#I'm just gonna hand sew from now on like I did with the fingers

[aloeverawyvren]

breaking news: making gloves without a pattern is hard actually

[bi-writes]

bestfriend!roommate!simon leaves on an assignment, but he needs your help first. (18+)

more bff!roommate!simon (part 9/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, simon has thicc thighs, lap sitting, fem+m!receiving touching, thigh riding because i cant resist, soft!dom!simon, praise kink, size kink (reader described to be moved/handled easily by him), the mask doesn't come off, simon is a cocky bastard, a lotta angst

"simon, if you keep moving, i won't be able to finish, quit squirming."

"sorry, luv--afraid you'll prick me with that bloody thing."

you stuck your tongue out at him for a moment before setting back against his thighs. you sat so nicely there, your ass perched on the thick muscle as you worked. you had your tongue between your teeth as you concentrated.

your fingers held a thick needle, weaving it through the fabric of simon's balaclava and the plastic skull plate. he had ruined another piece; he had come home after his last deployment with the skull plate in pieces. he did not explain what had happened to it; you only tried to ignore the streaks of red along the face of it when you watched him throw it away.

you saw him sitting on the couch, trying to sew it together, but his big fingers made it a little difficult; you sweetly asked if you could help. a big plus--you got to sit in simon's lap and bask in the heat of him.

you adjusted, moving around until you were straddling his wide hips. you had to spread your own to accommodate his size, sitting up high to be able to reach the top of his head, weaving the thread through to tie the plastic to the fabric.

"bloody tits are in m'face, luv."

"yeah? never heard a man complain about that before," you laughed lowly. he grunted in response, a gloved hand wrapping around your waist to hold you steady. "what? you don't like 'em?"

he clicked his tongue, shaking his head, and you laughed again, continuing to sew the plastic to the fabric.

"you're gonna look so scary," you smiled wide. "you like looking scary on the field?"

"keeps the little ones at bay."

"everyone's little to you, simon."

"aye."

you snorted, settling in his lap as you were almost finished sewing the mask. you tied off the thick thread when you were finished, using some scissors to cut the excess fabric. you met his eyes as you sat there, and you smiled at him; maybe he did look intimidating, but all you could think about was how those pretty eyes sparkled last night when he came into your hand and how much you were going to miss that look when he was gone.

"the paint, simon?"

he held up a small jar in one hand, and you took a brush from the coffee table and began to draw lines down the face of the mask. you passed over his dark eyes, winking at him playfully before doing the same line on the other half of the mask. you put the brush down, dipping the tip of your manicured finger in it and then starting to draw the lines down where the mouth of his face would be.

you could feel his warm breath against your finger, and you cupped his cheek with your other hand, holding him firm as you drew along the mask.

"i'm going to miss you, simon," you whispered, swallowing hard. you avoided his eyes, focusing on drawing along the cloth. you let out a shaky breath. "i-i mean...i always miss you, but now you're gonna be gone and...whenever you go, you go for a long time, and--"

simon squeezed your waist gently, quieting you. your bottom lip trembled a little, and you looked down, away from him.

"i-i'm sorry. i don't mean to get upset. it's stupid."

stupid. there was nothing stupid about being vulnerable. nothing stupid about baring yourself, being naked to someone in more ways than just the physical. the sex was easy together; it was everything else that simon fought with. feeling. being. loving. the mundane of that love, like coming home.

and coming home was not easy.

"'s not stupid, luv. i know i leave y'here. i know," he shook his head. "i don't do it on purpose, y'know that."

you nodded, "yes, yeah...i know. it's your job. and you're good at your job, and you made a commitment to your team, and they rely on you like you rely on them--i-i know the reasons." you smiled sadly. "i know. i just miss you...that's all."

there was an itch in the back of your head, a hoarseness lodged in your throat--sometimes you wanted to just keep talking, because forbid this be the last time i say it to you.

he hummed lowly, sliding his hands down low and cupping both sides of your ass, bringing you close. you wipe your hands off of the paint, sighing deeply, relaxing as simon leaned back against the couch and held you near. your hands circled around his neck, hugging him back as you breathed in each other--your scent, the sounds of your breath, the feel of each other's warmth.

you cleared your throat, smoothing your hands down simon's cheeks.

"let me get you geared up, yeah?"

you didn't wait for simon to answer. you picked yourself up off his lap, going to where he had his things laid out. you picked up his tactical vest, holsters, his skull-painted gloves, and you brought them back to the couch. simon sat up as you draped the vest over his head, fitting it over his shoulders. you untucked the hood of his jacket from under the vest, making sure it sat right before fastening the straps and making sure it was secure. you tugged on the straps just to make sure, your eyes skimming over the British flag on his chest and the prominent letters spelling SAS.

you busied yourself with switching out his gloves now, replacing the plain black ones with the painted-skull bone gloves. you didn't react to the calloused fingertips or the jagged scars along his hands. simon was so beautiful--every part of him was.

"i'm really proud of you, simon," you said softly. he hummed lowly but said nothing. you kissed his cheek gently, trying to meet his eyes and smile at him. "have i ever told you that?" simon shook his head, his eyes raising to stare intensely right into yours. you bit your lip. "well, i am. proud. you've come so far. they would be proud, too."

you didn't have to specify who they were. simon didn't flinch, but his eyes flickered.

you reached for one of the thigh holsters, sitting back and motioning for him to stand. when he did, you tried not to think about how much simon towered over you like this. he was taller than you, so much broader, taking up so much of your space. you reached up and started to fasten the holsters around his thigh, your fingers skimming the taut muscle there as you buckle it around him. you didn't comment on the fact that you nearly had to loosen the strap all the way just to fit around the thick of him.

you reached for the other holster, fastening it around his other thigh and looking up at him after you had finished. fuck, he looked good like this. he looked so much bigger--the width of him was greater, with you seated, you had to bend your neck back far, and having his back to the window cast low shadows over his face, darkening his gaze and giving him an eerie backlight. but you would never be afraid of simon--even all dressed up.

your lips part gently when his gloved hand cups just under your chin. you mewled lowly, looking up at him with those big eyes and a soft voice. simon knelt down suddenly, widening his thighs to cage you in on the couch and keeping a gentle hold of your chin.

"'m gonna be back before you know it, luv. sittin' right there--" he tilted his head to the spot to your left, "--y'know that, right?"

you broke out into a soft smile, bouncing a little as you nodded your head. simon clenched his jaw under the mask--fuck, you were so cute, so fucking sweet. there was nothing more comforting than knowing you were waiting for him when he came back--that you would be sitting here just like this, with this little smile on your face, your eyes so wide and pretty.

"i know," you whispered. you leaned over, smoothing your hands over the front of his vest before absentmindedly playing with the straps of it. "i know, simon. still going to miss you."

you don't meet his eyes. it was hard; simon was an important part of your life. any time you lived in his absence, it was lonely. now that you lived together, it felt that much lonelier--there was a room cold and unoccupied, an empty seat at the table, a spot on the couch without him in it. his voice soothed no nightmares and his warmth took away none of your shivering. you never told him that when you called; you only spoke of the meal you had cooked that you told him he would like and the annoying step at the entrance that the landlord still hadn't come to mend.

"c'mere."

simon smoothed his gloved hand down your chin, wrapping his fingers delicately around your throat. with a firm grip, he guided you into his lap as he sat back against the couch again, your body easily settling between his thighs again. your face relaxed, cheek smushed against his shoulder as you pressed your lips to the fabric over his neck. you sighed deeply, legs resting on either side of one of his thighs.

your head tilted back, your eyes peeking up to look at him. he moved his own head to the side, and beneath the skull, you could see those pretty dark eyes--beautiful, undeniable need in them. simon was terrible at hiding what he felt behind his eyes--they were warm, and his pupils were dilated, and you wondered if he saw the same pretty things in you that you saw in him.

your eyes fluttered when you felt one hand slide down the length of your spine. a warm, gentle hand, smoothing along the back of your shirt before cupping one side of your ass. you whined, a soft little sound escaping as you jumped slightly. your legs squeezed around his thigh, and you let out a gasp at the gentle grind. you reached up and cupped one side of his face at the first trace of pleasure, your lips pressing to the other side of it as he encouraged you to do it again.

you did. following his guiding hand, you dragged your hips up again, a strangled moan leaving you as you grind against his thigh. but it wasn't enough--as you moved, you whimpered against simon's face, letting out hot breaths of frustration. your jeans were too much of a barrier, not allowing for enough stimulation, and you felt pathetic when you heard simon's low chuckle.

"awww, sweetheart...look at ya..." he reached up with one paw of a hand and tangled a gloved hand into your hair, tugging on it firmly. he grunted as he watched your mouth fall open, slack jawed, drooling a little as you squeezed your thighs around his own. "look at tha'face. fuckin' beautiful, innit? that face you make when you want your cunny all nice and wet...when you want it pet..."

you cried out at that, nuzzling your face into his mask, kissing at the fabric and licking over the strong line of his jaw and hoping to god that he would have mercy on his pretty little roommate. that he would have mercy on her pretty face, on his name tumbling out of her mouth, on the way she grinded on his thigh like a lovesick bunny in heat.

"sound pathetic, luv..." he gripped the back of your neck, holding you at a distance now. he gripped the front of your jeans roughly, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. "now be a good puppy and take 'em off."

you shimmied out of your jeans, slipping them down your legs and kicking out of them. you were about to slip your panties off, pretty pink lace that hugged your ass so cute, but simon stopped you, forcing you back down to straddle his thigh.

"i like these," he murmured. "want them on."

you smiled, putting both hands on his vest. you gripped it tight, as tight as you could handle kevlar and bulletproof material, and then you nuzzled your face into mouth of his mask and began to ride his thigh. you were shaking. the straps of his holster were catching on your clit, and your hands were growing clammy as you tried to hold onto him for stability. you wanted to be good. you wanted to show simon how good you could be, how if he just unzipped his cargo pants and dropped them low enough, you could ride his cock so good, he'd see the fucking stars.

you hitched yourself higher on his leg, your thighs squeezing around the meat of his thigh, and he grunted lowly when your knee met his crotch. as you bounced, you rubbed up against him, and you squeaked when his gloved hand gripped your hair roughly, forcing your lips against the front of his mask. your mouth dropped open into a silent scream, a choked moan leaving you, and you kept going. you needed to show him, he needed to know--he needed to know that you wanted him, that you wanted this.

you let one hand drop, fall from his vest, and he growled out a string of angry curses when that soft hand gripped his cock through his pants. it was rough, a little aggressive, and you met his eyes easily.

"i want it--i-i want it--!" you cried. "i w-want more--"

he chuckled, and you felt tears prickling the edges of your big eyes as he laughed. your heart ached because you knew he was laughing at you. you sounded broken. you sounded lost. you sounded pathetic, but you couldn't care, you just couldn't bring yourself to. you needed more with simon.

you were tired of the in-between. you were sick of what if, when, the maybes that surrounded the unspoken thing between you. every grind of your hips, every drop of your slick that dampened his pants, all of it was just something in you screaming what are we?

he called your name, and you wanted to care about what he thought, but you needed him to know. you slipped your arms around his neck, moving until you straddled his hips, pressing your cunt right over the hardness stuck in his zipper and continuing your desperate pace.

you were going to make him understand this feeling inside. the gnawing in your chest--the thing that wanted to be outside so bad, it would claw its way out, it would force its fingers through your throat until simon could see that this wasn't a mistake.

this wasn't forgotten moments that lingered after dark. this wasn't the inevitable of a man and a woman who lived together. this was the catalyst of a bond too strong. two things, unable to be taken apart, to be reduced to separate things. there was not a simon riley without you, and there was no you without simon riley, and if he couldn't understand that, you didn't think you would survive the homecoming.

so you were going to fuck simon riley until he understood the knot was tight, and it would never unravel.

"kitty, wait--"

but he couldn't stop you. you swallowed his words, moaning desperately against the mask, your hips chasing the warm buzz that was creeping up your chest and down your thighs, your toes clenching as you notched the tip of his cock right up against your clit and fucked yourself harder against the smooth fabric of his pants.

"kitty--fuckin' christ--"

you sobbed, squeezing the back of his neck as you soaked his pants. your hips stuttered, small little circles that you made as you tried to ride out the trickle of warmth that was covering you like a comforting, pleasurable wave. your body relaxed, and you sucked on his jaw through the mask, tasting the musk and cigarette smoke that lingered there.

"simon--p-please--"

he grunted, pressing on the back of your head to tuck your face into his neck. you sniffled, moody and emotional from coming so hard, and you shook your head.

"y'r not ready for it. not time yet."

"i am," you sounded like such a baby. a cock-drunk pretty little roommate that needed something so desperately, she was so scared of what she might do to have it. to have him. "i am, please--"

"luv--"

"it's not fair," you gasped, pulling back from him. you stared up at him, and he hummed lowly, reaching up to wipe the tears that gathered under your eyes. "it's not fair, why--why can't i--?"

he tsked, clicking his tongue as he got to his feet, and your eyes lowered as he cursed under his breath, adjusting his pants, and you felt a sliver of victory as you realize that you made simon cum in his pants like a teenager.

"i w-won't wait forever."

the air in the room changed immediately. it came out of your mouth faster than you could stop it, and you tensed against the couch as his head turned, snapping to look at you.

"wot? wot did y'just say?"

"nothing."

"look at me."

you grit your teeth as he leaned down and knocked you under the chin, forcing your head to tilt back.

"wot did you just say?"

"nothing," you repeated, firmer this time. his eyes narrowed, two black, dull eyes staring down at you. his gaze was intense, and it was meant to scare you, but simon could never scare you. deep down, you knew he would never hurt you, at least not physically.

emotionally, simon had your heart in his hands, and those hands were not made to nurture. they were made to make pretty roommates cum and to pull dirty triggers. but nowhere in that did it say they were made to love you. nowhere did it specify he would keep it safe. you had given it up, before you had even realized, and he was playing you like his favorite instrument.

but simon didn't know how to play music. and there was a part of you that knew nothing about this was in tune.

when he goes, he doesn't say goodbye. and when you cried, it echoed in an empty room.

you would not wait forever. i will not wait forever.

he will not wait forever.

[corn-fanfiction]

Mark Hoffman fluff?

Ask and ye shall receive, dear Anon.

Rating: M

Tags: language, drugs n alcohol, Eric Matthews being himself, fluff (I tried anyway), some descriptions of facial wounds

Not an Asshole (Mark Hoffman x GN!Reader)

-·=»◆‡«=·-♡·=»◆‡«=·-

"Ah!"

You suck air through your teeth and cradle an ice pack against one side of your head while thick yet curiously nimble fingers work at the laceration on the other side. Mark has removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Things would be different if your vision wasn't still skewed from the tussle. For one, you'd be fixing your wound yourself. Also... you'd be able to better glimpse at Mark's face while he focuses on his work. His brow furrows differently than normal when he focuses, like the usual scowl is a front and this is him in his element.

"Am I gonna have to report this?" he grumbles, setting aside a bloodied alcohol wipe and readying a suture.

"I'm probably the last person you wanna ask."

"Why?"

He's mumbling, clearly looking to fill the silent space. You indulge him.

"Because you know what I'm gonna say."

"That I shouldn't report it?"

"Yep."

"You broke a pretty strict code of conduct," he murmurs so quietly it almost registers as a hum.

You had, in fact, broken quite a few codes of conduct, and in public no less. There's a reason you're in your apartment and not the hospital.

"He had it coming."

Mark 'tsked'. "Still."

You smirk. He agrees with you.

"Get that smile off your face. He's gonna run straight to the chief and tell. I give you a day, if that. Hold still; this is gonna hurt."

You clench your teeth and grip your whiskey glass so hard you're afraid it might shatter in your hand, and then Mark will have even more to clean up. He begins your sitches and you take a shaky sip.

"Still," he scolds you like you're a disobedient animal. You roll your eyes.

"Just take me out back and shoot me."

"You're so dramatic. They're stitches."

"Yeah, and they fucking hurt."

"Well, you fucking earned em, didn't you, Ace?"

Ace. Your nickname, or rather, his nickname for you. Because no one else called you Ace. It started out mean, critical. You were, after all, a rookie, and he your mentor. He was allowed to say basically whatever he wanted to you, and in the beginning, he did. He said things that had you crying in your car as soon as you were out of sight. Any stress, he took out on you. Even the shit that probably wasn't even related to work- it ended up on your shoulders.

It was like that for a while. Then, something changed.

To put it simply, you had saved his life. He was caught unawares, him, and you managed to talk the perpetrator down. More than that, you'd been stupid, deliberately putting yourself in harm's way just to save Hoffman from a beating or maybe a bullet.

So you're Ace. Hotshot, hotheaded. Everything Mark was before you entered the picture. Now, he finds himself taking on some kind of new role to balance you out, though he's not exactly sure what it is or how much he likes it.

"Not my proudest moment, admittedly," you say with a pained groan as Mark pulls the sitches through.

"I'd really hope a bar fight with Eric Matthews was not your proudest moment, no."

"It wasn't a bar fight."

"Ace-"

"It was outside the bar and he threw the first punch."

"He missed."

"Yeah, the first swing."

"I don't feel like arguing about this- hold still unless you wanna lose an eye."

Begrudgingly, you seal your mouth as he manages the last stitch. He pulls a particularly sensitive piece of skin, or maybe sends the needle a little too deep because you hiss and shoot a hand out to clutch his leg.

"Sorry," he mutters. You can't see him, but you feel his eyes hot on your hand and you pull it away, trying and failing to mumble an apology of your own. Even though he's literally sewing your skin closed, the hand to thigh contact is somehow the most intimate thing that's ever happened.

And you have to admit: you maybe had the occasional fantasy about Mark. It couldn't be helped. He's a man in a position of power and you have enough childhood whatever that it has a certain draw. But in any of those fantasies, it's you playing doctor to him. He's the more notorious hothead, after all.

"You're probably mad I'm stealing your title," you half joke. He snips the suture and dabs at it lightly with a fresh alcohol wipe.

"Oh yeah? You think you're gonna make head detective?"

The first part of your response is a gut reaction. "God no. I meant as the biggest asshole in the precinct."

His hands slow, and for a moment, though you're still coming down from your near blackout-level of drunkenness, you're scared you offended him.

"You're not an asshole, Ace. Well, maybe sometimes. But your heart's in the right place."

You're never one for serious or genuine conversations. You always want to leave a conversation with a joke or snarky remark. But here, now...

"And yours isn't?"

After a moment, he sighs and turns himself away. You're sitting on your kitchen counter and he's on a barstool. Even with these levels, he's as tall as you. You kick your legs as he stands.

"This isn't about me."

You hop down from the counter. "I think it is about you as much as it is about me."

He shoots you a grim look. "How do you figure that?"

"Come on. Matthews is pissed that you're good at your job, and by extension, I'm occasionally good at my job."

"That's vanity," he quips.

"But am I wrong?"

He struggles for a moment, caught between lying versus telling you that you're right. He says neither.

"Not the point."

He removes his gloves and tosses them in the trash, along with the wipes and leftover sutures. There's a moment of silence, of him watching you as you retrieve the whiskey and refilling your glass.

"Want one?" You ask.

"Sure."

You get another glass and pour. Like it's a strange instinct, you touch glasses before drinking.

"To being the two biggest assholes in the precinct," he says. You half expect the phrase to be some sort of sad, but he says it with a small smile, as if to say 'yes, we are, and that's just the way it'll have to be.'

You don't mind the idea.

You down your whiskey and pour another glass.

"Slow down there, Ace. How many painkillers have you taken?"

Honestly? You don't remember.

"...some. I'm fine."

To prove just how fine you are, you push yourself from the counter and immediately stumble.

"Alright," Mark sighs and sets his glass on the counter. "Where you trying to go?"

"Couch," you point. It would seem that yes, most of the substances you've ingested in the past two hours are combining at once.

Mark comes and hovers a guiding hand at your lower back to move you to the couch. You make it, plopping down and grabbing the remote.

"Whaddya wanna watch?" You ask, not quite slurring your words but definitely not enunciating them.

"I really oughta get home, let you rest."

"Noooo!" You groan. "At least not right now. What if I have a concussion? I can't sleep, right?"

Panic starts to creep in. You have been a little irresponsible tonight.

"And the drinking, and the meds- holy shit..."

You get woozy, start to fall on your bad side and Mark catches you and sits you up.

"Okay, where's the bathroom?"

You wave your hand to the hallways behind you and he leaves. Distantly, through your haze you hear Judge Judy on the tv. Mark returns with a cold wash cloth and the small trashcan from the bathroom.

"Here," he hands you the cloth and you set it on the back of your neck. Mark sets the bin by your feet. He straightens up and gets a good look at the state of you.

"Well, now I'm worried about you passing out."

And now you feel guilty about keeping him here.

"You're fine," you mumble. "Don't wanna keep you here."

Mark sighs, looks around the room, then looses his collar, undoes the first two buttons of his shirt.

"Scoot," he instructs, and you move yourself to one side of the couch. Mark kicks off his shoes and sits beside you.

"I'm staying until we're certain you won't overdose in the middle of the night. Deal?"

You would verbally respond but you're getting sleepy. You nod.

"Hey, wake up. Can't sleep yet."

"Whynot."

"Concussion."

You turn so your body is facing inwards, towards Mark. You toss the remote onto his lap.

"Pick something."

"This is fine."

"No, you hate reality TV."

"How do you know?"

"You told me once," you mumble with your eyes closed. You roll your head back and forth to keep awake.

"Oh," he says. "Well, I don't mind this one."

You crack an eye open. "You like Judy?"

He doesn't respond, just purses his lips.

You're not in your right mind. That's what you tell yourself every day since this night because it's the most dignified way you can justify your next move.

You've pulled your socked feet up on the couch and start nudging Mark's leg with your toes. His head swivels towards you.

"What?"

You clear your throat and squeeze your eyes shut to let a stab of pain pass.

"Lap."

When he realizes what you want, Mark sighs and moves his arm so you can swing your feet onto his thigh, snuggling even closer. He tenses, but doesn't move.

"You're not an asshole," you mumble. Your forehead gets closer to his shoulder.

"Yeah, I am."

"Not to me."

"I used to be."

"I know," you yawn. "I forgive you."

As you fall asleep, you think you might hear an apology slip through his lips.

-

When you wake up the next morning, Mark's gone. But you wake up on your side, covered in a blanket, the trash can placed strategically by your head. On your coffee table is a glass of water and two painkillers. And next to them is a sticky note.

Ace,

eat first. Don't take on an empty stomach.

-Mark

You smile and chug the water, then take the pills anyway. Your stitches ache, and your brain pulses against your skull, but you grip the note tightly in your hand, content to slip it into a drawer somewhere and 'forget' to throw it away.

Yep. Maybe an asshole. But not last night. Not today.

-·=»◆‡«=·-♡·=»◆‡«=·-

Sorry if it's OOC but Mark's not a super fluffy guy. This seemed like a natural-ish way to play it. Thanks for the req, anon!!

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

My mom comes over a couple of times a week to help me keep the apartment tidy and to body-double so I can focus on work.

"Mind if I open this?" she asked me this morning, holding up an envelope I'd tossed onto a pile of clutter the week before. I hadn't opened it because I already knew what it was—the decision of my appeal against being judged "medically ineligible" for permanent disability benefits, which are almost double what I get now and would cover rent and food. Absolutely everyone, from disabled advocacy groups to the legal aid lawyer who helped prep me for the hearing, told me that there was basically no chance I'd get deemed eligible on the first appeal. Normally it takes 2 or 3 application-appeal cycles (9-10 months each) for people to get into the program.

"Go ahead," I told her, and then turned back to other work. I've got a lot to do given how well my Kickstarter is doing, whether it's setting up the behemoth new printer I got off Kijiji for 10% of its original value, to scheduling work meetings with my newly-hired personal assistant. I've always got so much on my plate, and the number of hours in the day I can focus on it is countable on my hand that's missing fingers. And I'd love to get a sewing pattern out for my "just the sleeves, please" costume idea out in enough time for people to use it for Halloween, but I still need to make mock-ups and hire someone who's used to producing digital sewing patterns.

"I think," Mom said quietly, leafing through the letter, "that you won."

The letter ends like this:

Conclusion: The Panel finds that the Appellant meets the definition of "severe handicap" as is set out in the Regulation and therefore reverses the Director's decision.

Yeah. It means I won.

The benefits program will require another eight weeks to double-check my financial eligibility using information they already have, and to process my new program status to reflect an increased benefit rate and a different health insurance program.

Right now I'm really feeling this line from Komarr, by Lois McMaster Bujold: "But do you know--well, of course you could, but… the business with [throwing yourself at] the brick wall. Failure, failure was grown familiar to me. Comfortable, almost, when I stopped struggling against it. I did not know achievement was so devastating."

It felt like my whole life ended in a flaming wreck when I had to give up counselling. I lost part of who I was when I did that, and spent years telling myself I'd pull up my socks at any minute and go right back to it. But the truth is, I am not capable of doing that job as well as it needs to be done, and it's one of those jobs where you half-ass things at the peril of the vulnerable people who trust you.

And what if... the worst had happened, and I lost it all, and then in clawing my way out of the pit, trying to get purchase on absolutely any kind of survival I could, I found my way to something new and solid and real. What if it was okay after all?

I'm still having trouble believing it, but the letter keeps saying what it said.

I'm gonna go sew things, and see if it feels any more real in the morning.

[dragon-kazansky]

Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

SEASON 2 CONTENT AHEAD!!!

Blackbeard rules the sea. Despite wanting his captain back, Izzy realises his mistake. Protecting the crew is his concern. Protecting you is his life mission. Stede's return brings hope, but there's a lot of work to be done before this crew becomes a family.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Spoilers. Izzy's depression spiral. No real unicorns were harmed in the making of Izzy's new leg. Things get a little steamy at the end.

Chapter Thirteen - Loving touch

♡♡♡

Stede had gathered the crew, minus Izzy, to talk to them all. Turns out Ed woke up. You swore under your breath when you heard that. No way is that man going to be happy with any of you.

"What happened to your face?" Pete asked Stede who was standing to a bruise on his cheek.

"Bet Blackbeard did that, didn't he?" Wee John asks.

"It was an accident. Okay? I think Ed just sat up too quickly," Stede says.

"That's what they all say," Roach states.

"As you know, he's gone through quite the ordeal and he does need to regain his strength," Stede explains.

"Yeah. He'll probably get around to killing you after he's rested," Jim says, looking Stede in the eye.

"Yeah, I'd say it's a pretty obvious mistake letting him get strong again," Lucius points out. You nod.

"Kick him off the ship already!" Jim yells.

"We just don't banish people, do we?" Stede says. "That's not us. Let's give him some time, perhaps to rebound a bit."

"Medically speaking, the man can't speak, and his brain is maybe couscous." Roach points out. "Also, gonna need that steak back. It's dinner."

"Right. Yes, aye."

"Maybe we should put it to the vote," Fang suggests.

"Do we have to do this now?" Stede asks.

The crew start yelling.

♡♡♡

Stede got his answers from the crew, that much was clear enough. As you head out, Stede catches up to you.

"You were awfully quiet in there."

"Don't get me wrong. I agree with them, Ed has to go."

Stede's expression falls.

"I know you like him, but that man... he did things. He hurt people like I've never seen before. He hurt Izzy..."

"Ah yes, Izzy. How is he?" Stede asks.

"He's been better."

"Where is he anyway? I didn't see him in there."

"Drinking probably. He, uh, he's stopped talking to me at the moment. He won't talk to anyone."

Stede frowns again. "He's stopped talking to you?"

"I think it's the constant drinking... It's making him... upset. Like, more than before."

"I see..."

You shrug lightly and sigh. "Look, I'm not looking for sympathy. You're the captain, sort this out."

You walk off. Stede watches you go, his heart feeling heavy. Maybe he could have a word with Izzy for you.

♡♡♡

You sit on deck with the wooden sparrow in your hands. After everything that happened it had survived. Izzy had kept it in his cabin. You had found it when you had gone in there to find him. Izzy was nowhere to be seen, but the sparrow was sitting on his desk. There was a slight chip in the wood, right on the wing, but for the most part it looked good.

You sigh as you run your finger carefully over it's little head. Did Izzy even notice it was gone? Probably not.

"The atmosphere around here sucks," Lucius sighs, sitting down next to you. You notice the cigarette between his fingers, but you don't ask. "What's that?" He nods toward the wooden bird.

"Marietta."

"Marietta?" He looks at you with a funny expression.

"That's what I called it. It was a gift for Izzy from me. I dropped the first one in the sea while I was angry at him... so I remade her." You hold the sparrow up. "She's a little beaten, but still in nest condition."

"You carved him a bird?"

"Look, I can't draw like you can. I can't make sew like Frenchie, or knit like Wee John. I can, however, whittle."

Lucius smiles a little. "I like it."

A moment of silence passes while you play with the bird in your hands a little more.

"So, you and Izzy?"

"So, you and Pete?" You reply, sarcastically.

"We're fine," he says defensively. "What's going on with your boyfriend?"

You raise your eyes to Lucius. "Blackbeard abused him. Punished him. Took his leg. He's a little upset at the moment. Rightfully so."

Lucius stands up a little defensively. "We've all been through shit," he says.

You narrow your eyes at him. "I'm not saying you haven't. We thought you were dead!"

"Well, I wasn't." He puts out his cigarette. "I've suffered too and it's all his fault!" He points to where Blackbeard is tied up on the deck.

"He's fucked everyone over, Lucius. Just need Stede to get his ass in gear and do something about it."

Lucius sighs. "Do you think anything will ever go back to how it was?"

"No," you admit honestly. "But I do believe things can get better. In time."

Lucius says nothing. He glares at Blackbeard and then leaves. You sigh and return to holding the bird, caressing it again gently.

"Oh, Izzy..."

♡♡♡

Stede found Izzy at the front of the ship. He was leaning on some of the rope rigging, his wooden leg propped up on the railing. In his other hand was a bottle of rum, of which he was drinking merrily.

He looked a mess.

Stede offered him a smile as he joined him, ignoring the look Izzy was throwing his way. He means over and notices the unicorn is missing it's head.

"He's seen better days, hasn't he?" Stede asks in a lighthearted manner.

"At least he's still got both legs!" Izzy yells.

"Yes!" Stede joins in. "He can't hear you, he's go no head. You've got a head, though, which you should look after."

Izzy down his rum. Stede sighs.

"What do you want, Bonnet?" Izzy asks, not really in the mood for conversation.

"Well, here's the thing. The crew, they're in a bit of a deadlock over the whole banishment of Ed thing and I just thought, seeing as, well, you were the one who kept his body aboard, maybe you should weigh in. You've already murdered him once. Seems like a pretty good payback." He chuckles softly. "So, what do you think?"

"My vote?" Izzy leans in a little closer to Stede. "A rotten let's got to come off."

"Right. Just to confirm, was that a nay or yay on the banishment?"

Izzy just drinks some more.

"Right... I suppose I just mention that our Spirit of the sea is worried about you. You've stopped talking to them apparently..."

Izzy says nothing.

"Don't push them out, Izzy."

Izzy just drinks from his bottle again. Stede sighs and takes his leave.

♡♡♡

"So! We, the crew of The Revenge, have voted and we've chosen banishment, unfortunately." Frenchie states, announcing the result. "So, yeah. Effective immediately. Your complimentary dinghy awaits you portside. Now leave, please."

"Fuck off," Ed hisses, walking past him. You watch him closely.

"Alright, rude."

"Fuck you," Ed laughs softly, walking past Olu.

"First time I've been on this side of a walk of shame," Wee John comments.

"Way to make this awkward, bruh," Archie says.

"Shitty sailing with you." Jim chimes in.

"You're making it really hard to look up to you, man," Pete sighs.

"Hey, made you this sandwich for the trip," Roach says, holding it out to him. Ed slaps it out of his hand and Stede catches it

"You don't want your sammie?" Stede looks sad.

Ed slaps it out of Stede's hand and it hits Lucius in the face. You have to cover your mouth to stop from laughing. Lucius bites back his laughter too. It really isn't a funny moment, throwing someone off the ship, but at least you can find something to laugh about, you supposed.

"Ed, say something at least."

Ed turns his head and looks at Stede.

"You're not a fuckin' mermaid."

You knit your brows together in confusion by that statement. Stede looked equally confused.

"What?"

Ed climbs off the ship and into the dinghy. Stede looks down and watches him, you and Lucius part with the rest if the crew, not hanging about to watch any longer.

Ed was gone. That was that.

♡♡♡

"Is it me or does the energy around here seem off?" Wee John asked.

"By 'the energy,' do we mean him?" Roach nods over to Lucius who was smiling and freaking out a little. "Or him?" He gestures over to where Izzy is still standing at the front of the ship yelling at the unicorn.

"Well, mythical creature?" Izzy yells. You sigh as you watch him from where you stand. He still wasn't talking to you much. "Anything to say to yourself? Fuck you!"

"Or them?" Roach asks, looking at Jim, Archie, Frenchie, and Fang scrubbing the deck of any "possible" bloodstains left over from where Edward had bled out.

"Do you still see blood?"

"Yeah. We'll get it. Just keep scrubbing."

"They're lookin' this way." Fang says.

You tune out the rest of their conversation to watch your stupid drunk pirate curse at the unicorn some more. If only you could talk to him. He would surely listen to you.

It was breaking your heart to see him fall apart like this. Izzy hadn't held you since you got back onto The Revenge. He was shutting you out, suffering on his own.

You hated it.

You try not to let the tears fall as you walk away, letting Izzy do whatever the fuck he wanted.

♡♡♡

Olu had invited you to join the crew for a surprise. Jim had speculated they were planning to kill you all off for being disturbed after sailing with Blackbeard. You thought it was a bit of a stretch, but you wouldn't put it last them either.

You were all guided below deck where the surprise was.

"You gotta close your 'cause it's a surprise." Olu says.

No one does that, everyone sceptical. Frenchie leads you all behind Olu. You find Pete and Wee John waiting.

"Ta da!"

Wee John moves to reveal the surprise.

The crew all jump and startle, hiding the knives they were all carrying behind their backs incase of an attack.

"Fuck!" Lucius sighs, jumpy enough already.

"Guys, it's called a pine-ata." Pete says.

"Yeah. So, you just pull this string and then--" Olu tries to explain.

"And then you hit it with a stick!" Pete demonstrates.

Everyone is triggered. PTSD from the storm, from Blackbeard.

"Time for blindfolding." Wee John tries.

"Stay the fuck sway from me!" Jim yells.

"You won't want to stay the fuck away from this came!" Roach says, brining the cake in.

You feel your stomach churn at the sight of it. It looks like the wedding cake...

"God's sake, take it away!" Fang screams.

You all draw your weapons. Yeah, even you. This is too much, too soon. This how it ends up at a stand off.

"One-half of this room has some serious emotional damage," Jim explains, holding Wee John in a choke hold. "And it's not us."

"Well, it's not us!" Wee John says back.

You have your knife pointing at Olu.

"Right, so, is everybody else's arms and various limbs getting tired?" Frenchie asks.

"Alright, look, look, look, look. I think there's actually an easier way to resolve this." Olu days, eyeing your knife. "Yes? Right. So you all think that we're plottin' against you?"

"Yeah," you nod.

"Which, in hindsight, maybe was inaccurate." Frenchie says. "I don't know, you tell me."

"Okay. So, can we all agree to just not jump the other crew and solve this as fuckin' adults?" Olu asks.

"You're saying this is like a space that is safe?" Jim asks him.

"Yeah, babe." Olu looks at them.

"I love that."

"A safe space."

"Yeah, okay."

You all lower your knives. You take a deep breath. Nearly lost your cool there.

"A lot has gone unsaid," Roach speaks. "I think now is a great time to discuss lingering issues."

"Yeah, yeah, absolutely." Archie nods. "Can we talk about the fucked-up sleeping arrangements?"

"Excuse me, do you even have a name, new guy?" Wee John asks her.

"Yeah, fuck you is her name." Jim starts, drawing their knife again.

"Hey, stupid name for a person," Roach draw his knife on Jim.

"You know my name is Archie," she point her weapon at Roach.

Everyone draws their weapons again. You sigh and point your knife at Olu again, but he doesn't sense any actual malice from you.

The sound of something thudding against the floor draws everyone's attention to the door. You turn and your heart skips a beat at the sight of Izzy. Two wooden legs at his feet.

"There! It's done!" He yells. "Maybe next time he'll think twice about not doing his fucking--" Izzy's peg leg breaks from under him as he raises his crutch and he falls harshly to the ground.

You gasp and drop your knife, hurrying over to him. He shrugs you off.

"Get off me! Fuck off!"

You sit there on your knees as he rolls over and starts crawling down the hall. Your heart breaks watching him.

"Leave me alone! I'm already gone." He mutters. He starts repeating a phrase over and over again. "You're born alone, you die alone. You're born alone, you die alone."

You can feel tears building up again. God, only Izzy could ever make you cry so much.

"Yeah, he's definitely more disturbed than any of us," Lucius says, watching Izzy go.

You try to hide your teary eyes as you get up and leave.

♡♡♡

You're sat up on deck with yours curled up wiping away the tears that were falling. If only you could get that stupid man to talk to you. You just wound to heal his internal wounds, and soothe his external wounds.

You don't hear the door open, but you do hear footsteps coming over. You turn your face away, but you know it's Fang who is now sitting beside you. He has one of the unicorn legs in his hand.

"You okay?" He asks softly. Fang was a soothing presence.

"Spectacular," you mutter.

He look down at the wooden leg and then back at you.

"We, uh, we had an idea for Izzy."

You wipe your eyes again. "Yeah?"

"We're gonna make him a new leg. You wanna help? It would sure mean a lot if you gave it to him after." Fang smiles.

"You want me to help?"

"I think Izzy would like that, don't you?"

You shrug quietly. "I don't know. He's not exactly talking to me right now."

"Aw, listen. He still loves you. He's just hurting, but maybe we can help. Let's do something good for him."

Fang offers you a small smile.

You find yourself smiling back. You reach over and take the leg from him. "Okay. Let me see what we can do."

Less than 30 minutes later the leg is being constructed, the crew are gathered to help. Fang constructs the leg into a strong, comfortable, and practical leg. Lucius had got some gold paint to add something that little bit extra.

You smile as you paint the leg.

"The gold was a gold touch."

Lucius smiles, happy he could help.

You leave the leg to dry and then Fang returns to your side with it. You sigh as you take it, looking it over.

"We sure it will do?" You ask.

"Its been measured and made just for Izzy. It will more than do. Oh don't forget the note." Fang holds out the parchment.

You take the leg and take the note.

"Right..."

"Just leave it outside his door if he doesn't want to talk. I can assure you he'll talk to you again soon."

You nod and make your way to Izzy's cabin.

♡♡♡

As you approach Izzy's door, you don't hear much. It's almost too quiet for your liking. You hover outside the door, the leg in hand. That's when you hear his voice. He's talking to someone.

"And you? What's your excuse?" You hear him say. You lean a little closer to listen, worried about him. "I mean, what even are you?"

You knock on the door hoping he'll answer.

"Fuck off." You hear him shout. You knock again firmly. "Fuck off!" He yells again.

You sigh. Telling him it was you probably wouldn't make a difference. You prop the leg up but the door, tucking the note and Marietta, Izzy's carved sparrow that you still had, into it.

You knock again and hurry away, disappearing down the hall.

"You are harassing a cripple! Fucking twats!" Izzy yells, no longer realising the person has gone from behind his door. He limps his way over and opens it, looking down the hall.

He sees no one.

His gaze drops down to the item waiting for him. He sees the note and the bird. He reads the note first, all emotion clogging up in his throat.

Those little shits.

He cries. Izzy covers his mouth as tears overwhelm him. He looks up down the hall, trying not to break down.

"Fucking cocksuckers."

He sees the sparrow and picks it up. It's then he realises you had been the one knocking. His finger close around the bird and the tears fall freely.

Shit. He's been really shit to you.

Izzy hold the sparrow against his chest and takes a few deep breaths. He grabs the leg and hobbles back inside his room.

♡♡♡

It's the early hours of the morning.

Izzy stands on deck with his new leg on. It's a good fit. Made really well. His hair is slicked back against his scalp, out of his face. His face is a little cleaner. No rum in sight.

In one hand he's clutching the ring he wears under his clothes, hanging from a string of twine. He smiles as he looks down at it.

In his other hand is the note. His eyes drift over to the words written on it. His heart feels full.

'For the new unicorn.'

Izzy smiles.

With the dawn of a new day comes a new Izzy. A healing Izzy.

He's going to be okay.

No. He'll be more than okay.

He just needs to talk to you first.

♡♡♡

The sun hasn't even risen yet when Izzy wakes you. You've been sleeping with the rest of the crew since Izzy stopped talking to you, so he had to be quiet when waking you. You're startled awake by something hitting your face again and again.

You wake up to find little balls of paper being thrown at you. You look up to see Izzy waving you over. You look at him confused. He wasn't talking to you befkre, and now he wants to?

That's when you notice the leg and your heart begins to race.

You climb out of bed and make your way out of the room, not waking a single person. You follow Izzy into his cabin and enter cautiously. He looks tidier, cleaner, more content.

"Izzy?"

He stands there and looks at you. There are several emotions flickering in his eyes, but he finds his words in no time.

"Thank you."

You stand there awkwardly. "I didn't do anything."

Izzy inhales loud enough for you to hear as he looks down at his leg, his hand resting over his thigh. "You did this."

"It was the crew's idea."

Izzy holds up the sparrow. "I noticed it was gone, but there was only one place it could be."

You nod your head softly.

Izzy puts the sparrow down and walks over to you, closing the distance between you both. You find your heart rate picking up as you look into those beautiful eyes of him.

"I love you," he whispers.

Just like that he's reaching out and kissing you. You're in his arms again. You return his kiss, having missed his lips. Having missed him. You reach out and take hold of him.

The kiss is hot, passionate, desperate. It's significance lies with the fact that you two spend all your time wanting each other, but when you're hurting, you don't reach out for one another.

You remove his scarf, taking the ring around it and carefully placing it down. It belonged to his mother and you know he would definitely curse you if you lost it. You begin to undress him, and he, you.

Clothes land on the floor. The soft thud of his wooden foot taps lightly on the floor as he moves you over to his bed.

Doing this right after the emotional rollercoaster you both has been through probably wasn't the best idea, but this time no one could stop you both, and this was long overdue.

You push Izzy down on the bed and take care of him, admiring him. You notice the other ring around his neck. You had seen it before, but it's origins you hadn't known. He was wearing it last time you did this too.

Still, your mind was focused on other things.

Safe to say, both of you are going to be a little late getting up tomorrow.

♡♡♡

@grippleback-galaxy - @askmarinaandothers - @godlikegallagher - @for-fuck-sake-im-alive - @whiskeyswriting - @lxsm2 - @bloody-bunni666 - @the-chocoholic-writer - @bugbugboy - @callmemana - @the-shenny-of-azkaban - @cool-ontherun-world - @outer-space-beech - @ahewi24 - @grace585 - @innertimemachinegirl - @dmitrytherat - @emilynissangtr -

[deejadabbles]

A Tooka for a Puppy (Wrecker Comfort Fluff)

Idk if this has been done before, but I just really love the idea of making plushies for Wrecker, so I wrote a mini fic about the idea. This is a reader insert but the relationship between you and Wrecker isn't explicitly romantic, can be read as platonic. Also the title is based off the fact that Wrecker is a giant puppy <3

Nightmares were not unheard of on the Marauder and unfortunately, you had grown too familiar with what each crew member sounded like when the woke from them.

It was your lookout shift and, though you had been curled up with your favorite blanket in the pilot chair, you knew you needed something to drink if you were going to make it the rest of watch. You were glad you had gotten up when you did.

Just as you were pouring your drink, you heard a clatter, the muffled sounds of ragged breathing following

You were by Wrecker's side in an instant. Even as you stroked his back- his usual calming method, he scrambled around his bunk for something, desperate and still breathing hard. It took the better part of ten minutes to calm him down enough to ask what he was looking for.

"Lula," he had said, voice graveled and shaken, "I keep thinking I lost her in the middle of the night. Forget I gave her to the kid."

Wrecker had one of the kindest hearts in the galaxy, that you were sure. He practically begged you not to mention his nightmares in front of Omega.

"Don't want her to try 'an give Lula back. She needs her more than me."

It made your heart ache. No one ever gave Wrecker enough credit for his deep wealth of empathy.

You had to do something. If he didn't have Lula, maybe a whole new tooka was in order. It took several days, even though you were between missions at the moment- sewing supplies weren't exactly common on the Marauder. Some things from the med-bay's stitching helped and as for material...well, the aforementioned favorite blanket, its fabric was a decent enough mimic of tooka fur.

Now you were standing in the hallway to the bunks, waiting for Wrecker to switch off his watch shift with Hunter. You heard his thudding footfalls first, then a loud yawn as he ducked through the door way.

He blinked a little when he saw you but quickly had that cute smile on.

"I've got a surprise for you."

Wrecker's face was alight in an instant, he loved getting presents, especially since they were so rare. "Oooo! What is it, what is it?!"

Slowly, and maybe a little sheepishly, you pulled your hand from behind your back, "I know she's not Lula, but, I thought maybe a new Tooka could help you sleep better."

He all but froze as he stared down at the stuffed animal. As if he were afraid it was made of glass, he raised his hand, not even daring to grab it as he just brushed his fingers along the fabric.

"You...you made this?"

You nodded.

"For me?"

A little chuckle, "Yes, Wrecker. You were so sweet, giving Lula to Omega even though you still need her, I just wanted you to have-"

Before your sentence was even finished, big arms scooped you up and hoisted you off your feet. Wrecker all but buried his face in your shoulder as he spun you around, that boyish laugh bubbling in his throat.

Though, even when the motion slowed, he stayed like that a moment longer, arms wrapped around you and forehead braced against your neck. When Wrecker finally pulled back you thought you saw a glimmer of tears in the crinkled corner of his eyes.

You smiled back at him, and pressed the doll into his hands. He hugged it to his chest- but his face fell just a bit as his thumb ran over the fuzzy material.

"She looks like that blanket you love!" he gasped, mind putting two and two together.

You shrugged, "Eh, I've been needing to get a new one for awhile, figured it could make a better tooka than a cover."

His expression said he didn't quite believe you, but, because this was Wrecker, he just pulled that determined grin. "First chance I get, I'm gonna get you the BEST blanket in the galaxy!"

That made you laugh, there he went again, thinking of others, "Thanks, Wrecker."

"No, thank you! " he pulled you into a one armed hugged this time, cheek resting on your head as he said, "You're the best."

A content sigh left you when you returned the gesture, enjoying the soft warmth of the embrace. "Nah, you are big guy."

[bomberqueen17]

Matcha Top Sewalong #5

Done! All I need to do is hem it.

But. For sewing-alonging-purposes here's the last day of work on it. And once I've hemmed it I need to like. Measure it and then make my decisions about what adjustments to transfer back to the paper pattern for my final draft. Because of course my buzzy brain wants to immediately move on to a new shiny thing (we're gonna make leggings next) but the actual smart thing to do is to make this over again in a fair copy in really nice fabric. (In a drastically adjusted size.) Because I do like it.

So anyway, the breakdown:

So I think when we'd last left off, I'd decided I needed to unpick the shoulder detail and gather several inches of excess shoulder seam length under it. So I did that; I cut off a couple of inches of the faux-epaulette, and then put gathering threads along the seam and pulled those taut, pinned it down, and re-sewed it.

[image description: Blue fabric under the presser foot of an old sewing machine, with a stiffened piece of black fabric with embroidery on it lying over the top. I'm pulling on two thick white threads with my fingers, pulling the gathers tight prior to pinning the placket down and then distributing the gathers with my fingertips as I sew over them. Yeah I'm not a big fan of a thousand pins.]

Remember the whole point of this was that as the pattern isn't properly scaled, it was assuming that me having huge tits also meant my shoulders were vastly broad. And they're not. But I didn't want to cut off excess fabric because that would alter the shape of the armscye (that's the curved seam on the body of a shirt into which a sleeve is set, or that forms the sleeve opening in a sleeveless garment, and it's pronounced arm-sigh, for any of y'all who haven't done a lot of sewing youtubing yet lol)-- setting a sleeve head into an armscye is an exercise in patience and wizardry at the best of times, attempting to alter either one is likely to result in jankety disaster.

As it happens, this pattern already has you gather excess bodice width into the collar, to give its distinctive shaping. It turns out that gathering excess shoulder width under the faux-epaulette also looks baller as fuck, so I'm going to take that into consideration as I cut my next draft out.

So next was setting in the sleeves:

[image description: on a flowered ironing board, the blue fabric is sitting with the curved armscye carefully laid flat and the top of the sleeve head pinned to the top of the armscye curve. On top of all that, my perfect angel clingy cat is sitting on the garment with her tail curved right into my working space.]

The sleeves went on pretty easily-- I get why they have you do it before the collar but honestly it didn't matter that I did them after-- and then the last step was to sew up the side seams, which was so easy I didn't even pin it anywhere, I just matched up the underarm seams and pulled the seams straight either side of it, got the seam allowance to lay right, and then sewed it in one go.

Now for the try-on.

[iimage description: a mirror selfie of me in a large drapey blue garment with my arm held out to one side. The sleeve extends to my wrist, touching the back of my hand.]

These sleeves are supposed to be elbow-length but again, the scaling up in all directions equally does not take into account the fact that I do not have tits on my elbows nor are my arms plus-length. It's pretty safe to say I could cut a size 14 of this garment all around and still have plenty of ease. I measured, and have cut off six inches from these sleeves to hem them.

[image description: me half-turned wearing the drapey blue garment, showing the V-neck detail, the shoulder pleating (though the lighting isn't ideal to show it off, sorry), and the length of the sleeves. The background is partly blurred by the phone's Portrait setting, but not entirely; it is my mother-out-law's bedroom because she has a huge mirrored closet door. By my leg, my cat is sitting with her tail touching me because she was so clingy yesterday, and the silhouette of her ear looks like something's wrong with my calf.]

There's a lot of ease in this, which I get is the design of it; I am actually torn about sizing down at all. I might not! I love that it's so swingy.

As far as the length, IDK. I left two extra inches on the bodice panels for hemming, I always wind up with my hems uneven and I wanted to leave room to not have to cut it shorter than I wanted. The last smock I made is SO short in the back because i'd fucked up the cutting and there was one divot at a hem that couldn't be evened out any longer, and i'd meant it to be wearable as a solo layer but thanks to this i have to wear it over other layers, ugh. So. Anyway. IDK. it's hard to tell the length because depending where you set the collar on your shoulders it can vary so much. Next version should probably have a smaller size of the collar and shoulder details for sure.

[image description: a closer-up mirror selfie in bad yellow lighting of the shoulder detail and upper sleeve of the garment]

But the detail of gathering the bodice sleeve under the shoulder detail does look good, I do like it. So I'm going to do that again in my next draft. I'm just deciding-- do I size down overall, and then slash-and-spread to put width back in to gather up here? or do I just size down overall and figure there'll still be plenty of width?

I just have to decide. Either way, the shoulder detail needs to both be narrower and thinner, smaller every direction, and also I feel like the interfacing is actually too stiff. I might just interline it with fabric for the next version, I can't decide.

In the meantime, I'm going to hem this garment with the shortened sleeves and I think I will actually wear it a fair bit, it's comfortable and reasonably cute. Might shorten the overall hem too, need to decide on that.

Either way I need to write down my adjustments and probably make myself cut out the next version before I forget, and before I move on to the next thing, which as I said, is leggings, and I'm excited to work on those lol.

[barry-j-blupjeans]

24 for object and 20 for emotion? :>

object + emotion prompt list here!

24. Costume for a lizard or perhaps small rodent

20. OH BUT I GOTTA KNOW??? I GOTTA

--

Magnus was not good at sewing. In fact, he was the exact opposite. He was very bad at sewing. Incredibly, horribly bad. He took home ec in high school and he got an F in sewing. His mom tried multiple times to teach him and Magnus wished, not for the first time, that anything had stuck inside his little brain, but it hadn't. His other mom had tried, too, but she couldn't get past watching him attempt to thread a needle before she took him outside to play soccer instead.

His fingers were just too beefy, was the thing. And the thread was just so tiny.

Magnus was not good at sewing. But he figured it was time to make up for it.

He had to get the things to sew first, of course, which also hadn't been an easy task. He had to sneak into town, which was already difficult because of the aforementioned beefy. And if people didn't see him going into town, they definitely saw him squeezing his way into the small fabric store at the end of the corridor. This shop was made for people half his size. Both in a figurative way, where everything was tiny and fragile and Magnus was the bull in this china-fabric shop, and in a literal way, where the shop owner was a gnome.

But she had taken one look at Magnus's desperate, confused face and taken pity. She knew where all the good fabrics were— the ones that didn't make his skin itch or feel too heavy. And she patiently sat through showing Magnus how to begin sewing, threading the needle and all. Magnus was now wishing he had taken her up on the rest of the lesson she wanted to offer because this thing he was making was…

Well. It… was a thing that now existed in the world. What once was beautiful, soft pretty fabric was now…

Okay, nope. Magnus had nothing good he could say about this shit. It was somehow ten times too small and too big all in one. The head opening could fit around his wrist maybe? But the legs definitely needed… help. Lots of help. He had tried to remember all his mother's advice and while he had started with the fabric flipped inside out, as he was supposed to do, it had somehow gone onto the wrong side anyway.

"Magnus," said a voice from behind him. A soft hand touched his shoulder. A familiar body pressed against his back. "What the ever-loving fuck are you making?"

Magnus groaned, leaning back against Julia. She smelled like peaches today. Magnus liked peaches. The light from the window hurt his eyes when he looked up. He didn't know what time it was anymore.

"It was gonna be a surprise," Magnus said, hiding his face in his hands.

"Well, surprised is a word that could be used to describe how I feel," Julia said. "Amongst other contenders."

"It's— don't laugh at me."

Julia leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She pressed a kiss to his head.

"I make no promises, babe."

"Fair," Magnus said. "Fair— Fair enough— it's, uh— it was supposed to be a onesie. Y'know, for…"

He could practically feel Julia's smile, which had to count for something. And when he looked up at her, sure enough, there it was. She tilted her head at the… onesie attempt… and glanced down at him again.

"You did a pretty shit job," she said.

"Yeah," Magnus sighed. "I just thought— well, my ma made me my first onesie, so I just thought I'd try for— for them?"

"I currently don't think they care," Julia said. She circled around, pulling up a stool to sit next to the desk. She took the onesie from his hands, appraising it. Magnus leaned against her, moving one hand to rest against her stomach. The baby bump wasn't quite there yet, but he got giddy thinking about how it will be soon. "But I think we can figure this out before they will."

"You think?" Magnus asked. Julia set the onesie down, turning to kiss him.

"I'm sure," Julia said. After a moment, she glanced back at the onesie. "I like the fabric but I— I gotta know how you managed to do— …this."

"I don't know," Magnus said miserably.

"It looks like a costume for a lizard," Julia said. Magnus bit back a laugh. "Or perhaps a small rodent—"

"It's not that bad!" he laughed.

"Mags, baby," Julia said. "If you don't think it's not that bad, I'm not sure I can change your mind in T-minus eight months."

"It's— it's not that bad," he insisted. "It's got character!"

"I want the writer to kill it off," Julia said. Magnus cackled, his head falling against her shoulder. "I love you so much. We need to buy more fabric. You've fucked this one up too badly. How did you manage to use the entire godsdamn yard making a rat cloth—"

"I tried my best!" Magnus said.

"I am deeply afraid to see your worst."

[willsimpforanyone]

I just thought this would be fun, but could you Will solace X any reader, where the reader basically has semi invincibility (?) For example where the reader's head gets cut off and they can just reattach it to themselves, how do you think he will react to to

this is hilarious i can absolutely do that

obv this has some body horror in it, i actually want to be a horror writer so this is good practice

---------------------------------

I groaned as my ribs popped back into place.

No matter how many times I did it, there was still that twinge of pain that came with adjusting my skeleton. Breathing deeply a couple times, I took a moment in the fight to check in with everything.

Ribs fixed, done. Head thumping slightly from being clocked in the head, not a big deal. Other bones mostly in place and not shattered, so I'm doing okay.

I glanced over to where Will was. Gorgeous blonde hair an absolute mess, skin dusted grey with dead monster from the first manticore we dispatched. I shook my head slightly, and lunged back into the fray.

My sword swung wildly but it hit it's mark, making slashes and spraying blood everywhere. I stabbed and slashed and used my advantage to get in close to the monster to attack it's weak spots.

A sharp pain flashed through my wrist, and instinctively I jerked back, clutching my limb to my body. Momentarily distracted by my sudden movements, the monster turned fully away from Will and allowed him to land a solid blow into the manticore's centre. The beast exploded in a shower of dust and before the ash even settled, Will was by my side.

"Hey, hey, what happened?" His hands hovered over mine, eyes wide but focused. In the back of my mind, I fluttered at the sudden change into medic Will from battle Will all because of little ol' me.

I looked down, one hand clutching my wrist to my chest, blood soaking the front of my t-shirt. I felt bone and muscles and tendon under my fingers and groaned in both pain and realisation.

"Um, honey, I need you to not freak out, okay?" I hissed through my teeth, adrenaline wearing off and the agony of my hand being detached from my arm kicking in hard. "I'm gonna need your help, and you're gonna have to wait to freak out."

Will nodded. "Whatever, how do I help, what do I help with?"

I slumped to the floor against a wall, slightly dizzy from blood loss. "Okay, don't throw up, but I need to rip off my hand."

Will shrieked something incomprehensible. I inhaled sharply through my nose and he knelt down. "What the fuck, what the fuck."

"If you can't deal, look away, because to get it to heal cleanly I need to have a clean break, not hanging on like this, okay?" I learned this the hard way, a couple fingers will forever be slightly wonky. Will physically steeled himself, placing one hand on my leg and the other on my shoulder.

"Do it."

I gritted my teeth, and tore my hand off. The sickening sound of skin splitting and muscle tearing had Will retching but he stayed where he was, hand solid and supportive on my shoulder.

Breathing deeply, I gave him a shaky smile. "Okay, you did good, now help me hold this steady, I need it still as I reattach it, yeah?"

Will exhaled, but nodded. "Y-yeah, okay." He sat down properly, and took a hold of the hand-less arm. "I'll hold this still, you put the... the hand where it needs to go, right?"

I nodded. "It takes a couple minutes, but then I'll be fine."

Gently, and with no small amount of pain, I touched my hand to my wrist. I concentrated with all my power, feeling the bones fuse, the muscle knit together, skin sewing itself over everything. Tears pricked at my eyes, stinging and a lump lodged in my throat.

True to my word, in a few minutes, all that was left was a jagged red-pink scar looping around my arm like a brand. Will tore his eyes away from the spectacle to look at me. "W-we good?"

I nodded, leaning my head back against the wall. Will nodded, stood up, walked a few paces away, and promptly threw up. I could hear his breathing, heavy and deep. He swallowed, took a sip of his water from his backpack and returned.

"You okay?" I gave him a weak smile.

He slid down next to me, a breathy laugh punched out of him. "No, that was horrifying." He leaned his head on my shoulder. "I've been working as a medic in camp for years, and that is one of the worst things I've ever seen. Since when can you do that?"

I nudged him with my elbow. "Sorry, I meant to tell you, it was just never a good time." Tentatively, I stretched my fingers, slowly regaining feeling and movement. "I'm indestructible, even without ambrosia or nectar, always have been."

Will nodded. still looking pale. "Well, we should get back to camp." He stood, and reached out a hand. With my ordinary hand, I pulled myself up and immediately sat back down. My vision clouded over with static, a ringing piercing my ears.

"Yeah, maybe in a minute."

------------------------------------

this was fun! i hope you enjoyed, thank you for requesting!

[wolfwarden]

For the WIP ask: I am, of course, gently and not at all curiously looking at the Malon mini-Whump? :3

Don't you hate it when you have a hundred fics you need to work on but you have amazingly talented friends that write whump fills that pull you in and you just can't help yourself? You know what you did, Rav. This pales in comparison to the original whump fill, but I have permission to play, so I'm gonna. Have an unedited snippet: ...

"Potion!" Warriors snaps, the bandages he’s pressed against Malon’s back already soaked through. They need a fairy. They have none, so he will take what he can.

A bottle is shoved in his hand, only half-full.

"Last one," Sky gasps, then spins to guard their backs, the fighting still ringing through the room.

Warriors rolls Malon over and tips her head up, ignoring the frantic scuffling of feet, the distant crash of splintering wood, and the ever-present screams of Time calling for his wife. He presses the bottle’s edge to her lips and lets a small stream trickle in. “Drink this.”

She lies still in his arms.

“Malon!” Time is a jerky blur at the edge of Warriors’ vision, arms slamming repeatedly to the far reaches of his iron restraints.

He’s someone else’s problem, Warriors’ mind snaps, shoving down the rising tide of sympathy and sorrow. He tries again to force Malon to drink. “Come on now…” Red potion trickles out the side of her slack mouth.

The chains holding Time to the wall shudder as he lunges forward again. “Malon, wake up! You can’t do this. You have to-” The word cut off in a wet sob.

Warriors’ fingers press at Malon’s neck, a part of him utterly unsurprised to find no answering pulse. He knew. Before his knees had hit this blood-soaked floor, he knew.

"Wars?” As if sensing his hesitation, Time has turned his attention to Warriors. “Please.”

There’s too much emotion wrapped up in that single word. Warriors lets it sweep over his ears, doesn’t let it fully register. He turns Malon back over on the floor, the gash on her back exposed again. A wound too wide to sew up, impossible to tourniquet, too deep to be anything but fatal. He pours red potion down the bleeding line. A waste, the callous part of him whispers. Potions don't work nearly as well when applied externally. It should be saved for someone who will benefit from it. He checks again for pulse. None. He watches for the slightest breath.

"Captain?"

Warriors raises his head, meeting Time’s gaze, keeping his expression blank with everything he has.

Time's eye widens. "No! You can't! Don’t let her go. Don’t you dare." The restraining bolt in the wall lurches, stone fragments pinging on the floor. “Malon!” A wild fury overcomes him and he thrashes forward, straining toward the woman on the floor, shackles cutting deep into his skin. “Malon, look at me!”

Hyrule collapses by Warriors’ side, blood running down his face. Hands go over Malon and the pink glow flares in the dim light.

Then it flickers, flickers, and stutter-stops. Hyrule cries out in despair. "I can't-  I’ve nothing left!"

Time howls, desperate face turning to Hyrule, and Warriors can feel the rage and panic rising like a wave from their usually stoic leader. And Warriors understands. He’s seen it happen so many times. Too many times. Friends, loved ones, raging for ones lost to the war, searching for someone to blame.

He pushes Hyrule back from Time, placing himself front and center. His calm begins to slip, emotions splintering through and he teeters between weeping along with Time and wanting to put his fist through the nearest wall. Well, If he's going to feel something, he'll pick anger. It will hold him together when despair would not. It will sharpen his focus when grief blurs the path.

If he must feel, then anger it will be.

He knocks Malon’s hands to the side and centers himself over her, pressing the heel of his palm to her chest. He drags in one steadying breath, then shoves down with both arms, forcing her heart to beat. Useless. Hopeless. But stopping is unthinkable.

[poutpoutlilith]

Dear @abihasablog,

Happy Festivus! Today's your @squealing-santa day. I'm so honored to have been assigned to you this year. Please enjoy this Steddyhands fic. Lee Stede, of course.

Also, please forgive my complete ineptitude with anything to do with *actually* using this website.

ao3 link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/52440493

Warning: Izzy describes some rather violent acts in conversation, but the acts never happen.

"A Dose of Reason"

Word Count: 3596

Word Count Fact: 3596 is not prime, nor is it square free. There is a unique non-cyclic Abelian group of order 3596.

“Hey, Ed, I wanted your opinion on something,” whined Stede in an abandoned attempt to catch his breath.

“Hmmn?” replied Edward, jingling his bell as he turned his neck to face the captain.

“It’s about Izzy. Was I too harsh on him?”

“What?”

“Our confrontation today. You must have overheard it down there.”

“I-”

“And?” asked Stede, his panic only growing.

“Is that what his yelling was? I couldn’t quite tell what he said to you.” Edward cracked his wrists and folded his hands, now fully turning his body to face Stede.

“I was more worried about what I said to him to set him off like that.”

“Well, for starters, I didn’t even hear it. Given the history of my leadership style, that should tell you everything I think about whatever it was you did.”

“Ed! I’m really upset right now. Words can hurt our feelings, even if spoken softly, remember?” Edward sighed in reluctant agreement.

“You know what? I’ll go have a chat with him.”

“Be subtle,” Stede requested through a shaky voice. Edward smiled back at him, figuring he was just being his usual self and overblowing whatever it was.

“I will. He’ll think I was concerned about his yelling, and he’ll think I was surprised to learn it was you that set him off.”

“You really mean that? You think you can pull it off?”

“I do. I’ll come and find you in about a half hour.”

“Thank you, Ed.”

“Mmn,” nodded Edward brightly as he made haste to go and find Izzy.

“The hell do you want?” Izzy groaned at Edward. He kept his gaze out and unfocused on the southern horizon. Edward only moved closer to him, eventually sitting next to him. “On with it or fuck right off! You know what? Why don’t you just do that and save us both the trouble.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t yelling a bigger storm than usual a little bit ago. I could almost make out what you were saying.”

“Fucking Bonnet! Fucking twat Bonnet!” sprayed Izzy in a coarse tone that somehow made every syllable irate and plosive. A small dribble of saliva landed on his chin, which he harshly brushed away with his knuckles in a closed fist. 

“Captain got you pent up again?” Edward again pried.

“Why don’t you just fuck off and save us the trouble?” Izzy reiterated. Edward stood up in place but did not move, staring at Izzy to bait him into saying something, anything, he could take back to Stede. Eventually Izzy looked up and their eyes met. “Fine, if you’re gonna try and piss me off like this I might as well get pissed.”

“Go ahead, Izzy.”

“Fuck off!” he snapped. “Sometimes I just wanna get ahold of Bonnet and fucking destroy him. Fingers and teeth and blood everywhere. And then sew them back on and do it again. And again and again. Fucking twat! With his fucking feelings. And being right about everything. I ought to fucking kick him or something. Just to see him powerless and without some fucking retort. Hell, I’d even tickle the man if it made him cry.”

“What did he say?” Edward asked suddenly, attempting to mask how he perked up at that last sentence. He was on a mission from the captain, after all, and a secret one at that.

“He told me how I’m such a miserable twat. I mean, he didn’t say it like that. Gugh, I should have told him to fuck off!”

“You did, seven times,” Edward interrupted. Izzy chuckled a bit, but neither man could tell if it was at Edward’s comment or simply a component of the larger exasperated and very angry demeanor on display. Izzy continued, basically ignoring Edward.

“He just told me how I should remember it’s okay to talk about my feelings. How it’s not healthy to keep everything bottled up. About how I’ve been through a lot. About how he cares. The fucking nerve on that fucking Bonnet! Laying it on thick like he’s got it all figured out. I wish he’d figure out how to send himself straight the fucking fuck to fucking hell!” Izzy stopped yelling and let himself sink all the way down onto the deck, staring up at the clouded sky.

“At least you recognize he’s right. Not to sound like I’m on his side or whatever, but maybe there’s a way to work through some of what you said.”

“But you do just sound just like the man. You’re fucking whipped, mate. You even wear a little kitty collar for him.”

“That’s not what that’s for and you know it! And so long as we both know he’s right, we might as well figure something out. I’m going to be honest, I think we should help you make Stede cry a little if that’s your thing.”

“Said like you’ve truly given up on yourself yet again,” Izzy snided. Edward sighed.

“I’m going to go talk to Stede to try and make anyone better during all of this. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Fuck you, Edward,” said Izzy, “and thanks. Thanks a lot.” He sat up and faced the open ocean again, waiting for Edward to leave and go find Stede.

As Edward reentered the room, he found Stede in about the most awkward seating position imaginable. He seemed to be staring at the ceiling, chipper from the clavicle up and a twitchy disaster everywhere below that. Stede snapped around to greet him wordlessly, straightening his posture and wincing in preparation to hear the worst. Edward knew better than to frame a conversation as anything other than what Stede wanted or expected.

“He said you laid it on pretty thick. He’s an absolute mess but deep down he understands why you are the way that you are. But he’s really mad about it.”

“That’s great! Maybe he’ll want to talk it through!” Edward only sighed at Stede’s optimism. It was cute. Futile against a berserking Izzy Hands, but very cute.

“Never, I’m afraid. At least not at first with this one. Listen, uhm, I need you to let him tickle you to tears so he doesn’t dismember you in your sleep or turn your teeth into flour.”

“Well, that’s quite an interesting analysis. He sounds very angry. Perhaps what he’s after is some casual discussion. A dose of reason, to quell his inner-”

“Reason, eh? Is that what you conspiring fucks want to call it?” spat Izzy from some nearby stairs.

“I was only trying to get him to take the tickling option so there’s less blood for me and the crew to clean up,” offered Edward in his own defense.

“Fuck the both of yous!”

“Izzy, try to understand what it is I’m seeking here,” pleaded Stede. Izzy only scoffed and advanced toward him. Stede backed himself against a shelf where Izzy towered beneath him. Stede would never turn the confrontation physical. And Izzy wasn’t about to just lay hands on the captain without any preamble.

“I don’t care what you want, Bonnet. This ship may be yours, but you are an idiot too weak to do anything but bend at the command of your fucking feelings. It makes me sick as hell. And I just wish I could show you the only feeling that matters in the pirate world. Helplessness. Suffering. The sharp and ruthless imbalance of power. Something a rich boy like you can never truly earn a worthwhile perspective on.” Stede winced at Izzy’s words, recoiling in his head as a haunting vision from his childhood took over. The spatter of blood. Everywhere that life has taken him from then on. Back to the present moment where his jaw gaped and he had no idea how to redirect Izzy’s anger with the power of words and heartfelt connection anymore. It felt too deep. Too real.

“You really want to show me how bad it’s supposed to hurt to be alive, don’t you, Mr. Hands?”

“For as long as it takes to shatter that flaccid and privileged skull of yours.”

“Don’t do this,” a sullen Edward suggested. Izzy saw the disappointment in his eyes. It got to him, which felt like a victory for Stede. That stung, and only angered him further. He tried his best to play it off, backing away from Stede and pacing about the immediate area.

“You should know I would never touch my Captain without permission to do so. Let alone all of that blood and guts stuff, tempting as it may be.”

“But you mentioned tickling, though, didn’t you? At least, Ed made it sound like you did. That might actually be quite fun. Edward loves to make me laugh. I’d imagine I’m very fun.”

“This isn’t about fun, Bonnet. It’s a matter of principle is all. But that explains why Ed shifted his posture at my little joke earlier. Fond memories of your intimacies or something?”

“Well, that’s,” started Ed, beet red and wishing he would wake up in Stede’s bed to spare himself the lasting reality of the sudden flash of embarrassment. He looked to Stede, as if beckoning for permission. That permission came with a nod.  “Yeah,” he shrugged, hanging his head and closing his eyes for a moment. Stede came to his rescue.

“The truth is, I actually quite like it,” he confessed with a proud smile. His tone was flat and dull, but he at least managed a confident enough pull at the corners of his mouth that went well with the rosy complexion that was starting to take up residence in his cheeks.

“You fucking would, Bonnet. Of all people and of all things.” Izzy paused in his paces to turn and face Stede. He contemplated his next words carefully, adjusting his posture and tone accordingly before moving just a couple steps closer to Stede. “You know what? That actually sounds kind of cute. I’m still gonna make your kittenthing here help me make you cry, but what do we say we try and make peace by taking one out of both our playbook with a little tickle scene?”

“Right here?” Stede asked.

“And right now,” Izzy smirked. “What do you say?” Stede looked to Edward, who nodded him on.

“Alright,” shook Stede. “I guess we’ll go and make this happen, then.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” barked Izzy as he lunged at the captain, grabbing his sides and pressing him back into the shelf. “This business gets taken care of right here and right now. The cat either watches or joins me. Your call.”

“Please don’t make me watch, Stede, if you think you can handle it,” Edward said shyly.

“Of course you can join in, Ed,” Stede gushed, looking past Izzy. He then turned his attention back to Izzy. “Happy to be here for whatever you may need.”

“Happy fucking Bonnet, eh? That’s where your trouble began. That smile. That Bonnet fucking smile.”

“Would it be better if I frowned?” Stede demonstrated, and Izzy did not react. “Perhaps something more neutral, a bit stoic with hints of fear?” Stede tried on a second face, and Izzy had had enough of his antics. Wordlessly, he started tickling Stede hard and fast. Stede was far too distracted by his face making to see it coming. “I actually quite think my noseahahahaha! Ihihi g-guess-”

“What?” Izzy teased with a roar.

“Guess you wehent with a smihihile!” Stede screamed. He turned his neck to face away, not that it would really matter when his ribs and stomach were the center of attention and his eyes were bolted shut. 

Izzy quickly made room for Edward, and with two men holding him there Stede was just about locked in place. He tried to sink to the floor, but Izzy and Edward only followed him there. He sat with legs outstretched and T-Rex arms barely positioning his elbows in self defense. He remained surprisingly still, a dead giveaway he was having a wonderful time, even if he was being quite fussy.

“He usually stay this still for you?” asked Izzy, adjusting his position to kneel on Stede’s leg and facing Edward more fully.

“Always. Deep down, it’s like he said. He really does love it.”

“All the noise he’s making you just almost couldn’t tell. Listen to him roar like a little bitch.”

“I know. Isn’t he cute?” 

Izzy crowed a big belly laugh in reply to Edward’s question, turning back to his original position and moving his hands upward. He noticed Edward moving around the side of Stede, but didn’t try to intentionally take that into account. He was determined to figure Stede out on his own, and he didn’t want to get too distracted from eating up Stede’s reactions to make that happen. Stede was essentially a giggly puddle at the mercy of four spidering, digging, prodding, and clawing hands, and Izzy studied his every squirm and plea with devotion.

“Ohohohoho I’m actually the cutest!” exclaimed Stede, his smile only widening as he fell to the side away from Edward and started rolling away from the wall. He made his way onto his stomach without the necessary momentum to turn any further, so he stopped in place. Edward knelt between him and the wall, Izzy next to him on his other side. Stede shook his head from side to side but said nothing.

Wordlessly, Edward stared for Izzy’s attention, eventually locking eyes with him. They paused for a moment, letting Stede catch his breath. Motioning with his eyes, Edward got Izzy to focus his visual attention on Stede’s shoulders. Edward hovered a hand above Stede’s left shoulder and waited for Izzy to figure out what to do with his right. Bobbing their heads, they counted silently to three and started up again together.

“Wahahahait!” cried Stede. He kicked his legs and huffed and puffed until Edward and Izzy stopped again just a few seconds later. There was a brief silence.

“Stede?” Edward asked flatly. Stede pursed his lips but did not immediately say anything.

“Captain?” tried Izzy, being met with more silence.

“Stede, you need to tell us what’s wrong.”

“Oh, uhm, well,” the captain began. He pushed himself with a wrist onto his side and fell onto his back. His face looked its absolute reddest.

“Your face is red, Captain,” observed Izzy, “and we haven’t even done anything severe yet. You need to call it quits or something?”

“Well, no,” Stede admitted, “I’m actually fine. That was just so unexpectedly coordinated and sudden and intense. It was actually quite-”

“Do you want us to keep going?” Edward pressed, cutting him off.

“That would be splendid, thank you.”

“Arms out, then,” Izzy ordered. Stede obeyed. “And take it with pride,” he added. He leaned over and pinned Stede’s wrist with one of his own, putting plenty of weight on it. Edward mirrored him, and with Stede pinned beneath them both they started again.

Stede immediately closed his eyes and threw his head all the way back. Edward and Izzy paused at the thudding sound it made with the floor, but a sharply giggled okay from Stede had them resuming as quickly as the thud had dissipated. He laughed and strained his arms, but they would not budge from beneath those of his comrades.

“Damn ihihihit!” he squealed, “this is a mohohost unusual position to beheheehe in!”

“Mine too, be sure,” sighed Lucius. Izzy paid him no attention, but Edward looked up at him and cocked his gaze. Lowing his tone, Lucius spoke to Edward directly. “I’m just gonna,” he trailed off, shaking an open-palmed hand in the direction of the nearby stairs and shrinking his posture. With an ugly, forced smile he stepped over Stede and made himself gone, perhaps about to go tell someone what he saw. Perhaps not.

Edward turned back to Stede, who didn’t seem to notice the presence of his scribe. His eyes were still shut with a stupidly giddy smile spread across his entire face. Stede was really having a time with his two ticklers. Edward took his hands away for a moment. With his left hand, he caressed Stede’s cheek. Stede opened his eyes and looked at him.

“You’re doing so good right now,” Edward scruffed. Stede smiled.

“I think he can manage a little better for longer,” Izzy insinuated. Stede’s smile turned to fear, to panic, to arousal, and back to a bigger smile, a bead of sweat making its way down the side of his face.

“Only if he’s up to it.” Edward was firm.

“Please,” said Stede. His voice was soft and whiny, as if there was no thought in the world worse than having to leave his ticklish predicament behind.

“See? He wants us to push him to be good, isn’t that right, boy?” Izzy cooed.

“Yes! Goodness, Izzy, fuck!” Stede sputtered. He couldn’t manage much more than that, instead grimacing silently as if to invite the tickling to resume.

Edward immediately started up again. He kept one hand on Stede’s adorable face. This time firmer, as if to keep his gaze fixed on Izzy. His other hand started to explore Stede’s stomach with a walking tap, probing a minefield of spots and watching Stede’s face. He walked his hand higher and higher with his arm until he was almost to Stede’s chest, where he saw an inviting twitch in Stede’s neck. He stopped his hand there and rotated it slightly, pinching at about that height along Stede’s side.

Stede thrashed in place as Edward did so, and he screamed. He screamed as if there was no thought in the world worse than staying in his ticklish predicament. But a signal in the back of his mind forced him to pause and realize he liked it. He only cried out for the torment to continue.

Izzy kept his hands in Stede’s armpits. He had a lot of fun with lighter techniques while Edward did his thing with his sides. Stede managed to stay still enough to keep his arms most of the way outstretched on his own. Izzy drummed his fingers up and down the soft, taut patches of skin, occasionally stopping to blow on Stede’s neck or scratch the exposed piece of his shoulder with his beard. 

“Thahahahat’s a little fohohorward of you,” suggested Stede as Izzy’s beard and breath lingered longer and longer there as the minutes snowballed by.

“Nonsense, Captain, I’m on a mission with this little game,” deflected Izzy. Stede just kept on laughing, but Izzy finally convinced him to open his eyes. Immediate eye contact. “There you are, boy. How do you feel?”

“Nehehevahar bett-ter!” struggled Stede, maintaining eye contact but blinking rapidly at the flood of sensation as Izzy changed his technique to mirror Edward’s death spot squeezes on the other side.

“Tell me how you really feel. Don’t hold yourself back,” Izzy commanded.

“Ehehehed,” laughed Stede.

“Hmmn?” Edward growled with a moderately horny squint back at the captain.

“I’m feheeling quihihite aroused,” reported Stede matter-of-factly, save for the peals of ticklish laughter trying their best to interrupt him. Edward leaned in and kissed Stede, letting go with his tickling hand and straddling Stede more fully.

His leg came to rest on Izzy’s hand, which his old first mate quickly retracted. Stede seemed to quickly shake a relaxation through his body, but hesitated before lowering his shoulders. Izzy wondered whether it was some kind of signal or not.

“Uh, Captain, you need something there?” Izzy asked shyly.

Edward’s mouth stole whatever reply Stede seemed to have no mind to attempt to formulate. They kept kissing there. It was clear their love was just as passionate as it had ever been. Izzy started to understand why these two had done the things they had done to themselves for one another. He wondered if he should start applauding their milestones and loosen up around the ship. He started to get the sense that the tickling scene was over, even if he figured he failed to make his larger point.

“Guess I’ll leave you lovebirds to it, then. I’m not ready to get that involved with a couple of pervert freaks that outrank me.” Izzy paused, trying to find more words. “Well, the captain and his kitten,” he clarified. “You’re cute with that bell, Edward,” he said under his breath, rolling his eyes a bit. With that, he started to walk away, back to his usual place. He traversed some stairs and a couple of corners. He was almost there.

Turning another corner, Izzy felt he was finally far enough away. He stopped for a moment to listen for nearby speech or footsteps. He sat and faced the ocean by himself, solitary in the position where Edward found him earlier in the day. And he let his guard down. Nobody had to know the effect his little torture scene had on him, and so he decided to let it show just a bit. The experience he just created for himself, it wasn’t another laceration of blackness across his wizened heart. It was pure and fun and joyful and a little arousing. 

He took a deep breath in through his nose, and he let it out through a big smile. A picture of Edward straddling Stede formed in his head. He rotated the picture before turning on time, inserting himself in the fantasy image and joining Edward, adding two more hands to the fray. In his mind, he smiled at Edward and Stede there. In reality, he sat there smiling at the ocean. The sun was sinking, and his heart was calm.

[wanderingrain]

Blogging through Till the World Ends Episode 3

Every time they show me a wide shot of this apartment I can't help but think about TharnType. I'm sorry.

Ew what are the hets doing here? Also where is this gang holed up that they're still here?

Lol not them arguing over who gets to kill Art.

No it's 4am and the way I just screeched!! The fake blood! Golf just killed a man with a lichen knife. Why are you dropping the knife? Did Art just kill bubblegum girl? They've both gone feral!

At least Golf seems to be traumatized after killing someone now cause I thought for a minute we were gonna breeze right past that.

Major props to Art's actor for just straight up sobbing like that.

Once again Golf showing his obsessive tendencies. He's known this boy for three days and is unhealthily attached. I would normally wave it off as "just one of those tv show things" but they said he only knew his girlfriend for a week and was overpossessive of her too. Seems like a pattern to me.

I hope you're gonna turn more lights on before you try and stitch him up.

Nope we're doing this in the semi-dark.

Art's face I can't

Babes you can barely handle him touching the wound with a cotton ball and you're asking him to sew it up? You know you're gonna need to hold still for that right? Maybe we should break out the drinking alcohol.

Wow i really don't need these sound effects thanks.

Oh good it's over.

Wait shower? After you just got stitches? Wait.

Wow this bed is huge.

Golf already looks so in love. I love how Art is clutching the blanket to his chest lol

ugh I'm so soft for hand holding. I love how quietly they're talking. I love how the camera doesn't want to focus on them lol

Babes this is the second time he's called you cute actually.

The way Art looks so scandalized from being called cute!

Oh so it's more than just a 2 person pattern.

I love that Art is just casually playing with Golf's fingers as they talk. We need more casual touches like this where the touch isn't the focal point of the scene.

Not the instrumental Christmas music again! Why Thailand why?

The way Art's hand is fully resting over Golf's now while he's trying to comfort him. The way they didn't make a big deal about it and they're just allowed to touch each other casually.

Both of these boys are good actors. The emotion, the body language. Good job boys.

I'm not sure I believe Art would really leave the apartment again after what just happened but I'm willing to suspend my disbelief.

🤣🤣🤣 Not Bubblegum gang girl still laying on the ground! Guess she's alive then. Didn't expect to be getting her pov.

Shut up Art! Do you want to alert Bubblegum to your presence? If you get taken hostage by the same girl twice in 24 hours I swear...

Ohhh is he about to remember? Nope nevermind.

Oh good Bubblegum's got his wallet.

Breakfast on the- why would you leave the apartment? How do you know the roof is safe? Ya'll literally almost died less than 12 hours ago in this apartment complex and now you want to go up to the roof?! Are you inane?

WOAH OK that's a lot

Anybody else feel weird about bubblegum touching him when he's still all sweaty from sex?

Is he not a new recruit after all? Then why were they trying to pressure him into killing someone in the beginning?

Honestly this gang doesn't scare me so I don't really feel much about them having Golf's picture. Lol.

If Golf and Art would just stay locked up in the apartment the gang would probably never find them unless they went door to door kicking in doors. So I'm sure some sort of shenanigans will ensue to make sure our main characters are dumb enough to expose themselves. I'm betting that Art remembers what happened and tries to run away for the third time and gets caught by bubblegum and she uses him to lure Golf out.

I still think one of the gang members is probably Art's brother because that's usually how these things work. Or maybe Golf's brother has something to do with the gang. Either way I'm sure they'll be saved by some kind of brotherly intervention.

On to episode 4

[madaboutmunson]

Don't Stand So Close To Me - Part 13 - Perfect Day

Part 12 | Part 14 | Chapter list | Eddie Munson Fanfiction Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, crude humour, romance, angst, food, bullying

Summary: Its Eddie and Lyra’s first official day together. Eddie has the plot, but Lyra has to keep it on the rails.

Word Count: 7.4K

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Eddie's alarm beeps, but he's already been lying awake for at least an hour thinking about this past week, but mostly last night. He still had so much he wanted to ask her, but he didn't want to come across as too much.

He'd been reading over the approximate outline for tonight's Hellfire session, which made him a little nervous. Yesterday at lunchtime, when he'd invited her to a game, she'd just been Lyra, someone who needed some help navigating the Hellmouth that is Hawkins High, but now? Now she was Lyra, someone he couldn't wait to be that close to again. The way she pulled him into her just so she could lay against him made him feel so wanted. Not just in the usual lustful way a taster of an intimacy he also craved. A gentle one. A protective one.

Eddie checks over his extra bag for Hellfire again, ensuring he's covered for as many different scenarios as possible. Whatever he had planned and expected to happen during the game rarely did. A table full of teenage variables would do that to a plan. He shakes his head and smiles, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He was listening to the story as it unfolded as much as anyone else at the table. The difference was he had to wrangle it to hit the main beats of the plot here and there and make sure the challenges weren't so imbalanced it would wipe out the party or give them a chance to run away.

Eddie zips up the huge second bag and heads out of his room to the bathroom.

"Hey, son", a tired voice rings out from the living room.

Eddie looks towards the voice of Uncle Wayne on his camp bed covered in blankets. He had probably only intended a greeting exchange, but Eddie decides to rip off the band-aid.

Eddie leans his batman pyjama-ed self against the wall outside the bathroom with his arms folded, "So...I'm...Me and Lyra, we're like a thing now" he points a finger at Wayne before he can open his mouth, "I will allow you to gloat, provided you help me because I'm pretty nervous about it all. It's gonna be different, I think" Eddie looks at Wayne while talking but finishes with a look to the floor and a little smile.

"Different as in. I might actually get to meet her on purpose?" Wayne says with surprise sitting up.

Eddie laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, "I mean, sure, if you want to, but there are some things you should probably know first."

Wayne's expression turns from surprise to concern as he moves from his bed to the comforts of his armchair, lighting a cigarette, "Go on then", he waves Eddie on to continue.

Eddie uses his shoulder to push himself up from the wall, his hands tucked under his arms on either side of his chest. His eyes wander around the kitchen and living room as he paces towards Wayne slowly, "So, she's very, very rich. I had a tour of her house, and it is out of this world, honestly," Eddie says, still somewhat in disbelief himself.

"Well, I kinda guessed that much", Wayne huffs a little, "Made you feel small, did it?"

"You know, at first, yeah, it did, but then I think she was kind of embarrassed about it almost?" He speaks slowly and deliberately, "Like she was trying to get it out of the way. When she showed me around, she was in a hurry, but if I asked anything, she'd stop and take time to tell me all about it. I saw the sewing room, and we played music together and ate dinner. It was...um...nice, you know? Which was good, considering how badly things had been going before we got there."

Wayne raises an eyebrow at Eddie, and in response, Eddie raises his hands, "For a change, not completely my fault. Her ex turned up, and when I tell you he's a piece of shit, I mean that objectively."

"Eddie, please don't tell me you're gonna get into trouble over some girl. You don't need that. We don't need that," Wayne says in an exasperated tone, slightly pleading.

"I swear, not my intention at all, sir. She asked him to leave, but he wouldn't. So I asked, and he wouldn't. Then he put his hands on her, and I moved her out of the way." He looks at the floor sadly and then back up at Wayne, "You know I can't stand by and watch that happen. Not again"

Wayne gets up from his chair, puts his hand on Eddie's shoulder and looks him in the eyes, "That wasn't your fault, ok? Nothing you could do back then, alright?" Wayne says carefully, "I understand why you stepped in for Lyra, but be careful is all I'm asking. Be smart, Eddie."

"I hear ya." Eddie nods and then changes the subject, "She's not allowed back there until further notice now anyway. So yeah, I just wanted to let you know that...A few of us will be going there after Hellfire Club tonight."

Wayne smiles proudly at Eddie, "I'm here for you, whatever you need. So she's a musician, is she?"

"Well, she kept up with me, but on the piano." Eddie smiles back.

Wayne makes an agreeable grumble, "Hmmm, anything else you two have in common?"

"So far?" Eddie starts wistfully, making Wayne laugh and shake his head. "We both play musical instruments, we both really like music, we like our safety foods, we both like fantasy books, we both like the theatre, we both get animated about our special interests, we both don't have great relationship track records, um...we've both got big dreams."

"Honestly, for a so far, I was expecting something like we both got heads, so I'd say that's a pretty good list. I can't see what you're gonna need my help with, son. You do just fine on your own, well, in your own way." Wayne smiles.

"Like I said, it's different this time," Eddie says, a little frustrated he can't articulate what he means precisely because, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't exactly sure either, "I want it to stay different too" he tries and looks to his uncle for assistance.

"Oh, I see." Wayne nods his head and smiles, "You can't force love, Eddie. If it's meant to happen, it'll happen."

Eddie half smiles in appreciation for Wayne helping him decipher his thoughts, "I know, and for all its shit start, I'm not sure if that will happen either. We've agreed on some things...things I haven't had before or at least haven't had it explicitly said"

"What things?" Wayne asks, folding his arms slowly.

"That me and Lyra are a thing. It's exclusive, and it's not a secret" Eddie looks to his uncle, whose arms, now unfolded, drop to his hips and gives Eddie a sympathetic look.

"Now, listen to me good. It's great you talked about them things, ok. But do not let 'em make you stick around too long in something not meant for you, you hear me? I'm not saying this girl is or isn't right for you. I just want you to know that out there, lots of people want those things, Eddie. You've just not had the best run or the best role models either" Wayne's voice cracks a little in that last part, so Eddie rushes to make it ok again.

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to ask ahead of time, you know. If I mess up, which I probably will. Also, now you know and seem ok with it, I'd like her to visit sometime. Maybe I could make that roast venison you like after a hunt? We could all eat together?" Eddie twists his rings around his fingers, worried Wayne wouldn't want someone like Lyra here. Wayne had his own Munson doctrine on the wealthy, privileged people of the world.

"You wanna bring her here? To the trailer park?!" Wayne asks, not so much in anger but in surprise.

Eddie shrugs, "I mean, yeah, I've been to her house, and it's nice and all, but I feel I can be more myself here. Plus, it would be good for me to hear what you think of her," Eddie enthuses.

"Eddie, it doesn't matter what I-" Wayne starts to say, but he gets cut off.

"What you think about her means a lot to me," he says genuinely before an impish grin spreads across his face, "But will I listen? Hmmm, probably not. It's not like your right about everything. Your taste in music is abysmal."

Wayne laughs, nodding, seeing his nephew return to his usual mischievous self. He heads back to bed whilst Eddie gets ready for school.

Eddie just can't help himself this morning. He is cleaning and preening like a man possessed. Showered and dried. Not a hair out of place, taming a few curls and waves individually, scrunching at his crown to give it that little bit of volume. Face and neck cleanly shaven and scented. Teeth scrubbed, flossed and examined. Fresh, well-fitted hellfire shirt from the box, lucky boxers, lucky Garfield socks, jeans, leather, vest, and finally, his belt and chained wallet.

He strums his fingers over the strings of his BC Rich Warlock guitar and caresses the paintwork on its body. "Wish me luck today, sweetheart", he says before taking a last look in the mirror.

"It's a new day, Eddie. You got this." He says to his reflection, tugging his vest into place before finally turning around, picking up his bags and heading to the van.

Eddie reaches for the cassette box under the passenger seat and rifles through his mood enhancers. All with no tracklisting, just a secret code for Eddie, so he knew what each of them helped with.

His ocean sound tapes had a flat horizontal line for calm. For slowing down, an arrow pointing down. For chilling out due to some herbal assistance, a down arrow with wiggly lines on either side. There were tapes for romance, anger, happiness, sadness, and finally, the one he wanted, the up arrow with tyre tracks next to it. He fires up the van, slams in the cassette, and accelerates out of the trailer park to Black Sabbath's Turn Up The Night.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lyra had been standing at Phil's wall of security monitors for about an hour, ready to go. Eddie wasn't late, not by a long shot. She just couldn't sleep any longer. The excitement bubbling up inside her had just been unbearable.

Chef had asked her to leave the kitchen area due to asking so many questions and scared him so severely when peering over his shoulder he nearly cut his finger. However, she managed to negotiate an extra lunch from him and the ingredients for the two sauces from yesterday.

She'd then moved around the house, trying to find the best view up the road to the house. Phil had caught her and offered her a sneak peek at the security office if she would just stop bustling around for a bit.

Lyra has had her eyes moving between the same two monitors for the past sixty minutes, but they honestly felt like decades, just watching an empty tree-lined road.

She checks over her new outfit, straight-leg blue jeans, a mustard cropped sweater and a black bomber jacket waiting on the back of the chair. She'd ensured the sweater was demure enough for her to be comfortable at school. So she wouldn't have her midriff on display all day. Accessories with the new white sneakers, her handmade mustard fabric-covered earrings, and a spray of her most expensive perfume Coco.

She'd tried to keep her makeup and hair as normal as possible, but she had spent twice as much time trying to make an effort look effortless. But after yesterday, lipstick was off the table, just some lip balm in its place. She'd even painted her nails, which was somewhat challenging until Phil helped her out.

Eventually, the van comes into view at a relatively slow pace, Lyra notes. She throws her coat on and hurtles towards the front door. She comes to an abrupt stop as Phil stops her in her tracks. She frowns. Phil smiles, counts down from 3 on his fingers and then steps away. Only for the doorbell to chime, he waves her towards it.

She opens the door, and it frames him perfectly. He looked so good. His face was soft as his decadent chocolate eyes trailed over her. As the door swung in, the aroma that hit her nearly knocked her clean onto her backside. His usual light-sweetened tobacco aroma, but also leather, pine and some sort of cologne. Eddie had successfully forced two of Lyra's senses into submission.

And then he went for the third, "Well, I was gonna wish you good morning, but I think I'm getting all the good this morning has to offer", he purrs as he scans her over again, "but I digress." he gestures over to his van.

As she steps out the door, she feels her backpack slip off her shoulder, and something else appears in its place. Eddie's hand at the small of her back. Four, she thinks. Lyra smiles hugely as she notices Eddie sling her bag over his shoulder, "It was in my way", he says, struggling to repress his grin.

He opens the passenger door for Lyra and offers his hand to help her inside. Once on the seat, she looks back to him for her bag, but he's just staring up at her, eyes twinkling, a gentle but wide closed-mouth smile on his face.

She can't help but mirror him. The happiness she was feeling, mixed with nervous energy, all that waiting was over, and the butterflies in her tummy were already at maximum flutter.

"I can take that now," she says, leaning down to take the bag from him.

Eddie slowly blinks once and then shakes his head, "Yeah, sure." He hands the bag up to her and closes the door before going back to his side of the van and hopping in.

"You look great," they say in almost perfect unison, which causes them both to laugh. Then, Eddie starts up the van, and the cassette tape kicks in, the loudness of which makes Lyra pin herself back into her seat.

Eddie chuckles at her reaction and turns it down.

"Well, I suppose that's one way to wake up in the morning", she laughs, now over her initial shock.

"I can always put the radio on instead", Eddie offers kindly.

"Absolutely not!" Lyra blurts out.

Eddie raises his eyebrows and quickly looks at her before looking back at the road, "Ok, that was a sudden reaction. You're gonna have to tell me why."

Lyra adjusts in her seat to present her case. "Ok, well, first of all, it would be nice to hear what you like to listen to. Secondly, I know it's their job, but I mostly loathe all the talking on the radio, especially when-"

"-they talk over the song", Eddie joins in with the last bit of Lyra's sentence.

"Is that a 'you agree' joining in or 'you are so used to hearing that argument' joining in?" Lyra asks.

"I...wholeheartedly agree," he says, pausing for emphasis. Lyra couldn't decide if Eddie was just acting up generally or purposefully finding all manner of ways to charm her.

"You excited for today?" Lyra says brightly and quickly clarifies, "For the game, I mean."

"Every week, but this one might be a little more difficult than others," Lyra notices. Eddie runs his tongue along his bottom lip. She rustles in her bag, pulls out her mint chocolate lip balm and offers it over.

Eddie smiles, "Whilst that's very thoughtful, my hands are kinda busy driving at the moment."

"Of course...right," Lyra says, feeling a little dumb and putting it back in her pocket.

Eddie dramatically sighs, "Buuuuut, your hands aren't busy, right?" Lyra sees an impish smirk appear on his face that is totally infectious, and she does not need to be invited twice to get in his space. She shuffles over the best she can, leaning over the gap between them, wielding the lip balm.

It's awkward, but it's fun. Eddie pouts out his lips like a little fish, making Lyra giggle, "Not like that, relax your mouth, goofball" Eddie overly slackens his mouth and makes a zombie-type sound, making her giggle again, "This must be what those makeup women felt like with me in the chair".

Lyra takes matters into her own hands and, placing her thumb on one side of his mouth, and her finger on the other, manages to form a regular Eddie mouth, which she swipes the lip balm across gently, "There you go. All done" she uses her thumb to remove any excess from around his mouth. At least that is what she has set out to do, but due to how soft his skin feels, her motion slows, and her stare intensifies for maybe slightly too long. Eddie looks at her from the corner of his eye for a split second. It pulls her out of her trance and back into her own seat.

"Are you wearing this one too?" Eddie asks, rubbing his lips together.

"Yeah, why do you ask?" Lyra asks, a little puzzled.

There is a small silence, and Lyra can see Eddie's tongue poking out, resting against his top lip, in some sort of concentrated decision-making.

"How about a little answer trade? I'll answer your question if you answer mine?" Eddie suggests, his fingers release and then wrap around the steering wheel again.

"You can ask me whatever you like, Eddie. You don't need to trade" Lyra smiles over at him.

Eddie reaches his hand out to hold hers, "I guess I kinda knew that already. I just thought if it was a deal, you couldn't wiggle out of the answer."

"And I thought your hands were busy driving" Lyra half smiles.

"They were...at the time...besides...you set me up. I had an opportunity to get you over here, and you think I was just gonna wave at that opportunity as it passed me by?!" Eddie says with fake alarm.

"You can just ask, you know? Not everything has to be a trick, Eddie," Lyra laughs.

"Yeah, but it's so much more fun that way. But you know, now you've said it, I might just do that...at some point...maybe," He says, teasing.

Lyra wiggles her fingers in-between Eddie's and asks, "Are you gonna answer the question then?"

"Well," Eddie says, as he reruns his tongue along his lip and flicks his hair back, "I just wondered if it was the same as yours because if it was, then this is what your lips taste like" Eddie gives a quick side glance at Lyra for her reaction.

It has suddenly got a lot warmer in the van, well, at least to Lyra, anyway.

Jesus Christ. This guy. Today was a five senses assault. She absolutely did not know where to look right now, but naturally, her eyes gave her away and were drawn immediately to his mouth.

They hadn't even made it to school. No, it was worse than that. They hadn't even picked up Kevin. How was she going to get through today, and then a whole evening, without grabbing and smooching him into oblivion?

She attempts a change of subject, "So er..." Her voice is much too high from nervousness, making Eddie grin, and she clears her throat, "Yeah, what was your question?"

Lyra observes Eddie running his thumb across one of his rings, twisting it around as it rested on the steering wheel, "So in scoops yesterday, you said something, and I was wondering if you said it because you were trying to make that asshole feel like shit, which is too good for him by the way! Or if you meant it?"

Lyra wracks her brain. She said many things to Curt yesterday, some things she might live to regret, but it was done now, "What exactly did I say?"

"You said," Eddie clears his throat, "about me, I think...you said...He's a hundred times the man you'll ever be in your wildest dreams." He sounded nervous to ask.

"Of course, I meant that. A pretty bold thing to say about someone standing right next to me, especially if I didn't mean it." Lyra thinks for a moment, "It was just a comparison, Eddie. You don't need to pressure yourself to live up to that or anything. That isn't why I said it. You're great, just the way you are. I just didn't like that he thought he was better than you. He isn't. Not in any way."

Eddie wiggles in his seat and adjusts his fingers between hers with excitable energy, "Great, huh?" He asks.

A little mischief infects Lyra'a thoughts, and she leans back into Eddie's space, tucks some hair behind his ear, and whispers in it, "The greatest" she leans back into her seat and giggles at Eddie's wide eyes.

Eddie nods a few times and taps the steering wheel, "Oh, I see how it is now. Well, you just remember you started this"

"Me???!! I didn't start this. You did!!! Arriving at my house like all this, you started it," she gestures at him with her free hand agast.

She can hardly believe those words left her mouth and swallows hard. He's probably gonna start to realise what a weirdo she is. She shuts up really quickly and leaves a small silence.

Eddie's eyebrows are raised in surprise, "Lyra! I can't believe you are insinuating that I would purposefully do something like that to you." He says in false astonishment, "This is just, you know, standard me. You've just seen me through different eyes, is all" he shrugs.

Lyra thinks for a moment he was probably right. That can happen. Like the minute you fall out with someone, everything they do is a new pet peeve. So it must work the other way too.

"I guess that could be true, but I could have sworn something was a little different at least, but you know. Like you enhanced your beauty, you know?" she shrugs and looks out the window as more houses come into view.

"Beauty?" Eddie asks gently, a slight sideways glance at Lyra.

Lyra scoffs, "As if you didn't know, Eddie. Look at you. Jesus!"

"Know what?" Eddie teases.

"Urgh, fine. I'll say it." Lyra huffs and turns to Eddie, "You are very beautiful, Eddie. With your molten chocolate eyes, eyelashes I cannot recreate without the aid of the pharmaceutical industry, a jawline I could probably do architectural drawings with, perfect little pout and sweet little nose. Beautiful. There I said it. Ok?"

There is silence from Eddie, but Lyra notices he blushes, "Oh great, I guess we can add that to the list now, then too!" She says, pretending to be annoyed, "Is extremely cute because they blush when complimented."

Eddie mumbles something as they pause at the train crossing.

"What did you say?" Lyra asks. Eddie replies, but the passing train drowns him out.

Lyra frowns and shouts, "I can't hear you over the train!!"

"I SAID I COULD KISS YOU RIGHT...now..." Eddie shouts back, but the train noise dies down pretty much as soon as he starts shouting.

"You wanna kiss me?" Lyra asks coyly.

"Well, yes...of course...I-" Eddie starts to say nervously.

BEEP BEEP "Move along the show, Romeo!!" Someone shouts from the traffic behind.

Eddie blushes again, flips the bird out of the window back at the people behind him, and continues to Kevin's.

Eddie clears his throat, "So, yes, I do wanna do that, kiss you, I mean."

Lyra's brain goes into total panic stations. It was gonna happen. Fucking hell. Oh my god. Say something, Lyra! Jesus!!

"So why don't you then?" She asks, not in a seductive way, just in the tone of a genuine question.

"Well...I...um..ok, so, I wanna, but I'm not gonna", Eddie says awkwardly.

Lyra's instinct is to throw a "Why?" at him or take action herself, but she remembered what Eddie said about being the first person to ask to touch him. So she decided to try and respect his boundaries but simultaneously figure out what he meant.

"Well, ok, but just so I know, do you mean like never?" Lyra asks carefully.

Eddie laughs, "No, I don't mean never, just you know, not on the school run, on our way to pick up Kevin, that's all" he sighs, "But now I have to know what if I did mean never. Would that have been it? Goodbye, Eddie!" He laughs as he parks the van at the side of the road.

"Of course not!! Maybe you just didn't want to do that, and you know, that's fine. Like you said, we don't have to do anything we don't want to do, right?" Lyra explains

Lyra feels Eddie squeeze her hand, "Right", Eddie parks up the van, "You're kinda sweet, did you know that?"

Lyra just smiles back at him.

"You aren't gonna go get Kevin?" Lyra asks, still staring at him.

"No. Kevin said in no uncertain terms that I was to not knock on his door. His Dad is a bit, um, let's just say he's not very liberal. Kevin was sure my whole look would definitely prevent him from attending Hellfire. So it's better if I just-" Eddie raises his hand to beep the van's horn, and Lyra stops him.

"Maybe I could go get him?" Lyra offers, "If he doesn't take too kindly to clothing, he'll probably lose his mind about you making a lot of noise outside his house."

Lyra lets go of Eddie's hand and heads to the front door. She brushes down her clothes and rings the doorbell.

From inside the house, Lyra can hear a lot of yelling, but it's muffled until it gets closer. "KEVIN! STOP FUCKING AROUND WITH YOUR HAIR AND GET DOWN HERE, NOW!" Then at a lower volume, "Maybe if he wasn't so busy flouncing around the place, he could answer the goddamn door himself!" Then a series of locks and bolts.

The door opens to a short, balding man in a suit minus the blazer, a deep frown on his face greets Lyra, but it quickly melts away.

"Well, hello. I was expecting one of my son's friends, sorry about all that. Can I help you miss?" He says in a softer tone leaning against the door frame.

Lyra gives a closed mouth smile back, "Hi, I'm Lyra. I am Kevin's friend. w - I've come to pick him up for school."

"Well, this is a surprise" he looks Lyra up and down before turning back to the staircase, "Kevin!! Get your ass down here. There's a girl for ya."

He turns back to Lyra, "You know I was beginning to lose all hope that he might have an interest in girls."

Lyra just smiles awkwardly. Thankfully Kevin saves her from further conversation.

"Oh hey, Lyra. Sorry, I'm late. I was going to meet you out front, but I couldn't tame this cowlick," Kevin says, looking awkwardly between his Dad and Lyra.

"Not to worry. You all ready to go?" Lyra gives Kevin a big genuine smile.

"He sure is", his Dad answers for him and shoves him into Lyra. Lyra stumbles back a little, feigns a giggle, and starts walking to the van.

Under his breath, with their backs to the front door that has just been slammed, Kevin says, "Mortifying, honestly. I'm so sorry you had to converse with that troglodyte. Are you ok?"

"Me, I'm fine, are you ok? He doesn't seem the easiest to live with," Lyra says, opening the van door for Kevin and hopping in the front herself.

Kevin plugs his seat belt in. "Morning, Eddie." He says quickly before turning back to Lyra, "Honestly, he's the worst, but he's kind of all I've got since mom passed, and I'm all he's got too. Besides, I don't have to engage him too much. In the evening, he's either out or unconscious."

"Yeah, well, buddy, tonight it's Hellfire, baby! So you don't need to worry about the ogre in your house when you'll be fighting for your life against some epic monsters later," Eddie says with a big smile, wiggling his eyebrows at Kevin in the mirror.

Lyra hears Kevin laugh and sends Eddie a massive smile of admiration. He catches it out of the corner of his eye and smacks his lips. "Mmmm", before chuckling to himself and reaching for Lyra's hand again.

"Um...excuse me...what in the fresh hell is going on here in this van?" Kevin asks in disbelief.

"Er..." Lyra starts, but Eddie interrupts with a few tuts.

"He's my friend. Thank you, Lyra. I'll handle this." Eddie holds their joined hands aloft so Kevin can see, "Lyra and I are dating."

Lyra smiles bashfully out of the window.

"How many prices did the poor girl have to pay to join this club, Eddie? Are you feeling ok, Lyra? Blink thrice if you need help," Kevin teases.

"Oh ha-ha, hilarious, Kevin. I like to believe she considers this a bonus, actually," Eddie retorts.

"What was that? Bogus?" Kevin laughs, and Eddie flips him the bird with their joined hands.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. Though just so I'm clear, this is a proper, official thing?" Kevin asks genuinely.

"It sure is", Eddie answers with a big grin shaking his hair.

Kevin's hand comes forward and pats Eddie's shoulder. They don't say anything else about it the whole ride to school. It's mainly Eddie dropping hints about the game later or past retelling games they've played that Lyra might need to know about for tonight.

They pull up in the school parking lot and leave the van waiting for the others to show up. Lyra notices Eddie look at the doors to the school, and he starts to get fidgety. Maybe he was nervous about going in there today? Perhaps he wasn't as ready to be as not secret as he thought he was? The truth was Lyra was a little nervous too. In the real world, it wasn't an issue, but in there, in high school? That might be a whole other obstacle course.

Lyra moves closer to Eddie and gently puts her hand on his back, speaking quietly, "Hey, I will not be offended in any way if you don't want to be on show in there. Remember, we don't have to do anything we don't want to do?"

Eddie looks bewildered and laughs, "Are you kidding me? I'm not worried. I can't fucking wait!" He grabs both of her hands and crosses one set of their linked hands around her in a twirl until her back is against his chest and their arms are crossed in front of her.

Eddie leans his chin on Lyra's shoulder, "I'm gonna step through those doors with you on my arm. We're gonna flirt outrageously with one another in front of your locker, then maybe my locker. Then I guess we oughta go to a class or two. Then lunch, where your gonna feed me your fancy food like I'm a goddamn Roman emperor. Then blah blah class blah. Oooh, and then your gonna be in my domain. I'll weave you a tale of adventure so enthralling you'll be completely obsessed with me by the end of it. Even though it's going to be sooo fuckin' distracting that you're gonna be sitting right there the whole time and I'm gonna have to concentrate on a bunch of other little hellions. Then we'll pack up and head to yours" he smiles and gives a little shrug.

Lyra definitely heard everything Eddie said. He was saying it right next to her ear, but his being so close that she could smell the lip balm on him mixing with his already intoxicating mixture of aromas made her head spin. Also, team that with him being so close and his arms wrapped around her. Lyra was practically in heaven. Eventually, she forms a sentence, "Sounds like you've really thought this through. Also, sounds like I'm gonna have to share you all day."

Eddie lets out a little dorky giggle, "Want me all to yourself aga-" he starts before he is interrupted by a wolf whistle.

Lyra looks to the noise and sees the rest of Hellfire being led by Gareth, "Noise privileges are back in effect! Ah, good, she's restrained" Gareth laughs and steps towards Lyra with his eyes shut tight and lips puckered, only to receive a hard flick in the middle of his forehead from Eddie.

Eddie releases Lyra's hands but keeps one arm around her so he's still pulling her tight against him, "Sorry buddy, you're too late. She is totally into me and has been for months" Lyra rolls her eyes and laughs.

Clara lowers her book, "I left you alone for a few hours?? I knew it would happen eventually, but that was quicker than I had expected. I still win, though. Guys, pay up."

Lyra is shocked and looks at Eddie, but he's equally surprised, "Wait, you all thought we were gonna get together?" Lyra asks, thinking Eddie is absolutely right. The pair of them were indeed the last to realise.

"No, well, I did. I bet these guys that Eddie would find a...how can I put this... a stable relationship...within a month. They nearly laughed me out of the car. Fortunately, they were all wrong, and I win" the guys all hand over quite a few dollars each. Clara looks pleased.

"It's not fair. Clearly, you had insider information Clara." Gareth whines, begrudgingly handing over the money.

Clara laughs long and loud, "I made this bet on Tuesday morning before school. I had the same thing you all have. Fucking eyes, alright?"

Lyra could not resist laughing at Clara, but it wasn't just because what she said was funny. Lyra looked around at the surrounding group and the great American smile exchange that was going on between Eddie and them right now. This little bunch of outcasts really cared about one another.

Etched on each of the faces she can see is a sort of proud happiness. Whenever they turn towards Eddie in conversation, they'll glance down at where his arm is around her, smile at her and then look back to Eddie, who is still merrily chatting away about the percentage of spell chances or why power chords are great but sometimes it's nice to branch out.

The conversation gets louder and more animated, but Eddie's one arm still hasn't moved. Then, finally, he says quietly so only she can hear, "You know, you didn't mention your ideas for today, Lyra."

"Well, that's because someone already beat me to it," Lyra says quietly as she turns to him, looks up into his eyes, and runs her hand up the inside of the sleeve of his leather jacket to caress the arm holding her.

Eddie tilts his head and holds her gaze, "You know, I don't think I'm gonna be able to concentrate on a single thing in class today." He utters softly.

"Good", Lyra jokes.

Eddie's eyes go wide with disbelief, "Good?! Aren't you supposed to say something like, "Eddie, you should really pay attention in class. It's important" ?"

Lyra softly puts her hands on either side of his face and squeezes his cheeks towards one another, saying, "Awww...I mean...I wanna...but I'm not gonna" Lyra giggles and releases his face.

Eddie pokes his tongue into the inside of his cheek and nods, realising he'd been got, "Mmhmm. Ok, ok. I see that phrase is gonna haunt me, huh?"

Lyra raises her eyebrows at Eddie in a very snooty way, "I can neither confirm nor deny that, at this time, Mr Munson."

Eddie grins, "I know you're teasing me about it now, but I think you're gonna be glad that it wasn't just random in the van" he looks very sure of himself.

Lyra can't help but marvel at him. A day ago, she would never have dreamed that Eddie would do anything as romantic as to plan a kiss, or at very least not take one when it was offered on a plate. She wondered what other weird and wonderful things she hadn't found out about him yet.

"Shall we?" Eddie offers her his hand, and he nods toward the school.

Lyra takes his hand and walks with him and the rest of Hellfire toward the school doors. Lyra feels her heartbeat pick up speed. She adjusts her grip on Eddie's hand and moves closer to him.

"Hey, don't worry. It's gonna be just like I said, ok?" Eddie smiles down at Lyra and walks her to her locker, which has been cleaned of graffiti.

There are a few passing glances here and there towards the two of them, but nothing worrisome.

"Sorry, I just got nervous. I...um...you know, haven't done this before in public," Lyra says quietly, gently swaying their hands and then holding them up to Eddie.

"That's not a problem. You don't need to apologise" Eddie gets a bit closer to whisper to her, "You know, I haven't either. Why do you think I'd given us so many plot points today?"

Then it all starts to make sense. Eddie was using his dungeon master skills to plan the day because that's the bit of his life he has the most control. He'd given Lyra the story and was surprised when she didn't want to deviate from his plan.

"Oh, I get it now!" A huge smile erupts across her face as she scoops Eddie's face in her hands, "How about just for today, I give the DM a break and just follow his story to the letter?"

"All of it?" He asks in hopeful surprise.

"All of it", she nods, her eyes searching his as they crease at the corners.

"Fuckin' Freaks", someone shouts over, Eddie turns towards the interruption, but Lyra holds his face firmly in place.

"All of it! No deviation. No one gets to spoil it for you, ok? Not on my watch," She says seriously.

Eddie's bottom lip pouts out for a moment before he tucks it back into his mouth. His eyes look a little watery, but he blinks a few times and takes a deep breath. Next, his hands find the sides of her waist, "You got everything you need from here?" Lyra nods, and that mischievous Munson grin appears again, "Right then, onto point two on the agenda".

Eddie picks Lyra up over his shoulder, and she scrambles to keep hold of her bag and books. Lyra is initially a little embarrassed being publicly carried around like this, but everyone else soon melts away, and it just feels like it's the two of them. There is an unbridled joy forming within Lyra that she can't remember the last time she felt. Her giggling starts quietly, and she tries to cover her mouth, but soon it's almost belly laughter. As Eddie lowers her back down to the floor, still in his arms, she wipes the tears of laughter away and notices he's laughing too. Intermittent laughs he's trying to hold behind his pleased smile, his eyes tracing over her face.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" He says. It's a phrase Lyra hasn't heard said in over six months, but the person, the delivery and the meaning are entirely different.

Lyra wasn't great at reading people, but when Eddie said it, she really felt it. It almost made her forget to breathe. How could someone as beautiful as he think that of her?

Lyra knew she wasn't conventionally pretty. She'd been called plain more times than she could count, even when she was made up. Her body didn't look like the cheerleaders' or the more popular girls at school, but as far as she could tell, Eddie meant it, and that was blowing her mind.

"You ok?" He says, a slight look of concern on his face.

"Yeah, I'm good" she smiles up at him and plays with the pins on his vest just to avoid his eyes for a few seconds, "What am I supposed to be doing now, flirting with you outrageously, was it?"

Eddie laughs, "Yep, I believe that's what the agenda said".

Lyra backs out of his arms and leans up against the locker next to his. She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks him up and down before finishing with some eye contact and saying, "Want me to help you with your locker?"

Eddie's eyebrows raise, "Oh, you're making fun, are you? That was not on the list, you know."

"I'm just showing you what I've learned about flirting from a grand master. Making fun appears to be very much part of it from my notes," Lyra laughs, hooking his chin between her fingers and wiggling it.

Surprisingly the following few classes flew by, with a small intermission of Eddie pretending he'd walked into the wrong class and sending her a wink before the teacher hurriedly ushered him out.

On her way to the cafeteria, Lyra sees Tabatha walking the other way. Sure she was still not ok with what she did, but she knew why now, and in all honesty, if Eddie became interested in some other girl in front of Lyra, on day one of this whole thing, Lyra would be pretty upset about that too, let alone however long they'd had together, even though it wasn't serious according to Eddie at least.

So when Tabatha knocks into Lyra's shoulder hard, she takes it and doesn't engage, either way, anger or submission.

A hand joins in to assist as she collects her things from the floor.

"She's a fucking bitch. More so lately," Clara says, handing Lyra one of her books.

Lyra shrugs, "You know, maybe she's just having a bad time?"

Clara stops mid-lunchbag handover, "On your worst day would you want to make someone cry, be painfully hurt, treat them like they were worthless?"

"I feel like I kind of already did that to her yesterday," Lyra says regretfully.

"That was one day, Lyra. Not for at least a whole year." Lyra stands up with her armfuls of items, and they exchange a knowing look.

"What she did to you was shitty, but it was one day, and you retaliated for one day. Imagine seeing that happen to someone you care about but slowly chipping away every day. They won't talk about it, they don't retaliate, they just absorb it, so you just have to stand by and watch them get slowly dragged down." Clara says quietly to Lyra, but her voice's anger is clear enough to detect.

Lyra feels a worry creep over her. The concern is selfish. Clearly, this relationship between Eddie and Tabatha had been going on for much longer than Lyra imagined. Another thing she couldn't compare to. Her stomach churned. It's just day one, she tried to tell herself.

"So I repeat, she's a fucking bitch." Then Clara looks Lyra directly in the eye, "And I hope you're not fucking bitch, part two, you hear me?" She says seriously.

Lyra nods urgently, "Yep, loud and clear. It's not my intention in any way. I swear it."

Clara smiles, "Good. I didn't think so. You seem sappy enough, but I thought I'd check. I'm just gonna go hand in this assignment, and I'll catch up with the rest of you."

Lyra nods and smiles back, heading towards the cafeteria, and heads towards a seat at the hellfire table next to Eddie.

"Ah, here she is!" Eddie springs out of his seat, clapping his hands together before pulling out a chair for Lyra and then quickly sitting back down while grabbing her hand and holding it atop the table.

"So what's on the menu today, my dear? Anything that needs a pre-warning?" He grins as Lyra pulls out a salad.

Eddie frowns, "Salad?"

Lyra nods and opens the container, "Just try some, and if you hate it, don't eat it, right?"

Eddie opens his mouth and waits. Lyra rolls her eyes but smiles, taking a fig from the salad and feeding it to him. His expression is a mixture, but it lands on pleased. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the rest of the table, possibly the cafeteria, who seem grossed out by the whole thing, making Lyra and Eddie laugh and play up to it more.

Talk turns to tonight's game, and Eddie suddenly looks concerned, "Wheres Clara? Ah, speak her name, and she shall appear."

Clara is speed walking toward the table and pretty much lifts Lyra out of her seat, "I need to talk to you in private about something very urgent and very girl related", she over emphasises.

Lyra doesn't have time to say anything before getting dragged out of the cafeteria. She looks back to see Eddie shrugging. "Clara! What the hell?"

Clara says nothing but keeps marching her down the hall and out to the parking lot. She gestures towards Eddie's van. Lyra lifts her eyes to it. A window is smashed, the tires slashed, and graffiti is all over the side facing them. 'Freak' in big letters, amongst some other horrible slurs.

"I told you she's a fucking bitch", Clara says.

Lyra puts her hands to her head, "No, not today. Fuck!" She urgently turns to Clara, "Do you have a few quarters? I promise I'll pay you back with interest!"

[thiscoffeelooksbiracial]

It's been a minute, UPDATES:

Have felt unwell since June. Blood work is inconclusive. I suspect I had a minor bout of covid. While I wasn't laid low like my peers, I do seem to have a lingering malaise. The best recourse seems to be rest, so I'm taking it.

To that end, since I'll be spending lots of time indoors for the foreseeable future, I've decided to make my apartment as cozy as possible. I didn't care before because it functioned as more of a crash pad. Now that I'm staying put, time to make an effort and actually decorate.

Personal growth wise, I'm really making a push for Q4. I want the aws cloud practitioner cert and to start college courses by November. I'm also participating in a cyber program at work. Could be a new opportunity at some point.

Relationships. I spun the block when I had no reason to. I wanted a fun summer tryst before I got my life together in the fall. That crashed and burned, but I'm not sad about it. Things were so dramatic back then that I never really knew him. I thought time would make things better, and while he's in a better place as far as life milestones, now I know he sucks as a person. Better to know this now for sure and be able to walk away.

Sobriety: I spent a lot of the last two years faded. I still accomplished a lot but it got to the point when things went from only on weekends, to everyday after work, to even during work. Between the health scare and admitting that I wouldn't have reconnected with him if I'd been sober, I decided to stop taking edibles for now. I haven't felt the need to buy any. I'm also limiting alcohol. I didn't drink much before because of the edibles. I don't want to replace one vice with another.

Rich inner life: I've picked up knitting again. I think I went 2 years without it. Bought yarn and needle sets from knit picks in July. Hauled lots of yarn during their latest stash building sale. I'm gonna knit hats on fingering weight yarn. I avoided knitting hats because of how drying they can be for my hair. I have come across a pattern for satin lined hats. I know I could buy them, but a hand knit would be fully customizable. The retail versions never fit me. The only issue is that the easiest way to see the lining is to use a sewing machine. Never learned. But I did find a shop in the city that hosts monthly beginner lessons. I'll go next month and then decide if I want to buy a machine or just rent time at their studio. I've taken to marathoning shows while I knit in the evenings. I finally watched Veep. Re-watched Dexter. Now I'm watching Elementary. I saw the first season when it originally aired, but between working nights and eventually not having a tv, I never finished. After this I'll revisit Scandal.

[sylviazem]

FFXIV Write 2023- Prompt #4: Off the Hook

It's miserable. Everyone is always deciding for me. What I wear. What I eat, where I eat. Sit. Be polite. Grin and bear it, "for the family". I'm sick of all of it.

I wish I could just...disappear, somewhere. I just want to-

"...Oi, Cherry", Stella snapped her fingers to get her attention. "Y'hear me, darlin'?"

"Oh, uhh, sorry. What- what were you saying?"

"I was sayin', good job with that client o' yours. That blonde hyur lady? Ya got 'er on the hook, darlin'! I dunno what yer doin' to 'er up there but it's workin'. Keep it up."

"...Mm. Thank you."

"Might be a fine idea to actually let 'er off the hook for a while...Then really reel 'er in for a...profit", Stella finally took note of how distracted Cherry was. "...Ya okay, darlin'? Seem a lil'...abstracted."

"...May I speak honestly? And...privately?"

"Course, darlin'. Whatever is the matter," Stella asked as they entered the empty kitchen. "...Did the client do somethin' bad to ya?"

"No, not at all", Cherry seemed to be struggling to find a proper way to explain what was on her mind. "She just...Um, or rather, I think...Would you consider...hiring her?"

"...Aha", Stella laughed but stopped when she saw Cherry's eyes. "...Yer serious? Wh- Did she ask you, to do this?"

"No, it was my idea, but", Cherry let out an anxious sigh. "She told me she's getting married. An arranged kind of thing, y'know? A-and she said she wants to "disappear". That kind of...scared me. So I thought..."

"Yer asking me to hire the daughter o' some wealthy family, a stranger, to escape an arranged marriage? Is- Is that what I'm hearin', right now?"

"I know it's ridiculous, Stella, but...please, wont you at least see her?"

"...Hmmrhn", Stella tapped her foot in frustration, trying to avert her gaze from Cherry. "...That face, those damned eyes, fine! I'll see 'er. She still upstairs?"

"Mhm."

Cherry quickly escorted Stella up the stairs and into the room where the client was still waiting; a fair hyur lady, with her blonde hair tied up. She stood up and bowed courteously as soon as Stella entered the room.

"So. Yer the one, eh?"

"Yes. Ma'am."

"Manners. Good start", Stella carefully eyed her up and down. "Now convince me. Skills, talents, let's go."

"Um...I can...d-dance..?"

"She can dance! My gods, girl", Stella took a step forward and leaned close. "Can ya cook? Sew clothes? Mix drinks? Please a man?"

"No, but I-"

"None of that? Hmph. How are ya to be o' use to the House, then?"

"I-", she hesitantly glanced at Cherry, who nodded encouragingly. "I love women!!"

"Hm", Stella's ears visibly perked up. "A flower girl, huh? Hmm..."

Cherry had let her in on the fact that Stella was looking to hire a Starlet who could specifically appeal to the women-loving female clientele; Cherry was more than happy to mingle with anyone but was woefully overworked due to her popularity. The tension in the room was palpable as they waited for Stella to speak again.

"...All right. Lose the gown an' give us a spin, sweetheart."

Again, she nervously glanced at Cherry, who gave her an endearing smile. She took the gown off and did her best to confidently show herself off.

"Nice, plump arse", Stella lightly slapped her bottom as she turned. "An' a real nice pair o' tits on ya, luv. Ya got the looks, I'll give ya that. Let yer hair down for me?"

"Um, th-", she let her surprisingly long, smooth hair down as asked. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Mm. Name?"

"E-"

"Don' matter. In fact, forget ya even had a name", Stella ruffled her hair a bit, lost in thought. "Yer Maple now. Just Maple, last name comes later. Do ya want red or brown?"

"Um, r-red...? I think I'd like...that."

"Grand. Yer hair's gonna be a piece 'o work but we should curl it up, too. Can't have anyone recognizin' ya, now can we", Stella offered her hand. "...Only shake it if yer ready to disappear, doll. No goin' back after this."

-be free.

[modern-vellichor]

pls more frank castle drabbles😮‍💨🤌where be is a brat tamer pls

warnings: 18+ dom!frank, explicit language, implied blowie babey

a/n: can you tell that idk what the fuck im writing about? yes. yes you can. anyway feel free to send me more requests here

"Fuckin' hell, Frank," you scolded as you sped dangerously down the road.

It was dark. The road was winding. You were driving far too fast. His nose was gushing blood all over the interior of your poor car. You were usually a very calm person, but Frank had pushed you too far tonight. He had called you at two in the morning to pick him up from some bar in the middle of fucking nowhere. You drove an hour in the dark to fetch him, and now you had to take him home.

"How many times do I have to tell you, huh?"

"Drop it," he grunted.

"No," you continued to bitch at him the whole way home.

Frank was pissed off when you picked him up. He was sitting on the curb, he had been left to stew in all the anger. And when you pulled up he didn't even get a hello. You just told him to get into the car and immediately started going off on him. Frank only got angrier. No matter how many times he told you to stop, you just disobeyed him. And then you got angrier.

By the time you pulled up outside your house (courtesy of your homeland friends), Frank was furious. He stared daggers at you as you unlocked the door. If looks could kill. He went straight to your en suite while you resumed your spot in bed.

"Come here," Frank shouted from the bathroom.

You ignored him.

"Sweetheart, don't fuckin' ignore me," he warned. "I need your help."

You groaned and grumbled as you threw yourself out of bed. You did nothing but glare at him as he pointed to the stab wound on his shoulder. You made him sit on the toilet as you awkwardly hovered over his lap to stitch him up. Frank hissed and cursed as you sewed up the wound. You spared no sympathy. Frank was now fuming.

You tied the last knot on the stitches and gently pushed Frank away from you. Frank grabbed your wrist before you could move away. His other hand curled around your throat and pulled you down. His gaze met yours. He was not happy with you.

"What's with the attitude, huh? You think treating me like shit is gonna make things better?"

"Fuck you, Frank," you spat, you were digging your own grave. "You only ever treat me like shit. I'm just returning the favour."

His grip on your neck tightened. Your mouth fell open and your eyes closed. You wrapped your hands around Frank's wrist. Frank grinned maliciously. He pulled you down to kiss you. Just as you began to melt into the kiss, he pushed you away.

"What the fuck?"

"I don't kiss ungrateful sluts," he smiled, shoving past you and getting into bed.

You weren't sleeping next to him. Not after that. You didn't deserve this. If anything, he's the ungrateful one. Normally, you enjoyed the little games Frank played. You played along and were usually well rewarded. But you were tired, and your head hurt. And Frank was being mean. So you went to sleep on the couch. Frank didn't hear you walking out, and got confused when he didn't hear you begging to be touched. When he rolled over, you weren't even in the room. So he went looking for you.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I don't sleep with ungrateful assholes," you echoed his words.

Frank lifted your legs to sit on the couch, placing them on his lap. His hands ran soothingly up and down your calves. He waited until you had calmed down to speak. He had calmed down long ago, he felt apologetic. He probably should have apologised sooner.

"C'mon," he said.

You sat up, and he patted his lap. You moved to straddle him, and immediately his your face in the crook of his neck. Your breathing was still uneven. And so Frank waited some more. He trailed his fingers gently up and down your spine. When Frank was sure you were calm, he started his little act again.

"Y'know, I don't think you've been good."

"Fuck you," you uttered, voice muffled. There was a playful bite in your voice and Frank could feel you grinning.

"Don't be a brat, sweetheart."

He pulled you out of your hiding spot by the nape of your neck. He spread his legs and you fell through them and onto the floor. You folded your knees underneath you. You rested your head on his thigh, staring up at him expectantly.

"Maybe you should put that mouth to good work and make it up to me," he growled.

You were already undoing his belt when you grinned up at him. You opened your mouth to speak and sealed your fate.

"Make me."