I’m righ’ here, ‘s all good, I love you.”

He walks toward the garage door, “Jesus Christ, wha’ hav’ I done…” he chastises himself for planning a blackout night. She wanted to unplug, so he’d planned for Ron to switch the main off but leave the fridge and hot water on. A sort of planned stranded night alone together. Fuck, if he’d only known you didn’t like the dark. Wonder why he thought to himself? Well, it wasn’t a lie, Ron and Helen were out of town for the night and fuck if he knew where the main was to switch. You’d just have to live with it till morning. But, by God, his girl wouldn’t spend a moment afraid, he’d make sure of that. He’d make sure she was distracted and warm and comforted.

He walks through the garage, flashlight lighting up his car and miscellaneous garage items. He sighs. He looks all around but no sign of the breaker box. This was a bad idea, he thinks, but nothing to be done about it now.

You look up as he comes back in the room. You’ve lit all the candles and the room is aglow. You found three old down comforters in the bedroom on the main floor and are laying them out on the floor in front of the fireplace and he stops in the doorframe and just watches you work. “You just gonna stand there gaping?”

He smirks. “Jus’ admirin’ tha view is all.”

“Should we open the windows?”

“Yeah, it’s chilly but it’ll get stuffy in here if we don’. I’ll get goin’ on tha fire.”

“Ok, thank you,” you say softly.

You both work silently to finish up and get everything set up.

“Ya hungry? It looks like tha water an’ fridge are still on.”

You furrow your brow and look at him. That seems awfully convenient and you wonder if he’s planned all of this but you decide to just go with it. “Yeah, let’s eat.”

“Ok, jus’ stay here an’ I’ll get it tagether.”

You hear the wine bottle opening and the glug glug of the wine as he pours it into the glasses.

He brings in the wine on a tray and sets it down and then jogs back to the kitchen. A few minutes later he’s back with a charcuterie board. He sits the board down and sits down on your pallet bed next to you and picks up both wineglasses, handing one to you. “‘M sorry abou’ tha electricity, bu’ ya did say ya wanna unplug.”

You giggle. “I dunno if I meant literally, but yeah. I just want to be alone with you.”

“Cheers, Jezebel,” he says clinking his glass to yours and taking a sip.

After nibbling on the meats, cheeses and fruit, he watches as you stretch your arms in a yawn and the way your shirt raises up.

“Tired, baby?”

“Mmmm…a little.”

“Wanna cuddle fo’ a bit?”

“That’d be nice,” you say taking your shirt off and pulling down your leggings.

He gulps. The sight of your naked body is still something that makes him crazy…even after all of these months.

You lay down and watch as he takes his shirt and joggers off and lays down behind you, snuggling in close to you and wrapping his arm around you, his hand just under your breast, fingers moving over your tattoo.

You sigh a contented sigh and before you know it, you fall asleep.

Harry lays there for a moment, holding you, wishing he knew what caused that quiver he heard in your voice when talking about being afraid of the dark. You twitch in your sleep and scoot your body back closer to him and he leans over and kisses the shell of your ear. God, he loves how even in your sleep you need to be as close as possible. I better stay awake with all these candles and watch over everything, he thinks to himself. They’re all in glass jars…that’s good…maybe I’ll close my eyes for just a minute…he thinks just before he to succumbs to sleep.

An hour later he wakes up missing the feeling of your warmth against his body. He raises his head slightly and sees that you’ve rolled forward on your tummy and are still fast asleep. He can’t help looking down your body. He smirks slightly at the fact that white cotton panties have ridden up your bum on the left side while the right side stayed in place because you’ve bent your knee and pulled it up closer to your body. He raises up on his elbow just so he can get a better look. He can’t help himself, he runs his finger down the length of your spine and circles the dimples on your lower back as he leans forward to kiss that heart-shaped freckle on your shoulder.

“Mmmm, H?” you say sleepily.

“Hey baby,” he says kissing that freckle again.

“We fell asleep.”

He chuckles at your statement of the obvious and continues to kiss across your shoulders and the back of your neck. “Yeah, we did. How ya doin’?”

“Mmmm, good… but even better if you keep doin’ that.”

He runs his hand down your back and around to your tummy rubbing soothing circles. You start to roll over, “No, don’ move, stay like tha’,” he whispers against your skin before placing a wet kiss on your shoulder blade.

You reach up and pull your hair up and over to one side offering the back of your neck to him.

“Wan’ ma kisses, swee’heart?” he asks as he kisses the warm skin on the back of your neck.

Goosebumps breakout on every inch of your body and your breath catches as his tongue laves a particularly sensitive spot just behind your ear.

“Mmmm…” you roll straighter and stretch like a cat after a long nap; long arms over your head, straightened long legs, arching back, even your toes stretch and then curl. “Don’t stop…” you slur against the pillow.

“Never stop,” he whispers as he rolls over on top of you, trying to prop his weight up with his knees and elbows.

“Just lay on me, I wanna feel your weight.”

He relaxes on your back and you can feel his hard pecs, abs and his very hard cock nestled against your panty covered bum. Placing one knee between your legs he can’t help rutting his pelvis. “Feel s’good, baby, I wan’ ya,” he says running his fingers along your underarm to the side of your breast as it rests against the duvet.

“Side boob…,” you say with turning your head with a smile.

Raising up on his hands he kisses down your back ribs to the side, “Jezebel side boob.”

You pull your hand back to run it through his hair. “I want you, Harry. Do you want me?”

“Fuck yeah, I wan’ ya, wan’ ya jus’ like this. Help me take these panties off,” he says pushing at the waistband.

You reach down and cover his hand, taking a moment to squeeze it, a gesture to let him know you’re with him. You both manage to get them off while you lay flat. He shifts up to get his boxers off and to position himself between your legs propped on his knees. He props up on one hand next to your head and runs his other under your body and down to your mound. You can’t help but flex your hips up so he has better access to you.

“Tell me Jezebel, are ya wet fo’ me?”

You nod, “Touch me.”

He runs his fingers down your mound until his middle finger finds your clit, “Here, babe? You wan’ ma touch here?” He swivels his hard cock against your bum.

You roll your head down burying in your forehead against the pillow, “Yes, more,” you knees spread wider and this time your swivel your hips against him.

“Fuck, ‘m s’hard,” he says

“Babe, I’m so wet,” you both say at the same time.

“Pull ya knees up, love,” he says pulling back so you have space.

You pull your knees up, spread wide – a perfect dirty downward dog position with your pussy propped up and open to him. Your stretch your arms out long above and turn your head to the side.

He leans on his arm to the side to get a good look at your blissful, relaxed face. He grinds his cock against your wet open cunt. “Wanna fuck ya jus’ like this, ya gon’ lemme slip inside?”

“You know that’s what I want, Harry, I want you inside me,” you whine.

He reaches down and runs his cockhead up and down your drippy hole, “Fill ya up,” he whispers just as he pushes inside. His mouth slacks open and eyes flutter shut as he inhales deeply. He exhales through pursed lips very slowly in an attempt to gain a little control.

“Ah!....Mmmm,” you breath out.

“Oh baby…s’warm an’ wet fo’ me,” he murmurs against the skin of your shoulder.

“Deeper, Harry…” you moan longing to feel him as deep as he’ll go.

Running one hand around to your lower tummy he places his palm just under your belly button, “Here, wanna feel me here, doncha?”

“Mm-hmm” you nod rocking back to him.

He pushes up with his arm, hands propped on your hips for leverage. “Jesus,” he says looking down where his cock is buried. He pulls out and smirks at the glistening sheen covering him. You push back and he looks up and sees your hands fisted in the duvet, long lean back, shoulder blades flexing, sides quivering with your breathing. “Ya good?”

“S-s-so deep like this…,” you whine as he pumps once then again.

He looks down again at how your wetness has formed a creamy white ring at the base of his dick, “Tight,” he mutters to himself and flutters his eyes. His hands push you forward and then pull your back on him, he does it again, then falls forward onto his hands needing to be closer to you.

He bucks his hips, “Touch y’self fo’ me,” you pull your arms down, one wraps around his and grabs on, the other finds your clit poking out just above where he has you stretched out on his thrusting cock. You can’t help touching him as he moves in and out.

“Feel me, babe? Can ya feel me fuck ya?”

“Yes! Don’t stop, please….”

He swivels his hips and pumps, swivels and pumps as you pant out his name.

“Har..ry, Har..ry, it’s so good.”

“Wan’ ta fuck ya all week, yeah?” he picks up the pace, “Wan’ ta spend hours in ya, take ya ta the edge over an’ over, wan’ ya cumming fo’ me all week, wan’ ma honey all ov’r me…”

“That m-m-outh of y-y-yours,” you say on a long moan loving every word of his dirty talk.

“Know ya love it… Come on, babe, can tell ya close. I’m gonna cum an’ I need ya wi’ me.”

You rub your clit just right and he changes his angle just right, “Right there! Right there! Right there!” Your orgasm blasts through and your hips buck and writhe against his pelvis.

He pumps in one last deep thrust and stills. “Fuuuck! Fuuuck!” You both fall to the side a panting mess of limbs. “Jesus Fucking Christ, love, are you ok?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum smiling. “Needed that so bad.”

“Wan’ed ta go slow, but, god…”

You roll over to face him and run your finger down his chest, “Was perfect. Just what I wanted, alone time to do what we want, when we want, as much as we want…but I kinda hoped you kiss me more.”

He grins, “C’mere.” He pulls you to him, smooths your hair to the side and cups your cheek. He strokes along your bottom lip, “All tha kisses ya wan’,” he leans to kiss your lips, darting his tongue out to tangle with yours.

He just makes out with you…right there in the living room, in front of the fire, candles burning low, and you a mess from the sex you just had…and neither of you care. He just enjoys kissing you with no agenda and it makes your heart melt.

When he does finally pull away from your mouth, you smile at him and card your fingers through his curls. You love how long they’re getting. “Thank you.”

He smiles his most beautiful smile at you. “Fo’ wha’?”

You shrug. “For being you. For loving me like you do. For…fuck, I dunno…everything.”

He tucks your hair behind your ears. “Ya welcome bu’ if that’s the case I hafta thank ya too. Fo’ all those things an’ fo’ puttin’ up wi’ ma crazy life…know it’s no’ easy.”

“No, but it’s worth it. YOU’RE worth it.”

He presses his lips to yours in a series of soft kisses.

He moves slightly and his arm grazes your breast and you moan into his kisses. “Sensitive?”

“Mmmm…yes,” you say shyly biting your lip.

“Hmmm…got plans for these this week yanno,” he rasps middle finger circling your nipple.

“Yeah? Tell me.”

He laughs his breathy little laugh. “Patience, Jezebel. We have all week.”

You hmph. “Tease.”

He chuckles and kisses the apple of your cheek. “Ya love me.”

You sigh dramatically. “I do.”

“Found a deck of cards when I was looking for a flashlight earlier. Care to play a game?”

A memory flashes through your mind and then slips away. “Sure.”

He looks at you and furrows his brows. Somethings going on with my girl, he thinks. He just hopes you’ll confide in him soon. He stands up and walks to the kitchen and grabs the cards and sits down in front your legs crossed over each order. He takes the cards out of the pack and shuffles the deck. “Poker? Think there’s some pretzels we could use for chips…”

You don’t even hear him. A memory has come back of your dad teaching you to play poker and it’s so vivid you feel like you’re gonna vomit. You clamber up and run to the bathroom, flip the toilet seat and dry heave, tears running down your face.

Harry’s right behind you and he gently holds your hair back. “Ya ok?”

You nod and raise up to move to the sink and turn the tap on to splash cool water on your face.

He grabs a towel and hands it to you and you dry your face. “Wha’ happened? Wha’s goin’ on?” He asks, fingers moving gently over your flushed cheeks.

You grab his hand and kiss his fingers. “I…I had a memory of my parents. My dad was teaching me to play poker and my mum was kidding him about teaching an eight year old to play,” tears start running down your cheeks, “it was a good memory and…”

He grabs a Kleenex and hands it to you and you wipe your cheeks.

“I haven’t thought about them in so long, H. After they died, I couldn’t remember very much about them.”

He rubs his hands up and down your arms, soothing you. “An’ now?”

“I think…I think my memory is trying to come back…I keep having these flashes.”

He purses his lips. “Have ya thought about seein’ a therapist?”

“I have and I think…I think I need to.”

He pulls you into his arms. “I think s’too. We’ll find ya a good one, yeah? Whatever ya goin’ through, we’ll work through it, alrigh?”

You nod against his chest. “I want to remember.”

He kisses your forehead. “C’mon, let’s watch a movie, yeah? Laptop’s fully charged. I’d make some popcorn, but…,” he grins, “how abou’ some cheese an’ crackers? Sound good?”

You nod and kiss his chest.

You make your way down the stairs back to your pallet. Harry heads to the kitchen stark naked, comfortable to be in his own skin. You, however, feel a little chill in the air so you opt to snatch his discarded Beastie Boy’s tee and grab his boxers to slip on rolling down the waistband to just below your belly button. You pad over to the back of the couch to fetch your laptop and glasses, when you get back around to the pallet Harry is tossing a bite of cheese in his mouth as he sets the dish down.

“Hey! Steal ma heart an’ now ya steal ma pants!” he calls out pretending to be perturbed with his hands on his hips

You buckle over in laughter, “Harry…,” you laugh some more, “you’re so hard to take seriously when you stand there naked like you’re superman.”

He drops his hands with a grunt. “Think ‘m offended.”

You walk over and wrap your arms around his waist and place your hands on his bum cheeks and do a little back and forth drumming on them, “Aww, baby, I’m sorry, you’re my superman and god knows I love ya naked.”

“Yeah? Well, I love ya naked as well, ya cold?”

“Yes, but…also just like wearing your things too… especially the things closest to your body,” you say leaning your head to one side and looking up at him as you press your body into his. “That alright?”

He leans down to kiss your nose, “Jesus, babe…sexy as fuck is wha’ tha’ is. Course ya can wear anythin’ of mine.”

“Can I pick the movie, please?” you say with a pathetic pout.

“Sure, but can we move ta tha couch, ma bum hurts on tha floor.”

You drum on his cheeks again, “It’s because you have so little padding back here, baby,” you say with a grin. “How about an oldie but a goodie, “When Harry Met Sally”?”

“Hav’n seen tha’ in ages, sounds great.”

While you get the couch set up with pillows and blankets, Harry disappears to put on some fresh boxers on the way back making a beeline through the kitchen for some bottles of water.

You sit back on the couch while he stretches out with his head in your lap and fiddles with the laptop on a pillow on his chest. You brush your fingers through his hair and he unconsciously gets situated better so you can continue. He grunts slightly when you stop causing you to giggle and start again. All situated you decide to watch the movie just as you are. The only time it’s a problem is when you’re both laughing so hard at Meg Ryan faking an orgasm at the diner.

“Ya never faked wi’ me hav’ ya?”

“Uhhh, you’ve got to be kidding, right? There’s no way…like…Harry, trust me, no, I have never faked an orgasm with you ever.”

“Better no’, jus’ so ya know, I’d know ma cock’d know…know how ya feel when ya cum…an’ I’d know,” he says looking up at your from your lap.

You raise your eyebrows and shake your head slightly, “Harry, I have no doubt that you’d know, I think you know my body better than I do.”

Grabbing the laptop so it doesn’t fall over, he leans up to kiss you. “Tha’s right, love, I know this body… an’ ‘ll know it tha rest of ma life.”

“You sure you won’t get bored of it after a while?”

He stops your hand in his hair and pulls it to his mouth kissing the inside of your ring finger, “Look at me… No. Answer to tha’ is…No. Ya my best friend, my lover, my mate…No. Just…No. Wan’ forever, wi’ ya, only wanna belong ta you. I love you.” He reaches up to thumb the bottom of your lip, “Don’ forget tha’.”

Blinking away tears, you release a breath and lean down to kiss him again, “I love you very much.”

You settle back against the couch and continue to play with his hair. It’s just as relaxing for you as it is for him, to be honest.

Twenty more minutes into the movie, your hand stills in his hair and he looks up to see that you’ve drifted off with your head leaning against a pillow against the back of the couch. He smiles and decides to finish out the film. So glad she’s relaxed he thinks to himself. He checks the time on his laptop and see’s it’s only 7:00 p.m. Deciding it’s your week to do as you please, sleep when you want and do what you want, he decides to leave you be as he watches Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan work out their own love story. It’s a love story…that thought starts his imagination to working on something special he can plan for the evening. He’ll have to improvise with no electricity, but maybe that would be part of the pleasure… part of being “unplugged.” By the time the credits roll on the movie he’s got a plan in his head and now he just needs you to stay asleep long enough for him to put it into play.

Thirty minutes later, you rouse to find yourself alone, stretched out on the couch with a blanket tucked around you and the Tiffany lamp moved to the sofa table in front of you ensuring there’s plenty of light around you. Harry must’ve gone to do some work and didn’t want you to wake up in the dark you think as you rub your eyes. You slip your legs off the couch and swivel to sit up. There’s a folded note tented next to the lamp with the letters LOML on the front.

You open the note to read, “Follow the candles. Follow the petals. Come find me.” You look behind you hoping upon hope that he hasn’t destroyed the flowers that Helen left. The flowers are sat on the dining table pretty as can be. You see that there are a couple of candles on the stairs leading up to the second floor, and, sure enough, there are little white petals trailing down the stairs back to you. You smile and lean down to pick up a few only to find they are pieces of white paper towel torn to look like flower petals. “So sweet,” you whisper aloud. Looking back at the note you see a postscript that says “If you get scared, call out and I’ll come get you.” You smile to yourself, biting the end of your finger, not because you’re nervous, but because you’re beaming inside. Following the “petals” you tiptoe on pink tipped toes up the steps toward your bedroom where there’s a glow and humming coming from the en suite bath along with the sound of running water. You peek around the doorframe to see his back as he’s facing the mirror and shaving. He reaches down to swish the razor in the water and looks up to catch your reflection as you stand in the doorway in his rumpled shirt and boxers. He stops, smiles and says, “Ya found me.”

You bite your bottom lip and nod, grabbing your hands behind your back and bouncing up on your toes, “I did. Whatcha doin’?”

“Thought I’d shave an’ maybe we could get a shower tagether, thought it migh’ be romantic wi’ tha candles, yeah?”

You walk to him and wrap your hands around his waist, “Can I help?” you ask kissing his shoulder blade rubbing your hand on his tummy.

“I’m almost done on my face, but you can help me shave down here,” he grabs your hand and runs it down his happy trail, “Needs a trim, ya think?”

“Well,” you say twisting around to look at his front, “yeah, but, babe, you have time off, it’s just me, you can let it grow, you don’t have to worry about it,” you say smoothing your fingers up and down the area. You smooth one finger along his jaw avoiding the left-over cream, “you can let this grow too, don’t have to worry about it around me, I love you anyway you are, but I’m especially happy when you’re relaxed and happy,” you say leaning forward to kiss just above his nipple, taking a moment to nip at it before you back away.

“Would ignore it, bu’, ya see,” he says with a cocky attitude, “don’ wanna whisker scratch ya up ov’r tha next few days.” He runs a towel over his face then leans down for a kiss and a smirk, “Plan on havin’ ma face in some very sensitive places, don’ wanna hurtcha.”

“Oh you do, do ya?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he says against your lips.

“So you want me to use the trimmer here,” you run you hand down his happy trail and into his boxers, “to here?”

He nods, “Trimmer’s behind ya,” he says will a smirk.

You hook your hands in the elastic of his boxers and pull them down keeping your eyes on his. Pulling the vanity bench out you sit down eye level with his waist. “So just a straight line across here and all the hair above it, right?”

He nods.

You look down and kiss half-way between his belly button and his cock and he groans. “Baby,” he says smoothing your hair off your neck and rubbing his thumb along your jaw.

You set about the job with the rechargeable trimmer, carefully and with concentration. A few moments later you stop and lean back to let the candlelight give you a better view. He runs his hand through his hair and looks down, “Wha’ d’ya think?”

Leaning forward you place a kiss at the base of his cock. “Baby right now I really don’t care, I’ve had your hardness on my lips and now, I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything else.”

“Wha’ do ya wan’, baby, hmm?”

“I want to take that shower your petals led me up here for…I want your hands on me and then, if you feel up to it, I want you to take these candles and me into the pink room and lemme feel that smooth face of yours on all those sensitive places you were talking about.”

“Mmmm…I like the sound of tha’,” he says nipping at your earlobe. “I wanna do s’much wi’ ya this week…wanna be deep inside ya as much as ya can handle…alright? Go ahead an’ jump in tha shower, I’ll run an’ grab tha other candles an’ turn off tha lamp an’ get tha pink room open. Bet Helen has tha room all stocked an’ fresh.”

You put your hand over your face, “Still can’t believe she knows about our room and has seen our pictures on the walls, I can’t think about it or I’ll never be able to face them again.”

“Together fo’ forty-five years, umm, ‘m pretty sure they hav’ a good idea how ta sex it up.”

“Harry!”

He smirks a chuckle and swats your bum, “Jump in the shower, be right back. You gon’ be alright here?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m good, but thank you for asking.”

You adjust the temperature on the shower and reluctantly strip off Harry’s boxers and tee, you love wearing his clothes so much, they’ve touched his skin and always smell so good. Not ready to have a wet head of hair with no electricity you use Harry’s hair clip to clip your hair on top of your head and step into the warm water. It sluices down your back a relaxing waterfall causing you to moan. You wash your face first and are just about to reach for some of the lavender and chamomile homemade soap Helen swears by when Harry joins you.

He turns you around to face him and cups your cheeks like a man on fire, “I love ya so much, ya make me s’happy an’, baby, I feel like ’m lying to ya an’… jus’ can’ fuckin’ stand it. Wanted ta give ya an unplugged night, so I…I…had Ron turn off tha main except fo’ the hot water an’ the fridge. Had no idea ya’d be upset by tha dark an’ ‘m so goddamn sorry. The real shit of it is tha’ I don’ know where the breaker is to flip it back on, but I c…”

“Shhh. Harry, I had a feeling and I’m not mad or upset. In fact, I think maybe I needed to realize that I’m not really as afraid of moving around in the dark as I was as a child and you’ve made the most amazing moments of our time here, I mean, I’ve been so relaxed I’ve fallen asleep twice…that’s something. Thank you for worrying about it being a lie, but I don’t think of it as you lying to me, you were creating a moment for us based off something I said,” you reach up to cup his jaw, “And that’s so sweet of you.”

“Well, texted Ron earlier an’ he an’ Helen’ll be back in tha mornin’ ta flip tha switch. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, honey, I’m not.”

“Lemme bathe ya, yeah?” he says against your lips, “There’s a surprise fo’ us in tha pink room. Can’ wait to try it out.”

“Oh, there is, huh? What is it?”

“Ya know I can’ tell ya, ‘s a surprise…jus’ saw it m’self a mo’ ago.”

“Hmmmm…Intrigued…,” you say, squinting. “Will it make me cum? Or rather, will it make us cum?”

“I’m definitely thinkin’ there’ll be orgasms ‘cause of it. Was wonderin’ wha’ ya thought abou’ pickin’ out a safeword. I mean, we can keep the colors if ya like, but I kinna like ya havin’ a word tha’ we’ve picked out. Wha’ d’ya think?”

“Honestly, I’ve been thinking about it too.”

“Ya have?” he says smiling and washing your breasts and tummy, he stops long enough to look up at you, “Have ya picked out a word?”

You nod smiling.

“Oh, ya HAVE been thinkin’ abou’ this,” he says with a smirk, “Ok, wha’s ya word.”

“Rainbow.”

He smiles, “I like it,” he says stand upright to meet your eyes. “Ya know I’d never hurt ya, right? ‘S jus’ in case it gets ta be overwhelming…”

“I know and I trust you with my body,” you thread your fingers through the hair at his neck, “with my pleasure.”

He presses his lips to yours, twists his head to slant his lips on yours. His tongue darts across your bottom lip and you open for him. Wanting him to deepen the kiss you wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself closer. His tongue darts into smooth along the side of yours and you lick along the bottom of his. His breath is warm, his saliva tasting faintly of the toothpaste he must’ve used before he shaved. His hands run around your back and pull you closer to him, one hand sliding down your back to pull your hips flush to his. You can feel his cock begin to harden and twitch.

“Mmmm,” you moan into his mouth as you take your turn to twist your head and slip your tongue along his top lip, pulling away only to dive back in for more. Standing on your tiptoes you pull hard on his neck wanting more of him.

He breaks away reluctantly only to take a breath, “Let’s get outta here, I wan’ more of ya.”

He turns off the water and you both step out. He grabs a towel and starts to dry you off smiling and kissing your body along the way. Holding onto his shoulders for balance as he dries your legs and feet, you bite your bottom lip. When you grab a towel to dry him off, he takes it away, “I can’t, babe, can’t have ya hands on me jus’ yet, wanna make this last.” Threading his fingers in yours he leads you to the doorway in the master closet leading to your special room. Truthfully, it’s never looked more beautiful covered in the flickering light of candles. There’s a basket of fresh fruit and a bouquet of flowers indicating that everything has been carefully taken care of. Your pictures on the wall still pull at your core, just remembering the day they were taken, the intimacy captured, you feel a rush of arousal flow through your already flooded system. You’re lost staring at one of your solo boudoir pictures when he wraps his arms around your shoulders and props his head on top of yours. “Angel.”

You turn in his arms, “I don’t know about that, H, I can be kinda naughty, wouldn’t you say?”

“Deliciously so…” he trails kissing down your neck. “Notice anything new, love?” You look over his should and see that attached to the wall is what looks like a grid of bars. You nod and he pulls back to look at your face, “Wha’ d’ya think?”

“Can I take a closer look?” you say with a smile.

He nods, “’Course.”

Biting your bottom lip you walk over to the wall. The bars are floor to ceiling and at the base on the floor is a leather covered step that’s about six inches off the ground, twelve inches wide and six feet long. You step up on it and reach above you to grab one of the bars, you pull on it slightly to test it’s strength.

“There’s a dimmable light ov’r ya, we can check it out later, but fo’ now ya look amazin’ in tha candlelight."

You turn around as he stalks toward you. When he reaches you, you’re eye to eye with him, the step raising you to a perfect height. “Hi,” you say biting your bottom lip again.

“Hi, baby. Ya interested?”

You nod, then remember, “Ah, I mean… yes, I’m interested.”

“Good job swee’heart, ya remembered your words.”

“Wha’s ya safe word?”

“Rainbow”

“Let’s start slow. Spread ya legs fo’ me. Now let’s try this,” he says taking one of your hands and having you grab the bar above your head over to the side. He does the same with the other, “eventually I’d like ta tie ‘em ta tha bar, but fo’ tanight, can ya jus’ hold on?”

“Yes,” you say swallowing and nodding your head.

“Good girl.” He steps back a couple of steps to take a look at you. Shaking his head he says, “Baby…s’fuckin’ beautiful.” He walks back to you and runs his finger down your body from your collarbones, between your breasts, over your tummy, all the way down to your swollen clit. “Ya wet fo’ me?”

“Harry…” you say gripping the cold metal bar.

“Wha’ love?”

“What’re you gonna do to me?”

“See, babe, tha’s the thing, I’m gonna do wha’ever I wan’ to.” He says going to the armoire and fetching the toy you bought in Paris.

You gulp and grip the bars tighter, bracing yourself for an onslaught of pleasure.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Try an’ keep ya legs open as wide as ya can fo’ me.”

“Ok,” you say spreading your legs as far apart as you can.

“‘S’ok if ya can’. I can always strap ya in wi’ these.”

You look down and see restraints he picked up from the back of the bench and your breathing picks up.

“I won’ be mad if ya need ‘em. I wanna push ya a little bit an’ it migh’ get intense,” he says, licking his lips as he stands up and meeting your eyes. “Eyes on me, Jezebel at all times. Understand?”

You gulp, “I understand.”

“Listen, ya gon’ wanna cum, bu’ don’ no matter how good it feels.” He sees the quizzical look on your face. “Ya body is gonna tell ya it needs ta cum bu’ ya have control over it if ya try.” He leans in to press a kiss to your lips and down your neck, his hand sliding to your breast, thumb moving back and forth across your nipple. His mouth finds the sensitive spot behind your ear and your hands on the bars tighten.

You’re turned on and overwhelmed with anticipation and you feel your wetness drip to the leather bench below.

He pinches your nipple hard, while still laving at your neck.

“Mmmm…hahhh!”

He does it again, but harder and you feel a gush of wetness coat your pussy. He kisses his way to the other side of your neck and finds your sensitive spot while his hand goes to your other breast and he pinches your nipple hard.

You’re panting and white knuckling the bar above your head and you feel yourself drip to the bench again.

His hands move up to your wrists and then slide down your arms, fingers caressing your sensitive armpit and you tremble. They slide down your body to your pussy and he cups you. “Ya drippin’, Jezebel. Seems like this was a good investment,” he says, smirking.

You can’t answer him. He’s so close…pressed right up against you, his lips nearly touching yours.

“Got ma hand all wet bu’ tha’s ok. Won’ let it go ta waste,” he says as he sucks his fingers in his mouth, licking you from his skin. When his tongue darts out and licks a stripe up his hand, you groan.

He bends down to pick up the vibrator and his phone, opening the app that lets him control it. He turns it on the lowest setting and trails it over your collarbones to your armpit and then to your nipples, turning up the speed as the toy circles your nipples. He turns the intensity back down as he moves down your tummy and then bypassing your pussy, he trails it along your inner thighs and goose bumps break out over your entire body.

You watch as he sucks the toy in his mouth and then lightly moves over your slit. “Mmmm…” you say, hips jerking up to get more of the sensation.

He looks up to meet your eyes as he slowly pushes the toy in. “Don’ cum. Know ya wan’ ta, but don’. ‘F ya can’ hold it, lemme know.”

“Ok,” you say breathlessly. You watch as his fingers move on the app adjusting the intensity up and down and it feels so good. You’re so worked up.

He sets the controls to automatically and randomly move the the intensity up and down and then back and forth and stands up, hands going to your breasts and fingers pulling your nipples. “How’s it feel?”

“Ahhhh….mmmm…good,” your voice quivers as the intensity goes up.

“Is it on our spot?”

“Hmmm…no.”

He reaches down between your legs and pushes the toy in further causing you to cry out. “How abou’ now?”

“Yes! Fuck! Yes!” You’re panting and you’re tummy is quivering. You can feel an orgasm on the way and you clench around the toy.

“Don’ cum. Ya can do this.”

“Mmmmm…ohhhhh….mmmm…I can…I c-can do this.”

“Good girl.” He moves the toy in and out against your spot, eyes biting into yours.

It feels good and you do want to cum but you also want to see if you can control your body and looking in his eyes is giving you something to focus on.

He finds the controls on the toy and sets it too high and he can tell you’re trying to stop the inevitable. He smiles and kisses you and then turns it off.

You slump back against the bars, chest heaving.

“Did s’good fo’ me, Jezebel. Gonna use ma tongue an’ fingers now. Same rules. Don’ cum.”

Your head thunks back against the bar. “Ok,” you pant out. You grimace as he pulls out the toy. You’re so sensitive. You watch as he goes to the kitchen area and cleans the toy, leaving it to dry on the counter and then he comes back to you.

You’re legs are shaking and trying to close.

“Ya need the cuffs?”

You nod. “Yes…please.”

He smirks as he cuffs your ankles. He’s really gonna blow your mind with this next surprise. He stands up and untangles your hands from the bars and lowers your arms to your sides. “Grip the bars behind ya, please.” He smiles as he watches you grab them. He moves to the wall and grabs a small remote that you didn’t notice. He smirks as he hits a button and the bench starts moving up.

You gasp. What the hell?!

He moves you up until he’s mouth level to your pussy and then you get it.

“Jesus, Harry.”

“Arms up, Jezebel an’ hold on tight.” He watches as you do as you’re told and his cock twitches at the way your tits move up with the movement. He takes a second to take in the beauty of this moment. His beautiful Jezebel - ankles cuffed, holding on, and suspended in the air just for him. His hands smooth up your silky thighs as your eyes meet his and you smile a blissed out smile. His middle and ring finger slowly slip inside you and he twists his hand around and smiles at your gasp. He curls his fingers and your hips jerk when he finds your spot. He curls his fingers slowly, just working you up little by little and then his tongue licks up and down your clit at the same pace. It’s slow but intense and your hands tighten on the bars above you.

“Mmmm…mmmm…mmmm…”

He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue moving against you slowly.

It’s slow and methodical. He knows your body like a book by now and he knows what to do to make you cum for him.

He never breaks your eyes contact. The whole time his mouth and fingers are working you, he never looks away.

You can feel another orgasm coiling and the urge to close your eyes and let it wash over you is strong, but you don’t.

He’s so, so proud of you but he’s ready to take it up another notch so he starts moving his fingers against your spot faster and then his tongue is working against you faster and your thighs start quivering.

You’re close. So, so close and you’re doing everything you can to hold it in and then he stops and you’re both panting.

He undoes the cuffs and lowers the bench back to the ground, picks you up and carries you to the bed, his body covering every inch of yours. “Did s’good fo’ me, Jezebel. Fuck…ya amazin’.”

“Hah…Hah…Hah,” you pant your breath out, “Harry, don’ be mad…Hah…I think I might cry, but…Hah…I’m not sad…it’s just so…Oh my god it’s just soooo much…,” you say with a sob leaning up to bury your face in his neck.

“D’ya need ya safeword, love?”

You nod frantically and pull back, “No…no…I don’t wanna stop, I’m just so overwhelmed,” tears dripping down, “I just love you so much and love this so much…I…I’m surprised how much I just never want the feeling to end. Does this kink make me…less?”

“Fuck no! No’ ta me! Ya could never be less ‘cause of wha’ we do,” he holds your chin in his palm, “It’s OUR kink ‘f tha’s wha’ ya wan’ call it. Fuckin’ love gettin’ ya off.”

“And I love getting you off,” you say searching his eyes as your body trembles with arousal.

“Then wha’s less abou’ tha’?” he says leaning down to place an open-mouthed kiss on your jaw that turns into a series of bites down your neck to your shoulder. The sensation adding fire to the burning sensation you feel in body…in your cunt. You can feel your body clamping down pushing wetness from your body. Your clit is feels like it’s been stung by a bee, the need, stinging the swollen bundle of nerves.

“Harrryy...,” you whimper, “I need…My body’s on fire for you. T…t…talk to me…please, t-tell me.”

He pulls back from working his way down your collarbones to your breast and smirks, “Ya wan’ me ta talk naughty ta ya, hmm? Tha’ it?”

You close your eyes and open them back as an answer to his question, “Yhheess…,” you confirm.

He smirks and crawls up your body to your ear, “Ya wan’ hear abou’ how hard my cock is fo’ ya, hmm? Abou’ how I wake up hard as a rock fo’ ya…? How I love smellin’ ya pussy on ma skin, on ma lips…? Tha’ I think abou’ doin’ this…,” he says pressing his middle finger in your channel deep and then swirling it around, “sometimes when I’m on stage, yeah, I hav’ ta focus ta remember lyrics sometimes when I see ya dancin’ because all can think abou’ is this cunt, hot an’ wet fo’ me.”

You roll your head back digging into the mattress, as he kisses down from your ear down to your breast to suck and pop first one nipple then another before kissing up to the other ear, “Think abou’ how sweet ya taste, an’ how pink ya pussy gets when ya all wet an’ ready ta fuck.” He stops for just a moment to breathe into your ear and lower his voice, “Love tha’ ya squirt fo’ me. Tha’ ya gush on me an’ ya can’t hold it back.” You whimper at that comment, his finger still in your pussy, “Jesus, babe…s’wet, ya like dirty talk, hmmm?”

“Gonna cummmm….,” you sob on a long groan.

“No’ yet, babe, hold it fo’ me, wan’ inside ya first,” he says as he settles between your legs, popping your ankles on his shoulders and leaning forward, “Ya ready fo’ ya cock?”

“Yes, Harry! Yes!”

He lines up, looks you in your eyes, “I love ya,” he says as he pushes in deep. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust or to signal you want him to move, he can’t because once he reaches the bottom your orgasm blasts through.

“Harry!” you scream out clenching down on him tight. Tears of pleasure and relief streaming down the sides of your face as the contracting of your abdominal muscles takes over your whole body. The sharp pulsing sucks him in deeper.

“Greedy little pussy, suckin’ me deep,” he pushes one leg off his shoulder to meet the other. He holds them together, pressed to the side while your body twists at the waist. His abdomen is pressed against the back of your thighs changing the angle and making you tighter on him. He snaps in and out with one hand on your thigh and one on your bum cheek, relentlessly thrusting, “Come on, love, know ya got mo’ than tha’ fo’ me. ‘M slippin’ in an’ out so easy, know ya love this!” He moves just right to where on every thrust this cock head hits your g-spot. “One mo’, love, give me one more good one…,” he pleads.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop…” you chant just before you can’t keep your eyes open any longer and the whole world blitzes white.

Harry pushes in one last time and stills as his orgasm overtakes him. He lets out a long groan before falling forward panting to catch his breath.

He collapses on the bed next to you, still panting, his hand running through his hair slowly. “Tha’ was intense…Jesus, ya ok?” He asks, scooting closer and pressing a kiss next to your ear, his hand on your neck, thumb rubbing over your jaw.

You turn towards him and smile. “I’m good,” you tell him as you try and catch your breath. “So good.”

He kisses your mouth softly. “Good. I’ll get ya cleaned up an’ then we can cuddle yeah?”

“Ok.”

He smiles softly at you as he cleans you up and then leans over to pick you up and carry you to your bedroom and laying you on the bed. “Lemme just grab the candles and make sure all the candles downstairs are out, yeah? Wan’ some water?”

You nod. After a few minutes you hear the secret door close and then he’s crawling into bed next to you.

He teaches to the nightstand and grabs a bottle of water and passes it to you.

“Thank you,” you say unscrewing to the cap and taking a few drinks before passing it to him. He finishes it and places it back on the nightstand.

You roll over onto your side and he snuggles up behind you, his hand finding your tattoo and fingers slowly moving back and forth over the skin under your boob. You smile at the gesture. Ever since you’ve gotten his initials and the bee inked, his fingers automatically gravitate there.

“Ya ok?” He asks, lips trailing softly down your neck.

“Yes, I’m good.”

“Tha’ was intense, yeah?”

“It was, yeah. Good, though,” you say turning your head to meet his eyes.

He presses a kiss to your lips. “Was really good, Jesus, can’ stop thinkin’ abou’ it.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Hey…how did the bench work if the power is out?”

He laughs his breathy little laugh against your neck. “Knew we’d wanna use tha’, so I made sure tha’ the breaker for tha’ wasn’t turned off,” he says, placing a warm kiss to your neck.

“Oh my god…I should’ve known,” you say giggling and lightly swatting his arm.

“Had ta put a new breaker in for the pink room…s’it all worked out.”

You smile and snuggle back into him. “Wait…so the lights work in there too?”

He chuckles. “Yeah…everythin’ but the furnace.”

You shake your head at him. “Thank you for letting me unplug. I needed that.”

He kisses you on the nose. “My pleasure. Ya wanna go ta Marcy’s for brekkie? Maybe visit with the Chapman’s and Bennett and Thomasina? I gotta an errand ta run.”

You curl your fingers around his. “I’d love that, but what’re you up to?”

He chuckles. “Goodnight Jezebel.”

You sigh. “Goodnight Harry.”

****30 minutes later****

You’d fallen into a deeply sated and contented sleep on Harry’s chest, hair a tousle on his shoulder. Your rest included a rather unladylike snore, that he thought was utterly adorable. He realized it was late, but it just couldn’t wait, he needed to make a phone call to Ron.

“Hey, Ron, so sorry ta bother ya so late. You an’ Helen doin’ alright?”

“Harry, son, how are ya? Is everythin’ alright?,” Ron says with a slight bit of concern.

“Oh, everythin’s fine. Like I said, ‘m sorry ta bother ya so late.”

Harry could hear Helen in the background, "Ronnie, is that the kids? Is everything alright at the cottage? How’s my girl?”

Harry couldn’t help the chuckle.

“It’s Harry, everythin’s fine ‘Elen, kids are ok, sweetie, jus’ some business we need ta talk abou’.” Ron says away from the phone, “Ok, I will, love. Harry? Ya there?”

Grinning to himself, “Yeah, I’m here an’ our girl is doing great,” he says thinking about her sleeping soundly in their bed.

“Good, tha’s good ta hear. ‘Elen sends her love an’ we can’t wait to see ya. What’s on ya mind, son?”

“Well…umm…I need some help lookin’ fo’ somethin’ in town, but I need know it’ll be private, very private, because it’s important…one of the most important things I’ll ever do in ma life…an’…well…I..I’m hopin’ you’ll help me…”

[anglophiletraveler]

Chapter 34

Shameless

Written by Billy Joel

A big thanks to everyone who keep reading this little story of mine.  I really do appreciate your loyalty and patience.  Thanks and love to Miss Karen!

To Demelza’s surprise, an Uber driver arrived later that afternoon to take her to her teacher for a private lesson , and then proceeded to take her to rehearsal with the orchestra.  Ross had checked out the driver thoroughly and also made sure that he had a vehicle large enough for a cello. Ross had also instructed the driver to take Demelza anywhere she wanted to go, and  make any stops that she needed to make.  Ross was going to pick her up later in the evening after rehearsal as usual. 

The next day the same Uber driver showed up and they did the same thing that day.  Demelza just shook her head at the Uber driver, “This is ridiculous! I’m starting to feel like a princess!”  

The driver chuckled at her statement, “Well ma'am I was instructed by Mr. Poldark himself to treat you just like Lady Di, so your wish is me command until next Wednesday.”

“Next Wednesday! Bloody hell!  This is embarrassing! Well Mr. O’Brien I appreciate all of your help in this endeavour, and if I win the audition, I’ll make sure you get a couple of free tickets to a performance.”

“Hey, me wife would luv that!  She’s always complaining that I never take her anywhere!  It’s nice to see a girl from Cornwall make it big ‘ere in London.  Yer folks must be mighty proud of ya.  Alright, ‘ere we are Miss Demelza.  I’ll be right ‘ere until you’re done with your lesson.”

Demelza cringed when the driver mentioned her folks.  She’s gotten used to just letting it go instead of bringing up the whole sorry story.  “Thank you Mr. O’Brien, I’ll be out in a couple of hours.”

“I’ll be right ‘ere.”  

******************************

Verity had called Ross Friday while  he was having lunch to catch up on any family gossip.  He told her about Demelza’s audition coming up and how he had hired an Uber driver to take her wherever she needs to go.

The only thing left to worry about is making sure she’s eating properly and she doesn’t try to live on Chinese take out for the next four or five days. “I’ve thought about hiring a professional chef to come in and cook some meals for us.  I can do some cooking, but not a whole lot.  I want to make sure that she eats healthy,” Ross stopped talking when Jenny entered his office with some files.  “Thank you Jenny, just set them on the table for now and I’ll get to them when I’m done on the phone.  Oh, and would you mind shutting the door behind you. Ta!”

Jenny nodded at him and did as he asked and left the office, closing the door behind her.  She had caught just the tail end of what he was talking about.  She knew that he had hired an Uber driver for Demelza, and now it sounded like he was going to hire a chef.  She couldn’t believe all of the money that Ross was spending on Demelza for this one audition.  It didn’t make sense to her at all.  Ross had been keeping his door closed more than he used to since the two of them had their little spat when Ross raised his voice at her.  She had felt their working relationship had changed and not for the better. She had been very down since they quarrelled and she didn’t know what to do about it.  

************

“Ross, don’t hire a chef, let me help and cook some meals.  I can bring them over and you can heat them up whenever you are ready to eat.  Home cooked meals would be so much better for Demelza, and I want to help out in some way,” Verity told Ross.

“That’s very generous of you, Verity, but a lot of work.  Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course Ross!  And it’s really not that much work.  I can actually fix them at your place, unless that would be too distracting for Demelza, and then I can just pop them in the freezer or the fridge!  Problem solved!” Verity was so excited about theis idea.  She liked to feel useful when it came to her family but she didn’t have the opportunity very often since she was still at odds with her father.

Ross was now up pacing in his office, “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind, that would be wonderful!  If you make a shopping list I could have the groceries delivered to the house and then you don’t have to haul them around.”

“Let me think about that and I’ll get back with you.  Ross, does Demelza have any food allergies?”

Ross’s eyebrows furrowed, “No, none that I know of.  Good God an allergic reaction is the last thing that Demelza needs.  I’ll double check with her and get back with you.  Thank you so much for doing this, Verity. That will be a big help.  And I know that Demelza will really appreciate it.  I’ll talk to you soon.  Love you, Ver.”

“Oh I love you too, Ross,” Verity ended the conversation.

Ross let out a huge sigh after he hung up with Verity, and rubbed his face with his hands.  Verity helping out with the cooking was actually a big load off his mind.  He knew whatever she fixed would be delicious and healthy for Demelza.  Everything for the next few days leading up to Demelza’s audition was falling into place.  He had arranged the Uber driver, he had emailed Demelza’s private instructor and told her that if she felt Demelza needed extra time with her or a private practice room, he would take care of all of the costs, and now Verity was helping out with the food.  Demelza won’t have to worry about a thing!

**********************

Ross sat in his car at the music hall car park waiting for Demeiza to come out after rehearsal. He was scrolling on his phone looking for a larger home for them but everything that suited their needs in London, was unfortunately out of their price range so he started to look further out. 

He didn’t mind a small commute, but he wondered how Demelza would feel about it.  But more and more it was looking like in order to get what they wanted, at a price they could afford, they were going to have to give in on the commute. Ross made a pretty good salary at his firm and Demelza’s salary was in the middle for a classical musician.  Unfortunately, the London classical musicians weren’t known to make a lot of money, which always boggled Ross’s mind.

Ross had already picked up Demelza’s supper to save time, so the car smelled like Little Italy when Demelza opened the car door.  “Mmmm something smells good,” Demelza leaned in to give Ross a kiss.

Ross smiled back at her, “Oh that would be my natural, irresistible scent that you’re smelling.  I’m shocked that you haven't noticed it before? I’m hurt Demelza!”  Ross laid his hand over his heart faking his pain.

A laughing Demelza looked in the back seat and saw the take out bag, “Your natural scent, eh?  What do you do, use marinara sauce as after shave?”

“Hey I slaved all afternoon cooking that lasagna I’ll have you know.  I just re-used the pan and the bag from Gino’s,” Ross continued his ruse as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Ahhh I see. No Chinese?” Demelza asked.

“No, milady I am going to attempt to keep you fed and healthy until your audition which means no Chinese take out,” Ross was trying to use his stern voice, but that never worked with Demelza.

Demelza’s mouth dropped open, “What!  No Chinese??  But Ross, I neeeed it!”

Ross took Demelza’s hand, “I am going to make sure that you eat nutritiously until your audition, and Verity is going to help me.”

“Ross, what on earth are you talking about?”

“Verity is going to cook up some meals for us for the freezer, and when it comes time to eat, all I have to do is warm it up in the oven.  Nutritious and made with love, home cooked meals.  How does that sound?  Hmmm?” Ross glanced at Demelza to try to see how she felt about it.

“Ross, you called Verity for help?  You really shouldn’t have done that!  I can cook a bloody meal for crying out loud!  This really is just too … “ Demelza was starting to get upset, which was the last thing Ross wanted.

“Hey, hey, hey settle down.  I didn’t call Verity and ask her to cook.  We were just having a chat and I was filling her in on your audition and everything, and she volunteered to cook.  Baby, she wants to do this, she wants to feel useful.  Really, I told her that she didn’t need to but I got the feeling that she’s feeling a little low right now.  She still hasn’t heard from her father, so I think this is her way of keeping busy and doing some good for someone else. Alright?  Don’t be mad, sweetheart,” Ross brought Demelza’s hand to his lips to kiss it.  

Demelza looked at Ross all squinty-eyed, “Are you sure she wants to do this?”

Ross was shaking his head, “Yes, my love.  I would never ask Verity to do this.  In fact, I was thinking of hiring a chef.”

“Bloody hell Ross,” Demelza was looking down and Ross could swear her lower lip was sticking out in a pout, “Sometimes you are just too much.  I’m not used to someone doing all this kind of stuff for me… hiring an Uber, having meals brought in, taking…”

Ross pulled into their driveway, and turned the car off.  “Taking care of you?  Demelza, I love you, and I love taking care of you when you need some extra TLC.  I love that you’re an independent woman and you love your career, but sometimes… sometimes, I like to take care of you. Everyone needs a little bit of care once in a while.  Even I do.  So, just let me help you get through this time, yeah?”

Demelza gave a weak smile to Ross, “Yes, Ross.”  She leaned into him and met his lips with hers.  “I love you, Ross.”

“I love you too, Demelza.”

*************************** 

Saturday after Demelza came home from her lessons, Demelza decided that she didn’t like the acoustics of the kitchen anymore, so Ross carried the cello upstairs for her.  It was obvious that she was on edge, so Ross didn’t question anything she asked.  

“Demelza love, would you like me to warm you up something…?”

Demelza cut him off, “No, please Ross, stop!  Enough with the food!  I’m fine, I don’t need to eat.  If I’m hungry, I’ll fix myself something.”   Demelza massaged her temples like she had a headache.  Ross almost asked her if she wanted something for a headache, but he thought twice about it.

Ross’s eyebrows lifted and he had a small smile, “Alright love, I’ll leave you alone.  I’m sorry.  Just let me know if you need anything.  I’ll be downstairs.”

Later in the early evening, Demelza finally came downstairs and plopped down on the couch in exhaustion, strands of hair falling out of her messy bun.  Ross took a drink of his beer and looked at her out of the corner of his eye.  He wasn’t sure if he should say anything, or if he should put his arm around her, so he just continued watching the movie that he had on the telly.   After a bit Ross’s phone dinged and he started texting back.  

After a couple minutes of going back and forth, Ross spoke, “Um Dwight wants to know if I want to go to the pub.  Do you mind if I go?”

Demelza had a frown on her face, “Is Caroline going?”

“No, she’s at a work do.  I don’t have to go..”

“No, go ahead, but you should get a lyft because you’ve been drinking already,” Demelza replied.

“Dwight’s picking me up,” he picked up his phone and answered Dwight.  “I better go change.”  He leaned over and kissed Demelza on the temple and ran upstairs.

***********************

Ross came back downstairs to get his coat after he changed his clothes.

Demelza looked at what he was wearing now, “Why are you dressed up?”

Ross’s brows furrowed, “What?  I’m not dressed up.  I’m just wearing a button up and jeans?”

“You look awfully dressed up to me,” Demelza said.

“I don’t know why, I’ve worn this shirt a hundred times and it’s like 10 years old.  I’m pretty sure I bought it when I was in uni.  Besides, it’s not like I’m going out to pick up chicks or something, it’s just me and Dwight going out to the fucking pub!”  Ross was starting to lose his temper.  But he was grateful for the excuse to get out of the house.

“Well, I didn’t think you were going out to pick up chicks or whatever.  Are you? Never mind,” Demelza rolled her eyes.

“Honey if you don’t want me to go out, I won’t,” Ross said.

Demelza smacked the pillow she had in her lap, “No, just go.  Have a good time.”  They both heard Dwight beeping the horn.

“Alright.  Do you… want me tooo bring you anything?” Ross almost hated to ask after their conversation earlier about food.

“No, I'm good.  Oh wait! Ross?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you bring me some of those big onion rings?”

Ross smiled and leaned down to kiss her, “Of course, love.  I’ll see ya later.”

Demelza just gave him a weak smile.  He ran out the door while he still could.  As soon as the door closed, Demelza burst into tears.  She hugged the pillow and just had a good cry.

**************************

Ross jumped into Dwight’s car and left out a big sigh.  “Thank God you texted me Dwight.  Get me the fuck outta here!”

Dwight laughed at him, “Oh that doesn’t sound good.”

Ross shook his head, “Just go man before an alien’s head comes through the bloody door!”

*************************

Dwight and Ross were in their usual corner booth, eating burgers and drinking beer.  Just the medicine Ross needed for his mood.

“I don’t know Ross, I guess she’s just feeling a little smothered by your efforts right now.  And I totally get that you’re just trying to help her any way you can.  Plus she’s probably a ball of nerves right now thinking about the audition and …. Maybe she’s worried that she’s going to let you down if she doesn’t get to move up a chair?”  Dwight was trying to help his best friend see things from a different light.

“Let me down?  She’s not going to let me down, I’m more worried about her letting herself down and being too hard on herself.  This means a lot to her,” Ross attacked his burger as if it was the secret of life.

Dwight asked, “How do you think she will take it if she doesn’t get it?”

Ross finally swallowed, “Honestly, I really don’t know.  I’m kind of worried about it.  I haven’t seen her in this type of situation.  And I’m sure that I’ll fuck it up somehow by saying something stupid.”

Dwight laughed, “Of course you will mate, because you’re just a man!  Like the rest of us neanderthals!  I guess just give her some time and space if it turns out that way.  And if all else fails, you can always sleep on my couch!”

Ross wadded up a napkin and threw it at Dwight, “Thanks a lot mate!  I’ll keep that in mind.”

The waitress came over to collect their empties, “You boys want another round?”

Dwight spoke up first, “No thanks Stella, I think we’ve had enough.  If Ross here gets any more tipsy, he might say something stupid when he goes home, and we certainly don’t want that to happen, do we Stella!”

She giggled, “No we do not.  Gotta keep the little woman happy!  So are you ready for your checks now?”

“Oh wait Stella!  I’m supposed to take the little woman, er, Demelza, some big onion rings home, so can you put an order in for me, yeah?  And we might as well have another round while we wait. Ta.” Ross gave Dwight a smirk after the waitress left, “Oh come on mate, it’s just one more pint.”

Dwight gave Ross a stern look, “Alright.  Just one more pint.  “If you’re lucky maybe the onion rings will smooth things over for you.”

Ross finished off his burger, and tried to steer the conversation to Dwight, “So how are things between you and Caroline.  Any wedding bells yet?”

Dwight put his hand up, “Nooooo let’s not rush things.  I’ll see how things turn out with you and Demelza first before I give up my freedom permanently.”

Ross raised his eyebrows at his friend and laughed, “Fuck, better not let Caroline hear you say that!  I’m sure she’s picking out her ring as we speak.  She’s already brought some bridal magazines and this big notebook to Demelza to help her plan our wedding.  I bet she’s got a big notebook hidden away for your wedding.  You just wait and see my friend.  Besides, I’m not afraid of Demelza.  This is all just, you know, part of getting to know each other, experiencing things together.  I mean, I guess I could’ve waited a little bit longer to propose, but really what would a couple more months prove?”

The waitress walked up to the table and set down the onion rings, “Here ya go, one fresh order of onion rings and here are your checks.”

The boys slid their credit cards into the fake leather folders, so the waitress could go pay their bills.

“You have a point, a couple months might not have made a difference, but maybe a year or two would’ve,” Dwight suggested.

Ross’s eyebrows raised up again, “A year or two?  Really? I don’t know man, I just, it just felt right to do it now.  Plus with mum being sick, I just didn’t want to put it off.”

“So you proposed because your mom has cancer?  Ross, that's not a good reason to propose!” Dwight said.

“No! Not at all.  I didn’t propose because of mum’s cancer. After we talked about the kid thing, I felt better about things.  Demelza’s not sure about having kids, but she’s not ruling it out, and I’m fine with that.  As far as mom goes, I just want to have the wedding before her surgery so that she can enjoy it.  I love Demelza and I love how we are together,” Ross explained to his friend.

Stella the waitress came back with their credit cards and receipts for the guys to sign.  “Thanks Stella,” they both said.  “No problem guys.  See ya next time!”

“Make sure you tip her well,” Dwight said.  

“I know, I know, I know dad! Jezus!  I’m going to call a Lyft for us because you’re not in any condition to drive anymore,” Ross told his friend.

Dwight nodded, “Yes, you’re probably right.  It wouldn’t look good for an A&E doctor to get pulled over for being over the limit.”

Ross giggled, “No it would not Dr. Enys!”

**********************

The Lyft car pulled into Ross’s driveway, and Ross paid his share of the ride. It was obvious that he was in his cups,  “Well, my dear friend, thank you for a wonderfully, fun evening out so we could solve all of the bloody problems of the bloody world once again.  And thank you for being my friend all of these years.  I love, love you like a brother,”  he gave Dwight a big hug and kiss.  “Thank you Ross, I love you man!”  Ross looked at the driver, “You take care of this man, you hear me!  He’s a bloody important doctor and the world needs his hands!”

The Lyft driver was trying not to laugh at the friends, “Don’t worry mate, I’ll get him home safe and sound.”

Ross finally got out of the car and waved them off.  The car stopped and the back window rolled down, “Ross, don’t forget Demelza’s onion rings!”

“Oh fuck thanks mate!  I love you man!” Ross grabbed the onion rings and walked up to the front door and opened it carefully in case Demelza was practising.  He peeked his head through the door to assess the situation.  No sign of Demelza so he tiptoed into the room and kicked off his shoes and hung up his coat.  He heard a cello, so Demelza must be at it again.  But this time he heard her playing a different song… it was a Beatle’s song!  Ross smirked because it reminded him of the first time he ever laid eyes on Demelza in New York.  He let out a big breath that he didn’t realise that he had been holding in.   He made his way upstairs with the onion rings.  He saw Demelza playing and leaned up against the door frame to watch her.  She must have showered earlier because her hair was down and wild and flowing around her shoulders as she played.  She was wearing nothing but a lace camisole and some knickers.  Her eyes were closed and she was lost  in the music.  Ross’s eyes started to tear up because this moment in time was the most beautiful he’d ever witnessed.   The song came to an end and Demelza just sat there before she opened her eyes and let out a big sigh.  She then opened her blue eyes and saw Ross standing there and tilted her head and smiled.  

“That was beautiful.  You are beautiful,” Ross stated.

“Are you drunk Ross?” she smiled.

“Maybe a little.  But I don’t have to be sober to know when I’m witnessing something very beautiful.”

Demelza gasped, “Oh Ross.  I’m so sorry that I was so mean to you earlier,” She got up and walked over to him.

“I know ya are.  It’s okay, I understand.  I’ll try not to smother you,” he leaned down and kissed her.

When the kiss ended Demelza looked deep into his eyes and said, “Are those my onion rings?”

Ross couldn’t help but snort and laugh, “Yes, these are your onion rings.”

Demelza grabbed the bag and put one in her mouth, “Mmmmm so good.  Thanks for getting them for me.”

Ross watched her enjoy her onion rings, “Your wish is my command milady.  Are you feeling better than you were earlier?”

Her eyes darkened again, “Yeah, I’m just so stressed and worried, and feeling tight.  The shower helped.”

“Along with playing something different than your audition piece?”

“Yeah that did help. A lot.  You look like you’re ready for bed.  How much did you drink?” Demelza asked.

“Enough for us to get a Lyft.  And yes, I am ready for bed.  I’m exhausted and I have no idea why.  Are you ready for bed?” Ross’s eyes were getting droopy.

Demelza shook her head, “Mmm hmmm after I eat these.  Go on ahead and I’ll make sure everything is locked up downstairs.”

Demelza went downstairs to make sure everything was locked up while she munched on her beloved onion rings.  

Ross was in bed half asleep when she came back.  He looked up and saw her eating her last onion ring, “How are you going to sleep with all of that grease sitting in your stomach?”

Demelza shrugged, “I don’t know.  I don’t remember having trouble before.  They’re worth it though!”  She turned off the light and snuggled down in bed with Ross, while he wrapped his arm around her.  She looked up and kissed him, “Goodnight Ross.  I love you.”

“Goodnight babe, I love you too.”

*****************************

Sunday morning brought another day of practise, and frustration.  Ross and Seamus sat patiently on the couch, although if there was a hint of a wrong note, Seamus was covering his ears with his paws and whined.  Ross shushed him so Demelza wouldn’t hear him.  Ross felt bad for Demelza.  She was working on her trouble spots today and that just seemed to bring out her frustration even more.  He would listen and he couldn’t hear any difference from one attempt to the other, but he didn’t tell her that.

Around noon there was a knock at the door and Ross ran to answer it so as not to disturb Demelza.  He opened it and was completely surprised at seeing James and Henry, Demelza’s former roommates at the door.  Ross just stood there and finally said, “Hi guys, how can I help you.”.

James raised his hand, “Uh hi Ross.  Demelza called us and asked us to come over.  Can we come in?”  Henry was giving Ross an evil eye.  

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know.  Sure, come on in, come on in.  Let me take your coats.”

“Thanks Ross,” James was looking at Ross like he should know what’s on his mind and waved his hand, “Soooo where is she?”

Ross covered his mouth and looked at the two in front of him, “Right, she’s upstairs rehearsing.  Can I get you a beer or something to drink before you go up?”

James smiled, “Sure, I’ll take a beer, thanks.”

Henry looked at Ross, “I’ll just have a bottle of water if you have one, thank you.”  Awkward.

“Sure, come on into the kitchen,”  Ross led the way and gave them the drinks they asked for, and showed them the stairs even though it was pretty obvious where they were.  It didn’t take long before he heard Demelza squeal at the sight of her former roommates.  

A couple of hours later Ross thought he should feed the musicians, so he started work on some spaghetti, garlic bread and a salad.  There was some leftover bread pudding from Verity so he set that out as well.  He texted Demelza to let her know that lunch was ready for the masses.  Soon the three of them were filling up their plates.

“Dig in guys.  There’s plenty for everyone!” Demelza came over to give him a kiss, “Thanks Ross.”  “Of course, it was nothing and I figured everyone might need some refuelling.  How is practise going?”

Henry spoke up, “Mmmm this is so good Ross.  Demelza is more than ready for her audition.  She needs to quit freaking herself out.  Actually, I think she needs to slow down the rehearsing because she doesn’t want to peak too soon.”  Ross’s eyes got big at that statement and cleared his throat, “Um no, she wouldn’t want that to happen.”  Everyone looked at Ross and burst out laughing.

*****************

A couple of hours later, Henry and James gave Demelza instructions for the rest of the week until the audition.  They came downstairs to leave to find Ross and Seamus asleep on the couch, with Star Wars on low volume playing on the tele.  

Demelza smiled while she was getting the coats for the guys, “They look so sweet together!”  She stepped outside with her friends.  “You guys, I really appreciate your help today.  I feel so much better.  I don’t think there’s anything else I can do to prepare myself for the audition.”

“Nope, you’ve done all you can do Demelza.  Have confidence in yourself.  You’re a beautiful cello player,” Henry said.  He gave Demelza a forlorn look and gave her a hug.

“Henry’s right.  Save yourself for Wednesday.  You’ve got this!  Walk in there and kick ss ass!  Now we  better get going.  Love ya kid,” James gave Demelza a hug.

“Aww thanks you guys.  Get out of here before I start crying,” Demelza waved them off and went back inside as they backed out of the driveway.

She took another look at her two guys on the couch.  She moved Seamus off so that she could get close to Ross.  He woke up running his hand over his face, “What’s happening?”

“Nothing.  James and Henry have left so I thought I would join you.  Do you mind?” Demelza was using that voice that’s soft like a purr.

Ross smiled and sat up, “No not at all.  Come here closer.”

Demelza got closer and raised Ross’s t-shirt so that she could rub her face in his chest hair.

“Judas Demelza!” Ross yelled, “Your nose is so feckin cold!!”

She started laughing, “I know it’s early but I’m exhausted and ready for bed.  Care to join me?”

“That depends!”

“On what?” Demelza asked.

“Are your feet as cold as your nose?” Demelza got a shocked look on her face and playfully punched him.

“Alright wanker, I’m going to bed, you let your boy here outside and lock up,” Demelza ran upstairs.

“Hmmmmm,” Ross squinted his eyes at her wondering what she was up to.

********************

Demelza was slipping into bed when Ross entered the bedroom.  He sat down on the bed and started to undress, “So how are you feeling about everything?”

“Strangely enough, I feel pretty confident about things after Henry and James came over.  It felt good just working with them again.  I didn’t realise how much I missed them.”

Ross took her hand. His voice was soft, “I’m sorry love.  I know that connection hasn’t been as strong since you’ve moved in here with me.  I sometimes forget that they were more to you than just flat mates. We need to have them over more often.”  He got up to go brush his teeth and wash his face.

“Aw that’s sweet of you.  I do miss them at times like these.”

Ross turned out the ceiling light and slipped into bed, “I’m exhausted and I don’t know why.  I haven’t done much this weekend.”

“Ross, you’ve done a lot this weekend, not to mention looking after me during the week.  And I’ve repaid you by being bitchy to you, and I apologise.  It’s just that I’m so stressed over this but I shouldn’t take it out on you,” Demelza wrapped her arm around Ross’s waist.

“Oh it’s alright, I understand.  I just wanted to help as much as I could since I can’t help with your music.  Although it all sounded wonderful to me.  Too bad you can’t play something like a Beatle’s song,” he picked up her hand and kissed her palm.

“That would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?” Demelza let out a big yawn, both of them chuckling. “Ross, do you mind if we don’t…”

“Shhh my love.  Go to sleep.  You need your rest and so do I actually.  I’ve been thinking about Jenny and what I should do about her, and I still haven’t come up with an answer.  It breaks my heart.  I don’t think I’ve led her on, at least not on purpose.”

Demelza’s hand was playing with his chest hair, “I’m sure you haven’t led her on.  You’re just such a great guy that she’s fallen for you like every other woman out there.”

Ross rolled his eyes, “Yeah right.  I just think of her as a sister, ya know, since we’ve known each other for so long.  What do you think I should do?  Should I talk to her about it?”

“No, just give it a while, maybe it will just blow over,” She ran her cheek over his chest hair, one of her favourite things to do.

“Heyyyy there’s that cold nose again!”

She raised up to kiss him and nuzzle her cold nose in his neck, causing him to yell out again!  “Why is your nose so cold?”

“Maybe because the rest of me is sooo hot!”

“You keep talking like that and I’m not going to let you fall asleep!” Ross warned.  Then he yelled out again, “Fucking hell your feet are even colder!  Put some socks on, woman!”

************************************ 

Monday Night:

Ross is waiting for Demelza to get out of orchestra rehearsal at the music hall.  Things seem to be running a little late.  Musicians begin to slowly trickle out of the door.  Some wave to Ross in passing, most of them know him by now.  Ross is beginning to get nervous that Demelza hasn’t come out yet.  He looks at his watch again and it's been at least 30 minutes since the last musician came out, but no Demelza.  Finally he just gives up and calls James to see if he knows what’s going on with Demelza.

“Ross?  Is that you?” James asked.

“James, hi yeah it’s me, Ross.  Sorry to bother you but Demelza hasn’t come out of rehearsal yet, and I’m getting worried,” Ross’s eyes were dark with worry and James could hear the panic in his voice.

“Oh yeah, the maestro is talking with all of the people who are auditioning for the cello chair.  She should be out shortly.  Don’t worry,” James replied.

“Oh of course, but she was in rehearsal wasn’t she?” Ross asked.

James chuckled, “Yes Ross, she hasn’t been kidnapped or anything, calm down mate.”

Ross sighed, “Yes, right, okay thanks mate.”

“Sure, no worries.  Oh and Ross, I think this is going to be a close decision Wednesday, so be prepared in case she doesn’t make it.  Just be calm, let her cry or whatever it is that she feels like doing.  Call me if you need me, yeah?”

Ross was shaking his head as if James can see him, “Yeah, thanks for the advice.  Oh here she comes.   I’ll talk to you later.  Thanks James.”

Demelza got in the car and kissed Ross, “Sorry I’m late.  The maestro had a meeting with those of us who are going to audition.  I would’ve texted you if I had known.”

“It’s alright, I was just starting to go out of my mind is all,” Ross was trying to make light of it, but he really had been worried.

“Aw I’m sorry, babe.  Who were you talking to on the phone at this hour?” Demelza asked.

“What? Oh, James.”

“James, why did he call you?” Demelza asked.

Ross shook his head, “He didn’t call me, I called him, because I was worried about you!  I wasn’t joking when I said I was out of my mind with worry.  But he told me about your meeting and …”

“Aww babe, that’s so sweet!  Now can I have my Chinese? I’m starving!” Demelza begged.

Ross tossed his head back, “Oh God Demelza, you’re killing me!  Yes, you can have your bloody Chinese!”

Demelza laughed out loud at her fiance.  Ross shook his head at her and couldn’t help but laugh along with her as they headed for the Chinese restaurant.

*******************

Ross and Jenny were finishing up some paperwork that needed to be done for a nonprofit that Ross was in the process of helping out.  

“So just let me know when you hear back from Mr. Tonkin on that please,” Ross asked.

Jenny shook her head in agreement, “Of course Ross.  Will there be anything else?”

“Oh yes, I’m off tomorrow.  I’m going to be with Demelza for her audition,” Ross replied.

Jenny’s eyes got big, “Oh, okay.  I didn’t realise that you were going to the audition.  I’ll put that on my calendar.  I hope that she does really well.”

“Yes, I do too.  She’s worked really hard for it,”  Ross was trying to decide whether or not he should ask Jenny if she has a boyfriend, but decided against it.  He didn’t want her to misinterpret his questions.  “Hey, when was the last time you went home to Cornwall for the weekend?”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know.  It’s been quite a while.  Why do you ask?” Jenny asked.

“Oh no reason, I just wondered if you felt homesick.”  

“Nope, I haven’t been home in a while,” she answered back.

“Well don’t ever hesitate if you want to take some time off for a long weekend to go back home or anywhere for that matter.  I bet you have a lot of holiday time saved up,” Ross’s business phone went off, just in time to put an end to this awkward conversation.  “Ross Poldark, can I help you?”

Jenny left the office and headed back to her desk.   Jenny was now wondering what was going on.  That was weird.  Why would I want to go on a holiday? 

*****************

Demelza was going to have a light rehearsal day.  She didn’t want to torture herself the day before the audition with second guessing herself about how she was playing, or if she picked the wrong piece of music to play.  Instead she decided to just play fun pieces that she could get into playing.  The maestro had given the musicians who were auditioning the next day, the night off, so she was going to take advantage of the extra time and just try to relax.  

Ross came home at his usual time with a large pizza and an order of cheesy bread, with Demelza’s favourite toppings - pepperoni, onions, and black olives.  Ross wasn’t a big fan of olives but was willing to pick them off.  

He kicked the door shut behind him and heard Demelza playing but it wasn’t her usual audition piece.  It sounded like Christmas music?  He put the pizza and bread down on the counter in the kitchen and headed upstairs. 

He found Demelza with a smile on her face, playing “Joy to the World”.  “Are you playing Christmas music?”

Demelza smiled and stopped playing and laughed, “As a matter of fact, I am! I decided that today I’m just going to play fun music and relax.”  She put the cello in its stand and walked over to Ross and put her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a full on kiss, her tongue searching for his.

Ross growled, “Mmmm I like your idea of fun and relaxing.  Let’s try that again.” He put his arms around her waist and immediately let his hands start exploring her back under her hoodie, neither one of them thinking about the scars on her back anymore.  His hands wandered up a little higher to find no bra.  “Holy shit no bra, Demelza!  You naughty girl, I love it!”  He didn’t waste time and removed her hoodie up over her head, her red hair flying all over.

Demelza started giggling and removed Ross’s suit coat and started untucking his shirt, “Oh Ross you always wear too many clothes!” 

Somehow Demelza managed to unbutton and remove Ross’s shirt but his tie remained around his neck!  Ross was laughing, “How the hell did you manage to do that?”

Demelza threw her head back laughing, “I don’t know!  It just happened!”  Ross reached and grabbed Demelza’s arse to pick her so that her legs wrapped around him, squealing, as Ross carried them into the bedroom.  Ross set her down standing so he could remove her sweatpants and knickers, coming off together in one nice pull.  Ross closed his eyes and moaned after looking at her naked body.  She reached to unbuckle his belt buckle and started unzipping his pants.  She reached around to dip her hands under his boxer briefs and grabbed his fine arse, eliciting another moan.  She pushed down his pants and boxer briefs in one push.  She was getting good at this move.  And then she grabbed his tie and pulled him closer to her until they both fell on the bed. Ross started kissing her on the lips with lust and passion, teasing her with his tongue.  Demelza ran her hands getting lost in those endless curls, pulling his lips down to her breasts where she wanted them the most at this moment.  He gladly obliged and took one pink bud in his mouth while he pinched the other one between his fingers.  Demelza’s breath hitched at the feeling she had been longing for all day.  Her hands had made their way back to his arse.  HIs cheeks fit so well in her hands as she pulled and pushed on them.  

Demelza found herself biting on Ross’s shoulder and clavicle area.  “Ross please.  Please, my love!”  She begged.  He raised up to kiss and lick on her neck, nipping with his teeth along the way.  He could hear Demelza’s breathing getting faster.  He had a feeling that she was very ready for him.  He was definitely ready for her.  It had been awhile since they made love.  He didn’t want to push her during this last week, but when he came home today and found her in her sweatshirt with no bra on, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.  He let out a growl and attacked her lips once again, taking both of her hands and holding them at the side of her head with his hands as his tongue explored her mouth, not holding back any moans that left him, “Melza, I need you so mmmuch!”  

“Take me Ross, please!” Demelza needed this as much as Ross did.

“Look at me, love.”

“Oh Ross, I can’t!”

He reached down with one  hand to get himself ready, “Demelza! Look into my eyes!”

She did so.

Ross entered her while they dove into each other’s eyes, both moaning at the same time.  “So good Demelza.  You feel so good.”

“Oh my God Ross!”  She pulled him down to kiss her.  She couldn’t get enough of him.  She wanted to crawl under his skin and become one with him.  Wet, hot sloppy kisses were driving them both wild while Ross pulled out and slid back in slowly and hard.  He did it again, she gasped at the feeling.  “Oh God yes, Ross!”  He obliged her request.  

It didn’t take long for Ross’s rhythm to speed up, at the instinct of his hips.  Ross lifted up a little to rub her bundle of nerves with his thumb, “Come with me, love,” he said.

Demelza could feel her heat pooling tighter with Ross’s help.  She could tell by the look on his face that he was getting closer as well.  He raised up more to give himself more purchase.  “Ross, I, I, I’m….” and Ross let himself moan out while he reached his end, together with Demelza.  Finally he was able to slow down his movement in order to try to catch his breath.  Ross collapsed on top of Demelza, both exhausted and spent, but still able to kiss each other lightly on the lips. 

Demelza chuckled, “Welcome home Ross.”

Ross smiled back, “I could get used to coming home to this.”

*****************************

The couple were lying in each other’s arms in the afterglow of their lovemaking, kissing each other lazily in between giggles and intimate talk.  It had been awhile since the last time they had made love.  Ross was never one to push Demelza into something she didn’t want, and he could sense lately with the stress of the audition that she really wasn’t in the mood.  But this spontaneous lovemaking helped release pressure like the steam blowing from a tea kettle full of boiling water on a stove.  

Ross was holding Demelza’s hand in his, kissing her knuckles, “So, I’ve taken tomorrow off work.”

Demelza’s eyebrows came together, “Why?”

“Because it’s your big day and I want to be with you, or close by in case you need anything,” Ross kissed her forehead.

“Awe, that's really sweet, but I don’t know what you would be able to do there.  You do know that you aren’t allowed in the music hall during auditions,” Demelza’s voice was soft and low.

Ross shrugged his shoulder, “I kinda thought I wouldn’t be allowed IN the auditorium itself.  And I know that you’ll probably be practising on your own.  I just want to be there for you.  You know, in case you need some emergency Chinese take out,” Ross was smiling.

Demelza giggled, but then her stomach growled and they both started laughing.  Then of course Ross’s stomach growled as well.  

“Well Ross, I guess we had better fix us some supper before our stomachs attack our bodies!”

Ross’s eyes got wide, “Oh shite!  I forgot!  I brought pizza and cheesy bread home for supper!  It’s probably all cold now!”

Demelza sat up, “Well I hope that you didn’t leave it where Seamus could get to it!”

“No, it's up on the island.  So he can’t get to it there.  At least he better not have.  I suppose we should throw some clothes on and check it out, yeah!”

*******************

They both threw some old sweats on and went downstairs to find the pizza and cheesy bread safe and sound, with Seamus asleep on the couch.

“Oh thank goodness.  I had this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.  What do you think?  Is it still warm enough or do we need to heat it up?” Ross asked.

Demelza shrugged, “Oh I think it’s warm enough, at least it is for me.  I’m starving so I’m going to eat.  I’ll get some plates.”

“Do you want a beer?” Ross asked.

“Um yeah that sounds good.  Do you want to eat down here or take this upstairs?” Demelza asked.

Ross looked at his watch, “Let’s take it upstairs.  I’ll let Seamus out before I go up.”

Demelza smiled at Ross.  She knew that Ross loved eating in bed, watching TV and relaxing.  She had half a thought sometimes to buy a small apartment fridge for upstairs for times like these.  

“Alright, I’ll meet you up there.”

************************

Ross was watching an old James Bond film while finishing up with his pizza, while Demelza was working on what she was going to wear for the audition.  She decided on the standard long black skirt and a long sleeved black leotard to keep things simple and comfortable.  

Ross watched what she was doing, “I thought you would wear something more you, for the judges.”

“Nope.  They won’t even see me when I play.  We are playing behind a curtain so the judges can’t see who it is that is playing.  They will only refer to us as a number.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t know that.  Well, that should keep things fair.  When will you find out the results?” Ross asked.

“I’m not sure.  Maybe right after the audition, hopefully.”

“I hope so.  I don’t think I could wait any longer than that for the results.”

Demelza was laughing at her fiance, “Honestly Ross! I think you’re getting more nervous about this than I am!  They could wait and announce it at rehearsal tomorrow night.”

“What!  Tomorrow night?  I can’t wait that long!” Ross was in panic mode now.  “Surely they won’t expect people to wait that long.”

Demelza laughed at him.  She was just yanking his chain and he fell for it.

“Aw you bugger, you’re teasing me,” Ross said.

“I’m sure we will find out tomorrow after the auditions.  Now remember if you’re going with me, you have to remain calm, no fist pumping or bad sportsmanship, okay?” Demelza instructed.

“Okay, I hear ya,” Ross replied.

**************************

Wednesday, Audition Day:

Demelza woke up first to start getting herself ready.  Ross let her have the bathroom while he went downstairs and cooked breakfast, started the coffee and let Seamus out.  The mood was quiet, with some soft chatter between the two.  Ross felt butterflies in his stomach so he was wondering what Demelza was feeling, but he was afraid to ask too many questions, so he didn’t ask.  Demelza came down for breakfast in her bathrobe so she wouldn’t drop any food on her audition outfit.  He made sure to kiss her neck by her ear so as not to smudge her makeup.    He smiled at her appearance because it reminded him of the first time he ever saw her playing at the Museum of Modern Art.  Her makeup was tasteful, but light,  with a lovely lip colour, and her hair bouncy but straightened.  

Demelza sat down and started eating as Ross poured her coffee.  She noticed his hand shaking while he poured the coffee, “Is your hand shaking?”

Ross cleared his throat, “I guess it is.”

She put her hand on his, “Are you nervous, Ross?”

Ross huffed, “Maybe a little.”

“But why?  You’re not the one auditioning?” Demelza was smiling now.

“I know, but I can’t help it.  I’ve got butterflies in my stomach.  I know it’s silly.  Aren’t you nervous?” Ross asked.

“A little.  I don’t get really nervous until right before.   But I love you for being nervous.”  She leaned in and gave him a kiss on his cheek.  Ross’s cheeks went red. 

Ross rolled his eyes, “You better eat up before it gets cold, yeah!”

***************************

Demelza needed to be at the music hall at 9 am to check in.  The musicians auditioning would draw numbers out of a bag and that would be the order they auditioned.  There were three cello players from the BBC Orchestra including Demelz auditioning, and five cello players from outside of the orchestra auditioning.  

Ross and Demelza entered the music hall at the same door where Ross waited for Demelza to come out at night after rehearsal.  By now Ross was used to the backstage area, but it was usually bustling compared to the quiet atmosphere that was there now.  Demelza checked in at a table that was set up.  One of the music hall’s staff members took care of checking everyone in.  Once all of the musicians auditioning arrived, they all met in a side dressing room.  

The rules of the day were explained to them, and then they all drew numbers numbered from 1 to 8 from a bag.  

Demelza drew number five which meant that she was the fifth to audition. Demelza looked at Ross, “I think that’s a good number to have, not too early and close enough to the end to be remembered.”

“Oh yeah good thinking, babe.  You’re so smart!” Ross gave her a kiss for luck.

Mother-hen Ross wasn’t allowed backstage as expected. He had to sit on a hard chair in the lobby outside of the music hall.  But he was glad to find that there were two other family members of auditioning musicians in the lobby.  At least I’m not the only nervous nellie! Ross thought to himself.  All mobile phones were supposed to be on silent or turned off completely.  So Ross figured that he wouldn’t see Demelza until she was done.  He had brought a backpack full of bottles of water and protein bars in case Demelza needed something to eat or drink.  Demelza didn’t have the heart to tell Ross that she probably wouldn’t want anything, the poor guy was just trying to feel useful in his way.  

Ross looked at his watch.  The first cello player was to begin at 11:00.  Demelza estimated that each person would take 20 minutes to audition.  The committee of five judges sat in the music hall.  The musicians are to play behind a black screen so that the committee can’t see who it is auditioning.  Demelza was taken to a warm up room at 10:30 and when it was time for her to play, a proctor guided her to the stage for her audition.  

Demelza’s audition piece was Buknik Concert Etude #4.  She knew the piece backwards and forwards and inside out.  When she sat down behind the screen she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths and pulled herself into a zone.  She opened her eyes and began to play.  Ross recognized the first notes and unashamedly pressed his ear to the door to try to listen.  In the first couple of measures the tone sounded brilliant which gave Demelza the confidence to attack the piece the way she wanted to!  She felt like she was one with her cello, the bow was an extension of her arm.  And before she knew it, the song was over!  She released a breath that she didn’t realise that she was holding, and the sound of the committee applauding woke her up!  The proctor came to guide her off the stage and back to the practise room to collect her things.  Then she was taken to a room where the other cello players who had previously auditioned were seated and waiting for results just like her.  Demelza chugged a bottle of water down and opened another and drank about half of that one.  She texted Ross to let him know that she had finished and that she felt good about it.  When Ross read her text, he pumped his fist in the air and yelled “yes!”  The other people in the lobby gave Ross a dirty look, “Oh I’m sorry, I just got excited.”  Ross slinked back to his chair. So much for Demelza’s instructions of no fist pumps!  The cellists in the waiting room were all wondering if the committee was going to narrow down the field for a second round of auditions.  There were only eight cellists, so this didn’t seem likely, but they wouldn’t know until the last cellist played.

One by one the rest of the cellists entered the waiting room until all eight of them were present and waiting for any word about the results.  There was some low chatter in the room amongst the musicians.  Demelza and the other cellists from the BBC Orchestra already knew each other and were friendly with each other.  Demelza didn’t recognize any of the other cellists which surprised her because the classical music scene in London is a small world.  

The few people in the lobby seemed to be just as tense as the people they were supporting.  Ross was slowly walking around the room, reading the plaques on the walls for about the 10th time.  He kept checking his phone for any news.  He wanted to text Demelza but he was afraid that he would disturb something so he resisted.  The other people in the lobby didn’t seem to be getting any news either.  Ross unwittingly let out a large sigh, and the others looked at hiim and started laughing at him.  “This waiting is killing me!  Patience never was my forte’,” Ross explained.

Finally the personnel manager of the orchestra came into the waiting room, and all eight musicians stood up.

“Good afternoon and congratulations to all of you,” the personnel manager spoke with a very posh and deliberate accent .  “Everyone played beautifully and gave the committee a difficult task at choosing the cellist who will be moving up into the sixth chair of the BBC Orchestra.  Fortunately for all of you, the committee came to the conclusion that it is not necessary to hold a second round of auditions.  So if you will all follow me out onto the stage for the announcement.  The screen has been removed.”

They all walked out onto the stage in a line, with the personnel manager standing just to the side from them.  The committee was still seated in the auditorium however they had moved closer to the stage.  More waiting.  Demelza felt like she was in a beauty pageant with everyone lined up to see who was going to win Miss Congeniality, Runner Up and First Place Winner.  

Then all of a sudden it was over.  He had announced the winner of the audition.  She didn’t hear her name, so she thought she didn’t win, but the manager announced the winner by their number they pulled out of the bag at the beginning of the day.  So she just stood there while everyone looked at her and started congratulating her.  “What did he say?” Demelza asked.  A familiar voice said, “Demelza, he called your number!”  Demelza was still in a daze, “What?  He called my number?”  Another voice said, “Yes, Demelza! You won the audition!  You did it!”  She felt tears on her cheeks and she turned to look at the personnel manager, “I won?”  “Yes Demelza, you won the audition!  Congratulations!” the posh man told her.  She covered her face with her hands.  She just wanted to collapse and cry but she didn’t dare do that here.  She turned to hug her friends from the orchestra.  She couldn’t believe it!  It was only one chair, but in this world it meant a lot because opportunities to move up don’t come along very often.  Finally they were all dismissed, and they went back to the waiting room to collect their belongings and their instruments.  

Ross! She thought. She turned and ran out to the lobby to find Ross.  Ross spotted her running  to him and he rushed out of his chair to meet her, “Demelza!”

Demelza started yelling, “I won!  Ross, I won!! I did it!”  She set her cello case down and all of her bags and jumped into his arms!  Ross picked her up in his arms and twirled her around!  You would’ve thought that she had won that beauty pageant.  But this was much better than any beauty pageant.  “I knew you would do it, my love!”  He could hear and feel her body tremble so he set her down.  Ross was just beaming at his beautiful cello player.  “I’m so proud of you, Demelza!  Are you crying?  What’s wrong?”

Demelza shook her head yes.  “Aw baby, I love you,” Ross said as he pulled her into his chest to wrap his arms around her like he was protecting her from the big bad world.  He let her take a moment to cry and get herself together.  The other family members had congratulated them quietly as they left the lobby.  Finally Demelza felt all of that stress leave her body.  She was still shaking a little bit but it wasn’t as bad as it had been.  Ross pulled her to sit down on one of the hard chairs.  He wiped the tears from her cheeks, and gave a bottle of water which she quickly sucked down.

He was rubbing her back, “Feeling better?”

Demelza cleared her throat and wiped her mouth, “I don’t suppose you have a flask on you?”

Ross laughed out loud, “No, I’m sorry love, that’s one thing I forgot to bring.  Are you ready to go home? Or maybe go someplace and get something to eat?  Are you hungry?”

“I am hungry.  I should call Caroline and let her know.”

“Alright, where do you want to eat?  Hmmm?  Please no Chinese,” Ross teased.

Demelza smiled at him, “No, I’ll let you choose.  I can’t make any decisions right now.”

Ross was helping her on with her coat, “Right.  Let’s get you and your cello into the car, you can call Caroline and invite her and Dwight to come along for a celebratory meal.  How’s that sound?”

She leaned up and kissed him, “Lovely.  Oh we should call Drake and Michael and invite them along as well.”

“Good idea.  Can’t forget them now can we,”  The couple walked to the car.  He loaded up the cello and noticed Demelza just leaning up against the car.  He wrapped his arms around her again.  She was still trembling but not as badly as before.  “Come on, let’s get you in the car and warmed up,” Ross opened the car door and Demelza climbed in.  

Ross got in and started the car up.  He noticed Demelza was kind of quiet and dazed.  “Hey, babe you alright?  What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

Demelza looked up at Ross and shrugged, “I um, I don’t know.  I just feel kind of numb. This doesn’t feel real, you know?  Bloody ‘ell Ross, I should be shoutin and screamin for joy and all I want to do is just… “  Demelza started crying.  

Ross pulled her in for a hug, “Aww darlin.  Come here,” he started rubbing her back.  “Do you wanna just go home? Hmmm?  Would that make you feel better?”

Demelza was wiping the tears away, “You probably think I’m so stupid acting like this after I just won the competition.  But yeah, I think I just want to go ‘ome.  Maybe pick up some soup along the way?”

Ross tilted his head while he was listening to Demelza speak.  He loved it whenever her Cornish dialect crept in.  “Oh Demelza, there’s no way in the world that I would ever think that you’re stupid.  I think that maybe you’re just overwhelmed by everything.  Hey, how about I pick up some of that broccoli cheese soup that you like from that deli on the corner to take home, alright?”

Demelza sighed, “That sounds wonderful.  Thank you.”

Ross kissed her on the temple, “Of course.”

*************************

While Ross was in the deli, Demelza texted Caroline and Drake that she had won the audition, prompting Caroline to call.

“Congratulations!  That’s wonderful!” Caroline enthused.

“Thanks!  It’s a bit surreal now that it’s over, but I’m very excited,” Demelza replied.

“So is there going to be a celebratory dinner tonight, or a party?” Caroline asked

Demelza cleared her throat, “No, at least not tonight. I’m, kinda tired.  I don’t know, I just feel weird Caroline, I don’t know what my problem is.  Ross was all set to call everyone and go out for dinner, but I would just rather not.  Do you mind?” 

“No of course not, it’s your decision.  Are you alright Dem?  Do you need to talk?” Caroline was concerned about her friend.

Demelza could feel a lump in her throat, “I don’t know what it is Caroline.  It’s kind of like the let down the day after a holiday or something.  Look, I’ve got to go, Ross is coming back with our take away.  I’ll let you know if I decide to have a dinner or something, alright?”

“Sure, call me anytime if you just want to gab.  Love you Dem.”

“Love you too Caroline!”

Ross got in the car with the food, “Hey, was that Caroline?”

Demelza smiled, “Spot on.  You know Caroline.  She was wondering if we were going to have a dinner or a party.  I told her that if I decided to have something that I’d let her know.”

Ross nodded his head, trying to read Demelza’s mood.  “Right, so I’ve got a couple pints of the soup so we have plenty, some sandwiches, some crisps and some of those brownies that I know you love.”

“Oooo that sounds delicious!  Let’s go home so we can eat,” Demelza said.

**********************

Ross and Demelza were sitting in the living room eating their soup and sandwiches.  

Demelza was enjoying her sandwich, “Mmmm this is so good.  I haven’t had a Reuben sandwich in such a long time.  I forgot how much I love these sandwiches!”  Ross smiled and wiped the dressing from the corner of Demelza’s mouth. 

Seamus barked at the couple waiting for them to drop any food.  The dog was rolling around like he was doing tricks for food.  The couple was laughing at the dog.  

Demelza sighed and leaned back on the couch, “Judas Ross.  I’m so sorry for acting like an idiot.”

“Will you please stop it Demelza!  You are not acting like an idiot! Bloody fucking hell will you just look at what you’ve accomplished today.   I am so very proud of you.  I just wish that I could’ve heard you play.  So at the next rehearsal do you move up officially?  I don’t know how this works,” Ross replied.

“Right, yes, tomorrow night I’ll move up, and then after a couple of concerts, if I do alright and they’re happy with me, then they will offer me a contract.  Then everything will be official,” Demelza said.

Ross had this weird look on his face like ‘duh’ and raised his hands.

Demelza furrowed her brows like Ross does, “What?  Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Demelza, don’t you see?  That’s the reason why you’re not jumping up and down and celebrating!  You just said it yourself.  It’s not official until after a couple of concerts, and they offer you a contract!  Oh darlin, I totally get it.  You’re afraid that you’re going to jinx yourself if you celebrate too soon.”

Demelza got this shocked expression on her face, “Oh my gosh you’re right!  Bloody ‘ell, I didn’t even think about that.  Bullocks, what a relief!  For a minute there I was thinking that there was something wrong with me!”

Ross pulled her in for a hug, “Oh honey I’ve told you, that you’re fine.  I love you so much.  So how about after you sign your contract with the orchestra, we will have a little get together then to celebrate.  How’s that sound?”

Demelza pulled away, “That sounds perfect.  How come you know me so well?”

“Ohhh that’s easy, because I love you so much.  You’re intelligent and funny.  I admire your tenacity, your courage, your strength.  You are amazing, and I. Can’t. Wait. To be your husband.”

Demelza climbed up on Ross’s lap and nuzzled into his neck.  Ross hissed, “Aaand there’s your cold nose again!”

*****************

If you would like to hear Demelza’s audition piece, Buknik Concert Etude #4:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pbD4AANhATo

Shameless!  I can’t count how many times I have heard this song sung either by Garth Brooks or by Billy Joel himself.  But I guess I never really understood what the song meant until I started reading the lyrics when considering it for the title of this chapter.  The chapter is about Demelza and her audition, but it also how far Ross is willing to go to take care of Demelza, to make life easier for her during her week of getting ready for the audition.  He’s a bank guy and grew up in Cornwall, he doesn’t know anything about classical music so he feels helpless in how to help Demelza. His secretary Jenny doesn’t even understand the way he is behaving.  Demelza unwittingly has turned his life upside down.  He had been a womanizer previous to Demelza in order to prevent himself from being hurt again.  The song Shameless talks about how a man is shameless in his love for his woman.  But is Ross really shameless in his love for Demelza?   

Well I’m shameless when it come to loving you

I’d do anything you want me to 

I’d do anything at all

And I’m standing here for all the world to see

There ain’t that much left of me

That has very far to fall

You know I’m not a man who has ever been

Insecure about the world I’ve been living in

I don’t break easy, I have my pride

But if you need to be satisfied

I’m shameless

Baby I don’t have a prayer

Anytime I see you standing there

I go down upon my knees

And I’m changing, I swore I’d never compromise

But you convinced me otherwise

I’ll do anything you please

You see in all my life I’ve never found

What I couldn’t resist, what I couldn’t turn down

I could walk away from anyone I ever knew

But I can’t walk away from you

I have never let anything have this much control over me

Cause I worked too hard to call my life my own

Yes I made myself a world and it worked so perfectly

But it’s your world now, I can’t refuse

I never had so much to lose

I’m shameless…shameless

You know it should be easy for a man who’s strong

To say he’s sorry or admit when he’s wrong

I’ve never lost anything I ever missed

But I’ve never been in love like this

It’s out of my hands

I’m shameless, I don’t have the power now

But I don’t want it anyhow

So I’ve got to let it go

I’m shameless, shameless as a man can be

You can make a total fool of me

I just wanted you to know

I am shameless

Shameless

Shameless

****************************

[syntia13treeman]

Case files 11.01

what I think happened in:

Case 11.01, the case of "Ink in the Water" or "Dead men tell no tales."

Today we visit the old Padstow cemetery in Cornwell. Sat at the very edge of the cliffs, just a kilometre or two away from town of Padstow, the place offers breathtaking view of the Atlantic Ocean, surely appreciated by the many sailors of old interred here. Unlike its less scenic sister cemetery located off Newquay Road, this old burial ground hasn't seen any burials since beginning of 20th century, but until recently remained a local landmark.

The cliff erosion that had been slowly eating up the space over the years has finally reached the stage where integrity of the cemetery was threatened*, and Cornwall Council decided to relocate all dearly departed to a more secure quarters at Newquay. The job was appointed to a crew of local lads led by Gordon Alan Johnson, under supervision of David [last name unknown], a medical examiner. They regularly reported by email to Alison Leshi of the Cornwall Council.

The works started in the first days of 2020 (yikes) and progressed with little delay. It was determined that they could use heavy machinery everywhere except the patch nearest to the cliff edge, but Gordie was confident that they'd manage those last few graves just fine with shovels.

All was well for about a week, until January 12, when a suspiciously well preserved body was uncovered. An artful rendition of a sailing ship covered the dead man's back, and the fact that it remained intact and pristine raised concerns that it was, possibly, a modern-day murder victim buried on the sly.

While the controversial cadaver was carted off for closer scrutiny, Gordie and his crew were left to care for unconfirmed crime scene. ($)

The news must have spread, because within a day or two a curious individual came by. They didn't give their name, but we know them as Ink5oul. They apparently had somehow** identified the dead man's tattoo as work of Oscar Jarrett, (connected to Sutherland Macdonald)***, and wanted to take a look. They visited cemetery first, then started hanging around the examiner's office. Let's leave them there for now and go back to two local man who already did have a peek at the inked masterpiece

Around the time when the tatted body was uncovered, Gordie started noticing the sound of the waves getting… louder. Or maybe closer. So close he could even hear them in his dreams. He started re-examining photographs of the tattoo left by David and at some point his interpretation of the scene changed. At first glance it seemed hopeful, but now he saw that the sun was setting on the voyage, and there was something sinister lurking beneath the waves, giving chase. The waves kept getting louder, and Gordie so desperately wanted to know, what was hiding in the water?

Dr. David, meanwhile, had not just pictures, but the og tattooed body all to himself, and was in no hurry to let anyone else have it. We don't know what he heard or saw or dreamt when examining the ink, but we know how it ended. On January 15th David walked out to the cliffs and threw himself into the ocean below. His body hasn't been recovered. It's all right, though. The deep will care for his bones.

Few days later, on January 19/20, there was what appeared to be a break in at the examiner's office, and the contentious body disappeared****. Good ol' Gordie swore up and down that it wasn't him, and his frequent presence at the scene was just due to his fervent wish to see the corpse he was responsible for. He pointed fingers at Ink5oul and vowed to recover the body from them or die and kill trying.

Shortly thereafter his email account was deactivated/deleted. Gordie's final fate remains unknown*****.

Final thoughts:

*A case could be made that the cemetery was at risk of toppling into the sea, because the sea was actively trying to get to The Body. This man belonged to the sea, not the earth, and was clearly marked as such. The sea was not having any of this ‘burial’ nonsense.

** I wonder how Ink5oul knew to come here. Did local news run the story of halted exhumations, and showed pictures of the tattooed body? Or did Ink5oul feel a great disturbance in the ink when the body was dug up?

*** What is the 'thing' with OJ and SM? Since Sutherland Macdonald (1860–1942) was a known tattoo artist irl, I think that Oscar Jarrett was either his competitor, student, or both. Also an og tattoo magic man.

**** Was there really a break in, or was it actually a break out? While it is believable that Ink5oul or other fan of OJ spirited the body away for worship or study, it is equally possible the 'body', freed from the confines of the grave, heard the call of the sea, woke up and walked out all on its own. Who knows, maybe we'll meet it somewhere down the line.

*****That only leaves the question, what happened to our friend Gordie? We know from Daria's case that Ink5oul was still operating in 2022, so presumably they didn't get killed or arrested in 2020. If Gordie indeed tried to confront them, it didn’t go in his favour. Maybe he died right there, in a small motel room, at the hands of a tattoo artist who was more than they seemed. Or maybe, cursing and desperate, he found himself walking toward the cliffs, irresistibly drawn by the call of the waves. Maybe he got to find out what was waiting in the water.

[smilingformoney]

For the Love of Books, Chapter I. Hurricane Sinclair

Summary: Despite her indiscretion, Sinclair Bryant is trying to make it work with his wife Natalie, but things aren’t quite the way they were. Matters aren’t made any easier when Sinclair meets a pretty young bookseller, Betty Bennett, who has a way of making Sinclair look at his marriage in a whole new light.

AN: I now have three multi-chaps on the go and I can’t stop myself. However, this one is - gasp - not Snape although it is still an Alan character so we’re not too far out of character 😀 shout out to @snowblossomtumbles for always enabling my parasocial relationship with this old man ❤️

Warnings/content: spoilers for Close My Eyes (duh). The story takes place among the rich upper class of early 90s Britain and Betty is a black girl with a working-class background, so expect racism and classism later down the line. I am white, so if any black people want to correct me on anything, please do!

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

Today was a good day.

Sinclair had eaten his favourite breakfast that morning, which always set him in a good mood - pancakes with a generous helping of syrup. His wife Natalie always said that much syrup would rot his teeth, but his teeth were in excellent condition, and besides, Natalie had left last night to go on a girls’ weekend with her friends, so Sinclair could have whatever he wanted for breakfast.

He got into the office with a sense of foreboding, knowing he had a difficult client meeting taking up his whole afternoon. But his mood was soon cheered when he discovered a memo from the receptionist that the meeting had been cancelled.

So Sinclair suddenly found his entire afternoon free. He had a lot of other projects to work on, of course, but he decided to celebrate his free afternoon by taking a longer lunch break.

The sun was shining outside, so he decided to go on a walk around town before stopping somewhere to eat. He turned into Cornelia Street, where some of his favourite shops and cafes were, and paused in surprise when he saw something new.

One of the units had been empty for the past three years, but there were definitely lights on inside and, as he approached the building, he saw the shadow of movement through a doorway. Someone new was moving in!

Curious, he tried the door, and to his joy, it was unlocked.

A bell dinged above the door as Sinclair entered the shop. It felt wrong of him to bypass the ‘closed’ sign, but it would feel more wrong if he didn’t poke his nose in and find out what kind of shop was to open here.

“We’re not open yet! There’s nowt on the shelf!” An irritated voice called from the back room. Just as the voice had said, the lines of shelves were set up across the little shop, but they were completely barren.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself! I saw the place was opening again and had to look in,” Sinclair replied. “This unit’s been closed for three years. The last owner was a lovely guy called Samuel, he sold vinyl records, but nobody really buys them anymore, you see. I told him he should stock cassettes but he was a stubborn old thing, never really saw the appeal of them and when it came to closing up or moving forward, he decided to retire down to Cornwall. Or was it Devon? Anyway, I’m Sinclair, what’s your name?”

He said this entirely without seeing the new shopowner, who now appeared carrying a heavy-looking box and a frown.

“Elizabeth Bennett,” she replied without looking at him.

Sinclair’s eyes lit up. “Pride and Prejudice!” he announced excitedly.

“That’s the one.” With a grunt, she deposited the box by a shelf and turned towards him, finally giving him a chance to look at her.

She was young, maybe in her 20s, with dark skin and a mess of black hair. She was dressed rather casually in jeans and a white t-shirt, which hugged her figure nicely, and Sinclair quickly glanced back up to her face, not wanting to appear as a leering old man.

“Who are you when you’re at home, then, Sinclair?” she asked. “You from the local rag or something?”

“Oh, nobody, just a local!” he replied cheerily. “But I saw you were setting up and the old curiosity was piqued. What are you selling?”

“Books. Excuse me.”

She turned to go back into the storeroom, and Sinclair followed, excited. He loved books, they always had the most interesting facts and stories.

“What kind of books? Or is it all sorts? I love books, I have hundreds at home - I’ll bet you anything, you open any of those boxes, I’ve got something in there.”

“Won’t be needing my services then, will you?” Elizabeth replied as she bent down to pick up another box.

“Stop!” Sinclair exclaimed with some urgency. Elizabeth paused, then straightened and turned back to him with a frown as he crossed the space between them.

“What?”

“Don’t bend like that, you’ll hurt your back! You have to bend with your knees - here, let me show you.” He demonstrated by squatting, securing the box in his arms, then straightening up again. “See? Lift with your knees. It’s much better for your back. Here, I’ll help you!”

Before she could protest, Sinclair carried the box into the shop, set it down next to the other box, then returned to the back with a grin.

“See? Easy! With two of us, it’ll be done in no time and then you can tell me all about yourself and your new shop!”

“…Alright,” Elizabeth conceded.

True to Sinclair’s word, the boxes were indeed much easier to pick up with his method, and so the two of them set to work, carrying boxes back and forth while Sinclair told her why lifting with your knees was better for your body. Then, once he’d told her all he knew about that, he went into the history of the building and told her all sorts of stories about Samuel, the set-in-his-ways previous owner.

“Oh, look at that! We’re all done!”

Sinclair put his hands on his hips and looked around the empty storeroom proudly.

“Yeah, now I gotta put the books on the shelves, though.” Elizabeth sounded out of breath, and Sinclair looked around to see her leaning against the wall, wiping the sweat from her brow. He hardly felt like he’d exercised at all, but then again he did go for a run every morning, so he was quite fit.

“You know what you need after that? Lunch. Do you know the area? There’s a lovely little cafe across the street, they do the best sandwiches you can buy. David, the owner, is a friend of mine. His pork is absolutely to die for, you’ve got to try it. Come on!”

Without giving her much of a choice, Sinclair began to move towards the door.

“Oh - hang on, I’ve gotta lock up,” Elizabeth said. As she locked the back door, Sinclair rocked on his feet, looking around at the empty space, wondering how she was going to decorate it. He grinned when she returned from the back with key in hand and a purse over her shoulder.

“Madame,” he said formally, offering his hand to her with a flourish of a bow. Elizabeth just rolled her eyes and walked past him.

“Come on, Lord Sinclair, I’m hungry. You showing me this place or not?”

“Right!” Sinclair tried not to feel affronted that she hadn’t appreciated his little joke, but he followed her out and, once she’d locked the front door, led her across the street to the unassuming little eatery.

“It doesn’t look like much, but often the best places to eat are hidden gems. Watch out!”

She paused just in time to avoid stepping in dog poo. Sinclair turned his nose up at the sight.

“Disgusting. People who can’t clean up after their dogs shouldn’t be allowed them. Here we are!” He announced proudly as they arrived at the cafe. Elizabeth followed him in, and despite the slightly grubby exterior, the inside was pristine. Sinclair slid into a booth, Elizabeth sitting opposite him, and picked up the menu.

“I don’t know why I look at this thing, I always get the same,” Sinclair said. “I suppose it’s the illusion of choice. Now, I recommend the pork, like I said, but he does some great beef burgers too -“

“I’m vegetarian,” Elizabeth interrupted.

Sinclair frowned, then his face brightened. “That’s alright! Here, he does chicken burgers too - oh, no, wait, that’s meat. Er - what about the BLT? No, B stands for Bacon. Erm -“

He frowned, clearly confused.

“If you’re just gonna get the same thing as always, can I have the menu? I’ll find something myself,” Elizabeth said.

“Right! Good idea!” Sinclair agreed and passed her the menu. “Here you go. He does salads, of course, but I bet you always have to have the salad. There is meat in a lot of things, aren’t there? I never really thought about it, but I suppose it must be hard to eat out if you’re a vegetarian. I couldn’t do it myself, I love chicken too much, but I think it’s great if you can do it. Oh, there’s David! Hello, David!”

Sinclair waved at the man who had just emerged from the kitchen and was talking to the waitress. David nodded to Sinclair, then resumed his conversation.

“You know a lot of people around here,” Elizabeth noted. “Did you barge in here a week before it opened too?”

Sinclair laughed, clearly not having noticed the sly remark. “Oh, no, this place has been here forever! It first opened in 1976 when David came over from Poland. He couldn’t speak a word of English then, you know, and now he’s hardly got an accent at all!”

The waiter appeared at their side.

“Hello, Mike!” Sinclair greeted him cheerily. “Usual for me, pork and mustard sandwich and a Diet Coke. What’ll you have, Elizabeth?”

“Halloumi burger, please, and a Coke.”

“Oh, no, you shouldn’t drink regular Coke! It’s full of sugar. Diet Coke is much better for you.”

“It’s all rubbish, isn’t it?” Elizabeth retorted. “Regular Coke for me.”

“No problem, love,” said Mike the waiter, leaving Sinclair and Elizabeth alone.

“I prefer Betty, by the way,” she said quickly, before Sinclair could start talking again. “Elizabeth is what my parents would call me when I was in trouble. Plus it makes the whole Pride and Prejudice thing less obvious.”

“Betty Bennett! I love that!” Sinclair grinned. “Alright, I’ll call you Betty. So do you live around here, Betty? I’ve not seen you before.”

“Do you expect to know the face of everyone in town?”

“Well, no, but I think I would have noticed someone like you.”

Betty raised an eyebrow. “Someone like me?”

Sinclair’s eyes widened with alarm. “Oh, not because you’re black!” he insisted genuinely. “I just meant - well, you’re very… um… pretty. I was - ah, I was trying to compliment you. Sorry. That came out wrong.” He winced, cringing at himself. “Sorry. My wife says I don’t think before I speak. Suppose she’s right.”

Betty felt her heart skip a beat at pretty, then drop at wife.

What the hell?

“Right. Well… thanks, I guess. I did kind of jump to a conclusion there.”

The waiter arrived with their cokes, diffusing the tension slightly as they both sipped on their drinks.

“Yes, I live around here,” Betty said, choosing to act as if nothing had happened since he’d asked the question. “Though I just moved in so you wouldn’t have seen me before. The previous owner you mentioned, Samuel - he was my grandfather. He passed recently and left the shop and the flat above it to me, so I decided to use it. And yes, you’re right, he was very stuck in his ways. Loved his vinyl to the end - Mum’s still clearing them all out.”

Sinclair listened, nodding, with rapt attention as if even the smallest snippet of Betty’s life was the most interesting thing in the world to him.

“What about you?” she asked. “You’re clearly familiar with the area, do you live here?”

“Not in town itself, I live a bit further out into the country, but this is where my office is so I’m here a lot. Do you like cars? I adore vintage cars, they’re very interesting, but obviously I can’t drive one every day so I just drive an Accord for commuting, then on the weekends I’ll take one of my others out for a drive. What car do you drive?”

“I don’t.”

Sinclair frowned, as if she had just spoken French.

“What do you mean, you don’t?”

“I mean I don’t drive. I never learned.”

Sinclair gasped.

“How come?!”

“Never needed to,” Betty said with a shrug, not realising she’d basically just told him she lived a life of sin. “I’ve always lived in towns and cities, I just get the bus or a train. Plus driving lessons can be expensive…”

“Not when they’re free!”

Betty frowned, not quite understanding what he was saying. “Well, of course they wouldn’t be expensive if they were free. But who gives out free driving lessons?”

“Me!” Sinclair said proudly, pointing at himself for emphasis.

“That’s a terrible business model. What do you get in return?”

“Hmm, alright. How about I teach you to drive and you… let me cook you dinner after!”

“That’s - that’s still you giving me two things.”

“Not when I enjoy both of them!”

Betty smiled and shook her head. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a free book every week if you teach me to drive.”

Sinclair’s eyes lit up at the prospect. Not only more books, but free! And all in exchange for spending time with Betty, whose company he was enjoying very much, and whose eyes he was very glad were pretty, because they distracted him from looking down at her flattering top.

“It’s a deal!” he announced. “Pleasure doing business with you, Miss Bennett.”

“And with you, Mister…”

“Bryant.”

“Mr Bryant.”

Betty stuck her hand out across the table and he took it with a laugh, giving her a firm handshake.

“The deal is struck! Driving lessons for books. And dinner. Speaking of which, here’s lunch!”

Their food had arrived, and for once Sinclair stopped talking as he savoured the delicious sandwich, and the silence gave Betty space to think for once. What on earth had happened? How was she sitting here in a cafe eating lunch with a complete stranger? She’d just been unloading her stock when he literally barged in like a hurricane, moved her boxes for her, then whisked her off for lunch. And now he wanted to teach her to drive, and cook her dinner, all before telling her his last name.

Betty wasn’t used to this. She was the very epitome of the nerdy, bookish girl. She didn’t particularly look the part, because she didn’t wear big round glasses and baggy jumpers with her hair in a messy bun. She wasn’t a plain brunette white girl who turned suddenly hot when she took her hair down and removed her glasses. No, she was a black girl with wild, bushy hair that stuck out at all angles and refused to co-operate. Putting her hair down took a lot of time and effort with the straighteners. And she’d never needed glasses, which was surprising considering how much eye strain she must have suffered from all the books she read.

But looks aside, she certainly acted the part. She was shy, quiet, reserved. Very bad at making friends. She just didn’t know how to talk to people; they always thought she was rude, although she didn’t mean to be. But this Sinclair guy - he didn’t seem to know how to shut up, so she didn’t need to talk much anyway. And he spoke with such excitement about everything, she felt herself getting excited about it too. It was infectious.

She knew what her Mum would say. Don’t talk to strange white men, Elizabeth. Don’t let them know where you live. Don’t spend time alone with them. Don’t live, more like. How on earth was she supposed to build any kind of life for herself in Oxford, the whitest of white cities, without talking to any white men?

Sinclair finished his sandwich with a satisfied moan, then licked his fingers clean of mustard before wiping his hands.

“Delicious as always. My compliments to the chef!” he called over to David. He turned his attention back to Betty and said, “So when would you like your first lesson? I’m free all day.”

“Oh - today?” Betty repeated, surprised that he was offering so soon.

“Are you busy?” Sinclair asked with disappointment, looking a little like a downtrodden puppy.

“No. Well, I have to unpack the books, but I can do that any time. I just…” She twisted the napkin between her fingers. “I wasn’t expecting to take a driving lesson today.”

“I bet you weren’t expecting to have the most delicious halloumi burger of your life today either!”

“Can we do tomorrow? I’d really like to unpack the books.”

Sinclair nodded, understanding. He loved last-minute surprises, but not everybody did. If Natalie were home and he came back from anything other than work on a day he said he’d be coming straight home from work, he’d get the cold shoulder the rest of the night.

“Okay, but you’re not getting out of it!” Sinclair warned teasingly, wagging a finger. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out two business cards and a pen, then handed them all to Betty.

“One to keep, one to write your number on,” he explained.

Betty looked down at the two identical business cards, which looked very posh with his name embossed: Sinclair Bryant, Associate Executive.

It made him seem very important, although Betty wasn’t sure exactly what an Associate Executive was supposed to be, but it must be something important for him to carry around business cards.

She wrote her number on the back of one of the cards and handed it back to Sinclair. He looked at it, grinned, and tucked it back into his pocket.

“Well, I’d better get back to the office, I’ve already taken a two-hour lunch! I’ll call you when I finish and we can arrange your first lesson.”

He stood up, and Betty realised they were leaving. She reached for her purse, but Sinclair was already on his way to the bar to pass a bank note to Mike the waiter.

Betty glanced back down at the menu. No way was their total anywhere near £20! It was closer to ten, but when Sinclair passed a twenty to Mike, he waved his hand to reject the change.

“Thanks, guys. See you soon!”

He waved goodbye, then Betty quickly followed him outside. She thought they’d part ways there, but he insisted on walking her over the road, and she wasn’t sure if she felt affronted or flattered.

“Well, this is me,” she said as they arrived at the shop door. “Thanks for lunch. How much do I owe you?”

Sinclair shook his head. “Don’t be silly, it’s my treat. Tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

Then Sinclair did something very strange. He took her hand in his, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it. He smiled at her, then turned to walk back to his office, leaving a very stunned Betty behind.

What the hell had just happened?

[weirdestbooks]

India Gets Revenge (Wattpad | Ao3)

“Wales, what exactly am I looking at here?” India asked as she looked down at the food that had been placed in front of her.

“It’s supposed to be curry,” The Celtic Nation said with a slight, pained grin as if they knew exactly what would happen.

“It looks like someone vomited on my plate,” India said, poking it with her fork.

“Don’t worry. That's what all his food looks like. It’s best just to pretend like you're eating it and then go out to eat after we leave. That’s what I always do,” Wales said as he leaped onto the back of the chair beside her.

“I don’t trust his restaurants,” India said. She had been forced into some of them before, and the less said about those experiences, the better.

“Don’t worry, I know some that are not owned by white people trying to claim curry was invented by Lloegr.”

“The people who what?”

“I mean, if you could understand what he was saying, you’d see England is doing that right now,” Wales said, his smile growing into something a bit more vicious, as if he was well aware of the wrath he was about to release onto his egotistical neighbor.

“He doesn’t even use spices! What do you mean he and his people try to claim he invented curry?” India said as she tightened her grip on the fork. Why did she keep coming here? Surely, diplomacy wasn’t worth this. 

“Apparently, it’s a traditional English dish,” Wales said in a bored tone, “Cornwall has a sword if you need it, India.”

“He’s too pathetic to use a sword on. The fork will do.” India said as she stood up.

“Well, you’re another person to add to the ‘stabbed England with a fork’ list,” Wales said, pulling out his phone. Although she was curious about who else was on that list, India resolved to ask Wales about it later and focus on stabbing England with the fork first.

“England!” India barked as she approached the shorter man, kneeing him in the balls and then stabbing him in the shoulder with the fork as he collapsed, “You and your people better stop claiming that curry is yours before I stab you with a real weapon next time.”

[niamhthefae]

Some marauders fic ideas because i can't write and want these to exist

Strawberry Popping Candy- dorlene- in which, marlene isn't expecting anything interesting to happen in this new town,at most she might meet a freind or discover a cool café. but it's probably going to be just like it always is.she changes her mind when she meets dorcas meadowes at the skateparkand is offered some of her strawberry popping candy

Sk8er boi- wolfstar- in which sirius has been doing ballet since he was 7 years old, always told to avoid the "rougher boys" that hang around the alleys beside the studio, then he comes across remus lupin,who proves to him that 1,theyre not that bad, and 2, his parents aren't always right about the world.

It's Twilight- an interesting half joking half not fic that is basically twilight, but better and gayer with one of the ships. it can be pretty much any pairing.

Bloody Kisses- jegulus + wolfstar-victorian/edwardian era- sirius and regulus are vampires, remus and james are vampire hunters that just got out of school. when regulus kidnapped the two and brings them back to the castle as "food" he doesn't expect him and sirius to fall in love with the two boys.

okay so this is another historical one but ssshhh I like history- litteraly just them but in the victorian era or something. idk we just need more historical aus because i want to read about my gays and my favourite time periods!

litteraly just their hogwarts years or a muggle au boarding school thing that's slytherin skittles instead of marauders centric because i love those guys so much. obviously dorlene and rosekiller and probably jegulus with wolfstar and everything else going on but it's more background bc it's not about them rn

Ice Cream Sundaes-any ship,maybe wolfstar tho?- in which [blank] is sick of working at an ice cream parlour in order to make money over the summer and [blank] is eating an awful lot of ice cream in order to see a certain boy/girl. basically one of them is on holiday with some freinds in Cornwall or Wales or something and they keep dragging them all to this ice cream place to see the other an dthen one day they get a napkin with their ice cream with the others number on it and "call me?" written on it. and then we get cute summer movie nights and dates on the beach and shit.

• Timeless- wolfstar or jegulus- where one of them (probably one of the black brothers) is immortal or a vampire or something and every time the other is reincarnated they fall in love, the tale of them falling in the present day, maybe with flashbacks to previous times when similar stuff happened. with angst about the immortal worrying because "they're just going to die again"

• i havent got name ideas but SPIDERMAN REGGIE with sirius being aunt may and the ships of your choice

•haunted- kind of bbc ghosts vibes- [blank] is a tired,sad ghost who has gotten very bored. then [blank] moves into the house they reside in, and things get a lot better. probably some sad stuff because while they love each other (platonically or romantically) they can never touch, no hugs, no kisses. just talking and offering their company

anywayz there's a bunch of my ideas that I can't be bothered to write,feel free to use them or even just imagine them if you really want. and if no one sees this then oh well