#and then drive thru a snowstorm

[alltherelicsofalifelonglived]

hggggghhh save me tylenol

[gaintsnowflake]

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 | 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌

SNOW ˗ˏˋ꒰ minor, she/they, bisexual

request rules | about me | masterlist

request : open... on break

recently writen : 𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 | george karim x reader

fan favorite : 𝐁𝐄𝐃 | anthony lockwood x reader

[fandomnerd9602]

Winter Comfort (🌶️)

Wolf!Natasha x Reader

The weather predictions weren’t looking good for the entire upper east coast. The forecast was a winter blizzard would be making its way through and the Westview sanctuary was right in the blizzard’s path.

You and Natasha worked hard to fortify the sanctuary and your apartment from the coming storm.

“We should all stay at my apartment, Natasha” you told your girlfriend only for Yelena to interrupt.

“What about my cave? It’s roomy, open aired and I literally just answered my own question” Natasha huffs, “fine. But I want cuddles and a James Bond film”

“Deal” you answer with a smile.

“You two lovebirds can stay at your apartment,” the blond wolf chimed, “I am going to wait out the storm with Kate Bishop”

“I feel terrible for Kate” Natasha smirked. “Putting up with you? Oof”

Yelena rolled her eyes and jumped into her jeep, driving off to meet up with her best friend.

You and your wolf girlfriend got the hybrids all comfortable and the place well heated. The back up generator was good to go.

And with that, the sanctuary was fortified and ready for the storm. You and Natasha went back to your apartment.

You and Natasha cooked dinner, danced to a few favorite songs and then found yourselves curled up on your couch watching a classic James Bond movie.

“You always known how to treat me” Natasha giggles as she lays in your arms. She begins grinding her hips against yours. It was slow and steady, if it wasn’t for proximity, you wouldn’t have noticed. But you did.

“Are you w-warm enough, baby?” You tried to form a proper sentence but her little repeating action was putting your mind on the Fritz.

“I’m still a little cold” she purrs against your chest, “maybe you can warm me up”

She just keeps nuzzling you, breathing in your scent, rubbing her arms all over your chest, her legs sliding against yours. Her tail gently teasing your thighs.

“Natasha” you tried to say thru a mixture of giggles and a growing blush.

“Hmm? What is it, malysh?” She asked, batting her eyes playfully at you. Her eyes however held a certain amount of mischief.

“Y-You know what you’re doing to me”

She nuzzles you, her tail now swaying at you seductively. “Do I? Or are you reading between the lines?”

You rub her lower back reassuringly, placing little kisses to her lips, “Is this what you want?”

She kisses you right back, purring in your ear, “i want you. plain and simple, malysh”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” your wolf hybrid girl giggles before kissing you again.

“What about the movie?”

She runs her hands under your shirt, “I’ve seen the Spy Who Loved Me a hundred times already”

And with that you pick her up and carry her to your bedroom. She wraps her legs around your waist, holding onto you and giggling. Her reddish tail swishing side to side happily.

You lay her down gently on your bed, kissing her neck, caressing her so tenderly.

“I can’t believe it” you whisper against her ear.

“Me neither.” Natasha giggles, “our first time and we’re doing it in the middle of a snowstorm”

“There’s that,” you shrug, “but I just can’t believe how lucky I am to be love with my best friend”

Natasha gazes into your eyes with pure love and adoration, her voice comes out a little pleading but also a little giddy too, “just take me already you romantic goof!”

You help her out of her thermals as she tries to claw you out of yours. The two of you kiss and tumble over your bed, lost in the all consuming, all encompassing feelings of love.

Despite her earlier energy levels, your first time was gentle and loving. Natasha didn’t want to take her eyes off you while you just were in awe of the way her eyes showed every bit of love and joy. You wanted this time to be about her, while she wanted it to be about you.

Her claws gently scratched down your back as the euphoric bliss washed over her. Her breathing became a series of desperate little panting sounds, “(Y/N)! My love!…” after that her voice became a series of loving, joyful phrases whispered in the Russian language. You knew a few words so you knew she was experiencing an immense amount of pleasure and joy, she was practically a mess in your arms.

Her little moans, the way she giggles and gasps. All of it just made you fall more and more in love with her. Her pleads, her panting voice, it all made you want to strive to make her feel it more and more. She was your ecstasy, your love, your wolf girl.

“Natasha,” the way you said in her name made her bite her lip happily. She wanted to hear you say it more often.

The two of you collapsed against one another a happy mess, sharing a gentle, loving laugh with each other. Natasha’s reddish curls covered her face and a bit of yours. Your honey wolf wrapped her entire body around you like a contented sloth on a branch. Her tail swished happy and content under the covers of your bed.

“Hmm…by the gods I love you” she said with a little content sigh on her lips.

“I love you” you whispered back, just wanting nothing more to do than hold her in your arms for all eternity.

“Sounds like the storm is starting to clear up” Natasha commented.

“I’m still a little cold” you joked, earning a giggle from your wolf paramour.

“We got time”

You kiss her tenderly, “all the time in the world, my love”

Her tail wagged happily in response. How did you go this long without her in your arms before?

Yes the weather outside was frightful but laying there in the comfort of your bed with your loving redheaded wolf girl was so delightful.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @redhoodte @scarletquake-n7 @iiconicsfan25 @jacenradio7 @julieromanoff @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @ab1nsur @iamnicodemus @moonlit-imagines @moonlit-ficrecs @multi-fandom-enjoyer @ma1egamer @russianredassassin @revanshand @texaswolf23

[perseephoneee]

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 @tm4issuesandbooks

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange information ↳ taglist

-͟͟͞☆I ship you with Sirius Black! Sirius is a total ham to the nth degree but also very loving to his friends. He values genuine connection over blind loyalty, and I think that's what you need. Someone who continuously reminds you that you are worth it and won't disappoint you.

-͟͟͞☆Headcanons:

James was appalled that Sirius, of all people, was dating a Slytherin, but then the Marauders met you and totally understood.

You get along well with Remus, mainly because you love reading and learning about the world. Sirius has asked you to do his History of Magic homework a gazillion times but James encourages you to ignore him.

-͟͟͞☆Tropes:

golden retriever x black cat would burn the planet for you

-͟͟͞☆Playlist:

black friday -- tom odell

flightless bird, american mouth -- iron & wine

-͟͟͞☆I ship you with Peter Parker! Peter is the cutest ball of energy that has endless love to give. I think he'd match your passions well and also push you to be better. You'll be able to benefit him in the long run, too, a mutually beneficial relationship if I do say so myself.

-͟͟͞☆Headcanons:

study sessions broken up by pokemon re-runs?? he gives you your favorite starter as a keychain for your one month anniversary

he calls you 'wise girl' just to see you get all giggly

-͟͟͞☆Tropes:

fated loves "mcdonalds mcdonalds!" x goes to the drive-thru just to get black coffee

-͟͟͞☆Playlist:

the night we met -- lord huron

soldier, poet, king -- the oh hellos

home -- edward sharpe & the magnetic zeroes

-͟͟͞☆I ship you with Kol Mikaelson! (Take your pic, which one, lol). Kol is often perceived as reckless and a bit of a hothead, but in truth, he's mischievous with a thirst for knowledge. He surrounds himself with people he can learn from and enjoys pushing others' buttons because what else do you do over the centuries? He might drive you nuts most of the time, but one thing is for certain: He will protect you with his life.

-͟͟͞☆Headcanons:

Kol becomes such a sap in a relationship, its ridiculous. He'll hold your hand whenever he can, or get you something you barely glanced at in a store, or push love notes under your door. Rebekah jokes that if he was a cartoon, his eyes would be hearts all the time.

During a snowstorm, you convinced Kol to read the Percy Jackson series, which led to him labeling all of his siblings as 'children of...' until they all blocked him on their phones.

He also tried to convince you that he was totally the "son of aphrodite" because he was a 'good lover'

-͟͟͞☆Tropes:

rivals to lovers he fell first but you fell harder

-͟͟͞☆Playlist:

bodybag -- chloe moriondo

heartbeats -- jose gonzalez

i will follow you into the dark -- death cab for cutie

[seroquelling]

pondering the bat shit / funny things i've done / experienced in my 28 years on this planet:

drove my car into a fence post at 3am in the middle of nowhere. lost my side mirror and spent the next 20 minutes on the side of the road in a wheat field looking for it. never found it.

drunkenly fell off of someone's balcony at a party and landed ass first into a trashcan below. it took three people turning the trashcan over to get me out because i'm short and thin so i had folded in half inside of it. managed to not spill my beer, somehow.

drove in the middle of a severe snowstorm on the highway to go to my friends house at 4am. tried to drive through a snow mound and got my car stuck. had to flag down strangers that were driving past. they let me sit in their truck while they pushed my car out of the snow. instead of turning back and going home, i drove the rest of the 30mins to my friends house.

had a psychotic break and tried to cut my arm off with a machete.

broke into my bosses warehouse after my shift @ 12am because he left his puppy in there overnight and wasn't feeding it.

was climbing up the stairs to my friends apartment at 1am in the middle of the winter. had a heavy ass backpack on full of booze i'd stolen from my job, and a 30pack of beer in my arms. slipped on the second to last step at the top and fell head over feet all the way back down. passed out cuz my head hit concrete at the bottom. friend found me five minutes later and had to drag me up the stairs. had a concussion. still enjoyed beers with them.

used to beg people to have 'friendly fist fights' with me at my old job. still have scarred knuckles because of it.

went to a very country bar in the deep south of my hometown. not a very safe place for lgbt ppl. slammed a pitcher of beer, and bought a rose and gave it to a pretty girl at the table next to me that was with some guy. ended up charming her enough that we slow danced together. almost got into a fight with the dude over it.

sold all of my shit and moved to a foreign country with no real plan in mind. twice.

convinced an entire bar to do the cupid shuffle with me

drove to taco bell in the middle of a snowstorm because i was craving it. ended up in a ditch on the way back. had to call a towing company a few days later to get my car out. got a concussion from that too bc my head hit the steering wheel

three days after trying to hack off my own arm with a machete, i went to a party full of people i'd only met once. convinced some guy that was there to let me pierce his nose. did. then hooked up with him. made out with two other people the same night.

almost died while swimming in the ocean because i got caught in the riptide. didn't yell for help because 'that's embarrassing'. in the end some dude on a surfboard saved me and got me back to shore.

took acid in the middle of the woods with a coworker i barely knew. went to work the next day still tripping bc someone called in.

snuck out of my house and drunkenly climbed up a mountain with friends, in flip flops. they broke on the way down and i had to be piggyback carried by one of the guys in our group all the way back to the bottom. when we got to the bottom, one of the guys realized he left his keys at the top - i had like barely an hour to get home before my mom woke up and realized i'd snuck out. made it back to my side of town with five minutes to spare. friend took a wrong turn and instead of letting him turn around, i jumped out of the (still moving) car and ran across peoples yards, vaulted over fences, barefoot, before diving back in thru my window. managed to get back into bed just before my mom came to check on me before work.

defended my coworker from people who were trying to steal / cause a scene with my switchblade.

threw a used tampon into my friends neighbors open kitchen window because they'd called her a slur. he came outside with a shotgun and we fled into the cornfield behind his house.

got dropped off after a party and tried to make my way back toward my window to sneak back in. passed out in the front yard face down in the grass.

got into a (verbal) fight with an old ex boyfriend in a parking lot because he'd cheated on me. he dropped a taco he'd had in his hand and as he was bending to pick it up i kicked it all the way across the parking lot. it exploded into a rain of shredded cheese and lettuce.

a coworker at an old job dropped his phone into a large dumpster out back. trying to win his affections, i jumped inside and waded thru trash juice and muck to look for it.

hooked up with someone at a funeral.

tried to contact the fae and bargain with them to take out a coworker i hated. he had a heart attack (lived.)

i realized halfway thru writing all of this why maybe no one sticks around for me in relationships.

[adventuresandstuffs]

Some final thoughts…

Well, we made it to the top. And on the day that we were making it to the top, there was a snowstorm the night before and I fell on and thru some ice. I landed on my ribs and broke one of them. I ended up completing the final day up with a broken rib, and then did another ~25 miles down the trail with a broken rib. We also ended up walking about 15 miles around Kathmandu. It honestly took the wind out of my sails. It sucked. It hurt. It still hurts. And as of yesterday (11 April), I went to the doctor and the only thing I can do is be lazy for the next 6 weeks for it to heal. It feels really weird and uncomfortable to have spent 2 weeks putting so many miles under my feet, to come home and sit on the couch so my rib can heal.

The going down part of the trek is kind of a… lie. Even going down you’re still going up. In and out of valleys. We still added about 3k feet of elevation gain in the 25 miles we did going down. Not as intense as adding 3k feet of elevation gain in 6 miles going up, but was still intense. We woke up the morning after base camp feeling like absolute garbage. The elevation really takes a toll on you and that’s one of the worst days that I’ve ever felt, and the rib didn’t help. Even our guide felt bad that day. So getting down in elevation was great. With every 1k foot drop, breathing got a little easier.

We trekked down for 2 days. We were meant to trek down for 3 days, but, due to a change in our flight back to Kathmandu, we had a change of plans. We were told that our flight from Lukla (beginning and ending of the trek) to Kathmandu was canceled and we’d instead have to take a flight from Lukla to some city 5 hours away from Kathmandu and then take a bus. Or, we could take a helicopter for $350. We chose the helicopter. Turns out, the price of the helicopter from where we were in Namche Bazzaar to Kathmandu was the same price as the helicopter from Lukla to Kathmandu. We chose to skip the final day and 10 miles of trekking and take the helicopter from Namche.

We got back to our hotel in Kathmandu Wednesday morning around 11 and we didn’t leave the bed all day, with the exception of getting some lunch and dinner, which we did at the hotel. Thursday and Friday we explored the chaos of Kathmandu and on Thursday night we joined our guide Kiran and the owner of the company that we used for some Mexican food. Kiran told us that he’d never had Mexican food so we had to change that. We found a spot owned by a Mexican expat and they had outstanding food.

And with that, our time in Kathmandu was done. We had a 0230am Saturday flight to Doha and then a 730am flight back to Atlanta, then a drive back to Nashville. Finally, around 10pm Saturday night, after traveling for about 36 hours and being awake nonstop for more than 50 hours (I couldn’t sleep on the plane with the sore rib) we made it home.

I’m still jetlagged.

All and all, it was an incredible trip. Painful at times, rough overall, but the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. Would I do it again…. Yes, but this time I’d take the helicopter from base camp and skip any of the trekking down. And hopefully, next time, I don’t break anything.

I’m already looking forward to the next adventure in October with I do some of the 14k’rs out in California and climb the highest mountain in the continental US.

But for now, doctors orders, rest.

[thechiton]

i fell asleep at a death metal concert and i felt bad bcause i liked the music and it was fun but i was sooo tired and i didnt have anything to occupy myself with and then i had to drive myself home an hour thru a snowstorm at 1 am (a week after id gotten in a car accident my first time driving downtown) (six months after id wrecked my car falling asleep at the wheel midday) and i was like this is not my best move guys,

[always-borrowed]

fuck work for making me drive 30 minutes thru a snowstorm to do nothing

[restinthewest]

I’ve had this fantasy for like ten years that has kind of been a joke kind of not where I’ve wanted to become a truck driver. I’m beginning to think that I should actually start taking steps to make it happen.

[oflgtfol]

will wood was right when he said “well if winter comes and takes my life / will it be the death i had in mind?”

[disasterpurplebois]

Goodnight all.

[fayes-fics]

Somewhere Only We Know

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Five hours of snowfall, four miles from the nearest paved road, three weeks before Christmas, two old friends and one bed….

Warnings: 18+smut, minors DNI, fingering, handjob, vaginal sex, passing mention of oral sex, all sorts of feelings.

Word Count: 7.9 k I'm so sorry...

Build a blurb prompt 1: Benedict 👅 smut 🌲 mutual pining 🛌 only one bed - from @amillcitygirl Build a blurb prompt 2: modern Benedict 👅smut 👥friends to lovers 🌲mutual pining 🛌only one bed - from anon

Authors Note: *beep beep* make way for the trope bus, it’s coming thru!! Is this original? No. Was it fun to write? Hell YES! This thing was supposed to be 1k follower celebration Drabble (HAHAHA) but it grew its own legs and took over my brain for the last week. This is my winter epic and I even listened to the namesake song as I was editing it. I hope you all enjoy. Betaed by the total trooper @makaylan and beautiful artwork above made especially by @bridgertontess thank you 🧡

“You’ll just have to stay here,” he shrugs, peering out at the falling snow.

You glance at your watch. It’s 5pm and already dark, snowflakes swirling furiously in the glow cast by the window.

This was not your plan. You are booked onto a late flight back to London tonight. You only came out to the beautiful Highlands for a day in nature after your business trip to Glasgow. OK, and a dose of time with the most handsome friend you have, but mainly for the scenery.

He’s rented a tiny cottage for a week as a painting retreat. Why he would do that in early December is a slight mystery. However, the scenery will undoubtedly be even more breathtaking with a blanket of snow tomorrow—an artist's dream.

“Look, the roads here are tiny and treacherous. It’s too risky to attempt the airport drive tonight in the dark in this snowstorm. I will pay for you to fly home tomorrow instead,” Benedict assures, “penance for not checking the forecast before inviting you?” he winces in the hopes of forgiveness.

“But…” you protest weakly, not exactly hating the idea of being trapped in a remote cottage in the mountains with the man who has haunted your dreams for more years than you care to remember.

“This place is warm,” he points to the roaring fireplace. “And well stocked, in more ways than one,” he adds, gesturing to the kitchenette full of supplies and, with a flourish, to the small selection of single malt bottles on a nearby shelf. “There’s even some festive decor,” he argues.

You are entertained that he believes some sprigs of holly, which he has obviously collected on one of his hikes, count as Christmas decorations. Although, to be fair, wrapped around the bookshelves and candles the way it is, it does look lovely.

‘Yes, but… there's also only one bed,” you argue, nodding to the not-exactly sizable double bed at the other end of the room, partially obscured by a room-dividing bookshelf. Even as you mention it, your belly has a warm fizz at the fleeting thought of waking up pressed against him.

“I can sleep on the sofa,” he says hurriedly in a reassuring tone.

“Ben, don't be ridiculous. You are six feet tall, and that thing is barely five. We are not so young we can just sleep anywhere and still be okay anymore,” you remind him.

“Yeah, thanks for that reminder,” he deadpans.

“We are grown-ups; we can share a bed,” trying to keep your tone breezy, but it feels like the reassurance is for yourself as much as him.

You pretend not to see how he swallows thickly at your suggestion, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily.

“If it makes you more comfortable, I can fashion a barrier with some throw cushions,” you shrug, a short nervous laugh bubbling up as you secretly chastise yourself for suggesting such a thing.

“No, no,” he rushes out very quickly. “What I mean is… it’s not a big bed, so by the time we do that, we would both be clinging to the edges. Let’s just, as you say, be adults about this and share the best we can.”

“Agreed.” You give a business-like nod, wanting to change the topic.

“Besides, the night is young,” he states, clapping and rubbing his hands together as if reading your mind. “What do you say we cook dinner together? Then, well, it’s card games or jigsaw puzzles, I’m afraid,” he skews his mouth with an apologetic twist.

“Sounds delightful on all counts,” you assure and bump him with your shoulder.

The evening seems to fly by, and the snowstorm outside somewhat abates as you make a delicious spaghetti bolognese together. Even though it's a tiny kitchen space, you make it work, moving around each other with an almost balletic fluidity as soft music plays from a Bluetooth speaker. There's no Wi-Fi or even much phone signal out here, but he came prepared with songs loaded onto his laptop. You exchange easy chat about mutual friends and what has been happening since you last saw one another a few weeks before.

As you sit down to eat together, the conversation flow continues. It's one of those meals you sop up the sauce from your plate with the warm bread rolls you serve as a side. Lingering in your chairs long after eating is complete, chatting amiably and animatedly about anything, everything and nothing all at once, with a delicious bottle of scotch.

Later, you take turns in the bathroom, cleaning teeth and changing into pyjama bottoms, and then you drift to the living room area. You watch as Benedict pours you both a nightcap into scotch glasses and glance outside to see the storm has picked up again, large clumps of fluffy snow gather in the corner of the window pane; you feel very cosy in this small but perfectly formed little rustic cottage.

“So, how have you been entertaining yourself all alone here for the last four nights?” you inquire, enjoying the smooth, smoky burn of the single malt.

Benedict is now sprawled across the nearby armchair in the most Benedict way, legs akimbo.

“I’ve read two books, and I’ve slept for nine hours every night,” he confesses, taking a sip of his drink and looking at you over the top of his glass.

The room feels like it's getting warmer regardless of the fire; how much is due to the delightful fog of whisky in your veins versus the handsome man across from you is indecipherable.

“Are you not lonely?” you blurt out.

“I live alone in London. What's the difference?” his brow knitting in confusion.

“Alone in the city is very different to alone out here,” you offer, “you can’t be that lonely when you’re only twenty feet from your neighbour through a wall.”

“Hmm, never thought about it like that,” his mien turns thoughtful, scratching his palm on the shadow of stubble on his chin.

You hear the rasp from where you sit, and you almost squeak in surprise as your treacherous mind supplies a vivid snapshot of that stubble teasing the soft skin of your lower belly as he looks up at you with a seductive smirk. You have to shake your head to get rid of it.

“Fear of murder out here is different,” you offer, trying to reroute your thoughts.

“Morbid,” he shoots back, raising an eyebrow with a bemused expression on his face.

“Out here, no one can hear you scream,” you jest, aping the movie line.

He guffaws into his glass. “Sometimes that can be a good thing.”

“Murder?!”

“The ability to scream and not be heard,” he clarifies, his tone markedly more languid than before.

“Painting not going well?” you ask with a chuckle.

“It’s going great, but not what I was referring to,” he argues, and you can’t seem to look away from his mouth all of a sudden.

Damn, how much whisky have you had?

“Had a girl here, Bridgerton?” your venture, a flutter in your chest even as you ask.

“Not until now,” he scoffs, but the intensity in his hazy blue stare causes a riot in your stomach.

You have to look down at your feet before you do something stupid, like climb into his lap and suck on his luscious bottom lip.

“Have you been masturbating loudly?” you quip, still looking down, the thought leaving your lips before you can censor it.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, making you look back at him—big mistake. His eyes look stormy, and you can see a vein in his neck pulsing hard. Like you’ve awoken something.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” you stutter even as your mind floods with images of just that—him stroking his cock and panting, preferably your name.

The atmosphere feels a little too thick, and you briefly curl your lip into your mouth and bite it to give yourself something else to focus on.

“More whisky?” you offer, standing up and changing the subject.

“Sure.” He holds out his glass, and you swear his fingers intentionally slot between yours as he passes it to you.

You use the few moments it takes to refill your drinks, with your back turned, to gather your thoughts and slow your breathing. Having served, you sink onto the couch again but intentionally shift to face him more directly. The alcohol makes you bold and intrigued to know where this might go. He seems to do the same, his feet looping over the armchair's edge and almost touching yours.

“Hey, do you remember that summer when we were, l think, maybe twelve and…”

“Excuse me, point of order,” you butt in, “If you were twelve, I was ten. OK? Continue…” you motion with your hands for him to go on.

“Yes, thanks for reminding me I am older,” he snarks and skews his mouth into an affectionate pout.

“You are welcome, old man,” you tease with a slight smirk.

“Well, anyway… do you remember that summer Colin came home with headlice? And Ant’s answer was to shave all of our heads? Mum almost had a heart attack when she walked in on that. She was forever grateful he’d only gotten around to doing us three boys. She might have died if we’d made it down to Daph or El…” he is laughing heartily around his scotch glass at the memory.

“Remember it?!?” you pipe up, “of course I do! Don't you remember you were trying to push me in front of your sisters in Ant’s barber line? You seemed concerned to ensure I either got rid of or never got them in the first place; I don't remember which,” you laugh, an ache of fond nostalgia in your chest at little Benedict.

“Well, of course, I’ve always looked out for you,” he rolls his eyes as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

You smile a genuinely warm smile at him. He's been a wonderful person in your life for as long as you can remember.

“But you’ve always looked out for me too. I remember you brought me a Malteser every day when I was sick with the mumps.”

“I did?!” your voice incredulous; you do not remember doing so.

“Yes, and I've never forgotten it,” he voices sincerely before he takes a draw of his drink. “But then there is so much about you that is unforgettable, isn't there?” he adds, looking at you with an intensity you don't know what to do with.

“Stop it,” you answer bashfully, embarrassed to meet his gaze, staring beyond his shoulder at the snow falling heavily and sticking to the window in fluffy clumps. “And if we’re on this flattery train, what about you? You think I don’t know it’s been you sending me an ‘anonymous’ rose every single Valentine's Day?”

He gapes at you in surprise. “Wait, how did you know it’s from me?’”

“You are the sweetest person I know. It could never be anyone but you, Ben.” You shrug as if the answer is obvious, “and I know it was never out of pity for the times I’m single because you sent one those years I was with Dan, which used to make him so mad, by the way, and when I was with Julian and Paul….”

“Urgh, Dan deserved to be mad,” his tone dismissive, and his face ticked, “I always hated him.”

“You hated everyone I dated, that you met anyway,” you point out, that fact just dawning on your as you speak it.

“But him the most,” he grouses with a sour expression.

“Why?”

“‘Cos he got the closest to marrying you. And I really didn’t want to have to do that whole stand-up in church and object thing. But, by god, I would have.”

His powerful words stun you; you had no idea how deep his feelings on the subject ran.

“Y… you would?” you stutter.

His eyes are so intense now. Even as he takes a swig, he doesn't look away. “He was not worthy of you,” he declares, slow and deliberate, enunciating each word crisply.

“So, who is?” you ask quietly as you take a sip, the question echoing hollowly in your glass.

“I haven't met anyone yet,” he notes with finality.

You had no idea he had judged every single one of your boyfriends and, what’s more, found all of them to be somehow lacking. In hindsight, he was correct, but he never said anything to you at the time, and you can't decide if you want to hold that against him. It might have saved you a lot of heartache and possibly a lot of money.

“Well, if you meet someone that has the Benedict seal of approval, you’ll be sure to send them my way, yeah?” you volley, your voice light.

He breaks into a smile that makes something flutter strong in your ribcage.

“Certainly. I hope you don't mind waiting until possibly your eighties for me to find a worthy suitor,” he jokes.

“Oh god, really?” you groan, “but I can’t not have sex until then,” you lament and kick your legs out as if in a fit of pique.

“Oh, you can have all the sex you want,” he lobbies back, waving his hand dismissively, “you just can’t fall in love,” his eyes twinkle with mischief you’ve always found beguiling.

“Duly noted,” you giggle.

There is a beat where you just look at each other with a shared fondness that makes your heart ache a little—perhaps under different circumstances, he could be the one person worthy of you, as he puts it.

“Well, that is the last log on the fire dying down. I'm not going out in that damn snow to fetch more, so I think the safest thing to do is get under the covers before it gets too cold in here.” he opines.

“Ben, it's 10:30 pm… really?” you whine, “are you really going to bed already, grandpa?” but as you complain, you stifle a yawn.

“Haha, I saw that yawn!” he retorts triumphantly, “and I've got news for you, missy. You are going to bed too.” He grabs both of your hands and easily hauls you off the sofa.

“Why?!?” you scoff but are secretly enthralled when he rounds behind you, his sizable hands landing warm on your hips and propelling you towards the bedroom area.

“Because I’m not having you crawl under the covers later bringing in all that cold air with you, nope, no thank you, not happening,” he chimes over your shoulder.

“So I have to go to bed now?!” you throw your hands up in the air, but he keeps propelling you forward.

“Yup,” he grins, popping the ‘p’ rather obnoxiously.

You capitulate with a weary sigh. “Urghhh, fine. But I will be up reading for a few more hours, so I hope you can sleep with the light on.”

“Fine with me,” he chuckles, herding you towards the bed. “I once slept in your dorm room when your flatmate was having a full-on dance party. I think I can sleep through your reading.”

You collapse onto the bed giggling at that memory, tugging off your shoes and socks but nothing else as he does the same. He pulls the covers back, and you both settle under, still in your fleecy jumpers. Without your socks, however, your feet feel freezing, and with a wicked grin, you cook up a solution.

“Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with your feet?!? Why are they so cold!!” he exclaims as your toes wrap around his exposed ankle.

He twists to try and get away from you, but your feet chase him under the covers, you laughing, him shrieking.

“My hands are cold too,” you chortle, clamping them onto his surprisingly muscular forearm.

He squeals in the most undignified manner, trying to shake your grip, but you just limpet on harder, giggling in that way only tipsy people do.

There is the most delightful resulting tussle, him trying to wrestle your hands and feet away as you try your damndest to keep them on him—the duvet entwining around all of your limbs.

You end up with his weight and warmth partially on top of you, pinning you down, him triumphantly ensnaring your wrists and holding your hands firmly onto the pillow. Your joint heavy breathing and giggles slowly die out as you stare at each other. Your faces have never been so close before. You have no doubt your pupils are as blown as his, and you are certain that he can feel the racing heartbeat at your wrists where he pins you down. His breath is warm on your cheek.

After a few silent moments, his gaze drops to your mouth; he suddenly mutters an apology and starts to pull away.

As if in slow motion, you push up and press your lips to his. You are not thinking at all, just going with your instinct. His lips are warm and plush, and you want more. So much more.

You feel the moment his whole body freezes; he is stunned in the truest sense of the word.

You pull back quickly, sinking into the pillow under him.

“Oh god. I’m so, so sorry,” you whisper, mortified, “please forgive me, I….”

Your words die out as he makes a noise you’ve never heard before. It seems to come from deep inside him, making every hair on your body stand on end.

Then he is on you. Closing the gap between you and capturing your lips with a passion that steals your breath and thoughts. He is kissing so hard, so quickly, you feel lightheaded, pressing you into the mattress under his body. His lips open over yours, his tongue teasing against your lips. He tastes of toothpaste, traces of whiskey and something that is all him, and you flood your underwear; there's also a noise from your throat that doesn’t sound human. He kisses like a storm, hot and electric, and you want to drown in him.

Suddenly his hands are everywhere, and so yours follow suit. It’s a desperate clambering of wanting more. Before you can completely acknowledge it, his hands are questing under your jumper, squeezing your waist, sliding up and over your bra, and tweaking a nipple as his tongue parries with yours.

“Please, please take this off,” he implores passionately into your mouth, tugging at your top. His voice, this close and breathless, is lethal. He is everywhere, surrounding and covering you, and your focus narrows to just him as he sits up to peel off his jumper and t-shirt together, exposing his torso. You freeze. Your arms crossed, halfway through taking off yours.

“Fucking hell,” you exhale before you can stop yourself.

You figured Benedict would be in shape from the feel of his body when you hug, but you haven't seen him shirtless in a long time, and just how much in shape he is, is a revelation. He smiles demurely at your outburst, which makes you want him even more if that were possible.

“Take yours off,” he sounds impatient, and you realise you are still frozen in the same position. You quickly whip yours over your head; his responding noise is your new favourite sound. You feel so grateful you only brought nice underwear on this trip; your lacy bra appears to work for him.

“The knickers match,” you murmur, revelling in the flash in his eye.

You grab his hand and move it to the drawstring on your pyjamas. His long slender fingers pluck the bow tied there; his gaze is on your face the whole time, his kiss-damp lips glowing softly in the low light. You breathe deeply and can’t look away from his captivating face. When the string relents, he winks. Rather than pull them down, his hand quests inside and between your legs.

You gasp and buck up off the pillow as warm, strong fingers press on your clit through the lacy fabric. You know he can feel your heat, just how wet the material is.

“I’ve wanted you for years,” he rumbles low and sinful as his fingers tease a circle over your clit. “Although this seems unreal - I half assume I’m going to wake up in a minute with my hand wrapped around my cock, alone.”

Hearing him say the word cock makes you moan. He licks his lips, and his fingers curl firmer on you.

“Tell me this is real; I’m not dreaming again,” he pleads fervently, pressing his forehead to yours, breathing your air. He is achingly beautiful this close up, his eyes just a thin ring blazing around dark inky pupils staring into your depths. This man has always been able to make you feel seen, but this close, this intense, it feels like he’s peering into your soul.

“You’re not dreaming, Ben,” you reply shakily, trying not to lose all composure at what the word ‘again’ might imply as he gradually tortures you with unhurried, steady movements.

He is watching your face, so closely observing, cataloguing your micro-expressions. His fingers move, spidering along the lace trim before pushing under the fabric this time, sliding down through your trimmed pubic hair and into your naked, soaked folds.

“Ben!” You call out, grasping that strong forearm again, biting your lip and staring into his fiery gaze.

“What do you need?” he questions. It’s the first time anyone has ever asked you that in bed.

“You,” you reply honestly.

“You have me, 110% you have me,” he asserts in a tone that melts something in your chest. “As if you don't know it, you’ve had me for many years,” he admits as his hand slides lower. You cry out as he pushes two fingers just a fraction inside you.

“Fuck, you are on fire,” he exclaims, a shaky exhale across your lips.

“Only for you,” you answer, knowing you’ve never been this turned on before in your life.

He growls, actually growls. And then his lips are back on yours in the most potent kiss yet. You pulse around him and groan into his mouth as he sinks his fingers deeper. When the kiss ends, you glance down your body, seeing the stiff peaks of your nipples poking insistently through the lace and his sinewy forearm buried into your pyjama bottoms.

“Do you like what you see?” his voice a velvety tease.

“I’d like it even more if we were naked,” you respond honestly.

He chuckles at that, and his lips descend, dropping light kisses down your neck as his fingers tease you, surging in and out of your body so achingly slow. His thumb rests on your clit, a little nudge of pressure every time his fingers rock into your channel.

“I need to make you come like I need air,” he confesses, his voice resonant, his warm breath skittering over the sensitive skin of your throat. It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“Please do…” it’s a quiet plea.

You feel the curve of his cheek as he smiles, and the fingers inside you flex.

“I suppose if you’d like to be more naked, then I’d better strip you down first,” he remarks, gently withdrawing his fingers.

Warm hands hook into your underwear, and he scooches away, pulling them down your legs, taking your PJs with them. Suddenly, the image that flashed in your mind earlier becomes a reality, his stubbly chin grazing your belly as he crawls back over you.

“You look amazing,” he sighs over your belly button and leans his forehead on your stomach as he takes a deep breath. “You smell it too.”

He runs his nose and lips over your skin as he surges up and nuzzles your bra, pleading with his eyes for you to remove it as he pulls the straps down over your arms, kissing along the lacy cup edge.

When his lips wrap around one of your nipples, you grab his hair and push up against him, the swoop of sensation in your belly like riding a rollercoaster, the thrill tingling along the back of your scalp.

He moves to lay beside you, and you watch the duvet move as he strips off his bottoms under it. Suddenly there is a thick wave of body heat as he rolls next to you; you feel something sizeable and solid brand your hip.

“Oh, Ben,” slips out on instinct, but he stops your questing hand.

“Not yet,” he shakes his head and smirks at your corresponding pout. “When you have come, preferably screaming, then you can touch my cock. Okay?”

You physically feel the shiver down your spine at that line. Who even says things like that?

He smiles against your temple as he slips his fingers back into you, and you moan at the sensation. He curls his body around you, legs twining around your right one to hold you open. That cock is still rigid on your hip; it feels sizeable and delicious.

“Tell me what you like,” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing a circle over your clit his fingers stroking in a come hither motion.

“This… exactly what you are doing,” you reply breathlessly, “just please don't stop and maybe go a little harder?” you request timidly.

He smirks and pushes his fingers deeper; his motions get stronger and faster. You close your eyes and nod, licking your lips.

“Yes, that oh god Ben, thattttt,” you stumble as his magical fingers spiral you higher.

When they jab a spot inside, a bloom of pleasure hits you, and your eyes fly open, going wide.

“Oh, that’s the spot,” he preens, redoubling his efforts as you start to pant loudly, clinging to his arm and whining his name—the hot and intense pleasure building remarkably fast.

“That’s it come on,” he encourages, whispering into your hairline right above your ear; his tone is both soothing and achingly filthy.

“Ben… I,” your words morph into needy noises, drunk on the sensations rippling through your body, fanning out from his fingers buried inside you.

“Yes, yes,” he hisses, “you’re close now; I can feel it. Look at me,” he orders.

And you do. Mouth hanging open, squirming on his fingers, feeling something primal washing over you. His eyes burn into yours.

“Don’t fight it,” he warns.

It's almost like permission; you feel something inside you give way. You scream loudly as a tide of orgasm washes over you. Blood rushes in your ears, and you feel his leg bear down over the apex of your thigh, holding your pelvis onto the bed as you cry and convulse. Your body fights his fingers, trying to push them out as your whole channel clenches in strong waves.

After a few moments of deep breaths, you open your eyes, and he kisses your cheek, then your lips.

“Wow… that was…. absolutely amazing,” he confides, kissing more. “And it's a damn good thing no one can hear us here. You scream like a horror movie queen, and I mean that with all the very best compliments.”

You laugh a little abashed and bury your face into his armpit, loving the smell of his deodorant and just him.

“Your turn,” you mumble, deciding to be bold and snake a hand down your side to grab his cock at your hip.

It’s large and thick enough your fingers don’t quite meet when you wrap around it. It makes your insides melt at the thought of how it would feel sliding into you. He makes the neediest huffing noises as you twist onto your side to face him and begin an unhurried rhythm, watching that pretty cock twitch in your hand.

You tease him with a gentle twisting motion, squeezing a little as you reach his head, swiping a thumb over the bead of precum that appears, gently massaging his frenulum as he lets out a faint moan. His hand covers yours, stilling your movements.

“This is so wonderful, but I need you to stop if you want sex. Do you want to… have sex?” he asks so demurely your heart clenches.

“Yes, Ben, please,” you whisper.

“I didn't bring any condoms with me,” he says quietly, “I didn't think I’d meet another soul up here, let alone well…” he trails off, pitching forward, so his lips are warm on your cheek.

“I didn't either, but I'm on the Pill,” you shrug. You've never had first-time sex without a condom, but this man isn't a stranger; he's a lifelong friend, and you trust him with your life.

“I know,” he says softly, kissing your nose.

“Wait, how do you know that?” your brow knitting lightly.

“I know everything about you,” he asserts against your skin, staring into your eyes. “How you take your tea - English breakfast before 2pm, Earl Grey after, both with milk and one sugar. I know how the tip of your tongue here,” he softly trails his nose over the corner of your mouth, “sticks out of your mouth when you type on your laptop. I know you always loop your glasses into the neckline of your top,” a finger tracing gently over the swell of your breast, “and somehow always forget they are there and have a ten-second panic every time.” He laughs gently. “I even know how you prefer plain Hobnobs over chocolate; I have no idea why, and you are so wrong on that, by the way,” he shoots you a devastating lopsided grin. “And I know you are on the Pill because I've watched you take them religiously for years; when I stay at yours, and you make coffee in the morning, it’s the first thing you take before your multivitamin.”

His casual recounting of so many little, human things that make you, you, astounds you. This man knows you better than you know yourself, and you get a weird swooping sensation in your chest. Of elation that you've finally figured it out, he might just be the one - your human, but also a crushing regret you haven't done so sooner. You could have been doing this, intimately entwined with this wonderful, thoughtful, sensitive, handsome man, for so many years.

Not wanting to waste any more opportunity and so very desperate to have him inside you, you use all your strength to roll him onto his back and climb on top. Surprised and aroused, he looks up at you devotedly, his pupils blown wide.

Silently and without breaking eye contact, you reach between your bodies, line up his weeping beautiful cock, and sink onto him without another thought. The needy noise he makes is like poetry.

He feels perfect, and you close your eyes to revel in being stretched around him, a solid hot presence filling you up and holding you so open. Just the perfect length and girth for you, almost like his cock was made for you.

Warm hands grasp your hips, and your eyes fly open and look down at him, his expression pleading with you to move. Gradually you rise up, then drop down just once, savouring the sensations as he drags against your walls.

“You feel perfect,” he groans “please….”

You know what he is asking, begging for - more. Something in you wants to draw this out, go so achingly slow both of you get mindless. Luxuriate in this carnal, sensual meeting.

“Talk to me,” you implore, starting a leisurely pace.

“What about?” you watch him glance down between your bodies, watching his cock disappear into you as you sink down.

“Talk to me, Ben,” you repeat but pointedly, grabbing his chin to look at you and raising an eyebrow.

There's a lightbulb of understanding behind his eyes, and that killer crooked smile spreads across his face.

“You like my voice, don't you?” he says, pitched low, and you bite your lip, grabbing his hands as leverage for your movements.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, gasping as the pleasure grows between your legs just as he says those few words.

“I know,” he smirks, “I’ve known for years.”

You look at him in surprise. “Wait, how?” you breathe, disbelieving.

He grabs your shoulders and pulls you down on top of him: so much heat and warm flesh.

“I have noticed your pupils dilate every time I drop my voice just like this,” he murmurs low and sinful into your ear. “The temptation to say so many dirty things has been so strong. God, I love it when you are aroused, and you think you can hide it. I knew you were getting wet; it would take all my willpower not to grab and kiss you senselessly. Especially those days when you are only in a little floaty skirt, I could actually smell it. Delicious and sweet and so fucking sexy. That little squirm you would do. How you move your body is fucking sinful. And now I get to enjoy it. You riding me like this. Fuck, if this isn't every fantasy I've ever had coming true.”

By the time his filthy soliloquy is done, you are panting hard, not from the exertion as you rock on him but the way he has pushed you so close to orgasm with so little effort - just his voice and words.

“Ben,” you shudder, “I….” words fail as you feel your body flush.

“I can feel you are fluttering. Are you going to come so soon?” he exhales, impressed. “Oh god, please, please do it,” he urges. “I need to feel it.”

You sit up and reach down to touch your clit, and he swears at the sight. You are tipping over the edge, stilling your movement as you sit with him at your hilt and clench around him. He feels impossibly huge inside you, twitching and pulsing.

“Fuckkkkkkkk,” he groans long and loud, clenching his teeth. You know he is also fighting the urge to come, wanting this to last much longer.

Greedy for more, for another stronger climax, you go to move again, but he stops you.

“Please don't move, not yet,” he pleads, grabbing your hips and quelling your movement. “I need… a few moments, please.”

You smile down at him indulgently and link your hands again, bringing the back of his hand to your mouth and kissing it delicately. Then to be a tease, you envelop his middle finger in your mouth, running your tongue over it, tasting his tangy skin. He growls as you add his pointer finger and suck hard, staring down at him heatedly.

“This isn't really helping,” he warns reluctantly with a playful pout.

You let his fingers slip out of your mouth and guide his hand to your breasts, pressing his now-damp fingers against your nipple. He enthusiastically grips your flesh, and you throw your head back and moan as he teases your sensitive buds, pinching them between his fingertips. You gyrate your hips, dragging his tip against your cervix.

There is another growl, and suddenly you are tipped over onto the mattress, him still buried inside you. He grabs your legs and loops his arms under them, pulling your body so open under him.

“Hold onto me… twine your arms around me,” he instructs.

You do, fingers digging into his smooth, muscular torso. Panting in anticipation; at the feel of him holding you down, his pelvis crushed against your engorged clit.

He begins to move, and you can't help but make noises; he just overwhelms all your senses. His kisses, his skin, his arms, your legs held high and wide. He is almost delicate in his motion, but you can tell he is holding back.

“Don't be too gentle, Ben,” you beg, bringing one hand up to cup his jaw and running your thumb over his bottom lip. “Please just fuck me.”

His mouth captures your thumb, and you gasp as he spears into you hard. You hiss your approval as he crowds over you to kiss you fiercely. Then everything is a haze as your mind switches off, and you are rooted in your body, chasing sensation as he takes you hard. He feels so hot and rigid, pounding into you as you lay under him, pinned and almost helpless to this onslaught but wanting nothing more than being right where you are. For a first time together, it’s not awkward or timid; it's exciting and mindblowing but somehow still safe, knowing you can trust him with everything, including your body.

Between kisses, there are whispered encouragements against lips and hands grasping so tight to each other as movements become more frantic and fast. He is hitting your clit on each stroke and panting, so present in the moment, eyes boring into yours. You know he is so close, hanging by a thread when he screws his eyes shut and pleads with you to come with him. A few more strokes and it is happening, your orgasm hitting you hard and breaking over your body in waves, fanning out from your core as you clench around him, making your muscles spasm and your toes curl. You feel him coming hard, too, a warm bloom inside you as he jerks a few heavy thrusts, then stills, mouth open over yours and huffing gulps of air as he twitches.

After a few moments of deep breaths and slumped limbs, he pulls his face up to kiss you tenderly.

“Wow,” he breathes, and you giggle and nod your head. “Why haven't we been doing that for the last god knows how many years?” he shakes his head, his voice a little ragged and rough-edged.

“I don't know, but we should be doing a lot more of it,” you respond brightly, “make up for lost time?”

He laughs warmly and agrees, taking his weight off you and rolling and rearranging your bodies so you are both on your sides, facing each other, hands laced together, noses touching. And that is how you fall asleep.

—

You awaken to dazzling sunlight streaming in, reflecting off all the snow. You wince against the brightness and clamp your eyes shut, burrowing back into Benedict. You feel surrounded, in the best sense of the word. He is a warm solid presence behind your back, an arm slung around the dip of your waist, a hand curled around your breast, legs entangled, downy hair tickling your calves. And best of all, a hard cock nestles the back of your thighs. You flex your hips and shuffle until his tip is poised right at your entrance. He stirs, and there is a hot exhale on the back of your neck.

“Get inside me, please,” you petition quietly, voice scratchy from sleep.

Wordlessly, he rolls his hips, surging into your body in one swift stroke. You moan so loudly that he huffs a laugh, then stills, buried inside you.

“Now go back to sleep,” he grumbles affectionately, arm pulling you into him tighter, your whole body flush to his, curling his legs up so you are almost in the fetal position.

“Like this?!” your tone incredulous, as his fingernails trace an idle ellipsis around your areola.

“Mmm hmmm,” his hum vibrates into your spine.

“Bennnn…” you protest, clenching around him, so he groans deeply.

“I promise to fuck you so hard you forget your name… later, if you let me sleep just a little more,” he proposes, nuzzling your hair.

What a lovely thought. You lay still in his arms for a few minutes, but his cock holding you open is far too distracting.

“Bennn…” you try again.

“Shhhhh…” he reacts, but you can tell he's not sleepy anymore; there is a smile on the nape of your neck.

“You feel too good; I can’t sleep,” you whine, slightly petulant.

“You’re not even trying,” he chuckles richly.

“You can't do this to me,” you wheedle, your breath hitching triumphantly as he tilts his pelvis and slips a fraction deeper.

“If I fuck you right now, will you stop complaining?” his tone laced with amusement.

“Hmmm, maybe,” you shoot back, twisting to glance at him over your shoulder, seeing his eyes dancing with mirth.

Your lips meet, and it's a breathy passionate kiss, all open mouths and tongues, teasing each other and fighting for dominance.

As your mouths dance, he starts to move at a languid pace, just rocking into your body gently, and it’s the best wake-up you have ever had. You cover his hand on your breast, and he intuits what you are asking, squeezing the swell, your nipple snagged between his middle and pointer finger. You break the kiss, and his teeth gently skim the cord on your neck as he speeds up a little.

“Will you wake me up like this every day, please?” you sigh, not thinking about the implications of your words, just drunk on the sensation.

“Happily,” he rumbles and spears a little stronger, making you call out his name.

“The sound I really want to wake up to though….” his voice teasing and low. “is this one…” and his hand slips from your breast to between your legs.

You moan and writhe in his strong hold, little sparks of pleasure firing where he touches.

“That’s it, that’s the sound,” he encourages as you both move together in sync.

It’s a wonderfully sensual experience, growing in intensity until he rolls you over onto your front, still inside you, fucking into you from behind, covering your entire body with his. His hand is trapped between your body and the mattress while teasing your clit.

“Oh god, Ben,” you cry as he seems to slide deeper than ever, your thigh trapped shut together, his legs bracketing yours, using all his effort to drive into you, the tone shifting from languid to vigorous. You’ve never been taken in this position before, and at this angle, he is hitting all the right spots inside you to make your eyes roll back and bite the pillow.

It hurtles you fast, beginning to pant raggedly, and you urge him on, asking for more and harder, and he obliges, thrusting so strong your whole body rolls and the bed squeaks loudly in protest. Your voice becomes one long moaning sound; you are pushing back onto his cock as much as possible, a chorus of please don't stop as he drives you fast towards a climax. His body is bowed, breathing hot puffs of air across your upper back, with an occasional kiss, his lips soft and wet.

He holds you on a precipice for a moment; you crane to look back at his face pleadingly; his expression is wild and so gorgeous it catches your breath.

“You are magnificent,” he rasps against your skin.

Then the hand not on your clit suddenly spanks your butt cheek while his teeth sink into the top of your trapezius muscle, pushing you over the edge, calling his name as you pulsate hard around him. Him grunting and thrusting deeper, fighting your clenching muscles. Then he stills, and every muscle tenses as he empties into your body, almost shaking from the intensity.

He collapses onto your back, breathing in wracked sounds.

“Fucking hell,” you both say almost in unison, then giggle at your matching assessment of the experience.

He pulls out of you reluctantly and flops down onto the mattress to your left, wrapping an arm around you and manoeuvring so are the little spoon once again.

“That was intense,” he voices, and you make a noise of agreement, lacing your fingers with his and holding your joined hands up, watching his fingers sink between yours and curve over, his fingertips resting on your palm.

“We are awesome at sex,” you opine. Benedict chuckles at that, hooking his chin over your shoulder. “And you know what that means?”

“What?” his tone lilting.

“We just have to keep doing it all the time,” you observe with a mock, burdened sigh.

“What a terrible hardship for us,” he concurs with an ironic laugh, nuzzling your neck with a grin on his face. __

Half an hour later, you have showered together - which proved almost as distracting as morning sex until the hot water tank ran out, and you jumped out squealing as the water turned ice cold - and are now leisurely making brunch. You both only wear towelling robes you stole from your Glasgow hotel room, the fireplace roaring again. You agree to go for a walk in the snow later, neither of you mentioning booking your flight home.

“Wait, why is this sofa so bloody uncomfortable” you bemoan, taking a sip of coffee and flicking idly through a book you took from a shelf. “I don't remember it being this bad last night,” you ponder aloud.

“Well, you had had a couple of whiskeys by then,” Benedict points out as he cooks an amazing-smelling breakfast a few feet away in the kitchenette.

“True, but honestly, what is going on with it?” you grumble, putting the book aside, not yet sufficiently caffeinated.

“Sofa beds tend not to be comfortable. As either a sofa or a bed,” he rattles out, flipping a slice of bacon in the pan.

You grind to a halt in your efforts to get comfy.

“Sofa bed…?” You echo out loud.

He suddenly freezes and realises what he has admitted.

“Benedict bloody Bridgerton!!” you exclaim loudly, standing up, “did you trick me into sharing your bed?!?”

He turns around slowly, knowing he is foiled and pulls a sheepish face.

“Yeahhhh, a lil bit…” he admits as you gape at him, attempting his most winning remorseful smile. “But, in my defence…” he adds, waving the spatula, “you are the one who kissed me first. I just stacked the deck; you drew the first card.”

He expertly swerves the cushion you throw at him before flicking off the stove and pushing aside the pan.

“Right…” he charges at you as you squeal.

He corners you with ease in the compact space and throws you over his shoulder.

“We are using this stupid sofa bed right now,” he instructs and, rather attractively, casually flicks a handle on the side with his foot to open it. He practically throws you onto the (admitted thin, rather uncomfortable) bed and tugs open your robe, snaking his way down your body and throwing your legs over his shoulder, shooting you a molten hot gaze from between your thighs.

You have no arguments with this development. None whatsoever.

—

You return to that tiny cottage every year for that same week as a ritual—a little private anniversary. Sometimes you stay through New Year, just the two of you ringing in the entire festive season.

He buys it for you as a wedding gift, and you cry at the sentimentality of the man buying you the place you first got together. (One thing you do early on - buy a new, comfortable sofa.)

It becomes a haven for your lives together, even when you have to bring cots and camp beds for your children, all sleeping communally in that one room. (You don’t tell them, but all of your children are named after characters in an obscure old book he finds hidden in the rafters when you are renovating while pregnant with your firstborn.)

Nothing brings you more joy than when you can escape to that little cottage in the Highlands. You never tell anyone besides your children where it is—it’s your escape, your sanctuary. The “somewhere only we know,” as Benedict always called it.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld

[antimony-medusa]

How TommyInnit Went Viral In A Snowstorm

Ice rasped across the front windows of the McDonalds, just audible over the radio Tubbo had cruelly set to hip-hop with the argument “I’m the supervisor, fuck you, go clean”. Visibility from the storm was so bad he only saw the edge of the parking lot in snatches. Tommy leaned on the counter and watched the swooping patterns made by the snow illuminated in the streetlights.

“Not getting any better out there?” Ranboo said, coming out of the entrance to the kitchen and leaning on the head-lamp-lit delivery station. He put his elbow on hot metal and snatched it back, hissing.  

“It’s getting fucking ah-bys-mal out there,” Tommy said, draping himself over the counter in an attempt to stretch out his back. “I haven’t even seen any plows for like, a year.” His headset chimed and Tommy straightened like he’d been shocked. “Welcome to McDonalds, may I take your order?”

There was no response from the speaker. Tommy and Ranboo looked at the drive-thru monitor, which showed an empty order lane nearly full of drifting snow.

“Probably the wind,” Ranboo said unnecessarily.

“Fuck you, bitch,” Tommy said, going back to leaning over the counter again.

Status: complete, updated 22 July, 6,687 words

Fandom: Dream SMP

Characters: TommyInnit, Tubbo, Ranboo, Philza, Wilbur Soot, Technoblade

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Minimum Wage, Snowed In, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, this is just silliness, Several years of minimum wage food service went into this, but no I have never been snowed in at work before, This is unrepentantly Canadian, sorry about that, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Tommyinnit-Typical levels of swearing

__

Here is my gift for @whatsitzface as a part of @mcytblraufest!

I hope you enjoy my attempt at SBI, Bechtrio, and—well it isn’t a coffee shop, but minimum wage work is pretty similar, right? :D

[insomniactalks]

I just saw your post of Julia, Sofia, and Dara with the camp sign and you mentioned the necklace Sofia/Gina was wearing, saying things look good for Portwell. I’d love to hear you talk about what you think the necklace means.

you said that the pendant was a good sign for portwell in s3 (🤞🤞🤞) but i was a little lost for a second. s2 is already a blur for me- did ej get her the pendant or am i missing smth? 😭

Both these anons asked me the same thing, so I figured I'd answer them t/g! Thank you both for ur asks b/c it gives me the chance to post another analysis. LOL 😅❤

Throughout S2, Gina is seen wearing either a black or white pearl pendant for the majority of the time. I will be including screenshots w/ commentary on this, so adding a read more. 😊

Gina is wearing a white pearl pendant, for the most part, in the first 4 episodes of S2 (2.01-2.04). I'm only including screenshots from episodes 2.03 and 2.04, but you get my point:

During this time in her arc for S2 (2.01-2.04), Gina is still heavily pining after Ricky. In the first 4 episodes, she’s still holding onto the hope that maybe Ricky likes her back. She’s hopeful their similar home lives and the fact they “just get each other” (1.05), as Ricky said, would be enough to act like things are okay b/t them. Maybe things can go back to normal. Maybe they can be friends like they used to be in S1. However, that act soon falls apart as the months go on because she’s slowly realizing things have changed b/t her and Ricky. He’s not being very considerate of her feelings and he’s overall not being a very good friend to her. Both the scenes in the pics above are perfect examples of this. In 2.03, Gina shows up to Ricky’s apartment in need of some advice on missing her mom and being miles away from her. He tries to hear about her problems and offer up a solution ("I think you'll get yours too"), but it doesn't actually make her feel better. Once Nini calls, Ricky and Gina's conversation turns to Ricky's current problem. Gina gives him some advice (about playing his song over the phone for Nini) and gets the hell outta there b/c she feels uncomfortable staying any longer. 😔 But then she gets the chocolates, followed by a text from Ricky. Naturally, she assumes Ricky is thanking her for her advice by giving her chocolates on Valentine's Day. Gina is still holding on to the slight possibility Ricky "wouldn't quit" (2.06) on her too, hence why she's still wearing the white pendant in 2.04. 😭 They can even joke about the chocolates, and I'm pretty sure she fiddles w/ her necklace in that scene, and everything seems okay. BUT, then she hears more about how Ricky feels about Nini, how he's willing to drive thru a snowstorm to tell her he "wishes he was her dream" (granted Big Red speaks for him, but she hears it anyway 🤷🏽‍♀️). 2 weeks later, by 2.05, she's no longer wearing the white pendant, she's got the black pearl on, and it stays that way for a few episodes (2.05 and 2.06 below):

By mid-season, Gina is approaching her lowest point yet, emotionally and mentally. It’s becoming increasingly difficult for her to be around Ricky because she’s still grappling with her feelings for him. In the first half of S2, her and Ricky could still maintain some semblance of their friendship/relationship from S1, considering Nini is away at boarding school. But once Nini comes back, and Gina’s wearing the black pendant, she starts setting boundaries with Ricky in 2.05. Gina’s tired of Ricky ignoring her confession from HSM opening night, using her as a stand-in for Nini to sort out his problems, and him just not being a good friend back.😥 The black pearl pendant, in terms of Gina’s feelings for Ricky at this point in the season, signifies a sort of ‘I’ve given up on hoping you’ll feel the same. I’m tired of waiting around for you. Love is dead. I feel so uncertain and sad about where we stand...’ etc. As far as we know, Gina wears her black pearl pendant for several weeks, maybe even a month. She’s deff wearing it in 2.06 (you know, when she starts to straight up ignore Ricky and we, the audience, finally see what’s been hurting Gina this entire time- cue flashback)😭. The next time we see her donning the white pearl pendant is in 2.08 (when she starts to spend more time with a certain someone!😏):          

As far as I can tell, 2.08 is the first time in weeks Gina chose to wear her white pearl. In the second half of the semester, and the season, Gina's hopeful spirit and outlook on romance comes back to her. She's starting to spend a lot more time with EJ (they're still Team Wonderstudies, co-anchors for the morning news, a choreographer giving advice to a dancer, complete dorky besties during Career Day, just joking w/ each other😂). EJ makes her feel happy, loved, cared for, comfortable, hopeful again. 🥰 That’s what the white pendant represents for Gina at this point in her arc. That’s not to take away from Gina’s friendships with Ashlyn and Carlos b/c they also contribute to Gina’s positive character growth in S2b. I’m just focusing on the meaning of the pendant for Gina in relation to romance in S2. Continuing on that note, the next time the black pearl necklace makes an appearance is 2.09:

In this episode, Gina admits things have changed b/t her and EJ ("Have things been diff b/t me and EJ? A little. But I really don't know what's going on. When you have bad luck in the romance department, it's hard to know when someone's being nice and what's like, a sign.") The reason Gina's wearing the black pendant again is b/c she doesn't know where she stands w/ EJ b/c she got it so wrong before w/ Ricky. She doesn't wanna make the same mistake again, so she's trying to sort out her feelings. Even though she gets the "sign" she was asking for by the end of the episode, Gina still doesn't wanna assume EJ feels the same way about her that she feels about him. 😣 That would explain why she continues to wear the black pearl pendant for the rest of the season (2.10-2.12):

By 2.10, Gina's denying her feelings for EJ (tho everyone else can see wassup 🤣) as a way to protect her own heart. EJ asks her out on a risotto date (for which she is so excited about that she literally skips back to the group!😚) and she happily agrees. In the S2 finale, yes she's still wearing her black necklace b/c it highlights how she feels after and during the miscommunication brought on by Jamie. Thanks to Ashlyn, all of that is soon cleared up, and our Portwell babies get to have their happy ending! 🥰❤

All of that to say, I think Gina wearing her white pearl pendant, the first time since 2.08, in whatever episode Sofia's picture is from in S3, is looking pretty good for us Portwells. Gina and EJ are one convo away from officially dating and now we have her wearing that necklace again? Interesting...😁😉 (Call me delusional but that necklace looks like the white pearl pendant to me🤔🤷🏽‍♀️ Either way, let me enjoy this delusional peace 😅🤗)

[kkoongie]

There was a half deflated charmander balloon aggressively flapping around in the Starbucks drive thru stuck to the ice, and across the street from the Starbucks was a car actively on fire and spilled gasoline. Also the power went out 5 times for multiple hours and I was almost hit by a car. We’re supposed to get a snowstorm now so yeah you could say I had a Day™.

[ishtarsreturn]

The Dead Dad Club by Dana Gabrielle Espinosa

You can find prints of this drawing here: ishtarsreturn.bigcartel.com

*~*~*

I only started processing my dad’s death

11 years after the fact,

I can’t explain why exactly, your brain sort of

goes into this

subterranean state in childhood, submerging

itself beneath the trauma,

buried in the heaviness of the memories

in your head, like a rotting sunken shipwreck,

and

as you get old, you let the flora overgrow,

hope in vain that the pain will let you go if

you just forget it in the depths.

If I simply forgot the sound of

his ghost’s clear voice in my room one night,

or the blowing of his silver whistling,

cleansing our home from beyond the grave,

unbeknownst to us all,

I thought if I told him to just go away,

stop speaking so loudly in his death, that

the wound of it would heal, imperceptible,

not even a scar,

to the human eye,

and I could be normal and hide--

Normal,

meaning, not connected to

what can’t be seen,

not accompanied by a phantasmal protector,

not shrouded in his pearlescent veil, safe from

unseen harms all around,

not purposefully isolated from the ordinary and

the bound.

It took me 11 years to learn this was less of a

hindrance,

and more of a gift, a sacred perspective,

an archetypal membership,

a bridge between forgotten worlds in

this waking Hell.

I speak freely with him now,

acknowledge what he does for me when it

comes around,

witness his secret messages, like,

a colorful moth perched just in my view,

a snowstorm erupting at his grave in the

evening,

a sunny glittering of his face in the rearview

as I’m driving.

I learned to reply to him in his symbolic

language too, that is new,

an abandoned tongue, long repressed,

now expressed,

with my own rituals and lore;

light a candle in the night,

write a poem by its flickering light,

dance and get the heart pumping,

then, quickly now, begin the drumming,

while the sky breaks out into triumphant

trumpeting.

~ * ~ * ~

✨🕊🌨The Dead Dad Club🌨🕊✨Ever since my dad died when I was 9, I would tell people I was part of the “Dead Dad Club.” I noticed as a kid that in lots of fairytales and stories, the main characters often had a dead father. This weirdly became a coping mechanism for me. Little 10, 11, 12 year old me reasoned that, if all these heroic and unique characters I admired had dead fathers, and still went on to have fantastical adventures, met passionate lovers, and accomplished amazing feats, having a dead father couldn’t be THAT bad of a situation. I felt, there’s gotta be some magic to it, or else it wouldn’t be a part of the recipe for so many heroic tales. And I found that magic in my own life, 11 years later, and realized death isn’t the end of the relationship. It’s only a transformation of it, bringing with it supernatural happenings, gifts, and connections💀As we move thru Autumn, the time when the veil is the thinnest, it has this archetypal energy on my mind. Are you or someone you know a member of The Dead Dad Club?🙏🏻✨💙🦋