#Timothée x original female character

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Return to the Water

Chapter Eight: You Taste Like Home

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight nine

We cross the deepest oceans, cargo across the sea, and if you don’t believe me, just put your hands on me. And all the constellations shine down for us to see, and if you don’t believe me, just put your hands on me.—Vanessa Carlton, Hands on Me

Timothée trailed open-mouthed kisses down the damp skin of her neck, and Lea panted, her breasts pressed against his bare chest.

“We— we shouldn’t—“

“We should,” he countered, grabbing her ass firmly and giving it a squeeze. “I’ve been wanting this for months, baby. Don’t you want it, too?”

Lea blinked up at him, confused. “Want what?”

Timothée pulled back, staring at her in confusion. “Wanna… y’know.”

She frowned, even more confused. “No, I don’t know.”

“Lea,” Timothée said slowly, pulling slightly back, “do you not know what sex is?”

She frowned, shaking her head and looking up at him in bewilderment.

He looked up at the night sky and muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite make out. Then he looked back down at her, his expression equal parts affection, amusement, and exasperation. “It’s how I’ll get you pregnant,” he explained. 

“I always figured I’d lay eggs, the way fish do,” Lea mused. 

Timothée laughed. “No.” Then, he leaned in close to her, his lips brushing against hers. “Lemme show you,” he murmured, leaning down the rest of the way to kiss her again.

Lea kissed him back without really thinking about it, her hands threading into his still-dripping curls. “You taste like the ocean,” she observed. 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Timothée asked, kissing her neck and fondling her ass again. 

“D— definitely a good thing,” Lea managed to stutter out. “You taste like home.”

She felt his smile against her damp skin. “Good.”

With that, he pulled her down onto the wet sand and climbed on top of her, palming her breast with one hand and gripping her hip with the other. “Your tits are by far my favorite in the world.” He gave her breast another squeeze before moving both hands to her outer thighs. 

When Timothée looked down at her, the moonlight from above them cast shadows on the sharp lines of his face.

He moved down her body slowly, trailing kisses across her skin as he went, even suckling a nipple into his mouth briefly and making her inhale sharply in the process. Then, to Lea’s immense confusion, he pulled her legs apart and settled between them, his elbows in the sand. “What’re you—“

He grabbed her legs and threw them over his shoulders. “Don’t move,” he told her, his eyes locked on her face. 

Then, Timothée did something that was both confusing and delightful. He shoved his face between her thighs and started to lick her there. Insistently, like he had some sort of intent. All thoughts flew from Lea’s mind when he did this, and she gasped sharply, throwing her head back into the sand.

He wrapped both arms around her thighs as if to pull her closer—impossibly closer, they couldn’t get any closer, she was certain of it—with a groan, licking at her with so much determination that she would’ve been confused if she’d been in possession of the ability to form a single half-coherent thought. Instead, her hands gripped his wet curls, to either push him away or pull him closer—she wasn’t sure—as she cried out, her hips bucking mindlessly. Lea was certain that she was hurtling towards something; something significant, something only Timothée could give her, and she was almost frightened by the intensity of whatever was building within her lower abdomen, but she was even more afraid of him stopping what he was doing, and for a second, she thought she was about to die, and then—

And then Lea exploded with a scream. She was still staring up at the sky, wondering what the hell just happened as her entire body pulsated, blood thrumming through her veins, when suddenly, Timothée moved to kiss her again.

Lea felt empty. She didn’t know how or why, but she knew—she knew—that he could fix it. “I need—“ Lea inhaled sharply. “I need— I don’t even know what I need—“

“I know what you need,” he murmured, his mouth moving into a smirk continuing to kiss her neck and squeeze her breasts, thumbing her nipples. “I’ll give it to you, baby, I promise.”

Timothée moved his hands down his own body to remove his shorts, and—much to her dismay—she couldn’t get a very good look at his body since it was pressed up against her own. “What’s happening?” Lea asked anxiously. She wasn’t nervous about what was going to happen, but rather that she'd disappoint him in some way.

He paused, then cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to put a part of my body inside your body,” he explained. “It’ll feel good. I promise. It’s…” He paused, looking away for a moment. “When I get you pregnant, that’s how I’ll do it.”

Something deep inside Lea fluttered with want, aching for him without fully comprehending how or why, but it was Timothée, her mate. And nothing with him could ever be wrong.

“Okay,” Lea whispered.

He reached down between them and seemed to adjust something, and then she felt an odd sensation against her center.

“What’s that?”

Timothée smiled affectionately at her. “Me,” he murmured. “It’s me, baby.” Then, he cupped her cheek and rested his forehead against hers. “Tell me you love me again.”

Lea inhaled sharply, her cheeks reddening a bit despite the chill on her still-damn skin. “I love you, Timothée,” she whispered, her words nearly drowned out by the sound of the waves.

He smiled again, leaning the rest of the way down to kiss her, and then the odd sensation at her center moved forward, no— inside of her.

“Oh,” she gasped out in shock, both at the sensation and that this was actually happening. “That’s—“

“I know,” he grunted, pushing further into her. “Fuck, I know.”

The further in he went, however, the more uncomfortable it became for her. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before; like some unused, previously unknown muscle was suddenly being overworked. “It— it hurts,” she frowned, telling him somewhat apologetically.

Timothée nuzzled her nose with his. “I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Your body needs a bit to adjust.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, affection—and something else she couldn’t name—in his eyes. “Will you give me a few minutes to make it feel good?”

Lea would’ve done just about anything he’d asked of her, so she nodded. “I trust you.”

He kissed her sweetly, and moved further inside her. He was slow and gentle, but it still stung, and she felt uncomfortably stretched. “God, Lea,” Timothée groaned against her mouth as his hips finally met hers and he was fully within her.

Lea looked up at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to make of his reaction to whatever sensations he was feeling. “Is… is it good? Does it feel good?”

Timothée nodded with a short, raspy laugh, kissing her again. “Best feeling I’ve ever experienced.”

Lea smiled up at him, kissing him back. She was thrilled she had pleased him. Then, she began to feel the same.

“It… it doesn’t hurt anymore, I don’t think.”

“Can I move?” he asked, looking excited.

“Move?” she said in confusion. 

“Lemme show you, sweetheart,” he rasped out, withdrawing slowly and then pushing back in. 

Lea inhaled sharply, and he repeated the motion. She wasn’t entirely sure if it felt good, exactly, but the discomfort was gone now, at least.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” Timothée grunted, rolling his hips against her own. “So damn tight.”

With every thrust, the sensation within her changed, shifted, until her entire body was tingling. “Timothée,” she gasped out, reaching out to touch him.“That feels—“

He gripped her wet hair, his lips brushing against hers as he groaned. “Does it feel good?”

“Y— yeah,” she finally decided. “It feels… it feels good, it feels really good—“

“Fuck,” he grunted, moving a bit faster now. “Best pussy I’ve ever felt. Fuck, Lea.”

She lifted her pelvis off the wet sand to meet his thrusts, and he gripped her hips in response, clearly enjoying her enthusiasm. It felt good, the best thing she’d ever felt in her life. “Don’t stop, Timothée,” she begged softly, her hold on him tightening, “Please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop, baby,” he swore, his voice low and intense. “Wanted you too much for too long.” He thrust a bit harder, gently tugging her bottom lip between his teeth and squeezing her hips so tightly she idly wondered if they might bruise, which, strangely enough, didn’t sound like a bad thing in the slightest. “So fuckin’ good.”

Instinctively wrapping her legs around him, her knees bracketing his hips, Lea ran her hands over his chest and shoulders, fascinated by the way her mate—Goddess, she was doing this with her mate, her mate wanted her in this way—was shaped, the way his lithe muscles moved and flexed beneath his too-perfect skin, and she wanted to trace every one of his freckles with her fingertips and mouth and tongue and she never—never—wanted this to end, because it—no, he—was everything, too much and not enough all at once in the best possible way.

“Timothée,” Lea moaned, the sound of it, her desperation for more, drowned out by the waves behind them.

“Yeah, say my name,” he encouraged in a low voice, mouthing wetly at her neck and squeezing her hips harder. “Say my name, sweetheart. Can’t get enough of you.”

“I can’t get enough of you, either,” Lea confessed, surprised by how easy the admission was. Everything about this situation felt right, felt perfect, like she didn’t need to feel embarrassed. Not here, not with him.

Timothée sat up a bit, burying his hands in the wet sand on either side of her. Her legs fell from his hips, and he continued to roll them against hers as he looked down at her. “God, you’re sexy,” he muttered, his gaze flitting from her face to her breasts to her hips and back up to her face again. He balanced himself on one hand and reached down to grip her breast, giving it a rough squeeze. “Could watch the way these bounce for hours.”

Lea’s lips parted on a moan, and she arched her back off the sand and into his touch. Her breasts bounced from the force of him driving into her, but that didn’t stop Timothée from pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She whined at that, the unfamiliar sting sending sharp jolts of what felt like lightning through her veins and down to where they were joined.

“Oh, I—“ Whatever half-formed thought flew from her mind and she cut herself off with an involuntary moan, because he gently twisted her nipple, making her back arch again.

“Don’t think,” Timothée rasped out, lowering himself back down, propping himself up on his elbows as he thrust inside her. “Don’t think, Lea. Just feel.”

“I am, I’mfeeling—“

He cupped her cheek, gazing into her eyes for a moment that was both an eternity and simultaneously not long enough, and then he kissed her. Slowly, intensely, like he wanted it to last forever too.

Lea threw her arms around his neck and returned the kiss enthusiastically, even as she moaned into his mouth at the things he was doing to her, the things he was making her feel. As they kissed, he reached between their bodies and rubbed the same spot he’d been licking before.

Lea moaned, her muscles tensing up as he wrung pleasure from her like he knew her body better than she ever could, no matter how long she spent as a human, and he rubbed faster, more insistently, never ceasing the delicious movement of his hips.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged. “Cum for me. Wanna hear those pretty little moans again, wanna hear you screaming my name. Cum for me.” 

Lea didn’t understand exactly what he meant, but when she had that second burst of… whatever it was, it was even more intense than it had been before, and she was suddenly immensely worn out.

Timothée, however, was neither satisfied nor worn out. Instead, he moved faster, harsher. “Fuck, Lea,” he grunted, burying his face in her neck. “‘m gonna cum, you feel so fucking good—“

Lea was so dazed that she was hardly even aware of what he was saying, but she knew she was happy. And then, he thrust a few more times, each one more long and intense than the last, before he finally stopped altogether and collapsed atop her. He panted against the skin of her neck for several long minutes, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore drowning out the sounds of their breaths and thundering heartbeats.

Lea hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes and couldn’t recall having done so, but she kept them closed anyway, holding him against her. “I love you, Timothée.” Her voice was tired but full of such obvious contentment that he lifted his head up to kiss her again.

“I think it will be very easy for me to love you back,” he told her gently, kissing her again. “Just give me time.”

Lea opened her eyes and smiled up at him. In that moment, as her mate helped her to her feet and led her back to the house, all she could think of was how perfect this all was. He was everything. Everything.

He took her to the patio outside his bedroom and opened the door. “Where are we going?” Lea wondered, confused. “My room is over there—“

He pulled her towards the bathroom, into his shower, which was substantially larger than the one in her room.

“What, you didn’t think you’d just go back to sleeping in your own room after that, did you?” he said with a little laugh. “No, baby. No.” He leaned down and gave her a slow, passionate kiss. Lea sighed, smiling against his lips. “C’mon,” he murmured, turning the water on. “Let’s get all this sand off.”

She stared at the water flowing in rivulets down his unnecessarily—obnoxiously, really—perfect body. She blinked, examining a certain part of him that was very different from her own human body. “Is that what you put inside me?” she asked, pointing at the unnervingly sized appendage.

Timothée glanced down at himself and laughed again, getting his hair wet and encouraging her to do the same. “Yeah, it was that.”

She stared at it. “How odd.”

He chuckled a bit, helping her rinse the sand from her body, and admittedly taking far too long on her breasts.

“What are you doing?” Lea asked as he kissed her neck and squeezed her breasts with both hands, teasing her nipples.

“Washing the sand off?” It sounded more like a question than a statement, so Lea said, “I think those parts are free of sand.”

One hand continued to tease her nipples while the other trailed down her body, his fingertips gently touching her center. “Do you want me to stop?” Timothée murmured, kissing her neck.

Lea considered this for a moment. “Okay, just a little,” she finally decided, leaning back against him as he slipped his fingers inside. “Just… just a little.”

After the shower, he dried her off with a soft towel before leading her—on stumbling, unsteady feet—to his bed, where he cocooned her in his arms.

And then Lea slept, and slept well, for the first time in months.

Sorry for the wait, smut is harder to write than just about any other type of scene. Anyway big thanks to my beta @lilmaymayy

Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19

To be added, please ask 💗

[strayrockette]

The Dragon & The Griffin

The Beginning of the Path Masterlist

A/N: The first chapter I put out was a feeler for the story. Since I had a good reception for the previous chapter(Link below), I am exploring the beginning of it all. This was revised on 9/7/24

If you want to be tagged leave a comment, DM, or reblog with an ask to be tagged.

Warnings: Mentions of death

Reblog and like if you enjoyed the chapter and comment with your thoughts!

Previous Chapter

Irene Atreides was not born a Bene Gesserit; she had been Irene, the beloved daughter of House Atreides before she was ever bound to sisterhood—a twist of fate that even the Reverend Mother had perhaps misjudged. The Atreides were a formidable house, their power rooted in loyalty and strength, and no decision made against them was ever made lightly. Alliances were forged and broken, destinies twisted by compromise, even when the path led only to destruction.

Now, Irene stood before a tall mirror in her dimly lit chamber, her swollen belly pressing against the soft fabric of her gown. Her hands ran over the curve, feeling the life that grew within her, a life she had never planned for but could no longer imagine living without. Dark clouds loomed beyond the window, the sky thick and brooding, promising a storm that would ravage everything in its path. The air was dense, laden with the electric charge of impending thunder, and Irene’s breath hitched as a familiar ache rippled through her. She clutched the windowsill, her reflection staring back at her—tired eyes, lined with the weight of secrets and regrets.

Plans within plans within plans. That’s what she had been taught. Irene had not expected her mission to unravel like this, to find herself on the brink of something she could neither control nor fully comprehend. She was sent to destroy the Targaryens, to finish the last of a line that had long been deemed too dangerous to endure. But here she was, far from her purpose, burdened by a love she never should have allowed.

She closed her eyes, memories flooding her—a violet-eyed lover who had captured her heart with a single glance, whose gentle hands had traced the paths of her scars, whose laugh had filled her nights with warmth. She could still feel his touch, his breath hot against her ear as they whispered in the darkness. “We mustn’t,” she’d murmured, but her resolve had been as fragile as glass. His scent—wild rain and mint—enveloped her, soothing her fears. “And deny ourselves?” he’d teased, his smile a promise of a fleeting peace she could never sustain.

A sharp pang shot through her abdomen, dragging her back to the present. She gritted her teeth, fighting against the pain that was both physical and deeply emotional. Irene wanted her daughter to be stronger, to have a heart fortified against the world’s cruelty—a heart that wouldn’t bleed as hers had. Another kick jolted her, and she managed a strained smile. “You fight me at every turn, little one,” Irene murmured, her voice a mix of pain and reluctant admiration. “Just like your father.”

Irene’s body felt heavy, every step dragging as she moved across the room. She gripped the rough bedpost, her knuckles white, her back arched with the strain of impending birth. “I NEED A MIDWIFE!” she screamed, her voice echoing against the stone walls. Footsteps and hurried voices filled the chamber as three women rushed in, their expressions tight with urgency.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the room in a brief, blinding light. Irene’s cries mingled with the storm outside, each bolt of thunder rattling the iron bars of the window. The midwife took charge, barking orders as Irene’s vision blurred with tears, her mind slipping between the searing agony and fleeting glimpses of the life she was about to bring forth. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t find the words, only the raw, primal instinct to push.

Irene’s vision blurred as the storm outside raged on, lightning splitting the sky in violent bursts of light, each crack of thunder reverberating through the stone walls of the castle. She clung to the bedpost, her body trembling with the strain of labor, every muscle taut and burning as she fought to bring her daughter into the world. The wind howled, its fierce cry finding its way through the cracks in the window, sending chills through the air and rattling the iron bars like a desperate prisoner seeking escape.

The room was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, blood, and the faint, acrid smoke of burning candles. Irene’s breath hitched, each inhale a struggle against the weight pressing down on her chest. She could barely focus on the hurried voices of the midwife and nurses around her, their commands lost in the fog of her exhaustion. Everything felt distant and distorted, as if she were slipping between the seams of reality. And then, in the chaos, there was a sudden, eerie stillness. The storm quieted for the briefest moment, the thunder pausing as if the universe itself had drawn in a breath. Irene’s senses sharpened, the pain momentarily dulled as a presence filled the room—something ancient and unfamiliar, yet impossibly close.

A whisper cut through the silence, soft and resonant, like the low murmur of a long-forgotten voice. It wasn’t the midwife or the nurses. It wasn’t her own fractured thoughts. It was something else entirely, something that bypassed her mind and struck at the core of her soul.

"Nykeā zaldrīzes hen vestras." A lone dragon enters the world. The words, spoken in High Valyrian, flowed like a river of molten gold, carrying the weight of an ancient promise. It was the language of her husband’s ancestors, the tongue of the dragonlords whose blood now mixed with her daughter’s. Irene’s breath caught in her throat, the whisper reverberating inside her like the distant echo of a dragon’s roar.

The voice carried a certainty that transcended time, a declaration that pierced through the storm’s fury with the quiet force of fate. It was neither comforting nor condemning, but a statement of undeniable truth, laced with the power of a legacy that could not be denied. The words rippled through Irene’s body, wrapping around her heart like a protective shield, vibrating deep within her bones.

Irene’s eyes widened, tears welling as the full meaning sank in. This was no ordinary birth; this was the arrival of something rare and destined. Her daughter was not just an heir, not just a child, but a lone dragon—a force entering the world that would challenge and defy it at every turn.

Irene’s heart ached with both fear and pride, knowing that her daughter would be alone in ways she could never fully shield her from, but also knowing that Amina would carry the strength of her father’s bloodline, the fire of the Targaryens. “A lone dragon,” Irene whispered faintly, her voice barely audible above the faint rumble of the storm. She looked down at her swollen belly, feeling the tremors of life within, and she knew that her daughter was something far more dangerous and extraordinary than any simple heir. Amina would stand defiant in a world that sought to shape or destroy her, bound to a destiny Irene could only glimpse in her darkest dreams.

The whisper lingered, echoing softly in the charged air, even as the midwife’s voice broke through, urgent and commanding. “Push, my Lady!” The command jolted Irene back to the present, the pain crashing over her once more, but the whisper stayed with her, a haunting presence that refused to be silenced. Irene’s mind swam with images—dragons soaring through storm-ravaged skies, a lone figure standing unbroken amidst the chaos, violet eyes blazing with unspoken resolve. With one final, desperate push, Irene brought her daughter into the world. Amina’s wail pierced the air, sharp and unyielding, echoing against the storm like a defiant cry of existence. The midwife lifted the newborn, her tiny body slick with the blood of birth, her eyes wide and impossibly alive, reflecting the storm’s fury and the promise of the whisper.

“Please,” Irene gasped, reaching out with trembling hands. “Let me… let me see her.” The midwife hesitated but finally placed the baby in Irene’s arms. Irene’s breath hitched as she looked down at her daughter—those vivid, fierce violet eyes meeting hers. Amina’s eyes were a vibrant burst of color, a beacon of hope and fire against the bleakness of Irene’s final moments. Irene touched her daughter’s cheek, feeling the warmth and life beneath her fingers, and for that fleeting moment, the pain receded, replaced by a fierce, unbreakable love. “Amina Targaryen,” Irene whispered, her voice barely holding against the storm’s roar.

“A lone dragon, my sweet. You are born of fire, and you will not be consumed.” Irene’s vision blurred, her strength ebbing as she held her daughter close. The whisper echoed one last time, faint and distant, fading into the ether but lingering in Irene’s heart. She knew that Amina would not be her mother’s daughter; she would be something far more. And as Irene’s final breath left her, the storm outside began to wane, the winds dying down as if in acknowledgment of the new life that had just entered the fold—a dragon, alone but unyielding, ready to carve her path in a world that would never fully understand her.

Translations:

Nykeā lone zaldrīzes enters se lurugon.= A lone dragon enters the fold

____

Taglist: @aoi-targaryen

[justasparkwritings]

Exile: Insult to Injury

Previous: My Town

Pairing: Timotheé Chalamet x Reader

Genre: Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: PG15 

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Timotheé begins to reckon with his decisions, and the impact his choices have not only on him, but you. 

Exile Master List

           Timothée sits in the doctor’s office, waiting patiently for her to utter a word. The longer he sits, the more agitated he was becoming. His outgoing personality wasn’t going to last long in this silence, no, this purgatory, where he waited patiently for some sort of relief, the person across from him unwilling to give it. It had been his mother’s idea, embarking on this journey. She was absolutely thrilled to become a grandmother, but after viewing the disarray Timothée’s life seemed to be in, had vehemently encouraged him to seek help. Pauline had agreed, talking Timothée through the process of finding the right doctor. The first attempt was a flop, some middle-aged man who looked down his nose at Timothée’s predicament. Something that he tried to describe as “good problems”. The second, a darling woman no older than 35, had understood, but didn’t feel like she had the experience to guide Timothée through this crisis. Which is how he found himself sitting in the cream-colored chair, eyes trained on the woman in front of him.

           “Timothée, why don’t you start by telling me why you’ve decided to seek counseling,” Dr. Vernon said, pen resting in her hand, poised to write every last drop of the plight that is Timothée.

           “I’ve been going through a lot of, uh, life changes, and I’m starting to feel a little out of control,” Timothée leaned back against the couch, grateful for a respite.

           “Out of control how? Emotionally? Physically? Do you have a history of drug or alcohol abuse?” Dr. Vernon asked, running down the list of mandatory questions. Timothée didn’t mind answering, the previous doctors he’s met with have asked similar questions. Its perfunctory at this point, and he knows it. He has to answer, its tantamount to creating an accurate picture of himself.

           “No drugs or alcohol abuse,” Timothée told her, the truth easily slipping from his lips. “I just became um, a father and my partner of the last, five would be six years just um, left me.”

           “Is your partner the baby’s mother?” Dr. Vernon asks, pen scraping the page.

           “No, no, that’s part of the issue,” Timothée could feel the early signs of tears forming, which caught him off guard. He hadn’t cried in weeks.  

           “Hmm, do you want to tell me what happened?” Dr. Vernon has kind eyes, gentle, inviting eyes that Timothée can tell will cause him to relinquish every detail about himself.

           “Where should I start?” He scratched the back of his neck, unsure if the beginning of his crumbled relationship is the correct place to detail how far he’d fallen.

           “Wherever you think is best, but I might ask for more information throughout, okay?” Dr. Vernon sipped her water out of one of those giant gallon water bottles with phrases encouraging you to drink, and time stamps to keep you on track. She would’ve made fun of it, and in this square room, the traffic of LA idling in the distance which Timothée finds all the more endearing.

           “We met at a party. She was a friend of a friend. She had on this black lace halter top, with a high neck that exposed her shoulders and part of her back. She tucked it into these crisp white shorts, and had some gold sandals on, with these hexagon earrings, I love those earrings… The way the sun reflected against her skin, against her smile…” Timothée sighs, “I was just, smitten already. She was funny, so funny, and she knew this weird back catalogue of TV history that had my mind racing. I don’t believe in love at first sight, at all, but she had me that day.”

Timothée can tell this is going to take more than one session, fuck, it might take years for him to unpack the layers of their relationship. It wasn’t something he could condense into one hour, not even if he cut out all the good parts and just focused on the bad. Honestly, focusing on the bad wouldn’t take that long. The longest relationship he’d had, gone in minutes, still lingering in his mind every day.

           “It started to go south when I started taking projects again,” Timothée continued.

           “Things were fine until you were leaving?” Dr. Vernon asked, her first interjection.

           “Yeah, yeah, when we first started out, I would be gone here and there, but nothing too long. I was on Broadway, and we were both in New York, so it was all so, easy. I took a job that took me to Australia for four months, and that’s when we decided to have an open relationship,” Timmy nodded, his recollection of that first departure murky.

           “While you were in Australia?” Dr. Vernon clarified.

           “When I came home, no, it was after Australia, I guess. I had another job maybe a month later in South Africa, and after that I was in Thailand for a minute,” Timothée scratches his head, unsure if he imagined the conversation earlier than it had happened, his brain confused in the haze of new parenthood.

           “Whose idea was it?” Dr. Vernon wanted to know.

           “Hers, well,” He took a deep breath, sorting through the rubble, “Hers. We sat down to talk about our relationship and she just, word vomited on me. She was so lonely, and upset that whenever I was home all we did was have sex,”

           “Was that true?”

           “Yeah, we were sort of making up for lost time,” Timothée explained, though the explanation felt flimsy in his lips.

           “How did you feel?”

           “I wasn’t surprised, I’d been feeling it too… Our conversations became shorter, our tempers were flaring more than they had before. We’d been together over, two years at that point and we hadn’t experienced any of the tension, the lingering resentment, the frustration at all.”

           “She was resentful, or you were?” Dr. Vernon inquired, pen still poised on the page, eyes staring into his.

           “Both, she was mad I was always gone, I was upset she was living her life like I wasn’t there,” Timothée expounded.

           “Was she replacing you?”

           “No, she was lonely,” Timothée said.

           “Were you?” Dr. Vernon pushed.

           “Yeah, yeah, I was,” Timothée told her.

           “You decided to open your relationship? Were there rules?” Dr. Vernon’s eyes are back to the yellow legal pad where she’s been keeping track of everything Timothée says. He doesn’t know, throughout his sessions with her, if she keeps a legal pad for every one of her high paying clients or if the secrets she must have accumulated are easily accessible.

           “At first, no, but then it became really fucking clear we needed them,” Timothée sipped his own water, in his own bottle which did not have any positive words or time stamps.

           “Were they strict rules?” Dr. Vernon’s still writing

           “She had one golden rule, and I broke it.”

           Dr. Vernon tried not to think about her patients outside of her office. Her life was hers, and the time she spent outside of those four walls belonged to whomever she chose. Every so often, there is a client who no matter how diligently she tries, worms their way into her life outside of work. They worm their way into the hours when she’s not Dr. Vernon, to perch in the periphery of her mind, pulling her back to them. Throughout the months she’d been working with Timothée, her mind couldn’t help but double back on his predicament. She had her theories on why his partner had left, but until Timothée told her, they remained so. Her theories, lodged somewhere between truth and fiction, was where her concern stemmed from.

           Though she thought of him often, she didn’t think of him fondly. She was filled to the brim with concern, a lingering uneasiness of what was going through his mind, of the melding of grief and joy and exhaustion that in a particular combination, could result in mania. She was concerned that every step he took outside his house would result in the meeting of his ex at a wine bar or coffee shop, that they’d cross paths at Target, baby in toe. Dr. Vernon checked for Timothée wherever she went, hoping to never run into him.

           “Would you like to tell me what that rule was?” Dr. Vernon asked, pulling her back to the conversation.

           “No sleeping with co-stars. It went both ways, no sleeping with coworkers of any sort,” It rolled so easily off his tongue, the rule that broke them.

           “Why did you break it?”

           “I was drunk, or high, I think I was both actually,” Timothée hadn’t been this embarrassed since his parents watched Call Me By Your Name.

           “Was it your first slip up?” Dr. Vernon pushed.

           “Yes,”

           “She became pregnant?”

           Timothée nods, acknowledging that the story itself is a little too predictable. It sounds made up, unreal, something that doesn’t happen out in the wild, but straight out of Hollywood. Which, in his cynical mind, it was. Two actors, fucking, girl gets pregnant, boy loses everything.

           “Did you ever discuss the probability that at some point in your other forays that you might impregnate another woman, or that she might end up pregnant?” Dr. Vernon doesn’t pussyfoot around her questions, she packs a bunch and Timothée is barely able to fight back. Regardless of the prep he does the night before, the week before he finds himself in this space again, she always goes for blood.

           “She had an IUD, and I always used condoms and made sure the women were on birth control… But it wasn’t, it wasn’t a major thought or part of the conversation?”

           “Why not?”

           “I don’t think we ever thought it would happen,” Timothée hates himself for being so basic, of course it wouldn’t happen to him, he’s Timothée Chalamet! He’s Oscar nominated; girls literally cry over him. How could he be so reckless?

           “Did you exercise this privilege often?” Dr. Vernon is curious now, Timothée can see it in her hazel eyes. She’s done pressing the matter of him realizing his fallibility, more curious about the aftermath.

           “Rarely, not that I didn’t have, desires, I just was never truly comfortable with it.”

           “But you let her?” Dr. Vernon is surprised, an emotion Timothée hadn’t seen on her yet.

           “It felt like I was either going to lose her, or cause her to resent me, which would make me hate myself. So, in order to save us, I -

           “Agreed to sleep with other people,” Dr. Vernon finished.

           “It was always about sex, it was never about having a third boyfriend or something, she wasn’t bringing people into our home,” Timothée explains.

           “Your home?” Dr. Vernon, surprised again.

           “We moved into this house in LA sometime after our third anniversary, gutted parts of it, built it to our liking, it’s gorgeous,” Timothée’s mind is going on a virtual tour of the two story estate, the sitting room where he destroyed your future, the bed where he’d held you close, the kitchen where you’d made countless meals together, and in the summer, in the garden, where you’d made love on a gingham blanket under the lemon trees.

           “Do you still live there?” Dr. Vernon brought him back.

           “For now,” Timothée nodded.

           “For now?”

           “She told me to either buy her out, or sell it,” He stated.

           “Seems fair,” Dr. Vernon didn’t pick sides, Timothée liked to think she was on his, but if it came to blows, he didn’t know where she’d stand.

           “It’s her house, it’s her back splash and her herringbone hardwood and it’s our photos on the wall, our bedroom, our closet. It’s not a home without her,” Timothée wiped his eyes, the tears brimming. He was so fucking tired of crying.

           “She didn’t want the house?” Dr. Vernon’s eyes drifted back to her notes, to Timothée’s legal pad, where she made a note in the margin.

           “She packed up and moved out like we hadn’t been planning to spend our lives in it,” Timothée let the tears fall, hot and heavy as they moved down his cheeks.

           “But you’re still living in it?”

           “yeah,”

           “Does that haunt you?” Dr. Vernon wanted to know.

           “Yeah, I haven’t taken down the photos or made plans to move. Margot has a room, she’s familiar with it,” Timothée shrugged.

           “Are you holding onto it?” Dr. Vernon questions.

           “Like hope?” Timothée asked, eyes wide, tears fully cascading down his cheeks.

           “Do you think keeping the house mean’s she’ll come back?” Dr. Vernon’s voice was never harsh, if her eyes were kind and welcoming, her voice was silk pajamas.

           “Yes,” Timothée whispered.

           It was in this moment that Timothée realized the entire problem with his relationship, and how he perceived their time together. Everything he did lingered on that idea, that promise, that glint in the sky of hope.  

           “Why did you end your open relationship?” Dr. Vernon wanted to know, her hair laying in intricate braids against her scalp, cascading down the back of her blouse, a top Timothée had never seen before. He looks at her, knowing full well in the months he’d been coming to her office, he’d never once mentioned it.

           “I got Florence pregnant,” His words were a whisper, that teenage boy shame of knocking someone up out of wedlock still ringing in his words, no matter how many times he’s said it.

           “You closed your relationship before Florence was pregnant, or after?” Dr. Vernon was clearly confused on the timeline.

           “Before I knew she was pregnant, after I slept with her,” Timothée clarified.

           “How did she respond to that bit of news?”

           “She was stoic, cold, I called her immediately and she was so mad that I even told her about it,” The anger started to boil in Timothée’s blood the millisecond he started speaking about her.

           “Why was she mad?”

           “I broke two rules, no talking about whoever you’re sleeping with, no sleeping with coworkers. She was so incensed that I broke the rules, the fucking precious rules that she created that,” Timothée exhaled, trying to measure his words. “She didn’t even care that I was so angry with myself. I hated myself, I’ve spent the last year hating myself, and all she had to say was that I had to live with the decision I made and to talk to Florence. She didn’t offer forgiveness or understanding, she didn’t try to be empathetic or kind. She just, fucking, she just let me hurt.”

           Dr. Vernon ticks a few boxes in her head, her theories solidifying as Timothée moves through his anger.

           “What did you expect her to do?” Dr. Vernon’s eyes are questioning, curious as to whether or not Timothée had at all in their time together begun to grasp the levity of the situation.

           “Not that,” Timothée said, eyes still raging.

           “How did she usually respond to you being in distress?” Dr. Vernon stilled, waiting to hear his response.

           “She was loving, comforting, she listened, and she cared. She’d, she’d ask me how it made me feel and what was going to help me process it… She was gentle, calm… but that phone call, she didn’t fucking care,” Timothée stared at a spot on the carpet where the pattern divulged and bled into the binding on the side.

           “Can you blame her?” Dr. Vernon quipped.

           “No, I would’ve been, I probably would’ve responded the same,” Timothée swallowed.

           “Hmm,” Was all Dr. Vernon said as she watched the wheels in his mind turned, putting the pieces into place that he’d been staring at for nearly two years.

           “She never gave me a chance to work through it with her,” Timothée responded, though he wasn’t sure he ever gave her a chance.

           “Walk me through what happened after you told her Florence was pregnant,” Dr. Vernon instructed, taking another swig from her water bottle. In all the times that Timothée had been to see her, he’d never seen her water level be at the same place. He marveled at her dedication, or compulsion to her daily dose of H2O.

           “With Florence or?”

           “You’ve been coming here for months, and yet you won’t refer to your ex by name,”

           Timothée looked like he’d just realized 2+2= 4. He’d never thought about it.

           “Oh, is that weird?” He asked, voice a whisper as he thought about it.

           “Do you think it’s weird?”

           “I, no? I can’t, I can’t say her name,” Timothée felt like putty, the taste of her name synonymous with heartache and loneliness, doing everything in his power to stop from thinking

           “You don’t have to,” Dr. Vernon’s smile was forgiving, understanding instead of judging.

           “When I told her Florence was pregnant, and that she was keeping the baby, well now Margot, she nodded and then she left,” Timothée exhales a burden he hadn’t known he’d been carrying.  

           “She left?”

           “She packed a bag, told me she’d pick a few days to come get her stuff and said she didn’t want to speak to me,” Timothée lays it out, facts, figures, no fits, no starts.

           “How did that make you feel?” Dr. Vernon queries.

           Timothée smiled a little, the phrase synonymous with sitting on couches, head being shrunk, he relished in the colloquialism.

           “Abandoned,” He said.

           “Have you felt that way before?” Dr. Vernon pushed.

           “When she wanted to have an open relationship,” Timothée answered.

           “Did you tell her that?”

          “No,” Timothée said.

          “Why not?” Dr. Vernon wanted to know.

          “It seemed fleeting, the feeling,” Timothée can’t quite articulate it past that, fleeting, like sunset, like the look you give someone before you kiss them, the first sip of a freshly opened soda, the first sting of a papercut. Momentary. Insularly. Unremarkable.

          “Was it?” Dr. Vernon probed.

          “No,”

           “Was it magnified when she left?” Dr. Vernon, TKO.

           “Yeah,” Timothée whispered.

          “Did she tell you why she was leaving you?” Dr. Vernon asked, handing the box of tissues to Timothée. He stared at her, unsure if he’s ready to divulge his greatest heartbreak. This was the moment they’d been leading to, the moment where he bared his soul, his shame, abandonment and contempt coming to a head in the quote from his ex. His eyes continued to leak heavy, hot tears; voice caught in his throat.

           “It’s okay to just cry,” Dr. Vernon encouraged as Timothée’s shoulders slumped, his sobs breaking him.

           “I’ve cried so fucking much,” Is all he could get out, a statement ringing true like the sunsetting and rising every day/night. He’s so fucking tired of it, of all of it. “She said, she said that everything we’d planned was gone.”

           Dr. Vernon gazed at him, his slim figure compulsively recoiling as his sobs continued. Timothée wasn’t the first client to come to her at the height of despair, walls caving in. Nor was he the first partner to show up, the cracks of their relationship only revealing themselves as they talked, the instability and decay bubbling to the surface.

           “That wasn’t all she said,” Dr. Vernon had a knowing look in her eye. As he blinked, Timothée wondered if it was smug, condescending, a look that told him he should’ve seen their demise coming.

           “She,” He took a deep breath, a poor attempt at steadying himself. “She said that Florence had made me a father, and she would never be able to live up to that.”

          Dr. Vernon sat, eyes pensive, pen stilled. She wondered how long it would take for Timothée to understand the hurt and abandonment his former partner felt learning that he had fathered a child with someone else. Not just the hurt, but the unraveling of her future, of their life, no matter how tenuous the situation was. Timothée, for all his charm and relationship experience, seemed to be lacking the ability to understand the primal desire built into womanhood: the want, need, to bear children. Some women never felt the calling, but it didn’t stop their biology from preparing their womb every month for a child and shedding it when it realized none was coming. He hadn’t yet grasped the reality of having your life partner, through choice or accident, embark on the most primordial aspect of life without them.

          Dr. Vernon’s theories had been correct, and as she guided him throughout his sessions, she hoped that Timothée would fully grasp the weight his actions had on his ex, the pain he caused, and the hurt that both parties were feeling. The grief they were each going through was all encompassing but refusing to acknowledge both sides of the story would not serve Timothée in the future.

          Timothée was hung up on how she left, how she iced him out, how she responded to his actions. But he hadn’t yet began to understand the utter devastation he created. By being unwilling to admit that he was the villain in his narrative, he failed to recognize that she too, had been the villain of hers. The only difference was that Timothée came out of the breakup with the house, and what mattered more, a child. A child to love, who would love him in return, a child with hints of his features and a name he helped pick out. It didn’t matter if he was heartbroken, he walked away with everything.

Next: The Side Door

[ramajmedia]

IT Chapter Two: Every Returning Character From The First Movie

Which IT Chapter One characters are returning for IT Chapter Two? Both films from New Line Cinema are based on Stephen King’s 1986 novel IT - though the book has been split into two installments - and directed by filmmaker Andy Muschietti.

Released in September 2017, IT Chapter One follows the experiences of several kids in Derry, Maine. The storyline begins in 1988, as the self-proclaimed Losers' Club cope with personal issues while investigating a mysterious being they label as It. The kids ultimately discover that It returns every 27 years to feed on the fears of Derry locals. Incidentally, IT Chapter Two picks up the storyline in 2016, as the Losers' Club reunites and decides to face their childhood trauma one last time.

More: IT and Joker Can Save Warner Bros' Disappointing 2019

IT Chapter Two features many returning characters for two separate timelines - both the children from the first movie and their new adult counterparts are starring in the film. Here’s a complete list of every major IT Chapter One character returning for IT Chapter Two.

It Aka Pennywise The Dancing Clown

Portrayed by Bill Skarsgård, this character is the central villain of the IT story. Pennywise embodies all the fear that children grapple with during their formative years, which means that It can take on various forms, depending on the situation. Pennywise speaks like a normal clown at times but transforms his appearance to shock and terrify his victims. IT Chapter One begins with Pennywise luring and killing a young Derry resident, Georgie Denbrough.

Skarsgård has previously appeared in feature films like Atomic Blonde, Assassination Nation, and Deadpool 2. He also portrayed Henry Deaver aka The Kid in Hulu’s Castle Rock season 1.

Bill Denbrough

Jaeden Martell reprises his role as Bill Denbrough from IT Chapter One. James McAvoy will portray the 2016 version in IT Chapter Two. In the ‘80s narrative, Bill stutters and struggles with his brother Georgie’s disappearance. Like other Losers' Club members, Bill clashes with his father, and vows to keep the gang together. As an adult, he’s become a successful mystery novelist.

Martell previously starred in the Showtime series Masters of Sex. On the big screen, he landed his first big role in the 2014 dramedy St. Vincent starring Bill Murray. McAvoy, an acclaimed Scottish actor, is best known for his performances in Atonement, Split, and the X-Men franchise as Charles Xavier aka Professor X.

Beverly Marsh

Jessica Chastain joins the IT Chapter Two cast as the 2016 version of the Losers' Club lone female member, Beverly Marsh. Sophia Lillis reprises her role from the original film as the young Beverly. During the ‘80s story, Beverly is the focus of both Derry rumors and her own father’s sexual advances. In Pennywise, she sees the physical embodiment of her emotional turmoil. The Losers' Club treats Beverly with respect and helps her confront her worst fears. In IT Chapter Two, Beverly is a Chicago fashion designer with a turbulent personal life.

Since appearing in IT Chapter One, Lillis portrayed a younger version of Amy Adams’ Camille Preaker in the HBO limited series Sharp Objects. She also starred as the title character in the feature film Nancy Drew and the Hidden Staircase, and will headline the 2020 film Gretel and Hansel. Chastain is a two-time Academy Award nominee for her performances in The Help and Zero Dark Thirty. She recently starred in Dark Phoenix, and reunited with director Simon Kinberg for the upcoming spy film 355.

Ben Hanscom

In IT Chapter Two, Ben Hancsom develops a crush on Beverly and stands up to his school bullies. In the '80s, Ben helps the Losers' Club come to terms with and understand the historical context for Pennywise’s return to Derry. As a kid, Ben is known to be a New Kids on the Block fan and a generally shy person - that is, until he joins the Losers' Club. Ben is portrayed by Jeremy Ray Taylor (Goosebumps 2: Haunted Halloween) in IT Chapter One, and Jay Ryan (Top of the Lake) in IT Chapter Two.

Richie Tozier

Once again being played by Stranger Things star Finn Wolfhard, Richie Tozier is the most out-spoken member of the Losers' Club. For IT Chapter Two, Saturday Night Live alum Bill Hader stars as Richie in the 2016 timeline. The character provides comic relief in the original film and was extremely reluctant to face Pennywise, though he ultimately sides with his friends for the final fight. IT Chapter Two, meanwhile, reveals that Richie grew up to be a DJ in Los Angeles. 

Wolfhard is primarily known for his role as Mike on Stranger Things, though he's also nabbed roles in The Goldfinch and Ghostbusters 2020. Hader is the creator and star of the HBO series Barry and has been both a prominent actor and voice actor on the big and small screens, appearing in productions from Knocked Up to The Venture Bros to Toy Story 4.

Mike Hanlon

Chosen Jacobs reprises his role as Mike Hanlon from IT Chapter One in IT Chapter Two, with Isaiah Mustafa playing the older version in the sequel film. Mike views himself as an outsider, but he’s welcomed into the Losers' Club by Richie early on. Like his peers, Mike has a difficult relationship with his father. In the 2016 narrative, Mike works as a Derry librarian and warns the Losers' Club members about It’s return.

Jacobs has a recurring role as Will Grover on the CBS series Hawaii Five-0. Mustafa, on the other hand, is best known for starring in a series of Old Spice commercials, and he also starred in the Freeform series Shadowhunters.

Eddie Kaspbrak

In both films, Jack Dylan Grazer stars as the Losers' Club member Eddie Kaspbrak. Like Bill, he sees visions of Georgie, and struggles with his over-protective mother. James Ransone joins the IT Chapter Two cast as the 2016 version of Kaspbrak, a married New York City entrepreneur.

Grazer portrayed a younger version of Timothée Chalamet’s character in the 2018 movie Beautiful Boy and starred in the DC blockbuster Shazam!. Ransone previously starred in HBO's The Wire, and portrays The Deputy in the Sinister movie franchise, so it's clear he has some horror experience.

Stanley Uris

Portrayed by Wyatt Oleff in IT Chapter One, Stanley Uris refuses to believe that Pennywise is real. He’s arguably the most nervous member of the Losers' Club, and tries to maintain control over situations. For IT Chapter Two, Andy Bean stars as the older version of Stanley, an Atlanta accounting professional.

Oleff plays young Peter Quill in both Guardians of the Galaxy and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. Bean starred as Greg Knox in the Starz series Power, and also portrayed Alec Holland in the short-lived DC Universe series Swamp Thing.

Henry Bowers

Nicholas Hamilton returns as the malicious town bully, Henry Bowers, with Teach Grant portraying the older version in IT Chapter Two. Henry actively challenges the Losers' Club members, only to be referred to as a “paper man” by his father, whom he ultimately murders in the first film. During the sequel, Henry escapes from an asylum and chases after the Losers' Club.

Hamilton previously had roles in Captain Fantastic and The Dark Tower, another Stephen King adaptation. Grant has appeared in the series Altered Carbon and Van Helsing.

The Leper

In both films, this homeless character is a warped version of Pennywise. Javier Botet reprises his role as the Leper for IT Chapter Two. The Spanish actor previously starred as Tristana Medeiros in the found-footage movie franchise REC, and recently portrayed The Toe Monster in Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark.

Georgie Denbrough

Jackson Robert Scott reprises his role as Bill’s brother, Georgie, who is killed at the beginning of IT Chapter One, and haunts the Losers' Club throughout the rest of the film, namely his brother. Scott's other big role, besides Georgie, is Bode Locke in the series Locke & Key.

Alvin Marsh

Beverly’s abusive father, Alvin Marsh, is portrayed by Stephen Bogaert in both IT Chapter One and IT Chapter Two. In the sequel, Beverly’s emotional issues as an adult are connected to her experiences with Alvin. Bogaert is known for roles in American Psycho and X-Men: Apocalypse, and he's been the narrator on the TV documentary Air Emergency for several years.

Next: IT Chapter Two: Cast & Character Guide

source https://screenrant.com/it-chapter-two-returning-characters-first-movie/

[fashiontrendin-blog]

Can Men Be Objectified? A Response to the “Twink” Controversy

https://fashion-trendin.com/can-men-be-objectified-a-response-to-the-twink-controversy/

Can Men Be Objectified? A Response to the “Twink” Controversy

Not since the dawn of the so-called “dadbod” has there been so much online discourse surrounding the male torso. When The New York Times published “Welcome to the Age of the Twink” by Nick Haramis earlier this month, it provoked a pretty strong reaction, ranging from derision from gay men who felt the term “twink” had been appropriated, to those who questioned the author’s assertion that a slender frame somehow defies traditional masculinity.

It’s not uncommon for straight people to go on safari in LGBTQ culture and come back with a souvenir, but what made this take especially lukewarm was the fact that Vulture writer Kyle Buchanan essentially wrote the same piece in June 2017. It almost goes without saying, too, that slender white guys have carried cultural and sexual currency in the west for centuries.

“Aside from the obvious – a straight twink can’t exist – the conflation of slimness and, for the most part, whiteness to success is problematic,” writes Dazed’s Dominic Cadogan, “not least because that is the way it has been for what feels like forever.”

Still, it’s relatively rare for the media to apply this kind of scrutiny to white male bodies in pop culture, an activity usually aimed at women. In fact, this kind of dissection often picks up speed the further you get from cisgender white men; black, queer and trans women, for example, seem to face exponential judgment and punishment compared to their majority counterparts. In a recent piece for Allure, writer Katelyn Burns described the constant societal policing of trans women’s looks as an “impossible balancing act.”

That isn’t to say cishet men in the public eye have been immune to increasingly unrealistic body standards. When Hugh Jackman first donned those adamantium claws to play Wolverine in 2000’s X-Men, he looked tough as hell, sure, but still kinda cuddly. Cut to more than a decade later, and his torso in The Wolverine and Days of Future Past was hulking and vascular, presumably all the better to make this immortal character seem invincible. That uber-muscular ideal — which writer Mark Simpson, the creator of the term “metrosexual,” named “spornosexual” — can be seen in the majority of leading men today (the internet still mourns the loss of Chris Pratt’s pre-Guardians of the Galaxy tummy), which is perhaps why the Tom Hollands and Timothée Chalamets of Hollywood are making such a stir.

Superheroes and their rippling physiques are a power fantasy, and so this kind of onscreen imagery only serves to further entrench the idea that men’s bodies are totems of power

Of course, showing a man’s bulging pectorals in an action movie isn’t quite the same as the camera lingering on a woman’s breasts or buttocks. Superheroes and their rippling physiques are a power fantasy, and so this kind of onscreen imagery only serves to further entrench the idea that men’s bodies are totems of power, even if the internet sets about making thirsty GIF-sets of Chris Hemsworth’s torso at the same time.

Can there ever be such a thing as equal-opportunity objectification, then, when traditional gender dynamics carry such a historic power imbalance? I asked that question to Man Repeller’s Deputy Editor, Haley Nahman.

“Some guy once told me that he thought the solution to neutralizing the male gaze was for women to simply objectify men,” she says. “It was an annoying comment for multiple reasons, not least of which was his implication that it was women’s responsibility to even the playing field. I told him that seemed like spreading the harm more than supplanting it. I’d always been put off by the idea that, to use a cheap example, women whooping at male strippers in Magic Mike somehow subverted the patriarchy. It never felt like that to me. After all, these men weren’t truly disempowered by the whooping … Most men will never truly understand the all-encompassing female experience of objectification.”

Alice is a social media professional, writer and DJ with a slightly different perspective on the female lens and how Magic Mike XXL, rippling flesh and all, can actually be read as an empowering feminist film. She points to the interiority granted to each beefcake character, and the way the narrative privileges women and their needs, as refreshing and necessary alternatives to what audiences have been conditioned to expect from media.

“The film writes a new blueprint for who a jacked-up male entertainer can be — these are emotionally literate gentle giants who vocally support each other’s dreams,” says Alice. “Magic Mike XXL depicts a feminist utopia which works for women and men. It celebrates women of color, fat women, queer women, older women. Utopian art gives us comfort and hope, allowing us to draw a path from our world to a better one.”

As might be said of any subculture, these tribes emerged at least partially out of an innate need for belonging and evolved over time into entire communities of their own

The fact that twinkhood is being so widely discussed could be seen as similarly encouraging — a new era wherein all forms are celebrated. After all, the gay community has proliferated seemingly inclusive terminology for all kinds of body types, such as bears and otters. As might be said of any subculture, these groups emerged at least partially out of an innate need for belonging and evolved over time into entire communities of their own. And yet, the most common kind of LGBTQ representation to be found in pop culture is still the conventionally handsome cisgender white man, evidently the form most palatable to mainstream audiences. It’s unlikely we’ll be seeing a New York Times article heralding the age of the bear any time soon.

“If we are going to make queer culture more diverse, we need to seriously interrogate the language and tribes we have built up over the years,” writes i-D’s André-Naquian Wheeler in a piece titled, “Why Can’t Black Men Be Twinks?” He points out that Jaden Smith is the only non-white person mentioned in Haramis’ original piece, despite there being a plethora of examples (he cites Pharrell as being “peak twink,” and I can’t say I disagree).

“Opening up twinkdom to black people also requires opening up the qualifiers,” Wheeler continues. “Because black men and white men have very different standard physical features. Twinks, bears, otters — what are these words actually describing? I don’t have the answer, and maybe none of us do, but it’s important we ask the question.”

When we ogle male bodies, and adopt and perpetuate new, seemingly arbitrary criteria for male desirability à la “the age of the twink,” are we really pushing the boundaries of traditional muscle-bound hyper-masculinity? Or simply enacting the same objectification that has oppressed women for so long?

It can only be a good thing that we are examining the complex issue of masculinity as it pertains to and shapes pop culture. But taking the pressure off men to be uber-muscular Men’s Health cover models, only to replace that with another unrealistic ideal, is not conducive to productive discourse. As Spencer Kornhaber of The Atlantic writes: “[M]aybe someday, men and women, straight and queer alike, might come to know how it feels to be more coherently discussed as people, rather than as meat.”

Philip Ellis is a freelance writer and journalist from the U.K. You can follow him on Twitter @Philip_Ellis

Feature photo by Taylor Hill/Getty Images.

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[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Title Of Your Sex Tape

Chapter Seven: Maybe This Is Danger

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight

All my work is 18+.

It’s 5am, we feel so good it’s almost frightening. It’s 5am; I’m made for you, we can’t deny it.- Måneskin, HONEY (ARE U COMING?)

Lea stirred, rolling over in the warmth of the bed with a soft, unintelligible murmur. Squinting her eyes open, she saw…

She saw Tim fast asleep beside her, his curls hanging in his eyes and his lips slightly parted. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she remembered everything that had happened the night before.

He’d… and then she’d… and they had…

Holy fucking shit.

Lea pushed herself up into a sitting position, blinking at the light filtering through the curtains that lined two of the walls of Tim’s bedroom.

The blankets had pooled at her hips, and she flushed at the realization that she was still naked. Climbing out of bed, she wobbled a bit on unsteady feet.

“Be careful,” came Tim’s raspy, sleep-ridden voice. Lea’s head whipped around, and she saw him rubbing his eyes blearily. “What’re you doing up, anyway? Come back to bed.”

She blinked at him over her shoulder. “I— shouldn’t I, y’know… leave?”

He frowned at her. “Leave? Why in the hell would you leave?” he scoffed quietly. “No, Lea. You most definitely should not leave. You should come back to bed and get some more rest before I take it upon myself to fuck you again.”

“You want me to stay?” she squeaked out, shocked. “Don’t one night stands usually leave, like…?”

“Yes,” he said impatiently, “I obviously want you to stay. I’d rather be holding you at the moment, as magnificent as this view of your ass is.” He paused. “And what the hell do you mean one night stand? Who said this was a one night stand?”

It took her a second to process this. “I… I’m not a one night stand?”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “No. I thought I made it abundantly clear that I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“You— you do?” she stuttered out, astonished.

“I really, really like you, y’know. Of course I want you to be my girlfriend.” He paused, looking a bit nervous. “If— if you’d want that, I mean. I figured since you said you like me, you’d want to be with me, too. Was I wrong?”

She looked down at the floor. “You weren’t wrong, no.”

“So… what’s the issue, then?” he said slowly.

“I mean… you, like…” She didn’t know how to relay her concerns about his career without shaming him. It wasn’t that what he did was wrong, that wasn’t it all.

“What is it?” he asked gently.

“You’re a pornstar, Tim,” she explained, her voice quiet.

He was silent for a moment. “So?”

“So… doesn’t that make, like… dating not an option for you?”

His frown deepened. “No. Why would it?”

“Well…” she hedged. “You sleep with other girls for a living. Like. That’s your whole job. Am I just not supposed to be jealous of that?”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Are you jealous of that?”

She flushed. “Yeah, of course I am.”

“Baby,” he sighed, propping himself on an elbow, “sex between you and me has meaning. Sex at work is literally just work. It doesn’t mean anything the way it does with you. If you agree to this, I’d only be with you romantically, and other than work, I’m not touching anyone else.” Another pause. “Is that something you’d want with me?” 

“Of course I want that with you, Tim,” she sighed.

“Then…” She could almost hear him gulp. “Would you be willing to look past my job?” He hesitated. “I— I promise I’ll be faithful to you.” 

“I know you will.” She clasped her hands beneath her abdomen, wringing them anxiously.

“God, your tits look amazing when you do that,” he observed.

She glanced down at herself, realized he could see her body, oh god, how had she not thought of that, of course he could see her, even in the low light of his bedroom, and she scrambled back into bed as quickly as possible, pulling the covers up over her head.

“Why’re you embarrassed?” Tim asked, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her against his bare chest. “You’re way too sexy to be embarrassed about your body.”

“I’ve never done this before,” she reminded him in a grumble. “I’m not used to guys seeing me naked.”

He hummed thoughtfully, pulling the covers down to reveal her head and burying his face in her curls. “No other guy ever has to see you naked if that’s what you’d prefer,” he murmured. “I certainly wouldn’t have any objections to that. In fact, as your boyfriend, I’d prefer that.” His arms tightened around her slightly. “I… I am your boyfriend, right?”

She smiled softly despite herself, closing her eyes and leaning into him again. “Yeah.”

In the weeks that followed, Lea’s relationship with Tim changed very little, for all intents and purposes. She helped him when they were at the studio, complied whenever he wanted to take her shopping or to dinner, and she did homework on his couch.

There were a few things, however, that had changed. For starters, Tim freely admitted that he was now going to do exactly as he liked in relation to her without holding back in the slightest, which generally involved touching her, kissing her, and a lot—a lot—of sex.

He was an extremely touchy-feeling individual, always had been, and it seemed that the floodgates had been opened, meaning he was forever holding her, nuzzling her, kissing her, and/or groping her. She didn’t mind it, really. In fact, she enjoyed it so much it was downright embarrassing.

One Monday evening, she dozed lightly after they’d finished. He was running his hands over her skin affectionately, occasionally squeezing her breasts without thinking about it.

“Lea?” Tim asked after awhile.

“Mmf,” she grunted into the pillow.

“Do you really have to go home tomorrow?”

“I have class the day after, so yeah,” she mumbled.

“You could just stay here,” he pointed out, pressing a slow kiss to her bare shoulder. “With me.”

“But it’s a school night,” she reminded him, parroting back what her mom had told her every time she’d wanted to have a sleepover on a Sunday.

Tim snorted. “You’re an adult, sweetheart. You can stay here if you want to, whether you have school or not.” He started kissing her neck and squeezing her breast. “I don’t work the days you have school, y’know. I could drive you. We could fuck before you went in and when you got home.”

He twisted her nipple, and she whimpered softly, biting her lip. “Are you, like… asking me to stay here… long-term?”

“Mhm,” he hummed against her skin. “Makes it easier, don’t you think?” With that, he slid a hand between her legs. “I could hold you whenever I want, kiss you whenever I want. Fuck you whenever I want. Wouldn’t that be nice, baby?”

“Mhm,” she breathed as he started rubbing her clit.

“I want you with me all the time,” he told her. “You make me so happy, Lea.”

“You make me happy, too,” she admitted.

“Yeah?” She could feel the smile on her skin, hear it in his voice. “God, I fuckin’ adore you. Move in with me, sweetheart. Please.”

She giggled. “Okay. I’ll stay here if you want me to that bad.”

“Oh, I want you in a hell of a lot of ways.”

“Fuck, baby,” Tim groaned, his hand tightening in her hair as he fucked her mouth. “Just like that. Fuck.”

At that exact moment, there was a swift rapping on the door to his dressing room. “You’re needed on set, Tim!”

“Alright,” he called out in a voice that was far too controlled-sounding for someone who was currently having their dick sucked.

Lea pulled off of him and wiped the saliva from her lips without looking up at him. It was harder now that they were having sex and living together. He said he liked her an insane amount, but it was growing into more than that for her. She was fully cognizant of the fact that she was falling in love with him and could do absolutely nothing to stop it. So this— having to let him go so he could be with other girls the same way he’d only just been with her, it was… difficult. She did it, though. She adored him, so she did it.

He put two fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face up. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I know you want it. I’ll fuck you as soon as I’m done, alright?”

She nodded, allowing him to help her to her feet. Sliding a hand into her hair again, he pulled her in for a kiss that was hungry and desperate. He pulled away after a moment, though.

“Wish it wasn’t Mackenzie.”

“You really don’t like her, huh?” she observed.

He grimaced. “She yells at the production crew and is incredibly entitled. No, I don’t like her. No idea how I managed before I had you.”

With a wink, he strolled from the room.

“Tim!” came Mackenzie’s high-pitched screech through the door of the dressing room. “You can’t just storm off to fuck your girlfriend at the end of a scene!”

“I need my fluffer!”

Lea looked up from her phone at the sound of his voice, blinking in surprise, and was about to stand, unsure of what to do as she heard the sound of his bare feet on the linoleum. The door to his dressing room opened then, and his eyes searched the space frantically for her before fixating on her unblinking stare.

She glanced down at his dick. He was hard still, leaking precum from the tip. Within seconds, he locked the door behind him and strode over to her.

“Fuck,” Tim groaned, reaching for her breasts with one hand and her ass with the other. 

She moved away hastily, her back hitting the wall. He froze.

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

This was a valid question for someone who didn’t—couldn’t—understand her predicament. After all, she’d never refused him before and was always eager for his touch.

“You were just with another girl,” she reminded him.

Tim looked confused. “Yeah, for work,” he said slowly. “I was having to think about you to stay hard.” He took a hesitant step towards her, gauging her reaction closely. “The girls they put me with, they’re either gonna be my type in about twenty years or they’re these tiny little things with nothing to grab onto. It’s very difficult to imagine you’re them when they look nothing like you.” 

She tensed at the further reminder of other women. How many had he fucked that day? She didn’t want to know.

He took another step forward. “Please, baby,” he practically begged. “I’ve basically been edging for the past two hours, thinking about how much I want you, that I wasn’t here to take care of my baby girl, fill her little pussy up and keep her satisfied, and if I don’t get inside you, I’m fairly certain I’m going to go insane.”

He was close to her now. She could kiss him if she wanted. It wouldn’t be difficult. No more than it usually was with their height difference, anyway.

“I wiped myself down,” he promised. “Don’t you want me to give it to you nice and hard, just the way you like?” He was speaking softly, his offer of pleasure oh so tempting. “Fill you with my cum and use my fingers to keep every drop inside you so you’re never empty?” After a moment, he added, “That said, I won’t pressure you if you really don’t want to.”

God, Lea could never resist him when he talked like that. Her lips parted, and his gaze fixated on them. He knew her tells. 

His eyes dilated, and he slammed his mouth against hers, gripping her thighs briefly and reaching up beneath her skirt to yank her panties down and off. 

Tim stroked between her legs, groaning when he touched her heat. “So fucking wet for me,” he muttered, kissing her hungrily. 

He tasted different. 

She ignored it.

Tim pressed her up against the wall, his nude body looming over her. “Pull your shirt down, angel,” he purred. “Let me see those tits.” She did so, reaching into her bra and shirt and pulling her breasts from their confines. He reached up to tug her nipples, twisting them lightly. “Fuck, baby. I wanna watch them bounce while I remind you who owns that pretty little pussy.”

Something odd about Tim, she had learned, was that despite his choice in career, he was inexplicably possessive.

“You do,” she breathed as he hiked her legs up around his hips, holding her up by her ass. 

Tim slammed into her with a groan, and she inhaled sharply, her head thunking against the wall behind her. “God, Lea,” he gasped, immediately fucking her hard and fast against the wall. “Fuck, no one feels the way you do.”

“Tim,” she moaned, her eyes fluttering. “I— that’s so good, I—“

He leaned forward to mouth at her neck, and she arched against him. “Yeah?” he rasped in her ear. “Feels good getting fucked, babydoll? You like it?” He started mouthing at her neck and squeezing her ass, his fingers digging into her skin.

“I like it, I like it,” she chanted desperately. “Fuck, don’t stop, more—“

“My greedy girl,” he murmured, slamming into her. “So tight and wet for me, baby. All for me, isn’t it? Pussy’s all mine?”

“Uh huh,” she managed to force out. “God, you’re so big—“

“Nobody else could fill you up like I can, could they, sweetheart?”

“N— no, I—“

Tim rewarded her with another thrust. “Good girl. That’s my good girl.”

“More, please,” she begged, holding him close. He felt so good inside her. “Please, don’t stop, please—“

“Anything you want, Lea,” he promised, kissing her hungrily. “I’ll fuck you anytime you want, make you cum as much as you want, but you whatever you want. Whatever you want, fuck.”

“You,” she said without hesitation. “Just you, please, oh god, Tim, I—“

“I know,” he murmured, nipping at her lower lip affectionately. “You’ve got me, sweetheart. ‘m all yours.”

He wasn’t, not really, but she told herself that that was okay. It was okay.

“Are you mine, Lea?” he wanted to know, watching her with dark, lidded eyes. She nodded eagerly. Apparently, however, her lack of verbal response was inadequate, because his grip on her ass tightened enough to bruise, which she kinda hoped it would, to be honest. “If you’re mine, tell me. Tell me you’re mine. Only mine.”

“I’m yours,” Lea managed. “I belong to you, just you, I—“ Her words were cut off by a particularly harsh thrust that made her body jolt and her eyelashes flutter. “Oh, fuck, Tim, I—“

“That’s it,” he grunted. “You like it? You like it when I fill your greedy little pussy, my fuckin’ pussy, baby, all mine, I own it.” He was babbling, but his words made her clench around him. “You like it when I fuck you all full of my cum, Lea?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. “Need this, need you, need you inside me like this, I need it.”

“Of course you do,” he crooned, his voice a sugar-sweet murmur against the shell of her ear. “Poor, innocent little Lea. Had my dick and now you can’t get enough, huh? Got turned into a greedy cockslut, didn’t you?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, hauling him up to kiss her again. “Only for you, Tim,” she promised. “Only if it’s you.”

“Always me, babydoll,” he agreed easily. “Nobody else. Not ever, you got that? Only dick you’ll ever take.”

“Yeah,” she moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair as he jackhammered into her, the sound of skin slapping against skin bouncing off the walls of his dressing room. She didn’t know if anyone outside the room could hear them, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care one way or the other. “Yeah, Tim, just you, just you, I swear—“

“Fuckin’ take it, sweetheart,” he growled, sucking a fresh bruise into the sensitive skin of her throat. “Take this cock like the dirty little slut I turned you into.”

“Harder, harder, more—“

“Nuh uh,” he snapped sharply. “Who decides what you get, Lea?”

“You do,” she acquiesced with a whimper even as her walls clenched down on him.

“That’s a good girl,” Tim praised, his voice raspy and thick with arousal. She was drenched; the sounds of their desperate, hungry fucking were wet and obscene, but she never wanted to hear anything else but that, the sounds of them together and his voice telling her that he adored her, that she belonged to him. “My good girl.”

She wished she could take him deeper inside her, wished she could melt into him entirely, and her legs tightened around his waist as he pounded into her. “Fuck me, please, god, Tim, fuck me—“

“I am fucking you, greedy girl,” he pointed out with a dark chuckle. “Splitting this little pussy open on my dick.”

“Uh huh,” she whined, her walls clenching around him rhythmically. “Yeah, that feels— oh fuck, Tim, gimme—“

“Givin’ it to you, baby,” he muttered. “Gonna fuck you as much as you want, I promise.”

“Kiss me,” she pleaded, suddenly overcome with a desperate need to feel his mouth against her own. “Kiss me, please.”

She could feel his smile against her lips when he obliged her, tugging her lower lip gently between his teeth before sucking her tongue into his mouth. She moaned, her fingers tightening in his curls, her breasts pressed against his chest.

When Tim pulled away, he began pressing wet, messy kisses into the skin of her face and neck, mouthing at the tops of her breasts. Still, he fucked her, each slide of his cock somehow better than the last, and she wished, however impossibly, that she could have this forever, that this complete and utter bliss could never end.

“Baby,” he groaned, panting hotly against the already flushed—sensitive, bruised—skin of her throat. “God, baby.”

“‘m yours, Tim,” she whimpered, her eyes clenched shut from the overwhelming amount of pleasure coursing through her veins like a drug. “All yours.”

“You’re goddamn right you are,” he almost growled. “Wanna feel this tight little pussy cum for me. You want that, baby? You wanna cum all over my cock?”

Want fluttered in her abdomen, and she nodded eagerly. “Yes, please, please make me cum.”

“Touch yourself, then,” he demanded, fucking her harder, impossibly harder. “Rub that pretty little clit until you cum.”

As soon as the words registered in her fucked-out brain, she snaked a hand between them, brushing a fingertip over her throbbing, oversensitive clit, and he rewarded her by digging his fingers into her ass and slamming into her. 

“Good girl,” he praised, watching her face closely, eyes dark and pupils blown with lust. “Rub it, sweetheart. So pretty when you cum, when you’re getting your sweet little pussy pounded.”

She barely even needed to move her hand at all because his thrusts were jolting her body enough that that was all that was needed to stimulate her, really, and she moaned, her hips trying to roll against his but unable to with the tight hold he had on her. She couldn’t speak; all that came out of her mouth were mindless cries of, “Unh, unh, unh, ah, oh—“

And still, through it all, Tim talked to her. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Cum for me, Lea. Such a dirty thing, aren’t you? Needing to be fucked and filled, to cum with a cock deep inside your slutty, eager little pussy?”

She could do nothing but moan wordlessly, her toes curling as she neared her peak.

“C’mon, babydoll,” he groaned. “Can feel you ‘bout to cum, sweetheart. C’mon. Give it to me. Own this pussy, every fuckin’ orgasm you have belongs to me. My pretty little slut, fuckin’ cum for me, baby, c’mon—“

And then she did, her back arching and muscles spasming as she cried out. Tim didn’t even give her body time to calm down before he crashed his lips to hers, kissing her bitingly as he fucked into her.

“Gonna cum,” he warned into her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to encourage him. “‘m gonna—“ He wasn’t able to finish the thought, because he flooded her with a groan of her name, his thrusts becoming harsh and slow and deep. 

It wasn’t until several minutes later, when they were relaxing on the couch with her in his lap, that it occurred to her that she was in love with him.

The happiest of birthdays to my bestie @softhecreator, you’re fuckin awesome girl and if anyone tells you different lmk and I’ll take care of it 😘

Also yeah I was horny when I wrote the smut here idk what else to tell you bro 🤷‍♀️

Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19 @chalametbich

To be added, please ask 💗

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Return to the Water

Chapter Five: Her.

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight nine

Until now, he told me her name; it sounded familiar in a way. I could have sworn I’d heard him say it ten thousand times.—Sara Bareilles, Between the Lines

The first time Lea looked in a mirror, her initial thought was that she looked a lot like her mother and sisters. Her second thought was that she wasn’t sure she liked—or disliked, for that matter—the way she looked.

Lea was practicing walking, her arms outstretched on either side of her as she wobbled awkwardly. Just as Timothée caught her in his arms, the front door slammed open.

“What the hell is going on?” an unfamiliar female voice demanded shrilly. “And who is this?”

“Kylie!” Timothée exclaimed, sounding surprised and hastily helping Lea onto a nearby couch. He bounded over to the human female—his mate from the boat, she recalled, jealousy and pain twisting in her stomach—and started talking to her swiftly and quietly. She wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, but Lea couldn’t hear what was said.

After a minute or two, the woman turned to her, her too-big lips pinched but her face otherwise strangely expressionless, and said,  “Thank you for saving my boyfriend.” She said the last two words with a strange amount of enunciation that Lea didn’t know what to make of.

She nodded slightly. “I’m Lea,” she said, her voice polite. The situation had become complicated enough; she didn’t want to be on bad terms with her mate’s so-called girlfriend, no matter how jealous she was, how much it hurt.

“Lea was also hurt in the… accident,” Timothée said delicately. “She has amnesia about a lot of things and she needs help relearning how to walk.”

“That’s hardly your responsibility,” the woman—Kylie—said primly.

“She saved my life,” he pointed out. “Helping her however I can is the least I can do.”

Kylie pursed those too-big lips again, looking Lea up and down. “You know, Lea,” Kylie began, enunciating Lea’s name to a strange degree, “as a thank you for saving my boyfriend, why don’t I get you in touch with some people who can really help you bring out your inner beauty?” Kylie smiled. “With a good surgeon and tanning technician, you could have some serious potential. Some—well, a lot of—liposuction here, a nice tan there— Why don’t you let me show you how to make yourself prettier?”

Lea stared at her for several seconds, genuinely confused. Timothée, meanwhile, was standing beside them, flabbergasted and horrified at the exchange. 

“I don’t understand,” she finally said. “Do you think you’re prettier than I am?”

Kylie sneered. “Well, I am a supermodel, as you know.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Lea said. “And I honestly have no idea who you are.”

Kylie faltered, her expression falling slightly for reasons Lea couldn’t comprehend. “I don’t blame you for being upset that I’m gorgeous,” she said.

“I’m sure you look very good for your age,” Lea allowed.

“I’m two years younger than him!” Kylie snapped, jerking her chin at a very uncomfortable-looking Timothée. 

Lea blinked. In mermaid society, you never lied to people about their appearance. To tell someone your honest opinion of them is a sign of respect. “You’re two years younger than he is and you look like this and think you’re gorgeous? But… you’re not.”

“What?” Kylie demanded sharply. Timothée’s eyes flitted back and forth between the two women rapidly.

“You’re actually quite strange looking to me,” Lea informs Kylie simply. “Your skin reminds me of an orange starfish in coloring, and you look old enough to be my mother. I’ve seen women of all shapes and sizes, but I’ve never seen a woman with a body like yours. It’s all wrong, like something’s off about you. Your waist is so small it looks wrong. You don’t look… I don’t know how to put it.” Lea paused, considering. “You don’t look real. You look like a doll made from plastic. Your lips look like they got stung by a jellyfish, and your butt looks like it’s been inflated. Plus your face is frozen, almost, like you can’t move it,” she explained. Then, she smiled. It was always good to be honest about the traits—both physical and otherwise—of another mermaid, so how could it be any different with humans? “Now you know,” she added.

Kylie’s expression was still stilted, but there was fury in her eyes. “I see,” she said with a sneer. “Well, at least I’m not fat.”

Lea blinked. “Oh, you’re insulting me,” she observed. “Now I understand. You’re being mean.” She tilted her head to the side. “But I don’t understand why. How odd.” She turned to Timothée, who looked horrified beyond all measure. “Is she usually mean?”

“She’s— well, I—“ he sputtered.

“Quiet, Timothée,” Kylie snapped. Timothée shut his mouth obediently, and Lea frowned. Her sister and her mate—who was a mermaid—never behaved like this with one another. Was it typical with humans?

“You are strange,” Lea decided after a moment.

“You—“ Kylie started to hiss.

“She is the reason I’m standing here,” Timothée finally interjected. “Lea, I know you’re unused to… normal customs,” he began with careful wording, “but for future reference, it’s usually best not to make critical comments on another person’s appearance.” He looked at Kylie again. “And stop underhandedly insulting Lea. You have her to thank for still having a boyfriend at all.”

Kylie bristled, her jellyfish sting-looking lips pursed, but nodded.

“Oh,” Lea said after a moment. “I’m sorry, Kylie,” she said sincerely. “Where I come from, it’s considered respectful to be honest about the way someone else looks.”

“Honest?” Kylie growled.

“Lea,” Timothée sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What, what’d I say?”

Lea came up from the villa’s pool, spitting and coughing. “What,” she gagged, “is that?”

“What do you mean?” asked Timothée, who was—in Lea’s opinion, because she significantly was better at it—pathetically treading water.

“It’s not water.”

“How is it not water?” Timothée said, exasperated.

“It— it smells wrong, it tastes wrong—“

“Why are you breathing in the pool?” he laughed.

“I breathe when I swim, I don’t think about it,” Lea said, frustrated. “That’s even weirder than the stuff that comes out of those faucet-things. Why would you want anything but salt in your water?”

Timothée just laughed and dunked his head under the so-called water. 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Lea—“

“No!” Lea said again. “I am not getting on that metal bird-monster you call a rareplane—“

“It’s an airplane,” Timothée corrected. “And it will take us to the other side of the country, which is where I live—“

“I can swim there just fine,” she said immediately.

“Kylie is letting me use her jet to take you there—very begrudgingly, I might add; she is not happy about me living with another woman—so would you please cooperate?”

“I’m meant to be in the ocean, not the sky,” she muttered as she climbed the ladder. At least she could walk well enough now. “It’s against the Goddess, I’m certain of it.”

“Of course it is,” Timothée said indulgently.

“Is this a house or a palace?” Lea wanted to know, looking up at Timothée’s estate.

“A house,” he said defensively. “Let me show you around. C’mon.” They went inside the—in Lea’s opinion—ridiculously large building, and Timothée gestured to the right. “Kitchen and dining room. A living room is on the left.” They went down a flight of stairs. “Here’s another one. Movie room is over there.” He pointed to the other side of the room.

“Can we watch one of yours?”

“Nope,” he said immediately, hastily continuing. “My room’s that way—“ he gestured to their right— “and down the hallway. Any time you need anything, just let me know.” He continued down a hallway in front of them, gesturing as he went. “Laundry room, but the maid’ll take care of that.” He reached the end of the hallway. “Second staircase is over there. And this—“ he opened a door— “is your room.” He stepped inside, and she followed him slowly, hesitantly. “It’s the biggest one, except for mine. And there’s a door outside, in case you wanna run to the ocean or something. Do your mermaid stuff, I dunno.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly before gesturing down a hallway on one end of the room. “Closet through that door, bathroom through that one. If you’re not sure how to work something or where something is, again just let me know.”

“There’s one of those screens,” Lea observed.

“Uh huh, yeah, a TV,” Timothée confirmed with a nod. “Got whatever streaming service you want. You remember how it works?” He smiled when Lea nodded in response.

“Now,” Lea decided, going towards the wraparound bench below a similar window, the ocean visible and calling to her. “I think I’ll go stretch my fins— well, you know what I mean.”

“Oh, there’s a pool if you wanna—“

“One of those fake miniature oceans that has no salt and tastes like your weird human chemicals?” she snorted. “No thanks. I’ll stick to the real thing.” She rifled through her suitcase for one of those bikinis he got her.

“You’re, uh.” Timothée swallowed. “You’re gonna wear the blue Zimmermann bikini, huh?”

“The panties-type things on this one feel almost like I’m not wearing anything, which is what I do most of the time, so I prefer it,” Lea explained, unfastening the top of the swimsuit so she could put it on.

Timothée gaped at her. “W— what do you mean you prefer not to wear anything?”

“Your human panties feel weird on my new body parts, so I don’t wear them,” she explained, thinking nothing of it. 

Timothée looked down at her bare legs beneath the hem of her short floral dress. “You’re… you’re not wearing anything under that?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse for reasons Lea couldn’t have guessed. 

“Well, the bra is similar enough to my wrappings that it’s not terribly uncomfortable, but the panties are just too weird. Anyway, I’m gonna change into this thing.” She held up the swimsuit. It was lower cut than most of her wrappings.

When Lea emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later in the swimsuit, her sizable breasts shoved into the top, Timothée gaped at her. 

“Huh,” Lea said, surprised at his presence. “What, are you gonna swim, too? Don’t make me save you again. I dunno if giving you my breath would work now that I don’t have my tail.”

“I— I— I’m gonna swim, yeah.” His gaze raked over her. “Yeah. Definitely gonna go swimming with you.”

“I still think you secretly eat humans,” Lea decided after seeing the way he was looking at her.

“I do not eat humans.” Then, under his breath, he added, “At least, not like that.”

“Huh?” Lea said as she made her way out the set of double doors in her bedroom that led to the patio near the beach. “Sorry, didn’t hear you.”

“Nothing,” he said hastily. “Nothing at all.”

Big thanks to my beta @lilmaymayy

Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19

To be added, please ask 💗

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Return to the Water

Chapter One: Like Blood in the Water

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight nine

We barely met, and still I cross the street to your door.— Vanessa Carlton, Hands on Me

Humans were dangerous. Human men were the most dangerous of them all.

Lea knew that. And they scared her, but, well… humans were fascinating, the men in particular.

Especially one specific man. She didn’t want to get any closer to him—or any other human, really—other than watching him on his boat from her place behind a rock.

It wasn’t just his legs that fascinated her (although for a mermaid such as herself, they were very interesting). It was everything about him. When he was on the boat, his chest was often bare, and she could see how flat it was, so unlike her own chest. His form was long and slender, also unlike her own body. He drank often, slender fingers wrapped around a bottle, and he seemed to enjoy inhaling on a small white stick, exhaling smoke. He had a mate, she rather thought, for he frequently grabbed at a girl with black hair and skin that was almost orange. That was fine; she just liked to observe him, watch his dark hair curl over his brow, hear his musical laugh. 

She watched him laugh and drink and smoke, her curls swirling around her like blood in the water.

In the early hours of the morning, before the sun had risen, he was alone on the deck, watching the waves and dancing along to music she couldn’t hear very well. 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, he turned around abruptly, but he was too close to the edge of the boat and couldn’t seem to keep his balance. He toppled overboard, hitting his head as he hurtled towards the dark water and hit it with a splash.

Lea’s breath caught, and she waited, watching to see if he’d come back up.

He didn’t.

He’ll die, she realized. No one else is here to help him. He will die.

She dove beneath the waves, her sapphire blue tail propelling her towards where the human was sinking deeper and deeper into the water.

How long could humans go without air? She didn’t know, but she didn’t want to risk it. Upon reaching him, she found he was infinitely more beautiful up close, even in the darkness of the water. 

Not taking the time to examine his features, she grabbed his arms and pulled him towards her. His hair swirled around his face as she leaned in to press her lips to his, exhaling into his mouth.

Within seconds, he took a deep, gulping breath, though he didn’t awaken.

She couldn’t get him back on his boat, but hopefully his mate would find him where she dragged him ashore.

Timothée came to slowly, the sound of the waves exacerbating the pounding in his head. Forcing himself up onto his hands, he examined the beach he was on. What had happened? Where was he? Where was Kylie? God, she’d be pissed if she woke up and he wasn’t in bed with her.

And then—

And then his eyes landed on a girl near the tide. She was gasping, wheezing, clearly trying to turn herself back around to face the ocean again. He was pretty sure he’d fallen into the water; had she saved him? Shit, he should thank her. 

Wait, was that a tail? Did this girl have a fucking tail? Weird costume, but okay.

He couldn’t see her face, concealed as it was with red curls that dripped onto the wet sand.

“Hey, are— are you alright?” he asked, his voice hoarse from the saltwater. The girl’s head snapped up, dark brown eyes widening in horror. “You saved me, right?” He stumbled in his effort to stand. “Thank you. I dunno what would’ve happened if you hadn’t.” The girl—she was awfully pretty, actually, even with so little of her visible since she was propped up on her elbows that way—did nothing but look at him silently, so he added, “That’s a hell of a costume, by the way. The tail looks like it could be real.”

She looked panicked then, pushing on the sand in an apparent attempt to maneuver herself back towards the water.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her gently. “We should probably take the tail off so you can get to a doctor or something. Here, let me help—“

But when he stepped forward, his hand outstretched towards her, she bared her teeth in a hiss, and her tail flicked like a cat’s, almost.

He wondered how she managed that (and also why she’d hissed at him, because what the fuck?), but didn’t question it further. She’d saved him, so even if she was fairly weird, he needed to help her, too. “It’s okay,” he said again. “I’ll help. I won’t hurt you.”

She hissed again, pushing against the sand more frantically the closer he got to her. And then, when he finally brushed his fingertips against the skin of her bare shoulder, she collapsed back into the sand with a whimper.

Biiiiig thanks to my beta @lilmaymayy

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19

To be added, please ask 💗

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Return to the Water

Chapter Six: Most Nights

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight nine

Living on a shark’s teeth with you beside me, waiting for the water to bleed.— Simple Creatures, One Little Lie

Months passed and Lea had barely slept. Most nights, she watched the ocean, observing the waves. The sound of them called her home.

Over time, she had grown to love Timothée. Of course she had; he was her mate, after all. It was as inevitable as the tides themselves. But even so, she yearned to see her family again, to feel the salt of the sea on her scales. But as time passed, she resigned herself to reality: that would never happen. That life was gone to her now, and her days were numbered.

One night, she was on the patio between her and Timothée’s bedrooms, staring out at the ocean, listening to the waves and inhaling the sea air. It calmed her when little else could; her anxiety was even worse than normal these days. She knew why, she knew what—who—would genuinely help. But that wasn’t an option for her. He already had someone.

In loving Timothée, Lea had found peace with her own impending demise. She was content to see him happy. It was enough. But she was growing increasingly ill now, and she only had a couple of months left. She didn’t have her tail, but she was considering returning home anyway, to spend her last few weeks with her mother and sisters and the memory of the man she had come to love.

“Lea?” came a familiar but sleepy voice from behind her. She looked over her shoulder at him. “Can’t sleep again?”

She shrugged. “I rarely sleep.” When he frowned, she added, “It’s fine, Timothée. It’s normal for mermaids in my situation.”

“You still won’t tell me what your situation, as you put it, actually is.”

Lea turned to look back at the ocean, saying nothing for a long while, and Timothée eventually joined her on the bench. His shoulder brushed hers, bringing her such comfort and safety and warmth. Her eyes closed slowly, a small smile on her lips, and within perhaps a minute of him sitting down beside her, she’d dozed off.

“Lea? Lea!”

Lea blinked her eyes open, irritated at being woken up only half an hour after falling asleep. Then, she realized—to her horror—that she’d fallen asleep with him present, and only because he’d been touching her.

She stood abruptly, her cheeks red. “I— I’m gonna go to bed. Goodnight.” She hastily moved towards the door back to her bedroom, but Timothée grabbed her hand.

Warmth permeated her body once more, and she fought back a shudder.

“Lea.”

She looked over her shoulder at him.

“You talk in your sleep.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “So?”

“You said my name.” He took a step closer to her. “The way you said my name, it was…”

Lea tensed. “I don’t remember any dreams,” she said hurriedly, turning from him again. “I’m tired.”

“You’re always tired,” he pointed out. “You’re always exhausted, but you can never sleep. You barely eat anything anymore, even the fish I get brought over from the east coast for you, the ones you love so much.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. “I—“

“You’re not fine,” Timothée insisted firmly. “You think I don’t notice the bloody tissues in the trash can in your room?”

She winced, not looking back at him. “I— I get nosebleeds,” she lied, her voice defensive. “It’s none of your business, anyway—“

“There’s something wrong, Lea, and you won’t tell me what.” He gripped her hand firmly, spinning her around. “You saved my life, but more than that, you’re my friend. I care about you. Something’s wrong. I can tell. Is it a mermaid thing?”

“Yes,” she said hastily. “It’s a mermaid thing. Don’t worry about it, it’s perfectly natural.”

“But what is it?”

“I’m not discussing it with you, alright?” she said with a sigh. “Let go, please. I want to lay down.”

“No!” Timothée snapped. “Not alright. I’m not letting you go back inside until you explain to me what the hell is going on with you.”

“I’m not telling you, Timothée,” she said, her voice tired. “It’s not for you to worry about. Let me go.”

“No,” he told her firmly. “Tell me what’s going on. Now.”

Lea looked over his shoulder at the ocean, then looked back to him. “Alright,” she decided after a moment. “I’m dying.”

He blinked rapidly, dropping her hand in shock. “W— what?”

“I’m dying,” she said again. “It’s a perfectly normal part of a mermaid’s life cycle in my situation.”

“But you’re so young,” he said hoarsely. “What situation do you mean? What’s going on?”

“When I lost my tail,” Lea began slowly, being deliberately vague in her wording, “I obtained a mate.”

“You’ve mentioned a mate before,” Timothée recalled, trying to remember the details.

“There are several things a mermaid requires from her mate,” Lea continued. “The first is, well— a child.”

He blinked. “A what now?”

“A child,” she repeated. “We lose our tails when we obtain a mate, and we don’t have the ability to transform at will until after we give birth to our mate’s child.”

He stared at her, processing this information. “So… your mate, you need to have a baby with him?”

“That is the biological requirement for regaining my tail, yes,” Lea confirmed. “We also require our mate’s love.”

“In order to regain your tail?”

“No,” Lea said unblinkingly. “In order to live.”

His eyes widened. “What?” he asked, his voice soft and horrified. 

“After we obtain our mate,” she began, “we have one year for our mate to return our feelings or we will perish.”

“You don’t seem at all upset about that,” Timothée observed after a long moment.

She shrugged. “A fair percentage of mermaids die because of it. It’s not uncommon.”

“That’s… that’s so sad,” he decided.

“How long do you have?”

“Two months or so.”

Timothée stared at her in horror. “God, Lea, I— I’m so sorry.” He swallowed. “Your mate, who is he? Why doesn’t he feel that way about you?”

Lea flat out ignored the first question. “He already has someone else.”

“Have you told him what he is to you, what you need?” he asked gently. 

“No,” Lea said with a shrug. “He’ll be upset enough when I die. I don’t want to make him feel worse.”

“But he should know!” he insisted. “Shit, let me talk to him. How can you be okay with this?!”

She looked away, her cheeks stained red. “I get to be near him, to see him happy,” Lea admitted. “That’s enough.”

Timothée visibly deflated. “You’re content with just being near him and seeing him happy? What about your own happiness? What about your life?”

“He’s happy,” she said again. “That’s what matters.”

A pause, and she looked out at the ocean. The waves were getting rougher as the night went on. She loved it when it was like this, the currents running over and around her body.

“I’m going to go home, I think,” Lea decided.

“What? Why?”

“No witch here can help me,” Lea pointed out before snapping her gaze back to his. “I am going to die, Timothée. It’s inevitable. I want to see my family again before I go.”

“Lea,” he began, his voice hoarse. “I— I don’t want you to die.”

Lea smiled a bit at that. “That’s sweet of you,” she said. “I don’t mind it, though. Not really. It’s for him, in a way.” 

She looked back out at the ocean. Her gaze was still on it when, several moments later, Timothée spoke in a low, determined voice. “Tell me who he is.”

Lea’s eyes snapped back to him. “What? Why?”

“Tell me,” he persisted.

“N— no.”

His eyes hardened, and he took a step closer to her. “Tell me, Lea. Now.”

“Why do you want to know?” she demanded, feeling very uncomfortable indeed.

“So I can knock some goddamn sense into this idiot,” he decided.

Lea stared at him. “I won’t be telling you. It’s better if you don’t know.”

“Tell me!” he commanded, raising his voice, which he never did. “Let me talk to him!”

The shout sparked Lea’s ire.

“You wanna know who he is, where to find him?” she said lowly, her eyes blazing. “Fine. No need to go anywhere. My mate is right here.”

And with that, Lea turned and jumped the patio railing, leaping across the sand. She ripped her dress from her body as she went, along with her bra. Then she was naked, running towards the ocean. She heard him shout her name, but she ignored it, the sound of the waves drowning him out.

I’m going home.

Big thanks to my beta @lilmaymayy

Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19

To be added, please ask 💗

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Return to the Water

Chapter Seven: Into the Waves

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight nine

I try to resist, but the light’s getting low to a glow till you’re touching my lips.— Marianas Trench, Rhythm of Your Heart

Timothée’s brain didn’t work for nearly a minute after she told him he was her mate and jumped over the railing.

By that point, she was naked and wading into the waves. When he looked over at her, his heart stopped.

She was beautiful, like some sort of sea nymph or even a goddess. He couldn’t make out the details of her figure, but he caught a glimpse of her ass and her boobs, and Jesus Christ. Her entire body seemed to glow, the moonlight glinting off her pale skin and giving her an ethereal look. Her hair pooled in the water the deeper she got, and she looked at home there, amongst the rough waves. Like she belonged.

As Timothée ran, he called her name. She didn’t so much as look back at him. He ripped his shirt off, prepared to go in after her if he had to. He shouted her name again, and then—

And then Lea dove into the water.

——

Lea knew her mate was following her. She felt, however, that he wasn’t stupid enough to keep going once he realized how bad the waves were.

Apparently, she was mistaken. Suddenly, the splashing she heard above the surface ceased. She glanced behind her, and there he was, trying to swim back up to the surface but unable to keep his head above the rough waves.

Lea swore under her breath and turned around, swiftly hauling his stupid ass back to shore. Despite the fact that she had ridiculous human legs still, she was a hell of a lot better of a swimmer than any human could ever be.

She shoved him to safety, and he coughed up water.

“That’s the second time I’ve saved you from your own foolishness,” she reminded him before standing back up. “Don’t follow me again.”

“Lea,” he wheezed, looking up at her nude form with wide eyes. “Let me— just talk to me—“

“I’m not interested in having this conversation with you, Timothée.”

He panted, standing up as well. “Don’t I at least deserve an explanation?”

“I gave you one,” Lea reminded him. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to go die in peace.”

“If I don’t—“ he sputtered. “Of course I mind!”

“Well, you don’t exactly have a say in the matter,” she snapped. “You— mmf!”

Timothée grabbed her by the waist with one hand and hauled her towards him, his other hand cupping her cheek. And then, he pressed his lips to hers.

Lea was so startled—and so overcome with love and adoration, if she were honest with herself—that she could do nothing but stand there for a moment. When she finally regained her senses, however, she pushed away from him.

“What’d you do that for?” she demanded, her voice sharp.

He stared at her, his lips parted. Then, “I do have a say. If I’m your mate, I very much have a say.”

“You already have someone,” she reminded him firmly. “You’re happy with her. Don’t think I can’t see it.”

Timothée looked away. “I… I care about her,” he admitted. “But Lea, you’ll die without me loving you back. I’m not so much of an asshole that I’d let that happen.”

She stared at him. “Lying doesn’t count,” she informed him. “I’ll know the difference. I want you to be happy. You won’t be, not with me.”

“You don’t know that,” he insisted, his voice quieting before he glanced down at her body, her bare breasts. “You’re… you’re fucking gorgeous, you know? It’s not like I’m not attracted to you.”

She blinked. “Oh. Well. I wasn’t aware of that, I suppose.”

He smiled a bit at that, taking another step closer to her, his feet sinking into the wet sand. “Lea,” he went on, “if you have two months left for me to fall in love with you, why don’t you let me try?”

“Attraction and affection aren’t the same thing,” she pointed out.

“No, they’re not,” Timothée agreed, “but I feel both for you. I think I could love you, if you’d let me try.”

“You’re with Kylie,” she reminded him.

“I am,” he allowed. “I’ll break up with her.”

Lea clutched her hands together. “I never wanted you to have to do that.”

“I’m choosing to,” he corrected gently. “Look, I’ll be honest. If I’d been single when we met, I would’ve tried to kiss you that first night.”

She blinked, astonished at this information. “What? Why?”

“Because you’re really fucking hot,” he said flatly. “You saved my life and you’re gorgeous. Even before I knew anything else about you, that was enough for me to want to kiss you, at the very least.”

Lea’s face closely resembled her hair in color.

“I… see.”

He reached out and took her hands in his, pulling her to his bare chest and reaching up to cup her cheek again. “Don’t you want this?” he murmured. “Don’t you want me?”

Her gaze dropped to his lips. “Timothée, I…”

“I can love you,” he promised. “Let me show you.”

“You don’t understand,” she insisted. “It’s different for humans, from what I’ve seen. Mermaids, we don’t fall out of love. Ever. I will love you until I die, and probably even after. If I die in two months, I will die loving you. If I die in eighty years, I will die loving you. It’s never going away. It will only grow. That’s how it is for mermaids.”

Timothée stroked her cheek with his thumb, his eyes soft and intense at the same time. “You say that like being loved that much would be a bad thing,” he told her softly. “It’s not. I wouldn’t mind it.”

She stared at him. “You wouldn’t?”

“Why would I mind being adored by a sweet, beautiful, intelligent woman?” he asked. “Why would I object to that?” He stroked her cheek again, his lips a hairsbreadth from hers. “Who’s to say I wouldn’t feel the same way about you, if given the chance?”

Lea gulped, not sure if she believed him or not. “Timothée,” she breathed.

Something in his gaze shifted. And then, he kissed her.

Big thanks to my beta @lilmaymayy

Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19

To be added, please ask 💗

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Return to the Water

Chapter Three: Alone, With Him

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight nine

Fighting in a foreign city, tonight will only lead me to a time bomb.— Simple Creatures, One Little Lie

Lea squeaked in horror, flailing her arms. “What the hell—“ she sputtered. “Put me down, and where is my knife? Put me down!”

“I snagged your knife a second ago,” he admitted as he stood up. “It’s in my pocket. Don’t be too mad, please. You said you’d let me help you. I’ll give it back as soon as we’re in a private suite or whatever.”

She wracked her brain, trying to locate the words in the lexicon her mother passed to her from her time amongst the humans, before she’d escaped Lea’s father. After a moment, she asked, “Don’t you need to give them something in exchange for something like that?”

“Ah…” He grimaced. “They’ll let me in. Don’t worry.”

“Why?”

But they were already at the doors to this so-called resort, and he pushed one of them open with his bony, nonexistent hip (why did she want to see it? Why would she be curious about that?), and then…

And then they were noticed.

“Timothée!” gasped a young human woman behind a strange table, looking rather like she couldn’t believe her eyes. She was gazing at him the way Timothée had been looking at Lea earlier: like she wanted to eat him, which was weird. “Can— can I help you?”

He shot the girl a winning smile. “There’s been an accident, I’m afraid. Could you maybe set us up with a room? This poor girl needs to rest.”

The woman blinked rapidly, her gaze flitting between Timothée and Lea, who was in his arms with her lips pursed, her hair draped over her shoulders and pooling on the towel wrapped around her waist. “Does— does she need a doctor?”

“No,” Timothée assured the woman. “She just needs rest. Thank you, though.”

“Of— of course,” the woman said shakily. She hit some buttons on a strange box, and then presented Lea with a small, flat piece of plastic. She bristled at the fact that it was plastic but accepted it nevertheless. “It’s, uh… I gave you our best available villa, of course. I’ll have someone escort you there.”

“Thank you so much,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. 

They followed another human—this one a man—back out the door and along a walkway on the beach. “Here you are,” the man said after several minutes. “Villa seventeen. If you need anything, please call the front desk.”

“Thank you,” Timothée said kindly. “I’ll need someone to do some clothes shopping for the two of us, if possible. Is there a Saks nearby or something?”

“Certainly,” the man agreed. “Please provide the front desk with a list of all required items and any brand preferences.”

“Thank you,” Timothée said again.

The man glanced curiously at her before walking away, and before she knew it, she was inside this… this weird house-type thing.

With him.

Alone.

“Do you know those humans?” she asked, taking in the strange white furnishings; tables and places to sit, it looked like. There was a hole in the floor that was covered with glass, and she could see the ocean beneath them. A wall of glass doors was on the far side of the space, beyond it some outside wood flooring and what appeared to be a fake mini ocean, which didn’t make sense to her, because it looked like if someone just stepped off the wood flooring, they’d be in the real thing.

“Oh, uh…” He stepped inside, carrying her with him. “No, I don’t know them.”

“They acted as if they recognized you.”

Lea could practically hear him grimace. “Never mind that,” he deflected. “Let me put in a request for some clothes for you, okay?”

“Just something more secure for my lower half, thank you.” She shifted slightly in his arms. “My seaweed wrappings are sufficient.”

He looked down at her, a small smile on his lips, as if he were amused. “I’m afraid you’ll need a bit more than that if you’re going to be around humans.”

She frowned. “You know more than I do, I suppose.”

He very obviously fought back a smile. “You, uh… you can’t stand, right? I’ll need to gauge your size for clothes. I think I can manage it if you’re laying down, though, so let’s get you to a bed, alright?”

She frowned again, concerned at the idea of being on a bed around him. Her mother had told her and her sisters that bad things happened when a man—a mate—got you onto a bed. “I want my knife for that.”

Timothée blinked down at her. “Uh… sure. I’ll need to put you down to get it out of my pocket, though.”

She pursed her lips but nodded. 

Directly to their left, there was a short hallway with a door on the left side and at the end. He went through the door on their left, and they found themselves in a strange room with weird tables lining the walls and a tall metal box. “Oh, a kitchen!” Timothée said brightly. “Awesome. Now where’s the bedroom…?” He went through another door, and then he sighed in relief. “Alright, here’s the bed. Let’s get your sizing figured out.”

He didn’t touch her hardly at all while he tried to figure out her sizing, as he put it; just helped her turn her body this way and that, mumbling that she couldn’t be much more than five feet tall. 

He then spoke into a weird thing he held up to his unnaturally beautiful face, giving a very long list of items he said they needed in addition to her sizing information. He mentioned his own body as well, and what things he would need to cover it.

He instructed her on how to put on a robe and situated her with a bunch of pillows behind her, pulling up something he called “Netflix” and showing her how to scroll through it.

“Popular on Netflix,” she read off the screen.

“I’m surprised you know how to read,” he told her, sitting on a sofa to the left of the bed.

Lea fixed him with a look. “We have schools.” She turned her gaze back to the screen. “Only on Netflix,” she read. “The Crown.” She looked at a blonde woman with blue eyes. To the left of the woman, there was… there was a man who Lea could’ve sworn looked just like Timothée, just with shorter hair. “The King,” she read. “That’s weird, this man looks exactly like you. There really are a lot of humans, aren’t there?” He didn’t say anything, and she continued to scroll. “Award-Winning Movies. Don’t Worry Darling. Dune. Lady Bird.” She paused, leaning forward, closer to the screen. “Hey, this one could be your twin—“ Suddenly, something began to play on the screen, presumably what he’d informed her was a “preview”.

“You’re the Imperial Ecologist,” the human who looked exactly like Timothée said from the screen. Just then, the man himself bolted upright, took the remote from her, and turned the screen off. 

Lea examined his features closely. His face was red.

“You’re embarrassed,” she observed. “Why?”

“I— I didn’t think about you… seeing those.”

“That human didn’t just look like you,” she pointed out. “He looked exactly the same as you. His voice was identical to yours, too.”

Timothée sat down on the bed next to her. “I’m… an actor,” he explained, not looking directly at her.

She blinked, thinking of the theatrical performances she’d sewn costumes for back home. “Like in plays?”

“I’ve done plays,” he confirmed with a nod, “but it’s really just movies now.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “Is that how those people knew you? From watching you on their screens?”

He winced. “Maybe. Some, ah… some actors are—how should I put this?—recognized by some members of the public.”

“That… sounds like fame,” she said slowly. “Our ancient sisters are famous, as are our royal families; it was a huge scandal when Princess Riella neglected to return home after she…” Lea grimaced, choosing not to finish the thought. After she had her mate’s child. Instead, she went on, “After she regained the ability to do so.”

“I’m not that famous,” he assured her hurriedly. “Not like royalty or anything like that.”

“But other humans know you.”

“Yes.”

“Lots of them?”

“…Yes.”

“Huh. How odd.” 

My mate is famous.

“Okay,” he said with a sigh, carrying a great many bags and putting them on the couch by the bed. “Let me change, and then I’ll… help you.” Lea nodded, and then he left for a few minutes with a couple of bags and returned, wearing human clothes.

“Okay,” Timothée said, putting several bags in front of her on the bed. “First things first.” He pulled out several pieces of cloth, presumably more human clothing, this time for her. Holding up two articles that were several shades darker than her skin, he began, “Things that look like this—“ He held up something that closely resembled her seaweed wrappings, pink covering his stupid cheekbones— “are called bras. You put them over your, uh…” He swallowed.

“In place of my wrappings,” Lea surmised.

“Yes, exactly.” He nodded emphatically. “And things that look like this—“ He held up a piece of fabric in the same color that was shaped like a weird triangle— “are called panties. You put your feet in each hole and slide them all the way up your legs. The side with the design goes in front.”

She frowned. “Humans are weird.”

“I guess we are, yeah,” he allowed with a small smile. Then, he pulled out a short white dress that had small buttons down the middle and was covered in little black hearts. “This is—“

“A dress,” she finished for him. “I’ve made them for costumes before.”

He blinked. “You… make clothes?”

“Yes, sometimes. I like to help with the theatrical performances the others put on.”

Timothée stared at her. “Interesting. Anyway, uh— this goes over everything else, of course. We can go over jackets and coats and shit later if we have to, but for now, let’s look at shoes.” He pulled out a moderately sized box and removed the lid. Holding up the contents, he said “Okay, so these go on your feet, and—“

“How the hell am I supposed to move around in those?” she demanded.

He looked at her for a moment before seeming to recall something. “Oh, right, shit, you can’t walk. You can move your legs now, though, can’t you?”

She tried—and succeeded at, actually—adjusting her legs. “It would seem I can, yes.”

“Okay, here.” He dropped the shoes on the bed and offered her the bra, panties, and dress. “I’m gonna leave the room, so you put these on as best you can. Once you’ve got the dress on, call for me, okay?”

Lea nodded, and he left, shutting the door behind him. She removed the robe, towel, and her seaweed wrappings as quickly as she could, and then slid the panties on as best she could. The bra was harder, but she did get it eventually, and she was fairly certain she got it right. The buttons on the dress were fairly easy to handle, and, not for the first time, she wondered what she looked like.

“I’m finished,” she called.

Timothée came back in, looking her over with a slight nod. “Okay, so now that you’re dressed, we can get started.”

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Get started with what?”

He moved over to her right side. Extending both hands, he said, “C’mon, I’m gonna teach you how to walk.”

Lea grimaced and accepted his hands, figuring this was a skill she would need if she were to function in the human world. “Okay, I guess.”

“Alright, just put both feet on the floor.” She obeyed— or attempted to, anyway; her feet didn’t reach the wooden floors.

“I can’t reach,” she complained irritably. “Your stupid human things are designed for weird, long bodies.”

Timothée mumbled something she couldn’t quite make out; possibly the word “adorable”. Then, he said, “Okay, just scoot forward. I’ll help you stand up.”

He took half a step back, and when Lea lowered her feet to the floor and attempted to shift her weight to them, she immediately toppled forward. 

Timothée caught her as soon as he realized her legs had given out. “Whoa!” He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her upright. “Gotcha.” 

He grinned down at her before faltering a bit, and she looked up at him with wide eyes, her heart thudding in her chest so loudly she wondered if he could hear it. His gaze was fixed on her face for a few seconds before flitting down to her mouth, and he licked his lips.

Suddenly, as if snapping himself out of a trance, he said, “Okay! Uh, put your arms on my shoulders and your feet on top of mine, okay?”

She did so, though she had to put a great deal of weight on him in order to stand at all. “Feet are weird,” she observed, examining her own. “I prefer my fins.”

“They’re very weird, yes,” he agreed indulgently. “I’m going to walk backwards so you get the motion of walking down, okay?”

“Would you just—“

“No,” she insisted firmly, “I’m not ready to walk by myself, and you’re crazy for thinking otherwise.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Timothée said, exasperated.

“Well, we wouldn’t be in this situation if you had learned how to swim, now would we?”

He sputtered down at her. “I know how to swim!”

Lea pursed her lips. “Apparently not. If you did, I wouldn’t have had to pull you out of the water. You would’ve done it yourself.”

He frowned. “I was knocked out, alright?”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “I suspect you were also drunk.”

Timothée flushed. “That doesn’t matter. I’d been knocked out. It wasn’t my fault.”

She looked up at him skeptically. “If you say so.”

Several hours later, she was holding both of his hands at arm’s length, gaze on her feet as she put one in front of the other. “I think I might be starting to get this, actually.”

“You’re doing great,” Timothée agreed.

“Why are you being so… so helpful?”

He was silent for a moment. “You saved my life. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for that.”

Give me a baby, she thought before she could stop herself. Dismissing this, she instead told him, “Oh.” His hands were warm in hers, and she looked down at her wobbling legs.

“Eyes on me, Lea,” he told her gently. 

“I wouldn’t be able to see my feet,” she pointed out helpfully. “Plus, it’s hard to look up at you because you’re so much longer than I am.”

“Uh…” He hesitated. “I think you mean taller, but— just look up, it’s fine.” After a moment, he said, “Eyes on me, lift your leg up and step forward.”

“I can’t!” she insisted.

“Just keep your eyes on me and try. You can do it.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest as she lifted her gaze to his, and somehow—somehow—her legs just… stopped shaking. Which was weird, because his eyes were, like, so pretty; weirdly so. Okay, they were multicolored and iridescent, what the fuck—

It took awhile, but eventually, Lea was able to take a step on her own.

“I’m walking!” she gasped in astonishment and delight. “Timothée, look! I— I’m walking!”

He was looking at her strangely, and if one were to read his mind, one would find thoughts that primarily consisted of, She’s so cute oh god how is she so adorable? I wonder what her boobs look like in that bra, god her skin is even paler than that fabric was, fucking hell—

Lea, of course, could not read his thoughts, which was just as well because she wouldn’t have known what to make of them.

Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “I, uh, I see. Good job.”

She smiled brightly at him, giddy from her success, and didn’t notice when he swallowed.

Big thanks to my beta @lilmaymayy

Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19

To be added, please ask 💗

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Return to the Water

Chapter Two: Stupid New Legs

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight nine

Falling off the earth’s face, I watch your eyes glaze. I taste the salt on your skin.— Simple Creatures, One Little Lie

Lea’s scales prickled at first, and then they burned like they’d been doused in acid. As they dissolved into smooth, pale skin, her throat also began to burn as it reworked itself for speech above water. Her hisses and whimpers of pain turned into screams and sobs, and the human was babbling, asking what the hell was going on and how he could help, as if he hadn’t already done enough, and then the pain finally—finally—ebbed. Her skin ached, as did her throat, but at least she didn’t feel the need to scream anymore.

“What the fuck, what are you—“

“I knew human men were foolish,” she gasped out hoarsely, “but honestly, how could it be more obvious that I’m a mermaid?”

“A what?” he sputtered in disbelief.

Lea snapped her gaze up at him again. “Yes, a mermaid. And you’ve stolen my season.”

“I don’t understand—“

“Of course you don’t,” she muttered in annoyance. “Just my luck to get stuck with a freakin’ mate.”

“A what?” he squeaked. 

“A mate,” she snapped. “My body is under the mistaken impression that we have agreed to…” She thought better of finishing her sentence. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll figure out a way home without that.”

“Can… can I help?” he asked hesitantly. “What’s, uh… what’s your name?”

She pursed her lips. “Lea,” she said, pushing herself up as best she could so as to sit.

Her legs were bare, and she had one of those weird scale-free butts. She’d never seen a bare human one, and was terribly uncomfortable with the prospect of him seeing hers, even though it was new. She tried to situate her legs so he wouldn’t see the area of her body around her hips that humans seemed to like to conceal.

He was staring at her chest with wide eyes, a flush spreading over his high cheekbones. “That’s… that’s a pretty name. I’m Timothée.”

“What’re you staring at?” she asked suspiciously.

“You don’t have anything covering your, uh…” His gaze was still fixed on her chest, so she glanced down at herself, only to find that her seaweed wrappings must have come undone when she pulled him ashore and were gone, resulting in her breasts only having what cover her hair provided; not that she didn’t have a decent amount of hair—she would later discover it reached the bendy part of her legs; her knees, as they were called—but rather that her breasts were on the larger side and therefore difficult to conceal. Strands of her hair were plastered to her wet skin— how had she not noticed?

She squeaked in horror, covering her breasts as best she could with her arms—though with their size, it really just meant she could cover herself from the nipples down, and they were pressed tightly together, displaying more cleavage than she was used to—and trying to scoot herself backwards into the water. Her stupid new legs weren’t fucking cooperating, though. They were weird and numb and she couldn’t seem to move them.

“Can I help?” the man—Timothée—asked again.

“I think you’ve done enough, human,” she informed him, still trying to force her stupid legs to work.

“Oh.” He blinked down at her, looking confused. “What have I done, exactly?”

“I told you, you stole my season.”

“I don’t understand what that means,” he admitted. “Something about, uh… mates, you said?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You needn’t concern yourself with that.” What did he want? Did he want the same thing her father had wanted from her mother, to use her body—somehow, she didn’t know how, exactly, strictly speaking—and hurt her? She wouldn’t let him. She’d rip his throat out with her teeth if she had to.

He frowned. “Okay, uh… look, let me help you, okay?”

“I have no reason to believe you actually want to help me,” she informed him slowly, watching him with wary eyes. “You’ve been looking at me like I’m a particularly tasty fish; do humans eat each other or something?”

“Oh, um.” He reddened further, swallowing. “No, I— I’m sorry, your skin is so pale that it caught me off guard. I’m just trying to help, I swear. Getting you back home, like you said, or helping you with your, uh, your season? It’s my fault you’re here, isn’t it?” He hesitated. “I dunno, I just want to help.”

She glanced down at her skin, which was almost translucent under the light of the rising sun. She supposed it was paler than his. “Can you change me back?”

“Back into a mermaid?” he managed, blinking very rapidly at her.

“No, into a dolphin,” she said sarcastically, her discomfort and fear overriding her usual anxiousness, making her prickly. “Yes, into a mermaid. Obviously.”

“Not that I know of; I didn’t even know mermaids were real until just now.”

Lea knew one way he could change her back, but it was out of the question. She raised her eyebrows at him, tightening her arms over her breasts. She felt terribly strange about the idea of him seeing them again. “Then how could you possibly help me?”

His hair was plastered to his face. Why was he so pretty? It was incredibly distracting and it made her all the more anxious.

“I don’t know,” Timothée admitted, “but I want to help. You— you saved me, y’know? I’d probably be dead if you hadn’t.”

“Yes, well,” she said tightly, “you’re welcome, I guess.”

“Should I take you to a doctor, maybe?”

Lea shook her head firmly. “Your doctors can do even less to help me than you can.”

He brightened at that, kneeling down before her in the wet sand. “So there is something I can do?”

Shit, she thought. I slipped up, how do I—

“You said before that I ‘stole’ your season and then you mentioned something about getting stuck with a mate. Did you mean me?”

Lea bared her teeth at him again, hissing in warning, and lowered herself closer to the sand to search for her obsidian knife without looking away from the threat he posed.

“Did you just— did you just hiss at me?” he sputtered in disbelief. “And— and what’re you looking for?”

“My knife,” she informed him, still watching him closely. “Don’t come closer, human, or I may slit your throat once I find it.”

Timothée's eyes widened, and he shivered. “You saved me just to kill me?” 

“I expected to be back home by now whether I saved you or not,” she pointed out. “I’ve never killed before and I’d rather not start now, but if it’s between that and you doing to me whatever twisted things human men like to do to females of your kind, then yes, I’ll kill you.”

The human stared at her in shocked disbelief. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said slowly, placatingly. She bared her teeth at him again, and he said, “No, really, I just want to help.” He held up his hands in surrender. “Would your knife make you feel better? I can find it for you.”

Lea snorted, the sound oddly melodic to his ears. "Help? How could a human possibly help me?"

Timothée hesitated, as if unsure of how to answer. "I... I don't know. But I have resources, connections. Maybe there's something or someone out there that can help you. Please, just give me a chance to try.”

She stayed low to the sand, feeling safer there, somehow. “If you truly wish to help me,” she said slowly, deliberately, “then yes, I would like my knife back.” After a moment, she added, “And some seaweed, please.”

He looked at her funny, but nodded and moved swiftly away from her.

She could breathe easier with him further away from her, but she didn’t feel as if she could tear her gaze from him. Not without her knife on hand, at least.

After several minutes, he returned, knife in one hand and seaweed in the other. She watched him closely as he lowered the knife to the sand several feet from her before standing back up and nudging it towards her with his weird human body. The second it was in reach, she snatched up the blade, swift as lightning. The familiar bone hilt was comforting in her palm, and, feeling more secure now, she gestured to the seaweed with the blade. 

Timothée nodded, hesitantly stepping towards where she sat and dropping the seaweed before her. “Can I help?”

“No,” she said flatly. “Not unless you go get me a piece of cloth large enough to wrap my useless human legs in.”

“Uh…” He hesitated. “Yeah, I can… I can try to find something.”

Lea nodded, resting the knife within grabbing distance and beginning to weave some new seaweed wrappings for herself. She disliked him being able to see her bare breasts.

It didn’t take her long to weave her wrappings anymore (stupid things were always falling off when she got jostled too much), so when he returned awhile later, she was already tying them around her body with deft, practiced hands.

“I got you a towel,” Timothée said, sounding rather hesitant.

Lea held her hands out to accept the sandy piece of fabric he was offering her and laid it over the lower half of her body.

“Can’t believe I lost my other one,” she grumbled to herself in annoyance, tightening the knot of seaweed she’d tied between her breasts. “It had pearls sewn into it.”

“Huh?”

She looked up at the human. “I was talking to myself.”

“Oh.” He paused. “What were you talking about? What had pearls in it?”

“My wrappings.” She gestured to her chest vaguely, and he glanced down at it.

“Oh, you… covered up…” He sounded disappointed, almost, and she recalled her mother’s warning that human men had a strange fascination with the bodies of women. She glanced briefly at where her knife lay in the sand, the obsidian glinting in the light of the rising sun.

“I need to find a witch,” Lea informed him, not bothering with a segue.

“A what?”

“A witch,” she repeated impatiently. “Someone who does magic. There are some who live amongst the humans; I know there are. I need to find one.”

“Why?” he asked slowly.

“To change me back,” she explained slowly, an expression of disbelief and frustration on her face. Were all humans this slow, or was it just him?

“O… kay,” he enunciated carefully. “I’ll help you however I can.”

She looked him up and down, this long, thin human man. “Alright,” she decided after a long moment.

“Okay, great. We should go find a resort or something.” He jerked his chin in the direction opposite the water. “There’s one over there. C’mon.”

He turned around to start walking away. “Hey,” she said grumpily, “I can’t walk, human. How am I supposed to get from here to there?”

He turned back around, staring at her pensively. “Okay,” he decided. “Wrap the towel around yourself if you want.”

She frowned, confused, but did as she’d been told. It looked like some of the wraps she’d seen some human women wear. She’d only just tied a knot in the fabric at her hip when she was lifted off the wet sand.

Big thanks to my beta @lilmaymayy Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19

To be added, please ask 💗

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Moodboard by @softhecreator

Mr. Chalamet

chapter nine: don’t be ridiculous

AO3 info one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven epilogue

All my work is 18+.

If only I could just read your cursive mind and know what you’re thinking, know what you’re needing, I can try by just guessing what’s inside. But it’s never that easy, so please come and tell me; are you in or are you out? Are you still searching for something you haven’t found? I know it’s hard for you, but you’re killing me right now, so will you love me or let me down?- We The Kings, Love Me or Let Me Down

Elle had a school trip early in the second semester. The week leading up to it had been so hectic for her that Tim hadn’t been able to come home, not even for a night. So when Elle finally left, Lea was beyond excited for some alone time with Tim.

The night Elle left, Lea was in the kitchen of their house, checking on the gumbo—Tim had never had homemade gumbo, which, as a Cajun, Lea found absolutely mind boggling, like, how could he go thirty-six years of his life completely gumboless?—when she heard the door open.

“Baby?” he called. 

“In the kitchen!”

Footsteps, and then a contented sigh. “It’s so good to be home with you. What’s that smell, by the way?”

“Gumbo,” Lea informed him. “My mom’s is better than this will probably be, especially so young, but it’s going pretty good so far.”

“Young?” He sounded confused.

“It’s supposed to be aged a bit,” Lea explained, ignoring the steam as she stirred. “The older it gets, the better it is.”

“Like wine?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

She heard him step closer, pressing himself against her back and wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned into him, her eyes fluttering shut, almost in relief.

He kissed the top of her head. “I missed you.”

She hummed. “You just saw me earlier today.”

“I mean I missed being alone with you,” he amended. “Being able to hold you like this.”

She sighed blissfully. “Yeah. I missed it, too.”

“Remember the last time we were alone in a kitchen?” She could hear the grin in his voice when he spoke. 

A smile twitched at her lips. “We’ve been alone in more than one kitchen on numerous occasions.”

He moved a hand down to her hip, squeezing it through the soft fabric of her house dress. “Maybe, but have I fucked you in the kitchen before?”

Lea exhaled slowly. “Not since the first time.”

“And certainly not in our kitchen,” he pointed out, leaning down and kissing her neck. “That won’t do, will it?”

She licked her lips. “N— no.”

Tim inhaled deeply, gripping her jaw and murmuring, “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” she breathed. Suddenly, she recalled something he’d told her just before they got together, the last time they were in a kitchen like this. “I love you, Mr. Chalamet.”

He froze, hands that had been hiking her dress up her thighs pausing in their movements. “Lea, you— you— fuck.”

Suddenly, she was spun around, his hands sliding into her hair as he slammed his mouth against hers. She let out a startled “Mmf!” before the sound turned into a moan.

He practically tore her dress in his haste to pull it up around her thighs, yanking his pants down past his hips in a similar manner. “Fuck,” he groaned, looking at her pale pink panties that revealed more than they covered. “Take those off, sweetheart.” When she didn’t manage it fast enough, he added, “C’mon, Lea. I own that sweet little body, don’t I, baby?”

“Yes,” she assured him with a hasty nod.

“Of course I do,” he murmured, yanking the hemline of her dress down along with the cups of her bra. He grabbed one of her breasts as soon as it was bare and fondled it roughly, his fingers squeezing hard enough to bruise. She hoped they did. “Gonna fuck you now. Show you who owns you.”

She kicked her panties aside, winding her arms around his neck to get closer to him. “You own me,” she promised. “I’m all yours.”

“I know,” he agreed softly, grabbing fistfuls of her ass and giving it a few good slaps for good measure. She yelped at the sting, the sound of half pleasure, half pain. He smirked when he heard her delight, smacking her breast right over her nipple. She moaned loudly as he watched her breast jiggle. “God, you’re so sexy.”

“Want you,” she whined needily. “Want you in me, please.”

“Poor baby,” he said condescendingly. “So desperate to get fucked. So desperate for me.”

“Yes,” she admitted.

He hauled her in closer, kissing her hungrily and backing her up against the kitchen counter. Picking her up and depositing her onto it, he didn’t break their kiss, reaching down to spread her legs so he could step between them.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured against her lips, aligning himself with her entrance. “Lemme have it.”

She cupped his cheek, leaning back against the wall behind the cabinet, and wrapping her legs around his waist. “Want you to have me,” she told him softly. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, baby.” He pushed into her with a groan. “Fuck.”

“Exactly,” she giggled, twining her fingers into his hair.

He chuckled, leaning forward to mouth at her neck. “If you’re capable of making jokes, I probably need to fuck you harder, huh?”

“Mhm,” she moaned as he pulled out only to thrust back in roughly.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “Say it again, sweetheart.”

“H— huh?” she stuttered, dazed.

“Call me that again.”

Finally understanding, she managed, “Mr. Chalamet, I—“

“That’s it,” he practically growled. “Again, darling. So fuckin’ hot.”

“Mr. Chalamet,” Lea moaned, throwing her head back so it thudded slightly against the wall behind her. “God, yes, I want— I want—“

“What do you want?” he murmured, mouthing wetly at her throat. “Ask for the world and it’s yours. Just tell me what you want.”

“I wanna have your baby,” she admitted with a whine. “Please, I—“

“I know, Lea,” he told her, the gentleness of his voice at odds with his sharp thrusts. “Soon. Just a little bit longer, my love.”

“No,” she insisted. “Don’t wanna wait, want it now, I wanna have a baby with you right now, want your baby, don’t wanna wait, I want it I want it I want it I want it—“

“God, Lea,” he muttered, pulling her closer to him. “Patience, my greedy little girl.”

She shook her head urgently. “No, now.”

“Patience,” he reiterated firmly, fucking into her punishingly. “Much as I’d love to fuck a baby into you now, you need to finish school first.” He paused before adding, “And I’d like to be married to you before we have a baby.”

Lea froze. “You— you wanna marry me?” Her breath was caught in her chest as if she had forgotten how to breathe.

“Of course I do,” he murmured softly, kissing her neck. “My love, my sweet, darling girl. Of course I want to marry you.”

She cupped his cheek, pulling his face up to hers so she could press her mouth against his with urgency. “I wanna marry you, too, Tim,” she admitted, “but I wanna have your baby now. I don’t care that you’re already married. I don’t care that I’m still in school.”

“Lea,” he sighed in exasperation, the thrust of his hips slowing into more of a rocking motion than him fucking into her the way he had been.

“Please,” she begged. She knew he wouldn’t cave, so she added, “Please, Mr. Chalamet. Get me pregnant.”

Tim surged towards her, claiming her mouth again. “I will, darling,” he swore. “As soon as I can, I will.”

“Now,” she insisted, kissing him again. “Now, please.”

“You’re making it very difficult for me to be sensible, my love,” he admonished, still rocking into her, filling her deliciously.

“I don’t care if it’s sensible,” Lea informed him. “I love you. I want this with you.”

“You’ll have it, sweetheart,” he promised, cupping her face and stroking her cheek lovingly. “I’ll give you as many babies as you want. I swear I will. But I need you to be patient for me. Alright? Can you do that for me, darling? Please?”

She pouted. “I don’t wanna.”

“I know,” he chuckled softly. “As many as you want, love. Just be patient for me.”

“Fine,” she grumbled in annoyance. 

“I just want what’s best for you,” he informed her.

“You’re what’s best for me.”

His lips quirked into a small smile, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close even as he moved within her. “Soon, sweetheart. I’ll give you a baby soon, I promise.”

“Tim,” she sighed blissfully, leaning into him. “F— feels good.”

“Yeah?” he murmured with a smile against her hairline, leaning down to kiss her again. She arched up into his touch, her lips falling open in a soft gasp when he drove into her a little harder. “That feel good, darling?”

“Yes,” Lea breathed, her toes curling from how incredible it felt, the delicious way he was filling her. The countertop was cold against her skin, a sharp contrast next to the warmth of his body, his touch, but it was damn near impossible to focus on anything but the way he felt, the way he made her feel.

“Tell me you love me,” he prompted again, his voice soft and gentle but still commanding in that ridiculously—obnoxiously, really—way he always managed to pull off. 

“I love you,” she told him without hesitation, and was immediately rewarded with his lips on hers. He rocked into her, sucking her lower lip between his teeth before slipping his tongue into her mouth.

“I love you, too,” he rasped out, sliding a hand down to squeeze her hip briefly before trailing back up to grip her breast. “God, you’re so sexy.”

She pulled his face closer to hers, kissing him hungrily as he fondled her breast and rolled his hips. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promised into her mouth, rocking into her slowly but harshly. “Not gonna stop until you cum, sweetheart.”

Lea whined at the thought of him bringing her to orgasm, at the way it felt every time he did. “Will you, please?” she asked quietly, her nails digging into the skin of his shoulders.

“You wanna cum already?” he chuckled softly. “Greedy little girl.”

“‘m sorry,” she mumbled, embarrassed.

“Don’t apologize, baby,” Tim panted, reaching between them to rub her clit. “I want you to feel good.”

“You always make me feel good,” she gasped out, arching into the way his touch shot sparks through her veins. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

“Yeah?” He bent down to mouth wetly at her throat. “You like that, angel? You wanna cum for me?”

“Uh huh,” she whined, her toes already curling from the pleasure. “I want— I want—“

“I know what you want,” he assured her lowly. “I know what you need. And you know I’ll give it to you, don’t you, love?”

Lea nodded jerkily. “I know.”

“You know I’ll always take care of my sweet girl.” He paused, inhaling sharply when he felt her clenching around him. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

She nodded again. “‘m gonna cum, Tim, I—“

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin, rubbing her clit faster. “Cum on my cock. Feels so good when you do, so pretty when you cum for me.”

Her body tensed, her muscles somehow spamming yet unable to move, and she burst with a sharp gasp of his name.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunted, driving into her harder, moaning into her neck. “God, baby. I’m gonna cum inside you, gonna cum in this tight little pussy—“

“Yes, Tim,” she encouraged softly. “Cum inside me.”

“Fuck—“ he moaned, his thrusts slowly before halting altogether.

It took a few minutes for them to come back to themselves, and he murmured something inaudible against her skin between soft, sweet kisses.

“Huh?” she asked dazedly, blinking in an effort to try and regain her bearings.

“Said I love you,” he mumbled. “Love you so fuckin’ much, baby.”

Lea smiled blissfully. “I love you, too.”

Several minutes later, he was leaning back against the kitchen table, his long legs stretched out in front of him in a position that was far too attractive to really be legal, watching her as she righted her clothing. “Do you actually wanna have a baby now?”

Lea blushed. “I mean… I love you, so it’d be nice, but…”

“It’s not a good time,” he agreed, “but you’re right, it would be nice. Amazing, actually.” He sighed and changed the subject. “Have you ever been to LA?” The question was casual, his gaze lazy.

“No, why?”

“‘Cause you’ve got another couple weeks before your classes start back up. We should make use of them, don’t you think?”

Lea stared at him in disbelief. “You want me to come to LA with you?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

She squinted suspiciously at him. “And would you take me on the jet again?”

“You mean the jet with the private bedroom suite, complete with a shower big enough to fuck you in and a tub where you can ride me? That jet?” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Yes, we would be taking that.”

“Where would we be staying, exactly?”

He grinned. “I know a place.”

As it turned out, the place Tim knew was a house. As in he’d bought her another fucking house. If one could even call an 8,300 square foot estate on .33 acres a house. She did not call it a house, she called it a mansion. Or palace. Palace also worked.

It was almost mediterranean in style; with whitewashed stucco, exposed beams, and colorful tiling, their bedroom was the highlight. It had both patio and balcony access, as did their bathroom, and the whole house overlooked the coast. She felt like a princess nestled away in a palace by the sea.

They were only gonna be there for a couple weeks, planning on flying back to New York a few days before her classes started.

She was getting dressed one day, trying to fasten her bra. “Jesus Christ,” she grumbled in frustration.

“What is it, love?” Tim asked cheerfully, sticking his head into the walk-in closet she’d set her suitcase up in.

“My damn nipples are too sensitive for me to even freakin’ touch,” she griped. “This doesn’t even happen if I get my period, and it can’t be PMS anyway; my birth control fixes that.”

He stared at her with wide eyes, swallowing. “Weren’t, uh… weren’t you feeling nauseous when you woke up?”

“Yeah,” she grimaced. “Even coffee smelled gross. It’s weird, I love the smell of coffee.”

He continued to stare at her before finally deciding, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Lea frowned, confused. “O… kay?”

“Take this.”

She looked down, examining the box he’d shoved into her hands. “You want me to take a pregnancy test?”

“Classic early symptoms,” he explained.

She shrugged. “Alright, I guess.”

Five minutes later, she was blinking at the little plus sign. She took another test just to be sure, this one labeled with words.

Pregnant

“T— Tim,” she called out shakily.

“Yeah?” He strolled into the bathroom, glancing over at her where she stood by the sink, staring at the tests.

“It’s positive,” he observed.

“Uh huh,” she barely managed.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Yep.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Yep,” she repeated.

Suddenly, he turned towards her and kissed her so desperately she was frozen for a moment. “You’re pregnant,” he repeated between kisses. “You’re pregnant, Lea. You’re gonna have my baby.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him in disbelief. “Are you… happy?”

“Are you kidding?” he laughed. “The woman I love is having my baby. I’m fuckin’ thrilled.”

“But— but we agreed we’re not ready,” she sputtered. “I’m still in school, Elle doesn’t know about us—“

He waved her off. “All that shit’s secondary. You’re having my baby. I couldn’t care less about anything outside of that.” He took a breath, thinking. “Shit, gimme— gimme a sec, alright? I’ll be right back.”

She followed after him, watching him over the railing of the balcony overlooking their bedroom as he rifled through a bedside table drawer. “What’re you doing?”

“One sec,” he said again. “Where is— ah hah!”

Turning around with a grin, he hid his hands behind his back and sauntered over to her again. “What is that?” she asked, confused.

Instead of answering her directly, he took a deep breath and walked up to join her on the balcony. “Lea,” he said slowly, “I love you. You know that, right?”

She furrowed her brow in confusion. “Yeah…?”

He nodded, and then he…

And then he lowered himself onto one knee.

Her brain short-circuited, her eyes widening. “Tim, what’re you—“

“Just… just let me talk, okay?” he pleaded softly.

“Okay,” she whispered, unable to really think.

He took his hands out from behind his back, revealing a small velvet box. “I meant to waist until everything was out in the open to do this, until the divorce was finalized, but honestly, I expected all of that to be done by now, and I don’t really feel like waiting anymore, so…” He took a deep breath, looking far more nervous than she was used to seeing him. “Okay,” he said, appearing to steel himself, “so here’s the thing. Things never worked with Lola. I’ve been in love before, yeah, but it’s never been like this.”

“Like what?” she asked, hesitant and unsure.

He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “Right, I guess? You just feel… well. Right. It’s like being with you is exactly what’s always been meant to happen. You’re it for me, is what I’m saying.” Another pause. “I’m in love with you. I know it’s complicated, and I know it’s probably inconvenient for you in a lot of ways, but I…” He sighed wistfully. “I don’t care about the consequences, honestly. I just want you. And now you’re gonna have my baby, so…” He opened the box, revealing a gorgeous sapphire ring that must’ve cost a fortune. “If you’ll have me, I would very much like to marry you.”

“T— Tim,” she stuttered out anxiously, “you’re already married.”

He shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t really care.”

“You can’t marry me if you’re already married to someone else,” she explained.

“Eh,” he waved her off. “Semantics. So it can’t be legal until the divorce goes through. Whatever. We’ll be married in every way that matters.”

Her head was spinning. “Is— is this just because I’m pregnant? You don’t have to ask me to marry you because of that, you know—“

“It’s not just ‘cause of that, no,” he assured her. “I did that once already. I don’t wanna do it again, and I wouldn’t ask you to marry me if I didn’t really, really want you to.” At her hesitance, he added, “And it’ll be legal as soon as we can swing it. Obviously.”

She felt dizzy. “Have you been planning this? Where did you even get that ring? When did you get that ring?”

“I got it a couple months back,” he admitted. “As soon as I knew I’d never want anybody else, I… I spoke to the jewelers at Cartier, and—“

“Timothée, you did not get me a freakin’ ring custom-made by your fancy jewelry buddies!” she hissed, astonished at the sheer amount of money he’d spent. 

Tim pouted. “You deserve the world, and I want to be the one to give it to you.” He paused. “But, I mean, if you want something else or you don’t want to marry me at all—“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she cut him off. “Nobody in their right mind would say no to that.”

He froze, appearing to stop breathing. “Does… does that mean you’ll… you actually wanna, like…”

“Of course I’ll marry you, stupid,” she told him, swiftly wiping away her tears before reaching for the ring with a shaking hand. “Gimme that.”

He smiled, gazing up at her with more adoration than she could really process, and slid the ring onto her finger.

Jumping back to his feet, he pulled her in for a kiss. She giggled, winding her arms around his neck, and the velvet ring box fell to the tiled floor.

Tag list

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @chalametbich

To be added, please ask 💗

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Return to the Water

Chapter Four: Only For a Moment

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight nine

I know we shouldn’t start, but baby, I’m a slave to the rhythm of your heart.—Marianas Trench, Rhythm of Your Heart

“You want me to bathe wearing panties and a bra?”

“No,” Tim said patiently. “I want you to wear a swimsuit while I teach you how to bathe.”

“I know how to bathe,” she said, defensive.

“You know how to comb and condition your hair so it doesn’t frizz up when it dries?”

Lea pursed her lips. “Okay,” she admitted, “I dunno how to do that.”

“Uh huh.”

He gave her two articles of azure-colored clothing in a strange fabric, and by the time she was done putting them on, he had… removed his shirt and put on those same shorts he’d been wearing when he fell in the ocean.

“Okay,” Tim said as his gaze raked over her body. “C’mon.”

He held a bag of items as he led her out of the bedroom and into what she now knew was a bathroom, and then into a fairly large chamber with blue tiles. “This is a shower,” he explained. “Here, I’ll show you how it works.”

A shower, as it turned out, was essentially a rain chamber. He instructed her on how to turn it on and off and adjust the water to her liking.

“It’s warm,” Lea observed, bewildered.

He stared down at her for a moment. “I… guess you wouldn’t be used to warm water, huh? But yeah, people like varying degrees of heat when they bathe.”

It was several seconds before Lea declared, “Humans are weird,” for the bazillionth time.

“Uh huh,” he said, having heard this plenty of times. “So first, you get your hair wet.” He closed his eyes and put his head under the water. Once his stupidly beautiful curls were plastered to his stupidly beautiful face, he grabbed a small tub off a shelf. “Okay, so this is shampoo.” Tim put some goop from the container on his hand and lathered it into his hair. “It cleans your hair, see? You try.”

Lea hesitantly took some of the goop and put it in her hair, the same way he did. “It smells weird,” she decided.

“Uh huh, most shower stuff is scented,” he explained. “Okay, so make sure you get your scalp really good, and get all the way through your hair. Which must be crazy because yours is so long, but— yeah.”

She tried to do as he instructed, and once she’d done so to his satisfaction, he grabbed a strange metal rod off the wall and pressed a button on it. To her astonishment, a stream of water came out. She stared, bewildered, as he leaned his head back—holy fuck, his jaw when he did that, and water was dripping down his body in rivulets, holy fuck—and rinsed his curls out. “See? You start at your scalp and work your way down.”

“Right,” Lea said slowly, hesitantly accepting the metal rod and trying to do the same. It took much longer, as her hair reached her knees, but she managed it.

“Okay,” he said with a grin, grabbing another tub. “Time for conditioner. You’ve got curly hair, so I apologize for how much of a hassle this’ll be for ya.”

He put the conditioner in his hair, and she mimicked him carefully. The conditioner was the color of gold, and it made her hair look interesting.

Once she’d done that, Timothée smiled at her, and she could’ve sworn her heart stopped. “So we leave that to sit for a little bit,” he explained. He grabbed a cloth. “This is a washcloth,” he told her. “You put soap on it and scrub your body.” When Lea nodded her understanding, he grabbed a bottle and poured some of what she assumed was soap onto it. He gave her a washcloth and encouraged her to rub it over her skin, nodding when she did so in a way he deemed satisfactory. Lea did her best to be quick about it, but when she washed the cleavage between her breasts, he stared at the area as she did, his mouth hanging open a bit.

“What?” Lea said, confused by the way he was staring at her. “You’re looking at me like you want to eat me again. Are you sure humans don’t eat each other?”

Timothée’s mouth snapped closed, and his gaze met hers again. “It’s not exactly a common practice, no,” she said slowly. “Anyway, you’re, uh.” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “You’re doing a good job.” His gaze traveled back down to her breasts again.

“Human men are weird,” Lea observed.

“I imagine mermen are just as weird,” he countered with a small smile.

“There are only mermaids. We don’t have males.”

He blinked down at her in surprise. “Then how do you reproduce?”

“Humans,” Lea said easily, bending over to wash her new legs.

Behind her, she heard Timothée swallow.

Lea couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t slept for more than half an hour at a time since she became human. She knew why; her mother had told her that when her and her sisters’ father was alive, she couldn’t sleep without touching him, if he wasn’t holding her. But what could she say, how could she explain such a thing to Timothée? ‘Hey, Timothée, so I can’t tell you why, but I can’t sleep unless you’re holding me. Don’t ask questions.’ Yeah, no.

The only way she could get any rest was in the little bit of the ocean that was down a ladder by the outdoor bathtub. The villa had.

She was laying there in the sand one night, her body swaying in the ocean, when suddenly, she was ripped from the shallow water.

“What the—?!”

“What are you doing, trying to kill yourself?” Timothée demanded, panting. “You’ll drown!”

“What?” Lea said tiredly. “No, of course not. I was trying to sleep.” He looked confused, so she explained, “Just because I lost my tail doesn’t mean I can’t breathe underwater still.”

His lips parted, and he frowned slightly, considering this. “Oh.”

“Now go away and let me sleep.”

“R— right,” he muttered, presumably going to dry off. Though why humans wanted to get rid of the seawater, she’d never understand.

What helped her sleep that night was the memory of his touch, even though it was only for a moment.

Big thanks to my beta @lilmaymayy

Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19

To be added, please ask 💗

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Hey guys what if I posted the mermaid au where Lea rescues Timothée’s dumbass from drowning as a lil present to myself whatchu think

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Moodboard by @softhecreator

Mr. Chalamet

chapter seven: i’m in love with you, stupid

AO3 info one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven epilogue

All my work is 18+.

Happens so fast, I can’t hold back; I’m addicted, we both know that. It feels like it’s dangerous and I wanna chase it, ‘cause just one look at you, and I’m wasted.- Demi Lavato, Wasted

“No.”

“Please, baby.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Pretty pretty please?”

“No, Tim.”

“But you’ll look so hot as her, though!” her boyfriend insisted, pointing frantically at a picture on his phone of a redheaded woman in a revealing green outfit with leaf detailing. “And you can make it yourself, you’re so good at that!”

She fixed him with a look from her place on the loveseat in their bedroom in the house he'd given her. “Flattery will not convince me to dress up as a comic book character named after a plant that gives you a rash, no matter how into her weird leaf costume you apparently are.”

“I grew up watching Poison Ivy be all sexy, though!” he practically whined. He paused, and then immediately switched to bribery. “I’ll get you anything you want.”

“You already do that,” she pointed out.

“A wardrobe custom made by your favorite designers.”

“You promised me that already.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, thinking. “I’ll pay your tuition.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You mean the thing my mom takes pride in paying for?”

Tim frowned. “Okay, uh…” Then, an idea seemed to occur to him. “Oh! Have you ever heard of Turks and Caicos?”

She pursed her lips. “No.”

“They’re these tropical islands, a few hundred miles off the coast of Florida.”

“So… the Bahamas?” she drawled, unimpressed.

He shook his head. “No, it’s more… exclusive than that. We’ll have more privacy.”

She hummed, considering this.

At her lack of refusal, he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her in close. “Okay, look, just— just picture it, okay? Your birthday, an all-inclusive resort villa, just the two of us…” He paused, brushing his lips over her jaw. “Doing whatever we want, no one to bother us or stop or stop us from waking up in each other’s arms, no one to hide from.” He kissed her neck. “Just you and me, holding hands wherever we want, kissing wherever we want, fucking wherever we want.”

She sighed contentedly, leaning into him.

“Wouldn’t that be nice, sweetheart?” Another kiss to her neck. “Our own private beach all to ourselves.”

“We’d have to go shopping separately,” she pouted.

“No,” he assured her. “I’ll have the store cleared out, you can get whatever you want, and I’ll get to fuck you in the dressing room.”

“Tim!” she giggled, swatting his arm playfully.

“Yes, love of my life?” he asked, smirking against her neck.

She sighed. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll dress up as your dumb character for Halloween.”

“Knew I could convince you.”

“Don’t be smug about it.”

“Will you make the costume yourself?” he asked excitedly.

“Yes, I’ll make it myself,” she said, rolling her eyes. I’ve been making my own costumes since I was ten. Obviously I will.”

“Okay, cool. Make the panties part easy for me to—“

“Tim!”

The Halloween party Tim was hosting was for him and his friends, but he’d told Elle she could invite a few of her friends, too. The fact that Lea could be there without raising eyebrows was an added bonus, he had said. 

Lea, Sam, and Lina showed up to the Chalamet estate after most of the guests had already arrived. Lea was in her Poison Ivy costume, which was essentially a bra and skirt covered in fake ivy and vines. For all intents and purposes, it wasn’t as revealing as it could’ve been; only a few inches of her midriff was exposed. She was pleased with how it had turned out.

Pushing down the urge to knock, she followed the other two girls inside, her heels click-clacking on the marble floors as they moved towards the spiral staircase that led to the laughter and thumping music downstairs. 

They descended the steps and made their way into the huge room with a bar and a wide open space. There was a pool table past a sitting room, too, along with a card table. Not that Lea could see any of that with how many people there were. 

“Lea!” came Elle’s squeal of delight, the taller girl bounding towards her and hugging her with excitement. “You look fantastic!”

“You, too!” Lea nearly shouted over the music. And she meant it; she didn’t know what Elle was dressed as, but she looked awesome.

Sam and Lina waved before heading to the bar to order a drink. Sam loved these parties because hired bartenders didn’t usually charge.

“Are you Poison Ivy?” Elle asked loudly to be heard over the music.

Lea nodded, smiling and hoping her friend wouldn’t ask for details of what the character was like.

“That’s, like, my dad’s favorite character!”

Lea’s eyes widened. It hadn’t occurred to her that Elle might connect the dots on this.

“He has got to see your costume!” Elle declared. “He'll think it’s so cool!”

Tim had made it very clear that his desire to see her dressed as Poison Ivy was deeply sexual. She wasn’t sure how he’d react if Elle—his daughter—was present when he saw her in her costume for the first time.

But Elle was already tugging Lea by the hand through the throngs of people and towards the pool table. He was on the far end, a group of his friends—and his wife, actually; Lea had known Lourdes would be there and Tim had assured her that they were nothing more than friends, they just had to act otherwise around Elle—surrounding him, turned their direction as he lined up a shot.

The exact moment he took it, however, Elle shouted out, “Dad!”

He glanced up, and Lea could see the exact moment he registered her presence, because he froze, his mouth falling open. He rested the cue against the pool table and stumbled towards them, looking somewhat dazed as his eyes raked over her.

“Right?” Elle said excitedly, misinterpreting her father’s reaction entirely. “I thought it’d be fun to show you. It’s a funny coincidence, right?”

“Y— yeah,” Tim stuttered out, his voice hoarse.

Lea smiled at him shyly, taking in his Beetlejuice costume.

“I gotta…” He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, I gotta go… do a thing.”

They watched him as he walked away, though he kept glancing back over his shoulder at Lea. Lourdes looked on with pursed lips and crossed arms. 

“Huh,” Elle said, completely oblivious. “Maybe he’s not as nerdy about her as he used to be.” She shrugged. “Oh well. I’m gonna go get a drink. You want anything?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lea said distractedly. “I’ll come with you.”

They waded through the crowd, and Lea rested her forearms on the bartop when they got there.

“What can I get’cha?” the bartender asked pleasantly.

“Scotch on the rocks,” Elle said cheerfully.

The bartender frowned. “I’ve been specifically instructed not to serve you alcohol, Miss Chalamet.”

Lea snorted. “Two Shirley Temples, please.”

Elle glared at her as the bartender nodded and began to fix their drinks. “That is not what I wanted.”

Lea shrugged. “You can’t drink. You like them. Might as well have something you like.”

Elle stuck her tongue out, and Lea laughed, momentarily distracted from the guilt of fucking her friend’s dad.

The bartender slid their drinks towards them, and Lea smiled, thanking him politely.

Elle took a sip of hers and declared, “I’m gonna go, like, dance or something. You coming?”

Lea felt her phone buzz in the hidden pocket of her skirt. Curious about who it was from, she shook her head. “I’m good, thanks!”

“Kay, see ya!”

Lea waved her friend off with a smile before pulling out her phone. Her heart fluttered when she saw the text was from Tim.

Jfc Lea

Warn a guy next time

She giggled, typing out a response.

You literally told me to wear this

My bad, I underestimated how sexy you are. My apologies, will not happen again

😂😂😂

You’re ridiculous

No I just have an insanely attractive girlfriend, that is absolutely not my fault.

Pfft okay you weirdo

“Hey,” a male voice cut into her giddiness.

Lea glanced up at the owner of the voice. “Uh. Hi.”

The man was tall, thin the way Tim was, and he had nice enough hair and his features were arranged pleasantly enough. But he wasn’t Tim, so, like, whatever.

“Poison Ivy, huh?”

Lea nodded, smiling politely. Other than Tim, she didn’t exactly have a lot of experience with men.

“Cool,” the man said, stepping a bit closer to her. “I’m Anthony. What’s your name?”

“Uh… Lea,” she said slowly, wondering why this random dude—Anthony—was talking to her.

“So, Lea,” Anthony drawled, leaning on the bar close enough to her to where their arms brushed against each other. “What’cha drinkin’?”

“A Shirley Temple,” Lea told him. 

He chuckled. “How ‘bout a real drink?”

She blinked at him. “What, like alcohol?”

“Naturally,” he grinned. 

“Oh, uh…” She swallowed, anxious without really knowing why. “I can’t, but thank you.”

He frowned. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I’m underage,” she said apologetically, “but I appreciate the offer.”

His eyes widened. “How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

Anthony looked almost relieved at that, and Lea couldn’t figure out why for the life of her. “Gotcha. I’m thirty-four, by the way.”

She stared at him for a moment, wondering why in the hell he felt the need to tell her that.”

“So, what do you do for a living?”

“Oh, uh…” Lea took a sip of her drink. “I’m a student.”

“Cool,” Anthony said pleasantly. “What’re you studying?”

“Costume design.”

“Oh, nice! I’m here with my friend Zendaya, actually. You know her?”

Lea’s eyes widened again. “Yeah, we’ve met. She’s cool.”

He nodded, moving even closer to her, to the point where it was almost weird. “Yeah, we’re friends. She’s basically my sister.”

Lea was about to say that that was cool or interesting, or something equally noncommittal, before the voice of her boyfriend cut in, “Lea, hey! Can you help me with something?”

She turned to face him and said, “What do you need help with?”

“Oh, uh…” He blinked rapidly. “Something in the kitchen.”

Lea frowned. “Didn’t you hire someone for that?”

“Right, yeah,” he seemed to recall. Anthony was looking between them, appearing confused, but he didn’t say anything when Tim asked, “I do need help with the pool cues, though.”

Lea raised her eyebrows, realizing he was most definitely trying to pull her away for sex. Not wanting to be rude to a relative stranger, however, she said, “I think the people playing with them might have some issues with that.”

He changed tactics. “Can you help me look for Elle?”

“Yeah,” she said easily, then gestured to the crowd of partygoers. “She’s right there.”

“Oh… uh… thanks,” he mumbled before glancing at Anthony, clearly annoyed (he hid it well, but she knew his moods well by that point), and went off to… talk to Zendaya? He looked pretty irritated, too. What was he angry-whispering at her about?

“So,” Anthony cut into her thoughts, “you know our host?”

“Uh…” Lea blinked, coming back to herself. “Yeah, actually. I’m friends with his daughter, Elle.”

“Isn’t she a high schooler?”

Lea nodded. “She’s taking early college courses at my school, though.”

“Ah,” Anthony nodded. “I see. Well then, would you like to go to din—“

“Anthony,” Zendaya interjected. “Quit bothering Elle’s friends.”

“I’m not bothering her,” Anthony complained. “We were just having a conversation!”

Lea wanted to say that he very much was bothering her, but she’d been raised not to be rude, so she kept silent.

“Sorry, hon,” Zendaya told Lea with a good-natured smile. “I’ll take this idiot off your hands.”

Lea nodded, returning Zendaya’s smile.

Tim was glowering off to the side, his arms crossed. Once Zendaya and Anthony were out of sight, he grabbed Lea by the hand and started dragging her around the bar and towards the theater.

“T— Tim?” Lea sputtered. “What’s with you?”

“C’mon,” he said sharply, squeezing her hand tighter.

“O… kay?”

As soon as they were inside the theater, he let the doors slam shut behind them and flicked the lock.

Within seconds, she was pressed against the doors as he kissed her desperately.

“Tim, what the hell—“ she muttered, gasping softly when he started kissing her neck and reaching down to squeeze her ass, the fake leaves crinkling under his touch.

“You’re mine,” he snapped, his other hand snaking up into her hair. “Mine. Understand?”

“Yeah,” she frowned, “of course I’m yours. What’s wrong?”

He signed, resting his forehead on her shoulder (which was actually kind of a funny sight because of how far he had to lean down to manage it, even when she was in heels). “I hated seeing that asshole hit on you. I hated not being able to fucking say anything about it. I hated not being able to tell him off for hitting on my girlfriend.”

Lea blinked in surprise. “He was… he was hitting on me?”

Tim pulled back, raising his eyebrows at her in disbelief. “You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“Uh…” She was trying to process this news. Someone had been hitting on her? Really? Weird. “I thought he was just being overly friendly.”

“Is that why you didn’t take a single one of the outs I gave you?” he remarked sourly.

Lea stared at him. “What, your excuses to drag me off into a closet somewhere? Yeah, I wasn’t gonna be rude just so you could have your way with me.”

He examined her face, his gaze intense and searching. “So you didn’t want to talk to him?”

“Why would I wanna talk to some random guy I don’t know?” she asked, exasperated.

“Hmm,” Tim hummed. “Did you think he was hot?”

She rolled her eyes. “He was okay.” He frowned, and Lea cupped his cheek. “But I hardly noticed. He wasn’t you, so I didn’t care. If you hadn’t told me he’d been hitting on me, I wouldn’t have noticed that, either.”

Tim smiled slightly, a small quirk of his lips. “Your obliviousness is adorable.”

She bristled. “I’m not oblivious.”

He kissed her nose. “Of course you are, angel. It’s cute.” He sighed. “However, I’m not joking when I say it really fucking sucked to see you getting hit on and not be able to tell the guy to fuck off since you were too polite to.”

“Is that what you were yelling at Zendaya about?”

“I wasn’t yelling at her,” he insisted defensively. “I just talked to her.”

“Uh huh,” Lea said skeptically. “And what did you say to her?”

He looked down, flushing. “I told her that if she didn’t tell her friend to get away from my girl, I’d end up making a scene.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Well,” he began slowly, “I was worried, alright? What if you liked him better than me? You clearly don’t mind older guys, so—“

“That’s even more ridiculous,” she cut him off. “I don’t mind that you’re older. I literally would not be dating anyone at all if it weren’t for you. Why in the hell would you think I’d be interested in some random dude?”

He shrugged and admitted, “I dunno. I just don’t want you to find someone you like more than me.”

“I’m in love with you, stupid,” she reminded him. “I don’t want anybody else.”

“Then why,” he began slowly, mouthing at her neck, “would you let another man hit on you? Hm?”

Lea inhaled sharply. “I… I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s no excuse,” he scolded, trailing a hand down her back to squeeze her ass roughly. “Maybe I should punish you.” She whimpered, and he smirked in response. She knew he did because she felt it against her skin. “Hm? You think I should? You think you deserve it?”

“No,” she argued playfully.

He grabbed her jaw firmly. “That was a rhetorical question, sweetheart. You don’t get to decide that. I do.” With that, he kissed her slowly, passionately, his body pressing hers against the doors. “And I know exactly how I’m gonna do it.”

“How?” she breathed, swiping her tongue over her bottom lip.

“I’ll fuck you,” he decided, “but I won’t satisfy you until after you’ve satisfied me. And then, if you’ve been good while I fill you up, I’ll let you cum.”

She was practically salivating when he kissed her this time, but then he pulled away, dragging her towards the theater seats and facing her towards them so she couldn’t see him.

“Take your panties off,” he snapped, and when she heard him undoing his pants, her entire body tingled with excitement. She obeyed as quickly as she could, hiking the ivy skirt up around her waist and pulling her panties down.

“Green, huh?”

“I— I thought it’d be fun if they matched the costume,” she stuttered, anxious excitement swirling in her stomach.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you did,” he muttered, stepping closer and shoving her over one of the seats. She braced her hands on the armrests so she wouldn’t fall forward, jolting when he gave her sharp smack on the ass. Then, without warning, he slammed into her.

“God, Tim,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering.

“Yeah?” he panted, already fucking into her with such force that she lost her footing, her heels losing traction on the carpeted floors of the theater and sliding out from under her. She had enough balance on the chair to not fall, though, so she let it happen, enjoying the sharp feeling of his hipbones digging into her ass with every thrust. “This what you wanted, you dirty little thing?”

“Mhm,” she whined. “Feels good—“

“Slutty little outfit,” he muttered, smacking her ass again.

Indignant despite the pleasure he was giving her, she said, “You begged me to wear this—“

He grabbed a fist full of her hair and yanked her head back. “Don’t talk back to me, Lea, or I might decide to stop.”

“S— sorry,” she stuttered, desperately wanting him to do anything but stop.

“That’s better,” he murmured, releasing her hair and thrusting into her again, the movement slow, almost leisurely. “You’re right, I did want you to wear this,” he sighed, “but what I didn’t expect was for you to look so goddamn slutty in it.”

“I like the way you look at me when I wear things like this,” she admitted breathlessly. “I like knowing you want me.”

“Oh, is that right?” Tim chuckled lowly. “You like driving me crazy, making me want you so bad I feel like I’m gonna explode? Is that it?”

She nodded, whimpering needily as he fucked her.

“Bad little slut,” he scolded, squeezing her hips, his fingers digging into her skin. “I’m so good to you and you tease me.” He tsked. “What do you have to say for yourself, Lea?”

“Don’t stop,” she moaned.

He smacked her ass sharply. “Bad girl. Apologize.”

“Make me,” she teased, her toes curling in her shoes.

“Oh, I’ll make you, alright,” he rasped, grabbing her by the hair again and fucking her even more harshly. “Gonna pound this pussy until you have to fuckin’ limp out of here.” When she moaned—both at the image and the way he was fucking her—, he laughed. “Oh, you like that, huh? You want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk? Is that it?”

She nodded frantically, clenching her eyes shut and whining, “I want it, feels so good when you fuck me, Tim—“

“Fuck,” he grunted. “You wanna stumble out of here, babydoll? You want everyone to know whose little fucktoy you are?”

“Uh huh,” Lea moaned, her arms giving out under her from the force of his thrusts. She fell to her elbows, barely catching herself. “God, Tim,” she whined.

“You are mine, you got that?”

“Yours, yours, yours,” she chanted, willing to give him anything if he just didn’t stop.

“So the next time,” he panted out, “some guy starts talking to you, being too friendly, say you’ve got a boyfriend. You got that?”

She nodded. “Yes, I— I will, I promise, fuck—“

“Good girl,” he praised, squeezing her hips. “You belong to me. You belong to me.”

“Yes,” she agreed without hesitation, eager to please him, especially when he was inside her like this. ‘“m all yours, I swear.”

“Fuckin’ own you, don’t I?” he growled, smacking her ass again. “Own this tight little pussy, your pretty titties, big fuckin’ ass.”

“Mhm,” she gasped out, trying to arch against him despite the angle. “Every part of me is yours.”

“That’s right, Lea,” he groaned, running his hands up her back and along the fake ivy of her costume. “My pretty baby is all mine.” After a pause, he demanded, “Tell me you love me, sweetheart.”

“I love you, Timothée,” she forced out, her body jolting. Blood had long since rushed to her head, but she hadn’t noticed, really. How could she notice when he was inside her this way, making her feel so good? And anyway, she wanted to be his to use however he liked.

“Yeah?” he rasped, fucking her harder, impossibly harder. “Tell me how much, then.”

“More than anything,” she swore. “I love you more than anything.”

He leaned over and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to her spine. “I love you, too, Lea.” He ran his hands up and down her sides, rocking into her slowly rather than fucking her with harsh thrusts. Another kiss. “So fuckin’ much, sweetheart. So fuckin’ much.”

“I want you to—“ she cut herself off briefly, gulping down the intensity of what she was feeling, the overwhelming amount of love and adoration exuding from her pores.

“What do you want, love?” he asked her quietly, rocking into her. “Tell me.”

“I want… I wanna have your baby,” Lea  admitted. She’d told him that before, he knew she wanted it, but at that exact moment, she wanted him to get her pregnant so badly she thought she might die if he didn’t.

“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned. “I know you want it. Just a little longer, okay? Just a little longer, and I’ll give you a baby, I promise.”

“Please,” she whined softly. “I— I love you so much, I want—“

“I know, Lea,” he assured her gently. “It’s okay. As soon as we can have one, we will. Okay?”

“I want one now,” she whined. “Please, Tim, I want you to get me pregnant right now—“

“I want it, too, baby,” he promised. “But we gotta hold off for a little longer. And I know it’ll be so worth it. I’ll fill you up, fuck a baby into you.” She whined, trying her damnedest to roll her pelvis up against his despite the angle preventing her from doing so. “You want that, darling?”

“Yes, please,” she whimpered.

“I’ll get you pregnant, Lea,” he rasped, kissing her back again, nuzzling into her hair. “I will, I promise. You just gotta be patient for me, alright?”

“Mmmmf,” she whined needily.

“I know,” he chuckled softly, running his hands up and down her sides. “God, baby, I can’t wait to get you pregnant. You’ll look so fuckin’ sexy.”

“I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it—“

“I know,” Tim grunted, thrusting harder again. “I know you do. I’ll give it to you, I swear I will, just— oh fuck, Lea, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep clenching around me like that.”

“Cum in me,” she immediately begged. “I want you to, I want you to cum in me and knock me up, I want it, please—“

“God, of course you want it,” he muttered hoarsely.

“I wanna cum, Tim,” she pleaded.

“Not yet,” he reminded her. “Part of your punishment, remember? You satisfy me first, and then I’ll let you cum.”

Lea decided she was perfectly fine with this, because it meant he’d cum inside her, and how was she gonna say no to that? So she nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Good girl,” he practically growled, driving into her harder, faster. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, gonna fill you up, sweetheart, I—“

She reached behind her and put her hand over his, where it rested at her hip. “Inside me,” she said quietly.

“F— fuck,” he gasped. “I— I love you, Lea, fuck—“

“I love you, too,” she told him breathlessly. “Don’t stop.” She laced their fingers together.

He groaned low in his throat, his thrusts slow and deep, and then they stopped entirely. “Okay,” he panted, pulling out of her. She winced, and he pulled her upright again, kissing her shoulder as he did so. She was wobbly on her feet, which was to be expected, quite frankly, so she had to wrap her arms around his neck as he leaned in to kiss her, snaking a hand between her legs. “You did so good for me, sweetheart,” he said into their kiss as he started rubbing her clit. “Wanna make you cum for me. Such a good girl.”

Lea whimpered, her hands tangling in his hair. “Tim,” she gasped, her orgasm approaching at a rate that was actually pretty embarrassing. In her defense, though, he was really good at getting her off.

“That’s right,” he encouraged softly, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck. “Sweet girl. Cum for me, love.”

“Tim,” she moaned, her legs shaking from how close she was, how good it felt. He wrapped an arm around her waist so as to hold her up and rubbed her clit faster, using his own cum to ease his movements.

“There you go, baby,” he said. “C’mon, give it to me. Cum.”

And when she did, he kissed her firmly to swallow her moans. They kept kissing as she came down. Dazed and worn out, Lea blinked up at him blearily.

He smiled down at her affectionately and brushed her hair away from her face. “I love you.” She had barely managed to return the sentiment before he kissed her again, something like desperation bleeding into it. When he pulled away, he cupped her face in his hands. “Lea, sweetheart, how would you feel about going public?”

She frowned, turning his words over in her head, which was still fuzzy from her orgasm. “Public? What do you mean?”

He took her hand in his, grabbing a box of tissues off the table near the theater doors and handing her several to clean herself with. She did so with the hand he didn’t seem to want to let go of.

“I mean, like…” He paused. “Not hiding that we’re together. We could go on dates without worrying, you could travel with me openly, I could kiss you in public if I wanted.”

She tensed, throwing the tissues away and dropping them into a nearby trash can. “But… but what about Elle? And— and your wife?”

Tim shrugged. “She’s here. We should talk to her about it.” He squeezed her hand. “About us.”

She smiled. “You really want that with me? You’re sure?”

He nodded. “I can’t handle seeing some asshole hit on you again and not be able to say anything. I can’t. I love you and I want to be able to be with you without worrying about hiding it.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned up to kiss him. “I love you, too.”

“Is… is that a yes?”

“Of course it is,” she giggled. “It’ll be weird to not have it confined to your finsta anymore.”

“Well, most of those pictures aren’t gonna be public,” he pointed out.

Lea hummed. “Does this mean you’re gonna get divorced sooner rather than later?”

He nodded. “If Lola agrees, yeah. I just gotta run it by her first.”

“Okay,” Lea said happily.

“Okay, so you stay here for five minutes and then come out, okay? We can’t raise any eyebrows quite yet.” She nodded, and he took her chin between his fingers and leaned down to kiss her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“More than anything?”

“Well, don’t be a dick about it.”

He laughed and kissed her again.

This fic is the tape which I have wrapped around myself so as not to fall apart btw hope you enjoy

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