#but it IS funny how he had long hair and full beard all of a sudden

[bideanfreckles]

the "dean would never wear that!" "yes he would!" debate about his TW finale outfit is funny for many reasons and I too have my opinions but the "yes he would" side using outfits he wore once exclusively as disguise for a hunt as examples that yes he would is even funnier lol

[mellosdrawings]

The Princes

Ten years later. When marrying a Prince turns a Queen and a Servant into actual Royalties.

Because Vil deserves a real crown and Jamil deserves to be treated better.

NOW I'M GONNA RANT ABOUT MY CHARA DESIGNS CHOICES AND ALL THE DISCOVERIES I MADE WHILE LOOKING FOR REFS! If you only care about art and funny doodles, you can scroll down for a handful of slices of life.

(Don't worry if you can't read my notes, I'm repeating myself better right under this)

Leona

-Lion: As you may know, one of my grievances with Leona is how his hair doesn't look like an actual mane despite being a lion. While I don't want to stray too far from the canon design with the usual drawings, that's the occasion for me to have some fun with a future version. Give that lion a beard and voluminous hair!

-Hair: First, get those bangs out of his face. Despite Leona being very confident, he still has bangs covering his scarred eye. I wanted him to finally own the aspects of him that may be scary to others (his UM, his scar, etc). I actually went with bangs framing his face similar to the ones he had during his Overblot. I wasn't sure whether to give him dreadlocks or curly hair, but I ended up choosing the free curls decorated with some atebas and braids so that Vil could have more fun styling them.

-Eye: Thanks @aria-faye for the idea, I decided to have his eye gradually lose its capacities with time. From a headcanon that, while the eye wasn't directly touched by whatever attack scarred him, the process of healing still had an impact on it and he gradually lost sight in his left eye years after years.

-Body: Not giving him a dad bod (yet, maybe in another ten years), but definitely giving him more voluminous yet casual muscles. Practical muscles with a healthy dose of fat and tissues. Also giving him two full sleeves of tattoos because I decided he should have much more than just his lion tattoo.

-Clothes: Went full Maasai dressing and Kenyan fabrics and beadworks. If you're not familiar with it, please go check it out, it's GORGEOUS!! Crown is beadwork too. He also has one Arabic styled foot jewellery.

Jamil

-Hair: My first order was to remove his double-faced hairstyle and also remove his bangs from his eye. Make him confident enough to show his whole face. Unlike Leona and Vil, he doesn't really want a crown though (he still feels weird about becoming royalty) so instead he uses a braid as crown. Also gave him a little goatee because I like facial hair and Jafar has a beard too.

-Body: He grew up! While he didn't quite catch up with Leona and Vil, he is now closer to their sizes than before, sitting at around 180cm. He kept his breakdancer/martial artist lean muscles but developed a bit of shoulders.

-Clothes: Went full Arabic dressing and fabrics (once more, go check the fabrics, they are pieces of arts). I gave him floral motifs instead of his usual fire/snake motifs (though he does have a snake earring and a fangs necklace) to symbolise his rebirth/blooming. Like Leona, he has one piece of jewellery that is beadwork.

Vil

-Hair: Here it was a bit tricky. Considering Vil's work, he likely changes hairstyles a lot, going from long to short for his roles instead of his wants. So I leaned into the little things he could add to his hair despite their constant changes, mostly jewelleries, beadworks and wool decorations he stole from his husbands. He also cares a bit less about them looking perfect and is allowing himself to be more natural. He doesn't have any facial hair (yet), keeping a youthful appearance for as long as he can. In another ten years though, he might start looking more and more like his father, beard included.

-Clothes: For Leona and Jamil's mental states, the three of them most likely started living in Sunset Savanna so they wouldn't freeze to death. Vil is well traveled so he can handle most temperatures without trouble, and he is used to dressing up in the local get ups. Here I decided to give him both African dress and Arabic fabric, and likewise both beadwork and golden jewellery. I gave him crown and heart motifs so he can keep being himself despite borrowing a lot from his husbands.

There, I'm done rambling. Here's some doodles, followed by some random headcanons.

-Vil does his husbands hair every morning and keeps giving them more and more intricate hairstyles. He developed a whole haircare and beard-care products set for them.

-When Vil is away for a movie, Jamil keeps his hair mostly down save for a few accessories.

-Jamil and Falena get along surprisingly well (to Leona's despair). Vil gets along very well with Falena's wife.

-Jamil acts as a Scalding Sands ambassador and still is the one to care for Kalim when he comes to visit, though this time he's doing it because he wants to and not because he has to.

-Vil got used to his new title immediately but Jamil struggles with it a lot. He still has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he is no longer a servant.

-The servants at the palace love Jamil because he always makes their job easier.

-Leona finally decided to put his wits to good use and became Falena's advisor. He still fights a lot with Kifaji about the direction to take with the country, but he managed to make some of his ideas heard to help with the staggering inequalities in the country.

That's all for now!

[tarjapearce]

Old Friend

Summary: You meet an old friend in your shopping trip with the family.

Nothing but a slice of life, fluff, bit of angst and a jealous Miguel ~

Whenever it was restock day, Costco or Walmart would be the main places to go.

You'd get the list, Miguel would secure Rosie to his chest, as Benjamin would get inside your cart. Gabi would walk alongside you or her beloved Papa, pushing his cart.

Each would take separate ways, you'd get the meats and veggies, as Miguel would get the rest, powder detergent, cleansing products, and snacks.

"Mama, can I have these?" Benjamin swayed his feet pointing at the  colorful packaging of dinosaur shaped nuggets.

"Course you can, mi niño. Which one you want?"

"I tried the red one last time, I'll get the purple"

Benji's boyish voice echoed around you as you stopped on the frozen meals section.

"Alright, purple it is."

You picked the purple package, a triceratops and a T-Rex on the cover. Then, filled the cart with different sort of meats, Miguel's favorite cuts, hams and of course, lots of canned jalapeños. Orange, pineapple, and cranberry juice, a couple of sodas and finally you got to go to the cereal and coffee aisle.

Miguel was running out of coffee in his office, and back at home you only had a couple of packages. It reminded you the time Miguel nearly had an anxiety attack when he found out he had ran out of the black liquid gold, even in his secret stash.

For some reason the brand he always bought was put on the top shelves. With a huff you looked around to see if there was any ladder, but upon finding none, You stepped on the bottom shelf, trying to get the six pack in the edge, but obviously, you couldn't reach it.

Benjamin giggled when you missed, as revenge you smothered his face in kisses, earning you a loud and bubbling squeal.

"Here, let me." A deep voice rumbled behind you. Your eyes widened at the all too familiar face before you. Reaching effortlessly for the coffee packaging.

"Richard" you mumbled while taking the package, to then put it on the cart.

"Hey" His hand waved softly. Clad in a hoodie, bermudas and sneakers. A little gold band hugging his ring finger. Dull, as his overall aura.

Despite the years coming through, he hadn't lost his kind green eyes. Some wrinkles adorned his matured face. Ricky was only two years older than you, and still had some white hairs poking out here and there.

He sported a short and well trimmed beard, hair parted and neatly arranged to a side. His eyes darted to the boy that undoubtedly resembled alot like you, except for his curious big and round red-ish eyes.

"Whose this little champ?" The smile on his face was coy, but genuine.

"It's my boy, Benjamin."

A proud beam stretched on your face as your hand caressed Benjamin's head, some of his curls trapping your fingers.

"Nice to meet you, champ." Ricky stretched his hands towards him and Benjamin shook it, a tad nervous.

"He definitely has your curls."

You smiled, eyes diverting behind him, ready to meet his partner but, there was none, just his half cart full of car appliances, some diary products and snacks.

"My goodness, you have a beard now."

Ricky chuckled and scratched it. He was a handsome man, undoubtedly. Good and well worked physique. Lean muscles, athletic and healthy looking. Green eyes a shade darker than green apples, pretty lips you liked biting and a healthy tan on his skin, despite him being a pale guy. A couple of freckles adorned his nose.

"And you've got a kid now." there was a bit of disbelief in his tone.

"Three actually. Funny how we ended up doing the things we always said we wouldn't do right away."

Richard gave a soft laugh.

"At least we look good. And I'm sure you're a great mom. How long has it been?"

"I don't know, I suck at math. But I do know it's more than ten years." You pushed the cart to get the cereals and naturally he helped you to get them. Eyes looking for Miguel in every chance you had.

"How have you been?" He tensed a bit at the question, not expecting your openness to talking so casually, specially when your finger shone with a golden band. He graduated college and never saw you again, until now. Gentle and caring as always. You hadn't changed, and he was glad.

"As usual. Existing, trying to keep myself afloat after, uh... my divorce." His mouth pressed in a tight line, green eyes looked away for a second, unable to meet your stare. Ashamed.

Your eyes blinked at his reply. Clearly surprised by such thing. Face falling with worry. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Richard shook his head, and gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Things happen. It's one of those situations that get your eyes open for good." Ricky rubbed his neck awkwardly and you offered a little reassure with a hand on his shoulder, patting it softly.

"Hey, you've got this. I know it's been a while, but I'm sure your problem solving skills are still top notch."

Hw chuckled, almost sympathetic at himself, "I don't even know anymore, if I'm honest. But if you say so."

The voices in the aisles kept indistinct, each in their own world, mingling with the upbeat background music.

"Also... I'm sorry." His eyes remained on yours. Something he'd always do when speaking truthfully.

Your brow quirked, "Whatever for?"

Ricky's hands squeezed the insides of his pockets as he spoke.

"For breaking up with you. Specially like that. It was a d-" He caught his tongue before continuing with the french before Benjamin, "It was wrong of me."

You could only stare at him, and he recoiled further in his spot, shoulders hunched, eyes on the floor.

"If something's worth saying, I... divorced cause my mom also ruined it for me."

You frowned, confused and he shook his head.

"So I cut ties, went to therapy and yeah." He reached out for a three pack of granola for himself, and another for you after you pointed at the brand.

"I'm sorry, I'm kind of confused as to why would you think I'd be happy to know something awful happened to you, Richard?"

Richard's brow puckered. You really hadn't changed at all. Even after he dumped you a few days before Christmas eve.

"I... don't know? Thought you'd hold a grudge for what I did."

"A grudge?" You tittered and this threw him off guard, "Not to sound mean or anything, but I didn't even remember what had happened until now. You know I'm forgetful."

You both chuckled as he nodded.

"Yeah, kinda wondered if you'd lose your head too if it wasn't attached to your body."

You gasped while mocking offense, "That was rude."

You grabbed a couple of cereal boxes Benjamin pointed at.

"But true. In all seriousness, I'm glad that at least something great came after me. Is he a good man?, wait..." He shook his head softly, "Stupid question Of course he is, you married him."

You beamed and this made his chest swell in a mix of happiness and pride. You deserved it after all he also put you through.

"You'll find someone, I know so." It always made him wondered why he was stupid like that to allow his mother come in between.

"I'll give myself a couple of years to heal first. Wanna make sure I don't repeat things over."

It was your turn to get that pride sensation in your chest. Knowing he was making a good progress out of his mother's shadow also made you happy. You out of everyone knew how hard it was like.

"Hope they're ready to listen country music nonstop in your car." He rolled his eyes.

"I know you hated the genre, that's why I always played them"

Your lips pursed with faked anger as he tittered, however, Ricky cleared his throat off the laughing upon watching a behemoth of a man, approaching from behind. Red eyes set on him. A shudder crawled on his skin as he gulped. The baby on his chest did little to appease the intimidating aura around him.

"Mama!" Gabi came to you with an excited face as she showed you her new acquisition. A purple and glittery cover for her phone.

"Qué lindo! Do they have it in blue too?" (How cute!)

"Nah, it was the last one, Papa said this would match with my room too."

Said Papa hugged you from behind, and kissed your temple, red eyes never left him. Ricky gave Miguel a polite smile as he backed away a few steps. Miguel's strong features only turned sharper. It would be a lie to say if Ricky wasn't surprised and intimidated.

Surprised cause you hugged Miguel's narrow waist, a pleased and proud purr emanated from his chest. Loud enough for only you to hear it.

The man before him screamed danger a mile ago. But also, explained lots of things. Like Benjamin's eyes.

"Richard, this is my husband. Miguel O'Hara."

Ricky hesitated for a second, but stretched his hands towards him, big tan hands easily enveloped his in a firm shake.

"Nice to meet you." His nervous smile was like fuel to your husband's ego.

Miguel acknowledged him with a brief nod, eyes not tearing away from him. A quiet She's mine in his eyes.

"Richard and I used to go at the same college. Oh! This is my eldest daughter, Gabriella. And my youngest baby, Rosie."

Gabi smiled politely while holding onto Miguel's hips.

"You have a beautiful family." His green eyes stared at an ever curious Rosie that gazed back at him. Miguel's shoulder's tensed when Rosie gave Ricky a smile.

"Thanks, You'll be fine though. Things take time, but, It all comes together somehow. Just be patient. I'm glad you're doing good on your own." Again, you patted his shoulder, he just gave you a small but genuine smile. Miguel's guts churned as his jaw clenched.

Ricky left after saying his goodbyes, not wanting to impose his presence any further.

"Gabibi, mi amor, can you get the food cart to the line, please?"

"Okay. Don't take too long, please?"

Gabriella took the cart as Benjamin showed her his nuggets, leaving you and Miguel with Rosie alone.

"Alright, interrogation can start now." You chuckled and Miguel pulled you by your waist towards him, ebbing you to walk a few steps before giving a firm slap on your rear.

"Miguel!" you hushed, flustered while looking around to see of there were people and he smirked.

"Wanted to do that before that guy, but that wouldn't be too polite of me, wouldn't it?"

You kissed his cheek, but he quickly corrected the place and pecked your lips.

"That's better. Who was he anyway?"

"My ex from college."

He just hummed and it was your turn to return the squeeze, he chuckled, "Relax. He just got divorced and obviously not having a good time."

"Too bad." He shrugged, a bit nonchalant and you deadpanned.

"Don't be mean. You were scaring him on purpose."

"Obvio. Still, forgot to thank him." (Obviously)

You chuckled as you approached to the line, Gabi waved at you both.

"Thank him?"

"Well, he let you go, and I wouldn't have met you in the first place. So thanks to that."

"Well, he's there on the other line, go tell him."

You teased, but to your surprise Miguel stepped away from the beeline and was walking towards Richard.

"W-Wait! Miguel!" You had skip a few steps to catch him and pull him back to spot, he smirked while pulling you tighter towards him.

"Don't tempt me, mi reina."

"God, I swear. You're-"

"Your husband, mi amor." He smirked, satisfied at his own title in your life.

"A jealous one."

He leaned to your ear and whispered, "Espérate que lleguemos a casa. No te la vas a acabar conmigo, mi reina." (Wait till we get home. You'll see what's up.)

Gabriella rolled her eyes at the flirty atmosphere around you and covered Benjamin's eyes.

"You're too young to see that."

[lokis-army-77]

Live from Hawkins

Older!Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Eddie watched as you are stood up on a date and without a second thought, he brings you home.

Warning: 18+. Eddie is in his late 50s to early 60s, reader is 20s to early 30s. p in v, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, pet names, a few spanks, fingering, mention of a partner having died.

A/n: Thank you @munson-blurbs for hyping me up to write this and for thinking of the funny little thing that happens at the end hehe, I love you <3 also my version older!eddie is inspired by @ farmerusedto on tiktok and Instagram.

Masterlist  Part 2

The fun of nightlife had escaped Eddie when his biological clock started making him go to bed at 8:30 p.m. instead of 2 a.m., but tonight was an exception. After an extraordinarily shitty day, he thought a drink or two at his old haunt would cheer him up. It didn’t, not entirely. The whisky he had been nursing tasted like shit and the crowd in the bar left little to be desired, except for you. 

Eddie had clocked you when you entered the establishment at eight on the dot. His eyes raked over the pretty silky red dress that stuck to the curves of your body as you made your way to a tiny circular table with two chairs and sat down. Your head was held high as you watched the front door. 

Ah, a date, He thought. Then he began thinking about all the dates he had been on in the long past years until he had met his wife, and then the lack thereof after her passing twenty-some years ago. He’s never had time to date. Raising kids two kids as a single dad while also being a simi-successful musician turned producer, looking for romance added a whole new thing to worry about so he just didn’t, but now, in his later years of life, with his children grown and moved out, he could afford the chance to indulge. Sadly though, you were apparently taken. 

Even after he had finished his one glass of alcohol, he waited. Watching you as your posture slowly became slouched, you sipped on some fancy beverage, and your head stopped peaking up when the bell to the door chimed as it was opened and closed. You were beautiful and didn’t deserve to be stood up.

When the clock struck nine, Eddie stretched his aching joints and stood from the bar. Sauntering his way over to your tiny table.

“This seat taken?” He asked, hand resting on the back of the chair. 

You lifted your head from your phone startled and shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. You can take it.” Sighing, you look back down at your phone, expecting him to take the lone chair and pull it up to another table. To your surprise, he actually sat down in front of you. “Um… can I help you?” 

“Sorry, I just saw you sitting here by yourself for a while and thought you might like the company. A pretty girl like you in a pretty dress like that shouldn’t be sitting alone in a bar like this, some weirdo could show up.”

You blush, almost as red as your dress. “And how do I know you aren’t the weirdo?” 

“Good question. You don’t.” He laughed.

The deep timber of it had your stomach flipping. His facial features were hidden under a nicely kept beard, full of salt and pepper hairs, more salt than anything else. The shaggy, slightly curly hair atop his head looked the same. He was definitely older than you by a couple of decades, but hey he was nice looking and obviously, the guy you were supposed to be seeing wasn’t coming. What harm could come from flirting with this guy?

“But hey, a bit of mystery can be a good thing, don’t you think?” He asks. 

You can't help the giggle that passes your lips. “Oh, really?” You look him up and down. His outfit was something reminiscent of the eighties, only more subdued. Tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, and an Iron Maiden shirt that had been ripped at the hem. Before he had sat down you even spotted a black and white skull bandana in his back pocket. “I’ve heard that with age comes wisdom. Are you here to enlighten me then?”

He lets out a more hearty laugh this time, his head falling back. Your eyes scan the contours of his neck and watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down. “I don’t know about wisdom, but I do have a few decades under my belt. Maybe I was the one hoping to learn a little thing or two from such a charming young lady as yourself. 

Your hand lifts to cover your smile and you look away almost bashfully. “Such a smooth talker aren’t you?” 

“As smooth as I can be…” He leans forward, hand resting on the table, fingers laced together. You see the many rings decorating them. The flip in your stomach drops and you clench your thighs together. “Why? Is my charm winning you over?”

“So that’s what you’re trying to do, huh?” You smile. 

“Well, it was either that or all the vintage dad jokes I know.” He smiles back. 

You can feel your mood being lifted from the once sour thing that it was into something more bubbly as you listen to him. “Vintage dad jokes? Sound’s intriguing. Maybe I’ll stick around for now.” 

He nods. “That’s a good choice Sweetheart. Who could resist the allure of outdated humor and a bit of gray hair?” His hand tugs at his beard. 

“You know, I could be out having an adventure with the guy I was supposed to be meeting here instead of chatting with a silver fox.” There is a permanent grin etched into your face as he gasps in faux offense. 

“You wound me, Sugar.  Isn’t it usually the unexpected adventures that turn into something unforgettable?” Eddie couldn’t lie to himself, he was laying it on pretty thick, but it was all in hopes that maybe, just maybe you might come home with him. 

“Well, I do have to admit you are intriguing, maybe I’ll take you up on this adventure.” It was childish, the way your heel-clad foot slid its way past the single, center leg of the table and halfway up the man’s calf. 

When he feels your foot rubbing on him, he has to steel his face. One of his hands slipped from the table and slithered its way down his leg and caught your foot. “What do you say we get out of here?” His hands were so big and his fingers so long that they wrapped with ease around your ankle. The pads of his fingers pressed in gently and you hoped he couldn’t feel how fast your pulse were thumping throughout your body. 

Your mouth suddenly turned dry, words evaded you. All you could do was nod in response. He let go of your foot and stood, reaching out his hand. You take it and he pulls you up as well. “My name’s Eddie by the way.” 

…

The drive to Eddie’s suburban home was filled with chase touches and lingering hands. His large palm warmed your thigh, his fingers dug into the plushness there. You cozied up to him, lips trailing up his neck to his ear where you nibbled on the lobe. 

Eddie groaned as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat when you inched a delicate hand into his lap. 

“Now, little girl, don’t be starting something you can’t finish.” He chided. His hand on your thigh moved ever closer to the already high hem of your dress. 

“Little girl?” you whisper into his ear. “I’m not a little girl, old man.”

You feel every bump and jerk of his 1960s Ford pickup as he practically jumps the curb and slams the brakes in his driveway, screeching to a halt. Eddie unfastened his seatbelt and turned to you. His hand immediately found purchase on the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and his beard tickled. You giggled into the kiss but that was cut short when they turned to gasps as soon as Eddie caressed his tongue into your mouth. 

“Eddie…” You moan into him, fingers latched onto his shirt, pulling him into you. 

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He pulled away from the kiss. 

You looked him in his eyes, the street lamp outside aiding in deepening their already dark hue. “Touch me. Need you to touch me.” 

He smirked. “Alright baby, I’ll touch you.” 

Then, he backed away, hooking you from himself and slipping out the door. A pout worked its way onto your features as he walked around and opened your door. Tisking he shook his head. “What’s the frown for sugar?” 

You took his outstretched hand, he was ever the gentleman. “You stopped kissing me.” 

Leaning down he gave you a sloppy peck on the lips. “Well, I can't touch you how you want, Sweetheart, unless we go inside.” He chortled as he guided you to his front door. As soon as the lock was undone and the knob twisted, you pushed the two of you inside. You were hot and worked up and needed something to help the pounding ache that had made itself known between your thighs. 

Inside, you try your best to tug Eddie’s shirt up and over his head but he is quick to catch your hands, pushing you back against the wall and holding them above your head. 

“Not so fast. You’ve got to ask for the things that you want.” 

You shake your head in defiance. You knew where this was going from the way he gripped your wrists. From the way his voice became stricter, more dominant. Need pools in the pit of your stomach. This was what you had been craving, what no other man could make you feel. 

“Please.” Your plea comes out just above a whisper. 

“Tsk, Sweetheart, I think you can do better than that.” Eddie maneuvers both your wrists into the hold of one hand while he lets the fingers of his other run down the open skin of your neck tantalizingly slowly. Goosebumps begin to prickle on your skin as the fingers wander down your chest and over the tops of your breasts, cleavage on display, heaving as you take sharp breaths of air. 

“Please, Eddie.” Voice cracking. “Please, I want you. I want you to touch me, I want to feel you.” 

He groans, hips pressing you to the wall harder. “What a good girl you are.” He captures your lips in another heated kiss.

The night had barely begun and you already felt like you were drowning in him. The scent of menthol cigarettes, whisky, and something almost woody filled your nose and all you could think of was the man pinning you to the wall.

A staggered gasp caught in your throat when Eddie dropped your wrists and heaved you up by the waist. Your legs cinched around him and his arms held you close. “Why don’t we take this to my room? I can put some nice mood music on.” He kissed up your neck as he carried you through his home. 

“Mood music, hum?” You whimper when he sucks on a sensitive spot. “What, gonna play the Temptations greatest hits? Or how about the Chordettes? Don’t they have that song with your name in it?” 

You yelp when his hand smacks your ass. “M’not that old, Sweetheart. It’s more like eighties rock ballads but that’s not what I’m choosing.” The smirk that contoured his lips was wicked. 

“Mmm, and how old are you?” You ask, words muffled by your lips meeting his. 

“Old enough.” Eddie pushes his door open and it hits the wall with a thud. He walks to his bed in the darkness and practically throws you on top of the sheets. He doesn’t follow, instead, he flips the bedside lamp on and the room fills with a soft yellow light. 

His room isn’t what you thought it would be. It's all dark colors, blacks and grays. Three electric guitars hang like decorations on the wall in front of you. A few picture frames are scattered over the dresser to your left, too far to see the images clearly in the dim light. You watch him like a hawk as he walks to that very dresser and turns on a speaker. 

He really wasn’t kidding about the mood music. You think. 

“Get comfortable Sugar… Just got to figure out this damn phone.” You chuckle as you watch him fiddle with the touchscreen and cheer when the music fills the silence. You laugh even louder when Eddie fumbles the phone in his hands and drops it to the floor. “Shit.” He bends down to pick it up and when he does he props it against the mirror of the dresser. 

“Is it okay?” You ask, hand covering the giant smile plastered on your face. 

“It’ll live.” He shakes his head. When the giggles die down, he slowly comes toward you, crawling up the bed. The way his hands travel up your bare legs gives you chills. He pries you open gently, your dress hikes up your thighs, and the wetness of your pussy is on full display. 

“Well, aren’t you a naughty girl… No panties?” He asks, hot breath on the inside of your thigh as he nips at the skin. 

You shake your head as you explain. “No, not wearing a bra either. You can see the outline through the dress” 

He grins a devilish grin and slowly teases his way up your thigh. The hot air from his breath caresses your skin white his beard tickles you. He pushes back your dress a little more before looking you in the eyes. “Ready?”

The whine that comes from you is almost unrecognizable, all desperate and needy when his mouth attaches itself to your pretty cunt. Your hand flies to his head, gripping his silky hair between stiff fingers. 

“Fuck. E-Eddie.” You rasp. He hums the vibrations add to the cacophony of pleasurable feelings between your legs. 

Eddie’s tongue rolls along your folds, wetting every inch of skin. The gentle sucks he performs on your clit pull moan after moan from you. Your back arches and your hips push down into the bed. Eddie’s hands push your thighs farther apart, the plush of them pooling through his spread fingers. 

He loves the feel of you. Loves that he can make you writhe under him with just his tongue. His ego is through the roof, having not been this intimate with someone in years. 

It's been all but a few minutes, to you its been hours, Eddie is expertly working you up up up and to the edge. One hand smoothes down your leg and under his chin. You feel the subtle touches of his fingers as they linger around your cunt. His other hand pushes your leg back more, creating more room. You heave a cry when two fingers breach you, stretching you out at a leisurely pace. 

In and out, in and out, in and out he went, fucking you deeply with those long thick fingers of his, covered in rings. The metal soon became warm as they began to be covered in your slickness and his spit that dribbled down to meet them.

With the way his fingers pushed up into your walls, poking the fire in your belly. The ember that it once was, was not a full-on flame. It was wild and hot and needed something more to feed on. 

“Eddie!” You cried, clamping down around him. Body ridged, ready to let go. 

“That’s right baby, say my fucking name.” He pulled back only to reattach to your clit and pump his fingers tenfold. 

His words were tender to the flame, making it rage out of control. “Eddie!” You cried again, wonton moans following as you feel the fire spreading. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you chant like a prayer. 

He’s greedy as he laps up every ounce of your release, you have to push him away gently, too sensitive for him to keep going but the crooked smirk he gives you as he kisses up your body tells you he wants more. 

Your breathing is rapid as you come down. Your legs feel like jello and you’re hot, super hot. The fire in your veins had rekindled and the dress, conforming to your body, was becoming uncomfortable in the heat. 

Eddie can see the way you tug at the garment and gives it a tug of his own. “I hate to see this little number go but I need to see all of you.” He manhandles you onto your stomach, snatching the tiny red zipper and pulling it down to reveal the soft skin of your back. 

His hands rub into your muscles, thumbs catching on knots and smoothing them out. It was intimate, something you had never experienced in a one-night stand. He removed the tiny straps from your shoulders and kneaded until you were sighing contently into his sheets. Lower and lower he went, tugging the fabric with him and eventually taking it off, throwing it into the abyss. Rough fingers squeezed at the fat of your ass. 

Unknowingly, Eddie had bent down, and as he was massaging you bit down playfully on your ass cheek. A weak squeal erupts from your throat. “Eddie, what are you doing?” 

“I can’t help it if you look good enough to eat.” He bites down again and you buck your hips back. A hand quickly smacks down on your ass. “Quit being a brat. First not asking for what you want and now this? What am I going to do with you?”  Condescension drips thickly from his words. 

You wiggle your hips in his grasp. “M’sorry.” 

Another smack. “I’m sorry what?” 

The fire burns brighter with this fuel.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He spanks you a third time. “Try again, baby.”

Your stomach flips. “I’m sorry… Sir.”

He hums in satisfaction. His hands wrap around you and pull you to your knees, ass in the air. With your head buried in the covers, you can only guess what he’s doing by the subtle movements behind you. 

Eddie has taken his shirt off and unzipped his pants. His cock achingly hard and straining against his black boxers. “Gonna fuck this pussy good, baby.” You whimper in response. He shickers, “You like that, Sweetheart? You want my cock in that pretty pussy of yours?” 

“Please,” You mewl, aching to finally have him inside you. The roughness of his hand steadies you as he inches closer. His hard cock on the other hand. He presses it against your folds, the head slipping through easily. You release a shaky breath when he nudges your clit. “Need you inside, please Sir.”

“Gonna give it to you baby,” Eddie replies, pushing into you. His breathing shudders at the warmth surrounding him. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, sucking him in and not letting him go. 

He feels amazing stretching you out. He's bigger than you thought, wider. The tip pushes into your walls as he begins to thrust into you, the most wonderful grunts and growls filling your ears from behind. 

"So fucking tight, Sugar." Eddie fucks into you at a hard brushing pace with stamina you didn't know he had. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there will be visible marks there later but you don't mind. 

You turn your head slightly and look over your shoulder as best you can. Eddie has a wild look in his eye, streaks of gray hair falling into his face. Your eyes catch on the plethora of ink etching his skin. You had seen the ones covering his arms but you couldn't have imagined this. Your mind wandered to what the rest of his body looked like. We're there more pieces yet to be seen or did alabaster skin win out as you go further down his body? The thought of seeing the rest of him has you bouncing your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust with fervor. 

The fire Eddie had lit within you was once again roaring out of control. The way his cock filled you deep has you shaking in delight. 

"More, more, more," you called out to him, fists clamping down onto his sheets so hard it was a wonder you hadn't ripped them. 

“More? Is that what you want?” He patronizes. His right hand moves from your hip and he bends forward, snatching your hair up at the base of your skull. The dull throb that accompanies his tight hold has you wailing. Your stomach flips and flips, pressure building up. You’re going to cum and you tell him as much. 

“Please, keep going Eddie, fuck. Keep going, I’m gonna cum, Sir.” Big blubbery tears have started to streak down your face, once pristine makeup now smeared. 

He pulls on your hair. ‘Don’t cum baby. Wanna watch that pretty face as you cum on my cock.” 

Eddie pulls out of you and it feels like forever until you are flipped onto your back and he inserts himself back inside. The new angle has your legs clamping shut around him and the head of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot which makes you keen into him.

You make eye contact with him, his gaze is feral. He’s looking at you like you’re a buffet laid out for him. His hips rock into you with such force that your body is slowly jerking up the bed. You reach out for him, hands open and close, needing to have him close to you. That fire is still burning within you and it is scorching. 

Eddie leans into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your nails dragging long scratches down his pecks and stomach. He catches one, entwining his fingers with yours and pinning your hand back into the mattress. Another intimate moment that had butterflies erupting alongside your fire. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Wanna cum so bad.” 

He leans down more, pressing a chased kiss on your lips. “Alright Sweet girl, you can cum.” 

When you let go, Eddie can’t help the absolutely hedonistic moan that comes forward. He’s rutting into your constricting cunt like an animal. The look of absolute ecstasy that washes over your face had him fighting off his own release. 

“Where do you want it, Baby? Where do you want my cum?” 

It’s absolutely crazy, the place that comes to mind, but some deep, dark, nefarious place inside you wants it so badly. Craves is. 

Without thinking, brain foggy with a greediness only comparable to the deadly sin itself, you blurt, “Inside.” 

Eddie’s hips stutter and his mind goes blank. Inside? Fuck, She wants it inside. He groans, fighting himself. He shouldn’t but he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. Thoughts of what your pussy would look like leaking his cum have him going ridged, his conscience losing out against a primal need he didn’t know he had. 

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck ah!” He’s a moaning mess when he finally gives in and lets himself cum. 

You can feel his release as a warmth spreads out from your tummy and envelopes you. Eddie falls careful not to let all of his weight squish you. His kisses make you giggle as you try and catch your breath. 

You’re exhausted, warn out in a way you never have been. “Thank you,” you say, kissing him back. He looked at you with soft, round eyes.

“Why are you thanking me, Sweetheart?” 

You sigh, content. “You saved me from a night of wallowing in my self-pity.”

He shakes his head. “Beautiful girl like you deserves to be treated right, that guy’s a bastard.” 

“Tha-” You’re cut off by the loud ringing of his phone, still connected to the speaker.  Eddie cringes at the volume and turns slightly to eye the phone but does not move to get up. It stops ringing a moment after. 

“I think I should get going…” You whisper and give him another kiss. 

“Mmm, you could stay the night. I can take you back to your car tomorrow.” 

You pout at him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Sweetheart, I’m asking you to stay, you aren't imposing on anything.” 

You giggle and go to answer but you are interrupted by his phone ringing again. Eddie says quietly, “What the hell?” before pulling himself out of you. He hesitates a moment, watching as his cum leaks past the puffy, used lips of your cunt, then grabs at his phone. 

‘HARRINGTON’ Is flashing across the screen. 

“What do you want man? I’m in the middle of something.” 

Eddie still has his phone connected to the speaker and the next few sentences make Your smile fall and your face bloom into a heat that could rival the sun. 

“Oh, I know you are. Half the fucking world does you dipshit!” 

“Wow okay Steve, calm down. No need for name-calling.”

“Eddie I swear to god, do you know what you’ve just done?” 

“No…?” Eddie scratches his head, looking at you and shrugging his shoulders. 

“You just fucking broadcasted you having fucking sex LIVE on fucking Facebook!”

[bear-remn]

—shu headcanon's!

hi! I've been thinking a lot lately about the Sakamaki brothers and I came up with some headcanons that maybe you guys can enjoy too, the first one in this series is shu so enjoy! also a little art piece i make during maing this post.

tw: there are some nsfw headcanons!!! if you dont like that content dont read it!

his looks and selfcare

i do think that shuu is very, good looking, shu has that kind of elegant beauty, with his fine face and a straight nose, clearly his eyes are what attract the most attention when you see him for the first time, also shu has a very penetrating and fixed gaze, in addition to the fact that his blue color makes him have a captivating look and sometimes makes people nervous without realizing it, just because of his natural gaze.

even so, shu does not realize how attractive he is, at least not entirely, mostly bc he doesnt take care of his face, like he dont put any cream or special soap on his skin, he is totally the guy that barely wash his face and has a perfect skin.

but i do think that when he wants to, he definetly put sunscreen bc thats what he thinks is makeup for men.

and maybe this is a little... dirty? but i truly belive shu does'nt shower too often, maybe three times a week? or sometimes two, and he does not smell, like too bad, bc he dont sweat for some reason, but does sometimes stink with that smell, when somebody is for too long in a bed... that kind of smell.

and the times he showers he truly takes that shower like if it was his last, ofc is a bubble bath and he puts some candles and music while he just rest in hot water. is shu's private moment with himself. and he loves vanilla and chocolate candles.

and about shaving, he has a happy trail, but cant grow a hole beard, for some reason it just grow under his chin and it bothers him so he shave it right away. and about his body hair it is very thin and not so visible.

talking about skin, something shu needs, is to feel soft things to the touch, like his sheets, he makes his bed all the time and loves the smell of vanila or lavanda the bed has when its recently done, and its the same with his clothes, he needs cotton clothes, if shu feel something that is minimally rough or that makes his skin itchy, he never wears it again or throw it away.

shu does not brush his hair too often, mostly bc its not hard to control and he likes how he looks with messy hair.

i like to think that shu has a wide body, big shoulders and a thick waist, he has a prominent v line, his arms are a little thick too, and his hands are big, but his fingers are more thin and long, as he use to play piano. and he takes care of his nails, doesnt put nail polish but do cuts them and keep them clean.

random stuff

sometimes shu doesnt realize his shirt is inside out, and he realize just when somebody else point it out. but shu dont care.

shu is actually a goosip, so he puts one of his earphones bad just so he can hear what people are talking even if it had nothing to do with him.

and a little secret of him, when shu cant sleep and is alone, he looks at cute/funny (mostly shitpost) videos, memes and photos of animals, shu is totally an animal lover.

on his vacations shu loves to watch a reallity shows, he loves drama of famous people, but ofc shu doesnt talk about this with anyone. and definetly watch them when he eats. not too often tho, it has to be a really good show.

shu has a record collection in his room, next to a wall full of vinyls of his favorite music, he doesn't use them much but enjoys collecting them.

and bc of his childhood he is actually really smart but bc he is miserable and lazy he just dont show it nor in his life or in the academy. and also as a little revenge to his father (who punish him by sending shu to alaska lol).

shu actually dont like human food, he find it boring, but do enjoy eating meat, almost raw, but not too much, bc after that his stomach hurt a little. he does like coffe or hot chocolate sometimes and better when it has milk.

and my favorite little thing about shu, i think shu dont play in consoles, not play station, not xbox, not nintendo, nothing like that. so he only play games in his phone, but not anygame. shu either playes puzzles games or play subway surfers, or both, who knows. and he loves the music of that game, it always stick into his mind when he hears it.

NSFW

so, shus dick... is great, maybe too dirty of me to say but u truly belive that shu has a pretty dick, like maybe more thick than normal, with two prominent veins and heavy balls. and its a little biger than average, probably like 19 cm. i had to say it.

also, i belive shu is a switch, ofc loves to be dominant but also enjoys being dominated, with a limit.

shu loves to tease people in any chance he gets, like, when someone (specially a girl) find out that he likes to hear woman moans as music, he tease them to make them nervous like "what? would you prefer me to just hear you? want me to make you moan? hehe". or when a girl is wearing something too revealing too close to him, like he sees someone underwear or a little peak of her chest shu be such an ass "wanting to show me something? how lewd of a woman you are huh" all of that with his sly smirk.

he flirts in a very... one of a kind, like he teases but also like to make physical contact, at firts he just do it in a way to make the other person nervous but with the time he craves the physical contact, he loves feeling his skin touch another skin, what makes him sleep naked.

shu is more perverted than laito canonically, but i think that shu is more romantic about it, like put passion in it, you can feel the conection with him when having sex. specially bc he loves making eye contact and touch everything he can. he craves to melt into your skin and its really intense. he holds you with possessiveness, hard and intense. almost needy, but shu isnt like quick and fast or desesperate. he is more the kind of sloow and deep, nice and steady. kind of guy.

and bc of his intense desire, he loves foreplay, and best of it, he knows how to do it right, i just know he can read people to know what someone like to make them weak. he also loves kissing, tongue. theeth and lips, he have to kiss at every moment, and if you moan into his mouth he just gets worked up. he would definetly make you grind on his leg while kissing. clearly he does the leg thing, he know things.

shu is a big fan of 69, like he loves to get sofocated while you suck him, and he does it right, loves to play with your clit like crazy, but he isnt rough, but if you ask for him to be more rough he get into it, until youre fucking trembling. and he expect you to cum in his face, afterwards he is happy just to be there.

and his favorite position in bed is either cowgirl or spoonign, firts bc he like when you take control, and seconds, he gets to hold you and be close to you and not making too much effort.

in the case of cowgirl, he loves pushing up to go deeper, and all of that while watching you face, damn he loves it. also likes to hold you waist, and watch you support your body with your hands on his legs, that way he can see better your boobs as you move. when he is close he bites his bottom lip so hard just bc he wants to see you how you cum as well, literally make you look into his eyes while doing it. and if he can, shu will sit up just to kiss you and and look into your eyes up close. he loves to intimidate you with his gaze.

"cmon... keep looking at me... dont take your pretty eyes off mine..."

and if you refuse to lok at him, shu would hold you face to make your eyes meet his.

and in the case of spooning, he grabs you close, like if shu wants to get into your skin, would hold onto your tits or your belly with one hand while he other is in your neck, making you look back at him while he trust into you deep and nice. would kiss your shoulder, your neck, your back, any little part of your skin that is close to him, he would kiss it gently, and if shu speed up a little, you would hear his hot breaths in your ear, occacionally biting it.

"fuck... you're mine, you know that?... only mine.. say it..."

"you're my woman... hear it?... say it... i want to hear you..."

the aftercare is another story to tell, basically he would be either too lazy to get up or just by luck he has something to clean up in his drawyer. he is the kind of men, that would prefer to stay dirty for a while just to hold you a little longer, definetly tease you for another round or just kiss you softly as he carees you hair or skin.

this man craves you with passion, and its touch starved.

── more of my content here!

[maul-of-shame]

Elrondriel/Galrond people I HAVE A THEORY-

SPOILERS FOR TROP SEASON 2

I find it funny Lord Sauron himself chose to appears as a brunette with soft wavy locks, big trusty brown eyes and appearing as devoted/loyal with a side of stubborness to "hit on/be hit on" by THE Galadriel (bro had access to her mind, knew what her soft spots would be), wonder WHO this reminds me of-

Sure, his hair is a tad longer than Elrond, BUT-

HEAR ME OUT ON THIS-

Sauron is everything but dumb.

Sauron had full access to Galadriel’s mind.

He could literally waltz around in her thoughts like it’s his own personal Airbnb, sipping tea and taking notes on all her emotional soft spots. And who does he channel? A guy who looks a lot like Elrond. Coincidence? I think not.

The two of them (Galadriel and Elrond) are tight.

VERY CLOSE.

They’ve got this deep, decades-long very close friendship (some like myself would say there is an underlying romance there/feelings) where they’re constantly sharing forehead touches, hand holds, and just generally being all up in each other’s personal space in the most tender, “I trust you with my life” kind of way. These two crave contact, and you see it in all the tiny little gestures between them.

Elrond's hands stop shaking as soon as he touches her arms, her hands. His eyes never leave her. He stays even when she's being reckless or stubborn. He cares about her.

Galadriel feels safe enough to relax her guard in front of him, she feels safe enough to cry in his arms, to rely on him. She cares about him.

So now imagine Sauron in his clever little “I’m gonna manipulate this situation” mindset. He knows Galadriel IS close to Elrond, that she trusts him, feels safe with him. That her and Elrond are each other's safe haven.

Maybe just maybe, by appearing with those same gentle, wavy locks and trustworthy brown eyes, Sauron is trying to tap into that. He knows that if he gives off some Elrond-ish vibes, it might pull at Galadriel's heartstrings. Maybe she’ll see him as a kindred spirit—devoted, loyal, a bit stubborn, just like Elrond.

And boom, she lets her guard down.

Now, obviously, we can say this could be totally platonic. I mean, Sauron could’ve been like, “Hey, I’m just gonna look like this guy because it’s practical.”

But come on… really? This is the dude who’s been lurking in the shadows, scheming for centuries. He knew what he was doing. It’s a classic power move, and he was playing all the angles.

Also, to add to my "he's dedicated" and manipulative thing here... Bro showed he could shapeshift into anyone. Celembribor, Galadriel herself etc.

I find it very funny he chose a look quite close to Elrond.

Also, Sauron’s new look in The Rings of Power is a total departure from what we saw in Season 1.

Gone is that darker, brooding vibe, and instead, we have this version with luscious wavy locks and those big, trusting brown eyes that make him look less like a villain and more like the guy you’d want to confide your deepest secrets to over a cozy fire. It’s almost comical and so very tragic how different he appears, and it feels like he’s channeling some Elrond-esque softness, (probably) because he’s totally seen Galadriel's heart and mind.

Did Sauron take a look into her thoughts and see how close she’s getting to Elrond?

I mean, come on, the kiss (purely platonic or NOT), the forehead touches, the longing looks: they're there for each other. They care about each other. They, on some level, love each other.

And he hates that.

And taps into it because he KNOWS that's what she craves.

Knows that's her safe haven, that Elrond is her safe haven.

It’s no wonder Sauron decided to ditch the scruff of the beard! He probably thought, “Hey, if I’m going to win her over, I need to look more approachable, more relatable. Maybe a bit softer. Oh look, why not take a look close to her bestfriend-” But let’s not kid ourselves; he’s still a far cry from being that sweet, caring dude he could never be.

But Elrond is.

Now, Sauron's like this charming, handsome stranger that’s trying too hard to be good. It’s like he’s thought, “What would Elrond do?” and went all-in on the “deceptive warmth” strategy.

He’s not just trying to fool Galadriel into seeing him as a hero; he’s playing up all those traits that resonate with her—loyalty, devotion, and that stubborn spirit she admires in Elrond. The shift feels strategic; Sauron has his finger on the pulse of her emotions, and he’s using it against her.

You can’t help but think he’s probably mulling over the fact that Elrond’s presence in her life is like this shadow looming over him. That Elrond is everything he, Sauron, cannot be for Galadriel.

That he will never be this for her.

The connection they share must just gnaw at him, knowing that Galadriel is reminiscing about those moments of intimacy, feeling all the warmth that comes from Elrond, that whatever happens she has him. Elrond.

So, what does Sauron do? He mirrors that closeness, trying to evoke those same feelings, all while wearing that new, softer look to lure her in. He's got his finger over her pulse and is ready to crush her with everything Elrond is and that's why Galadriel is devastated because Sauron tried to destroy this image, those qualities.

Tried to destroy Elrond's qualities.

And that's why I absolutely love this ending because the fact is, they have fights yes, but at the end of the day, Elrond and Galadriel still have each other, no matter what.

And it makes him furious.

NB: DM me to get an invite for "A Corner of Rivendell" Elrondriel server!

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 8: What Took You So Long

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: Finding forever took forever. Now it’s time to slow it down.

Word Count: 3,414

Content/Warnings: moderate alcohol consumption, mildly negative self-talk, looking back on the past, poking fun, mild swears, entirely too much affection, learning to cook, mild allusions to adult fun times, pet name usage

A/N: hehehe, the thought of grocery shopping with a SO has been eating me up recently. Also, a good friend of mine thinks I’m becoming disillusioned to what real-life romance is like. Oops

Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo welcome and appreciated!!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Below is the song which inspired this chapter. Talk about sappy.

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

You and Ari were grocery shopping when it hit him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. A part of him had known the whole time, but this moment had really made it click.

You weren’t even looking at him, your eyes instead favoring the rows of produce, mentioning facts about how to determine when each fruit or vegetable was ripe. It was beautifully mundane, it was you sharing a little more of yourself and your wide breadth of knowledge he could never get over, and it was everything he ever wanted to love for the rest of time.

He was in awe of the way you moved through the aisles, your natural understanding of everything a person could possibly need, and how well you knew his preferences.

You pulled out spices, describing the dishes that utilize them. You explained the importance of salt, but not too much, and why a person could possibly need more than one kind. You walked him through different ways to make a balanced meal. The entire time, he was enthralled. He was completely taken by you and hung on to every word like it would save his life. Well, it sort of already did.

The two of you went to the checkout counter with your full cart, Ari pushing it as you began to load the items onto the belt.

Ari helped the cashier bag them up, and before he could even think to pull out his wallet, you’d already swiped your card. Ari cocked his head to the side, his long hair that peeked out from under his hat swaying. The ball cap looked so funny in juxtaposition to his ranger uniform, which he still wore as a product of you picking him up from work. His eyebrow raised as if to say ‘seriously?’

You smiled and shrugged as you took the receipt, skipping off in front of him as he pushed the cart out of the store and to your SUV. You slowed to allow him to catch up.

“You know I could’ve gotten that. These groceries are for my house, after all.” You laughed before reaching the car and pressing the button for the lift gate.

As the trunk began to open, Ari parked the cart and you felt arms wrap around you from behind. His beard bristled against your neck as he nestled in with his chin on your shoulder and kissed your cheek.

A soft smile remained on your face. “Consider it a gift. Welcome to independence, and official adulthood.”

He laughed into your hair. “Well it hardly counts as independence if you just took care of me. Swooping down to save the day again like the Angel you are. If you’re not careful, people are gonna think you’re my sugar mommy. Then I’m definitely not independent or much of a full-on grown-up.”

You rolled your eyes before turning around to start placing the bags into the trunk, keeping your head down doing your best to hide your blush at what Ari just said. You loved that he thought the world of you, and loving Ari like that was easy. Now, in terms of the sugar mommy comment, you both knew your job paid better, but neither had an issue with it, so any time it came up, he loved to joke like that, despite him having some savings from living so modestly.

Once you finished loading, you looked up into his sparkling eyes, creased with the smile he always wore when around you, finally replying. “I’ll give you sugar, you just have to wait until we’re home for it.”

You winked before giving him a chaste kiss, far too short for his liking, closing the trunk, and hopping up into the driver’s side, leaving Ari to return the cart.

When Ari returned to you, you started the car towards his cabin. You drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding his over the center console. His thumb absent-mindedly stroked the back of your hand as Ari looked out the window, thinking about how he was going to pick out a ring.

Ari was finally losing his bachelor fridge. Gone were the days of it only housing lunch meat and beer.

You had just helped him finish putting away the new haul as he had gotten changed out of his uniform. Everything had a place and he had never seen the cabinets so full. You had a methodical system he really appreciated.

Ari’s hands were on your hips as he was about to set you on the counter before you stopped him, placing a hand on his chest.

“Wait, stop.”

He looked at you confused.

You removed your hand from his chest and held a pointer finger up. “One more thing. Gimme a sec. I left it in the car.”

You dipped under his arm that had you barricaded against the counter, running towards the front door and slipping on the first pair of shoes you saw, Ari’s massive boots clopping as you ran on the driveway. You opened up the back door of your car, looking under the seat to pull out a small package wrapped in brown paper and a twine bow.

You ran back in to where Ari was still standing there with his mouth agape, one hand on the countertop, the other on his hip. You cautiously crept towards him with the package tucked behind your back.

His face morphed into a suspicious smile. “Whatcha got there, Duchess?”

You giggled, toes meeting his as you looked up at his towering form. He made a move to reach behind your back before you quickly slid out of his reach.

“Ah ah ah, surprises are meant to be given, not stolen, ya little klepto. Now close your eyes.”

Ari’s head fell forward with a sigh before looking back at you through his eyelashes. “Fine.”

His eyelids fluttered shut as he held out his hands and you pulled the small package out from behind your back, carefully placing it.

“Okay, open.” Ari looked down at the brown paper intently.

“What is it? What’s the occasion? You already bought my groceries.”

He set it on the counter before propping you up onto the island like he had tried to before. You shrugged, your hands gripping the edge as your feet swung.

“Open it. I know we didn’t really discuss gifts or anything, but happy one year of me almost hitting you with my car.”

He laughed, picking it up again and untying the twine. “The first or second time?”

He knew which time. It was the first one. He marked the day as soon as he’d gotten home from your first coffee shop date, counting back the days to that fateful run-in on the mountain pass.

You kicked his thigh lightly before silently urging him to tear open the paper. It revealed a small cookbook.

“‘Cooking for Two?’ What-“ His eyes grew wide. “You’re not…” he looked around before ducking his head slightly and whispering. “Pregnant…are you?”

You shoved him back. “What!? No. No!”

You shook your head frantically. “Absolutely not. That is not what this means.”

The two of you were more than careful enough to make sure that didn’t happen—at least not right now. You’d made sure to find the right birth control and Ari took proper precautions on his end, as well.

You laughed uncomfortably before going silent. Ari let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, okay, that’s good- I mean, not that I wouldn’t….like, well, kids….um.”

You calmed him, placing both hands on his shoulders. “I-I get it trust me. I want kids, too someday, just not right now. It’s okay, we’re on the same page about that.”

He nodded and placed his head on your shoulder as your hand moved to stroke his hair.

“Thank you for understanding me. Where have you been all my life?” Seriously, he couldn’t believe that heaven ever let him find you.

You placed a kiss on his temple. “I was getting prepared to meet you.”

You leaned back to catch his gaze. “Now let me explain. This book, which is most definitely not a pregnancy cookbook, is because I’m hoping to start spending more dinners here now that you’re all stocked. As much as I love cooking for you, I think it’s important we both know how.”

You gestured your head to the single book that sat on the shelf in the corner of his kitchen. “Plus, I think you’ve earned an addition to the collection. You’ve graduated on to the next best thing. The pizza incident is a thing of the past.”

He shook his head reminiscing on the memory. “It’s not my fault you distracted me.”

You looked at him with feigned shock and disbelief as he leaned in for a kiss. “But as my present to you, let me cook you dinner?”

You nodded, leaning in to meet him. The kiss was soft and slow before it became needier. Ari tried pulling you close, his one arm falling from your waist down to your hip, the other still holding the book, before you placed your hand on his chest again, pushing him away.

“Nice try, Bear, but I’m starving. As much as I wanted to see where that kiss went, I want food more. Chop chop.”

You grabbed the other end of the book still sitting in your lap and gently raised it, pushing it towards his face and turning him towards the stove.

“You pick out a recipe while I get some drinks started for us. Sound good?”

As much as Ari would’ve grumbled at anyone else, he was happy to oblige you, flipping through the pages as you pulled out two glasses and began pouring.

Ari was so happy with the way you took over his space. Everywhere he looked, he saw you. Every room in the small shack had been filled with laughs and memories that filled his chest with warmth. Gone were the days that pained him to even look at the walls as the darkness seeped in. All that existed was light. It shined off of you and stayed reflecting off every surface, leaving an imprint of contentment in Ari’s brain, even when you weren’t here.

Ari leaned back against the counter next to the stove, arms crossed as he simply watched you. Over the period of him preparing the meal that was nearly finished, you had changed into one of his old wildlife conservation hoodies he’d gotten from working a fundraiser.

You danced without a care in the world, swaying with your arms above your head to the music you had blasting through the small cabin. Your one hand held your second cocktail of the evening.

As much as Ari hated to, he had to pull his gaze off you for a second to check the roast on the stove. When he opened the pot lid, you caught a whiff of the truly delectable scent. The sweetness of carrots swirled with the seasoning blend over the braised beef.

You set your glass down on the island, dancing over to him and stepping up behind the wall of a man. No spanks in the kitchen was a long-standing rule, which was a shame for the sweatpants he was wearing, but nothing was ever contested about hugs.

Your arms snaked around his waist and up under the front of his shirt as you rested your cheek between his shoulder blades. You could feel the ripple of each muscle as his arms expertly maneuvered and he breathed steadily, it was like marble that moved. Yet, there was a softness to it, maybe from the sensation of the chest hair under your fingertips, maybe from the smell of the fabric softener he used. There was always a softness to Ari, especially around you.

He hummed, reaching to pull low-rimmed bowls down from the cabinet, serving up the meal and setting it aside before running his hands up his shirt to meet yours. He turned around and pulled your hands between the two of you, placing a kiss on each hand, right on the ring finger. Starting forever was at the forefront of his mind, unbeknownst to you.

“Ready to eat?”

You nodded with wide eyes, grabbing silverware and dancing over to the dining room as Ari followed with your meals, dancing along.

As the sun fell, you and Ari were still sitting at his dining room table. His small work-provided cabin didn’t offer much room to move around, but there was just enough for the two of you and you didn’t mind being cozy.

You were putting together a puzzle under the warm lighting, newly donned fuzzy socks on your feet that he’d tucked away as a surprise for this very special day, finally giving them to you after dinner.

The two of you moved quickly, but not hastily, as you passed Ari the outline pieces and you worked to piece together the internal scenery. Your movements were paired with witty banter and discussions about past lives. No matter how much time you spent together, you could never learn enough. You wanted to know everything.

“So that was the spring break I spent doing cleanup work for a tornado. It’s not like I had any plans otherwise besides going home, but my mom understood it was what I needed to do.”

Ari nodded along. He enjoyed learning about the road you took that led your hearts to each other. All the things you did with your hours and your minutes. Seriously, what didn’t you do? Even now you were constantly on the move, filling your schedule with valuable, enriching things. You chased your dreams even if they took you far away from your hometown. At least, that was how he saw it. How could you always find the time to be with him? To dedicate to him when you had so many other things on your plate?

He didn’t want to question it too much, though, for fear that you’d catch on and think he didn’t live up to how amazing you were. But Ari thought to himself more, realizing the good he really had done. What took him so long? Where had this version of him been all his life? You had awoken it in him. You had pushed him to become a better version of himself.

He was roused from his thoughts by your question. “So what about you? Ever do anything fun for spring break in college?”

Ari’s eyebrows rose as he thought back to it. He hadn’t finished college and it honestly seemed like a lifetime ago. He blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair.

“Well, I only had two spring breaks. I remember going down to Daytona beach with some buddies of mine, getting drunk on Coronas and them all being drunk on love with whoever they met down there.”

You took a sip of your drink, nodding as you swallowed. “Sounds about normal. I bet you were a charmer back in the day, too. Sometimes I wish we’d met then.”

Ari shook his head vigorously at that, taking the drink from your hands and finishing it down. “Ehhhh…I’m not so sure about that. I do not think you would’ve liked to have met me then. I probably wasn’t deserving to be in your arms.”

Your brows pinched together as you took the drink back, going to Ari’s fridge and getting a fresh round of beer, hunching over to reach the shelf. “I don’t agree that you weren’t deserving. Sure, we lived different lives, but you were still you.”

Ari thanked you as you placed the new bottle in his hand, taking your seat again and shuffling the puzzle pieces.

“I mean, Bear, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who actually cares about being a ranger as much as you do. You go to all those little conferences and retreats and trainings and actually enjoy them. That’s not just a trait that develops overnight. It’s character.”

Ari blushed. Not even the cold beer was enough to counteract the warmth in his cheeks that came around when you said little things like that. When he could see how much of the little things you noticed. When you saw him.

He scoffed and tried to brush it off, though. As much as he loved to hear your praise, he respectfully disagreed with your assessment of his college self. Sure, if it had been up to him then, he would’ve been ecstatic to meet you a lot sooner, but God knew what he was doing making Ari wait all this time.

“Nah, I was a bit of a punk. And I wasn’t ready then to meet someone like you, but I think I’m ready now.” It was true. Right when Ari met you was when his world started spinning, but he wouldn’t have been able to handle it as the immature, reckless, and restless young delinquent he was.

“I definitely wasn’t doing humanitarian work like you. Trust me, Duchess, if you would’ve seen me…let’s just say…I don’t think I would’ve ever gotten the opportunity like now to kiss you every morning with the sunshine. I would’ve blown it pretty early on.”

You shrugged and continued to snap pieces into place with one hand while the other reached for his, pulling it to your lips for a kiss. “Agree to disagree.”

The puzzle was shaping up now, as you worked to slide your solved chunks in towards the middle with Ari. Only a few pieces were left to be placed.

Ari continued to work on the task at hand, but it took a back seat in his mind to the main show that was you. Sure, he loved little activities, but mostly, he just loved you and the time you could spend together. He’d do anything if it meant just stealing another moment.

As you were close to finishing, there were two spots open, but only one puzzle piece left. You stood up, looking on your seat, spinning around to check the floor, and even peeking under the mostly-solved puzzle with no luck.

“Bear, stand up. Do you see the last piece anywhere? Can you please help me find it?”

He stood up and cleared his throat. “Sure thing. It’s gotta be here somewhere. This was a new set. Couldn’t have gone far.”

The two of you looked over every nearby surface, Ari even checking the fridge to see if you’d tracked it into there somehow, and to get himself another drink after looking for the piece at the bottom of his bottle.

Somehow this hunt had turned into a dance, though. Or…more of a hobble?, as Ari had wrapped his arms around your neck, hugging you from behind and resting his head over one shoulder, taking big, goofy, swaying steps with you.

He lived for this. Really. Where had you been all his life? This night was another quotidian moment he wanted to bask in. He felt like it had taken him forever to find the one he wanted to spend forever with, but now that he did, he just wanted time to slow down. He wanted to drag out this night just a little bit longer.

You turned around in his hold, hands rubbing his chest and abs over the old hoodie he wore. Your nails raked up and down, sending tingles to the firm muscles under the plush fabric. Ari held you close, large hands splayed against your lower back. As your hand brushed over the pocket in his sweatshirt, you felt something small and flat with sharp edges.

“Hm, that’s suspicious.” Your head tilted as you looked up at the tree of a man, a sly smile on his face, looking back down at you.

“Oh, Angel, I’m just excited to see you.”

Without breaking eye contact, you reached into the pocket, finding exactly what you’d expected, mouth open in a small gasp of fake shock.

“As much as you wish it were, not everything is about your dick, Levinson.”

You winked and leaned up to kiss his cheek. Ari simply gave a shrug as you shimmied out of his hold and back over to the table, sliding the final puzzle piece into place. This was a mimetic moment for him; a visual representation of what you’d done in his life, and he planned to never let you go.

Next >

Bonus A/N: Bro, a lil sap who thinks the world of me? That’s all I want. Fr Fr.

If you agree, I’d love to hear about it. Drop me a comment or reblog. Thank you for reading!!

Series Taglist:

@patzammit

@hawkeyes-queen

@identity2212

@jamneuromain

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

[rosenbergamot]

Everyone is Trans???? (REAL NOT CLICKBAIT!!!)

Grian is the only trans person on Hermitcraft.

He knows this as a complete and utter fact. He’s not lying about this, no matter how much he wishes he was-- and goodness, does he wish he was every damn day of his life. It’s lonely to be the only trans person on a server full of your dearest companions. 

It’s not even a horrible thing. He doesn’t trust them any less, doesn’t love them any less, but he sure is peeved about being surrounded by cis people all the time. When he wants to talk about his hips looking too wide today, or his top surgery scars not sitting right enough for him, or the way he’s so happy he can finally grow something of a beard, or how having long hair has gone from something dysphoric to something euphoric for him-- he just can’t! 

Because they won’t understand! And, sure, of course he can just tell them because they’re his friends and they care about him, but sometimes he doesn’t want to just be cared about. Sometimes he wants to be understood. Sometimes he doesn’t want to have to explain everything, going through the same tiring motions he’s gone over time and time again in his life. 

Can a guy not just want another trans person to complain to? Is it really so hard for that to be his reality? Is it really so much to ask?

He’s having a particularly annoying day today. His stupid jeans aren’t fitting correctly on his hips. Usually he’s not too angry about it. On days where he feels more feminine he likes that he has these hips, revels in the way clothes hug his curves, but right now he’s feeling just about as Man as one possibly could, and it’s making him want to rip apart his clothes because none of them fit right. 

He ends up in a pair of sweatpants that hide enough of himself so that he’s able to leave his base. The day outside is warmer than expected, beautiful and sunny, and he immediately regrets the large sweater and comfy sweatpants he had chosen to wear. The light glints off of the ocean, teasing him with its deep secrets that he will never be able to decipher. 

In the distance he can see the newest addition to Scar’s train-- the big snail that those pesky snails had built. It worries him that they can build things all of a sudden. Still, it’s not like he can do anything about it. You just have to accept that they’re going to do whatever they please and then they’ll tone it down. It seems they like to cause mayhem. He can’t really knock them for that. 

He unhooks Pluto from the post. He runs his hands through his mane, reveling in the coarse feeling. It takes his mind away from his body for a few seconds, lets him be completely and utterly still in a way that he often isn’t. Being so detail oriented and such a perfectionist can be hard on the psyche sometimes, especially when that energy is directed towards your body. 

You might as well roll his boulder and call him Sisyphus because he’s… uh…

He’s having a rough go at it. 

Pluto whinnies as he stops petting him, nudges his hand with his snout. It’s time to go check the shopping district. Maybe do permit things. Ugh. 

The ride is uneventful. He smashes the glass to the permit office with his pickaxe, picks it back up and replaces it so that nobody gets any funny ideas. Don’t want them bothering him or anything of the sorts when he’s here. Having to work is his worst nightmare.

The office is as quiet as it is dark. He sighs so loud it fills up the space. He freshens up the light, makes sure that the sign telling people the door is out of order is in place, and then moves behind the filing cabinets, taking a look at his uniform that sits there.

Usually he likes how it fits. It’s tight, accentuating his flat chest and his curves. He likes it that way. Not today though. 

Today he’ll forgo the outfit. It’s not like anyone is going to come in, anyways.

--

Twenty minutes later and he was very wrong. Someone is digging underneath the building, muttering to themselves, and Grian guesses who it is before he even pops his head in. 

Of course Scar of all people needs help with permits today. He’s always looking for any chance he gets to bother Grian into doing work. He puts down his book, eyes him with an anger that he knows feels inappropriate even for him. Sue him, he’s having a bad day.

“Grian!” Scar’s voice is louder than he remembered. He’s got specks of dirt on his face. 

He shoves his shovel into the dirt, leans on it, falls over a little bit as it teeters, tries to right himself, ends up just knocking the shovel over instead, stands up straight, puts his hands behind his back. Stops. Coughs. Smiles. Continues yapping.

“It’s so lovely to see you here! It’s such a coinkidink that fate would put the both of us here! In the permit office! At the same time! Almost as if we’re destined to meet here and do paperwork together and-- and help me with my permit so that I can actually do something as a zoo keeper…” His voice is quieter at the end. Grian pretends not to hear it. 

“Scar.” He greets flatly. “What do you want?” 

Disregarding his ire, Scar saunters up to him. “Oh, well, nothing too bad, G, nothing at all! I wouldn’t dream of making you work or anything-- um…” He stops suddenly. He opens his mouth. He closes it, looking him up and down. If a visual question mark could appear over a person’s head, it absolutely would in this moment. “You’re not dressed up in your-- your little… office uniform! Your little suit! Where’s your clip-on tie, Grian?”

Ugh. “Office Grian is out of the building today.”

That does not do anything to quell Scar’s confusion. His big ol’ eyes look wet and pathetic as he stares at him. “B-B-B-B-But… how am I supposed to get help with my form if office Grian isn’t here?”

“You’re just gonna have to deal with good ol’ regular Grian today.” 

He loves Scar beyond words-- really, it drains him how much he loves this man-- but today is not the day for him. He can feel his energy departing out of his body already. He was going to try and stick it out for a while today. It looks like plans are changing swiftly.

“Is regular Grian as know-- legible. Knoll… knowledge…” He hums, goes down a different path. “Do you know how to do the form? Because I need some serious help, G.” 

He drags a hand down his face. It’s sweaty. “Office Grian doesn’t even know how to do the form, Scar.” 

“What?!” This is genuine surprise from him. “So you’re tellin’ me that this form is all… all…”

“Bullshit?” He finishes the sentence for him. “Yeah. Pretty much.” His head is starting to hurt. “Ugh. Look, Scar, I’m not feeling good today, so maybe we can leave this for another day?”

The humour drops from Scar’s face. It leaves genuine concern. “Yeah-- I mean, no worries. Of course. Of course! Do you… uh, do you need-- need anything? Want to… talk about it?” 

It’s tentative. An olive branch. Scar is a very kind guy. A genuinely nice person. He thinks he’s perhaps caught him off guard with how open he’s being right now. It leaves him quiet and thoughtful. 

When the smile is off of Scar’s face one can really appreciate the way he looks. It’s not like his smile isn’t beautiful-- because it is, it’s moreso that this stillness is rare for him, moments of calm few and far between his cheesy one-liners and fake grins, and so when one is awarded this sight it feels disarming. 

He often forgets how beautiful Scar is. He thinks about how handsome he is on the daily, a fact which he divulges to nobody but himself, achingly aware of it everytime he sees him. Yet he misses how pretty he is. It makes his heart hurt.  

“Um.” He says as he snaps himself out of his… state. With nothing else to say, he just goes, “okay?” Y’know, like someone who wasn’t just staring deep into their friend’s eyes and remarking on how gorgeous they are. Like a smart and normal person. He grins to try and make it look extra convincing.

Scar’s face immediately screws up into worry. It was not convincing. 

“Ohhhh, god. Who are you and what have you done with Grian? I-I-I-I’m scared! You actually want to talk about it? What kind of sorcery is this?”

The bit of humour grounds him. He snorts. “Scar, don’t make me regret my choice.”

That shocks him into movement. His friend’s head whips around, eyes looking for something. He runs around the office wildly, tripping over his untied shoelaces, ignoring his squawk of “tie your shoes Scar!”, and comes back with two chairs. He sets them down in front of the desk, patting the other one. When Grian doesn’t move he pats it again, more insistent. Finally he acquiesces, leaving the comfort of the desk and sitting across from Scar. 

“So!” His voice is far too cheery. His smile is straining at the edges. He’s out of his element right now, Grian realizes. And it’s because he always has to fight to get these talks out of Grian. It’s like pulling tooth and nail sometimes. And here he is, just ready to… to bare it all. 

Oh, god. He’s going to talk to him. About his problems. And his body. 

He suddenly feels sick.

“I think I may throw up.” 

Scar’s smile falls. “What?” 

He splays his upper body across the desk. His stomach is doing flips. “This. This is going to kill me, Scar. Do you understand?” 

“N-No?” 

“I am going to die a painful death, Scar, and it’s all because you made me talk about my… my feelings!” He makes a throwing up sound. 

“Now you-- you just wait a second, mister!” Scar leans forward so that he can poke him in the shoulder. “I didn’t make you do anything-- in fact you agreed to it! So let me hear it, Gri, or I-I swear I’m gonna… I’m gonna! I’m gonna send those stupid snails back over to you and make them eat your mending book right in front of your eyes!”

He gasps. “You wouldn’t.”

An mhm. A nod. “Ohhh, I would. Don’t you test me now!” 

He’s seen enough fish in the short span they’ve been in this season to know that, in his shock, his mouth is opening and closing like one. It takes all his resolve to not run out of the building and leave this stupid place behind. Sure, Scar may try and follow him, but he’s fast-- surely he can outrun him! It… it wouldn’t be too hard! He can do it!

The energy leaves him in one fell swoop as the silence drags on and Scar only seems to get more worried about him. Finally, he looks away.

“I feel alone…” he bites out. It’s like chewing glass. 

“Oh?” Scar is interested. That’s him telling him to continue. 

The proverbial glass on his tongue and teeth cut up his mouth and bleed the truth out of him. “I have… a particular problem that nobody else on the server can relate to.”

“Is it an avian thing?” He scratches his head. “Y’know, I know that Pearl isn’t exactly an avian herself, but she may be able to help you out. Or-- hey! Jimmy is an avian! We can message him?” 

He’s earnest. So earnest. He grits his teeth. “It’s not. An avian thing.” 

That makes Scar stop. “Is it… is it a them thing?”

Them. Neither of them need to say their names to know. 

“God-- no. No. Thank goodness.” In his stress, he begins to pull at his hair, his wings ruffling. “I just. God. Scar, I can’t believe you don’t know. We’ve spent…” lives together. Lived and died together. Stuck by each other’s sides when no one else would. Hurt each other but mostly just loved each other. “We’ve spent time together.” 

“We sure have! I-- I, uh… I don’t know what you’re talking about, though.” 

“Have you ever looked at me when I’m shirtless?” He just decides to bite the bullet. 

Scar’s jaw drops. His face begins to turn a shade of red he didn’t think was possible. He looks away, fiddling with the brim of his hat. “No, no-- no! No way. Noooo way. Never, G-- never! I would. Never.” 

“Why are you so--? Look, nevermind! Scar, I-I’m different from everyone else and it’s not because of them and it’s not because I’m an avian.”

“You’re gonna have to spell it out for me.” He’s still not looking at him. Did that really embarrass him so much? That… that means many things that he just does not have the brain to dissect right now. 

“I’m not cis.” Is all he can really say. 

It’s so silent you can hear a pin drop. 

“You’re…” Scar’s finger wobbles as he points at him. His jaw is back to being on the fucking floor. 

For a second, Grian thinks he’s just fucked up the entire thing they have going on. Scar is going to leave him. He’s going to hate him and he’s going to tell everyone and it’s going to ruin his life. Poppies and lilacs will mean nothing to them anymore. 

But then Scar starts to smile. He wiggles his fingers, bouncing in his seat. “Ooooh, Grian! Grian, I had no idea! What the heck?” His laugh is a little intense considering the information just given. Dread leaks out of his body and is replaced by confusion. Scar is still laughing. “What the heck?! You mean to tell me we could have been bondin’ even more? How-- how the heck did I not notice that?”

“What…?” His voice cracks. 

Firmly, Scar points at him. “Hold on, how the heck did you not notice this?!” He points to his own chest.

“Scar, what on Earth are you talking about?” 

With little care for much of… anything, really, Scar rips his own shirt open, the buttons flying off and skittering across the floor. He points aggressively at two thick scars underneath his pecs. They pucker at the end, pulling skin taut against his ribs. He’d recognize something like that anywhere. 

It’s Grian’s turn for his jaw to drop. “W-What? You… wait-- what? You… I-- Scar, put your shirt back on!” 

“The shirt is gone, Grian,” he says with faux seriousness. “You’re just gonna have to deal with this right now.”

He’s trying very hard not to stare at Scar’s chest. He is fighting a losing battle. 

“Nevermind that, though-- how the heck did you not notice these scars? They’re gigantic, Grian! Biggest ones I’ve got on my-- my whole… whole area!” He gestures vaguely to his body.

“Your torso?” He sighs. “I don’t know, Scar, I guess I don’t make it a habit to look at your pecs?”

That answer seems to displease him greatly. “Well, I can’t see why not, my pecs are amayzin’.” 

You know what… “Sure, Scar. Sure they are.” 

He beams at him. “You’re welcome to stare at them anytime, Grian!”

His ears are getting warm. Stupid Scar. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone on here.”

To Scar this seems like a joke. He laughs. When Grian doesn’t laugh too, he stops. Stares at him. Squints at him. “You-- you weren’t ever alone, Grian.”

“I didn’t know that you were also trans!” He argues, feeling his back start to rise. 

“No-- no, I mean… jeez, Grian, I don’t think I know a single cis person on this server. In fact, MIster, I thought you were the only one we had-- until now, of course!” 

“What.” 

“Actually I think Skizzy Wizzy is cis! Or-- or maybe he’s not…” He furrows his brows. “Ah, whatever, point is: you’re surrounded by trans people whether you like it or not, mister!”

“Why would I dislike it?” It still doesn’t feel real to him. If he weren’t sitting down he would have to sit down again. As it stands (or sits, he supposes) he just sinks lower into his chair. “I can’t believe this. I’ve been-- I’ve been stewing for years! Wait-- Mumbo?!”

“Yep!” He pops the ‘p’, grinning wildly. It makes Grian start to laugh. That makes Scar start to laugh. In a very sweet moment that turns very sobering very quickly, Scar takes his hand, squeezes it as if he’s squeezing one of those grip testing machines-- ow! “Now you don’t have to hide it, G. Isn’t that amayzin’?” 

The contact makes his head start to spin. “You’re crushing my hand, Scar.”

“Whoops!” He lets go, blushing. “Sorry, sometimes I don’t even know my own strength!” 

“Yeah, yeah… anyways, what was that about you definitely not staring at my chest earlier?”

Scar runs out of the building so fast you would swear he had somewhere to be. 

Which is good enough for Grian, because that means he doesn’t have to put an ounce of work in today! He puts down his ‘Gone Fishin’ sign, repairs the hole left by Scar, and then leaves the building. He feels lighter than he’s ever felt before.

So it turns out he was wrong. He’s never been so glad to be so wrong. 

(read it on ao3 here! <3)

[jerzwriter]

This is a fictional answer to @tobias-carrick-appreciation-week's What Would Tobias Do? question for day 6: What would Tobias do if he was dating someone he was (surprisingly) really into, then he found out they were a porn actress. This has me changing his dating history, because this is officially part of my HC. lol I hope you enjoy this flashback to The Hopkins Years fic!

Book: Open Heart (Pre-Series / Johns Hopkins Years) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!OC Other: Ethan Ramsey Rating: Teen - maybe Mature to be safe. Nothing explicitly. Words: 3,027 (sorry...) Summary: Tobias Carrick wasn't known for taking relationships seriously - at this stage of his life - he was there for a good time, not for a long time. Then he meets Stacy, and things change. He's finally accepted that's OK when a secret from her past threatens to blow it apart. How will Tobias react to the news, and what impact does it have on the couple?

A/N: I have additional A/Ns at the end. But participating in @julychallenge Pink: Romance, Vulnerable Black: Attraction, The Unkonwn

Ethan stood over the stove wearing no more than his old, blue terry bathrobe. His disheveled hair, stubbly beard, and raspy voice all indicators of how raucous last night had been. The fact that he was standing and cooking could be considered a medical miracle in and of itself, or so it seemed, until Tobias emerged from his bedroom.

They had similar nights, but Tobias looked no worse for the wear. Already fully dressed, with a bright smile on his lips,  he waved to his friend and roommate as he continued a conversation on his phone.

“I’m making eggs. Do you want any?” Ethan hollered, but the question went ignored.

“It was great,” Tobias grinned. “I’m so glad you thought so, too.”

Ethan rolled his eyes as he tended to the eggs; this uncharacteristic behavior had become more common in recent weeks.

“Do you have plans today? No? Well, I was thinking of taking a drive to Kent Island. I’d love the company if you’d like to come along? All right... great! I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

Tobias sat at the kitchen counter, where breakfast awaited him. He didn’t say a word until the weight of Ethan’s stare became too much to ignore.  

“What?” he asked, almost annoyed.

“I took the liberty of making eggs for you,” Ethan scowled.

“So I see,” Tobias smiled. “Thank you.”  

“I asked you wanted any... of course, you didn’t answer.”

“You asked?” Tobias asked with confusion.

Normally, Ethan would have been annoyed, launching into a tirade about how Tobias doesn’t appreciate his contributions, but today, all he did was smile. It was a novel treat to see his roommate behaving this way.

“It’s Stacy... isn’t it?”

“What?” Tobias gasped, not willing to confess the obvious. “No! I’m just in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Yeah! Because of Stacy! No need to hide it; I can’t blame you at all. She is stunning.”

Tobias looked as bashful as he was proud; Ethan only wished he could be recording this.

“She is, isn’t she?” He replied with a grin.

“She’s also intelligent, funny, a great conversationalist....”

Tobias leaned back in his chair. His smug persona on full display.

“Most of my women are, Ethan...”

“Please,” Ethan scoffed. “Beautiful? Yes, but the rest... very debatable.”

Tobias chuckeled as he finished his eggs, but he didn’t argue Ethan’s point.

“It’s OK... you know... to like her more than for a night.”

“I know,” his friend replied matter-of-factly. “I’ve been seeing her a while now... and I’m taking her out again today. But thanks for the permission, buddy.”

Ethan shook his head. “What I meant is you can like her seriously. It’s all right to think long-term; it’s OK to consider commitment. You’re not getting any younger, and it’s not every day you find someone as special as Stacy.”

“Yes, Mom.” Tobias dismissed.

Tobias knew his friend was right; in fact, it’s all he had thought about since he met Stacy two months before. It scared the shit out of him, but if he was being honest, the prospect was a little less frightening each day.

“Well, I never said we’re getting serious,” he argued. “I...I’m just... I like her, you know?”

“I know,” Ethan grinned. “And you could do worse. Have fun at the beach,” He said with a smirk. “Should I expect you home late?”

Tobias smiled like the Cheshire cat. “Maybe you shouldn’t expect me home at all.”

~~~~

Stacy heard Tobias’s car from nearly a block away. The beautiful weather meant his car’s roof was down, and Rhianna blaring from the speakers was the only calling card Stacy needed. She was already walking down her steps when he arrived, and God, she was a sight to see.

Tobias did his best to maintain his composure, but that was a tall task as she sauntered his way. Her long auburn hair glistened in the sunlight, and her white sundress hugged every curve. And that smile—innocent as an angel’s yet irresistibly inviting—left him utterly speechless, and Stacy didn’t miss a thing.

She hopped into the passenger seat with a giggle; not wasting a moment, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss, and her effect on the man was instant.

“Mmmm,” he growled. “You need to stop that, or we’ll never make it to the beach.”

“Oh, we’re going to the beach,” she insisted. “Of course... who knows what we’ll do on the beach.”

Tobias held her hand most of the drive; he was both astonished and ashamed of how he felt. How was he falling so hard that even Ethan saw it? At any other time, he would have cut off all contact at once to stop whatever crazy feeling was happening, but with Stacy, it was impossible.      

It wasn’t just her beauty or the way the sound of her voice drove him insane. It was her quick-witted sense of humor that often left him and everyone else in stitches. It was her tender heart, like the time Tobias had to cancel a reservation he called in a favor to make just so they could tend to a wounded bird she spotted on their way. It was her brilliant mind, the head of her class in biotechnology; she could talk him under the table. He encouraged her to go to medical school, but she had already planned another path in painstaking detail. He didn’t want to admit it, but she could well be the whole package... and he was nowhere near ready for that... but he was already enchanted, and there seemed to be no way to break free of Stacy’s spell.

“Have you ever been to Kent Island?”  he asked.

“No. But then, I’ve only been to the beach once since moving to Baltimore.”

“What?” Tobias was stunned. “You’ve been here two years and been to the beach once?”

Stacy shrugged. “We can’t all be you, dear!” she teased. “Some of us have to put in a lot of effort to stay at the top of our class... not to mention some of us have to work to pay for Hopkins.” 

“Hey, I didn’t mean any offense,” he said with a kiss on her hand. “But I’m hoping you’ll let me spoil you a little.”

“Oh, what do you have in mind?” she cooed.

“Do you mean today or more long-term,” he smiled.

With his eyes on the road, he hadn’t seen Stacy’s face. If the words surprised him, they surprised her even more.

“Uh, let’s stick to today... for now...”

“All right, how does a walk on the beach and dinner at a great little seafood place, I know of, sound? We could spend some time on the boardwalk and maybe give me a chance to win you a prize.”

Reaching over the console, she placed a kiss on his cheek. “And here I thought you were my prize.”

“You’re good for a man’s ego,” he beamed as she placed her head on his shoulder for the remainder of the ride.

The day went as planned... better than planned... neither could remember the last time they had such fun so effortlessly, and they didn’t want it to end. Tobias rented a room at a local bed and breakfast where little sleep was to be had. After making love the night through, they woke up and showered together, only to decide to use that comfortable be once more before getting in the car to return to Baltimore.

Tobias was beginning to push his fear aside, and the stupid grin on his face made that perfectly clear. He was so wrapped up in the pastel summer haze he found himself buried in that he didn’t notice how quiet Stacy had become. She left his car rather quickly when he dropped her off, but he chalked it up to being exhausted... after all, they hadn’t had much sleep.

When he walked into the apartment, Ethan looked up from his studies and smirked at his roommate.

“So, your day at the beach turned into a weekend at the beach, I see.”

“Did you miss me, boo?” Tobias teased.

“Hell no! I loved having the place to myself. It’s so much more spacious when your big head isn’t here.”

“Hahaha,” Tobias ?. “Like your head doesn’t take up a ton of space.”

“Oh, it does!” Ethan concurred. “That’s why it’s more comfortable when only one of us is home. So... are you ready to admit that you really like this one?”

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, bro... but I do... I haven't told anyone this, but Mandy called to hang out the other night, and you know what hang out with Mandy's mean... and I passed. I could have gone, but I passed. Who the hell am I?”

“It’s not the worst thing in the world,” Ethan chuckled.

“That’s the scary thing,” Tobias said with a yawn. “I’m starting to see that. I even mentioned it to Stacy this morning.”

“You what?”

“I told her I was falling for her and asked if she felt the same... I can actually see myself wanting... more with her.”

“Wow,” Ethan grinned. “If I knew this was going to happen, I would have added the earthquake rider to our rental insurance policy. Sure, the idea of an earthquake in Baltimore is far-fetched, but right now, not so much.”  

“Shut up,”  Tobias chuckled, heading toward his room. As enlightening as the conversation was, he was desperate for some shut-eye. And luckily, he got a little in before his doorbell rang several hours later.

Ethan had headed out to work, so Tobias wiped the sleep from his eyes as he groggily answered the door. Though he was delighted to see he was disturbing his sleep.

“Stacy,” he beamed. “I didn’t expect to see you again today?”

She bit on her lip, then a hesitant smile formed on her lips. “I hope it’s OK that I dropped by unannounced. I tried calling you, but....”

Tobias took the phone out of his pocket. “Sorry, I turned the ringer off so I could take a nap. But you’re always welcome, come,” he said, opening the door. “Come on in. What brings you by?”

After assuring they were alone, Stacy took a seat on the couch, holding Tobias’s hands in hers. “I came by to talk about... what you said this morning... about wanting more... with me.”

“Oh,” he replied, noticing her apprehension. “Well, if that’s not what you want, it’s OK, I didn’t mean to frighten....”

“Tobias,” she smiled, holding a finger to his lips. “Let me finish. The thing is... I do... want more with you, too... but I’m not so sure you’ll want more with me.”

“But I’m the one who...”

She shot a look in his direction, and he was silent again. “There’s something you should know first.”

Retrieving her phone from her purse, she pulled up a video, then closed her eyes -  pressing pause – both on the video and her conversation.

“Hey... are you all right?” Tobias asked, placing an arm around her shoulders. “If you don’t want to....”

“No,” she sighed, it’s important. “I hope... I hope you don’t hate me.”

She handed him the phone and watched as his eyes grew three sizes. There on that little screen was Stacy – his Stacy – naked and having a great time – with someone that definitely wasn’t him. Peeling his eyes away, he pressed stop and turned to her.

“All right, hon, I’m not going to be mad at you and an ex having a sex video... that’s nothing I’ll judge... but why the need to show it to me.”

“He’s not an ex,” she said with a deep sigh. “He’s an actor... just like me.”

A wrinkle appeared on Tobias’s brow, showing his utter confusion, and Stacy swallowed hard before she continued.

“See, if I tell you my screen name, you can Google me... and you’ll find a whole lot more where that came from... I... I’m a porn actress.”

His eyes grew again, and his face was ashen. “You’re an... oh,” he fumbled for words.

“Look, it’s not that I’m ashamed,” she continued. “It was a choice I made... a choice that allowed me to attend college, a choice that made going to Hopkins for my masters a reality. A choice that helped get my family out of poverty...though I never really told them why. I told them I won the lottery and, well... I didn’t.”

“Stace,” Tobias started, “You really don’t owe me any explanation, I....”

“You’re right,” she interrupted. “I didn’t... until this morning. If you want us to be serious – you have a right to know. You don’t deserve to learn by some jackass telling you he saw me in Throbbin’ Hood.”

Tobias lowered his eyes with a little chuckle. “Now I saw Throbbin’ Hood, and you were not in that,” he joked, not sure what to say.

“So you’re a connoisseur, and you’ve never seen my work,” she half smiled. “I don’t know if I’m relieved or insulted.”

“I... I’m not sure what to say,” Tobias faltered. “I mean, I don’t judge you; as a connoisseur, I’d have to be a pretty big asshole to judge you...”

“Well,” she chuckled sadly. “You’d be surprised... most connoisseurs are quite judgemental.”

“Well, I’m not,” he said, taking her hand. “It’s just....”

“It’s just I’m not exactly what you had in mind when thinking about something serious.”

“No! I didn’t say that!” He insisted. “It’s just... this is a bit of a surprise, and I, can I have some time to process it?”

“Sure,” Stacy grinned, leaning over and placing a peck on his cheek. “Take some time and let me know what you decide, but Tobias?”

“Yes?”

“If you decide you don’t want to go further because of this part of my past, I’ll be sad, of course, but I’ll be OK. The person I’m meant to be with... they won’t hold it against me, and if you do... then you’re not my person. I just thought it was only fair to let you know before things go any further between us.”

After a hug, Stacy headed home, leaving Tobias in a daze on the couch. She had told him her porn name, and he was caught between temptation and horror at the thought of searching for it. In the end, horror prevailed, and he put his phone away. He was still in a state of astonishment when Ethan arrived home, immediately noticing the change in his friend’s demeanor.

Tobias wasn’t about to break Stacy’s trust, but if there was anyone he could trust to keep this between them, it was Ethan, and he needed a trusted friend’s opinion. Ethan did his best to conceal his own shock at the news.

“It’s OK, buddy,” he half-smiled. “I think my jaw was on the floor when she told me, too.”

“It’s just that I... I didn’t see that coming,” Ethan sighed. “Wow... of all things. So, does it change how you feel?”

Tobias sat back thoughtfully, then shook his head. “I meant what I said; I’d have to be a total dick if I watch porn, but judge someone for making it.”

“Agreed,” Ethan nodded. “And while I’ve never been in porn....”

“Of course you haven’t,” Tobias teased, attempting to add levity to the conversation. “Who the hell would want to see you?”

“And while I’ve never been in porn,” Ethan repeated loudly, ignoring his friend’s interruption. “I understand what it’s like to be poor and not sure if you’ll be able to live your dreams. I’m not advocating nor judging the choices she made... but my advice to you is not to pursue things further unless you can really say you don’t care. She doesn’t deserve to be with someone who will hold it against her, even if it’s subconsciously.”

“I agree,” Tobias replied. “And the truth is, I don’t think I would.”

“There is one other thing to consider,” Ethan injected. “Your family. I don’t know how the Carricks would take to their heir dating a former porn star. Ultimately, it’s not their choice, but...”

“Oh, I’ve given that thought,” Tobias interrupted. “But I’m not exactly proposing; we haven’t gotten nearly to that point. In a way, the idea of pissing them off is rather enticing, but I don’t think that would be fair to her.”

“No, it wouldn’t be. At the end of the day, it’s your choice, but for what it’s worth, this conversation stays between us, and I, for one, won’t think of her any differently than I did this morning, and I certainly wouldn’t judge you.”

Tobias smiled the first genuine smile he had since Stacy had left earlier in the day. “Thanks, buddy. I appreciate you listening.”

The following day, it was Stacy’s turn to open the door to an unexpected visitor. She wasn’t sure if her heart was about to be filled with joy or break when she saw Tobias at the door. Which might be why she couldn’t utter a word.

“May I come in?” he finally asked.

“Yes, of course!” She muttered as he stepped into her front hall.

Noting her puffy eyes, Tobias wanted to put an end to her worrying as quickly as possible; that’s when he pulled the small bunch of flowers he had picked up on his way over from behind his back, and Stacy broke into tears.

“Hey, hey!” He said, pulling her close. “Yeah, they’re supermarket flowers, I could do better next time, but it was kind of an impulse decision.”

“Next time?” she asked with a cracked voice. “So these aren’t a consolation gift when you tell me you never want to see me again.”

“No,” he replied with a kiss to her forehead. “They’re an apology for causing you what I’m sure was a very stressful night. And they come with an invitation – could I take you to dinner  tonight?”

“So, you still want to see where this goes?” she smiled.

“I’m willing if you are,” he grinned, and she replied by running into his arms and sealing the deal with a kiss.

“So, where are we going to eat?” he smiled. “Your pick!”

“In that case, order in a pizza and a six-pack,” she beamed. “Because tonight, I want you all to myself.”

A/N 2: OK I feel like some of my Tobias readers will be disappointed because this isn't humorous. But even back in Hopkins, I think he was having a good time, but I don't think he was a total asshole. He wouldn't have judged her, and he would be a hypocrite knowing his body count was definitely much higher than hers. College Tobias? Maybe he would have been a bit more of an ass, but he was mature enough by this point to handle it better.

While I won't write more for the pairing, my HC is that they dated exclusively for a little while, and they were happy during that time. But eventually, split up. Toward the end of med school the competition between Tobias & Ethan was turning toxic, and that colored his world and impacted his decisions (usually, poorly). Further, Ethan and Vincenza had broken up, and Tobias was being her shoulder to lean on. He realized how strong his feelings for Vincenza were, and didn't feel it would be right to string Stacy along. Basically, he wasn't remotely ready for anything like this. Stacy was disappointed, but it was an amicable parting.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[panelshowsource]

https://www.thetimes.com/article/david-mitchell-interview-upstart-crow-marriage-to-victoria-coren-and-fatherhood-5g73ccfzn

please, if you can do this you are absolutely incredible

sure anon, you just go to archive.is and plug in the link 😉

full article below the cut

When the Peep Show actor and panel-show regular David Mitchell was a boy – clever, introspective and a doted-upon only child for eight years – he had his “special costume trunk”. There was a lime-green and brown jumper for Star Trek, a black mac for Doctor Who and an 18th-century king. One day, when he was strutting around in the mac with his trousers stuffed into his socks, a plastic sword by his side and a piece of string tied round his waist, some older boys knocked on the front door and said they’d kicked their ball into the Mitchells’ garden. As they trooped through to find it, Mitchell hid behind a tree in shame, “oppressed”, he remembers, “by the feeling of being a weirdo. I was just a small boy and not quite as normal as I’d have liked.”

Cut to today. Mitchell, 44, is in the street in Waterloo in London wearing brown linen trunk hose, a leather codpiece, knee-high brown leather boots, a white linen shirt with Shakespearean collar, a brown leather doublet and belt and pouch. His already very high and clever forehead (Oxford private schoolboy, Cambridge history student, Footlights actor and writer) has been lifted a few inches higher still with the help of a bald cap and prosthetic forehead – “Although David has a brainy forehead, it’s not as brainy as Shakespeare’s,” says the woman in charge of his costume – and then a wig over the top. Ahem. We all know it’s rude to stare, but passers-by are clearly thinking, “WTF? I’ve just seen a bloke dressed as Shakespeare astride a Santander bike.” In his 2012 memoir, Back Story, Mitchell writes, “Is it normal to feel you’re not normal but want to be normal? I think it probably is.”

I had been hoping to sit down and talk to Mitchell while he was dressed as Shakespeare, whom he resembles convincingly in the upcoming third series of Upstart Crow, a clever and funny BBC Two sitcom about the Bard’s family life, written by Ben Elton with precisely Mitchell in mind as Shakespeare, albeit a younger David Mitchell. “But they couldn’t find a younger me,” he says, “so they had to put up with me instead.”

But Mitchell is in mufti, a pair of crumpled chino-type trousers, brown shoes and a nondescript navy T-shirt with a collar. His hair is pretty much as it was when he was the young boy hiding behind the tree, a standard issue kid’s bowl cut combed into a parting. Although he still loves a bit of fancy dress, codpieces and doublets and the like (the bald cap can get a bit tight and uncomfortable after a long day filming, he concedes), clothes continue to cause him agony. For years, his mum bought them for him (through the Cambridge years and later still), but now it is a role that has befallen his poker-playing wife of six years, Victoria Coren Mitchell, herself a comedy panellist and writer. “I’m very happy to put them on,” he says of what she buys for him. “To be fair, she’s never tried anything …” he trails off, but I think he means “modern or cool”.

“It’s just a slightly tidier version of the sort of thing I was wearing before. She knows the one thing I want my clothing to be is unremarkable.” And then there is the unchanged haircut. Coren Mitchell must know which battles to pick. “Not because I like it, or hate it, but because to change it at any point would have provoked comment … That would have made me cringe,” he writes about keeping the cut. The beard has stayed, but he has admitted he would have razored it off if faced with protest.

For years, Mitchell’s identity, to the public at least, but also to himself during the dark days of ready meals and no girlfriends in his Kilburn flat (“contented squalor” is how he puts it ), has been inextricably linked with the fantastically well-drawn, tragic character of Mark Corrigan (written for him), whom he played in Peep Show. He starred alongside his comedy partner Robert Webb, who got the part of Jeremy, the much cooler and more sexually successful flatmate. They had been writers/performers since meeting at Cambridge, but Peep Show made them, bringing them to an audience beyond student comedy fans. The essence of Corrigan’s believability was the fact that the show’s main writers, Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong, based many bits of Corrigan on Mitchell himself: the nerdiness, the hopelessness in love, the pudding haircut, the clothes bought by his mother. But, Mitchell says, “The big difference between me and him – perhaps I am kidding myself – is that I’ve always been a fundamentally happier person, because he doesn’t know what he wants. For me, despite everything, for years not knowing if I was ever going to have a significant relationship, blah blah, the one thing I did know was that comedy was my crutch. Professionally at least, I’ve always had that source of hope and contentment.”

The deep irony of Mitchell’s life was that as his career, a dicey profession in any case, began to rocket, he was at his most emotionally desperate. After meeting Victoria Coren briefly at a drinks party (which she can’t remember) in 2007, he met her again at a film premiere. He writes in his autobiography Back Story, “I changed then. Everything that happened to me after that moment, even incidental things, are in a different context, a new world where different things matter.”

They dated briefly and he fell hopelessly in love with her. But timing was not on his side. Coren had lost her father and began seeing somebody else. She let Mitchell go honourably and kindly, what he calls “a reluctant brush-off”, but it broke his heart. He was sure there would never be anybody like her again. This inner melancholy fed into the character of Corrigan. In this respect, man and character were identical. He admits now that he told nobody about how dreadful he felt. “I didn’t talk about the state of my life to my friends,” he says. Journalists were always trying to fish around for comparisons with Corrigan. In 2009, when Mitchell was mourning the loss of Coren, on Desert Island Discs Kirsty Young talked about Robert Webb becoming a father. She asked Mitchell if he wanted that for himself. Mitchell said rather glumly, “I think I do.” There followed a white lie when he said, “I don’t think I have an ideal woman.” The fact was, he did.

Mitchell was not blind to the fact that he and Webb had had the most blessed career path, sprinkled with Baftas and endless opportunity: writing, acting and, for Mitchell, the panel shows The Unbelievable Truth and Would I Lie to You?. And so he felt his “wishes”, his luck, had been used up on his career. And then in 2010, Coren, like Princess Charming, came back into his life and suggested they try again. Reader, he married her two years later.

As Mitchell sits before me, he is beaming. “I’m trying not to look smug,” he says. “I feel very lucky. If I had thought that [asking her to marry me] would not have seemed mad earlier, I would definitely have done it. I am just incredibly proud that someone like Victoria wants to be with me. She has these amazing qualities, but fundamentally, we clicked. I fell in love with her. Being with her, it’s made me fundamentally more secure. A high percentage of the lurking terrors I felt for years, the things that I felt I’d failed to face up to as a proper human being, have gone.

“I do feel that there is someone in my life who I can say anything to. For years, I never talked about the things that worried me and now there is someone whom I trust, which creates a completely different context in which I can exist.”

Being loved, and loving, has taken away Mitchell’s profound sense of self-doubt. “I think I realise now that people judging me adversely, in superficial ways, doesn’t matter. Now I don’t mind looking a bit daft, like taking the bins out in my pyjamas. I don’t mind seeming like a bit of a twat any more. I don’t worry about projecting an image. There was a certain brittleness [before], and being worried about being laughed at in a way I was not in control of. I don’t really care much about that now.”

Do you take the bins out in your pyjamas?

“It has been known. I only wear my pyjamas all day if I have decided I’m ill. But I do think when I’m perfectly well I have always moved on to day clothes at some point.”

For diehard Peep Show fans reading this happy-ever-after fairy story and lamenting the replacement of their unhappy hero with a well-balanced, emotionally healthy middle-aged man who understands it’s good to get out of pyjamas before lunch, fear not. Mitchell confesses that having worried for years about not finding happiness, he now frets that somebody will take it away from him. Honestly! There’s no pleasing some.

“I’m a worrier,” he says. “I worry that something is going to go wrong. A horrific accident or an illness or, on a less serious level, a career mishap. I think that is probably how I avoid feeling guilty for being so lucky, that I worry that something is going to go wrong.

“I truly thought that because my career had worked out, maybe I didn’t get to have everything. And now I’m very happily married and I have a lovely daughter. I feel, ‘Hang on. Surely I’m luckier than I deserve?’ But that’s a definition of luck, isn’t it?”

Mitchell beams again. Their child is three and called Barbara. “She’s amazing. Extremely talkative and she likes imagining things, telling stories and being characters and explaining to me who she is in one of her stories.” Just think of the Coren Mitchell dressing-up box in their northwest London home. All those BBC codpieces and doublets knocking around for a second generation of bright dresser-uppers.

In the old days, Mitchell used daytime TV to procrastinate while writing. Now, it’s playing with Barbara and watching Peppa Peg and Hey Duggee. “A few minutes of feverish [work] activity followed by 45 minutes of time slipping through my fingers, some of that with Barbara.”

The announcement of Mitchell’s marriage brought astonishment beyond his close circle, for the fact that he and Coren seemed such an unlikely couple. But Mitchell says that he is similar to his wife (although he plays bridge, not poker). Both find the kind of socialising that comes with showbiz excruciating. They would by far prefer to stay at home with a DVD and supper on their knees. “I find places that are rife with acquaintances very stressful. I am not sure on what level to greet them. Do I hug them? Am I shaking hands? I sort of feel whatever I do will be wrong.

“Now, though, it’s nice going to a party [with Victoria] because you think, ‘We’re here; we’re in this room. It is a very high-stress moment, so let’s talk to each other for three minutes, catch our breath and then go, ‘OK, now we can go over there.’ Sometimes we separate or sometimes we just move together, depending on how confidence levels are going. At least eight times out of ten, I’d rather be watching a DVD and having some food in front of the telly. If you are happy at home, you’ve much less motivation to find the social confidence. You think. ‘Why are we even here? What’s the earliest point we can reasonably go?’ ”

In a year’s time, Mitchell will be thrust into the world of the school gate, a positive lion’s den of half acquaintances, small talk and necessary pleasantries with relative strangers, set against the backdrop of a bad day, or any anxiety going on about your child. “That genuinely hadn’t occurred to me,” he says, “but, yes, you are right. I remember that from being a child myself.” As he says, at least at parties there is alcohol to help everybody, other than “the minority of shark-like sociopaths who are very happy moving through the water while everyone else is sort of terrified”.

Mitchell’s relationship with Robert Webb is still strong, although their careers are more independent these days. “We’re closer friends now that we don’t work together so much. For several years it was incredibly intensive.”

Webb does not star in Upstart Crow, which, incidentally boasts Kenneth Branagh and Lily Cole in its final Christmas special. In the autumn, Mitchell is set to star in a film with Steve Coogan, yet to be officially confirmed, but he is back with Webb in the new year for the filming of another series of Back, the acclaimed TV series that reflects the old dynamic of their comedy partnership. Mitchell plays Stephen, a bitter son displaced by the return of his parents’ long-lost foster son, Andrew (Webb), and is eaten up by jealousy and inadequacy as Andrew seems to threaten his plans to take over the family business.

In his private life, Webb has been a good ten years ahead of Mitchell. Mitchell confesses that when Barbara was born, he took months off work. “Looking back, one of Rob’s children was born in the middle of a Peep Show shoot and he had an afternoon off and then a weekend, and then he was back filming on the Monday. I think I felt a sense of. ‘Oh, that must be quite difficult,’ but when I look back now, I go, ‘What? How did that work?’ I think I let him go through [becoming a father] without really reflecting on it. At the time, I was probably half-thinking, ‘What? He’s having a baby now, and we’ve got to get this shot.’ Only now have I allowed myself to realise, ‘Oh right. That was a massive moment [for him].’”

There are some jokes Mitchell has made in the past, particularly about children, that he would never write now. And he won’t read anything that makes him worry about the world Barbara will grow up in. “Victoria finds the dramatisation of a certain sort of horrific thing totally ceasing to be on any level of entertainment.” They did watch Broadchurch together, starring Mitchell’s close and long-term Cambridge friend Olivia Colman, but series one, about the murder of a child, was before Barbara’s birth.

Mitchell’s life has spun 180 degrees. Where once he was a relative loner – an only child for eight years – his private life is filled with people: nieces, nephews, brother and sister in-law, parents in-law. “I do enjoy it, but I also don’t know what your relationship with a cousin or an uncle or niece is supposed to be, so I’m learning that.

“I think in middle age, I am getting a sense of what a life is. I get the sense there is an arc, and if I see as many years again as I’ve seen already, I’m lucky. The life I had in Kilburn didn’t carry on for ever. I was ultimately unhappy and then something happened. I met Victoria. My life is totally different. I see that you can have periods of feeling completely unchanging and then a change will happen and can happen so many times, and then you die.”

Perhaps this is a maudlin element of Corrigan still lurking beneath? Loving Barbara as well as Victoria, Mitchell says, “I worry terribly that the world is terrifying in so many ways … There’s electricity and sharp corners and all of that, but also I want a world for Barbara to be secure and happy and prosperous in.”

If Mitchell once asked himself if it was normal to want to feel normal, well, aged 44, he might finally have got there.

[lolasimms]

a lots gonna change pt.13

Summary: Married life isn’t great, infidelity ensues and things change

This was written after I had two vodka crans and a few cigarettes…enjoy!

next chapter

"Did you have fun?" You walk over to Lila who is sat in Joel's arms.

"Yes, I caught a fishy today!" She exclaims, reaching down for you and you take her into your arms.

"She did a good job today" Joel laughs as he crosses his arms. His hair had grayed over the years no longer salt and pepper. He wore a Sherpa jacket and had his beard full grown.

"Ok baby, go get your bath things ready, you can shower in mommy's bathroom." She squeals in delight as you place her on the floor, heading up to your room.

"I hope she wasn't too much of a handful, can I get you something to drink?" You round the corner of the couch making way to the kitchen.

"Water would be nice, and no she was pretty good." You grab two waters from the refrigerator and hand him one as you sit on the arm of the sofa.

"So, your party's coming up in a few days, you excited?" Joel was turning 50 and for once he'd accepted a party he thrown for him. He wasn't a social guy but with his brother and the rest of the family's insistence he gave in.

"I ain't gon lie, not really" He takes a sip of the water and awkwardly smiles.

"Not keen on getting old or what?" You smirk and tilt your head and he just laughs at you.

"Not that part, the social part. You know I'm not a party kinda guy."

"Oh I think we all know you aren't a party kind of guy, but it's 50 Joel, only happens once."

"Yeah we'll, enough about me, how's Abigail?" You roll your eyes at his refusal to drop the formality.

"It's Abby and she's good." You can tell he wants to say something but he won't get on with it. "Joel just come on out with it"

"I wanted you to invite her, Abby."

"Really?"

"Yeah, y'all been together for a while, it's time she met Lila's family.

"I don't know how Ellie would feel about that, you know how she is."

"Doesn't matter how she feels, just invite her. Ellie's gotta learn to deal with it"

-

Your hands shook slightly, as you applied a coat of mascara onto your eyelashes. You placed the tube into your makeup bag and reached for your compact before powdering your face and making your way out of the bathroom. Sat on the hanger inside your wardrobe was the emerald green satin dress you and Dina had spent 3 hours searching for. You quickly slipped it on and shoved your feet inside a pair of spaghetti strapped heels, rolling your eyes at the loud and obnoxious music that was booming throughout the house.

"Lila, turn that off. I don't wanna hear that shit again" you yell. You make your way down to the living room where the 5 year old had the most annoying songs playing.

"Why, it's funny?" She quips with a smile, knowing it'll piss you off even more. You shake your head at her and roll your eyes.

"Alexa, turn off the music" you say with your arms crossed as you stare at your daughter. Challenging her to even dare try anything. She smirks at you, and you know you're in for a long day.

"Alexa, turn the music back on" she says and you shake your head at her stubbornness. You make your way over to her and she's already running up the staircase and slamming her room door shut.

"You need to put your shoes on and be ready in 5 minutes or else I'm calling Shay to come watch you" Immediately she's running down the staircase with her shoes in hand and readying herself. You knew the threat of leaving her with her babysitter would get her to comply.

"You're such a handful sometimes, I want you on your best behaviour tonight or else" you warn her as you look in the mirror, placing your earrings on.

"I'm not a handful" she groans and comes over to you with a hair tie and a brush. You sit her down and brush her coiled curls into a ponytail, while she rambles on about something that happened at school. You smile at her silly stories, she could be a handful but you loved her more than she knew.

-

"Mommy! Abby's here" Lila calls out to you and you rush out of the kitchen, phone in hand and purse tucked under your arms. You make your way to the front door where Lila is stood holding her grandpas gifts. Abby is stood leaning against the wall patiently waiting for you. You walk over to your girlfriend, placing a chaste kiss on her lips.

"Ewww, gross" Lila groans as she makes her way to the car. You both pull apart and laugh at her judgement. Abby smiles down at you and you do the same to her.

"I think she's grossed out by us" you say as you lock the front door. Abby simply laughs and walks you towards her car, she places Lila into her booster seat and then proceeds to open the passenger door for you. Ever the gentlewoman.

-

"Did you buy your grandpa a gift?" Abby asks, as she looks in the mirror to catch a glimpse at Lila.

"Mhm" she mumbles as she lifts up the gift bags and shakes them. You smile at her and shake your head.

"You bought it or mommy bought it?" You question and she huffs in annoyance causing you and Abby to smile.

"I put in some of my money from the swear jar, and you swore again today so you need to pay up" she says and Abby turns to you, a face of fake disappointment.

"Did you swear in-front of Lila again mommy?" She tuts and shakes her head as if she were disappointed in you. Causing Lila to quietly laugh. You roll your eyes, glad the two of them could get along.

-

The venue was held at an outdoor garden, fairy lights gracing the venue, a bar setup with special cocktails, the main table and a gift table, where you instructed Lila to go and place her grandpa's gifts. Joel would turn 50 today and you were tingling with nervousness as this would be the third time Abby would meet him and the first time she'd meet the rest of Ellie's family. At first you didn't want Abby coming with you as you didn't want to take attention away from the event but Joel had insisted you bring her.

"I can tell that you're nervous, you need to unwind, relax, take a deep breath" Abby says as she plucks two flutes of champagne from a servers tray and hands you one. You accept the drink, take a sip and nod.

"I know, I just need this to go well, I don't want to ruin his day. 50's a big deal and he deserves a peaceful party"

"You won't ruin anything baby, just breathe" She smiles and you do the same. Just as you're about to head to the table, Lila comes sprinting towards you.

Her hands are reaching out to you and you roll your eyes.

"Mommy carry me" she holds her arms up to you and you hand Abby your purse and pick the kid up.

"Fine, but you have to carry me next" you joke.

"I can't carry you, you're too tall"

-

Guests piled in and soon enough the table was filled with friends and family members. Joel had taken it upon himself to introduce Abby to the family and they were all quite welcoming. Joel's brother Tommy and his wife had arrived, playing with Lila and keeping her entertained. Yet there was no sign of Ellie. Lila was sat in between you and Abby, whining and moaning about the food. Your patience was wearing thin when finally she had fallen asleep in your arms, distracting you from being able to eat. Abby took it upon herself to sit the child on her lap so you could eat and have a few drinks without the distraction. Soon enough you were feeling way more relaxed and found yourself enjoying the party.

Around the time that the first course had been served is when Ellie had finally showed up. Her auburn hair half tied into a bun, while the rest laid against her shoulders. She wore a black dress shirt and a pair of black trousers to match. Her eyes met yours and then landed on Abby's, you assume Joel hadn't told her about the guest as she looked quite surprised.

Ellie made her way over to where you were seated and stroked Lila's hair, causing the now half-asleep child to squint up and spot her mother.

"Hi momma" she said sleepily, still in Abby's arms as she slowly drifted back to sleep. Ellie smiles and greets her with a peck and a small "Hi honey" She shakes Abby's free hand firmly and you give her a half-assed wave, before turning your attention back to your food. You felt Abby's hand land on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. You knew it was her way of reassuring you everything was okay. You were still guilty about the kiss with Ellie but Abby had done everything to reassure you she trusted you.

-

"She can sit with me now" Ellie whispers to Abby midway through the dinner, as Lila had been half asleep for over an hour now. Most likely tired out from all the playing she had done in the afternoon. Abby looks down at Lila and asks if she'd like to sit with her mom to which she whines and insists on sleeping where she was. You knew Lila had nothing against Ellie and if she weren't half asleep she'd happily sit with her, but children were just fussy like that when their sleep was interrupted. Unfortunately you knew Ellie too well, her anger issues wouldn't allow her to see past logic and any minute now she'd take this personally against Abby.

"She's probably just tired" Abby tries to ease the awkwardness by giving the excuse, however the damage has already been done and Ellie is pissed.

Everyone on the table chews their food and downs their drinks in silence, as the awkwardness of the interaction becomes too hard to watch. Tommy and Maria share knowing glances and Joel visibly tenses up. You take a sip of your cocktail praying the interaction was over when you hear Ellie's voice once again.

"Just hand her over to me." She stares Abby down and you swallow your drink, fearful of what was to come.

"She's clearly exhausted, what's the harm in letting her sleep here, I don't see the problem." Abby mutters as she looks from you to Ellie.

"Y/n?" Ellie calls out to you, her tone icy.

"What?" You question, looking her dead in the eye.

"You just going to sit there and watch or?"

"You're making a scene, can you stop" you say lowly, though no difference in your volume could take the the entire tables focus off the three of you, this was exactly what you didn't want to happen tonight. You couldn't believe this was the same Ellie who got high with you in a school parking lot and fed you vending machine candy no less than a week ago.

"I'm making a scene? I don't even know why you brought this bitch here" Abby's eyes raise to make eye contact with Ellie and you immediately get up from your seat having had enough. Ellie wastes no time before she's trailing behind you.

"What's bitch?" Lila questions sleepily , having been awoken from the bickering and Joel grumbles. Not only at the corruption of his granddaughter but at  the blatant display of childishness being put on show.

"It's nothing, don't repeat it" Tommy says looking at Lila with serious eyes.

-

Just as you make your way away from the table, Ellie follows you deeper into the garden. You turn to face her and immediately roll your eyes.

"Why can't you just be civil, this was meant to be Joel's night and you ruined it" you exclaim, pointing your finger at her.

"Why did you bring her here Y/n, was it to spite me?" She questions ignoring what you had just said.

"You're seriously worried about her, it's been 2 years, we're over get over yourself." She scoffs at you and begins to pace.

"I can't believe you, of all the people it had to be her, couldn't you find someone else, honestly?"

"Ellie let me remind you that you're the one who cheated on me, you're the reason our marriage ended. Abby was there for me,  so you don't get to dictate or pass judgment over who I can or cannot see."

"Baby I told you that I'm getting you back, why can't you just let me in?" You roll your eyes at her weak attempt when she takes your hand in hers.

"Let go of her" Abby calls from behind her and you knew this wasn't going to end well.

"Fuck off would you, this has nothing to do with you" Ellie turns to her, getting all up in her space trying to intimidate her.

"It does Ellie, I'd like to do this the easy way. You stop trying to seduce my girl and I show you respect you."

"Your girl? She's my fucking wife"

"Ellie that's enough, just stop." You try to get in between them but Ellie persists on getting in Abby's face.

"Ex-wife, for a reason,  you recall cheating on her don't you? Because I'm sure the rest of us remember you doing that." Abby's words are enough for Ellie to swing a harsh punch against her jaw.

Immediately the two of them are throwing punches left right and centre and your mind blanks for a second. You try coming in between them but there is no use. Abby's arms are on Ellie's shoulders as she attempts to push her to the ground, while Ellie's are on Abby's waist as she shoves her repeatedly.

"Abby stop it" you try pulling her away from Ellie but she's too engrossed in the fight to hear you. Not to mention the fact that she's way out of your strength leagues.

"You fucking kissed her, who do you think you are?" Abby lands a blow on Ellie's cheek.

"She's going to leave you for me, watch and see" Ellie forces through groans, landing a punch on Abby's face.

Some staff of the restaurant notice the fight and immediately come in between the women to stop it. They must've been louder than you'd expected as Joel, Tommy and a few others from the table had heard the commotion and came running. Once you'd seen that they had both stopped fighting you headed off to get your daughter and leave. You didn't want to speak to either of them.

-

Much to Joel's dismay you decided to turn in for the night, Lila was tired and quite frankly so were you. Abby offered to drive the three of you home, after profusely apologising about what had taken place tonight. You rejected her offer and decided to take an Uber instead, you weren't dealing with her or Ellie at the moment. As you grabbed your things to leave, you spotJoel yelling at Ellie in the corner, as she ices her knuckles with a small glass filled with ice cubes. Her face was already bruising and her lip was busted. You were glad Lila was still asleep, not wanting her to see any of this.

"Baby?" You feel Abby's fingers tap your shoulder as you're stood outside the venue holding Lila, your Uber was arriving any minute now.

"I don't feel like talking right now, go home Abs"

taglist;

@moonlightdivine @maybe-cece @macaroni676 @sawaagyapong @katiemars @ellieseater @dakota-dream @joliettes @hebrokeimup @bratydoll @wakasaaa a @catostrophiclesbian @dinas-a-bird @lazyunknownwerewolf @h3sitant-alien @ceo-of-ellie-simps @mechetegirl109 @kashoot-me269 @lonelyfooryouonly @ellieswifee @doodlebob-mp3

[celestialspecial]

A Song of Sirens

You’d been watching him for months now. He moved with a grace that most humans lacked. Lifting and hoisting and moving heavy objects with ease.

He walked along the deck effortlessly, sea legs someone had called it. The rocking motion of the boat in the swells of the ocean but he held firm.

You’d been warned of coming too close to shore, to be wary of the docks where men kept their ships. But it was all so big and bright and tantalizing. Shouts and laughter rang out between the men.

Ropes were tossed and engines were cleaned. You recognized some of the vessels that you had seen tackle the open ocean. The port side town was bustling this time of the year.

Keeping your head just below the surface, praying a stray beam of sun didn’t catch in a way to glimmer across your scales. It was usually cloudy and gray here, but that didn’t seem to dampen spirits.

You’d even hear the fisherman sing joyful tunes when out on the sea. Whistling, notes being played on some manner of instrument and loud boisterous voices echoing out into the blackness of the night.

When it was so dark that the sky and sea seemed to blend together, like a painter foregoing use of color at all save for the white specks of stars gleaming in the sky.

You swam just under one of the docks, shadows skimmed over your face as boots clunked above you dimming out the light with their movement towards one of the larger boats docked there.

The Sirens Splendor was painted across the side in bright green lettering. A full team of men tossing rations, rope, and wooden boxes onto the deck. You let your arms drape around the side of a supporting beam bolstering the deck.

Eyes darting to examine every man aboard, you’d been watching this ship for long enough. Recognizing the voices, matching the faces. The captain strode forward yelling to a crew member about something.

He was stocky, tall, with close cropped dark hair and a nose that looked like it had broken once or twice. The men fell in line immediately at his call and movement picked up aboard.

You had begun to learn their fishing schedule, what fish they went out for specifically each time, for how many days they were at sea. Your curiosity had been piqued.

The days would be long, and you were just an observer. Swimming along but always staying far enough away that there was no chance of you being snagged in their nets or baskets. 

Of course you’d been reprimanded by your family for straying too close. For your new obsession with the humans that just hadn’t been there before. 

Or maybe it always had been there but you’d ignored it for so long that it reared up with a renewed fury.

Consuming your every thought, you had swam to the small fishing town multiple times and every time there was something new to see. Something new to learn. How you ached to ask your questions to one of them.

To speak with a human, would be quite an adventure. 

“All right men, sooner we move out, sooner we can be home.” The captain had a gruff voice but it carried across the harbor, cutting through the wind that was picking up.

More sounds of shuffling and then he came into view. Tall, taller than the captain and leaner but sturdy as well. You’d seen him stand in place as intimidating waves had crashed into the side of the boat.

A shock of dark hair and grown out scruff, not quite a beard like other crew members. Climbing from below deck and tossing a large metal basket off to the side before resuming his place next to the captain.

You didn’t realize how shallow your breathing had become, fingers tightening on the support pole. Eyes never leaving his face. One of the crew member must have said something funny cause a loud laugh rang out from him.

It was like something in your chest melted. Watching his dark eyes crinkle with mirth and a raised hand to block the stray ray of sunlight from his face. 

He turned and exchanged words with the captain who nodded, turning on a heel and making his way into the wheelhouse.

“Take her out boys!” His voice rang out, clear and melodious to your ears. A chorus of calls echoed back to him and you didn’t miss the twitch of his lips, the subtle hint of a dimple on his cheek.

As you watched the boat pull out, leaving the safety of the harbor and out into the murky colored water before them, your heart begged you to follow. Relaxing your grasp and diving deep below as fast as your tail would carry you.

Watching the bubbles and feeling the current from the boat brush along your face like a lovers caress. Come, follow me. Come.

Picking up pace as you noticed the engine heaving overtime carrying them further and further out to sea. Night was beginning to fall and the last slashes of sunlight broke through the gathering clouds.

The bright rays danced across the ever moving surface, sparkling crystals against a backdrop of navy. Surfacing briefly to see how much farther you had to catch up  and panting realizing how far away they were still.

Humans and their machines. You cursed to yourself and dove once more, hoping to catch an undercurrent that would shoot your closer to them. 

The water deepened as the sun had finally set and your eyes adjusted to the dimness.

Fish swam around you, darting off in this direction and that. Some unknowingly swimming towards the ship as well. The ocean felt icier in the dark. 

Beautiful and dangerous. And yet these men braved it. Did it call to them like it did you? Was it as much a part of them as the merpeople below? If only you could ask them…

It felt like eons that you attempted to keep pace, heart beating rapidly in your chest, your body growing sore, dying to stop. Fate apparently listened to your pleas because you could see the boat slowing.

A metallic clunk and grinding sound cut through the water as you watched a large anchor lowering through the depths ahead of you. Looking up towards the surface, wondering if it was dark enough that you could peak out unseen.

You could almost hear your older sister’s scolding at how stupid you were being. How humans were dangerous and to stay as far away from them as possible.

 Shaking your head as if to remove her scathing words from your mind, instead swimming as close to the boat as you could get.

Touching the hull, hands dragging along the surface, edging closer and closer to where the air met the water. Camouflaged by darkness and being so close to the  vessel, only someone deliberately looking would find you.

Ears straining to hear what was being said. Something about good fishing weather and a moving towards the Bering sea. 

Then you heard his voice, not being able to make out what he was saying but the men seemed to agree with him.

The waves picked up, jostling you from your spot and nearly taking you back out to open water. Your tail thrashed to propel you forward once more, this time choosing to take hold of the anchor chain.

You cringed at the loud slap your tail made against the next crash of water.

“Sounds like the weather is picking up.” It was him. You bit your lip as you heard movement, footsteps walking right to where you were. 

You crowded as close to boat as you could, knowing if you made an escape now you’d surely be seen. Venturing a glance upwards you saw his face as close as you’d ever seen it.

He was beautiful.

A firm square jaw, a muscle ticking on the side as he stared out at the ever increasing white caps. A gust of wind carried across the deck further mussing his tousled brown hair. 

You didn’t realize how tightly you were holding the anchor chain as you leaned forward, just to see his eyes better. 

They were dark. Like the sea at night. Focused purely on the water before him. 

“How’s it lookin’ Bill?” Another voice. The captain you assumed.

You watched his throat work, fingers that had been clutching the side of the boat released and gave a few wary taps on the wood.

“Looks rough, captain. We may be in for a long night.”

“Perfect.” But you could tell from the inflection in his voice, that it was in fact, not perfect. “We’d better make sure rigging and the engine are in shape should we need to head back.” 

You listened to more movements throughout the boat, feeling it begin to rock more steadily with the waves. A few forks of lightning stretched across the sky off in the distance. 

Eventually it began to grow silent and you realized they had probably gone to sleep. Feeling a growing sense of disappointment, realizing you’d had to go home and be left to wonder about their fishing trip.

Then a voice rang out. No. Sang out. A lyrical tune that carried on the wind and into your ears. A pleasant tone.

Then another voice joined in and then another. Soon you could hear laughter and the growing swell of the sea shanty from above deck. One man sang a verse while the others responded with some sort of refrain.

You wished you could see them, instead having to imagine them, their faces, as they sang. Then you heard his voice sing out. 

What had the captain called him? Bill. 

He sang another verse of the song. While it sounded upbeat in melody the words were melancholy. His voice, strong and clear.

Of course it was as beautiful as his face. 

You closed your eyes listening to the song as it morphed into another tune then another after that. 

You had drifted into some fantasy in your head, dreaming of joining along with them, standing on deck by their sides. Then the shouting began.

Eyes popping open wildly you noticed how much the boat had started to sway dangerously close to the water, back and forth. Pummeled by wave after wave. 

It had been a steady stream of movement before but now it picked up erratically , as if out of nowhere. Calls of the men to one another became harder and harder to hear as the wind and ocean drowned out all sound.

A small gap lay between the edge of the boat and the deck and if you could just peer into it you could see what was happening.

The captains voice called out, shouting orders and it didn’t escape your notice the slight frantic tone to it. Another wave struck the side of the ship, it groaned as it tilted to the side.

Hoisting yourself as best you could to the lip of the opening, catching feet running past. The fisherman had begun to move into the most sheltered areas, but water quickly claimed anything that wasn’t tied down.

“Smith make sure the cargo is secure!” At that you noticed a smaller man, no, a young boy running towards one of the large wooden crates that was sliding freely across the deck. 

He couldn’t be over the age of 17. Lean and much less experienced than the other men aboard.

He struggled with the ropes, hands slipping and losing balance frequently.

“Hold on!” Bill had shouted, pushing off from where he’d been holding tight to the stairs leading to the wheelhouse. Rushing over to help the boy. 

“Everyone else below deck! Hold onto something!” The captain screamed against the whipping wind as another wave sprayed mist, blanketing the already slippery deck surface. 

Bill had helped secure the crate, wedging it between two others and tying an intricate knot to hold them firmly. Smith had tied one of the other loose boxes down.

“Smith, Billy, get the hell inside!” The boat creaked and shuddered at the onslaught of waves. The water seemed more white and rushing as the waves crested higher around then. 

The two had started making their way back to the safety underneath until Smith lost his footing, sliding, knees hitting the decks surface with a crack. 

Billy turned, seeing the boy barely able to stand, running back towards him. Another wall of water crashed into the vessel knocking them both off kilter.

You saw one of the crates break free, the one the boy had tied down, apparently not good enough. Billy had seen it too, as the large object moved with deadly speed towards the young boy.

You wanted to scream to look out, noticing another rogue wave gearing up, moving towards the boat like a shark to an unsuspecting guppy.

The crate sped towards Smith but Billy rushed forward, pushing the boy with all his might, sending him sprawling backwards into a pile of ropes on deck.

Why happened next felt like it moved in slow motion to you. 

The full blunt force of the crate hit Bill head on, knocking the wind out of him. Then the largest wave you’d seen yet smashed into the side of the boat, swirling across the deck and taking the box and Billy with it over the side.

Pulling back just in time from the gap you’d been looking through, you watched him soar past you into the frothy mixture of sea below. The cargo box had struck him dead center of his chest, pushing him into the drink like an anchor of its own.

A high pitched ringing sounded in your ears, the shouts from the men above seemed so far away. And then you were jumping into the murky deep yourself.

It was so dark and so cold. Even for you. You couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be a human, to have the air ripped from your lungs. 

Your tail propelled you forward, the ache in your limbs from your earlier swim long forgotten. Pushing faster and faster. The white of his shirt and the light color of his skin was all you could see.

He would surely die if you didn’t get to him. His eyes were closed, bubbles leaving his lips, the box crushing him as they both plummeted to the ocean floor.

With some unknown strength you managed to get close enough to him to grasp his shirt, taking hold of him arm and pulling with all your might. Your fingers and muscles screamed in retaliation.

Panicking, wondering if this would be a fruitless effort. The man you’d been entranced with for months, dead because you’d failed. The ocean had failed you. 

But then you got purchase on his torso, tearing him free from the crate that continued its downward descent. Rushing you both towards the surface as fast as you could.

Everything was black, until it wasn’t. Breaking free of the surface and somehow managing to hold him upright, his head slung off to the side. 

Pushing the soaked-through strands of hair away from his face, wondering if he was breathing. How did you get him to breathe?

None of that would matter if you both didn’t get out of this storm. The fishing boat was so far away now. Shrinking in the distance, further and further away. 

So you turned tail and did all that you could. Start swimming you both to shore.

It took hours to get back. The storm splashing water into both your faces, struggling to keep him above the surface. It had felt so much faster when you could dive underwater and just swim.

His eyes remained shut, maybe he was already dead. Why did that thought cause a huge knot in your throat? 

You barely even knew him. He’d been a pretty surface dweller that captured your attention and nothing more.

Arranging his body to drape an arm over your shoulder to keep him from slipping you pressed your face into his neck. 

Hoping to get a better hold of him, but then you felt that fluttering of a pulse right by his jaw. He was alive.

Relief washed over you just like the waves that surrounded the two of you. A renewed strength entering your bones. Pushing forward, knowing it wasn’t all for nothing. You wouldn’t let it be.

You could cry at the sight of land. Then a few tears did escape when you tossed both your bodies onto the shore. Sand caking to your skin and hair, seaweed clinging to one of Billy’s legs.

It felt like the muscle in your chest would explode. Either out of pride that you’d done it, or the tiredness because…you’d done it. 

Regardless you both were on land. You’d saved him. You watched his chest rise and fall. Water dribbling out of his mouth at the corners. 

You wanted to do something else, help him somehow but you were just so tired. Your heart raced as you reached out and touched his hand. It was so cold.

The ocean had been frigid, but where one of his boots slipped off, there didn��t seem to be any sign that something was amiss. 

Crawling across the sand until you were right next to him, huddling closer, hoping your warmth would seep into him. Heal him in some foreign way you weren’t privy to.

As you rested your head on your arm, gazing up at him, wondering what had brought you to this moment. When your sisters heard about this…that you’d rescued a human-

Your older sister would disown you. You’d probably be a hero to the younger one. You huffed out a laugh as best you could at that. 

Then a sudden shift and you heard him make a noise. You froze in place. It sounded like a groan but then he went still again. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

Returning to look upon him, your fingers itched to touch his face. To feel the scratch of his scruff against the soft pads on your hands. To wipe the salty water from his brow.

Raising a hand to hover it over him. Why were you shaking? 

Smoothing back a few locks of his hair, enjoying how they felt between your fingers. You couldn’t help but wonder how they felt dry. Letting your hand graze further down, drawing a line along the length of his nose.

His skin was smooth, unmarred from scars or blemishes. The tantalizing brush of hair that coated his face danced along your nerve endings.

You yearned to know what he smelled like when he wasn’t coated in saltwater. Your eyes drifted down following your hand. On his neck the steady thrum of a pulse set your mind at ease.

His shirt had been torn, buttons ripped away from when you pulled him free of the crate. The smooth plane of his chest was on display for you freely. 

Touching him was intoxicating. Hand pressed to the center of his chest where his heart beat, the only feeling of warmth in the center, hopefully spreading to the rest of his body.

You watched your hand on his chest, rising and falling rhythmically. Unable to believe you were even touching him. Entranced by the movement. Up. Down.

“Billy.” You said aloud, enjoying the taste of it on your tongue. Feeling his heart steady and constant beneath your fingertips.

You could fall asleep, the tiredness setting in as the adrenaline wore off. Heavy lidded eyes moved from your hand on his chest drifting lazily back up to his face.

Where his eyes were open. 

Icy fear shot through your entire body, pulling your hand away immediately like it’d been electrocuted. 

Moving as fast as your poor body would take you, sand spraying in your wake as you dove back into the water, disappearing beneath the surface once more.

Billy had pushed up from where he lay, flexing his hands experimentally, dragging one over his face. Fists rubbing into his eyes as he blinked out towards the water.

He should be dead. But he wasn’t. Maybe he had died for a moment because what he had just seen…no one would believe him. 

Swallowed too much seawater they’d say. Except for maybe Frank. He’d been on these waters for far longer than all of them. Seen so many things. 

A soft splash and rivulets of water shot into the air followed by a glistening green tail, breaking the now calmed waters surface. 

So it was real.

He was alive. A mermaid had saved him.

You swam far enough out that you were sure he couldn’t see you in the inky black night, but your enhanced vision allowed you to see him.

He remained seated on the beach, staring out at the water. But not just at the water, it seemed, it felt, like he was looking right at you. 

And so you looked back. Certain all he saw was darkness and yet it felt comforting, exhilarating even, to see and be seen. 

Maybe this is all it was. And maybe it was something more.

[kyberphilosopher]

Pass the Dutchie

Word Count: 7908 Requested: Nah Warning[s]: 4/20 special, so drug and substance abuse, crude language, crude humor, adult themes, not my strongest piece ever probably, long, Billy sticks to character sorry, general fanfiction cringe warnings. When Billy assumes you might sell to him, you get back at him by stealing his stash. But after you realize he's not so unbearable, your relationship with each other, and even yourselves, seems to change.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The summer months came quickly, even quicker than the actual summer. The crisp April morning, tainted with spring rain that left the reek of petrichor hanging in the air for the rest of the day, had given way to a dry and beating heat. Not enough to make you sweat, but enough to fill the school with shorts and skirts over the typical swarm of bell bottoms. You almost felt like you'd missed the memo that day in your own denim jeans, but you were comfortable, and that was what mattered.

You wouldn't miss highschool, you thought, but you might miss senior year. By now, everyone around you had almost completely grown out of bullying. Why continue it? Everyone was about to graduate. You were all adults now. There was no point in nastiness. Mostly, it seemed your class had a fondness for sex and drugs and rock n' roll and not much else. There wasn't much to complain about there. All the popular kids were too wrapped up in all that to harass you at work anymore, or to spread rumors that you were a drug supplier and addict. You're more than thankful for that as you stare at the bouncing, burnt orange basketball being dribbled up the court by Billy Hargrove.

A gust of outside air sweeps through the highschool gymnasium from the double doors to your left. Sunshine leaks through the gap, straining your eyes when you look at it. It makes the rest of the gymnasium appear shadowed in a darker and far more boring grey than it really was. It might've looked exceptionally creepy if it weren't for the few kids such as yourself who decorated the bleachers, and the group of boys playing basketball just a few steps away. The students gave the school a bustling, warm atmosphere that you were more than willing to admit to now that you'd outgrown a lot of your younger angst and cynicism. The air from through the doors smells like your childhood- and something else in the distance.

"Yo, Y/N," a voice from behind you calls.

You let your eyes fall closed in instant exhaustion as you exhale a breath. You already know who it is. "Yeah?" you practically wince.

Ronnie Waters slithers up beside your ear like a snake. You don't hate him- he's funny sometimes. Sometimes. What, with his mousy mullet and sparce beard hairs around his crooked teeth, but mostly he likes just yanking your chain. "Smell that?" he questions, chip breath hitting your nose like a freight train. "Smells like dope outside, man. You gonna celebrate the 20th this year? You selling?"

A common misconception. You'd first smoked pot in the girls bathroom sophomore year and ended up getting busted- without the three other girls who had been smoking the blunt with you. You were quickly labeled as a pothead since then, which snowballed into being a full blown dealer in junior year. Funny how everyone who had previously never spoken a word to you, now threw themselves at your feet for some bud. Sometimes you'd play the prank of handing them a bag of oregano, but for most people, the answer was the same: 'Not selling.'

"I don't sell," you tell Ronnie, not even bothering to look over at him. He still hovers by your side like a bee.

"Come on," Ronnie whines and prods. "I just need some flower for the 20th... please?"

You turn towards him, tone becoming firmer but not angry. "I don't sell."

Ronnie pouts a frog faced frown, mutters a "whatever bro", and slithers away back to his group of snickering friends at the top of the bleachers. Your eyes turn back to the basketball game ahead of you, not really invested, just in time to watch Billy Hargrove dunk a clean one over Steve Harrington's head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Ronnie Waters wasn't the only one who prodded you for an April 20th deal. Back in the locker room, Connie Rachel tossed her blond curls over her shoulder before batting her eyes and taking a 20 out of her bra. You'd felt bad about rejecting it.

Most seniors had partial days from completing all their required credits early on, leaving little classes in the days for them. You were one of the lucky ones who made the cut, which had honestly helped your fondness for senior year. The freedom you felt hopping in your car, waving a polite and quiet goodbye to your fellow classmates was a dignified one. Ronnie Waters, the little rat face, couldn't take it from you. Your feet pick up the pace as you exit the building, rounding the brick corner, converse to asphalt.

It did feel like summer. The sun, the wind, the scent of rain and flowers. The great boulder that jumped out at you causing you to flinch back.

You stumble a few steps, raising your head to see in front of you. Then your brows crease. It was no brick boulder at all, it was just Billy Hargrove. Well, you supposed that was the same thing. He certainly was a great rock of a man.

You weren't close by any means- you know each other by few interactions and by name. You don't hate him, you don't love him. You've seen him break Tommy's kegstand record and become Keg King, shove freshman to the ground in PE, and charm the teacher out of actually teaching the class through pure flirtation. So, he seemed fine in your book. A very upstanding young man.

"Woah," Billy smiles charmingly- a smile you've seen him use before on others- and an annoyance bubbles in anticipation. "Hey there. Watch where you're goin' much?"

You just want to get to your car. You can see the cherry red paint from here, glistening in the sun. But it won't be so easy. Billy Hargrove was pretty popular. Obeying to highschool politics, you couldn't really be rude to him without him using his influence to tarnish your reputation. In a small town like Hawkins, that was certainly something to consider. When Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington had called it quits, he'd plastered her name all over the Hawkins movie theater, complete with profanities. Not only that, but you were fairly unpopular. You didn't have any close friends who could come and save you out of nowhere, or even defend your honor. Now, you weren't hated by any means. But you were a loser. This was just one of the cons of being so.

"I'm just heading to my car," you get out.

Billy looks you up and down, still smirking. You hate it. You could tell what he's thinking from his mouth alone. "Red one, right? The 79'? Nice ride."

So, he's watching you in the parking lot now?

"Thanks."

A minute of silence. A breeze, similar to the gusts in the gymnasium earlier, sweeps through the air. It turns back to spring within the instant, rustling Billy Hargrove's cinnamon brown curls. His eyes light up in the sun like ocean water, rippling and dancing florescently with every movement. He looks nice for a moment, almost boyish with his dimples and muscle tee, still sweaty from the free period gym.

"I heard you might have something I'm looking for," he says. "I was hoping to maybe take it off ya', if ya' catch my drift."

Your eyes flit around the scene. You see the other seniors walking towards their cars ahead of you, pulling out of the parking lot, some disappearing into the trees nearby in walking groups. Did Billy have enough credits to be on a partial schedule? You could've sworn you'd seen him pull out of the parking lot at the same time as yourself a couple times, but he'd been a transfer student. He should've still been catching up technically.

You answer him very calmly, tiredly, monotone. "What's your drift?"

Billy's smile fades, his eyes returning to a wide shape as his face sinks. Another blow from the wind makes his curls dance. His maroon shirt ripples, tanned skin shining. You hadn't seen many men that were quite like him, you realized-whatever you meant by that. When Billy Hargrove doesn't answer you, you question again. "What's your drift, Billy?"

His face is stone, as you're reminded. Billy's tone is a little more annoyed, in his voice and on his face. He must never have been challenged, dared, outright shut down many times in his life. "I wanna buy some dope."

Should you give him a bag of oregano? Tell him you'll come by later and leave it out on his doorstep? Maybe drop a crumb of the real thing in it so it smells just right? You rub your palm up and down the strap of your backpack, thinking. Billy Hargrove sees as you look him up and down. He resembles an angry bull, you the matador. Should you?

"I don't sell," you say, looking down at the pavement under you. "You'd have bought from me already if I did."

You start walking once more, keeping your eyes down. You can hear the younger kids playing in the fields, the other grades practicing soccer, the cars leaving the lot blasting Scorpions and Madonna. Billy says nothing as you shuffle your way past him. He doesn't say anything until you're a few steps up the hill from him.

"I don't believe you!"

You roll your eyes and walk faster, worried suddenly that you may be run down by a familiar Camero.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Billy Hargrove wasn't great, you knew that. But Billy was far, far from the worst. He was cool, you liked him. You wanted to be out of highschool as fast as possible, which kept you from holding grudges or holding hatred. Billy was probably the same way about it at this point. But man, man, oh man- oh, man- did you find yourself wanting to put Billy Hargrove in a room with no windows or doors alone. The little prick really thought he could charm his way into some weed- weed you don't even possess. You've been buying your shit from the super senior Eddie Munson since last summer. It's all based on one nasty rumor.

Billy Hargrove was smart enough to see that certainly. Yet, he chose not to for his own ideas. He knows it is a nasty rumor but plays into it anyway. Why? Because he wants to? Because he has to? Neither? Both? Maybe you should've knocked that smile right off his face. Once for thinking you'd be easily manipulated, and twice for really accusing you of dealing.

No, perhaps not.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The next day was smoother. Air conditioning wouldn't be brought into schools for another few years, making the school hot and stuffy, but the library was so empty it was cooler. You spent your free period there instead of the gym, doing nothing of great importance. The joint you had in your car at lunch break was mostly faded from your system. With 4/20 right around the corner, you would need more. It was in- what? A week? The nug you had sitting in a carefully wrapped napkin in the cup holder was a rather small nug.

Eddie would have a sale. You knew that much at least. Of course, that's what you're thinking of when you see him standing by your locker.

Not Eddie, of course. His hair is too light, arms too thick, body too tall. Eddie would never carry such a natural and tired smugness to his face. As soon as you see Billy leaning against it, you feel your heart drop to your stomach. An odd anxiety washes over you, one you're not quite familiar with. But Billy hasn't seen you yet- you could turn around and walk away. You can wait it out in your car and circle back for your things.

You don't do that.

"Locker," you only say to Billy after he notices you approaching. That's all you need to say apparently, as he slides his back from its position against your metal box.

"You're a charmer, aren't you?" Billy says sarcastically, a bored expression on his face. "Very chatty."

You open the door and slide your backpack from your person, twisting it around so you can switch out a few books and grab your jacket and keys. "What do you need Billy?" you ask tiredly, wrapping your oversized hunting jacket around your shoulders and adjusting the hood.

He looks you up and down, but not lustfully. Just observantly. Judgmentally, somewhere in there. Billy's eyebrows are creased in a dull annoyance you recognize on him. He is the stone man you think of. You wonder, are his lips always so ever so slightly pursed when he's thinking? Or is that just the natural, bitchy look of his face? His handsome doll face. "Can I help you?" you repeat.

Billy's ocean blue eyes land back on yours. Through the dark eyebrows, they create a strong contrast. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday," the boy drawls out. But... he feels genuine. "Maybe I was a little too aggressive. With the 20th coming up I think it's easy to understand why I might be a lil' antsy."

You blink.

"Walk out to m' car with me. I'll treat you to a sesh."

You blink again, harder this time. Then you blink again, slightly faster. Billy's lips are in a thin and serious line. You realize, somewhere in the moment, that he has this disposition with you because you saw through his guise of charisma. He saw he couldn't get in your pants and let that way go. This must be the realest Billy's been to anyone since he arrived at Hawkins high.

Your fingers find the door of the locker, close, and lock it. Then you follow Billy, you slightly behind him at his side, to his car. The air smells like leaves and grass. "You're not stopping at your locker?"

Billy's tone is slightly more exasperated than usual. "Why would I?"

You say nothing.

Through the parking lot, you catch a few stares. Billy was just so popular- you should've known you'd see at least one pair of girls giggling. You watch as he unlocks his car- a blue 79' Chevrolet Camero, and the two of you bend inside in unison. Even your doors close at the same time.

Billy Hargrove's car smells like a mix of several, but very recognizable, smells. A musky cologne, the familiar stench of weed, cigarettes... sweat? Must've been old workout clothes littered somewhere in the car.

Billy Hargrove's head rolls over to you, the back of his pretty mullet getting mussed against the headrest.

"Nice car," you offer dryly.

Billy is still stone, offering no reaction to your words. "I apologize for yesterday. Open the glovebox."

An apathetic sounding apology directly followed by an order. How charming.

Still, curiosity overpowers everything else. Your hands do as the man says, undoing the glovebox and letting it fall open. It's stuffed to the brim inside, random papers spilling all over your feet. A single loose cigarette joins them. "Pick that up," Billy Hargrove tells you, though he doesn't sound so stern or demanding just then.

"The papers?" You begin to gather a few of them up- just a few statements about the vehicle and math papers that must've never found their way to the teacher.

"Nah," Billy gestures towards the white and orange cylinder. "Just the cig'."

You're slightly flabbergasted, but quickly muffle the feeling with, indeed, leaving the papers on the floor and instead offering him the cig between two fingers. Billy slips it into his mouth and lets it hang towards the side, as you're sure he's done a thousand times over already. "There's a lil' plastic baggie in there," Billy continues. "Get it."

Turning attention back towards the glovebox, you root around for a second or two before finding it. Instantly, you know what's inside. Pulling it out into the light only confirms your suspicions, if you could even call it that. You're careful to keep it low and out of sight through the windows, deciding to sit it on the surface between you two.

The bag has to contain two 1/8's, minimum. Inside, the bag does little to contain the stench of the dope, which is somehow strong enough to make you feel a little buzzed just looking at it. Most of the nugs inside are a dark green- but there's more colors than just that. Lime green, deep purple that's practically black. When Billy Hargrove picks up his bag of goodies after a classic man-spits-loogie-out-the-car-window move, the nug he picks out is a forest green with tiny orange veins running up it, spreading all around.

"Having a sesh?" you question, somewhat quietly, all while keeping your eyes fixated on the nug.

"Yeah," Billy rolls the nugget over in his fingers. His eyes are stuck on it too, making him sound just as far away as you are. "If that's cool?"

You mutter a response with only half a thought to it. "Reeks like shit."

Billy Hargrove's nostrils flare, and he rolls his head along with his eyes back over to you. It's brief, however, as he quickly rolls them back ahead. With his right hand, he leans forward to snatch a pack of rolling papers from the dashboard. "Fuck outta my car then," he mumbles.

Your reply is immediate: "No."

Billy Hargrove's mouth curves up into a smile as he scoffs. "Alright," he starts, his voice devoid of all anger. "Hold this. Now, this is the shit from California. All kinds of stuff up there."

He gives you the nugget, and takes the cigarette from his lips to place behind his left ear instead. You inspect the weed yourself now, noticing a faint sparkle from somewhere deep within it. The stench is certainly... potent. Being so close certainly can't help it. But there's something else you can smell too. Something fruity?

"Had no idea," you say.

"Here, you crush that up while I roll."

Your eyes switch from the dope in your hand to Billy in the drivers seat. Your brows crease slightly in shock and confusion as you look at him, and you realize in the back of your head that this is the closest you've ever been to each other. You know he's noticing your face- he has to. Something about that throws you off. Something about Billy Hargrove specifically noticing it- having this moment in his memory forever- makes the sides of your face feel hot. "You don't have a grinder?" you ask in disbelief.

Billy's orbs flicker between your own. His face is back to something like grumpiness again. "You talkin' about that little twisty thing?"

"Y... yeah?" you say. "It makes crushing up weed way easier. It catches the kief?"

Billy Hargrove somewhat resembles an agitated bull about to charge. You can see the gears twisting in his brain, however, and you know what he's thinking. He thinks you're playing a prank on him, or trying to make him look stupid. "I'm not shitting you," you say quickly.

With an annoyed breath he turns back to the paper in his hands. It goes quiet, uncomfortably so, so you turn back towards the nugget too. You take a paper that fell from the glovebox from the floor- an old science quiz that he'd managed to score a 79% on- and wrap it over the nugget. It's not the biggest nug you've seen, but it's more than enough for one joint split between the two of you. You simply begin smashing it carefully inside the paper, then opening it to pick out any loose pieces of stem.

It's once you've practically finished the task that you hear Billy's gruff voice from beside you. "You think you're so smart, huh?"

What?

You turn to him, catching the humored smile on his face as he continues rolling. He's shaking his head slightly all the while.

You're not upset. On the contrary, you're relaxed. You let the paper, now swarmed with little weed crumbs all piled messily towards the center, sit gentle on your lap as you lean back. "Not really."

Billy Hargrove does pause for a second, so fast you would've missed it with a blink, but you see it. "Could've fooled me," he mutters. Then he gestures for the substance in your lap. "Here."

You pick up the paper gently, with two hands, the way a child might hold a dinner plate. Billy Hargrove meticulously picks the crumbs between his two fingers, lips slightly pursed and brows furrowed in concentration, and lays it in the dip of the rolling paper.

"Promise it's not laced?" you whisper out hoarsely.

Billy freezes again, before a smirk takes up on his mouth. He turns to you, eyes wide, and leans forward. Although his hands are filled, he still finds a way to wiggle his fingers at you. "Oh, scared?"

Your face drops into sarcasm. Really? your face asks him. "You think so?"

Billy Hargrove turns back to the joint, and finishes packing after a few seconds. "Clearly," he snarks. He rolls his head back over to you, face suddenly very, very pretty. "You want the first hit?"

"If you're actually offering," you decide slowly.

Billy passes the joint to you as you reach into your pants pocket for a lighter. With a bit of wiggling, you manage to pull it from the fabric. "Here, I'll light," he says. So, you switch hands. Billy giving you the joint, you giving Billy the lighter. Billy fucking Hargrove.

With one final suspicious glance around the parking lot, you place the joint between your lips eagerly before leaning down. You can practically taste the hemp on your tongue. Billy Hargrove follows suit, leaning down out of sight of the windows and flicking the lighter to life.

"It's pretty strong shit," he tells you as his hand wanes closer toward the paper. You pray he doesn't decide to blue ball you right in that moment and fall back into typical Billy Hargrove fashion, and he doesn't. The end of the joint lights up orange and yellow, dancing and sparkling right before your eyes. The inhale is smokey and sudden, hitting the back of your throat like a train. You can only take it for two seconds before squeezing your eyes shut, at which point Billy grabs the joint right from your mouth.

You feel it fill your lungs, stilling yourself before letting it expel from you. It comes out through your mouth in a gentle stream, and when your eyes turn to Billy, smoke is pouring from his nose for a second longer than yours. Then you both lean back into the seats of the car.

Billy dips his head down and stares out into the parking lot before reaching down and rolling the window up. He glances to check if yours is closed before bringing the joint to his mouth again.

You watch him inhale. Already, you feel your eyes fall half lidded. You're certain the turning of your head is ungodly slow, more snail like than anything. But you don't care about that. You're watching Billy Hargrove's adam's apple bob once with the inhale, then your eyes wander up to his jaw. His nose shape isn't half ugly. Well, actually now that you're here, it's sort of cute. Has his hair always been so curly?

Billy Hargrove breathes this hit out of his nose again, eyes falling closed. He lets his head fall back against the car seat so that his face is pointed towards the roof, relaxed but still Billy.

Cautiously, your fingers dance towards the smoking joint still in his hand that rests on his lap. It's the closest you've been to physical contact with him, which would surely end in you getting your shit rocked if you make one wrong move, so you're sure to move slow. Almost comedically slow.

When the man feels the joint ease out of his grasp, his eyes snap open with a breath. Billy's blue orbs roll down to see your hand greedily try to snag it from his own, but he just lets it happen. He doesn't even look like he's going to rock your shit. Not even one little punch. His hand simply loosens until you pull the jay away for yourself.

"Light."

Billy side eyes you somewhat as he lifts the lighter up to the joint for you once more. "Good shit, right?" he lulls, face and eyes empty of emotion. He looks grumpy again.

You nod lazily, closing your eyes and taking your second hit. It's more bearable this time, and you manage to inhale for three seconds instead of two. You hold it for a moment in your lungs before letting it go, breathing out through your nose and mouth. "Can't remember the last time I hotboxed," you manage to drawl, though you immediately forget doing so. You're almost confused when Billy Hargrove responds.

"I probably do it..." he swallows and lets his eyes close again. "Probably every day."

"You're stronger than me."

"My tolerance is probably fuckin' crazy," Billy says as his eyes peel open. "My hit."

You pass it back to him.

"So you got any plans for the 20th?" he asks, and suddenly you're moved at the contribution he gives to continue the conversation.

You shrug. "Smoke."

Billy nods his head with a smirk, mid hit. "Yeah, that's the plan," he says after breathing out. "You gonna have any special deals that day? Any, uh, discounts?"

Your brows crease as much as they can through lazy senses, which isn't a lot at all. "I told you I don't sell."

Billy's eyes flicker between your own for a moment- again you can see the gears turn inside him. "You were serious about that?"

You nod. "Yeah, I'm not a dealer."

Billy Hargrove's eyes look you up and down for a second, again so missably quick, pretty and blue and distracting. (Distracting? How strong is this strain?) "So where'd you get your shit from then."

"Eddie Munson."

Billy's face splits into loud humor. Eyes light up, go big, mouth scoffing in disbelief. "The super senior?! You're fuckin' with me."

You playfully throw up your palms in mock surrender. "He has good stuff."

"But isn't that guy like, fuckin' crazy? He's always playin' that dumb nerd shit."

"He's pretty nice to me," you offer. "But, dude, he never plays Kill Em' All if we smoke?"

Billy takes the joint right from your hand, just how you did to him. His dark brows furrow much easier than yours as his eyes fall to you once more. "The Metallica piece?"

You nod.

"You're shittin'."

You shake your head.

"Jesus," Billy puts the joint in his mouth and holds the lighter to it. "What a fuckin' loser."

You can't help it. Really, you can't. Billy's words aren't that funny- probably aren't funny at all- but the laugh that escapes the back of your throat comes out in a scoff-snort combo that causes even Billy Hargrove to remove the joint prematurely to cough out smoke.

It's a nice moment. You don't find yourself resenting him or judging him and if he's doing so to you, you can't feel it. At all. You're just two idiots getting high in the car, being idiots high in the car. Billy's presence is welcomed by you, shockingly enough. It shocks you twice over- once, because it's Billy Hargrove. Twice, because for the first time in a while, you feel like you might just have a friend. Just for the moment- just for the moment.

"Ah, shit," you hear Billy break. "Fuckin' idiot."

You pull yourself a little closer to the present (as much as you possibly can as your body seemingly floats to the sky), and turn your eyes out the windshield. Through the hazy white mist that's settled in the car, you can make out a large and annoying figure by the name of Tommy, waving his arms over his head and grinning like a dull fish. His girlfriend, Carol, follows a few steps behind him, similar smile plastered to her face as her brown curls bounce.

"Damn," Billy Hargrove's face drops. "Just when I was startin' to enjoy it." He moves to open the door, and that's when you say something that makes him falter and look back to you.

"I gotta take off anyway."

Billy can't decide between taking a step forward or taking a step back it seems, almost like he's glitching. The boy leans down, turns his head to you. If you hadn't just smoked with him, you might not be able to tell he was high. His eyes aren't red, just pulled into that sarcastic, grumpy, pursed lipped look he's always wearing. "You sure?"

You shrug. "Yeah, don't worry about it."

Billy holds your eyes for a second more, jaw clenching. He decides not to say anything, however, and closes- a soft slam, really- his door closed. You watch him strut out to greet Tommy and Carol as Tommy points to you in the passengers seat with a grin you just loathe.

Quickly, you gather your backpack up from the floor. Out of courtesy, you find yourself quickly and inexplicably pulling the papers on the floor into a stack to place back in the glovebox. You click it closed without thinking, turning to leave when you stop.

The baggie still sits in the cupholder. Unattended, California bred and strong. You know how dumb it would be to take. You're not stupid enough to steal from Billy fucking Hargrove. But a few nuggets? Billy wouldn't notice. Especially not now, high off his ass, talking it up with Tommy about probably fucking nothing.

So, a nug or two wouldn't hurt...

Your brain convinces you you're a ninja. You swipe two medium sized nuggets, one dark green and one light, and cram them deep into your pocket. You're sure to zip the bag back into place to avoid suspicion as a rain of confetti seemingly falls around you.

The guilt is already washing over you somewhat, but it's deep, deep down inside. You almost can't even recognize it. You open the car door, sling your backpack over your shoulder, and watch the smoke ooze from the vehicle like a thick cloud. You must look like Zeus right now.

After the door closes, you're quick to walk away. Luckily, the lot is small, and you can see your car from here. Your foggy brain almost forgets about Tommy and Carol, who can somehow still see you even through your fast pace. "Hey!" Carol calls. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

You just walk faster and keep your head down. You feel two things just then- Carol's laughter filling the air, and Billy Hargrove's eyes on your back.

✧���ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Much to your own surprise, you do not grind up and smoke those two nuggets that night. Nor do you do so the day after, or the day after that. You highly consider it on the third day, though Billy Hargrove manages to completely deter your mind from it.

He doesn't do anything outright ruining- oh no. Billy just so happened to hold eye contact with you in the lunch line after rolling his eyes at something. It only lasts two, maybe three seconds. But it's enough to turn you off from smoking his-your- weed.

On day five, two days before the 20th, Billy Hargrove receives a test back in math that makes the right corner of his lips twitch up. You know, because you watch him very carefully from your corner of the room.

Billy tries to disguise it, of course. The man of rock and stone is always cautious to keep up appearances. Always frowning, always angry, always too good for something. But whatever he got on that test was, and is, worth more than that little mask. In your head, Billy Hargrove is proud of himself. He worked hard for something and he got a reward for it. Just like you, just like the people you admire, just like everyone else on the planet.

And you stole from him.

On day six, you find, once again, that Billy Hargrove has made himself at home against your locker. Again, you do not run away. From deep, deep in you, you're almost happy to see him. Almost.

"Billy," you greet flatly. The boy once again slides away from your locker so that you can open it, sly as a fox.

"Y/N," Billy greets back. He watches your face as you trade some books and binders, packing your bag to go home. You might be worried about him confronting you about his missing nuggets if you didn't know any better. No, Billy Hargrove was a hot headed bull. If he had noticed, he would've said something by now. Hell, you'd probably have a broken arm or something. "Still planning on smokin' tomorrow?"

God, don't bring it up. "Yeah, hoping to." You close the locker and clutch your jacket in your arms. Billy walks in time with you, neither of you acknowledging the accidental bumping of shoulders that's brought about through the crowded hallway. "Why do you ask?"

Billy Hargrove doesn't look at you. He looks straight ahead, almost as if he's in pain from what he's about to say. He looks like this is some great task for him, saying whatever he's about to say. Taller than you, you watch his sullen eyes as he speaks. "Was wonderin' if you wanted to smoke in the car again."

Your brows crease for a split second. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

The sun illuminates you both as you walk through the open doors and out the side exit of Hawkins High. The spring breeze dances with the summer air gloriously. "Any particular reason you're asking me and not Tommy?"

Billy wastes no time in responding. "Tommy's a fuckin' idiot."

The laugh almost spills out of your mouth, but you manage to catch it with a cough. "Oh, okay. Yeah, he is."

Your walking slows as you approach your car, which catches the glint of the bright, bright sun. Billy turns to you, watching with his usual casual swagger as you fumble to get your keys out. "So you in?"

I stole your weed! you want to blurt out. I stole it and I actually feel kind of bad about it!

Instead, you glance down at your shoes, instantly giving away your poker face. "Oh, uh, maybe."

Something washes over Billy's face, but only for a second of a second. Maybe not even. Disappointment? Whatever it is, it's replaced by his usual expression. Pursed lips, unimpressed eyes, and the feeling that he's cursing you in his brain. "Well," he glances around the parking lot. The sun bounces off of him too, but in a way that looks better than it does on your car. It looks like it's meant to bounce off of him. "Let me know. You've got a phone book." And then he's already walking away with his back to you before you can say anything more.

You don't like watching him go. Sure, Billy's ass did look fantastic in the jeans he typically wore, but it did little to negate the odd feeling of despair and loneliness you suddenly felt. But Billy Hargrove wasn't your friend. He wasn't anything- you weren't anything to him. He just wanted weed out of you anyway. Ironic, considering.

It was true, you could always look up Billy's last name in your home phone book and come clean. You think about this as you seat yourself in your car, which feels and smells like a microwave from the oncoming heat. You knew you should really just call him. Just take your beating and get on with it.

But there was a little voice in your brain that said otherwise. It was that voice that gave you the idea.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Billy Hargrove lived on 4819 Cherry Lane, in a little pale house. It was cute, only one story. Very family friendly. It looked like his mother had taken a great bit of care in taking care of the family's plants, which bloomed in shades of poppy red and cherry blossom pink in the bushes right outside. You felt some guilt in thinking that Billy didn't deserve this.

It looked too juxtaposing compared to him, even in the dark of night. It looked too quaint, too warm and nurtured. But you knew better. Even though you're about to commit breaking and entering- or preferably just entering- you know better. There's something in that house that hardened Billy Hargrove. His mother? His father? Something buried deep under his bed? Whatever it was, now wasn't the time to poke.

The leaves crunch under your shoes with every step, but the hum of the cicadas drowns it out for the most part. You round the house so you're at the right side, relieved that all the lights are off. You can see through the little half sliding window, covered in dust and pollen, that it leads to an empty hallway with more pale walls.

There's no doubt in your mind. You're already committed. One hand on the window and another against the house's siding for support, you push the window apart. It comes off easier than expected, wheezing from friction as you slowly ease the panel open. No going back, there is still no doubt in your mind. Returning Billy's weed is the best thing you could do for him. And would you look at that- can anyone really call it breaking and entering if you haven't broken anything?

Both palms clasping the edge of the window, you vault yourself up and over. Exiting the summer night air and entering the Hargrove home comes faster than expected, but your shoes touch down nonetheless. You'd say it feels like a dream, but it's too fast to be a dream. The wooden floors are too solid, and the smell of Billy is too strong.

Billy Hargrove's bedroom isn't far from the window you climbed through. It's a few steps forward from your position down the hallway and then to the left. You expect to see the door closed, probably locked, which was why you'd brought two long and thin hairpins to pick it open, but the door is open. Every single light in the house is off, and Billy Hargrove's room is dark.

Silently- and bravely- you peak your head into the room. Again, you expect to maybe see him in a limp heap on the bed, but yet again, it's empty. Better for you, you suppose. Easier to get in and out unnoticed.

You see the Metallica poster by his bed, the laundry shoved into the corner of the room. You see the plain blue curtains with the little tiny hole burnt into the fabric, the unmade bed, the bottles of cologne and hair product and combs. You see the closet, hastily left open. Even with the lights off, you see it all. You see Billy Hargrove's life.

It moves something inside of you. You're not sure why. But then you only use it as an incentive to not be weird, to not be a creep anymore then you've made yourself into. Hastily, eyes already adjusting to the dark, you pull the two nuggets of Billy Hargrove's strong California weed- one light green and one dark- and quickly walk over to the boys bedside table. There's nowhere to leave it organically really, so you opt for just placing it by the little table lamp. Not sure what Billy Hargrove has that for, you can't imagine he's doing much reading before bed.

And then it's done. The weed you stole is returned. All is well.

You back away slowly, almost as if the nuggets were cursed objects in a horror movie. Then you turn around, practically flying back down the hallway and launching yourself back through the window with ease. Maybe it's the anxiety, or the adrenaline, but you're quick as a cat and silent as a mouse. Your shoes crunch the grass once more and you feel the warm nights breeze caress your face, protecting you from any danger. You turn around and slide the window back shut until you hear the hissing turns into a final click.

Your shoulders soften, and you turn away from the house. The crickets are loud tonight, you realize, and the cicadas. They tell you that you did the right thing. They tell you that you did it out of something good instead of fear. It's enough.

When you come back to the front of the house, you expect to see the same emptiness you'd seen before. The street, some trees, the darkness and the moon. But you're met with the opposite.

Billy Hargrove stares at you. He leans against his blue car parked on the street right outside 4819 Cherry Lane. Cigarette in hand, he raises it to his lips and takes a drag, but his eyes never-not once- stray from your own. They're just piercing into yours yet again, daring you.

You are so fucked.

Billy takes the cigarette from his lips and breathes the air out. He reaches a finger out to you and pulls it back towards him in a 'come here' motion.

All you want to do is run away before he beats your skull into the dirt and breaks your arm. But if you imagine he's leaning against your locker instead of his car in the dead of night, suddenly it's not so scary. You swallow, and begin towards him.

When you're finally there, right in front of him, Billy's the one to speak first. His voice is low, but his face isn't outright fuming. You can't tell if that's better or worse. Billy Hargrove plotting doesn't exactly sit right with you, but you're not sure how much experience he has in that realm anyway.

"You broke into my house?"

"No. I didn't break anything."

Billy holds your stare. His face is the stone man once again. "You're funny," he says, in a tone that makes you believe you're not really all that funny at all. The pretty brunette takes another hit. From this close up, you realize it's not a cigarette at all, but a blunt. A skinny one sure, but the smell and shape is more than familiar. "What are you doin' in my house, L/N?"

Nope, don't say a word, your brain says. You obey. "Just browsing."

"Browsing?" Billy deadpans.

"Browsing."

It's silent. His blue eyes flicker back and forth between your own, digging out the truth. He'll find it sooner or later, you know that for sure. "You know, I've had some crazy girls do some crazy things for my attention," Billy Hargrove starts. "But this might just be the craziest."

The word slips out before you can control it. "Gross."

Of course, it wasn't gross. Billy accusing you of wanting his attention? It was half true. Maybe you cared for him just a little. You mean, he'd been sort of welcoming to you, hadn't he? That day in the car? And yesterday, at your locker?

There's another minute of silence. Billy Hargrove's eyes are still dancing between yours, and you're still holding it. There's no anxious pit in your stomach. There's no desire to take a step away. If he swings, he swings.

Instead, he says, "Want a hit?"

Your brows furrow in confusion. "I- I mean, yeah?"

"Take it." Billy takes a short hit himself before practically cramming the joint in your hand. "It's 4/20."

You observe the jay carefully, twisting it around in your fingers as your eyes scan it. It's not laced or poisoned, at least, given that it looks like Billy's been puffing on the thing for a while. But there's no reason at all for him to share with you. He did, after all, just catch you in a blatantly illegal act on his property. Simply informing you that it's April 20th isn't enough.

"You really want to smoke with me that bad?" you ask, tone genuine as you hesitantly raise it to your own mouth.

Billy shrugs.

"Thought you'd be more pissed," you only say instead. Then you accept your fate, inhaling the still light cherry.

It's much easier on your throat than the other time, not as harsh. It fills your lungs with peace, sucking up any last remnants of anxiety that might've lingered. When you open your eyes, Billy Hargrove is just as pretty as he was before you closed them. With all that effort going into his appearance, you guess he'd have to be. But Billy Hargrove probably would've been pretty no matter what. If he kept his hair long or short, messy or tamed, skin tanned or pale. Oddly enough, you really believed that. You really, truly did.

You pass the joint back to Billy. "Where's your parents?"

Billy shrugs once more, this time mid hit. "Hell if I know," he replies. "Vacation, I think? Little brat's off at a friends house til Sunday. Place is all mine."

His tone is easing up already, which you think to take as a good sign. When you open your hand, Billy passes the joint back to you with no hesitation. "Lucky," you offer back, taking your hit.

"Gonna need to light it again soon," the boy says. "Got a light here."

Sure enough, Billy produces a little metal lighter from his back pocket. Different from the one he used before, but smoother on the flame. He raises it up to the blunt, and you eye him for a moment before leaning in.

This hit is better than the last few. You want to smile after this one. "How'd you even know I was here?"

Billy Hargrove crosses his arms and settles back into his lean. "Divine providence," he drawls with a roll of his eyes.

"Don't be fuckin' lame."

"I'm sorry?" Billy's dark eyebrow quips up attentively. "Who just broke into who's house?"

You smirk a little- just a smug little twitch that you find you can't help. Whether it be the bud or the conversation, you stifle it best you can to no avail. "I already told you I didn't break anything."

"Mm," Billy hums. His face is full of sarcastic disbelief as he snatches the jay right out of your hand so fast, it burns the tip of your finger.

"I promise. I'd never."

Billy takes his hit. Both of his eyebrows raise in thought before he makes a point to blow the smoke in the exact direction of your face. Immediately, your eyes flutter close at the impact, which rivals that of a brick wall. Even your nose twitches at the force. "You think I'm going to trust the word of a criminal?"

You look at Billy Hargrove. Curly taupe hair. Big, blue, dollface eyes framed by perfectly full brows. A cute button nose. Tanned skin basking in the summer anticipation. He wasn't so bad, you supposed.

You can't help but dip your head as you smile, shaking your head as you find yourself growing shy.

Unknown to you, Billy smiles a little too, before raising the joint back to his lips and inhaling.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I HAVEN'T POSTED IN YEARS LMFAOOOOO. Hope everyone's doing well. This is just a little treat for you guys for the holiday if you celebrate. If not, just enjoy Billy. I actually kinda liked this pairing. I'd make a part 2, and I actually mean that. I do intend on getting back into posting but I need to do it at my own pace. I'm gonna close requests again so I don't get overwhelmed and just move slow. I am, as always, apologetic for any spelling errors I may have missed, and grammar errors, and I apologize if this at all feels rushed even though I've been working on it for the whole week. Sorta felt like I had to speed it up at the end since there is a word or paragraph cap on tumblr and i was getting hella nervous about hitting it. Anyway, stay safe, take care.

[thefallennightmare]

Solace-one shot

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 3kishh

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff.

Summary: When the past comes knocking, will reader give up her perfect, quiet life to be with the one man she vowed never to speak with again?

Authors Note: here is a little something I thought of in my sleep, so I hope you enjoy! Also, I suck at summaries so apologies ha.

The sound of rain slapping against large, glass windows, eased my body and consciousness deeper into sleep. My soft snores echoed in tangent with the rain and I could feel my body sink further into the mattress, the last day falling away around me. It hadn’t been an exciting day, just spent working in the garden and working on my art; the same thing I had done so much of the last handful of years. It may not have been exciting to some but to me, it was my own solace. 

To be honest, the world past the treeline of my back yard scared me, even after all this time. I thought I had adjusted well but every time I went out into public for whatever reason, I was proven wrong. 

I never found myself complaining, however, with everything I had gone through and seen, I ended up retreating to this small cottage in the middle of nowhere Washington, away from civilization that scared me. Washington had no meaning to me, the farther I got away from him the better. I hadn’t seen him in over six years so I knew that I might have been over reacting in how far I tried to get away but I could never be too safe in something like this. 

Even if I hadn't seen him in so long, that didn’t stop the news or rumors of him finding its way to me. I never believed it, though. I knew who he was, truly. This life I had been living, we used to talk about how it would be for the both of us. Building our home together on a large piece of land with either the mountains or a lake in the backyard, somewhere for our kids to grow up in and us to grow old in. 

But with how things ended between us, I opted in creating this future without him. 

My body turned to the other end of the bed, the rain sounding behind me however with the knocking that echoed from the front door drained out the rain. It was a quiet but familiar knock. 

Our knock. 

Three raps against the wood then one solo knock followed by two more. 

My eyes snapped open, the drowsiness from sleep evaporating as I sat up in bed, gazing to the dark hallway outside of my bedroom door. All I could hear now was the rain until the knock sounded once more, this time a bit more persistent. 

“No way,” I muttered while letting my feet guide me towards my front door. 

It couldn’t be him. There was no way he could have found me, I made sure to cover my tracks when I moved out here. 

My eyebrows raised up in confusion when I looked out of the little peep hole, seeing nothing but darkness. 

Maybe I dreamed it?

I turned to head back to bed but when the same knock blasted behind me, I swiftly opened the door only to be met with more darkness. 

“This isn’t funny!,” I yelled. “You’re fucking with the wrong person.” 

The knife I had snatched from the table next to the front door clenched tightly in my hand. 

“Y/N.” 

Out of the darkness emerged the man that had been taking over my dream tonight, only this time he was in front of me, in the flesh, looking very different from the last time I had seen him. 

Long hair slicked back, a thick beard covering his face, and his once patriotic and noticeable suit was now worn down and almost dark, matching the way his eyes looked. 

They used to be so bright, full of life and love. But now, they were almost unrecognizable. 

“St-steve?” I stammered, stumbling away from him. 

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “Hey doll.” 

My head shook, still not believing that he was in front of me. “Wha-what are you-how did you find me-what happened-is that blood?” 

A million questions ran through my mind and I didn’t know which one to ask first

I pointed to a wet spot on his suit, blood seeping through from what I was guessing a wound on his thigh; the large tear in his suit also gave me the answer I was looking for. 

Steve glanced down at it before a sigh fell through his lips. “I’m okay.” 

Our eyes locked and suddenly I felt myself become filled with rage. I hadn't seen Steve in so long that this is how he showed up on my doorstep? In the middle of the night and what looks like fresh off of a fight? 

 “How in the hell did you find me?” 

His lips parted to speak but a red head came bounding up the stairs towards us. The porch light casted over her face and even if I never met her before, I knew exactly who she was. 

“That actually was me. It took me some time, you really took yourself off of the map.” 

I raised a brow at her. “For good reason. You’re with him?” 

She nodded. “Natasha Romanoff.” 

It was my turn to nod, my suspicion of who she was proved right. 

“Y/N, we need your help.” 

Steve reached for me and I snatched my hand away, eyes sliced into him. 

“You disappear on me for years, after everything we had gone through together, and have the fucking balls to show up here asking for a favor?” I seethed. 

“We told him it was a bad idea to come here but he wouldn’t listen.” 

Another figure emerged from the darkness up my steps and I groaned in annoyance. 

“How many people did you bring to my house, Rogers?” I asked. 

“I’m Sam, Sam Wilson.” He nodded an introduction. “I’m sure Steve would be the first to tell you that we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t actually need your help.” 

I took in all three of their appearances and noticed exactly how tired they were. I wasn’t sure what the three of them had gotten themselves into but did know that whatever they were running from was important enough to come here. 

With a hesitant nod, I opened the front door allowing the three bodies to quickly slip inside. Knife still clenched in my hand, I did a quick once over of my wrap around porch to make sure that no one had followed them. Once it was clear, I slipped back inside my house and locked the door behind me. 

“So you're wanted for treason because you guys didn’t sign some kind of accords to stop you from fighting? ” I asked Natasha. 

“It’s complicated, I know. But we really do appreciate you taking us in. We won't be here long, I’m sure.” 

We were sitting at my kitchen island, two cups of coffee placed in front of us, and I glanced over to my living room where Sam and Steve were quietly talking amongst themselves; most likely their next plan. 

Steve had his back to me and in the way his shoulders tensed, whatever they had been running from had kept them on the run for awhile. 

“How long have you guys been on the run?” I asked Natasha, looking back at her. 

Her shoulders dropped. “A long time.” 

“Well, feel free to stay as long as you guys need.” I gave her hand a comforting squeeze. 

The relief that washed over her face was immediately recognizable. “I don’t know what happened between you and Steve but I do know that this was the last place he wanted to hide out.” 

“Yeah, well I’m sure he was thrilled to come here,” I spoke with sarcasm.

Natasha raised a brow. “What exactly happened between the two of you?”  

Clearing my throat, I stood from the counter and motioned behind me. “There’s a guest room down the hall next to the bathroom that I’m sure Natasha will want.” 

She smiled a thanks before nodding. 

“Uh, are you two okay with the couches?” I asked more towards Sam. 

He nodded. “Better than what we’ve been sleeping on.” 

Steve refused to meet my gaze, keeping it trained hard on his boots, so I took it as a sign to retreat back to my room. 

“Help yourself to whatever you’d like. There’s extra towels in the hall closet if you guys want to take a shower.” 

Sam and Natsha said their thanks and without another look towards Steve, I slipped back into my bedroom, the door open ajar. 

Shaky hands ran through my hair as I began pacing my room, sputtering words falling from my lips. 

“Why is he here? I’ve done so well without him,” I muttered to myself. 

I could feel my heart hammer hard in my chest and it echoed loud in my ears when I thought of Steve, sitting in my living room; a sight I never thought I would see. My feet dragged over towards the desk in my room and I pulled out an old leather bound book. It was filled with my own thoughts and some pictures, the specific one I was looking for almost slipping away. 

The edges were frayed and the color was faded but the smiles in the picture were still there, bright as the day it was taking, almost a hundred years ago. 

Steve’s small arms wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me close. My hand squeezing the other man's face, the laughter from that day was still fresh in my mind. 

I traced a finger over the other man's face, a quiet sob echoing through the room. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” 

This picture was taken before Steve became the soldier he was now, back when everything was easier. The three of us grew up together since elementary school and Bucky and I became close as we reached highschool. Everyone said we were the perfect couple and I thought so too until I thought I had lost him. 

The night Steve had come to tell me that Bucky was gone was one of the hardest nights I had gone through; the night Steve left me behind was a close second. 

I loved Bucky, still do to this day, and will always love him. 

Guilt pulled at my heart because as much as I loved Bucky, I don’t think I could ever love him more than him. 

Steve. 

With a soft sigh, I placed the book back into the drawer of my desk and slipped underneath the covers of my bed, which had gone cold. I forced my eyes closed, hoping that the past wouldn’t resurface, however no matter how hard I kept them away, they slipped back. Loud, angry voices, bouncing around my head. 

Bucky’s alive but he’s not the same as you remember. You can’t go after him” 

Screw you, Rogers! You can’t keep him from me. 

Doll, I swear it’s not a good time for you to see him. He won’t remember you.” 

Is this part of your plan? Keeping us apart because we’re sleeping together?

With a loud groan, I turned over in bed, facing the doorway, and I found myself wondering what Steve was doing right now. 

I love you, Steve. 

I love you too, Y/N. But I have to do this. It’s the only way to keep you safe. 

Throwing the blankets off of me in an instant, I tugged on a sweater and quietly slipped out of my bedroom and back door, sleep being foreign now. Thankfully I was able to go unnoticed by the voices coming from the living room. 

The cold breeze blew past me, wrapping around my bare ankles, as I sat on the back step, allowing the sounds of the rain to ease my racing mind. 

“You always found the sound of the rain comforting.”

My heart hammered against the cage in my chest as I watched Steve lean against the post, arms crossed over his chest. 

I nodded. “Do you guys need anything?” 

Steve shook his head. “Sam and Natasha are already asleep.” 

“You can't?” I asked. 

“We’ve been on the run so long that my body is used to being on guard,” he confessed. 

I started chipping away at the polish on my fingers, nerves wrecking my body. This was the first time in so long that Steve and I were alone and there was the unsureness of if he had still felt the same. 

I did, there wasn’t any doubt about it. 

“Has he reached out?” Steve asked, treading lightly on the conversation. 

I nodded. “He called me a few weeks ago to check in. He’s doing really well where he’s at. The young girl is helping him get his memories back.” 

It was Steve’s turn to nod. “Shuri, she’s taking good care of him.” 

Silence fell between us and I looked up to the sky, the large moon casting a glow over the skin of my face; Steve’s as well. 

I didn’t want to admit it outloud but he looked absolutely breathtaking, especially with the long hair and beard. 

“Does he know-?” Steve trailed off. 

“About us?” I finally looked into his eyes.

When Steve nodded, I continued with a sigh. “Yeah but if I’m being honest, it’s been so long since Bucky and I were together that the love we shared isn’t the same as it used to be. We both agreed that although we love each other, we both needed to move on.”

He pulled his sweater closer to his chest, the sudden breeze causing us both to shiver. 

“What about me?” 

I was on my feet quickly as I walked back towards my house, not wanting to have this conversation with him. 

“I’m not doing this, Steve,” I informed while walking past him. 

“Doll, please,” He reached for me. 

“Don’t,” I seethed while pulling my hand away. “You lost the right to call me that when you left me behind.” ‘

“I didn’t have a choice, Y/N. It was the only way to keep you safe,” Steve defended. 

“I told you that I loved you that morning and that evening you were gone! If you never loved me all you had to do was say that.” I spat. 

Steve ran a hand over his face with a loud sigh. “I did love you, sweetheart. I did it for you; for us.” 

“You left me behind, Steve! When I needed you the most, you packed up and left! Who does that to someone they love, after everything we have been through!” 

My screams could be heard miles away and there wasn't a doubt in my mind that Sam and Natasha had awoken, probably wondering what Steve and I had been fighting about. 

“I was with you on that plane when you took it into the water, or did you forget?!” 

Steve’s face twisted with sorrow. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day, Y/N. I blame myself every day that I allowed you to be on the ship. I thought I could have kept you safe.” 

Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes. “We both went to sleep together that day, in the ice. We both woke up together, seventy years later. But you weren’t the only one that had to adjust!” 

“I know, I should have been there for you,” Steve stepped towards me. 

I stepped back from him. “The second you left, Fury took me under his wing, trained me to be his next assassin, something that I never wanted for my life. You didn’t want it for me either. But I didn’t have a choice. I needed to survive somehow!” 

Steve parted his lips to speak but I continued to rant on, everything I had bottled up all these years finally spewing from my mouth. 

“I was in this new world where nothing made sense so Fury used that to his advantage. I did things I’m not proud of and it gives me nightmares to this day which is why I had to get away. I needed to get far away from that life.” 

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologized. 

It went in one ear and right out the other. 

“Why now? Why did you decide now to come back into my life? I was finally getting over you, settling into a life that wasn’t filled with death or heartbreak. Then you came back, looking like this, and it brought everything back,” I sobbed while motioning to his new look.

Steve inched closer to me. “We needed a safe space and I knew that Fury had some place set up for you where no one can find you.” 

“So you only came to hide out, then what? Plan to make me love you again, fall into my bed, then leave before the sun comes up?” I accused with a hard gaze. 

“That was never going to happen,” He reassured me. “I knew that if I were to come back to you that I would need to do whatever it took to make it up to you.” 

I sucked in my lip. “Do you still love me?” 

The question burned deep in my stomach, spewing out like vomit in wanting to know the answer. 

“Never stopped.” 

Steve didn’t hesitate his answer for a second. 

The dormant butterflies sparked, their wings fluttering in my stomach slightly. 

“Do you still love me?” Steve asked. 

Before, I wanted to avoid this question with every fiber in my being because I never knew how Steve felt so now that I had his answer, I knew what to say. 

“Never stopped.” I repeated his own words. 

We shared a small smile but I held up my hand to stop Steve, who wanted to take a step towards me. Even though we admitted that we still loved one another and no matter how many times he apologized, I don’t think I was ready to forgive Steve. 

Yet. 

My bottom lip trembled as I let out a shaky breath. “You guys don’t have to rush out of here. Stay as long as you need. To be honest, the company will be nice. And maybe we can talk more about our future.” 

“I’d like that,” Steve admitted, his voice breaking. 

Giving Steve a final smile, I made my way back towards my bedroom, silently hoping that I wasn’t going to regret letting him not only into my home but back into my life.

[ronearoundblindly]

What if Ari comes to pick us up from work and a male coworker who is just being nice holds the door open and we laugh at some ridiculous joke and have 0 interest in said Co worker we have Ari but Ari being Ari ...what does he do

Well well well if it isn't ye ol' green-eyed monster fic time...

Warnings for SMUT but it's short and sweet with very vague language... 😉 MINORS DNI. *also not edited

Quick and Dirty, a Bedrock and Blueprints drabble

New guy? I think he looks like DIS:

So he's definitely cute, but hey, you're dating Ari--Ari who's known you for a decade and really should trust you by now.

After that incident of Philip's return though, Ari's been extra protective. He has this moment of seeing this guy. You're laughing, then looking very closely over his shoulder at something he's showing you on his phone, and Ari's sitting in his truck, dirty from his day's work.

This dude is pristinely dressed, well-groomed, articulate, and funny (ok, he's assuming the last two, but whatever). Ari is...super rough around the edges, so he wonders if that's something you like better. He doesn't say anything to you when you get in the truck, though, just asks if you had a good day.

"Great day actually," you beam.

Ari smiles but is a little jealous that greatness wasn't because of him

It's all pretty fine and forgotten until one day you have to stay late at work, can't take your regular bus, and instead of waiting the extra forty minutes for the later (less frequent) bus, you accept a ride home from Boyd.

That's his name. Ari grumbles it back to you when you explain. You didn't tell Ari to pick you up because who knew how long the meetings would take, so he's home and cooking dinner when you are dropped off in some very, very swanky car that Ari just barely sees drive away.

Boyd.

Ari can't help but be a grumpy old fart the rest of the evening. Randomly, mid-movie on the couch, Ari asks, "so is this Boyd married?"

You shift up to look at him, head resting in Ari's lap.

"Or gay? Maybe both?" He's trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

"I don't think so, why? Want his number," you tease.

"He's just very...clean."

"Oh yikes. Lock him up. That's a war crime in this house, I know."

"I only meant--" what the hell does Ari mean? "--he...is very clean."

"Yeah," you exaggerate, sitting up and leaning one arm all way across Ari's lap, landing beside his hip. "You said that."

His stormy blue eyes meet yours in the dim light of the TV. He's not going to ask if you think his beard is unkempt or his hair is too long or his clothes are too--oh.

Your other hand rubs up and down the seam of his sweatpants.

"So if he's clean, then you...are dirty?" Your voice stays low while Ari's head falls lax against the cushion and his breathing turns ragged. "Is that right, Levinson?"

"I...I just..." Ari sighs heavily, growing thick and hard under your strokes. He stares at the ceiling until he feels you straddle him.

You whine his name just the way he likes, and he grips at your thighs and pulls you close just the way you like.

Harsh and heated friction builds between your bodies. Silent minutes later, Ari moans your name in warning, licking his dry lips, but before he can close the distance between you, your fingers are in his hair and pull.

"How could you think that? Huh? You know I love you, don't you? Know I love you here with me."

Ari grunts, trying to nod against your hold.

"Yeah, baby. You know that?" You grind long, slow, full-length rolls across his bulge. "I love you, and I love you--" bent forward, your lips ghost his "--dirty."

Ari's torso tenses beneath you. He's keeping it together but just barely.

"Can you do that for me, Ari?"

Right into his lips, right before you capture him in a kiss, you finish him off. "Make--" grip "--me--" grind "--dirty."

Done. He's done.

Into your mouth, he moans, "fuuuuuu, hhnnnnnyy," and his arms circle your waist as you continue sweet, gentle rolls against him.

After you stop and the kisses become weak pecks here and there, your fingers still massaging his scalp, Ari finally opens his eyes.

His blown pupils and dopey smirk look good on him. He feels pretty great, too. Dirty, sure, but it's a great night. It's early yet.

A few months later, there's a stupid work party.

Ari wears the nicest clothes he has, but they're still old...like he feels.

Ari also feels like a bit of a dud next to you all dolled up and beautiful, a feeling which compounds when Boyd shows up in a perfectly tailored suit and no date.

Ari avoids the introduction for as long as possible, but eventually, your social circulation in the crowd lands him right there with Boyd's hand out expectantly.

"Mr. Levinson, so nice to meet you," Boyd starts with surprisingly genuine excitement.

"Likewise," Ari says tightly.

"You're basically a legend around here," the man continues.

What?

"Can't fix a damn thing myself, but, man, the way your girl talks about you--all that stuff you've done with y'all's house? I mean I wish I could do half of that shit." Boyd holds a hand up to his mouth. "Oh, man, sorry. You curse?"

Ari snorts, loudly and enthusiastically. "Yes, I fucking do."

He'd never thought about it that way, never considered all the stuff he could do that Boyd can't. Ari assumed that since you and Boyd share similar careers, you'd be similar to each other, but this dude is bouncy and chaotic, probably best experienced in small doses.

It's the best scenario he could ever hope for.

"Well," Ari drawls, grinning as he brings his whisky to his lips but doesn't sip, "anytime you need somethin' fixed..."

He likes Boyd. Boyd the Boy. The Boy who can't maintain his own house. The Boy who knows you're Ari's girl. The Boy who addressed him as 'Mr. Levinson.' Yes, he likes Boyd.

Suddenly, the party isn't so bad, and Ari wonders aloud if Boyd plays poker.

Later, while you lean on his shoulder on the ride home, you let out a long breath.

"Told ya so," you mumble, "my dirty, old man."

Oh okay. That's how you're playing it? Ari might just have a few more points to prove tonight...

bwahahahahahahaha

[Main Masterlist]

[imakemywings]

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: f!Cadash/Blackwall

AN: De-anon of a kink meme fill from a while back for Blackwall getting pegged.

AO3

__________________________________________________

            There had been a time not long ago when Blackwall had thought to never see the inside of Inquisitor Cadash’s private quarters again. But for Cadash, there had never been a question about that. Even before his revelation, Blackwall had known some of the things she had done which made her inclined to forgive him even a crime of the severity to which he confessed, but after pardoning him—after affirming she meant to keep him in her life—she had coughed up the rest: All of the things she’d been afraid to lay out for him, once she began to care about his good opinion. The fingers crushed under forge hammers, the families threatened, the parties thrown just to slit the throat of a specific target—all of it.

            So now it was all on the table. No more secrets, they said. No more lies. No more cowardice.

            “You make me a better person,” Cadash had confided in him once, after. “You make me want to be better.”

            “That’s funny,” Blackwall said. “I was thinking the same about you.” But she could hear in his voice how much it meant to think that even someone like him—the real him—could inspire someone to something good. It was something he wished for so desperately.

            And so Blackwall spent many more nights in Cadash’s quarters. In fact, they had all but officially become his quarters as well—she had given him a small dresser of his own for his things, and he never overnighted in his own bed anymore, even if he was sliding in beside a sleeping Cadash after a late training or scouting session.

            Neither of them was the rosy image they wanted to present to the world—but maybe that was alright. Maybe it mattered just that they were trying.

            When Blackwall held her on his lap, the mountain moonlight beaming cold against the thick black hair on the back of his head, the candlelight indoors wreathing her in yellow-gold, she believed they could live up to their new ideals.

            She dug her fingers into his beard and tipped his head back to seal her mouth over his, grinning as she felt the bulge in his trousers when she rolled her hips against his. There had been a powerful level of decorum and courtesy in Blackwall’s initial treatment of her, and Cadash had simply delighted in getting underneath that to know how much he lusted for her.

            “Are you ready to feel the firm hand of the Inquisition?” she teased when she drew back, her lips slick with their mingled saliva, her pupils wide.

            “I was under the impression it would be more than a hand,” Blackwall said, though she detected a thread of nervousness in him. She laughed.

            “I’ll take care of you, baby,” she promised in her twangy, drawling accent, leaning in to kiss his neck, pressing her hips down against his lap. “As much as you want.” For a moment, she occupied herself nibbling at his neck until he said:

            “Are you trying to leave a mark? That’s a bit childish, isn’t it?” He sounded amused.

            “Tch, no one will even see it with your collar,” she said. “Besides…” She dug her nails into his scalp at the back his head, “You know how I feel about making clear what’s mine.” She heard Blackwall’s intake of breath and grinned again, kissing him softly against the tendons in his neck. He was always weak for her flashes of possessiveness.

            “You’re sure?” she asked then, sitting back on his knees to look him full in the face. “Do you want to see it first?”

            “I…yes, perhaps that would be best,” Blackwall allowed. Cadash, with some reluctance, slid off his lap and pranced across the room to where she’d stowed the toy. It was her own—she felt the inquisitor deserved some proper stress relief, though Josephine had not looked her in the eyes when confronting her about the expense—and she enjoyed the idea of putting her own toy to use on her lover.

            She’d even bought a new harness for this.

            Nearly preening, she presented him with the dildo and let him look it over.

            “It’s rather, er—large, isn’t it?” he said. Cadash shrugged.

            “I’ve had bigger. Yours is bigger by a stretch,” she added with a cheeky look. For a moment, Blackwall hesitated, second-guessing his request, but then she saw that resolute look enter his eyes.

            “Let’s do it,” he said.

            “Bully,” said Cadash, taking it back. She set the dildo and the harness aside and sat on the edge of the bed, stretching her legs out to invite Blackwall to remove what remained of her clothing, which he did with that same combination of fervent desire and awed reverence that never failed to get her wet.

            When he’d tugged her shorts off at last, she grabbed the loose front of his shirt and pulled him forward into a heated kiss, wriggling until her knees bracketed his hips.

            “Someday I’m going to invite my exes to Skyhold,” Cadash announced.

            “Why’s that?” Blackwall asked, his voice gone low and rough as it did when she was really having a go at him.

            “So they can be jealous.” Her eyes twinkled and she jerked loose the ties on his shirt until it began to slip from his thick shoulders, and he straightened up to pull it off and toss it aside.

            “Is that so?” he said, placing his hands on the bed and leaning in to catch her mouth with his.

            “Mhm!” she replied enthusiastically without breaking the kiss. Her hands slid eagerly down through the coarse hair over his chest and belly to his belt, which she could not get off fast enough. “They’ll all be perfectly green, I’m sure!”

            “I think you maybe just a bit biased,” Blackwall replied, entertained as ever when Cadash suggested he was a prize of any stripe.

            “Well, there’s one way to test that,” she said, yanking the belt free of its loops and turning her attention to the laces on his trousers. “You’re making this rather difficult, by the by,” she added, referencing his cock straining against the closed pants opening.

            “I rather think that’s your fault, isn’t it?” he replied, making Cadash simply elated with how much bolder and more confident and open he had grown with her since they began this.

            “It sure is!” she said proudly, managing just fine with the laces despite her complaint. Blackwall lowered his head to kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and one of his calloused hands slid up her broad thigh.

            “Do you want me to get you first?” he murmured.

            It was sorely tempting, especially with his sturdy fingers so close to where she’d want them, but Cadash rather wanted the foreplay of seeing him come undone first.

            “No, tonight it’s you first,” she decided, sliding a hand down the front of his shorts to palm against his aching cock. Blackwall gasped, his hips bucking thoughtlessly into her hand. “Now, let’s get you ready, hm?”

            Cadash had used toys like this on her female lovers, but not before on a male, or at least not one with Blackwall’s set-up, so to speak, so she’d asked Bull about it, and he’d given her a few tips. He’d also been grinning ear to ear when she left.

            She’d bought the most expensive oil she could find—one that purported to warm quicker than others—and used her fingers to spread and relax Blackwall’s muscles in preparation. She could see that he was flushed under his beard, embarrassed to be getting this kind of attention, so she kissed his muscular thighs and smiled at him, cooing about how pleased she was to do this. And she was—it wasn’t something she’d considered with him before, but when he mentioned it, she’d been more than happy to agree to give it a try.

            Blackwall had never done this either.

            “There…how’s that now?” she said. “Does it feel more comfortable? No pain?”

            “Yes,” he panted. “It feels…well, still odd, truly, but not painful.”

            “Do you feel ready to try the toy now?” He was the one who was going to get fucked, but Cadash felt her cunt thrill at the thought of doing it to him.

            “Yes. I think we should try now,” he agreed.

            “Swell!” She hopped off the bed and started battling her way into the harness, thinking she really ought to have given this a practice run before showtime.

            “Do you need some help with that?” When she looked up at the bed, Blackwall was propped up on his elbows, his lips twitching.

            “Are you suggesting the inquisitor isn’t capable of putting on a strap harness alone?” Cadash asked.

            “I heard the inquisitor can put on a strap harness one-handed in the dark with a blindfold,” said Blackwall. It was a game of theirs, to make jokes about the ridiculous rumors that circulated about her. Cadash snorted.

            “Just you wait, and soon she will!” When it was all in place, she gave the phallus a tug to make sure it was secure, and then climbed back onto the mammoth bed with which Josephine had seen fit to equip her rooms.

            Blackwall was eyeing the thing between her legs with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, which Cadash tried to soothe with a long open-mouthed kiss.

            “All good to go?” she asked gently when she drew back.

            “I trust you,” he said, nodding.

            “Just let me know if it’s not working,” she reminded him, settling back between his legs. Regrettably, he was so tall that from here she could no longer kiss higher than his pillowy belly, but she could make do with that.

            She spread his legs a little further apart and positioned the toy.

            “I’m used to a bigger hole,” she joked, but Blackwall was too on edge to make a response before she began to wiggle the toy into him, pushing carefully to give him plenty of time to cry uncle if it was too much. “Doing alright?” she asked when the thing was halfway in, looking up. Blackwall was as red as she’d ever seen him, biting at his lower lip, but one thing she was sure of was that things were quite alright.

            “Yes, that’s—it’s—you can keep going,” he babbled. Cadash grinned and pressed further, sticking with the slow initial pace she’d set.

            “There we go,” she said quietly as she eased the toy in to the hilt. “You’re doing beautifully, sugar,” she said. “That’s it, that’s all there is. How’s that feel?”

            “That’s it?” he said.

            “Not enough, already?” Cadash laughed.

            “No, I just…I was expecting it would…hurt a little, I suppose, even if we did everything right.”

            “But the inquisitor—” Blackwall snorted. “It feels good, though?” she asked, light concern lacing her voice. She stroked his leg with one hand.

            “Still a little strange,” he admitted. “But certainly not bad.”

            “Are you ready for me to get fucking?” She tried not to sound too eager.

            “Let’s…give it a moment,” he suggested. Cadash nodded. She reached forward and gripped his cock lightly, sliding her hand up and down casually, until he grew impatient and gave her the go-ahead to start.

            “I’ll start slow,” she promised, and she did. She had to make him lay his legs flat, so she could reach to brace her hands against the bed on either side of his hips. Carefully, she shifted back, drawing the toy out. In the past, she’d drawn back too far at this moment and had to reinsert the toy, but this time she managed to keep it in, and thrust back in with just a bit more speed. The movement drew a soft groan from Blackwall, and Cadash felt a zing of triumph.

            “You just let me know if we need a break,” she told him, picking up just a bit of speed as she drew out and pushed back in.

            “I think we’re good,” Blackwall panted. It took only a handful of thrusts before he seemed to forget the discomfort and strangeness of the position, and Cadash moved faster, delighted with the look of thoughtless, helpless arousal on his face. “Oh, fuck, yes,” he groaned as she hit him again. “Maker, do you really have a natural talent for this?”

            “You’ll have to try with Josephine and then tell me,” said Cadash, but Blackwall choked on whatever he was going to say about that when she jerked her hips against him, shoving the toy smoothly back in. “I think you may be just a bit biased, though.”

            She could feel him trembling and when his cock began to leak precum, she moved faster still, until she was grateful being inquisitor was such an athletic position, because it took effort to do this.

            “That’s it,” she panted, trying to move closer, to make sure she was getting all of the toy in him with each thrust. “There it is, that’s it. Is that good? Is it what you wanted?”

            Blackwall just moaned, his head tipped back, his cock flushed and rigid amidst the nest of wiry black hair between his legs, and then he was gushing, spilling thick white release over himself, his muscles convulsing, and Cadash thought she must be dripping wet. As he began to come, she pushed the toy in one last time, and kept it there until he slumped limp onto the bed.

            “How was that?” she asked, chipper. Feebly, Blackwall flashed her a thumbs-up without lifting his head.

            “Bully!” Cadash snickered and slid off the bed to squirm out of the harness, which she left on the floor. She rejoined him quickly, laying down alongside him and snuggling up close. “You liked it?” she purred, resting a hand on his chest. Blackwall turned his head towards her, gripped the back of her red head with one hand, and dragged her forward for a wet, sloppy kiss which Cadash eagerly returned.

            “You are wonderful,” he said.

            “You really think?”

            “I think I owe you,” he replied, and into his eyes came that look which made fireworks go off in Cadash’s belly, when he wanted to show her a good time. One of his hands was already working between her thighs, up to the place where she was damp. He paused and smirked at her, but Cadash was unabashed.

            “I had a nice time too,” she said pointedly. Leaning in to kiss her again, Blackwall went on with his fingers, wasting no time in pressing them between her slick folds and into the core of her heat. Cadash moaned, bucking her hips, when he pressed his thumb against the root of her clit. They were tangled together, Cadash somewhat trying to hump his leg at the same time he fingered her, but the thrust of his thick fingers quickly had her too senseless to do much but lay there and take her pleasure.

            “How’s this, my lady?” Blackwall murmured, sliding a third finger into her cunt, flexing them so she could feel the spread.

            “Oh, fuck, yes,” Cadash gasped, almost whimpering as she rutted against his hand. “Yes, yes, yes, that’s good, that’s good!” Blackwall’s fingers were in up to the third knuckle when Cadash’s muscles tensed and she cried out, spasming against him as she came, digging her nails into his chest. Blackwall kept his fingers in her through her orgasm so that she came around his hand, gasping when she realized she’d been holding her breath.

            Only when she was quite finished did Blackwall withdraw his hand.

            “Well,” he said, as Cadash was still catching her breath, “I think we can consider that a successful experiment. Don’t you?”

            “Perfectly,” Cadash agreed, a dizzy note in her voice. She gathered herself back together and sat up to look at him. “So you liked it, then? Want to do it again?”

            “I would…certainly be amenable to that,” Blackwall said. “If you enjoyed it as much as it seems you did.” Cadash grinned.

            “I had great fun,” she said. “I’d fuck you anytime, sugar.”

            “I am an undeservedly lucky man,” Blackwall declared.