#it was small and left in the letterbox

[thetriumphantpanda]

i'm not the only one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | You have your baby. You have your family. But can you really have everything you want? Can you really have your cake and eat it too?

Warnings | Fluff, mentions of breastfeeding, small children (in my world they need to come with a warning because ew), let's say it one more time for old times sake: TOMMY GETTING CUCKED BECAUSE HE LOVES IT, dirty talk, fingering (f) and allusions to other smut.

Word Count | 1.9k

Authors Note | Wow. I just wanted to take some time to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read and supported me through this little fic. What started as a filthy little one-shot has become something super special to me. I'm so proud with how this turned out and I really hope that you love this ending as much as I do. I need to say a massive thank you to the JFC - @cavillscurls @dinsdjrn @morning-star-joy @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @sinsofsummers for continuously losing their mind over this fic with me and helping me come up with the ending where no-one gets their heart broken, I love you girls more than I can express 🧡 Thank you to each and every person who has read this, has given me their love, interacted with me and generally just made me the happiest girl for deciding to come back to fic writing. You're all awesome and I love each and every one of you. Please let me know what you thought of this, either by commenting, reblogging or sending me some love in my ask box, and if you'd like to support me with a donation, you can do so over on Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The late September sun is still warm, even as it begins dipping below the horizon, painting the sky a beautiful mix of pink and orange. The beer in your bottle is lukewarm, but you finish it off anyway, attention dropping to your son, sat on your knee, as you bounce it up and down to keep him occupied at the table. He’s just turned two and is a much better table companion at Joel’s birthday cook-out than he had been last year. He’s starting to show a little personality, babbling along when Sarah tried to talk to him, teasing Tommy when he hands his son a toy, throwing it to the ground because he already knows he’ll pick it right back up and play along. 

Everyone else has long gone by this point in the evening. This year’s celebration of Joel’s birthday being held at your house because he’s having his garden landscaped. It’s just the five of you, the people who matter most to you in life, sat around, finishing drinks and just enjoying each other’s company. Sarah yawns to your left, the day finally catching up with her. 

“You tired, bug?” Joel asks, smoothing a hand over her hair. 

“I’m not tired.” But she yawns again, chuckles erupting from the table. 

You poke at her arm, “Your room is ready whenever you are.” It had already been agreed that Sarah and Joel would stay here tonight, so he could have a drink and enjoy his birthday without worrying about driving home. 

To her credit, she lasts another hour sat at the table, but once Joshua starts fussing as well, it’s clear it’s time for everyone to call it a night. Joel kisses Sarah on the forehead, wishing her a goodnight as she heads inside. Tommy takes Joshua from your arms and presses a kiss to the top of your head, leaving you and Joel together for the first time that evening. You reach out your arm across the table, palm up to the darkening sky, Joel’s own, much larger hand, slipping into it. 

“Shall we go?” You ask, the smile across your face mirroring his own. 

“I think we should.” 

As you’re walking through the neighbourhood your mind drags back to this time last year and the conversation with Tommy as Joel’s birthday loomed on the horizon. 

“What do you think we should get him for his birthday?” Tommy asked, flipping through the catalogue of construction gear that comes through the letterbox every few months, “He was saying his toolbox is too small these days, maybe we can get him a bigger one?” 

Joshua is cradled against your chest, suckling as you feed him. You’d always wondered how the other women you knew could multitask before he’d been born. One of your best friends could breastfeed her child, cook dinner and talk to her older daughter all at the same time. Now, standing in the kitchen feeding your son, two pans on the stovetop as you cook, holding a conversation with Tommy, you realise it just came naturally. 

“I mean, we can,” You throw over your shoulder, “But I think that man deserves more than a toolbox for his birthday.” 

Once Joshua has finished feeding, you hand him to Tommy, along with placing a rag over his shoulder – you fed him, Tommy gets to burp him, that’s the deal. 

“I just feel bad,” You comment, going back to pushing the steak around the pan, “Do you not feel like you’ve kinda just abandoned him a little?” 

“What do you mean?” Tommy asks, patting his son on the back. 

You sigh, trying to focus on cooking as you speak, “I just mean that he did this for us, gave us this life we have now, and what are we going to do to thank him? Give him a toolbox? Just seems like we don’t care.” 

“Well, what would you suggest?” He asks, you're quiet in response, trying to think of how best to put this, "You miss him, don't you?" He finally asks.

You turn around, leaning against the counter to the side of the stove, “I do miss him,” You say simply, not afraid to admit it, “You said before Joshua was born that you understood the connection we have, I just want to give him something good.” 

Tommy has Joshua cradled in his arms now, trying to get him to go to sleep so he can lie him down and enjoy dinner with you in peace, "You wanna fuck him for his birthday?" There's a smirk on his lips, just like there was when you'd needed Joel before Joshua was born.

“Hey, language!” You chastise, pointing to his son in his arms, “Don’t say it like that either, you know you come first, you always have, I love you Tommy, but can’t we just give him one time, once a year, where I can really show him how grateful I am for what he gave us?” 

You can see him mull it over in his mind as he bounces his son in his arms before he relents, “Okay,” He’s smiling, and it reaches his eyes, so you know he really means it, “If that’s what you want, I’m happy.” 

You smile, walking over to kiss him, “I don’t deserve you,” You murmur against his lips, “I love you so very much, Tommy Miller.” 

Joel thinks, as he walks hand in hand with you back to his home, that he really didn’t need this. He didn’t need thanking for what he’d done. He remembers walking into your hospital room with Sarah after Joshua had been born – she’d insisted on picking the biggest and brightest bouquet of flowers for you and had been so excited to finally meet her nephew. He’d pushed open the door for her that day and had been overcome with a strange sense of satisfaction. 

You were propped up in bed, Joshua cradled in your arms, his tiny hand clutched around one of your fingers, Tommy stood, hand brushing your hair as he looked down at the both of you with pure adoration. He knew he’d given you everything in that moment, that he’d managed to make the two of you the happiest people ever, and that was enough. A fleeting moment in time between you and him, that had created the most beautiful baby boy he’d ever laid eyes on, he’d been happy to let it lie, to wait and see if you wanted more and came back to him down the line. 

He hadn’t expected that on his birthday last year, you’d have cornered him and kissed him with such passion that he wasn’t sure he’d survive once he pulled away from you. Then you explained, one night a year, he could choose when, where you could show him how thankful you were to him. A night just to yourselves, without Tommy’s eyes trailing over you both. Secret and sacred between the two of you. 

Once Joel has unlocked his front door and brought you inside, he wastes no time. He craves this, has spent the last year thinking of the moment he gets to fuse his lips with yours. It’s soft, as his mouth opens against yours, slow as your tongues meet, he doesn’t have to rush with you anymore, he gets you to himself for the whole night. He pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Hey.” You smile softly. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” He’s smiling, palms resting at your hips, “You want me to take you upstairs? 

You bite at your bottom lip and breathe out, “Yes.” 

He leads you up the stairs, your hand clutched in his own, through the threshold of his bedroom. He settles himself on top of his sheets, head propped up on his pillows as he motions you to join him. You clamber onto the bed, crawling up his body on your hands and knees until you’re straddling his hips with your mouth back on his. 

As you grind your hips down onto him, his hands coming to cup your ass under your dress, you can feel him growing hard for you. All you want is to strip him down and put your mouth on him, but it seems he has other ideas, and since this is all for him, you let him take the lead. He slips his hands under the waistband of your panties, warm hands on your flesh as he pulls them down as far as they’ll go in this position. 

“Lie down for me, babygirl.” He whispers against your lips, you oblige, settling yourself down on your back as he pulls your underwear off fully, shucking the hem of your dress up to your hips. 

He’s got one of his arms under your head, his lips at your ear as you spread your legs for him, letting his fingers slip through your folds to gather the slick that has slowly been gathering there all evening as you both watched each other, knowing what was coming. 

“So wet for me, pretty girl,” He breathes into your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth to nibble as he slips two of his fingers into your tight pussy, “Been thinking about me?” 

He drags those fingers from your core, up to your clit where he begins to play soft circles across it, it’s so gentle that your breath catches in your throat as you arch yourself into his hand, “Couldn’t stop,” You admit, turning your face to kiss his lips, “Thought about you all day.” 

He dips his fingers back into your cunt as he kisses you, you can feel him smirk against your lips when you grind down to meet his fingers, “I’ve been thinking about you all year, hot mama, couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.” 

He brings his slick fingers back up to your swollen bundle of nerves, showering it with attention as you whimper for him, arching your back and bucking your hips, fingers gripping at his arm as he works you to the crest. You come for him, moaning into his mouth as he kisses you, his fingers making sure they work you for every ounce of your orgasm. 

Joel has you more times than he can count that night. He brings you over the edge over and over again until you can do nothing but sob, beg for a reprieve but beg him not to stop. You let him put you in positions you didn’t know possible, his cock thick and heavy inside you, brushing that spot within you that makes you sing and scream for him. He fills you up with his cum, protected by the pill you take each morning, and then, when the sun is rising and the beginnings of the day break through his drawn curtains, you lie on his chest, fingers drawing patterns on his skin, slick with sweat. You’re both sore, both spent, and both happy, most importantly. You know that within the hour you’ll have to start the walk back to your own home and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. Sarah will think her dad slept on your couch and you were in your rightful place, in bed next to Tommy, and that's how it will continue to be for another year, happy with the man you love, but safe in the knowledge that you still have this slice of heaven each year. The play will continue for another year – the doting uncle and niece, the happy family with their growing son, and you’ll be happy, because this is all you’ve ever needed. 

“I love you.” Joel whispers, lips pressing a kiss to your forehead as he brushes the sweat slicked hair from your face, his eyes mapping every inch of you, claiming this scene as his own, committing it to memory so he has one thing he can think of, in the depths of his nights, when he feels the loneliest. To remind him that he’s not lonely at all, because even if he can only have you once a year, at least he can have you. He’s a simple man and he’s happy to take this one moment with you, until you decide you want more from him, if that’s ever the case. 

“I love you too Joel.” 

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller fluff #Joel Miller angst #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fan fiction #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Tommy Miller #Tommy Miller smut #Tommy Miller fluff #Tommy Miller angst #Tommy Miller fic #Tommy Miller fanfic #Tommy Miller fanfiction #Tommy Miller x you #Tommy Miller x reader #Tommy Miller x female reader #Tommy Miller x f!reader #The Last Of Us #The Last of Us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou smut #tlou fic #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Love Letters: Day Five

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [3K] A touch of a hand, only one bed with Steve.

THE LETTERBOX ♥

“Robin,” Steve hissed across the kitchen island, “Robin, I swear, I will actually kill you.”

The girl blinked, unfazed after so many years of friendship and empty threats. She grabbed the glass of water that Steve was definitely pouring for himself - not her - and grinned. 

“Sure you will. Do it in the morning, yeah? I’m beat,” she winked, backing towards the stairs where Nancy was waiting. “Sweet dreams… and you know, safe sex and all that.”

Steve glared, but his anger was overshadowed by the way his cheeks were glowing pink, even in the dark of the evening. 

You were waiting on the sofa, nervously picking at a loose thread on your shirt, pretending you didn’t hear everything that had just been said. Steve swallowed, blew out a deep breath and gave you a small, shy smile when you looked up and met his gaze. 

Honestly, Steve hadn’t even wanted to come on the trip. But it was Valentine’s weekend and despite breaking up a few months prior, Nancy and Jonathan were going above and beyond to assure the rest of the group that it totally wasn’t awkward and of course everyone could still hang out together. 

And what better way to prove that than to rent a cabin for a few nights out by Sugar Creek, courtesy of Mr and Mrs Harrington’s credit card, of course. Steve had shrugged off the offer at first, unbothered and wanting a weekend off to hang out in his room and be lazy, play some video games, reunite himself with his stash of playboys and maybe even catch a basketball game with some old school friends. 

But Robin begged and begged, claiming how much fun it would be, waxing poetic about forest walks and log fires and marshmallows and movie nights. The boy hadn’t perked up until she mentioned your name, and how you’d be joining. 

And that was fine. It was. ‘Cause you and Steve were friends, closer than ever, actually. Hanging out more and more just the two of you until Steve wasn’t sure what was just friends being friends and what was a date. But the first night at the cabin rolled in after pizza and some movies, a game of go fish that had alcoholic consequences and suddenly the bags that had been dumped at the doorway needed to be allocated to rooms. 

The three bedrooms. For seven people. 

Nancy and Jonathan cleared their throats and exchanged tight smiles, looking awkwardly around the room until Nancy’s voice went a little too high and bright as she exclaimed, “Robin! Roomies?”

Robin agreed, looking over at you with a silent apology, ‘cause she was the one who’s invited you. But you smiled and shrugged and weren’t all that surprised when Jonathan claimed Argyle and the two boys shuffled off to the room furthest away from Robin and Nancy’s. 

It just left you, Eddie and Steve. It seemed simple enough to deduce that you’d sleep on the sofa, sure that there’d be some spare pillows and quilts hidden in a closet or two. But Eddie threw himself down on the cushions before you could, stretching out and groaning theatrically, a grin on his face that seemed to be reserved for Steve. 

“Well,” he declared, beaming at you both as you stood shoulder to shoulder, lips parted in surprise. “Night night, kids.”

Steve made a strangled noise, somewhere stuck between surprise and a protest of some sort, but you beat him to talking. “Uh, wouldn’t I be better on the couch, Eddie?” you smiled, shy and sweet and it made Eddie grin wider. “You guys can bunk together instead.”

Eddie scoffed, already shrugging off his hoodie and throwing it somewhere across the room. “And leave a lady on the sofa?” He pouted at you. “What do you take us for, huh, sweetheart? Two douchebags?”

He didn’t give you a chance to protest. 

“Don’t sweat it, you and Stevie can share a room, it’ll be real cosy.”

You were definitely sweating it. And by the looks of the boy’s wide eyes and flushed cheeks, so was Steve. 

Eddie grinned again, salacious and as if he knew something you didn’t.  He lay back on the cushions, an arm sling behind his head as he waved the other at you both, fingers wiggling. 

“Leave room for Jesus,” he winked. 

————

Leaving space for the lord and saviour didn’t seem to be a possibility, ‘cause when you opened the door to the last bedroom, you stood and stared at the sight before you. From over your shoulder, with his chest almost pressed to your back, Steve swore quietly. 

There was only one bed. 

And it was tiny, less than a double, only a little larger than a single, with two pillows stacked on top of each other. You dropped your bag as you stepped into the room, a cosy space with matching pine furniture and deep green walls, almost the same shade as the forest outside the window. 

You spun on your heel, looking at Steve who was more flushed than ever, cheeks a pretty tint of pink and his lips were parted in a silent gasp that didn’t seem to end. He looked a little overwhelmed, the same way you felt. 

“Um—”

“Look, I can,” Steve interrupted, his voice a little weak, apologetic almost. “I can share the couch with Eddie.”

You frowned, a tiny stitch between your brows that Steve wanted to soothe away with the pad of his thumb. He didn’t. 

“Steve, the couch is smaller than the bed,” you huffed out a soft laugh but Steve could sense your nerves through the humour. He saw the way your chest was rising a little too quickly, the way you were pushing at your hair behind your ear. “And no offence to Eddie, but I think he might take up more room than me.” You smiled, shy and unsure and it felt like an offering. 

Steve smiled back, just as nervous, hands a little clammy ‘cause despite all the afternoons, the late nights and days out he’d spent with you, the closet he’d gotten was sitting beside you in the dark of his parents living room, shoulder to shoulder so he could feel you flinch when the movie screeched and the murderer appeared on screen. 

This was different. This was so much closer. This was more than the possibility of a date. 

“I could sleep in my car, or something,” Steve tried again but he really didn’t want to sleep in his car. But truly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to sleep next to you. The idea of it overwhelmed him. “I don’t wanna make you uncom—”

“Steve,” you cut him off, not unkindly, voice all soft and unsure and you were frowning again but shitshitshit, you looked sad. “Do I smell bad, or something? D’you think I have cooties..?”

“What?” The boy looked alarmed, “no! No, no, of course not. You smell, like, the opposite of bad.” Steve was rambling, his chest tight and hot with embarrassment but he couldn’t stop himself. “You smell like, super nice, all the time. Like, like mango or something. Cherries ‘n shit. Fuck.”

 You were grinning by the time he cut himself off with a curse, lashes fluttering shut as he winced and you wanted to reach out to him, curl your fingers around his in reassurance but you didn’t feel as brave as that. Not yet. 

“I won’t feel uncomfortable,” you told him instead and it warmed Steve to hear how sincere you sounded. “As long as you’re okay with it?”

Steve could only nod. 

And then you were disappearing into the tiny bathroom across the hall, a bundle that Steve assumed was your pyjamas clutched to your chest with your toothbrush. You smiled as you passed him, still shy, cheeks as flushed as his and you were pretty, you were so, so pretty that it made Steve’s chest hurt. 

The boy groaned into his hands when you closed the door, wondering how he was supposed to spend the night pressed up against you and not pop a boner. ‘Cause that shit had been happening most mornings for the last eight years and having a pretty girl tucked in beside him wasn’t a necessary ingredient. 

He heard you run the tap, the sound of your jeans and sweater hit the floor and he startled, rushing to pull out what he’d packed. Despite the extra pair of jeans, another sweater, a few t-shirts, a handful of boxers and the switched off walkie- talkie Dustin insisted he took, there wasn’t anything that Steve could wear to bed. 

He swore, groaning again as he threw his bag down onto the carpet and started to panic. Of course he didn’t pack pyjamas, he didn’t own pyjamas and he really didn’t expect to be sharing a room with anyone other than Eddie this weekend, maybe Robin, and neither of them certainly cared about him sleeping in his underwear. 

Steve was standing in the middle of the small room when you reappeared, still in his jeans and t-shirt, one hand buried in his messy hair. He smiled at you, an almost grimace that looked like an apology but it quickly faded into a slack jawed gape as he took in your shorts, your tiny tank top with tinier straps. 

You scrunched your nose as you dropped your clothes on top of your duffle, crossing your arms over your chest and you faced him with a new sort of shyness. Steve wasn’t sure he’d seen this much of your skin before.  

“Sorry,” you murmured softly. “I kinda assumed I’d be in with Robin.”

Steve let out a laugh, just as soft as your voice and he smiled a little easier. “Same,” he grinned before it faltered, nerves overshadowing once more. “I don’t, uh, I don’t have anything to wear to bed.”

You swept past him, mango and strawberry body wash left in the air behind you, as you sat on the edge of the bed, a heat to your cheeks that only you could feel. You swallowed hard, licked your bottom lip and tried to sound bolder than you felt. 

“You can take your jeans off, Harrington, I won’t bite.”

Steve turned beetroot at your words, lips parted and you swore you heard his breath hitch. But he nodded, hands fumbling at his waistband and you smiled, ducking your chin and turning away so he could undress with your eyes on him. 

You heard the denim hit the floor with a soft thump, his sweater following, until Steve cleared his throat and you turned back to see him in chequered boxers, a white T-shirt that looked old and soft. His hair was a riot from how he’d undressed so swiftly, eyes bright with nerves? Anticipation? Excitement?

There so much skin to see, all bare legs and arms between you both, your tank top revealing more of your chest that you’d usually put on display and when Steve stretched over the desk to turn off the small lamp, you caught a flash of his tummy, the trail of hair there, the jut of his hip bones before the room went dark. 

You couldn’t see him. Not with the absence of street lights outside the window, the tall forest hiding you both from the glow of the moon. But you felt Steve fumble over, heard him curse when his toes hit his bag and the bed dipped when his hands found it. 

“You got a preference?” He whispered, “what side do you wanna sleep on?”

You shook your head and shrugged before you realised that the boy couldn’t really see you either so you let out a breath and whispered right back. “I don’t mind,” you told him but you shuffled back anyway, crawling up the mattress until you could tuck yourself under the duvet. 

Steve followed, slowly, hesitantly, the sheets lifting and the bed dipped as he lay beside you, his head on the same pillow, close enough that you could smell his shampoo and the cologne he always wore. 

“Shit, sorry,” he winced when his hip bumped yours, an inevitable outcome considering the lack of space but the contact made your body burn so you could only hum back a response. 

The silence stretched on as your eyes grew used to the dark, until the ink black turned into shades of navy and you could see the outline of the furniture, the rise and fall of Steve’s chest beside you. The boy was as close to the edge as he could get without falling off, and you were almost sure he’d planted one foot on the ground below to ensure that didn’t happen.  You were on your side, body stiff and straight when your hands curled to your chest so you didn’t accidentally touch him and it was uncomfortable, it was impossible, it was frustrating. 

“Steve?” Your voice rang out like a bullet in the quiet, despite how softly you spoke and Steve startled. 

“Yeah?” Steve shuffled further away and your stomach dropped. “You good? I can go downstairs, honestly, there’s an armchair that looks like it might actually recline and I—”

You reached out, a hand across the mattress, across the cool space between you both until your fingers trailed across his arm. He was warm, much warmer than you and you let your hand curl around his bicep, underneath the cotton of his shirt and you felt him still. You circled your thumb on the inside of his arm, just once, in a way that you hoped was reassuring. 

Steve stopped talking. 

“You can come closer, you know,” you hated how shy you sounded, how unsure. But you were wearing next to nothing in bed with the boy you really, really liked and maybe it had been a stupid though, but you started to believe Steve liked you too. You couldn’t handle his rejection, not like this. “If you want to. It’s okay.”

You held your breath. Then, Steve moved, shifting across the sheets -  inches, really - until his leg was pressed to yours and then he rolled, settling onto his side and facing you. He finally relaxed, and you felt it, the way he sunk into the pillow, the way his breath left him in a long, soft sigh that smelled like spearmint toothpaste. 

You could make out the line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips. He was watching you, lashes fanning over the highs of his cheeks and Steve was all shades of blue and lavender in the shadows. You watched him part his lips as if to speak, but he decided against it, smiling softly instead.

So you whispered, “hi.”

His smile turned to something even more gentle, his body shifting a little closer still when you brought your hands to lay on the mattress between you both. Steve did the same, centimetres apart, close enough to feel the warmth from the other. 

“Hi,” he whispered back. He was looking at you like he thought you were magic, like you were made of gold dust, of stars. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, bottom lip tucked between teeth and it was okay, it was very, very okay. “Yeah, it’s okay, Steve.”

His heart clenched at the sound of his name on your lips, the way it always did, but Jesus Christ, you were whispering it to him in bed and it made him dizzy, made him see colours behind his eyelids that weren’t there when he blinked, hazy, feeling drunk. 

It made him feel braver. The dark, the blue shadows, the way you were looking at him like he wasn’t close enough. So he inched his hand forward, fingertips touching yours, a light graze, a small advance, a question, a what now? 

It was electric. 

Steve could’ve leant in, closed his eyes, found your mouth with his in the dark. Or maybe he’d wait until the last second, let his nose bump against your own until he could see your lashes flutter and your lips part for him.  

Would you do that? Would you let him? 

Your toes brushed his ankles, a shock of cold in the heat of the bed and it made Steve sigh, made his hand move over your own  a little more bravely. His pinky finger slid along the length of yours. He watched you swallow, eyes wide, bright even in the dark. 

He whispered your name, another question. Maybe a promise. It sounded like ‘please.’

You nodded, breath held in your chest until it burned, a white, hot lick of heat over your throat and it was delicate, it was insane, it was the best thing you’d ever felt until—

Steve leaned in, slow and careful, pupils blown wide and his nose pressed to your cheek  as you lifted your chin for him, lips parting so his slid over your own, a warm, soft kiss that made you gasp into his mouth. 

It was chaste until it wasn’t. It was gentle until your hand left Steve’s and they curled into the front of his shirt, soft cotton fisted between your fingers and you were pulling him closer still. His hand found your waist, slipping over and under the silky material of your pyjamas, an almost accident but he gripped you tighter when you pushed yourself into him. 

And then fingers were trailing up your side, a ghost over the dips and curve of your breast, almost too sensitive without a bra, too much bare skin to feel. Steve’s hand cupped your jaw, a soft cradle, a sweet hold until his thumb tugged at the corner of your bottom lip, sneaking between his mouth and yours so he could coax you to open up for him and you did with a breathy keen. 

Nothing else happened that night, but it was enough. You whispered into the night, kissed each other sweet and slow and deep and dirty and fell asleep tangled in each other. And in the morning, you avoided everyone’s knowing gaze, ignored the way Eddie grinned and wiggled his brows. 

“Good sleep?” He’d asked you both over a bowl of cereal, the smell of fresh coffee over taking the smoke from last night's fire. You flushed and Steve nodded, glaring at him. “Was there enough room for Jesus? Did he get squished? It’s really rude to squish Jesus, y’know.”

Neither you nor Steve answered, but the second night, you left even less room than the first. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurb #stranger things fic #LLFE

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 10: Baptism

Contents | Part 9 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) The morning after stirs up a new Ellis, one who returns home with a newfound fire.

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, religious imagery, sexual references, scenes of verbal & physical conflict. Readers must be 18+

"Shit." 

You stirred slowly at the sound of Father Benedict's voice, his weight disappearing from beside you, making the mattress bounce and the bed frame creak. 

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit shit." The words left him in a panicked hiss, each utterance catching between his teeth.

You opened one eye, vision fuzzy in the dull morning light, too tired to make sense of what was happening. Why was he swearing? Had he already begun to regret what you'd done?

He hurried across the bedroom in a blur of bare skin and frantic whispers, hopping and stumbling into a pair of underpants as he made his way towards the window. 

"What's wrong?" you croaked, watching as he craned around the curtain, peering down towards the ground outside.

A knock at the front door answered your question. He ducked down quickly, adjusting himself in his pants as he slowly rose back up again. Another knock. 

"Fuck," he whispered. "Shit, fuck-"

"Father?" a distant voice called out. "Father, are you in there?" 

"Is that June?" you asked quietly, eyes widening as you sat up and clutched the duvet to your bare chest, as though the sound of her voice alone was enough to make you feel indecent.

He groaned despairingly into his hands as she knocked again, calling out to him with concern through the letterbox. 

"What's going on?" you whispered. "Why is she here?" 

"Because I- shitting hell," he hissed. "I overslept."

"For what?" 

"Morning bloody prayer. I can't believe I-" He stopped, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before unlatching the window and pushing it open. "June! June, up here," he shouted, waving down at her with an apologetic smile. "I am... so sorry, I- I wasn't feeling well last night and I've slept in."

"You slept in?" she replied. Her voice was faint, the wind carrying most of it away. "But I've already opened the church doors-"

"No, no that's fine. Really, I just have to get dressed and then I'll be there." 

"Well people've already started arriving. What do I do in the meantime?"

"Tell her to try out some of her standup material," you muttered from the bed.

He choked back a laugh and swatted his hand at you, like a silent telling off. "Just-" He cleared his throat, taking a moment to straighten his face. "Just tell them I'm running late but shouldn't be more than a few minutes." 

You weren't sure if she said anything else after that - the woman tended to mumble at the best of times - but the sound of her footsteps fading over the gravel driveway made it clear she was retreating.

Father Benedict shut the window and turned around, blowing out a puff of air as he leaned back against the wall. "I can't believe I overslept." 

"You were up late, to be fair," you replied. 

He allowed his eyes to wander, just for a moment, over the messy bed, your bare thigh peeking through a gap in the duvet. "Still," he began, shaking it away and rushing to the wardrobe. "I have a responsibility to my congregation, I can't just... not show up, it's..." 

You sat quietly as he rummaged through his clothes, hanger hooks screeching as he moved them back and forth along the rail. He pulled out a shirt and shrugged it on, turning towards you as he buttoned it up.

"This isn't how I'd ideally have liked this morning to go. But I shouldn't be gone for more than a couple of hours," he said. "I lead prayer, then afterwards I host a small social meet for some elderly members, but it won't take long."

Your back straightened slightly. "Y-you... want me to stay here while you're gone?" 

"Yeah," he replied casually as he grabbed a pair of trousers and stepped into them. "Unless- Do you have to be somewhere?"

"No- well, not until later." 

"Okay. Just... help yourself to something to eat, preferably stay away from the windows-"

You giggled. 

"And I'll drive you home when I get back." 

"You really don't have to-"

"I want to."

You conceded, nodding softly and settling back against the headboard. 

He pulled open a drawer and grabbed a pair of socks before hooking his fingers into his shoes and making his way towards the door. "Okay, back soon." 

"You might want to fix your hair," you called out. 

He stopped, turning back to look at you as he ran a hand through the wild locks. "Better?" 

"It'll do." 

You sat on the back doorstep of the rectory, warming your hands on a mug of tea as you watched your dress blowing on the washing line. Last night's storm had given way to a mild morning, but the wind still had a bite, making the dress flutter and dance in the air, the bright yellow fabric billowing like a flag at full mast. You never drank tea; why you'd chosen to make some now was a mystery. It just felt right, the kind of thing a normal person would do whilst they sat waiting for clothes to dry.

The garden was quaint and secluded, a boarder of thick bushes and tall trees beyond the mossy stone walls, enclosing the small pocket of green in total privacy. You sipped your tea as birds chirped and bounced from tree to tree, the smell of the toast you'd made still drifting out from the kitchen.

Maybe this kind of life wouldn't be so bad, you thought. You were sure you could learn to like tea, hang washing on the line every morning, make breakfast as birds sang beyond the garden wall. You could bake cakes for parish fundraisers, have a bunch of kids and give them 'sensible' names like Jacob or Charlotte, take them to mass every weekend, say grace around the dinner table. Maybe it wouldn't matter that you didn't actually believe in any of it, because once the church doors closed and the kids went to bed, it'd be just the two of you. And he already knew, but he wanted you anyway. 

"God, Ellis, get a grip," you muttered. "One night together and suddenly you're the pastor's wife." 

You rose to your feet, pausing on the doorstep to gaze up at a blanket of soft grey clouds rolling in overhead. It was going to rain again, you thought. You made your way back into the kitchen and tipped the last of the tea down the drain, swilling the mug with water and drying it with a tea towel. It was nice to see an empty sink; no plates covered in dried food, no wet, grimy sponges or wine glasses rimmed with Gina's lipstick.

Gina. 

Your stomach turned at the thought of her; how she was probably at home right now waiting for you to come back, or maybe she didn't even care that you were gone. Could you even call that place home anymore? Home was supposed to be a sanctuary; a place of warmth, comfort, safety. Yet all that house seemed to be was a collection of closed doors, strangers with familiar faces and rooms you never spent time in.

The sound of the front door latch made you still, a click followed by a creak, footsteps moving through the house towards you. For a moment you worried it may not be him, how you would explain why you were there, alone, wearing clothes that didn't belong to you. But the fear was fleeting, quelling instantly when a deep, rich voice chimed from the living room.

"Ellis? Are you still here?" 

"Yeah, I'm in here," you replied. 

He stepped halfway through the door with a smile; the same smile you'd come to look forward to whenever you arrived at church. It was charming, gracious, every inch of his face brightening the moment he laid eyes on you. You smiled back, though you weren't sure you could ever produce an expression as naturally warm as his. 

"Hi," he said. 

"Hi." 

"Look what I found." He moved further into the kitchen, revealing a small leather handbag dangling by its strap over his index finger. 

He handed it to you with a smile and you thanked him in a relieved sigh, making your way to the kitchen table and unzipping it with haste. He pulled out the chair beside you and sat down too, stealing a piece of half-eaten toast from the plate you'd left on the table and munching on it quietly as he watched you. 

You took out your phone, tapping your thumbs with futility against the shiny black screen. "Dead," you said. "Thought as much." 

"I think I have a charger somewhere if-"

"Nah it's okay. Haven't paid my phone bill so it makes no difference anyway." 

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he swept the crumbs off his hands. "Do you want to use my phone?" 

"You have a phone?" 

"Why wouldn't I have a phone?" 

"I don't know, just hard to imagine a priest... texting."

"I text." 

You couldn't help the amusement creeping across your face, the thought of his name popping up on your screen; what would you save him as? Ben? Father Benedict? Perhaps just Father would suffice. Daddy?- No, Ellis.

"Do you think priests take vows to live like it's the 1800's or something?" he asked.

You shrugged. "I just assumed if you needed to use a phone you'd have one of those old rotary ones or something." 

"Oh my god." He laughed, too amused to notice the blasphemous slip. 

You slid the phone back into your bag and dragged the zip closed slowly, watching each metal tooth knit together with far more focus than the task required. 

He stopped laughing and cocked his head, eyes darting over your face. "Are you alright?" 

"Hm?" 

"You. Are you okay?"

You remained quiet for a moment, chewing the inside of your cheek in thought. "Y'know I've never liked that question. It's too broad, don't you think? Makes my brain feel all jumbled." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, okay in what sense? Physically? Mentally? Right this minute or in life in general?" You relaxed slightly into the back of your chair. "Sometimes, people don't even actually want to know how you are at all, they're just saying it instead of 'hello'..."

A smile curled slightly at one side of his mouth. "Well I actually want to know how you are." 

"In which way?" 

"Let's go with all of them. How are you? In every iteration." 

"Hm. Well, physically, I'm tired, a little sore, my foot is killing me. But emotionally I feel... weirdly calm; like last night changed something in me. But I'm not necessarily sure that's a bad thing."

"You feel different?"

"Yeah. Don't you?" 

He let his head fall slightly to one side, his gaze turning distant, just for a moment. "No." He shook his head, focusing his attention back on you. "Honestly, I thought I would. I went to sleep last night convinced I'd wake up full of regret and shame and- no offence-"

"Mm," you replied sarcastically.

"But I didn't. I still felt... like me. Like nothing's changed." 

"Even after all that sinning you did?" you joked. "You sinned a lot, father." 

He dropped his head to hide a smirk. "Hey, what happens in the rectory stays in the rectory." 

Your shoulders shook with a chuckle, making him smile. 

"I like it when you laugh," he said softly. "You don't do it enough." 

You glanced across at him; at those sea foam eyes, so striking against the tired red of their waterlines. 

"I have a stupid laugh," you replied quietly. 

He smiled, shifting in his seat to move himself closer, his body leaning in slowly towards you. "You have a lovely laugh."

It was strange, how even after a night like last night - after growing so familiar with the intricacies of his body and submitting yours so willingly to him - the sight of his face edging closer, lips parting gently in anticipation, was still so butterfly-inducing. 

You'd resigned yourself to the idea that you'd never get to kiss him again, that when the sun rose that morning, all of the intimacy you'd shared would be washed away with last night's storm. Yet here you were, gazing at him through heavy lashes, your focus rolling slowly back and forth between his eyes and mouth as you sat perfectly still, letting him come to you. Closer and closer until you couldn't see anything but him, couldn't hear anything besides your own heartbeat, the gentle pattering of rain against the kitchen window. 

Rain. 

"Oh, shit!" You jumped up quickly and bolted to the back door, throwing it open and hurrying over the grass towards the washing line.

You were back in the dress, although you weren't sure it resembled sunshine much anymore. There were patches that hadn't fully dried, smudges of dirt from holding your shoes in your lap, and a small bloodstain on the skirt. Yesterday, you'd felt pretty when you put it on. Today, you hadn't even dared glance at your own reflection. 

Father Benedict turned the heat up in the car, sliding the vents to point the warm air in your direction. You were thankful for it, relaxing back into the seat and staring out the window as he drove, slowing for a red light almost as soon as he pulled out of the church grounds. 

"So where are you going to say you were last night?" he asked. 

You could tell the question had been itching to get out, dancing on his tongue until he finally found the right moment to let it spill. 

"I haven't thought about it," you replied. "Suppose it's none of their business where I was." 

"What if anyone else asks?" 

You narrowed your eyes at him, sensing there was a specific answer he wanted to hear, one that would free the tension he'd been holding in his shoulders since he'd got behind the wheel. 

"I'm not going to tell anyone what happened, Father," you finally replied, trying your best to make your voice sound soft, reassuring, trustworthy. 

He glanced over at you for a second before fixing his gaze back on the road, the light finally turning green again.

"Thank you," he said. "I mean, it's not that I- I'm not saying I want to pretend this never happened or anything. I just..."

"Want to pretend this never happened." 

He laughed gently through his nose. "No. I just need to figure out the best way to navigate through-"

"Navigate," you groaned teasingly. "God, you sound like an internet life coach."

He rolled his eyes. "Navigate is a perfectly normal word."

"It's a fluffer. You're fluffing up the point you're trying to make." 

He looked at you again, longer this time. "Alright. I don't want to give up my priesthood." 

"I know. I never expected you would." 

"It's who I am. My faith, it's... such an integral part of me. And that's not me saying last night wasn't also me. I just... You've thrown some things into question, made me act in ways that definitely wouldn't go down well if the church found out." 

"I made you?" 

He smirked. "Mhm, all your fault." 

You turned back to the window, biting your lip to suppress a smile. "At least you won't have to deal with me hanging around the church anymore." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well I admitted I lied. I'm just a big fat nonbeliever. No reason for me to attend services anymore." 

He paused in thought, steering the car smoothly with his large, agile hands. The movement made you shiver; the sight of his fingers curling around the wheel, the protruding knuckles and prominent veins, even more attractive now you knew what it felt like to have them on you. 

"So does that mean you won't be coming to help out on Thursday?" he asked, entirely oblivious to your ogling. 

"Thursday?"

"The communion session."

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, exasperated exhale. "Shit," you whispered. "I forgot about that."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," he said. "I can make do-"

"No, no, I offered to help out."

With every traffic light, every turn of a corner and familiar street, you felt the tension turning your limbs to stone. Nerves flooded your stomach at the thought of walking back into that house, confronting the people you somehow wanted to slap and thank at the same time. 

Father Benedict bumped the kerb gently, rolling to a stop beside the front gate. He pulled the handbrake, the car plummeting into silence as he switched off the engine, the only sound coming from your deep intake of breath, the sigh that left you as you turned your head to face him. 

You took a moment to look at him, to let your eyes skim over every line and curve of his face. You would see him again, of course you would, but not like this. 

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" he asked.

You nodded, allowing a quick smile before grabbing your bag and the straps of your shoes. 

"Ellis..." 

You glanced back up to find him staring straight ahead through the windshield, head tipped back slightly against the headrest. 

"I meant what I said last night." He didn't look at you. "You shouldn't let anyone who isn't worthy go near you again." 

It made everything feel more real, somehow, hearing those words repeated without the cloud of heat and lust surrounding you. 

"Promise me," he said, finally making eye contact. 

"I promise." The words left you in an awkward stammer, mouth moving before your brain had a chance to catch up. 

You undid your seatbelt and reached for the door handle, the hinges groaning and grinding as you pushed your elbow against the door, always forgetting how stiff it was until you found yourself fighting to open it.

You leaned all of your weight into it, but it didn't budge. "It's jammed," you said. "Like actually jammed this time." 

He sighed and unclipped his seatbelt. "Honestly, this piece of shit car," he mumbled as he leaned over to help.

His body was stretched across yours, so close you could see the muscles straining in his neck, feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. You pressed your back into the seat to give him more room, watching his throat bob with a hard swallow as he pushed on the door, finally getting it to open.

"There we are," he groaned. 

"Thanks," you said softly.

He looked at you, still leant over your body, eyes falling to your chest as it rose and fell with slow, heavy breaths. And when his gaze snapped back up to meet yours, there was an entirely different expression on his face. 

"Alfie!" Gina's voice screeched in the distance, turning the heat between you ice cold. 

You turned to see her on the front doorstep of the house, her panic and anger clear despite the distance between you. 

"Alfie! It's Ellis, she's back!"

You sighed and climbed out of the car, closing the door behind you with your hip.

"Where the fuck have you been!?"

You didn't answer her, walking barefoot over the pavement towards the gate, barely getting it open before Alfie appeared at her side. He pushed past her, steam practically rising from the top of his head as he came bounding down the path towards you. 

"What the fuck are you playing at, Ellis!?" he shouted. 

You'd never seen him like this before, so aggressive in his movements, clenched teeth and balled fists, the fury palpable beneath his skin. 

"Just disappearing like that!? Not answering your phone all night!? Do you know how fucking worried we've been!? We were this close to calling the fucking police!-" 

He stopped a few feet away from you, his focus shifting to the tall figure emerging from the car. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as he watched Father Benedict approaching. 

"Don't I know you...?" he muttered in confusion. 

"It's the vicar," Gina called out, hurrying down the path. 

"Priest," you corrected bluntly.

"Really, Ellis?" Alfie snarled. "Is this a fucking joke!? I've been up all night with no idea where you were, and you've been with him!?" 

He marched angrily towards you, stopping suddenly when Father Benedict stepped in the way.

"Whoa there," your priest said calmly, voice so deep it was almost inaudible.

Alfie took a breath, back straightening as he glared at the man in front of him. "What? You think I was going to hit her?" He sneered in genuine offence. "What kind of man do you think I am?" 

"Probably best I don't answer that question," Father Benedict quipped.

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Let's just calm down and go inside," said Gina, grabbing Alfie by the sleeve of his shirt.

He shrugged her off. "No. I want to know who the fuck this guy thinks he is." 

"He's the guy who let me sleep on his couch when I said I didn't want to come home," you said. "Because I caught my boyfriend fucking my best friend, in case you'd forgot that part." 

"Oh of course you're piping up now you've got this dick head sticking up for you." 

Father Benedict smiled, which only seemed to irritate him more.

"What's a priest doing getting all pally with some random woman who doesn't even believe in God anyway? It's fucking creepy, you're a fucking creep." He pointed his finger in his face, spitting the words at him. 

"Put the finger down," he said calmly. 

"What? This?" He began pushing it hard into his chest, poking and prodding him roughly.

"Oh Alfie, grow up," you said. 

"I understand you've been worried about her," said Father Benedict, gripping him firmly by the wrist to stop the childish assault. "But taking your anger out on me isn't going to solve anything. I was just dropping her home." 

"Do you want a medal?" He snatched his hand away. "Want me to thank you for harbouring her in your house while I worried sick all night?" 

You couldn't help but scoff. "I wouldn't have left in the first place if you hadn't been sleeping with-"

"You shut-"

It all happened so fast you barely had time to react; Alfie turning towards you, pointing in your face as he took another quick, belligerent step forward. Father Benedict intercepting with a swift swing of his arm, his fist cracking against the side of his face and knocking him to the ground. 

You took a sharp breath, somewhere between a gasp and a choke, watching as Gina dropped to her knees at Alfie's side with a panicked yell. Father Benedict sucked in the air through his teeth, hissing as he shook his hand, a pained expression scrunching his nose. 

"Oh my god," you breathed, grabbing him by the upper arms and pulling him back, dragging him over to the car.

"Fuck sake," he whispered, opening and closing his fist. 

"I can't believe you just did that." 

"I'm so sorry, I just- I thought he was going to-"

"What the fuck!?" Gina shouted. "Aren't you supposed to be a fucking pacifist or some shit!?" 

Alfie groaned, pushing her hands away as she tried to examine his face. 

"Just go inside, Gina, Jesus Christ!" you shouted. 

You took his hand in yours and he let you hold it for a moment, looking over the grazes on his knuckles in stunned silence.  "It's okay, I'm alright," he said, gently pulling away and shaking it out again.

"You prick," Alfie spat as he clambered to his feet.

You sighed, nodding towards the car. "You should go." 

He hesitated, eyes darting between his hand and the face he'd just pummelled with it. 

"I'll be fine," you insisted. "Honestly. He's a dick but he wouldn't hurt me." 

"Forgive me for finding that hard to believe." 

"He wouldn't, I swear. I just want to go upstairs, get a shower, get my stuff together. I'll be alright." 

There was a deep, reluctant rumble in his throat before he finally gave in, turning to make his way to the driver's side door. You exhaled a shaking breath, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched him get in, trying to ignore the chaos still erupting behind you. 

He got in the car and shut the door, concern etched between his brows as he looked at you through the passenger window. You gave a reassuring smile and waved him off, stepping back through the gate.

"Wait, Ellis," he called as he rolled down the window and leaned over. "Here." 

You walked closer, plucking a small piece of paper from his outstretched fingers. 

"If you need me," he said simply. 

You looked down at the paper as the car rolled away, a mobile number scribbled hastily across it, 'I text' written below. You laughed to yourself and closed your fist around it, turning on your sore, bare heels and making your way up the path towards the house. 

You'd made it halfway upstairs when you heard the front door slam behind you, the sound of footsteps hurrying after you. 

"Wait, Ellis," Gina barked. "Do you not think we need to talk!?" 

You spun around, looking down at her as she followed you. "No, I don't." 

"I'm pressing charges on him," said Alfie.

"He was protecting me," you replied angrily. "He thought you were about to hit me." 

"Look, I don't care about what happened out there," said Gina. 

"I fucking do," Alfie mumbled. 

"We need to talk about yesterday." 

You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs. "You mean when I walked in on you screwing my boyfriend?" 

"Ellis-"

"How long? Actually, y'know what? I don't care. You're welcome to him. I was done anyway." 

"What?" Alfie shouted, jogging up to catch you. 

You walked down the landing to your bedroom, turning just before you reached the door. "I was done. With us." 

He pushed past Gina, making his way towards you. There was a bright red mark on the side of his face, a cut on his lip and blood smeared around his nostril. You almost felt bad for him, but then he spoke. 

"You are fucking him, aren't you!" 

You sighed, opening the door and stepping into your room. "What are you-"

"The priest! That's where you were last night, that's why he just punched me in the face like some fucking yob in a nightclub-"

"Anything to make yourself feel better about what you did, Alfie." 

You slid open a drawer and pulled out a towel, wedging it under your arm as you fished for some clean clothes. 

"You're not denying it," he said from the doorway. 

"I have denied it, you just don't want to listen." 

"Bullshit. You've been acting different ever since you started going to that church. I knew there had to be a reason for it. It's not normal, Ellis! And I don't buy for one second you've just made innocent pals with that guy. It's- It's weird! Leaving me here so you can go and spend time with that-"

"Do you know what, fine. Yeah, I slept with him," you began, walking towards him. "And do you know something else? He was better, and bigger, and more skilled than you could ever hope to be." 

He swallowed, his face hard and unamused, eyes scanning your face in an attempt to figure out if you were lying or not. 

You came face-to-face with him, leaning in to speak slowly and quietly. "He made me come so hard he had to cover my mouth just to keep me quiet." 

You elbowed past him, leaving him speechless behind you. 

"Ellis," said Gina, standing in the way of the bathroom. "I just want to talk-"

"I don't have anything to say," you interrupted bluntly. "Our entire friendship has just been you keeping me around to make yourself feel better. Patronising me, infantilising me, making me feel so wildly uncomfortable about who I am. You've made it very clear you can have any man you want, yet you decided to fuck mine. All because I stood up to you at the christening, made you feel stupid for half a fucking second." 

She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. "It's not like that." 

You stepped around her, pushing into the bathroom. 

"I think I actually have feelings for him, Ellis." 

"Of course you do. And you know what? Congratulations. I'm glad it's you he'll be flailing about on top of instead of me." 

Her jaw sharpened, teeth grinding behind pursed lips. "Y'know... I think you should probably look for somewhere else to live..." 

You gave a dry laugh. "Shags my boyfriend then kicks me out. Classic Gina." 

You slammed the door and locked it, letting your forehead rest against the wood for a moment as you caught your breath. That was so unlike you. All of it. The harshness, the sarcasm, the honesty. It felt good. So why were you trembling?

You stripped off your dress and sat on the edge of the bath, gently peeling away the dressing from the sole of your foot. It didn't look as bad as it felt, the dried blood covering a small slice, the skin around it darkening with a bruise. 

You turned on the shower, holding your hand beneath the water until it warmed up, watching the stream run off the tips of your fingers like ribbons. This water was going to cleanse you; wash away the dirt and sweat and rain, the anger, the shame. You were going to scrub it all away and step out anew. 

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @veryladyqueen @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi

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#benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch imagine #benedict cumberbatch smut #benedict cumberbatch fanfic #benedict cumberbatch fanfiction #priest!benedict #priest kink #hot priest #fanfic smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic writing #smut writing #smut fanfiction #smut #eventual smut #lemon #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch x you #benedict x reader #benedict x you #fanfic series #sherlock smut

[dduane]

Mrs. Duane, I am slowly and determinedly collecting the entire DC Star Trek run from secondhand shops and the like, and as the charmingly named letterbox "Hailing Frequencies Open" has been closed since the 90's, I am writing in to say that your issue "The Last Word" is by far my favorite of the run. It's emotional, articulate, and an excellent showcase for Dr. McCoy. I have often wondered if the experience of holding Spock's katra had any aftereffects, and feel the entire concept of katra is underexplored in canon, so it was a treat to see the concept used so well in this issue. One bit that fascinated me is the image of Spock warning McCoy not to try a mind meld again. Is that a sort of mental warning system, appearing to McCoy in a form he will (begrudgingly) listen to? Is it an echo of the actual Spock, the marks left behind when Spock's mind left? I don't expect an actual answer, but it sure made me think. "The Last Words" is an excellent, exploratory issue and I'm very glad I found it in the 50-cent bin. (I would have paid 50$ if they'd asked).

I'm delighted you enjoyed it!

As usual, working with McCoy is always a pleasure. Working with him at the psychiatric end, doubly so. Because if a ship's CMO isn't shrink-effective—being, after all, responsible for the mental health of the spacefaring equivalent of a small town, one subject to a plethora of unusual stressors—then somebody's missing something. ...And when Vulcans are, or have been, part of the equation? Things can only get more interesting.

Anyway, thanks for letting me know you had a good time with it. :)

#Star Trek #Star Trek comics #“The Last Word”

[fanficshiddles]

The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 42

‘Oh, be careful with that one, it’s pretty heavy.’ Claire said to Severus when he picked up one of the many boxes that littered the room.

He just turned to look at her with an accusing eyebrow up.

‘Oh… yeah… I forget, sorry.’ Claire said sheepishly.

She grabbed another box and dumped it on top of the one he was currently holding. He was now hidden, but she heard a small annoyed grunt come from him before he turned and made his way out of her flat with the boxes.

Claire looked around her living room, there wasn’t much left to take down to the van aside from more boxes.

It was the first week of the summer holidays and it was the day she’d been looking forward to for so long. Moving day!

Matt and Jessica had volunteered to help Loki and Claire, Severus didn’t want to but apparently his partner had talked him into helping. Saying it would be nice to lend a hand since no one else was able to.

With four of them being vampires, it was pretty easy. So everything was down and in the rented van in less than an hour. Even with Claire pausing to stare at Loki while he singlehandedly carried her favourite bookcase out of the flat, Jessica almost caught her drooling.

Jessica, Matt and Severus waited downstairs by the van while Claire and Loki locked up.

‘You alright, love?’ Loki asked as Claire looked around one last time at the empty place.

‘Yeah. Bittersweet. This was my first place of my own, it’s been a lovely little flat.’ She smiled at him as they walked out.

She turned around and locked the door for the last time, then slipped the key through the letterbox, per the landlord’s request.

‘Now you’re away to live in a vampire’s lair. You must be barking mad.’ Loki teased as he put his arm around her shoulder.

‘I know, I don’t know what I’m getting myself into.’ Claire giggled and grinned up at him. She slid her arms around him and leaned into his body.

Loki leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. ‘I’m ecstatic that you’re moving in with me, love.’

‘Me too. I can’t believe it.’ She continued grinning as they turned and made their way down the corridor to the stairwell.

They met with the others outside, Loki drove the van to his place while Matt, Jessica, Severus and Claire went in Matt’s car.

‘Man, I am hungry. We should get something ordered when we get to Loki’s.’ Jessica said as her stomach grumbled.

‘Me too. It is after lunchtime now after all.’ Claire said in agreement.

There was a sound of rustling from the front passenger seat, where Severus sat. Jessica and Claire peeped over to see what he was doing and Matt turned his head to look, all their eyebrows raised upwards at the same time.

Severus was opening up a home-made sandwich. He turned his head to see the others glaring at him.

‘What?’ He asked.

‘You’ve got food! Nice of you to offer to the rest of us.’ Jessica huffed.

Severus shrugged and bit into his sandwich. ‘Not my fault if my partner thinks to make me lunch and yours doesn’t.’ He drawled with a very slight smirk.

‘We still need to meet this partner of yours.’ Matt commented as he kept his eyes back on the road.

‘I’m beginning to wonder if she even exists, maybe you made that sandwich yourself.’ Jessica teased.

‘You’ll all meet her… eventually.’ He huffed.

‘Why won’t you even tell us her name?’ Matt asked.

‘Because it’s none of your concern.’ Was Severus’ clipped response.

Claire and Jessica shared a look with one another and stifled a laugh.

When they got to Loki’s, they carried a few boxes inside then Jessica asked what everyone wanted ordered from a fast-food restaurant down the road.

‘Are you not hungry, Severus?’ Loki asked him as he was about to head back outside to get more things from the van.

‘No. I want to get this done as soon as possible.’ He said in response and carried on outside.

‘He’s already eaten.’ Claire sniggered at the look of confusion on Loki’s face.

They got everything unloaded and inside by the time the food arrived. Severus was happy to get home, leaving the others to eat.

‘Thank you for helping.’ Claire said to Matt and Jessica.

‘Anytime.’ Jessica smiled.

‘Means you owe us a favour, so I’ll give you a call if I move house in the near future.’ Matt teased.

‘Deal.’ Claire laughed.

-

Claire flopped onto the bed on her stomach with a groan. Loki chuckled and crawled on beside her, he lay on his side next to her and slid his hand underneath her top to stroke her back.

‘I’m so tired.’ She groaned.

‘At least that’s everything unpacked, so we have the rest of the holidays to relax and have fun.’ Loki hummed and trailed his fingers around her back, making her skin tingle as she let out a little groan.

‘True. Though you did all the heavy lifting, how are you not passed out yet?’ She laughed as she turned her face to the side to look at him.

He grinned and slid his hand up to stroke the back of her neck, making her melt completely. ‘It takes a lot more than that to exhaust me, darling.’

‘Mmmm.’ Claire grumbled as she closed her eyes, getting lost in the way he was stroking the back of her neck.

‘Why don’t I go run a nice warm bubble bath, then you can sashay your tired pretty little ass through and join me in it? hmm?’ Loki whispered and leaned over to kiss the top of her head.

‘Or… Once it’s ready, you could carry me through?’ Claire asked as she opened her eyes and fluttered her lashes at him, with a sweet innocent smile.

Loki raised an eyebrow and smirked. ‘So lazy.’ He teased.

‘Maybe I just want you to show off your strength by manhandling me.’ She said innocently and hid her face down against the duvet.

Loki chuckled and tickled down her back, making her squeak and her body jerk. He slipped off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, Claire could hear the sound of running water and she waited patiently for him to come back.

Five minutes later, he returned completely nude. Her cheeks turned a bit red as he scooped her up into his arms with a growl and tossed her over his shoulder, smacking her ass in the process that made her yelp. He carried her through to the bathroom with ease and placed her down on her feet.

‘Manhandled enough?’ Loki asked with a smirk as Claire went up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck so she could kiss him.

‘Perhaps.’ She giggled and they kissed again, slowly it got a little heated and their tongues delved together for a moment.

‘Come on. Get these clothes off and get in the tub.’ Loki demanded as he tugged at her t shirt.

‘So bossy.’ Claire laughed as she began undressing, while Loki climbed into the tub. ‘Bloody hell, how can you make such a large bath tub look so tiny? There’s no room for me.’

Loki grinned as he couldn’t quite stretch out fully, but it was still comfortable enough for him. ‘There’s always space for my little vampire slut. Come on.’ He reached his hand out towards her.

Claire took his hand and he helped her into the tub. The hot water felt so good for her bones as she sank down. Loki positioned her between his legs, with her back against his chest. There was, surprisingly, plenty of room for them both. They fit together so well.

‘You’re actually so comfy.’ She giggled and let her head rest back against his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek. ‘Told you there’s always space for you.’ He rumbled and began kissing along her shoulder.

Claire sighed in contentment, though it wasn’t long before Loki began sparking that flame within her. His kissing of her shoulder got more sensual, and he moved back towards her neck, sucking softly on the spot that always drove her nuts.

‘You can feed if you want to… It’s the least I could do after you helping me move today.’ Claire said softly.

‘Are you sure, love? I know you’re tired as it is.’ Loki hummed as he trailed his lips over her neck.

‘I’m sure. I’m tired anyway so it won’t make a difference if I pass out.’ She laughed.

Loki chuckled against her neck, he tightened his hold around her middle and with his other hand he slid it slowly down her stomach, then lower.

‘Well… if I feed, I need to make you feel good too, of course. It’s only fair.’ He purred as his hand moved between her thighs, it felt a little strange for her under the water but she was already pretty aroused just at the mere thought of Loki feeding off her again.

She could feel Loki’s cock hardening behind her against her ass, also just at the thought of drinking her blood.

While Loki slowly started teasing her with his fingers, gently stroking around her clit but not quite directly on it yet, he kept kissing and sucking her neck, finding the right place where he was going to bite.

When he had her squirming in desperation, he gave in and began stroking her clit directly, making her moan and sink further back against him. As he trailed his finger lazily over her sensitive clit, his sharp fangs emerged and lightly grazed her skin, marking where he was going to strike.

‘Mmm, Loki.’ Claire whimpered.

Loki slowly inserted two fingers into her, she was a little tighter because of the water washing away her arousal, but he felt her body clenching around his digits in pleasure as he curled them just right against her g spot.

When he felt her about to cum on his fingers, he let out a hiss as he sank his fangs into her neck. Claire cried out from the sensation of being bitten, it always stung at first with the initial piercing of the skin, then made her feel rather light headed and floaty when he started to drink her blood. Though the endorphins he gave her through his fangs made her feel euphoric, not to mention his timing was impeccable as he made her cum at the same time.

Loki’s head was floating too, from the taste of her. He could never get enough of her, he was actually torn over what was more pleasurable for him, drinking her blood or sex. It gave him such a rush of adrenaline and a spike of pleasure all through him while her blood flowed down his throat.

Claire’s eyes began fluttering and she started going hazy from the loss of blood. Loki knew when to stop, as always. He never went too far. Even if the temptation to drink her dry was there, the need to keep her safe and protected was far stronger and always would be.

When he released her neck, he let out a groan, licking his fangs and lips, getting the last of her taste. A few drops of her blood dripped into the water, though it didn’t take long to disperse through the water. Loki would never waste enough of her blood to taint a bath full of water.

‘Are you still with me, love?’ Loki asked quietly as he gently turned her head to face him.

Her eyes were a bit dazed, but she managed to look at him. He had a little bit of blood on his chin. She wiped it with her finger and slid it into his mouth, he instantly sucked on her finger as she smiled.

‘I’m good.’ She whispered weakly.

#tom hiddleston #loki #loki x ofc #fluffy loki #loki fic #vampire Loki #the redbridge hunts

[spiderrrling]

My love, my life - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary - you're packing for college but a certain someone has decided to help you unpack

A/n - im having eddie x college! reader brainrot because im going to uni tomorrow so <3 enjoy what im gonna call the eddie college series, edits found on Pinterest but I can't find the original creators!

Little traces of you

It would have been a lie to say that your room was anything close to clean, quite frankly it looked like a bomb had gone off. As it turns out packing for college is a lot more chaotic than you would have liked.

At the same time it didn't help that for each thing you attempted to pack away into one of your countless boxes, Eddie made it his personal mission to put it back where he meant it belonged as discreetly as possible thinking you wouldn't notice.

A painstakingly slow process, and you didn't have the heart to tell him that it was making a difficult day darker.

You knew he didn't want you to go, that while he hadn't said it you knew he had been counting down the days until you left since the day the thick college acceptance letter slid through your letterbox.

His heart was going away, how could he not be doing everything in his power to try and keep it where it belonged.

But in reality he knew you didn't belong here, in Hawkins Indiana where there was nothing for you. You should be out there, and he was determined that one day he would join you.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Do I need to send you home?" You had to bite back a smile, he was hunched over one of your boxes, his big silver clad hands roaming through it, one of your sweatshirts between his fingers and he knew he'd been caught.

"No please I'll behave-" he immediately dropped the shirt back into the box 

"Do you really need to pack all of these things?" His eyes scanned over the sea of boxes that littered your bedroom floor, some empty and some overflowing with all your possessions. 

"I mean I am moving Eds" 

"What about-" he hesitated for a moment, almost not sure if he wanted to ask the question gnawing away at what was left of his sanity. "What about when you come back?"

"Are you worried I'm not gonna come back Eddie?" You saw through him, you always did. 

Your eyes finally landed on him, he sat cross legged on your bed with one of the stuffed animals he got you tucked away on his lap, thumb and pointer running over the worn and threadbare fabric of the bunny's ear.

He looked so soft, a state of vulnerable you had never seen on him before, 

Slowly he nodded in response, the dark mess of his curls moving in tact with his head, and a little part of your heart broke right then and there.

You closed the small space that divided you with hurried steps, avoiding piles of books and clothes on the floor. Standing at the edge of your bed Eddie moved his arms around your waist to pull you closer, his head pressed against your tummy and he breathed in the soft scent of your detergent. His dark curls crushing against you.

"You know I'm coming back right?" your voice dropped and you moved your fingers into his hair, trailing your nails along his scalp softly and you swore you heard him sigh as he melted into you.

"But are you though?" Eddie's voice was muffled as he spoke directly into your shirt.

"Of course, gotta make sure you're not causing any trouble without me," you chuckle and Eddie swears it warms his heart.

"And you'll call?"

"Every night,"

"Do you think I can fit in your packing?"

"I'm sure we can hide you in my dorm,"

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie x me #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem reader

[natashasnoodle]

A Friend From Work | Robin Buckley x Female Reader

Masterlist | R.B Masterlist

Words: 3.1k

Summary: Starting work at Scoops Ahoy was daunting enough without seeing the girl you've had a crush on for years standing behind the counter.

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

The mall was bustling with people as you walked through it, which was not helping with the embarrassment of having to wear your new Scoops uniform. No one was actually looking at you, but as you made your way through the hustle and bustle you could have sworn that you had a million eyes on you. But in reality, everyone else was enjoying their Saturday, laughing with friends, buying food, and looking for new clothes. You were invisible to these people, especially as most people in the mall had seen the Scoops uniform at least once, so they couldn't care less. They just saw you as an employee.

But still, you anxiously tugged on the small tie as you made your way over to Scoops Ahoy for your first shift since being hired. You had only been in once with your Mom and were served by Steve Harrington, which shocked you at first and you stood intimidated, but when he had flashed you a friendly smile of recognition you were pleasantly surprised. You deduced that he must have changed since his days of tormenting those of Hawkins High with his right-hand man, Tommy H.

So, when there had been a vacancy flyer pushed through your letterbox and your Mom told you, more like ordered you, to apply you weren't worried about the fact that Steve would be a coworker. Your Mom wanted you to apply so that you would actually leave the house for something other than school, and you didn't push back because the idea of having your own savings sounded like a nice thing.

When you got the call saying that you had gotten the job, you were ecstatic. It wouldn't have been a life or death situation if Scoops Ahoy hadn't hired you, but the fear of failure powered you, so it was nice to get a win. Though when your employer said that you would be working with another Hawkins High Student as well as the guy - Steve - you saw at your interview for most of your shifts, you had another panic. You recognised Steve obviously, but he had left High School, so you didn't really have to worry too much if you embarrassed yourself at all. But a current Hawkins High student? Panic.

Your current main focus had been trying not to be noticed out in the public mall area with your little sailors' uniform, but as you neared the store itself, your focus shifted onto that student. If it was another popular type then you were sure to embarrass yourself due to your awkward nature. It was intimidating being shy in front of big personalities. So you just hoped that it was someone who was more your wavelength.

The hair tie on your wrist was being stretched and snapped as you walked into the store, your anxious habit coming out in full swing as you looked down at the floor, heading to the counter. When you looked up you realised that your hopes had been half answered. The other student that you were going to be working with was not a popular type, but it was the girl that you had been pining over from the sidelines since Middle School. Great.

When you locked eyes with Robin Buckley as you moved through to the other side of the counter, her eyes widened, and you struggled to figure out why. But you were promptly distracted by Steve barrelling through the staff door as he beamed at you, "Hey! You got the job!". You laughed as you twisted your hair tie at a faster speed, "That I did".

Steve walked forward and put an arm around your shoulder and turned you to face Robin, your body froze at first from the touch, but once your brain caught up you loosened up again. "You two would know each other right? Same school year?".

"Uh, y- yeah", Robin gave a tight-lipped smile before turning to face the small ice cream tubs under the glass of the counter. You frowned slightly, sure, you and Robin weren't really 'friends friends', but you had been in a couple of group projects together and had nice conversations, so this reaction had confused you. Apparently, Steve noticed the glaringly obvious tense aura radiating from the other Scooper, so he patted you on the back hard, not realising his own strength, "Hey, why don't you go wash up out back and familiarise yourself with the schedule, then we can begin training?".

"Sure", you nodded and walked over to push the door open and walk over to the noticeboard, but because the door closes slowly, you heard the hushed and rushed whisper shouting of a panicked Robin Buckley. You felt a lump form in your throat when the door shut, not expecting her to act like that towards you at all. As you began chewing on your lips and snapping the hair tie against your wrist as you tried to read the schedule.

Did she hate you? From her panicked tone, it sounded as though she had a major issue working with you, and the idea of working with someone who hated you made you feel nauseous. Though you were incredibly confused, though your interactions with her had been limited, they had been pleasant. Unless it was only pleasant for you and she just played along. "You all good back here?", Steve poked his head through the door and sent you a reassuring smile, clearly seeing you looking a little bit out of your depth.

"Yup!", you tried to sound enthusiastic, so he called you back through to the front. You adjusted your hat and followed him through, sending a small smile to Robin who gave you a small nod whilst tapping her fingers on the counter. "Robin will be training you today", Steve announced, and both of your heads snapped towards him, and you did not miss the smirk that he sent to the brunette. "Okay", Robin puffed out a breath and walked to show you how to use the till.

You got overly excited when the money part of the till popped out and a little bell noise occurred, causing you to giggle. Robin laughed alongside you, so you looked up at her and she had a genuine smile on her face. But when you made eye contact, she shrunk back into herself and took a couple of steps back as she cleared her throat. "Let's uh- move onto the actual ice creams now". You swallowed thickly and moved next to her again, giving her a bit more space this time as she went through the different types of orders and let you practice scooping a few times to make sure you had the technique.

After a few tries, you had a decent scoop, so now it was just about practising during the shift, whilst either Steve or Robin watched over you. You thought that the shift went well, other than it being completely awkward between you and your classmate, but you had fun with Steve. He included you in the jokes, helped if you were unsure about something, and you even made both of them laugh a few times.

When you got home after your shift, you honestly looked forward to the next one. It felt like you were being paid to just mess around, and occasionally scoop some ice cream. The Robin situation still worried you though. When you saw her at school on the Monday before your evening shift, she gave you a brief smile when she spotted you entering the classroom of your shared class. But that was the only interaction.

When you saw her and Steve at work that evening you got an enthusiastic hello from Steve and another hesitant greeting from Robin before Steve lightly pushed her forward. You tilted your head as you watched Steve saunter to the back room, and then faced Robin as you let out a heavy breath, "Hi".

"Hey", she smiled and shuffled awkwardly on the spot as she looked to the entrance, even though no one was there, and no one would likely be there. Monday evenings were notoriously dead for trade at the mall. "So, did you finish the work for Miss Green's class tomorrow?", you tried to start some conversation as Steve wasn't there as a buffer. "Uh yeah, I have my final draft done, just gotta y'know... read it over".

You hummed in understanding, for most classes you didn't bother reading your work over, just trusting whatever you had written in your previous sleep-deprived state. But Miss Green was a stickler for grammar. If you used one semi-colon wrong then she would deduct 10% minimum from the final assignment grade, so everyone rushed to meticulously scan their work about a hundred times before submission.

"What about you?", she asked after a moment of silence, and your eyes visibly sparkled at her interacting back, which Robin noticed and smiled at. Though she felt guilty that it meant she had clearly pushed you away, even though it was technically her goal. She didn't really want to be pushing you away, but you were not the only one who had been pining. She had done a good job over the years of pushing her feelings to the side and avoiding you so that you didn't discover her secret. But now you were working with her at least four times a week, so she decided to try and keep you at arm's length, even with Steve figuring her out within seconds and pushing her to make a move. But at seeing you look so happy when she said three words, she decided to just do the pushing feelings to the side part, and not pushing you to the side.

"I have a couple of paragraphs left to go becauuuuuse I decided sleeping would be more productive", you winced, and she shook her head in faux-disapproval. "You're not gonna have time to read over it until your eyes drop out", she teased and scooped some strawberry and white chocolate ice cream into a tub and grabbed two little plastic spoons. "Yeah", you rubbed the back of your neck as you thought over your mistake, "Oh well, living life on the edge. Just don't judge me when I walk into class tomorrow looking like a zombie".

"No promises", she smirked slightly and handed you a spoon, placing the ice cream tub in between you on the counter.

---

Over the next few weeks, things with Robin had continued to get more and more comfortable, though there was still some tension during the day, and you didn't know the exact reason why. You had noticed that more often than not if you laughed at a joke that Steve made, her face would harden. So ultimately, you had come to the conclusion that she liked Steve, so you made sure to back off from him, which sucked as you considered him a good friend now. But, even though it was against your best interests from all angles, you did it because you thought it would keep Robin happy.

Though apparently, it made things a whole lot tenser.

It was noticed by both Robin and Steve that you seemed more withdrawn than normal, and they were worried that perhaps there was something going wrong at home or school, but they couldn't determine what, especially because there wasn't too many outside of work interactions other than saying hi to Robin in class and if you pass each other in the halls. Though Robin couldn't recall seeing or hearing anything about you at school that was out of the ordinary, so the home life problems assumption seemed to fit the bill.

The two were worried about you, even after only knowing you properly for a few weeks. So, whilst the two were working on a day that you were not, they made a plan to try and get to the bottom of it. Robin especially wanted you to go back to normal, she was enjoying getting to know you before you put your walls up, even if she couldn't get to know you the way that she so desperately wanted to.

Seeing as if it did end up being a school problem Robin would have better knowledge than Steve on your year group, it was agreed that Robin would talk to you on your shared break, which she was terrified about. She didn't really have the strongest grasp on social cues and so didn't want to accidentally push a boundary. But they considered themselves your friends so something had to be done.

When the dreaded day arrived, everything seemed normal to you. You all did your jobs as you regularly did and had no suspicions that there was a secret intervention being planned about why your mood had been dropping. But when you went on your break, and Robin uncharacteristically followed almost immediately after, you tilted your head as you sat, propping your feet up on the flimsy table. "Hi", she started and awkwardly stood a few paces away from you as she played with her rings, which worried you as you hadn't seen Robin this nervous in a long time.

"Hi?", you continued and she took a few steps forward. "Me and Steve were just worried about you, over the last few weeks you've not seemed yourself so we just wanted to make sure that you were okay, you know because we're friends we want you to be okay". The word friends stung your chest, but you put on a fake smile and nodded, "I'm fine".

Now it was Robin's turn to be confused as she frowned because you hadn't seemed 'fine'. "A-are you sure? Because you used to be very laughy but now whenever Steve shows up you seem all nervous". Your jaw went tight at being told they had noticed, and you didn't really want to continue the conversation. "I just didn't want to push any boundaries and make you uncomfortable", you spoke in a small voice, embarrassed that you had to explain yourself and had made them worry about you.

"Why would I be uncomfortable?", she moved to sit opposite you, now invested and even more confused about what was going on in your little brain. "Well... you like Steve, right?". You were startled when Robin let out a loud laugh before going silent at seeing your face, "Wait, you're serious?".

"I mean, yeah?", you quirked an eyebrow and she just chuckled before her face dropped. "I thought that you liked Steve".

You shook your head and answered way too fast for your liking, "Oh Gods no. I don't like him". Both yours and Robin's eyes widened at how you emphasised the end of your sentence, but for different reasons. "So there is someone you like", she stated in a small voice, that you thought almost sounded sad but you had no clue why. But before you could even think about questioning her, her face shifted in a matter of seconds into one with a grin to try and be supportive.

"So, who do you like then?", she wiggled her eyebrows and you went to open your mouth to protest but you continued, "Nick seems like someone you would talk to, is it Nick? OH maybe Daniel he seems nice". You began frantically shaking your head, those are the two guys in the school that you would be least likely to go out with even if you did like guys. "No? Hm, I'm not good at this game then I suppose".

"Yeah", you chuckled whilst awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck praying to all of the higher beings out there that the conversation would come to a quick stop, but Robin was persistent. "The only person I can think of it being that would disrupt work is Steve, but you're sure you don't like him". At this point you were looking at your hands as they rested on the table, picking at your fingernails for a distraction as your breathing picked up.

At the sight of you Robin panicked, she had done exactly what she had set out not to do, crossed a boundary. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I'm just trying to see this logically so that I know how to help you because he's the only guy we work with", she tilted her head and looked at you. "Robin", you barely spoke, your voice cracking in the middle as you looked up at her and finally met her gaze.

The gears in her head could practically be heard as she took in your minimal words and posture, and a lightbulb might as well have appeared over her head. Her eyes widened in a way that made you shrink into yourself and her next words didn't help, "Oh... oh". You had to will tears not to appear in your eyes now that Robin had figured it out, thinking that she would treat you as a social outcast, so you looked at your lap and got ready to hightail it out of there. So you were surprised when she softly said "Hey", in a raspier voice than normal and shuffled her chair around the table to be next to yours.

"It's okay". You looked up with uncertainty as she continued. "It's okay". After searching her eyes for a lie, you smiled bashfully when you came up with nothing. There was a moment of comfortable silence as you tried to slow your heart rate down before she spoke again, "Do you wanna hear my secret too?".

"...Sure?", you frowned.

"I like you too". Your eyes lit up and Robin had a huge grin on her face at your reaction and you instinctively reached forward to take hold of her hand, making the grin become even wider which Robin hadn't thought was possible. As you both looked at your intertwined hands everything else in the world was blocked out, so when Steve threw the door open, making it hit the wall with a bang, you were both scared shitless.

Steve looked like he was about to give a lecture, but then spotted how the two of you were sitting, "Oh finally!", he half-yelled, "Look I'm very happy for you, but that girl who keeps asking for samples is back and I can't seem to get rid of her so I need one of you to do it".

"Ahoy Cap'n", you saluted him and stood to walk out the room, but not without flashing a smile at Robin who looked completely starstruck at the events that had played out.

"So... you got the girl?", Steve smirked and crossed his arms, making Robin scoff and roll her eyes. "Back off Harrington", she stood and shoved him away to walk out to the front again but stopped before she opened the door, "But yeah, I got the girl". 

#robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley #robin x reader #stranger things #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley fluff

[rose-edith]

Angst Loneliness Part 4:

As soon as McGee gets into work Gibbs has him call up the CCTV footage…and as soon as he sees what happens, how wobbly you look as you hobble into autopsy, how you crumble like a piece of paper, how you’re left laying there for four hours, his heart breaks. He delivers himself a hard smack to the back of his own head, how could he miss all that?

But he realises it’s not just on him. He turns to the team to ask when any of them last heard from you. He’s greeted with a wall of shrugs and blank looks, but everyone starts thinking- they’ve not really included you.

It hits Tim hardest, he knows what it’s like to be shoved to the edge of things and the loneliness that comes with it. He ends up calling you, to check on you, but there’s no reply.

“McGee get me the last known whereabouts of Y/N. Track her cell or something. Who knows where she lives?” Gibbs instructs. But his question is met with silence. They don’t know where you live, you were last to join the team, and they hadn’t really made an effort to get to know you.

He sighs. “Get me the address too. DiNozzo, wrap this case up. Ziva, go and tell Ducky to stay near the phone, I may need him.” Gibbs’s gut is telling him he’s not going to like what he finds if/when he finds you.

Gibbs is surprised to find that you live in an apartment that’s surprisingly close to the office, in fact even though he drove it, Gibbs realised he could walk it quicker. He patters up the stairs and knocks on the door, gently at first. But then he sees the blood that’s smeared on the door and he starts to pound on it. He crouches down and peers through the letterbox, he can just about make out your figure laid on the floor- right in the way of the door.

He pulls out his phone. “Duck, get here now! Bring medical supplies, and walk it- it’s so much quicker to walk.” He snaps his phone shut and pulls out his lock picking kit. It doesn’t take long to jiggle the lock open. He pushes on the door, but it doesn’t budge, you’re laid against it.

“Y/N, come on! Wake up Agent! Come on, up you get!” He shouts through the crack in the door.

You stir a tiny bit and whimper. It’s enough for him to hear.

“Y/N? Y/N! I know you’re hurting but can you move for me? Just roll over so I can get through the door without hurting you?” He’s panicked, but listening to him you wouldn’t know it. He waits until the pressure is gone from the door, then he slips in. He lands on his knees at your head, at least you’re on your back now.

There’s a huge bruise on one side of your face, evidently from the fall, you’re pale and cold, yet sweaty. He grabs your wrist and wraps it in a scarf he grabs off the coat stand that you’d knocked over as you fell.

“Wake up Y/N, tell me how long have you been here like this? Talk to me.” His voice is low, no need to shout now he’s holding your body in his arms.

But you don’t wake. You don’t stir, rolling over has taken what tiny bit of energy you have left.

“Jethro?” Ducky calls, he shuffles into the small apartment. “Oh my dear. She looks in a bad way. How long has she been like this?” Ducky gets to work straight away, cleaning and bandaging your wrist after doing some paper stitches. He takes your temperature and pulls on your eyelids to see your pupils. “We need to get her to a hospital, she needs a drip of antibiotics, and possibly a blood transfusion.”

That’s all Gibbs needs to hear, he scoops you up into his arms and gets you to the hospital, leaving Ducky in your apartment. The Doctor looks around sadly, the place is small and nearly empty, it feels lonely.

#ncis #ncis x reader #ncis headcanons #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #ncis imagine #leroy jethro gibbs #mark harmon #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs headcanons #jethro gibbs #mark harmon x reader #jethro gibbs imagine #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs headcanons #ncis reader insert #ncis gibbs #tony dinozzo #ziva david #timothy mcgee

[junipercastor]

ok im halfway through reading the color purple im like damn they really erased the lesbian relationship not once but twice lol. it was in there but in a lightly implied and then promptly erased kind of way. why did the author let this happen?? the book is so much better than the movie. half of the things that happened in the movie weren't even in the book either? umm 😭 it felt very scrubbed clean. i left the theater thinking "yeah well the way everything was tied up in a bow at the end seemed unrealistic but im glad celie got a happy ending" but now while im reading im like damn that movie was like a weird ass fairy tale. like some hack sitcom writer took over and squeezed the soul and grit and heartache out and fluffed it dry until it was a nice little bundle of 'ok life sucks but god will see you through and fix everything'. i guess it was nice on christmas but now i just feel betrayed on behalf of the main character. her personality, trauma, and identity were erased. ik it was a musical but stilllll... i won't even write my full thoughts on it because itd be hella spoilers. but trust if i had a letterboxed account... oooh the criticism would be scathing. it wasn't a horrible movie and apparently they had to fight to get even the small amount of homosexuality in (with the source material featuring a homosexual relationship at the forefront no less). but it still feels like a lie. enough of the truth shone through that it caused me to want to read the book, though. maybe it'll be the same for others. so i guess it accomplished something

[daisychainsandbowties]

specific asks meme: 11, 25, 4, 12, 21

11. anything from your childhood you’ve held onto?

actually yes so much. i have books that are 22 years old and all my old pokemon games and figurines (there’s a big spider living in that box under my bed actually 🥰🥰).

i’m so careful with everything that my 20yr old gameboy works perfect (i also have a gameboy from 1989 that my mom gave to me which still plays tetris). literally anything i’ve loved i’ve held onto including my old journals with my early cyphers and languages in them and my old drawings. i have a lock of my own hair from when i chopped it all off and i have the valentine’s card my first boyfriend tried to sneak into my schoolbag only to have me BURST into the classroom like “where were you fucker we’re playing giant lizards outside and these bitches don’t know jackshit about anatomy.” so he got his mom to drive to my house and SPRINTED to the door to shove it in the letterbox instead. the next year i did the exact same to him but i wasn’t dumb enough to risk the schoolbag approach. knowing i had 59,000 random sheets of paper and a decaying apple at the bottom of my bag. that’s a place letters go to die.

anyway! yeah, lots of things or at least small important things.

25. would you say you have good taste in music?

yeah!!! aside from the mario kart rainbow road track, but even that’s a banger. i like lots of different music though so it’s more that… i like good songs than any genre loyalty whatsoever

4. mythical creature you think/believe is real?

hmm. i don’t think there’s anything currently that springs to mind. i believe there are things on this planet left to discover, but i will say that until i was 12 i believed dragons were real like dinosaurs. just thought all the medieval knights had hunted them to extinction. sad day when my archaeologist uncle told me “buddy. no they’re made up. they’re not real.” but then he told me fucked up facts about medieval medicine so it was cool.

12. brand of haircare/bodycare/skincare that you trust 100%?

i don’t really. my grandma gets me shower things for my birthday and then i repeat subscription those unless i get an allergic reaction. so right now i have some 3-in-1 mens hair thing and i have a “100000 mint leaves in this bottle!!” shower gel that i think is trying to eat my skin. tingly.

21. answered!! but all imaginary numbers are weird and shouldn’t behave like that

#ask meme #that-edgy-ahole #i’m bad with bodycare stuff i had to be literally forced to put this stuff on my hands #when i was sick and they got dry and cracked and they bled all the time #cream plus bandages or else i’d immediately scrub at my hands to get the wet feeling off #so yeah. i only have like two i use

[sheher-gayboy]

Reviewed Anatomy of Fall on Letterboxed for the first in my 2023 Oscars Best Picture Review series! Text copied below the cut-off

In Anatomy, Justine Triet shows her documentary background, the camera moves as a quiet interloper, sometimes we see through the eyes of the films characters but more often than not we are a member on the jury deciding on the guilt of Sandra (played phenomenally by Sandra Hüller) in the death of her husband Samuel.

Nominally, this is the film, a courthouse legal drama with a lot of open-ended questions that keeps us guessing on who is at fault, but past the gears of the plot and genre we find a film interested in discussing relationships and the dynamics within them, of power and gender. Sandra is a successful author, Samuel wishes he was as well, Sandra has sex with people other than Samuel, in court she says it wasn't that big of a deal, but we know through Hüller's performance that it very much was and she knew of his resentment, Samuel takes care of their blind son, Daniel, Sandra is interviewed by students. The film gives us much to doubt about the facts of the case, and it does not give any more clarity on the relationship. The film dances around the idea of objective truth, how focusing on emotional moments or forensic evidence creates a black hole, pulling us away from any definitive answer. This is most expertly done with how it handles its victim, we have one scene of him talking (Maybe two, but the second may not have even happened) and it cuts away from the visual of the scene at the most crucial of moments, we only have this small sliver of him to judge, but it is from this we must evaluate his whole life.

With our voyeur status as the audience, the film plays like a true crime documentary with the commentary and interviews cut out and in their place is left a sinking feeling, are we the audience with our own biases and ideas on how a woman and man should be dictating on the case fairly? I left feeling the film answered it's questions definitively, and was fascinated that wasn't a common perception by other critics, even more fascinated when taking into account the gender of the critics. Every male reviewers felt it was a taut, did-she-do-it style thing and the female reviewers thought it a wonderful examination of how we police women and their choices. I'd love to be in the living room of a couple just as they finish and begin discussing this film.

I want to draw special note to this film's audio and its editing, while Sandra is our character of discussion, we as an audience most find ourselves in her son Daniel as his idea of his parents is challenged throughout the film. Daniel is blind as previously mentioned and we get a sense of how he is perceiving every scene that he is in, the bustle of a courthouse and the changes between French and English (I haven't touched on the use of language! Yet another way the film leaves you unsure if the truth is being represented). Extraordinary care was put towards making Daniels perspective known and it pays off.

As an ending, Triet received backlash from the French government when, during her Palme d'Or acceptance speech, she spoke out against Macron's ridiculous plans to increase the retirement age. It is rumored this is what led to her film not being put forward as France's pick for best foreign film at the Oscars. If this is the case, this film deserves best picture, if only to spite a country that doesn't know what its got in Triet.

4 1/2 ⭐

#film #oscars 2024 #movie review #anatomy of a fall

[alastgoodnight]

Hm. Now that was a little odd. There was a letter in front of the letterbox, like the box had spat it out. The envelope was white with a coloured triangle in each corner to frame it: red, blue, yellow, and orange. It was simply addressed to "New Friend", written in a slightly blunted red pencil. Wouldn't hurt to open it.

The handwriting on the inside was the same as on the envelope, and it appeared to only hold a folded sheet of paper.

-

"Dear Stranger,

I was talking to Eddie today and I said I didn't know who else to write a letter to. I'd written a letter to all my friends. Eddie said I should write to look for a 'pen pal'. I thought he meant that I needed a pen to be my friend, but it actually means that someone would write to me. I like phone calls, but I also like letters too.

Hello stranger. My name is Wally Darling. I live in Welcome Home. It is a small town where all my friends live. This is what I look like."

An arrow pointed to a somewhat childish drawing of a yellow person with swirly blue hair, a matching cardigan, and colourful, stripey trousers. There was a smile on the drawing's face.

"I am a painter. I love to paint or draw. There are so many things to look at. Is there anything you like to do? Do you have a job or class you go to?

Please write back. My full address is: Wally Darling, Home, The Neighborhood.

Wally."

(heythereneighbor - sorry but the concept of a letterbox was just too cute to pass)

Oh, that was odd. Naomi was quite used to the letterbox having letters in it - usually in response to her own - but this time, the little door hung wide open, the letter propped against it and politely waiting for her when she came upstairs. Her eyes widened when she saw the bright primary colors - colors she didn't recognize from other responses. This was someone new!

Handling the colorful envelope with the same care she would an official document, she read through it slowly, feeling a small smile pull at her face as she kept going. The language was simple, but charming - more importantly, someone had written to her first, something that never happened. Usually the letters she got were responses to her own, so this was a charming surprise.

The letter itself was fairly simple, so she should start with a simple response. Naomi grabbed a sheet of her own paper - the white, lined stationary with a frame of hydrangeas in purple and blue - and started to write.

"Dear Wally Darling, Hello! I'm the person who got your letter, so I guess this makes me your pen pal. It's nice to meet you! My name is Naomi Sato, but everyone calls me Miss Naomi. I'll draw a picture of myself on the back of this page, since it's full of lines. I live in the Lullaby Lane Library. It's a very old building-"

Creak!

"Okay, I'll change it, my goodness!"

"It's a building that's been left by itself for quite some time, so I'm working hard to help get it all ready for people to visit again. I live here with a couple of friends, Willa and Rags, and my friend Arlo lives on the hill behind us. Right now my job is fixing up the library. The inside's all done, but the outside needs new paint and a garden. It's a lot of work, but it's fun!"

What did she like to do? Hm, keep it simple. Explaining a podcast would take more pages.

I like to read, and clean, and tell stories. My favorite kind of stories are fairy tales, and my favorite kind of reading is when I get to share stories with other people. Do you have any stories you like, Wally? Thank you for writing to me. I'll give you my full address so you can write to me again: Miss Naomi, Lullaby Lane Library, Lullaby Lane. I hope you have a good day! Sincerely, Miss Naomi."

It was only right to match Wally's drawing with one of her own. Using a small number of colored pencils, she drew herself as best she could - still a small, simple drawing, with line features and blocky colors, but she liked how the jacket came out. Carefully the letter was folded and put in a seaglass-blue envelope, sealed shut with a sticker of an orange balloon. Into the letter box it went, no doubt to appear wherever it needed to be.

#you do NOT need to match length I am just VERY wordy #heythereneighbor

[c-pandora]

A helping hand.

06/10/39

Pushing the note through the letterbox, all my debt payed off, the weight on my shoulders clanking to the floor. Only one thing was left. Riding to my mothers house, I shoved my house keys, and another letter through the small vertical slit. I’m done.

I hopped on the uncomfortable seat of my bike, the sun shine on the horizon, the orange and pink pastel skies almost seemed like paint. Such a peaceful way to go out.

The bridge called to me. The metal clanking of chains and rubbing of wire screeched in the wind of the calming summer evening. Summer.. it was Summer, wasn’t it? I cant tell anymore, I don’t leave the house, I’m too scared they’ll follow me.

As my tie flutters in the wind, my tailcoat flapping like wings. I spread my arms, and the breeze takes me away. The winds rush through my hair..

Or so I thought.

A hand wrenches me up by the back of my jacket.

#nostalgia #japan #80s #70s #vintage cars #fake #story #book #author #artist #fakesituation

[brasideios]

My Sunshine Jimmy

So, along with My Boy Charlie, another archetypal character I write is Jimmy - though just like Charlie, he's taken on many forms, including appearing [without my say so] in my Ancient Greek OC Antidas (with some variation to fit context, of course).

These archetypes aren't gender specific by the way; in my current project, Arity is also in many ways a Jimmy; and as I shared on Sunday, they do get into a relationship together, so they're a lot sometimes.

Jimmy originally came into being in my (published, now unpublished) pair of novellas titled 'Double White Lines'.

In the first of these, Freeway, he's introduced through the eyes of Gracie [another of my archetypes who will also be in the novel I'm writing now, so more on her soon.]

So, Jimmy and Gracie from Freeway:

Original Jimmy

It was sunny outside, and quiet except for the distant hum of traffic on the freeway behind the house, where it ran west towards Langarrin. Gracie sat on the brick letterbox, kicking her heels against one side, waiting for Jimmy to come pick her up. He was her best friend – they’d known each other since early childhood. Besides her sister, Lou, he was the only person that she had any real attachment to.

She didn’t have long to wait. He pulled up in the Rex, shorthand for the WRX, a rally car that was fashionable amongst a certain type of guy. She jumped into the passenger’s seat. 

‘I’m glad you dressed for the occasion,’ he said, hazel eyes sparkling with humour. ‘Those are your best trackies, I s’pose?’

She returned the favour, looking him up and down, pointedly eyeballing his tight pink shirt and skinny jeans, and scoffed.

‘Where’s the metrosexual convention?’

He chuckled and turned his attention to pulling the Rex out into the street. 

Once they were on their way, he said, ‘Got some news - don’t go getting all heartbroken on me, though...’

‘A posting?’ He was in the Navy. Postings were a fact of life. 

He nodded. ‘Melbourne. I leave in a couple of weeks.’

‘How long?’

‘Nine months probably. It might get extended.’

She just nodded, taking a moment to adjust to the news.

She felt thrown of balance each time he went away. Somewhere, at the back of her mind, she thought he wouldn’t come back; and it was true in a certain way. The longer postings always returned some new variation of the Jimmy she’d known before.

It would’ve been easier if they’d been any good at keeping in touch – but Gracie never knew what to say, and Jimmy was always so busy – sometimes totally uncontactable for months at a time, and sometimes just taken up with whatever friends he was mixing with at the time.

It was understandable that their relationship got put on ice, she thought, all things considered; but it was still hard to be left behind and not take it to heart.

They arrived at the Henley Maccas a few minutes later and went in.

Once they had their food, they took a table near the window, looking out on the shabby carpark.

Gracie slowly drank her shake as he told her about his plans, in between scoffing down two burgers and fries. He always ate like he was ravenous.

During a lull in his monologue, she said, ‘It’s been a while since you’ve been to Melbourne, right?’

‘Yeah, a few years.’

‘Guess you’re about due to check in with your Melbourne wife, then. Visit the kids.’ It was a long running joke between them – the classic, about sailors having a family in every port.

‘What did we call the last one? Joseph?’

‘Joe. He was a pizza baby.’

He snorted. ‘That’s right. I’m really looking forward to having Papa Joe’s again. Best pizza I’ve ever eaten.’

A couple of girls walked into the fast-food joint. They caught Jimmy’s attention. 

‘Who’s that with Jude?’ he asked Gracie, gesturing with his chin.

Gracie looked over her shoulder. He was talking about a small, dark-haired girl who was probably around twenty-five, maybe Italian or something like that, dark-haired and pretty.

‘That’s Kirsten’s younger sister, Rosie.’

‘Good-lookin’.’

Gracie rolled her eyes. ‘You’d shag anything, honestly.’

‘Not anything,’ he said, with some dignity. ‘I wouldn’t touch Lou with a ten-foot pole.’

She grinned. ‘Just as well. She’d shank you if you tried.’

He laughed, but he managed to catch Jude’s eye, and the two girls came over.

‘Hey, Jimmy.’

‘Jude. What’s goin’ on?’

‘Just chillin’.’

‘Nice.’ He looked at Rosie. ‘You’re Kirsten’s sister, aren’t ya?’

Gracie smothered a smile. She found it amusing the way he broadened his accent to flirt; inexplicably, it seemed to work more often than not. It was working on Rosie, anyway; she smiled artfully, sizing him up. 

‘And you’re Jimmy. You used to date Kirsten’s bestie.’

‘Nah - I wouldn’t say date. We used to be friends, though.’

‘Friends, huh?’ she said, in a playful way.

‘What’re ya getting’ at?’ he said, leaning forward a little, echoing her tone.

‘Oh, nothing. I’ve just heard of you.’

‘And my reputation?’

She smiled, all traces of pretended shyness gone.

‘You might say that.’

Gracie saw Jimmy relax. He knew at that exact moment that she was keen. 

‘What’re ya doing tonight?’

‘Nothing much. Why?’

‘You should come down the Pipes.’

‘I might,’ Rosie said, mustering a hint of implied resistance. ‘I’ll see.’

‘Sweet,’ he said, standing up. ‘Carn, Gracie. Let’s beat it.’

She followed him out, saying bye to the two girls as she passed. They pretended not to hear her.  

Older, more mature (?) Jimmy

So in Arity, Jimmy is older, but he is still a clown. As I said above, Arity is also like him - and this is my first attempt at showing the chaos of a conversation between two idiots. I'm not sure I am happy with it, but this is where it's at right now :)

~~~

A minute later, a guy came in from outside, shutting the door behind himself. He looked at me and cheerfully said, ‘Good morning.’

I replied with a non-committal ‘Morning,’ and went on drinking my coffee.

He said humorously, ‘Not even a good morning? Hard to believe, when we live in this paradise.’ He gestured with an expansive, vaguely theatrical arm, indicating the Lodge and perhaps Langarrin as a whole.

'Living the dream,' I said, very dryly.

There was nothing else to pay attention to, so I found myself listening to him pouring cereal then milk into a bowl behind me, before making coffee. He was humming half under his breath as he did it – I couldn’t identify the song.

To my surprise, he came and sat opposite me. I looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

I was struck by his face – he had what I’ve always called a kind face, complete with dimples; though he was otherwise just an average looking guy – hazel eyed, dark-haired, tattooed, in his late twenties or early thirties. 

He said, ‘I’m Jimmy,’ and offered his hand over the table. 

‘I’m Arity.’

‘Like hilarity without the hill?’

I snorted. ‘Yes, just like that.’

‘Weird.’ He took a mouthful or cereal, then set his spoon down with a wrinkled nose. Reaching for the honey, he squeezed it all over the contents of the bowl. ‘Were your parents hippies?’

I shook my head. ‘Nah. It was the name of the street my dad grew up on.’ He looked at me quizzically, and I smiled. ‘You think you’re the first person to tell me it’s a weird name?’

He shook his head, then through a mouthful of food, he said, ‘I’m just glad you’re not a hippy, since we’re friends now.’

‘Are we?’ I said, chuckling at this approach. He was weird, and I appreciated that. ‘I’m not sure I agree. I need to know what you have against hippies first.’

‘They don’t shave their pits, of course.’ 

I hadn’t expected that answer, and I snorted.

‘What do you care about your friends’ armpits? Besides, do you shave your armpits?’

He twinkled at me – an expression that was at once mischievous and approving – of what, I wasn’t sure.

‘Maybe I do.’ He drank the last of the milk in his bowl then set it aside, before adding, ‘I do hang out at the gym. Gotta shave to really see that muscle definition.’

I looked him over pointedly. ‘What muscle?’

He looked at me as though I’d struck him a mortal blow – but the smile never left his eyes.

‘Really? Is this how you go about building friendships?’ He tutted, shaking his head, ‘Arity, Arity, Arity.’

Dryly, I said, ‘Observations of fact are worse that slandering an entire sub-culture’s grooming habits, now?’

He gave me a playfully dirty look, but didn’t answer as there was a beep from his pocket, and he took out his phone. He was quiet for a moment, tapping out a message.

I went back to staring at the french doors. I wondered suddenly why the textured glass had been put in. The room would’ve been nicer without it, looking out onto the garden.

He set the phone onto the table. ‘You know I don’t mean it, right?’

‘Don’t mean what?’

‘About the hippies.’

‘Oh,’ I said, taking another drink of my coffee before, looking at him from under my brows, I added, ‘I did, about the muscles.’

He was doing his best to suppress his laughter and said sternly, ‘You wait. That’ll change. I’ll be so built I’ll be able to pick you up and fling you across the room.’

I wide-eyed him, and said in a pitiful voice, ‘But why would you fling your brand-new friend around?’

He scoffed. ‘Why else does a man get strong?’

‘To fling his enemies?’

‘I have no enemies to fling.’

Dryly, I said, ‘You’ll have no friends, either, if you start treating them like that.’

The laughter at last bubbled up out of him, and he stood abruptly.

'Dammit, you’re too quick.’

I smiled. ‘Checkmate.’

He scowled at me without any seriousness at all; but there was the sound of voices from reception. One of them was Kristy’s.

Great.

‘That’s my cue to leave,’ he said, knocking the table twice with his knuckles. ‘Until tomorrow morning, Hilarity.’

~~~

So - that's an intro to Jimmy and Arity, I guess. Jimmy does have more depth than either of these descriptions really show. He's been through it, but he's one of those people who uses humour to deal with everything.

Hmm... Since it isn't published anymore, I can post the whole Freeway chapter about Gracie and Jimmy (which is functionally a short story, more or less) if anyone is interested in knowing more? It's the only part of the novella that I think is worth reading, to be honest, hence the unpublishing - even though it's far from perfect.

Anyway - I have no idea if this is insightful to anyone else, but it's super fun tracing this stuff from my end 😀 revisiting old work, dragging these fools from retirement to hang out here for all to see... Not that Jimmy minds - he's down for anything honestly 😂

#current wip #arity #contemporary fiction #lit fic #original fic #oc arity #oc jimmy #OC archetypes #writeblr #jpdoingwords

[pentopaper23]

The Boy at The Door - Chapter Four: Packing Crates

Divorced wasn’t ever something that Claire saw herself being. A divorced mother of two also hadn’t been on the cards. She has been prepared to live a loveless life for Brianna, prepared to keep her word to Jamie, but that all changed when Fergus arrived. His arrival has been the final straw for her, and Frank’s marriage and she found herself not even caring.

Claire has blacked out as the police were taking Frank away, her mind going completely blank until she awoke to Joe standing over her wiping the blood from her neck. Franticly she looked around for Fergus and Brianna only to find that they weren’t there. Reading the panic on her face Joe informed her that David had taken back to his house and that Gail would look after them until everything had been taken care of.  

The trip to the police station had been quiet and Claire tried to fix her hair but gave up when her curls wouldn’t go back into the pins she had put in that morning. Her lip was starting to swell and the bruises on her cheeks were starting to show, she sighed slamming the mirror in the car sun visor shut.

“I shouldn’t have antagonised him.” She said quietly, causing Joe to slam on the brakes at a stop sign.

“No.” He said turning to her, “You listen to me Claire, you did nothing wrong. He made the choices he made, and he deserved everything coming to him.”

Tears welled in Claires eyes as she nodded, Joe reached up to wipe them away before continuing to the police station.

With still stinging cheeks and dried blood on her face she had given her statement to the police, outlining the events that lead to her sitting in the police station at 11pm at night. She settled on not pressing charges against Frank under the proviso that he granted her a divorce and agreed to release the funds left to her by her Uncle Lamb and her parents. She promised to never contact him again and never ask for anything from him as long as he gave her time to pack and organise her and the children’s passage to Scotland.

As expected, Frank had been unhappy about her demands, but his lawyer has advised that it was better then jail time for spouse battery and he has signed on the dotted line faster than Claire has ever seen him sign anything. He agreed to stay in a hotel to give her time to pack and only asked that he was allowed to say goodbye to Brianna. Claire had allowed it, but she wouldn’t say she wasn’t happy when Brianna didn’t want to come out from behind her skirts to say goodbye to a crouched down Frank.

For all his faults and there were many, Frank had been a good father to Brianna. But Brianna had never warmed to him, less so after their fight. She was a quite child, happy to sit and watch the world around her, always looking and taking in everything. She had been a pleasant baby too, sleeping through the night almost immediately. Claire had felt herself blessed and cursed at the same time for Brianna looked like neither her nor Frank. Her hair for a start was bright red and tight curls, her eye was slightly cat like, and the brightest clearest blue Claire has ever seen. She was Jamie’s child and there was absolutely no way to hide it.  

With a huff Frank had left the house with small suitcase, his final words to her were to leave the keys in the letterbox, and then he was gone.

The weeks following Frank’s departure the newly formed family of three has fallen into a simple routine of packing up the small number of items that Claire and Brianna wished to keep. Clothes were packed into suitcases and books and other nick-nacks were wrapped in paper and placed into moving crates. Fergus’ job had been to record the crates and label them with the shipping stickers that Claire had had delivered. He had also been helping Claire manage Brianna by keeping her distracted as Claire made plans for their move. Claire would normally find them huddled together, Brianna sitting on Fergus’s lap as he read to her from one of her picture books or she would find them napping on the lounge.

She has also dragged Fergus to the department store in order to purchase him some more clothes, leaving Brianna with Joe and Gail. A multitude of clothes had filled the cart as they checked out, several pairs of pants, some shirts, packs of underwear and socks and two new jackets. The shoes he came with still had some wear in them and Claire decided that she would replace them in Scotland once they were settled. While they had been in town Claire has also taken the time to post her letter of resignation to the hospital and had stopped back at Joe’s to pick up Brianna. Over lunch she has explained the situation to Joe and Gail and had tearfully promised to contact him once they were in Scotland and left with a sad wave.

Brianna hadn’t understood at first that Frank wasn’t coming back, Claire had tried to explain to her that they would be moving but there was only so much that a five-year-old could understand. Fergus had also tried in his own way to explain things, he had sat with her and spun a globe around tracing the path that they would take to Scotland. But Claire wasn’t sure if that had worked either or if Brianna just like watching the globe spin. They both tried to include her in as much packing as they could; Fergus helped her pack up her toys, wrapping them and placing them into a packing crate, her stuffed rabbit was thankfully saved from this and remained in her cot.  

Fergus had also asked if he could write to Mrs Graham and had been suspicious when Claire had introduced him to the telephone.

“You mean I can speak to her?” Fergus had asked as he held the phone receive away from his face as if was about to bite him.

Claire had laughed and pushed the phone towards his ear when she heard the connection tone. What followed was a loud conversation as Fergus yelled into the phone about his travels on a plane and what he and Brianna had been doing, it ended with Mrs Graham asking to speak to Claire.  

“Hello?” Claire has said brushing Fergus on the head has he walked away to play with Brianna.

“Hello dear, its nice to hear from the lad”

“Yes, he has settled in rather well, him and Brianna are getting along great” Claire said watching as Brianna was dragging Fergus by the hand to sit in front out the TV.

“He speaks very fondly of his time with you, I don’t know how I will every repay you for finding him”.

Mrs Graham made a very distinct Scottish noise and brush off her thanks, “Well I couldn’t leave the poor lad there, such a state he was in”.

They hadn’t yet spoken about the events that led him to travelling to her time and she knew that they would need to speak sooner rather than later. Mrs Graham had given her some idea of what had happened when she found him and of the weeks that Fergus stayed with her before she put him on a plane bound for Boston. When ever Claire started to broach the subject Fergus would clam up and changed the subject. The only thing he said was that he didn’t have a choice and Claire hadn’t pushed the issue. He was with her, and he was safe, that’s all Claire cared about.

He was different to what she remembered; he was older yes, but he seemed older than he looked, and she wondered what he had endured in a post rebellion Scotland. She hated to linger on the though too long, but she saw it in his eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking. The slow movement of his mouth and the small sign of the cross he made as he was getting ready for bed. The far off look he got when he watched Brianna sleep and the side of her mouth slightly moved into smile. He was sad and she found herself unable to help, there wasn’t a remedy for what he allied him and as much as Claire and Brianna were becoming his world, they couldn’t fill the holes of his missing family, Jenny, Ian and their children. Claire had known loneliness and, in some way, she understood what he was going through but she was powerless to help.

It was a sunny afternoon when Claire had finally packed the last crate and she found herself leaning against the back door sipping a coffee as she watched her children play in the now empty backyard. All the outdoor furniture has been either sold or packed up ready to the shipped to Scotland. Fergus and Brianna were sitting knee to knee on the ground trading leaves back and forward as if they were playing a card game. Claire strongly believed that Fergus was trying to teach Brianna some of gambling game, but she hadn’t yet been able to work out the rules. She laughed when Brianna let out a squeal of excitement and launched herself into Fergus’s lap, the young boy rolled onto his back.

“Well done! You won!” Fergus cried lifting her above his head in celebration, her arms and legs flying in all different directions.

“I won Mama! I won!” Brianna cried out when she noticed Claire watching them.

“I see that darling.”

Claire had been surprised at how well Brianna has taken to Fergus, the pair were now nearly inseparable. The night that Frank was taken away Claire has bundled them both up and they had all slept in Brianna’s single bed. When morning came, Claire had awoken to find Fergus whispering in French to a sleeping Brianna, looking down at her in such doting way that it made Claire’s eyes sting. She found herself finding more and more of Jamie in Fergus’s mannerisms. The tight way he held his shoulders when they were in large crowds, the clammy way he held her hand as he led them through said crowds; Brianna always firmly held on his hip. The way he tapped his left middle finger when he was thinking or reading and the small huff he would let out while he was trying to learn new things like how to turn on the stove or toaster.

He had also sadly inherited Jamie’s tendency for nightmares, many an hour Claire had spent rocking him back to sleep after he had woken in the middle of the night. Sometimes he didn’t know where he was and other times he would awaken to start franticly speaking in French grasping at his hand as if he was shocked it was still there. She hadn’t been able to get him to open up about them and all she could do was comfort him until he fell back asleep.

What he thankful hadn’t gotten from Jamie was motion sickness. The plane ride back to Scotland has been uneventful and they had landed to a misty Inverness evening. They were greeted by Mrs Graham and a very excited Rogar in the arrival area. The small boy was bouncing up and down on his toes trying to see over the heads of the other passengers.

“There they are!” He yelled once he saw them come through the arrivals with their bags in tow.

“Oh my dears!” Mrs Graham said as she pulled Fergus and Brianna into a deep hugs. Fergus smiled at the woman and introduced her to his sister proudly.

Mrs Graham then turned to Claire, taking in her drawn face and tired expression she embraced her in a warm hug.

“Welcome home Claire.”

#pentopaper23 #outlander #outlander fanfiction #fan fiction #outlander fandom #claire fraser #fergus fraser #fanficion #jamie fraser #cross posted on ao3 #brianna fraser #frank randall

[duderosiers]

@simplyxsaylor​

what does jean-claude do when he has messed up? when there is something he can’t fix with a smile and a charming word? when he inevitably changes someone’s life, often for the worse, rarely for the better? he runs, the coward in him taking over. what’d happened? he tried to play dumb but he knew. j.c hadn’t eaten in a while, and some poor single dad had become the meal to an old and foolish vampire.

red had dried onto the scruff of his chin hair, dripped down to his chest, its guilty stain spread across the silks of his shirt and down the corners of his nails. it was time to run away, the true coward surfacing as fear gripped him. had someone found him? or would he simply bleed out on the floor, till somebody found him on their morning jog or cycle to work. how many lives did jean-claude need to ruin? it was something he thought often. in the end, everything would become tainted by his personal brand of poison.

once upon a time, elora’s would’ve been the go-to place, her calm words and gentle touch stroking back his long hair, telling him it was okay. they would work through it, there was a solution to this. she would shower with him, working the blood out of his face and smiling at him with an understanding few could match. but - now she lay in a hospital bed, looking too small. it was easy to forget her age, yet now she looked all of her 23 years.

sofia would probably be working, or at roman’s, or somewhere else. he felt lately as if he had burdened her too much with his problems. minho would panic, he was sure, and matty was just a quick suck and fuck. it left only a single person he could think who would help.

the door was familiar, one he had been to many times before, a hand reaching to knock on heavily. 

“saylor?” j.c called, hoping she was in. he needed her to be this fucking apartment. “saylor open - saylor open the fucking door right now please!” he asked, opening up her letterbox to yell inside.