#it's literally like someone took everything I find hot and put it into this moment of this damn TV show from the 90s

[running-in-the-dark]

😳 okay yeah this is totally fine, yeah

[hbyrde36]

Inspired by this TikTok

I wrote this instead of everything else I should be working on, enjoy! 😂

Rating: G | WC: 2494 | AO3

Eddie took a deep breath, preparing himself mentally for the night ahead as he walked up the street towards the place he was supposed to meet his blind date.

He couldn’t believe he’d agreed to this, but it wasn’t like he was having any luck finding love on his own. 

After several failed long-term relationships with fuckboys that weren’t worth his time and heartache, who ran the second things got real, he joined the apps—quickly realizing that most of the guys he found on there were only looking for sex. Which was fun and all, but Eddie wanted more. 

He was looking for romance, a spark, someone he could see spending his life with, who was also looking for a partner. Someone who wasn’t allergic to commitment. 

So, he’d quit the apps. 

And when Chrissy told him she had a guy she wanted him to meet he figured, fuck it, he’d tried everything else. 

Steve Harrington. 

He was a friend of Robin’s, Chrissy’s new girlfriend who Eddie hadn’t had the chance to meet yet, but apparently the three of them had gotten together last weekend, and now Chrissy was convinced the man and Eddie were perfect for each other. 

“On the surface it’s giving opposites attract,” she’d said, “but under the carefully styled hair and button down shirts, Steve is not at all what you’d expect. He’s kind, funny, a little weird, and way different than the guys you usually go for—but in the best way. Just give it a chance. I promise at the very least you’ll have a good time and maybe make a friend.”

Eddie wasn’t so sure that’d be the case, but he was here, willing to give it a go, and he had a trick up his sleeve. A little idea he’d stolen from a TikTok video that had, so far, a 100% success rate for exposing duds.

He reached his destination and pushed open the door, entering the warm dimly lit restaurant, and before he’d even reached the hostess stand noticed a man rising from his seat, smiling and waving—waving at him.

And oh, oh Chrissy had better count her days because Eddie was going to fucking kill her. Steve, assuming this was the guy, was quite literally the hottest man he’d ever seen in real life. 

She couldn't warn a guy?  

Eddie raised his hand, absently returning the wave as he continued to stare a little dumbstruck at his date. 

Get it together, Munson. 

Mercifully, Eddie was able to snap out of it enough to put one foot in front of the other again and make his way over to their booth.

There was an awkward moment where Steve couldn’t seem to make up his mind between shaking Eddie’s hand, or hugging him in greeting. 

Honestly Eddie wasn’t sure of the protocol either since it was his first blind date. He supposed this was to be expected. Not only were they about to embark upon the supremely awkward adventure that was every first date ever, but they were also meeting for the very first time having never seen or spoken to each other before.    

In the end it became one of those half-and-half bro hugs with the little pat on the back, before they took their seats opposite one another. 

Steve was the first to break the silence. “It’s good to meet you, Chrissy told me a lot about you.” 

“Wish I could say the same.” Eddie muttered under his breath. 

“Oh, um.”

“Sorry, it’s—I didn’t mean,” Eddie shook his head at himself. “Ignore me.”

“No, I'm sorry.” Steve raked a hand over his face. “It’s weird right? This is weird. I tried to tell Robin—I mean, who even goes on blind dates anymore!”

It surprised a laugh out of Eddie that he couldn’t have held back if he tried. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. 

Great job, Munson, laugh at the guy—great way to make a first impression. 

But then Steve was cracking a little lopsided smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever-so-slightly with it. He didn’t seem offended, or mad. 

Fuck. 

He wasn’t just dangerously hot, he was cute too. 

Eddie tugged lightly on his shirt collar, and cleared his throat. “It’s a little weird, sure, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

Their server chose that moment to arrive and introduce herself, taking their drink order—some local craft beer Eddie had never heard of for Steve, a Jack and coke for himself—and Eddie used the temporary distraction to try and regain some composure. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t already hoping this would go somewhere, that Steve would be different from all the others.

But when the server had gone and it was just the two of them again, Steve opened his mouth and Eddie instantly flashed back to every bad first date he’d been on.

“So, what’s your favorite—”

Steve hadn’t even finished asking his first question before Eddie was interrupting, raising a hand to tick off each response on his fingers as he went.

“Black, metal, D&D, the 1999 cinematic masterpiece The Mummy starring our lord and savior Brendan Fraser, The Silmarillion, cheeseburgers, Halloween, aaaaand—a dog.”

Steve blinked at him. “...What?”

“My favorite color, genre of music, hobby, movie, book, food, holiday, and of course the classic—if I could be any animal, what animal would I be and why?” 

Eddie let his hand fall to the table with a soft thud. “Dog—hands down. And I know I look more like someone who’d say black cat or something like that, but I enjoy attention and physical affection far too much to be an aloof feline. Shaggy lovable mutt seems way more my speed.”

By the end of his speech, Steve was grinning from ear to ear, nodding in understanding.

Eddie gave half a shrug, blushing a bit under the full force of Steve’s dazzling smile. “Thought I'd save us some time and speed-run the same old, same old.”

A moment later their drinks arrived and they both sat up a little straighter reflexively as the server set each glass down on cocktail napkins in front of them before scurrying off. 

They’d been leaning in towards each other without even realizing, it seemed. It was Steve’s turn to blush now, Eddie noted with delight as he raised his glass to his lips, grateful to have something to do with his hands.

“I take it you’ve been on a lot of first dates?” Steve asked, taking a long sip from his own drink.

“A few.” Eddie said, tilting his cup to swirl the ice around. “You?”

Steve made a waffling motion with his head. “A few.” 

Eddie took another sizable swig from his glass, focusing for a moment on the burn of the whiskey and the tingle of soda bubbles in his throat as he swallowed, and carefully set his cup down on the table between them. It was almost empty already—should have asked for a double. 

“Okay, my turn, “ he said.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You wanna know my favorite color?”

“No, there’ll be plenty of time to find that out later.”

“Presumptuous of you.”

Eddie hummed noncommittally. “More… hopeful.”

Steve let out a breathy laugh. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

Here goes nothing—

“What would you do if we moved in together and I started seeing ghosts and told you that our house was haunted?”

Steve tilted his head to the side, giving Eddie that soft crooked smile again, and damn if it wasn’t becoming one of Eddie’s favorite things. Can you be obsessed with something you’ve only seen twice?

Steve was quiet for a long moment, nearly draining his beer as he thought it over, but eventually set his own drink down beside Eddie’s and looked him dead in the eye. “Is it a nice ghost or a scary ghost? Are we talking banging on walls and rearranging furniture at 3am? Or a cold yet comforting presence in the corner.” 

Eddie put on a show of thinking about it, rubbing his chin and staring off into space as he tried desperately to contain his excitement. He’d never had the question go over this well before. 

Then their server was back, asking if they wanted another round—yes, of course—and if they were ready to order. They hadn’t even cracked open their menus yet, too distracted with talking. 

“Do you know what you want?” Steve asked him.

Eddie swallowed hard. 

You.

“I-I’m not picky. Order for me? Chrissy said you come here a lot so I’m sure you know what’s good.”

Without hesitation Steve ordered them a burger each, and a plate of some sort of fancy fries to share, apparently they had the best fries. 

It hadn’t been another test, honest. Eddie really didn’t care what he ate, this was already turning out to be his best date in far too long—and It could have been a coincidence, maybe Steve ordered burgers there all the time, but Eddie chose to believe it meant Steve had been listening. Test or not, he’d passed with flying colors.

When they were alone again Eddie smoothed his hands along the table, drawing invisible patterns with his fingers and finally answered Steve’s question. 

“Let’s go with scary ghost, but remember you have no proof, you haven't seen it with your own eyes, just my word.”

Steve waved him off as if that was inconsequential, upending his glass to get the last dregs of the beer, and wiping his lips on the back of his hand.

“Okay, well then it depends on how hands on you want to be. We could consult WitchTok, try and cleanse the house ourselves, ask the spirit to leave, that kinda thing. Or maybe find a priest who’d be willing to help us out? That might be a little more difficult since the church isn’t usually our biggest fans, but I could deal with a little homophobia to make sure you were happy and comfortable in our home.”

Eddie’s stomach flipped, heart beginning to race. He wasn’t surprised exactly, Steve had been blowing past his expectations at every turn already, but there was no more perfect answer to his admittedly insane first date question.

So naturally, he had to push. 

“What if I wanted to move?”

Steve shrugged. “Then we’d move.” 

Eddie stared at him incredulously. Steve said it like it was nothing, like uprooting his entire life for some crazy shit was akin to changing his socks. This was all hypothetical, Eddie knew that, and Steve could just be telling him what he wanted to hear, but Eddie had a feeling he was telling the absolute truth

“But we’d be out, at minimum, a month’s rent and security deposit, and what if the landlord won’t let us out of the lease?!” Eddie threw his hands up, suddenly taking his own game much too seriously. “Or godforbid we’d bought the place, then we’d have to sell it and all our money would be tied up in it, and—”

Steve reached out and took Eddie’s hands with his own, gently stroking his thumbs along the back of them. “Baby—baby it’s okay. No amount of money would be worth you feeling unsafe.”

And Eddie was simply going to pass away, because what the fuck—how was this man so perfect?

“Why—how are you single?”

Steve flashed a sad, self deprecating smile. “I’ve been told I can be a little… intense.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Well, historically speaking…”

Eddie leaned over the table, pressing a kiss to the back of Steve’s hand. “I happen to like intense.”

Steve sucked in a breath, cheeks flushing again with the most glorious shade of pink. “Good to know.”

They stayed hand in hand talking for a long time, taking turns asking each other the most random questions they could think of. 

“Favorite episode of The Twilight Zone?” Eddie asked. 

“Oh, easy. I don’t know the name of it but it’s the one where the kid is lost and her parents can hear her in the house panicking, but they can’t see her?” 

Eddie nodded his approval. “Little Girl Lost, good choice.” God he was falling more in love by the second. 

“Favorite Abba song.” Steve countered. 

Eddie grinned. “How do you know I even have one? Mean scary metalhead like me.”

Steve rolled his eyes, and shot him a look that clearly stated he found Eddie neither mean or scary. “Everybody likes Abba.”

“Well played.” Eddie bit at his bottom lip. He felt like a teenager with his first crush all over again. “Fine—while Dancing Queen holds a special place in my heart, and maybe this makes me a gay cliche, but Gimme, Gimme, Gimme fucking slaps.” 

It went on and on like that until eventually their food arrived, forcing them to separate. They still spoke as they finished their meal, and settled their tab, but Eddie missed the warmth of Steve’s hand in his already. 

He suddenly understood why some couples chose to sit together on the same side of a booth. He’d happily look like a dork right now to have the opportunity to be pressed up against Steve’s side, to be able to slide a hand along his thigh and maybe—

“Eddie?” 

Steve’s slightly raised voice found him in his daydream, snapping him out of it abruptly. 

“Wha..?”

“Did I lose you there for a second?” Steve asked, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

Eddie rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah, sorry, um—you were saying?”

“I said, I'm having a really good time, and I know we already paid the bill but I really don’t want this night to end, so—” Steve slid out of his seat and moved to stand in front of him, holding a hand out—which Eddie took immediately, of course, and let Steve pull him to his feet. 

“I was wondering if you’d want to take this back to my apartment? Y’know, so we can plan a second date?” He finished with a smirk.

Jesus Christ. 

Warmth shot through Eddie’s body at the implications but he found his heart skipping a beat too, because as much as Steve was teasing, Eddie knew somehow that he meant it about the second date. 

He couldn’t believe his luck, Steve was everything Chrissy had made him out to be, and so much more. He was going to send her the biggest bouquet of flowers tomorrow, and maybe an edible arrangement. Were those still a thing?

Eddie leaned in, letting his lips brush along the shell of Steve’s ear as he spoke. “It’s not haunted, is it?” 

Steve shivered, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and pulling their bodies flush. “No, but if you’re interested I can think of a few other ways to make you scream.”

Thanks as always to the lovely @penny00dreadful for everything😘😘😘

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari

[dotster001]

Labor Simulator

A sequel to Period Simulator *

Summary: Malleus/Crewel/Crowley/Rook/Vil/Idia x gn! Reader. The boys try a labor simulator.

Requested by @stygianoir and @ase-kjaere

3k follower Masterlist

* it was given a community label by the idiot Tumblr gods, and I don't know how to fight it. Just know, it's not a mature fic

When you come in with the machine, he looks up from whatever it is he's doing, and fixes you with a death glare.

He didn't even try the period simulator, why would he try labor simulator?

Get the fuck out. He has to think about this relationship. Don't worry he won't actually break up with you over this. He just wants you to feel bad

Look, you know labor is worse than cramps. But after he was such a champ with the period simulator, you think everything will be fine.

And you easily forget he's still a hot headed youth, not that much older than you, so you don't think much of it when he takes it from you, and puts it on immediately, telling you to do your worst.

You think you're the one who put him through this. But honestly, you're completely innocent. He's a silly, silly guy. With a big ego, and something to prove. Not to you, don't worry it's not your fault.

And he starts out fine. But by the end of it all, he's crying. Your cool, collected boyfriend is crying. So you turn it off, and hold him the way he holds you when you're sad. In the end, you end up feeding a part of him he didn't realize was starving.

Unlike Crowley, he might actually break up with you. He is not going to go through hours of "contractions", sweat through his makeup, and sob and scream like a baby just because you thought it might be funny.

The only way to save your relationship is to toss the machine to the side, and be like, "JK lol ha ha I would never have meant it literally :)"

As we previously discussed, he bought it himself, and pulled it out seconds after you took the period simulator off.

Why are you like this? Seriously, babe, you don't need to experience every aspect of life to appreciate true beauty! Ok. Ok fine.

So you put it on him, and start to do different levels to simulate different parts of labor. Only, just like before, he wants to roleplay. He'll grab your hand and hiss at you to be his breathing coach.

Things that'll happen while he makes you continue the exercise- he'll name your imaginary children (he's having triplets), he'll decide what school they are going to, he'll pause the simulation and teach you how to be a better breathing coach, he'll teach you how to give him an epidural (do not give it to him!), he'll teach you how to help deliver triplets, he'll try to teach you how to do a C section

Stop him, for the love of God, stop him. You'll have to literally fight him, but if you don't, he's putting a scalpel in your hand….

It was his idea! Human birth is fascinating to someone who came from an egg!

But, again, he comes up on the tragedy of the machine bursting into flames once he comes into contact with it. So, again, he finds a potion that would simulate-

Sebek kicks the potion out of his hands. He's been waiting for this ever since the previous incident, and he will not, I repeat, he will not allow his lord to put himself through an artificial human pregnancy!!!!!!!!

You'll have two faes angrily trying to get you to help them. On the one hand, one is your boyfriend, and you want to do whatever it takes to make him happy. On the other hand, the other is Sebek.

Choose wisely.

He totally didn't cry on the period simulator. And he totally didn't delete the footage in Ortho's data bank, and he totally didn't also wipe his memory of the moment. He'd delete your memories of it too if he could, he's looking into how to do it.

So if you challenge him, and tell him about a labor simulator, he's going to do it! By the sevens, he is going to succeed!

Cries immediately. You only have it at pain level three, and he's already backing out. Ortho says you should keep it going because it would be good for him to learn not to do things he isn't capable of. Idia will once again be deleting Ortho's memory files.

[khristie16]

Dom Charles Leclerc sub Italian reader, a very long, hot spanking punishment (belt too) for the reader because of her rebel/bad attitude in their previous fight/discussion, bend over the table rough sex, wrists tied using the belt, a lot of dirty talk (in French too) and teasing, "Oui, Monsieur", after sex soft/gentle Charles. Thank you so much!! 🥰

This was so fun to write! Thanks for the tip!!:** Warnings: see above, swearing

I said No Charles! What do you mean no?? Like a fucking NO! Excuse-moi?? he looked at you in disbelief. You think it was my fault the guy touched me? You really think that huh? No it is not your fault but I told you to stay away from that group of people! And you think you can boss me around like that? Well, you are my girlfriend. So when I don't like something, I will tell you. Well then you have to accept I'm not gonna do everything you say! YN - his eyes incredibly dark. NO! Cazzo. - you stormed out out of your place. Leaving Charles behind. -

As you went back to your home after some time of cooling down, since you have a short tempered personality, you opened the door and saw literally nothing inside. It was dark everywhere. Gulping slightly, you were trying to find the switch to turn on the lights. As you were reaching out, in the exact moment someone grabbed you by your wrist and swung you around so you felt someone behind your back. It was a hard landing. Being pressed to someone's torso behind you.

Ma che cazzo?! He jerked you with such force that you hissed in pain. I'm so DONE with your SWEARING at me. - deep and harsh tone of his startled you. Charles! as you screamed when he tossed you on the couch. As you turned around to lay on your back, he switched on the little lamp on the side of the conference table. Take your skirt off. You furrowed your eyebrows on him. Do as I say YN or you will suffer more. - he glared at you. As you were trembling to take your skirt off, you looked rather mad. And don't give me that look. Or I will tie you up to the bed for one week straight without you able to do anything rather then taking my cock. Begging me to stop. As you opened your mouth at his rude words, he shoved his point and middle finger to your mouth. You gagged immediately. He pressed his two fingers inside your mouth and his thumb under your chin to squeeze his hold on you and putting so much pressure you had to obey to his movements. He got you to your knees in front of the couch.

Bring the ice, now. As you were trying to bring some oxygen again to your lungs, you stumbled and got up to your legs. He grabbed you by your arm and put you to your knees again. This man had incredible strength. Did I tell you to stand up? As you were looking to his eyes, you saw pure rage. You got so afraid to do anything. Afraid to talk. So you just shook your head. Words…. he exhaled as If he was done with you any second. No… No what? No Charles, you did not. I'm not Charles anymore. - giving you the glance again. You felt tears welling up in your eyes.

You knew what he meant by that. It happened just once when he took control over you so much you thought it is impossible to be this dominant over anyone. It was just once because it was so intense for you you cried so much and begged for not doing it ever again. But Charles was not playing with you anymore, not today. You fucked up bad.

No, Monsieur. He just nodded - Now get the ice. As you were going on all fours to the kitchen, getting the ice from the freezer, tears running down your face, sobbing quietly so he doesn't hear you. When you got back, tottering from side to side, you stopped at his feet. Crying more loudly than you indented to. You crying now? - he chuckled - Should have thought about that earlier when shouting and swearing at me. He took the ice from your hands and placed it somewhere, since you were still looking on the ground. Bend over the couch. Qui, Monsieur.

As you grabbed yourself from the floor, you carefully walked to the couch and laid down, hearing nothing around you. It was so quiet. The only thing you've heard were your sobs. And your fearful thoughts loud and clear in your head - you awaited the worst. As you were lost in your thoughts, he got you snapped back in the moment by slapping your bare cheeks. He left his rings on his fingers, a high possibility he will tear your skin since it happened once already. His spanks were rough and hard as his soul right now. You squeezed your eyes as you processed the pain. Trying not to scream. You think you can raise your voice at me? or swear at me? SLAP You were moving up and down since you wanted to make friction elsewhere to not feel the pain. You will pay for that, cherie. He slapped you five times in a row making you scream and shout Please stop-p - making it hard for you to even speak since all you felt were tears and frog in your throat. Shhhh, don't be loud cherie. Neighbors don't need to know you were a bad girlfriend right? Slapping you again for six times. You buried you face so hard into the couch, you could hardly breath. You wanted to disappear so bad in that moment.

You hissed when suddenly you felt the ice on your skin. Shh, don't move. - he put his big hands on your hips to hold you still. Grabbing your skin roughly you felt the skin was already bruised. C-Charles *sob* - he slapped you right away, grabbed you by your hair and spoke directly to your ear. I'm N.O.T. your Charles anymore. I'm sorry monsiuer, - crying so much you were surprised you could talk - I'm s-sorry. You better be. As he continued to cold your cheeks, you stopped moving and shivering. Thinking you are done with the punishment, which made you slightly happy again. But Charles thought different. As you were staring blankly to the floor around the couch, thinking you paid for your previous behavior, you heard a belt clinking. As you moved your face to its direction, you saw Charles standing above you with the belt in his right hand. Your eyes almost fell out, stopped breathing as well…

Ma cherie, you will be a good girl won't you? - smiling at you like a devil itself. You started crying again, but nodding at the same time. Qui, Monsieur. As you put your head back, tears running down your cheeks, you awaited the pain. One, two, three… you grabbed the couch with your hands. The pain was unbearable. More painful since your skin was cold and heating up at the same time, making it extremely painful. How would you rate your previous behavior? Che? - you asked since it was so hard to concentrate on anything else but pain. Three hard smacks with the belt. D.o.n.'t. make me r.e.p.e.a.t. myself. I don't know! - sobbing so hard. - Five, five…. - you hoped your prayers will be heard. Five? - he chuckled loud. - I'd say at least sixteen. As he started his count, you screamed desperately, taking your hands to hide your cheeks. His movements stopped for a sec. T.a.k.e. your hands away RIGHT NOW or I will slap them with the belt as well. You suffered but obeyed. Sobbing and crying on the couch as you slowly put them beside your laying body again.

When he got to the number sixteen, you were just crying with your eyes open, no facial expression whatsover. Awaiting the end. Si jolie fille. Look at the color cherie. - you heard a camera shot sound. As he was walking to where your face was, grabbing you by the hair and showing you the photo. This is you. You get this for mistreating me. You saw how badly red your ass was, seeing the scarred skin - devastated Que c'est beau. He grabbed you under your armpits, putting you in the air as if you weighted nothing and tossing you next to the the kitchen counter. Your hips bumped to the edge. Take off your shirt. - you did as he said, your whole body trembled right now. He went for your nipples, squeezing them harsh between his fingers, making you put your head back to his shoulder and moaned. Now he was aiming for your neck, sucking harshly and making hickeys all over your skin. You were a moaning mess right now. He chuckled at such condition of yours. You won't ever disobey me again, If I say you don't go to talk to anyone, you just won't. Or else I will make out of your neck a hickey graveyard it will be so embarrassing for you to go anywhere in the public… silence and sobbing.

He grabbed you by your hips and pushed you towards the table in front of the window in the living room. You yelped as your hips hit the edge of the table. Before you could stand up he was already right behind you. Spread your legs for me. - you cried out out loud since you knew what will come next. You felt his fingers running down your folds, humming as he liked what he saw. What a beautiful view ma cherie. You are so wet for me. - shoving his finger inside you making you moan embarrassingly. - Your pussy is so needy. - he chuckled - Let me take care of her. He shoved inside you so deeply you felt the pain in your lower stomach. You gasped for air and gripped the edges of the table frantically. - he chuckled all of a sudden. Ah, you finding comfort in it? Let me change that for you. As he grabbed you by the neck, he put you higher so he could grab your wrists and lock them together with his belt. You deserve nothing but comfort.- He spitted in your right ear. Putting pressure on your back now, you laid back again with your arms held together in a fit. He started to fuck you again, not letting you to adjust to his size. Making it even harder for you. He went for a faster pace, making you scream once again. Merde, cherie. Your pussy is so good. Much better than you are to me - You sobbed. I'm-m sorry, I'm sorry. Please. You don't deserve it. He grabbed you harder by your hips, pressing his nails into your skin to make sure to leave marks on you. You are all mine cherie. Do. - thrush - you - thrust - understand - thrust? Qui, qui Monsieour. As you sobbed and moaned out loud at the same time. He chuckled at your messing state. He went with this thumb to your tight hole and shoved it inside - again not giving you time. AHHH Charles ! - *slap*. Shut up you whore. He was attacking both of your holes making you squirm under his touch and seeking your pleasure peak. As you moaned even more and more he went for even a faster pace. You like this cherie? Qui, qui. As you moaned. And since Charles knew your body like the back of his hand, he knew when to stop. NO! - you cried out loud. - P-please, pleas-se…you breathed loudly and deeply, still sobbing since it hasn't left you. He laughed at you cruelly now. He took his other hand and touched your clit so lightly you started moving towards the friction. He slapped your ass, making you a hiss sound. D.o.n.t. move. - you nodded slightly. He continued brushing your clit slightly, teasing you so much you thought your on the verge of breaking out. He got yourself right where he wanted you. You were moving from side to side from the so close orgasm you needed release immediately. You were a writhing mess under him. You are such a whore ma cherie. Please. I'm begging you, You think you deserve it now? Qui. - he laughed at you. No, not yet.

He grabbed you by your hips and tossed you to ground. Making you hit your face since your wrists were still tied together. Sit up. You did, hardly but did. Now listen to me, it will never ever happen again, you understand? You will never talk to me that way ever again. And I will make sure to do whatever it takes to make yourself seen off limits, and if you just cannot listen to me, I make your skin look so miserable that guys will be afraid to even touch you from such sight. Do you understand? Qui. - you meant it as you lowered your eyes. You never wanted to see this Charles again. You wanted the soft one, the loving one. The one you were used to. As he was looking at you, he smiled a little. Last lesson. Open your beautiful mouth. You did as he said. He shoved his big thick cock in your mouth, making you gag around him. So good for me cherie. So good. - your eyes teary once again, breathing harder for him. I bet your pussy likes this. I bet it's a mess beneath you. You moaned loudly at that. Because he was telling the truth.

As he was thrusting his cock in your mouth, the more he groaned out loud, you knew he was getting close. He thrusted in your mouth one last time and put him out. Jerking himself off and squirting on you. As he was panting and finding his steady breath again, you felt his cum dripping down on your skin. If it means to put my cum on you and letting you go like this to public, I will do it. I won't disobey you again, Monsieur. Good. - as he exhaled, he took you by your wrists and let you stand up.

You've learnt your lesson cherie. - he kissed the inside of your wrists, he let the belt loose. Grabbing you under your knees and the backside of your shoulder blades. Taking you to the bedroom. Laying you down on your stomach. Put your hips a little bit higher for me mon amour. - and you did. Loving your old Charles is back again. He sneaked his right hand to your clit, rubbing it softly and his dick once again entered your hot pussy. Making you moan immediately. Be a good girl and come for me. As he was moving in and out of you, rubbing your clit, focusing on your pleasure, you didn't last long. Moaning so hard and calling his name, he groaned to himself and supported you to come for him. He knew your body so well, putting light kisses on your neck since he knew you love it. You had the most intense orgasm so far being with him, moaning and saying his name on repeat. Breathing loudly and coming from your high, he slowly and gently started massaging your back. Making you hum a little at his soft touch. You like this cherie? - you just hummed and smiled to yourself. Good. He continued for a little bit, starting at your back, going down your legs and up once again. And then turned you around, so you were on your back. Facing him. Seeing his beautiful face telling you, he adores completely what he sees beneath him. He used his knee to spread your legs, and you let him. Smiling at him you didn't know. You're so good for me right now ma cherie. - as he shoved himself inside of you. Making you arch your back. Y-yes. He moved slowly and lovingly. Putting his hands over your face, so you were forced to look into his eyes. His eyes were no longer dark, but soft. His green eyes were speaking to you, safety and intimacy. You were lost in his eyes as he were lost in yours. Te amo Charles. J'taime YN. He kissed you on the forehead and went a little faster with his thrusts. I want you to come once again, when I have my tongue down your throat. You started kissing each other, him invading your space inside your mouth. As you started to shiver, he hold your hips steadily and went faster. You were a moaning mess, losing your breath as he was stealing it from you. You came again, seeing stars, feeling his touch and his warm embrace. He groaned loudly to your ear as he came again, right after you…

As you both found your breath again, he looked at you, his eyes lazy. I'm gonna prepare a bath for you. I'd like that - you smiled at him. He kissed you on the cheek, stood up and went to the bathroom. You wanted to go after him but your legs were weak, so you just sat down on the bed again waiting for him. What is wrong mon amour? - he looked concerned. I cannot walk. - looking at him under your lashes. Smiling a little. He took you in his arms and took you to the bathroom. Putting you inside the warm water with bubbles and candles around. I will make dinner meanwhile you rest, it will be ready once you're finished. - he kissed you on the forehead, ready to leave. Charles? Yes? I am so sorry. I will never behave that way again. - you looking down into the water. I know - he rested his hand on your right cheek and kissed you on the forehead again, before disappearing to the kitchen.

[roonilwazlibimagines]

hair pulling - r.b x female!reader

Blurb: hair pulling. that's it Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: this is smut but not smut but still 18+ A/N: do i like this? no. do i like regulus and hair pulling? yes. i want to write but i have no inspiration.

Masterlist

*i literally cannot find it but please refer to that scene where timothee chalamet pulls that girls hair in lady bird*

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The first time Regulus pulled her hair she was barely five years old. He was of similar age and their mothers were friends and they were no stranger to the occasional playdate. 

And most times they got along, but like all children, sometimes neither of them knew how to deal with the big emotions they were feeling. 

That was why, when she snatched the ball Regulus was playing with out of his hands and exclaimed it was her turn, the only way Regulus knew how to deal with the hot feeling rising up to his cheeks was by walking over to her and letting his thoughts take over. 

He pulled her hair  

He’d never pulled a girl’s hair before. His clammy palms wrapped around the loose ends swaying around her shoulder and he tugged until she let out a scream and then he immediately let go. 

Of course, the mothers rushed out to console the red cheeked little girl and scold the shamed little boy and Regulus was forced to apologise. He felt bad. He really did. He didn’t mean to make her cry. He just wanted the ball back. 

So Regulus learnt that day that pulling someone’s hair was wrong. And fortunately, they remained friends. 

They were both sorted into Slytherin and they were both part of the same friend group. But everyone knew that their friendship was different to the bond they shared with everyone else in the group. 

They were kids when the hair pulling accident happened, and honestly, neither of them had thought about it since. 

Until their sixth year. She was sitting in the library with her friends, waiting for Regulus and Evan to make an appearance. It was a cold Saturday morning and she was so enthralled in the conversation she was having with the girl sitting next to her that she didn’t even notice Evan and Regulus walk in until Regulus walked behind her. 

And pulled her hair. 

It was tied up in a ponytail and he yanked it so her neck fell back, mainly due to the surprise of the movement. She let out a noise of shock as his nimble fingers wrapped around the soft strands and gave it a quick tug.

She squinted her eyes at him as she quickly undid her hair and combed through it with her fingers, putting it back in place after it had been messed up. 

“You’re an ass,” she said, but Regulus only smirked at her in response, quickly changing the subject, but letting his eyes linger on her for a moment more before turning to Evan sitting next to him. 

So it really was no wonder that the next year they started dating. 

It was their last day at Hogwarts and they were sitting out by the Black Lake, trying to take everything in before it all became a fuzzy memory. 

Regulus was sitting against a tree, his legs sprawled around the pretty girl sitting cross legged in front of him. 

The rest of their friends were sprawled out under the shade of the tree, laughing and reminiscing, and promising that they would remain friends after they left the gates of Hogwarts. 

There was a small lull in the conversation as their laughs died out and when Evan went to start it back up again with a random story from their third year, Regulus was overcome with the urge to kiss her. 

So he pulled her hair. 

He tugged at the roots so her head would fall back and hit his shoulder and before she could let out a noise of surprise, he brought his lips to hers. 

She was uncomfortable, turning her neck to reach his soft lips, but she didn’t mind. Besides, this was one of the rare times their friends weren’t commenting on their PDA, so she took the opportunity to enjoy the kiss. 

When Regulus slowly pulled away, she turned back around and ran her hands through her hair, putting it back in place. 

“You could have just asked,” she grumbled so only Regulus could hear. But she had turned around and couldn’t see the stupid smirk he was wearing. 

It wasn’t until they were both pushing nineteen though that Regulus pulled her hair and she enjoyed it. 

Her arms were about to give way on the soft mattress as Regulus pushed his hips relentlessly inside of her.  She buried her face into the thin sheet, letting out a low groan as her arms continued to shake even without the weight she was holding. 

Regulus was grunting behind her, his pace steady before he let his thoughts take over and reached a hand out. 

To pull her hair. 

Before she could even think about it a low groan left her lips as she moaned out Regulus’ name. She could hear him chuckle from behind her. 

It was only a gentle tug, but she squeezed around him when he stopped his movements to bring his head closer to hers, his hands still tugging tightly at the roots of her hair from the back of her head to bring her face closer to his. 

“Don’t tell me my sweet girl likes it when I pull her hair?” He asked, making her whine at his condescending tone. He tsked. “Answer me, pretty girl.”

She paused before her mouth finally caught up to her brain and she answered his question. “I do,” she exclaimed, “I like it when you pull my hair.” 

Regulus kissed the top of her forehead before letting her hair go gently and continuing his movements. 

“Good girl.” 

Now, Regulus’ hands were often found in her hair. 

She liked when he played with ends or when he tried to braid it, and she liked when he tugged at it. 

It was a few years into their relationship when they were getting ready for a party with their old friends from Hogwarts. Regulus had gone over to her house to get ready and when she came out wearing his favourite dress he found himself walking over to her. 

“Do you like it?” She asked, her tone dripping in faux innocence. 

“I think you already know the answer, my love.” 

In a few quick strides Regulus was already standing in front of her. She knew what she was doing when she put this dress on which was why she didn't mind her nervous tick of swaying on the spot under Regulus’ intense gaze. 

“You know what you’re doing,” Regulus pouted, making her giggle.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she shrugged. 

“Do you really have to look this good all the time, darling? You know I don’t like people thinking they can have what’s mine.”

She rolled her eyes at his speech, but stood still in front of him. Mainly because she was forced to. 

Regulus had pulled her hair. 

She was forced to look up at him, her breath caught in her throat as she stared up into his grey eyes. 

“Don’t be bratty,” he tsked, his long fingers entwined in her hair. 

“What’s the fun in being good?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

He laughed, his eyes squinting down at her, but his lips tugging upward in an amused nature. 

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Red Letter Day

Barney gets a call that Gordon Freeman had been found after ten years of being missing in action.

Word count: 4382

Notes: Another fic for my au "Aftermath" because I think its neat. I'm not sure what else to put here, enjoy the fic

Barney was beginning to remember how much he hated Winter as he stared through the warehouse window in front of him. Despite it being the beginning of March, spring was yet to come, meaning the snow was still falling with the temperature following suit. Barney had always hated the season, and as much as he tried, he could never come up with a proper reason. Maybe it was the fact it was cold, wet, and dreary, making any trip outside miserable, or perhaps it was the fact he was mainly cooped up inside all day, leaving him to get cabin fever. Or maybe it was a mixture of those two at the same time, along with the loneliness that came from them. No matter the reason, Barney kept quiet about it, realizing he had no ability to change the weather. All he could do was drink his hot coffee and put on a few more layers than usual. 

Barney took a sip from his mug as he looked away from the window, instead focusing his attention back into the room he was in. It was a storage room, full of random junk and scientific doodads Barney had no knowledge of. Boxes and crates were stacked up in piles taller than he was, stacked in such a way that it made Barney nervous even being near them in the case of them toppling over. Due to the lack of a radiator in that room, it was even chillier than the rest of the refurbished warehouse, making Barney glad he was wearing the warmest sweatpants he could find in his closet, along with a worn out grey hoodie, with the logo on the front being so faded that it was hard to make out as Black Mesa’s logo.

As he looked around, he was startled by the sound of a box slamming against the concrete floor, along with a short exclamation. “Oh, blast it!” “You alright, Doc?” Barney asked the other man in the room, watching as he bent over to pick up the fallen crate.

“I’m fine, just…hoping whatever was in here isn’t fragile…” 

Dr. Isaac Kleiner, or “Doc” as Barney referred to him as, was wearing a white lab coat over a robin-egg-blue dress-shirt and black tie, trading warmth for safety at his place of work. His glasses were slipping off his face as he moved boxes and rummaged through everything in the storage room, making it even more of a mess than it was before. 

“Where on earth could she have gone?” Kleiner asked, not necessarily expecting an answer. “There aren’t any vents she could have crawled in, are there?”

“I hope not,” Barney stated. “Last thing I want is that thing to fall on someone.” As Kleiner looked under a table, Barney spoke up again. “You think it ran off or something?”

“Oh no, I don’t believe so,” Kleiner stood up straight, “I’m sure she wouldn’t. After all, she needs to get fed eventually, so I imagine she’ll come out for that.” “If the thing didn’t eat someone's cat or something.”

“Hush!” Kleiner held a finger up to his mouth, causing both he and Barney to become silent as he listened closely. Barney attempted to hear what Kleiner was listening for, but to no avail, hearing nothing but silence. “Fie! I could’ve sworn I heard her moving around…”

Barney let out an exhausted sigh, “Doc, please, there’s plenty of those pests out there–”

“But there’s only ONE Lamar!”

“...Right.”

“Now, are you going to help me look?” Kleiner adjusted his crooked glasses, “Or are you going to simply stand there, doing nothing?”

“Uh…” Barney glanced away, thinking for a moment. “...No thanks.”

“Oh, you act like she’s some kind of wild animal.”

“It kinda is.”

“She’s been de-beaked and trained, and you know this!” Kleiner stated as he walked towards a filing cabinet near the corner of the room.

“‘Trained;’ I don’t think that thing is really…trained. My dog is trained, and I know you can train cats, but I don’t think you can train a literal parasite–”

“Oh! I think I’ve got something!” Kleiner said excitedly, “Help me move this cabinet, would you please?”

Barney reluctantly approached the metal cabinet as Kleiner positioned himself to the side of it, ready to move it as soon as Barney was. As soon as Barney placed his free hand against the side of it, he pushed, with Kleiner on the other side pulling it towards him.

Barney let out a loud yelp when something leaped at him from behind the cabinet, causing him to fall on his back and drop his mug on the floor. It was Lamar, the “Pet” headcrab that Kleiner had lost, and it was even uglier up close. As it laid on Barney’s chest, its six small, beady eyes stared back at him as he remained absolutely still, afraid of it trying to attack him. Its teeth on its stomach prodded at his stomach, along with its chipped, large front claws, which had colorful duct-tape covering the tips of them to prevent them from being too sharp. After a few moments of tense silence, Kleiner came to the rescue, picking up Lamar from where it rested on Barney’s torso, allowing him to take a breath.

“LAMAR!” Kleiner exclaimed, looking at his pet with relief in his eyes, “Oh, delightful! I’m so happy to see you weren’t left out in the cold somewhere…”

“Mm-hm…” Barney lifted himself off the ground, looking at his feet to see his knocked over coffee cup, with its contents spilled over. “Ugh…” 

Barney picked up his cup from the floor as Kleiner let Lamar go, watching as it waddled across the floor before jumping up onto one of the tables. Barney stared at it with contempt, the opposite reaction to Lamar’s rediscovery compared to Kleiner’s joy. 

“Do you even have a license for that thing?” Barney questioned as Lamar sat down on top of some loose documents. “If you don’t and animal control finds it, they’ll kill it–”

“I’m…in the process of getting one,” Kleiner stated, voice stumbling slightly. “And I hope no one finds her, cause if they do…I’m afraid of what you said coming true. I’m sure it will be fine regardless, at least she knows to stay inside.”

“...Sure.”

“Is everyone safe?”

Barney and Kleiner turned towards the doorway that led to the rest of the warehouse, seeing a lone, albino Vortigaunt staring back at them with her four maroon eyes. She was wearing a similar lab coat to Kleiner’s, with a borrowed pair of black dress pants, along with a fitted light brown sweater, with a hole in the middle of her chest for her third pseudo arm. She stared at Kleiner and Barney for a little while before Barney answered her question. 

“Yeah, we’re fine…” Barney sighed, glancing towards Lamar, “We just found Kleiner’s…pet.”

“Everything’s under control, Violet, you can get back to work!” Kleiner added.

“I see.” Violet’s gravelly voice seemed quieter than usual, making Barney’s brows furrow a bit.

“You alright?” He asked.

Violet seemed puzzled. “Hm?”

“Are you doing alright? I have noticed you’ve been a bit…closed off for the past few hours.” Kleiner inquired.

“We have been…distracted…” Violet responded. “I imagine it will be cleared up soon.”

“We?” Barney asked.

Violet didn’t answer. “I must get back to helping the others…the teleporter is nearly ready for its first test...”

“Oh! Wonderful. I’ll be there in a little bit.” Kleiner stated as Violet left the room. Barney remained puzzled, looking back at Kleiner with a feeling of unease in his chest.

“She said ‘we’.” Barney stated.

“I’m aware,” Kleiner responded. “You see, the Vortigaunts are able to tap into something they refer to as the ‘Vortessence’, and are thus all conne–”

“I know, Doc, I just…” Barney paused for a second. “If she’s talking about all the Vortigaunts, then wouldn’t that be a bit worrying?”

“...Maybe, but I'm not sure.” Kleiner stated. “Though, one of the members of the survey team we sent earlier today was a Vortigaunt, and that team hasn’t returned yet so…maybe there is a connection there.”

“Maybe.”

“Either way, I believe i’ll go and speak with her, just to make sure everything’s alri–”

Barney’s phone ringing from his pocket interrupted their thoughts, and when Barney pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open, he saw the number was from one of his coworkers at the hospital. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

“You’re fine, you go ahead and I’ll go check in with the others.”

Barney nodded, watching Kleiner leave the room before he answered the call and put his phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

Barney listened closely to the person on the other end of the phone, barely processing what they were saying. 

“What’s going on? 

Not going to believe what? 

So what, why are you telling me this?”

Barney listened closely, all before he felt his heart skip a beat. The sinking feeling in his chest was enough to render him silent, all before he let out a meek “I’ll call you later.”

Barney rushed out of the room, running past Kleiner in the process, nearly pushing him over as he approached the exit. “Barney? What’s going on, are you alright–” “They found him.” Barney’s voice shook as he spoke, with him barely being able to make out the words from how tight his throat was.

“Found who?”

Barney was already out of the building by the time Kleiner asked the question, leaving it unanswered.

Barney saw his own breath clouding in front of his face as he sprinted across the parking lot of the warehouse, nearly slipping on ice multiple times but not giving any time to care. When he reached his car, he swung the door open and crawled inside, starting the engine and speeding off without a single word. His thoughts ran through his head faster than his car was capable of going, slurring together without a single cohesive thought coming through. He didn’t care if he was a few miles above the speed limit; he needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. He needed to see if what his coworker said was right.

If it was truly Gordon Freeman that was brought into the ER, he needed to be there.

When Barney made it to the hospital lot, he rushed through the front doors, looking around before approaching the front desk, out of breath from both the physical and mental strain that was put on him. Through harsh breaths, he asked, “Is Gordon Freeman here?”, with pleading eyes focused on the woman behind the desk.

“Oh, hello Mr. Calhoun, I can look through the system for a ‘Gordon Freeman’, if you’ll sit tight for a moment.” She looked towards the computer in front of her, typing in something and looking through files as Barney waited, his impatience building up inside of him.

“Fuck this.” He pushed himself away from the desk, storming down one of the hallways despite the woman at the front desk telling him he wasn’t allowed to as he was off duty. Barney rushed past hospital workers, asking them if they knew where Gordon was, only to be met with worried and frightened looks along with no answers. Barney’s frustration only grew as he ran through the hospital halls, with the familiar building beginning to feel like a maze meant to confuse him. As he ran further into the hospital wing, he slammed against one of the doctors in the hall, causing him to topple to the ground as Barney tripped over his own feet.

“Sorry, I just have to–”

“Barney? What the hell are you doing back here?” The man questioned as Barney sped past him.

“I’m looking for Gordon Freeman,” Barney answered, turning around. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s in the ER right now,” The man snapped back as he slowly stood up. “You can’t see him until he’s out of surgery.”

“Surgery? Is he safe? Is he alright?” Barney questioned, walking closer to the doctor. 

“Yes, he’ll be fine, just…” The doctor let out a tired sigh. “Get out of here, you’re off duty and risking your job with a stunt like this.”

“I need to see Gordon, alright?” Barney explained. “He’s been gone for a fucking DECADE, and he’s been found again, I can’t just leave him–”

“Calhoun.” The man raised his voice as he glared at Barney with a look of both contempt and pity. “...Listen, just wait until he’s out and I’ll see what I can do, do you understand?”

Barney remained silent for a moment, letting out a sharp breath before nodding. “Alright,” He stated, defeated. “But he better be getting the best treatment in there.”

“I’m sure they’re doing all they can, they understand his reputation–”

“I don’t care about his reputation, if i’m right, that’s my goddamn friend in there.” Barney spat. “...Let me know when he’s out. I need to at least…make sure it’s…the right guy.”

“I’m sure someone will let you know.” The doctor stated. “...Now please go back to the waiting room before I call security.”

Barney did as he was told, reluctantly walking across the hospital premises and back into the waiting room, where he will stay for another few hours. He paced around the room, bounced his foot up and down, fidgeted with his hands; anything to try and pass the time as the minutes passed by agonizingly slow. After he had already been there for what felt like days within the timespan of a few hours, he saw a nurse walk towards him. “Mr. Calhoun?”

Barney’s head lifted up, looking towards the nurse before following her down a hallway. After a couple-minutes walk, they stopped in front of a door leading to a recovery room. “He’s in there,” The nurse stated. “He’s currently sleeping, so I ask you to be quiet and not attempt to wake him up.”

“...Yeah.” Barney hesitated before walking through the door, stepping into the room, seeing a curtain blocking his view of the bed. He paused, standing in place for a moment as he wondered if the face he was about to see was truly Gordon, or simply someone mistaken as him. He wondered if he wanted the answer, or if he’d rather live in ignorance, avoiding the crippling disappointment if it wasn’t the man he thought it was, but as he walked past the curtain, every worry in his mind ceased and his thoughts became silent as he looked at the man on the bed.

Sure, his body was covered with blood-soaked bandages, his right leg was in a cast, he had medical equipment around him, and he was missing his glasses, but his face was painfully recognizable. Barney choked back a sob, covering his mouth when he saw Gordon’s face again.

“Are you alright?” The nurse behind him asked, noticing Barney’s teary-eyed look.

“I’m fine.” Barney whispered before letting out a short chuckle and a forced smile. “It’s just…he didn’t change a damn bit.”

Barney hadn’t even noticed it had been an hour since he entered the room, being surprised when he glanced at the clock and saw it was nearing 10 PM. He sat on a chair beside Gordon’s bed, having moved it from the corner of the room to right beside it. His leg bounced up and down as he looked at Gordon, all before lowering his head and letting out a deep sigh. He wished to speak to him but he was out of words he could possibly say at that very moment, not to mention the wish to stay quiet so Gordon could recover without being woken up. He wanted to tell Gordon everything that had happened in his absence; how Kleiner started up another lab to continue Black Mesa’s studies, how Eli also set up one on the other side of the city, and how Barney had finished college and was able to become a nurse. Gordon missed so much, and even though Barney wished to dump every piece of information onto him, he realized that even the realization that it had been ten years would be overwhelming enough. Thus, Barney figured to start simple, and just talk, like friends, for the first time since the Black Mesa incident.

As Barney leaned back into his seat he felt the back of his head hit something that wasn’t there before, feeling bitter cold yet organic at the same time, like a corpse’s fingers curling around the top of the backrest. He swung around, half expecting someone to be there, yet he saw nothing of the sort, seeing only the beige wall behind him. Barney let out his breath, looking back at Gordon before realizing he should head back; his stress and emotional state must have made him paranoid, not to mention the feeling of his hair standing on end. He stood up, walking towards the door out of the room before taking one last look back at Gordon before he finally left.

Later that night, Barney paced around his living room, being watched by his pet rottweiler as he talked on the phone. “The Survey team were the ones that found him?” he asked.

“That’s what they said,” Kleiner stated from the other side of the line. “The Vortigaunt was apparently the one that found him, specifically.”

“I see.”

“Quite Miraculous,” Kleiner continued, “The fact that Gordon had survived there for ten years before being found.”

“Yeah…” Barney unsurely stated under his breath.

“Nevermind that, what are you planning now?” Kleiner asked. “Should we have some kind of party? A celebration should be in order for him being back, I’d say–”

“I think he needs rest, he’s…been through a lot.” Barney stated. “I’ve thought of him staying over at my place until he can find a place of his own or until he recovers, but we’ll see how he’s feeling.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure we can find a spare room in the lab for him.”

“I dunno if he’d wanna live in a loud lab with a headcrab, doc.”

“...I suppose you have a fair point.”

“It was just so…strange.” Barney stated. “They say it was a ten year coma, but I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it at all.” “What makes you believe that?” 

“The fact he was bleeding. The fact he had fresh wounds from Black Mesa,” Barney elaborated, brows furrowed and his free arm crossing over his chest. “Not to mention the fact he was found with that…suit on.” “What kind of suit?” Kleiner questioned. “Oh, do you mean the Hazardous Environment Suit?”

“Yeah. Why would he be wearing it ten years after the incident was already over?”

“Who knows,” Kleiner sighed, “I’m sure I can talk with Eli to see if he has any ideas on–” Kleiner was interrupted by a loud crash and squeaking coming from behind him, audible through Barney’s phone. “Goodness gracious, LAMAR, NO–”

“You alright Doc?” 

“I’ll have to speak with you later, Lamar got in the vents again–Lamar get DOWN from there, that’s not safe!” After that, the call ended, and Barney was left to himself once again. Barney sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket before he heard a deep ruff coming from his dog, who was laying next to the couch in the living room, with its white patches of fur on its snout showing its age.

“You hear that, Gordon?” Barney said. “You might get a new roommate…a…different Gordon.”

The dog yawned and rested his head on his paws as Barney walked towards the living room couch, sitting on it and resting his feet on the coffee table in front of it. He leaned over the armrest, scratching the top of the dog’s head. “Guess I’ll have to explain to him why you’re also named Gordon, huh bud?”

Gordon didn’t respond, instead just letting out a soft ruff again. Barney leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling before folding his hands on top of his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining why his pet was named after his friend, he realized. After all, it’s not very easy to tell someone you thought they were dead for years.

As soon as Barney received the call that Gordon was awake the following evening, Barney rushed back to the hospital to visit him once again. As he drove across the city, worries he didn’t think about before began to creep up inside his brain. Even though he didn’t necessarily believe the coma theory the doctors had, nor did he believe even they believed it fully, he thought of the possibility of it being true, and if Gordon would even remember who Barney was after a full decade of sleep. It would be a surprise if Gordon remembered anything after that amount of time, but Barney pushed down his pessimism, trying to be optimistic just this once.

After making his way down the hospital hallway once again, he found himself back in front of the door to Gordon’s room, with a nervous feeling deep in his gut as he prepared to walk inside. He took in a breath and stepped inside, looking towards the bed in which Gordon was laying on, only to have his gaze met by two bright green eyes, ones Barney hadn't seen since ten years prior. Barney froze in place, staring back at Gordon, who appeared to be surprised to see him. As Barney sat down in the chair beside the bed, he swallowed hard, wondering what he could possibly say now that Gordon was awake. As he thought to himself, a question left his mouth that he wasn’t initially planning on asking:

“Where were you?”

The question lingered in the air like a foul odor, with Gordon’s brows furrowing lip quivering slightly, all while he curled his hands into fists. He turned away from Barney, looking down at his feet, thinking of something to say, though his hands didn’t once lift up to sign a single word.

“You…disappear for 10 years without warning,” Barney continued. “Leaving everyone to believe you were dead.”

Gordon didn’t make eye contact with Barney as he spoke.

“I thought you were dead and buried somewhere, Gordon,” Barney choked. “But…You’re here in front of me now.”

Gordon glanced at Barney before he felt arms being wrapped around his shoulders, tight, but not too tight to make it hurt.

“I fucking missed you, Gordon.” Barney said as he hugged Gordon, feeling the gesture being returned to him. Gordon’s hands shook, feeling weak and cold, yet he didn’t want to let go of the single shred of kindness he had felt since what felt like eternity. After a few moments Barney let go, sitting back down with red, tear-filled eyes. 

“...You…missed a lot.” Barney stated; Gordon nodded knowingly in response. “I’d tell ya’ everything, but…I don’t even know how to start.”

“Are they safe?” Gordon’s hands were shaking, but Barney could make out the message regardless.

“Who, like…Kleiner? Eli?”

Gordon nodded slightly, lips pursed in anticipation. 

“They’re alright,” Barney assured, allowing Gordon to let out a breath. “In fact…they’re excited to see you again. Kleiner especially, he’s hoping to get you back into his lab…don’t know if you want to do that, but the offer’s there.”

Gordon appeared to have had a weight lifted off his shoulders at the news, but the cold yet somber gaze didn’t leave his eyes. Barney planned to tell Gordon that they were among the few survivors of the Black Mesa incident, but he bit his tongue for the time being.

“...Never thought you’d be in the history books, did ya?” Barney let out a lighthearted chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re a hero in everyone’s eyes, now.”

Gordon shook his head, looking down and away from Barney’s gaze as he clasped his hands together on his lap. Barney stared at him with a look of confusion and worry, all before forcefully clearing his throat. 

“I’m just…happy to see you alive, Gordon.” Barney stated. “After…a few years I began to…to lose hope.” Barney paused for a second, realizing Gordon was still not meeting his gaze. “...Should’ve known you were a tougher son of a bitch than that, I guess.”

Gordon scoffed slightly before shaking his head again, still staring at his feet. Silence fell as Barney attempted to think of something else to say to ease the tense atmosphere, though his thoughts were blank and void of any ideas. Barney looked towards Gordon yet again, seeing he was raising his hands up to sign something:

“Missed you too.”

Barney smiled slightly, despite feeling as if he wanted to cry right then and there. He never anticipated he’d be this emotional in his life, yet here he was; about to cry for the second time that day. Seeing his legally dead friend after ten years of being missing in action was enough to warrant it, he supposed.

“I’m sure the others will be happy to show you everything they’ve been working on,” Barney said, with Gordon finally looking back up at him, before looking directly behind him, “They’ve been working on a new telepor–”

Gordon flinched, staring at something behind Barney before attempting to crawl backwards, nearly ripping off his IV in the process. Barney looked behind him, seeing nothing but the wall before he heard a loud thud coming from the bed. He turned, seeing Gordon had fallen off of the bed and onto the cold linoleum floor. “Gordon!” Barney quickly ran to his aid, holding out an arm for Gordon to grab, lifting him off of the floor. When weight was put onto his right leg, Gordon grimaced, using Barney as leverage as he was put back onto the bed. “Jeez Gordon, what got you freaked out so ba–”

Barney was silenced when Gordon hugged him without warning. Barney could hear him quietly sobbing into his shoulder, and as he returned the hug, he wondered if he had ever seen Gordon so touchy before; It was as if he hadn’t had human contact in days. This time however, Barney wasn’t quick to let go. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his best friend behind again.

Not this time.

[wizzard890]

Hello! I'm someone who really enjoys makeup, but has recently in the past few years begun to view makeup and the makeup industry more broadly as something that is really detrimental to women. You seem to be in somewhat of the same position, and I admire your thoughts, so I was curious how you reconcile those positions or if you feel the need to reconcile them at all? Please ignore this ask if it's intrusive or weird lol

You can't reconcile them. You really can't. The beauty industry exists to churn out propaganda, inventing flaws and offering us fixes for a price, before moving on to the new (usually opposite, so you don't already have the tools) trend.

I'm in my thirties, I've seen the beauty industry turn into a nightmarish hydra that I never could have imagined as a teenager. The speed with which people create and zero in on new physical nitpicks, the ubiquity of filters and plastic surgery, that skincare (literally unless you have a specific ailment, a soft cleanser and nothing else will do you just fine) has become a lunatic self-flagellation in the name of some kind of nebulous Purity, just the endless chasing and chasing and chasing of that new thing that new miracle bottle, whatever will finally make you less disgusting for living in a human body. It's rancid. But it’s always been like this. Just slower.

And it's important to be intellectually honest about all this. The reason we think we look better with our lips a certain color, or our skin being a certain texture is because beauty culture has spent hundreds of years and trillions of dollars rotting our brains. None of this is real. You know that you find the people you love the most attractive when they're comfortable and bare faced and being themselves. Contour would change literally nothing about your feelings in that moment.

I enjoy makeup. I like gold eyeliner and deep berry lipsticks and a stain of blush. Why? Because I also have brain rot, and think I look Better with it on. You can't dismantle the entire wretched apparatus on your own, but you can be clear with yourself about why you believe what you believe. As my wife pointed out when I talked to her about this ask, even saying "I just like to decorate my face" doesn't hold water. You don't know what you natively like to do with your face, when it comes to beauty. You've spent your whole life marinating in propaganda. It gets into everything.

Due to my Ancient Years, I am no longer expected to be Young And Hot, which means I don't put on makeup on to run errands, and I don't feel like a full face is necessary to see friends or get dinner on a weeknight. I've started trying to treat makeup like I'd treat a pair of high heels: sometimes it's nice to feel dressed up, and in some environments heels are part of the dress code. Sometimes you wear heels to show your partner that you put in extra effort for them, or to make sure someone knows you took an occasion seriously.

Tellingly, heels also exist to fix a "failure" in your appearance.

It's like finding smoking sexy. Smoking kills you, unambiguously. And yet....it's hard not to feel like you'd be cooler if you had a cigarette in your hand. No one is immune to the manipulations of propaganda. But it is propaganda, plain and simple, and we shouldn't twist ourselves in knots to defend the lies it tells us, or try to make them ~praxis~. Beauty culture is exactly the same.

[coltermorning]

When Lightning Strikes Twice (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur pursue a treasure only to wind up switching bodies thanks to an unexplainable lightning storm.

Author’s Notes: This is probably pure chaos to read because of the pronouns but enjoy I tried my best :,)

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, high honor Arthur Morgan, bodyswap

AO3 Link

~

When Lightning Strikes Twice

Word count: 10876

The sun was baking the ground, the trees, everything it could reach. You included. It was a wonder the heat hadn’t caused an endless scape of brown to stretch into the horizon. It certainly felt like it should, like being an egg on a skillet. Your predicament wasn’t making things any easier either.

“Where’d you say this tree was?”

“Just down this way.”

You followed Arthur on horseback toward some kind of treasure. Hopefully. You normally wouldn’t give a moment’s thought to a map, especially one as ragged and torn as the one you had found, but Arthur mentioned he had found two that turned into treasure—gold. It was at least worth a look. Shit at tracking, you had asked Arthur to come along. You knew it would mean splitting the take, but if said take was as large as Arthur’s previous finds, it would be worth it and then some.

“Think the tree’ll have some kind of clue?” you asked, wiping the sweat from your brow. Your patience was running pitifully thin.

“Map says to go past it. I think I know where.”

Cryptic. Really, you didn’t know why you put up with him. That was a lie, you did—Arthur had become one of your closest friends. It was a bit of an odd pairing, him being so serious and literal and you being so easy-going. But the more you got to know him, the more you brought out that side of him, no matter how deep he tried to bury it.

“Oh, he knows where!” you said to your horse, patting its neck.

“Hush,” he grumbled, earning himself a cackle from you.

Sure enough, you soon reached the tree the map depicted, managing not to melt off your horse in the meantime. It really was unbearably hot.

Arthur stopped his horse next to the tree, studying it. It was definitely the right one—a low limb stuck straight out of its side as if someone had shaped it into an arrow, pointing the way. The bridge behind it was the same one depicted on the map.

“How’d you know where to find this?”

Arthur got down off his horse to get a closer look. “Told you. I get around, note my surroundings. Unlike you.”

“Hey, if I didn’t note my surroundings, we wouldn’t have this map in the first place.”

He chuckled. “Sure.” Circling the whole tree, he studied it closely before getting back on his horse. “This way.”

“Where to?”

He didn’t answer, and you had half a mind to throw something at him. But when he slowed again, pointing out another tree with a funny limb, you pursed your lips.

“Ah. One with the land, he is.”

“Would you stop talking to your horse about me? It’s unseemly.”

“Like you don’t talk to your horse.”

“I talk to my horse plenty. I don’t gossip.”

You laughed. “Sure you don’t.”

Arthur shot you a look before moving on, finding another tree, then another. The map showed the first tree in the foreground, a river beside it, and finally a group of trees that had been burned. So far, the latter two weren’t revealing themselves. That is, until you followed where the last tree had been pointing and found a river snaking by the hillside, sparkling in the hot sunshine.

“Think that’s the one we’re looking for?”

Arthur considered. “Has to be. See that rock in the stream there?” He nodded toward said rock, the same one depicted on the map, and your excitement took hold at the sight of it—maybe all this sweating and waiting would pay off.

You trotted past him before he could start, taking the lead.

“Where you going?”

“I don’t need you anymore,” you teased. “Go right on home, leave the real work to them as can handle it.”

“Like hell I am,” he said with a snort, catching up to ride alongside you.

After crossing the small river, your horses climbed the hill on the other side, coming out onto a worn path.

“That cluster of dead trees seemed to be on a hilltop,” Arthur offered. You looked ahead of you, across the path, to the steep hill that ran upward and nearly out of sight behind the trees.

“Up it is,” you said, leading again. This was a harder hill for your horse to take, but you were soon very high, overlooking the rocky landscape. There was a small settlement just south, one you had never come across before. The people milling about were wild for doing anything other than resting with this heat bearing down on them.

“Butcher Creek,” Arthur said, inclining his head toward it.

“Hm.” You turned, needing for this to be over. Needing to be back in camp with your head dunked in a barrel of water.

Climbing higher still, going north on a small path that snaked through the grass, the pair of you finally came out on the very trees the map depicted. They were all burnt and gnarled, without many limbs to speak of. As if something powerful had snapped them all off.

“Did a fire do this?” you asked, slowing your approach.

“Looks more like lightning to me.”

“Lightning?” As soon as you said it, you felt a shift in the air, a slight breeze where the air had been stiff as hot death a moment before. You looked toward the sky but saw no foul weather to speak of. Your horse still shifted uncomfortably beneath you, something it only ever did during said weather. “Strange,” you muttered, getting off your horse to follow Arthur.

He had approached the trees, looking between their deadened trunks for any sign of something left behind on the ground. There wasn’t much to look for—it was a tiny spot of land, very few trunks left standing in the small patch of rock and infertile ground.

“What are we looking for?” you asked him, knocking against the first tree you came to, checking for hollowness.

“I ain’t too sure. That bit on the back didn’t make much sense to me.” This meaning the back of the map which had a tiny scrawling of words on it. You tried to recall them from memory.

See the sight Utter the word With blinding light It will be heard

Arthur figured this was more nonsense than anything, but you hadn’t brushed it off entirely. “Utter the word,” you mumbled under your breath. Maybe there was a word carved into a tree. You began your search for such a thing when you felt that breeze again, the whispering touch of it making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You looked up when the wind began moving the tree leaves like a promise of an oncoming storm. But there was still a cloudless sky, the sun bearing down its relentless beat. If it weren’t for the trees moving, you would think you were going mad.

“You feel that?” You looked to Arthur.

“Feel what?”

“That wind.”

“Yeah.” Abandoning his crouching search of the ground, he stood tall, taking in his surroundings. “We’re up pretty high.”

“Still strange.” You looked over at your horse, the way it stepped around unsettled. “This may sound stupid but…lightning can’t strike unless it’s cloudy, right?”

Arthur shot you an unamused look.

“I’m serious. My horse never acts that way.” You pointed to it, drawing his attention. The animal was beginning to get beyond the point of wanting to listen despite Arthur’s horse standing firm beside it. It wouldn’t be long until your mount lost its tether to the ground and ran from whatever was giving it such a fright.

You made for it with hands held up and voice low. “Easy,” you hummed, trying to calm it. The closer you got, the more the horse tip toed away, the whites of its eyes beginning to show. And still, that strange wind picked up. “Easy there,” you repeated. It was useless. The horse finally got scared enough to move, stepping away from you.

“What’re you doing to it?” Arthur said as he approached. “You best grab the reins before it-”

The horse bolted before he could finish the sentence. “Shit. Hey!” you yelled after it. It had never acted so spooky before, especially not toward you. But there it was, galloping into the trees so fast you knew it would take Arthur’s horse to catch it. You set your hands on your hips and let out a sigh. “This treasure better be goddamn worth it.” You looked to Arthur, but when you did, something else caught your eye. Your horse had led you over to a new vantage from which to view the dead trees. And the gnarled trunks all fit together, almost like…

“Look at that,” you told Arthur, pointing to them. He turned, and the wind gave a bellowing howl. It was so strange, such a loud noise for such cloudless weather. Normally wind like that, a cold wind through all this heat no less, signaled rain. But you couldn’t focus on that, not when your heart began to race from the sight before you. “The trees. They look like- well…” Maybe you were reaching. You didn’t want Arthur to think you’d gone as crazy as your horse. But still, that poem on the back of the map talked about a word.

“I see it,” he said. “They spell…”

“Why.” You said it together. And the second you did, the wind drew back in a breath, as if in retreat. Then the sky exploded.

You cowered and fell, knowing nothing but deafening noise and blinding light, entirely disoriented. You held onto the ground beneath your fingers as the howl of wind was swallowed by a crack so loud it tore against your ears. Then there was heat, unfathomable heat. Scorching your skin and any remaining senses you had. Before you could even think to run for your life, all went black.

~

You moved your eyes around, not opening them. You hurt all over. So much that your entire body felt heavy. You tried to move but groaned in pain. Only, the sound that met your ears was entirely wrong. Your eyes shot open. And before you was…you. On the ground, feet away. Unconscious.

“What the-” You stopped dead at the sound of your voice. At how deep it was. “No…” You looked down to find Arthur’s shirt on your body. No. Arthur’s body. “What the hell?” Arthur’s voice came rumbling out with your every word. “I-” You couldn’t think of what to do. Couldn’t think. You fought through your pain and started crawling, heading for your body sprawled out on the ground. You were dead. You had died. From the looks of the burnt up ground, you’d gotten struck by lightning. But the sky remained relentlessly blue, so at odds with the horror of what you saw before you.

You finally reached yourself, unable to process how strange that was as you reached out with Arthur’s hand and touched your body. Immediately, you jolted awake.

“What’s- what the hell?” You could only stare at yourself, unbelieving, as your own eyes went wide at the sight of Arthur. Of you in Arthur’s body.

“I’m…” You were completely at a loss. How could you be alive in two different bodies? How could you be alive at all?

“You’re me.” The words coming out of your mouth…you had to think hard to come up with who was who, with what that meant.

“Arthur?” you asked lowly.

“How did this happen?” You looked unnaturally still when you said it. When Arthur said it. His mannerisms on your body were absurdly strange.

“I…” You could hardly fight the words out. You could hardly believe what you were seeing. Maybe you had died. “The lightning. The trees.”

At the mention, you looked to the dead trees out from under the brim of Arthur’s hat. They stood there as unassuming as ever, the cloudless sky as still as it had been on the ride up here, the scorching heat returned.

You heard Arthur turn to look at them too but didn’t watch, unsettled by the sight of yourself.

“How the hell did lightning strike us? It’s clear as a bell out here.” You had the sudden urge to laugh, hearing Arthur’s anger pour out in your voice. It sounded ridiculous.

“Beats me,” you answered. “How am I you? Why am I you?” You met your own eyes once more. And the feeling was still so wrong that you tried to stand just to have something to do with yourself. You were weak, like you had taken one hell of a beating. But moving was different. Arthur’s body was considerably stronger than yours. Finally reaching your feet, you looked down from a taller height, noticing every inch of how different you felt for the first time. For one thing, you were a man now. So that was how it felt, standing around with something between your legs. You shifted back and forth on your feet, getting used to it.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it.” You looked to yourself, to Arthur, and smiled.

“What?”

“Don’t move your hips around like that. It looks ridiculous.”

“What, like this?” you said, shaking your hips back and forth. The sheer weight of his body was an adjustment, your balance catching.

“For the love of-” He grimaced like he normally did, only it looked laughable on you.

“Don’t scowl like that,” you said, still smiling. “I never scowl.”

“Yeah, well, I do,” he said, standing. When he managed it, you did laugh, the sound of Arthur’s rare mirthful laughter piercing the air. You were so short. How had you never noticed how small you were compared to Arthur? “What?” he spat.

“You’re just- you’re so little.”

“And you’re an ugly bastard.”

“Hey! I am not. In fact, I’d say I look pretty good like this.” You posed with chin held high, knowing how much it would irk him.

You immediately felt his—no, your—hands on you as he shoved you. “Cut that out.”

Your grin widened. “Make me.”

You could tell it was taking all his will not to pounce on you. But even he knew it was useless, as tiny as he was probably feeling right now.

“Forget it,” he said with a dismissal wave. “How do we fix this?” He looked to the trees and made for them, trudging up the hill.

You followed, noting how large your stride was. How weird it felt to walk with something between your legs. “Who says we have to fix it?”

“I do,” he snapped. “I ain’t getting stuck like this.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, your words in Arthur’s voice sounding just as laughable. He would never say something so eagerly. “It ain’t so bad.”

“For you maybe.”

You stopped, crossing your arms. It drew his attention.

“What?” he said on a sigh. “And stop standing like that. You’re standing like a woman.”

“You don’t have to be so hateful towards me. I know being me isn’t all that grand, but you don’t have to throw it in my face.”

His expression faltered. Just barely. But you knew your own face well enough to spot it.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he mumbled, turning back to the trees.

You rolled your eyes. Then cracked a grin when you had a sudden idea.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove it. Let’s go a day like this, see how well you can handle being a woman in a man’s world.”

“No,” he said flatly, looking to the trees again. “Where’d that damn wind go?”

“Seems to have left,” you said with a shrug. “May be stuck like this.”

“This all just a joke to you, is it?”

“It’s certainly amusing enough. Remind me not to get too angry by the way. It’s more cute than it is intimidating.”

When he didn’t respond, you just smiled and turned, making for his horse. It had run a short ways away, likely when lightning had rained down from the cloudless heavens. If it had even been lightning at all. If it weren’t for you walking in Arthur’s boots, you would think none of it had happened in the first place.

You reached Arthur’s horse, the animal nuzzling your hand fondly, not recognizing you weren’t its owner. “There,” you said lowly, liking the sound of your deep voice.

“Hey! What the hell you think you’re doing?” Arthur shouted.

“I think I’ll go for a ride, see what a day in the life of Arthur Morgan’s like.”

“Are you crazy? You’re staying here until we figure this out.

“No, I ain’t crazy. And I’d like to see you stop me.”

Arthur’s hand twitched beside the gun on your hip, like it always did when he was agitated. You barked a laugh. “You gonna shoot me? Shoot yourself?”

“I’m fighting the urge.”

“Really,” you said, beginning to get annoyed. “It’s not that bad. Just give it one damn day, then we can figure this out, go back to being ourselves.”

“I don’t want to. And I don’t want you to. You’ll get me killed, parading around like that.”

“Like what?”

“Swinging your- my hips around. I’ll get shot on sight. Hell, your mouth’ll probably get me shot up if that don’t.”

“Your mouth’s about to get you shot up just fine,” you said flatly, mounting his horse. He was still far enough away that you didn’t have to worry about him catching up. “Enjoy finding my horse after all that lightning.” You smiled through his protests and kicked his horse into a run, riding swiftly away, no longer hampered down by the sweltering heat thanks to your newfound optimism and purpose.

Riding a horse was strange now, having to adjust to Arthur’s heavy-set body. When the town of Van Horn came into view, you were relieved for two reasons, the first being that you’d managed to stay in the saddle. The second rendered you unable to contain your smile. How different it would be to waltz up to the bar, to know other men eyed you with intimidation instead of perversion. Well, maybe waltz was a bad word. Arthur was right about that much—you had to do a better job of playing the part or risk getting him killed. Getting yourself killed. But you had known Arthur long enough to know how to imitate him well enough. All it took was a grimace and averted eyes, walking like you were a bow-legged cowboy. How hard could it really be?

A half hour later, you got your answer. Being a man was the easy part. Being a man like Arthur was where things muddied. Apparently, he drew attention to himself just by being. He was a big guy, and no doubt unfamiliar in these parts. A few nasty looks in your direction was all it took for you to keep his hat slung low over your eyes. No wonder he did that so often.

“What say you and me go have a little fun?”

Never having heard a question like that directed at you, it took you a beat to realize the woman by the bar who said it was asking you. Or Arthur.

You looked to her, trying to hide your surprise. “Maybe another time.” You were almost sure you’d heard Arthur say that before. But it didn’t stop the color from rising to your face.

“No need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. I’ll treat you real gentle.”

Sure she would. Oblivious to who hid under Arthur’s skin all the while. “No, but thank you.”

“Uh huh,” she said tauntingly. “You just let me know if you change your mind.” She walked away, and her words suddenly had your mind turning furiously. What would it feel like to have sex in a man’s body? Just as the thought reached you, the saloon doors slammed open. And in walked you. The sight still made you uneasy.

“You,” Arthur said, his tone in your voice drawing the attention of a few of the other patrons.

One whistled. “You better run, partner. I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of that gaze.”

Arthur heard this and shot him daggers too. It was much less intimidating on your face than his, but it shut the man up all the same. He walked straight to you and took your arm. “We’re leaving.”

You yanked it away. “Hold on, now. I just got here.”

He stepped in close, still so much shorter than you that you almost had to duck to hear. “Don’t go making a scene,” he hissed.

“I ain’t,” you said quietly. Then, leaning back on the bar, “Besides, I got a new friend over there.” You held the woman’s eyes who had called out to you, smiling in that charming way Arthur could.

“Quit it,” he said, drawing your attention back to him. “Those women’ll eat you alive.”

“Maybe I’d like that,” you mumbled, just loud enough that he heard.

“Are you insane?”

“No,” you said, turning around to face the bar, speaking lowly so no one would hear. “And like you ain’t thought about it.”

“About what?”

“About sex. About how it would feel in my body.”

You swore you saw a tinge of redness on your own face. But Arthur charged through his embarrassment like a bull. “No, I ain’t thought about it. This ain’t my body to do what I please with.”

You scoffed. “Now isn’t the time for chivalry, my friend. This is a once in a lifetime gig. You really want to waste it?”

He sighed, tugging on your arm, pulling you toward the door. “Come on.”

You gave in, knowing it was better than letting Arthur cause a scene. As much as he liked to claim you would be the one to do it, you knew damn well it would be him attracting all the attention. And now that he was sporting around a woman’s body, he could slap you as hard as he liked without consequence. You weren’t about to give him the chance.

“Where we going, then?” you asked when you passed through the swinging doors. Your horse was hitched beside Arthur’s, calm once more. You went up to love on it only to see the animal cut you a sideways glance, pinning its ears. You had momentarily forgotten. “Give my horse a little love, would you? Doesn’t like other people.”

“Pipe down with all that,” Arthur spat. You rolled your eyes. Like anyone in this town would ever have the brain power to realize you and Arthur had switched bodies. “Here,” Arthur said, feeding your horse a treat and giving it a few pats on the neck. “Now then, I say we head back to figure out where that wind came from. We don’t know how long we could be stuck like this if we leave it be.”

You groaned aloud then stopped yourself, knowing how wrong it sounded coming from Arthur. “Why you gotta be so uptight about this? Let’s let loose, have a little fun.”

“I don’t think you’re getting how serious this is.”

“I am. It happened. And it could just as easily un-happen. Relax, would you?”

He sighed in frustration before lowering his voice. “You want to be me so bad? Fine. But I’m getting a room and locking you in it so you don’t get us both killed.”

“I won’t get us killed, Arthur. Since when don’t you trust me?”

“Since you decided to parade me around like that,” he snapped. “Since you started making eyes at other women. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

Like hell you didn’t. “Fine,” you said, storming away from him. Your longer stride had him struggling to keep up with you as you made for the mail courier.

“Where you going now?” he asked, your voice taking on a desperate edge.

You didn’t answer, treating him like he always treated you. It was enormously satisfying.

You stepped up to the window and asked for a room, throwing your money down on the counter. It took one look of your pointed anger for the man before you to cower. Damn, did you wish you could make people shrink like that on a regular basis. You rounded, pushing through Arthur like he wasn’t even there. This body had its advantages. You were beginning to understand why Arthur wanted it back so badly.

You stole upstairs and pushed in the door. You were halfway to slamming it in Arthur’s face when he caught it, your own fragile little hand catching on the edge.

“Excuse me?” he said, pushing through it and shutting it behind him. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“You,” you said, sitting down on the bed and turning away from him to shake off some of your anger. “Treating me like a damn child. You never do that.”

“I’m not- I don’t mean to be that way. There’s just…a lot at stake.”

“Yeah, your precious body. I get it.”

“No, it ain’t that.” He sighed, an exaggerated sound. He didn’t talk for so long you looked at him. He had your hands resting on your gun belt like he always did to his. He finally met your eye and said slowly, “I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

You scoffed. “What, with that woman back in the saloon? Arthur, you know I’m not that stupid.”

He hesitated. “So you didn’t…”

You narrowed your eyes. His eyes. “Seriously?”

“What?”

You shook your head, turning away again, getting one of Arthur’s guns out to admire it. To take your mind off the idiot at your back. “I’d just turned the woman down before you got there. If that’s what’s bothering you.”

“That’s not…” Arthur said, trailing off. Obviously not wanting to breach the subject of you using his body for your own pleasure.

You relieved him of the burden. “Just drop it. I’ll stay here locked up like a good girl, and we’ll go figure this out in the morning.”

He had the audacity to laugh, and you shot him a sideways glance. He was smirking, your mouth angled upward sharply. “For the love of god, don’t call yourself a good girl in my body. It sounds ridiculous.”

You couldn’t help the corner of your mouth turning upward in response. It was comical how different you were, the glaring differences coming out in speech and mannerism and thought.

“I am a good girl,” you grumbled, and he told you to quit it while laughing outright this time. The sound of your own laughter was strange, like something you had only ever heard muffled before. Now that it was clear and unobstructed, it was smooth. Pretty. It made you smile.

Arthur pointed to the weapon still in your hands. “Put that away, would you? Don’t want you getting any ideas.”

The small weight in your hands was so strange—you had held one of Arthur’s guns before. His were much improved from a regular Cattleman and heavier as a result. But his hands swamped the weapon now, and it felt as light as your own as you cradled it, the power in your hands alone remarkable.

You tucked the gun back in its holster, laying back on the bed. Well, attempting to. “Shit.” You looked to your feet hanging over the edge.

Arthur chuckled. “Move up some. You’ll get used to it.”

You did as he said before eyeing him. He had nowhere to sit.

“You, uh…can sit, or…”

He waved you off. “I’m fine. Thinking about going for a beer. You want one?”

You lit up at that. “You ain’t locking me up then?”

“Oh no, I definitely am. I meant I’ll bring one back for you if you want.”

You scoffed, turning away. Even that slight motion had the bed groaning beneath you from the weight of his body. “Forget it.”

He just laughed, like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“You know, you’re damn lucky I listen to you. Otherwise I’d be down at that saloon with my tongue down some poor girl’s throat by now.”

You met his eye just quick enough to see the blush on your face he tried to hide. “No you wouldn’t.” He was right. You weren’t that kind of woman, really. But such a dramatic change had rendered you enlivened, if a little reckless.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, turning away again. “Bring me a beer then.”

You heard the door snap shut and closed your eyes, noting every inch of unfamiliar body lying flat on the bed. You felt a sudden surge of jealousy so harsh, wishing for a heartbeat you had been born a man. Then again, that might have been because you were attracted to men. Enamored by their muscled bodies, their strength. Arthur was certainly those things. You had never quite thought of him as someone you were attracted to. Partially because he was such an annoying fool, but mainly because you had never allowed yourself to think it. Your friendship was a good thing in a hard life, and you didn’t want to wreck it. That didn’t stop you from wanting to explore every inch of his body.

You let that thought swirl away before it could do any damage, thinking instead of how exactly this had all come about in the first place. A lightning storm in broad daylight. You had no doubt it was what the little poem on the map alluded to.

See the sight Utter the word With blinding light It will be heard

The lightning had struck the moment you and Arthur said ‘why.’ The only thing you couldn’t understand was how on earth that rendered your consciousnesses switched. Maybe that was the joke—the why of it all. Whoever had penned that map was a cruel person indeed.

How you hadn’t died upon contact was another thing entirely. Almost as if the lightning had never really existed in the first place. Maybe you were imagining it all, still knocked out cold on the ground. Or dead. That soured your mood enough that you went back to thinking about Arthur’s body. At least it was a more pleasant thing to consider.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you reached downward, skimming against coarse muscle all the way down. Christ, did he have to be built so powerfully? Years of work and being on the run tended to instill strength in a man, but this was ridiculous.

You brushed those thick fingers of his against the top edge of his pants, hesitating, debating touching what you really wanted to touch on him. It would be overstepping, you knew. The man had a right to some privacy. But god, did you want to know what every aspect of being a man felt like. Desperately. So you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching down, touching the still clothed part of him that immediately reacted to the contact of his heavy hand. Reacted in a way that made you loose a breath the very second you heard the door handle turn. You panicked, scrambling to throw your too-long legs over the side of the bed and sit up. You watched your body step back into the room, Arthur’s suspicion edging onto your face when he saw how quickly you had moved.

“Forgot to…get my money from you,” he said with narrowed eyes, nodding toward the satchel wrapped around you.

“Oh,” you said, entirely too eager to use the excuse to move and cover your blunder. You reached in his satchel and fingered through countless things you couldn’t put a name to. The bills were stuck in the bottom and you dragged them out, handing them over in a too-clenched first. Arthur eyed the money, then you.

“What?” you asked. You knew better. Really should have stayed quiet.

“Why you acting so funny?”

“I’m not.” You prayed it came off as relaxed, though you couldn’t be sure how it would look on Arthur’s face.

“Really?” he said, entirely unconvinced. “Why’d you jump a mile when I came in then?”

You felt your face heat. You looked away, tipping his hat down to hide your blush.

“I know that move,” he said accusatorially. “Tell me.”

You took a long breath, not knowing what the hell to say. What could you? I was in the middle of touching you, Arthur? In the middle of doing something you just told me you wouldn’t dare do to my body without permission? It was wrong, and you knew it. You couldn’t tell him.

He broke the silence, stepping toward you. “Tell me.” It was every bit Arthur, that commanding presence he held coming through your own voice somehow. It made you cower further, if that was even possible. It was…ungodly attractive, him wielding your body like his very own weapon. Demanding.

The thought had your blood rushing downward, much like it did in your own body. But this was different. This was all-consuming, blocking all thought. And when his manhood began to strain against his pants—your pants—you panicked and spoke.

“Forget it,” you said, still hiding your face, trying to calm yourself down. It was impossible. All you could think about was the need building within you, worse than you’d ever felt as a woman as it couldn’t seem to be reversed. You didn’t know how obvious it would be to adjust yourself in front of him but felt the need to. Or else he would notice exactly what was plaguing you before you could say another word.

He stepped toward you suddenly, and you moved to wave him off. “I’m fine, I-” Too much movement. Entirely too much. Your pants brushed against you, and you grew harder still. Goddamn did it feel so strange, so different, but the desire to make it go away was getting hard to fight off. You knew why too, and you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, though the thought flashed through your mind anyway—Arthur’s body. This was Arthur’s body, and the fact that he was so aroused somehow turned you on. Which in turn resulted in your predicament worsening every second. You let out a shaky breath.

He laughed, the sound out of place enough for you to finally meet his eye. He was staring at your pants, at his own crotch. He knew.

“Dead to rights, I’m afraid,” he said. “I weren’t gone a minute. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Shame filled every inch of you. “I didn’t- it’s worse now than it-”

He held up a hand, making your words fall away. “Save it. I ain’t mad. Should have figured, really, how you were talking at the bar.”

“I’m sorry,” you said desperately. “It’s your body, like you said. Ain’t up to me to do as I please with it.”

He chuckled, that charming smile of his somehow working its way onto your face. “It’s fine. You’re just…” He shook his head. “As I said, I should have figured. You being you.”

You normally would have jumped at him over saying that but couldn’t, not when your words were suddenly lodged in your throat. Because he was fine with this. He was okay with you touching him. And the thought had more arousal than before consuming you, enough that your focus was blurring between him in your body and you in his.

He started. “I’ll, uh, leave you be if-”

“No, don’t do that,” you said in a panic.

You watched a smile curve up the side of your face. “What, can’t keep your hands to yourself when I’m away?”

“God, don’t talk like that,” you breathed.

“Why? Turn you on?”

To keep your jaw from dropping, you grabbed his hat and rammed it down farther, hiding your beet red face behind it. Christ alive.

He laughed and moved to the door. “I’m gonna step out. Do whatever you need to, I don’t mind.”

“No.” You were firm on that. You had already overstepped once. You wouldn’t do it again. No matter how much you wanted to.

You looked over at him. He stood at the door, your body so calm and still like only he could make it. He looked at you expectantly, and you realized he was waiting on you to say something, to explain.

“Can you…” You couldn’t finish that question.

“Can I what?” His smile was wicked, your face carved up with it.

“Jesus, Arthur, why do you have to make this so hard?”

“Make what hard? You?”

There was nothing within arms reach to throw, but if there had been, he would already be ducking. He sensed this and kept talking through a laugh. “All right, all right. Relax. I’m just needling you.” He stepped closer. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Make it go away.”

He smiled, smugness mixed with a bit of shyness. “I can make it go away all right. But…you sure you want that?”

You panicked slightly. You meant go away as in help calm yourself, not help find your release. But now that he was offering…

“Yes,” you said, so quietly his low voice almost didn’t speak it. You couldn’t believe you admitted it, uttered it aloud.

He gave you a long, unreadable look. Then, after long enough that you were holding your breath, “Okay then.” He stepped forward slowly, his sheepishness finally seeming to catch up to him. “You want…me to show you or…”

Your heart thrummed. “No.” It was in that very moment you knew what you wanted. That it became glaringly real between you—finding your pleasure not only as Arthur, but with Arthur.

You reached for him and were pulling your own body down on top of you before you could form another thought. He made a noise of surprise, but you didn’t hesitate. Not when the weight of him landed atop you and you had to resist the urge to buck your hips into the newfound pressure.

He couldn’t say a word before you crashed your lips to his, keeping your eyes shut tight all the while. You didn’t want to think about kissing your own mouth, only that this was Arthur you were kissing, that maybe you had been wanting to do this all along. Under more normal circumstances.

He broke away. “You…”

“Just shut up,” you said, the low timbre of Arthur’s voice rumbling through your chest as you pulled him to you, kissing him so forcefully his hat fell off your head.

He pulled back again, unable to resist running his mouth. “This is…so strange.” And it was. It was odd to feel yourself against you, but you couldn’t care. Not when this was Arthur’s body reacting so sensitively to it. You wanted to touch yourself, to feel how to wring each ounce of pleasure from him. But you didn’t—couldn’t—because you had pulled him down on top of you, and Arthur started moving back and forth against your thigh. It drove you wild.

You looked down and watched as he propped himself up, making your mouth fall open in his pleasure. Maybe it was because you knew exactly what that would feel like rocking against him, but you felt your—his—cock twitch in response, straining. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You used your newfound strength and flipped him underneath you, surprised to feel how weightless you were under his touch. You laid against him and moved. And god, was it your undoing.

Your mouth found his as you kissed him unforgivingly, grinding against him. The immediate arousal was unshakable. Lightning to the touch. Winding you up so tight you groaned, the sound coming out ragged and deep.

“Easy,” he said, your own breathy voice sounding right into your mouth. “If you want to last, that is.”

That made you hesitate. “You want…me to-”

“Do what you want, I’m just saying,” he interrupted. That was a terrible answer. Because it left it up to you. And as it stood, you wanted to feel each and every way a man could pleasure a woman.

“You sure?” you asked softly. And Arthur’s voice saying those words…

“Yes, I’m sure. And faster than this. Your body has needs too, you know.”

You kissed him, biting his lip for the cheek. He let out a low moan in return.

You continued to grind against him but held yourself up with one strong hand, trailing your fingers down his skin. “I can teach you something about those needs,” you said lowly. Every caress of Arthur’s aroused voice on your ears sent grating pleasure shooting downward.

You moved down and tore your own gun belt away, then your pants, knowing these were the pair that were baggy enough to do it. You made to pleasure your own body beneath your underthings, to make Arthur squirm beneath you, when he spoke.

“I know how to pleasure a woman just fine-” You had brought your thumb down on your clit. And Arthur let his head fall back, his eyes shutting tight. Your thumb was now noticeably bigger, but that didn’t stop you from knowing what to do with it. You dragged it around torturously slow, making his—your—chest heave and fall. You brought your mouth down to your clothed nipple. Normally, this would feel like an odd thing to do, but for some reason it seemed like any other thing. You didn’t care that it was your body. You cared that it was Arthur you were showing all this pleasure to. Arthur taking it all, Arthur helping you find an edge you were dangerously near.

You sat up and tore the rest of your clothes away, leaving him completely bare. You watched as Arthur looked down, admiring you. His head fell against the bed once more as he groaned softly, his hand moving toward your entrance. You wanted that so badly his cock strained again. You wanted to watch him touch you, watch what he would do to you.

You bent down and pressed a kiss to his arm in encouragement. Then he brought his hand low, finally running his fingers along right where you wanted him to. The image of you touching yourself was doing something to Arthur’s body you couldn’t contain. Wild, unbridled need. But that was Arthur’s mouth going slack when he felt your wetness on his fingers, Arthur reveling in how you felt because of him.

You let him do as he wanted and kissed him again, wanting to feel him against you. You knew better than to move your hips against him now—you were wound tight as a coil, and doing so would end this quickly.

He broke away from your kiss, having to take a breath when he began pumping his fingers in and out of you. You went for his neck instead, kissing and licking and mouthing. You wanted him to find his pleasure, wanted him to feel what an orgasm was like in a woman’s body for the sole reason that you could bring him to that precipice over and over and over again—something he couldn’t do quite as fast being a man.

You took his mouth again, demanding. Wanting to work him up into an irreversible need. You knew just what your body craved and knew how to get him there. So you refused to let him away from your mouth, especially when you brought your hand down to drag his own away, using Arthur’s fingers instead. They were bigger, and he let out a moan right into your mouth when you sunk two in at once, right down to the knuckle.

He was trying to breathe, trying to keep his head, but you kept kissing him, pushing his head down into the bed in your fervor. You pumped your fingers in and out slowly, dragging them against your walls just like you liked it. You wished you could feel this yourself, his thick fingers inside of you.

He mumbled something incomprehensible, so you let him take a breath, pulling away just so.

He was a flustered mess. His breathing was heavy, his eyes were blown wide with desire, and damn it all if you couldn’t see Arthur below the surface. Because you could, his mannerisms making you want to take him then and there when they sprawled across your face in deep need.

“What was that?” you said, curling your fingers just right, dragging them slowly still.

“You’re gonna…make me…”

“Come all you want,” you told him. He groaned. You kissed him once more, your tongue tangling with his.

You knew yourself well enough to know you were close, but this wouldn’t get you there. So you quickened your pace, pressing deeper, his beautiful fingers doing more than yours could.

He was panting then, something you didn’t normally do. All Arthur, his pleasure on the brink. So you let his mouth be and ducked your head, latching your mouth around your own nipple in a way that had his back arching. You ran your tongue against him, a slight scrape of your teeth. All the while, you fucked your fingers in deep and fast. Then faster. Then harder. Until you noticed his hands had clasped around your veined forearm, holding on for some kind of tether to keep him from losing himself entirely.

You worked your breast with his tongue, scraping a demanding pull against it, and he snapped.

He let out an exasperated noise somewhere between a feminine moan and and all-out groan. Definitely Arthur. You had never made that noise in your life. The lines between you were blurring.

You released your hold on your breast and watched him, watched your face screw up in pleasure in a way that only he could make it look. You kept pace, using your hand to work him over thoroughly. And you suddenly understood how good this was, making a woman reach her pleasure first. Waiting, basking in this, it was the perfect thing for you right now in the needy state you were in.

He moaned and panted and moved against you but took it all, wanting it all. How strange it must feel, after years of a man’s pleasure. How much more delicate and precise it was.

You finally brought your hand away, smirking at him. “How was that?”

“This was supposed to be about helping you,” he said breathlessly.

“And?”

“And that was goddamn perfect.”

“Good. I do know my own body well. Which is why this,” you said, setting the pad of his thick thumb back to your clit. He squirmed, still coming down from his high. “Is going to make you see stars.”

You moved your thumb, and he let out another groan too deep for your voice. You swirled fast shapes, criss-crossing against that sensitive nub. He was panting and writhing and trying to get away from your touch, and you boxed him in and held his lower body down. It was harsh pleasure, enough that you could almost feel it yourself. You certainly wanted to, if you ever got your body back. Now he knew the ropes. Or you would happily show them to him a second time.

In half a minute, he was so close that you got your balance right and plunged the fingers of your other hand inside, pumping fast as you worked him with your thumb. He yelled this time—actually yelled out his pleasure. And it was your own high-pitched moan that filled the room, something rougher about it. Baser. You continued your abuse of him until he was writhing to get away, whining each breath.

“There,” you said low, his own voice making you ache with desire. You slowed down your pace before finally withdrawing your hands.

You knew what came next, and you were…well, nervous. You knew what your body liked, but this next bit would be your own pleasure swallowing you whole. In an entirely unfamiliar sense.

He heaved in each breath, eyes heavy-lidded. “You’re telling me…you can feel that…as many times as you want.”

“Back to back,” you assured him. “I can make you do it again if you-”

“No,” he said, grabbing your hands to be sure you wouldn’t. “No,” he said more calmly. Then, “Your turn.”

He turned, forcing you to lie on your back. Your nerves flared when you watched him reach for your clothes. But just as you had, he knew what he was doing with his own body. You just got to sit back and watch.

He didn’t bother undressing you entirely, just stripped his satchel and gun belt, unbuttoned his pants and pulled them back along with his undergarments. And you watched with bated breath as he prepared to touch you for the first time, or touch himself, and god, you couldn’t think which was hotter. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was when your tiny hand finally wrapped around his cock. The touch alone was enough to send pleasure through your veins so severe you knew you would have to pace yourself. Then he grabbed your hand, pulling it down slowly. He wrapped it around that impressive length of his, now so achingly hard you had to clench your jaw, and wrapped his own hand around yours. Guiding you.

“Move slow,” he said quietly. His words drew your eyes, and you noted him straddling you before your gaze landed on your small hand around his big one, beginning to stroke his cock together. The sight alone would be your undoing. But the feel of it…

Your head fell back with that image branded into your memory as you stroked yourself. He guided you in pressure more than pace. And you understood better how to keep from hurting a man, being too harsh or too rough against his skin. It was hedonism. Where a woman’s pleasure was finicky but explosive when found, a man’s pleasure was immediate. Constant. Unbearable.

You groaned aloud. Arthur was quieter, less forceful than you had been with him. You couldn’t tell if it was because his body preferred it that way or if he was nervous to bring you to that edge. Either way, it was…torturously good.

He guided you along a little faster, making deep, long strokes all the way down to his base. That was where it felt the best. You tucked that piece of information away. He went faster still, and you pulled your hand away to keep your climax at bay, making him stop and look at you.

“I…want to do this proper.”

His eyes glittered with arousal. You didn’t know how he would feel about it, being on the receiving end. But you wanted to bury his cock so deep inside you he would cry out from it. That much you knew.

He took a moment to answer. Then, “If that’s what you want.”

“What do you want?” you asked. “You’ve been quiet about that.”

He thought on it. Then climbed over you, lining your body up with his. “You really wanna know?”

You nodded, the anticipation eating you alive. For his touch and his words.

“I want my body back. So I can show you all this pleasure myself.”

You clenched your jaw again, your breath quickening. Lord above, did you want that. So much.

“Me too,” you said quietly.

“Really?” he asked, his hand finding you and lining you up with him.

You tried hard to keep focus and watch him as you nodded. “Maybe I…have for a while.” And you had been too damn stubborn to admit it to yourself. Too worried about friendship and lines crossed.

He hesitated. “Me too.” He said it quieter than you had.

Without leaving you any room to answer, he sat, the feeling of pressing into him unlike anything. Your mind went numb. Blank. You looked down and watched where your bodies met, watched him hesitate for a breath before sitting fully, throwing his head back in pleasure when you were joined completely.

Again, it was different. Whereas you would have only wanted him as deep as possible in your body, every inch of you was overcome with feeling now. It was grating.

Arthur started a pace that was much too fast for all you were feeling, so you brought your hands to his hips and slowed him down.

“Move like this,” you whispered, helping him grind slowly back to front, so that his cock never left that sweet spot deep within you.

He fell forward, chasing his pleasure. Then slowed to look at you, almost apologetically.

“It’s okay,” you told him. “Find your pleasure first. I won’t stand this for long.”

It was true. You wanted to bury his cock deep, spill in your body. The thought alone made him twitch.

Arthur continued his brutal grind, making you groan so deep you worried you would come. But you held yourself back, barely. And he was making smaller movements, slowing, taking all of you in a way you knew meant his release was nearing.

You wanted to touch him again, kiss him, but you let him be. You knew how good it felt just the way he was circling his hips and nothing more. So you resisted, and you watched as your own mouth fell open in deep pleasure. Arthur came a third time. It wasn’t like the others. He came around you this time, the smallest tightening and fluttering of those delicate muscles of yours making you hold your breath so as not to find your own pleasure. He was soon panting, moaning, beautiful little sounds. Sounds you wanted to make for him.

He finally stopped, leaning back. “My god.”

“What?” Your hands moved from his hips to his ass. That was an odd thing—almost like Arthur’s body had wanted that, not you.

“Just…different. Perfect.”

You smiled at him, keeping your patience held by a thread. Still buried deep in him, that was quite the task. He seemed to realize this and looked down at you, and before you knew you wanted to say them, words came tumbling out of you. “I want to know what it feels like to…find my pleasure inside of you.”

He scrunched your eyebrows together in an expression only he ever made.

“Just this once,” you whispered.

He was silent a moment. Then, “You sure about that?”

“I’m willing to risk it. If you are.”

He thought again, eyes studying his own mouth. Finally, he met your gaze. “All right then.”

You felt the smile creep over your face, your giddiness returning. Faster than he could react, you had lifted his hips, pulling him off of you. He made a small noise at the movement—one you knew well, the feeling of loss of touch a bitter thing—but you were too busy moving him underneath you to care. You laid him softly on the bed, taking a moment to see those eyes of yours on you, before getting up. You started stripping his clothes away, needing to finish this completely bare. You brought his shirt away first, the broad chest beneath such a handsome sight. Then his boots and socks, then pants. You couldn’t get his layers away fast enough, and when you were standing there staring down at yourself completely bare, you hesitated. His body was beautiful. His strong legs, his lean muscle, his cock pressed up against his belly. You couldn’t resist—you took his length in hand and began stroking him. It was so good you held back a groan. You looked up to crawl back onto the bed but found him watching, an expression of such greedy want on your own face that you couldn’t resist saying something. “Like watching me do this to you?” you said lowly, making your strokes longer, more noticeable.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving your hand around his manhood.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered, crawling back over him. Needing him now. “When we get our bodies back, it’ll be my own hand wrapped around you.”

He moaned. You laughed, the sound low and sensual. Finally, you were lining yourself up with him, the head of his cock pushing against your entrance.

He brought a hand to your shoulder. “Slow.”

“You keep saying that,” you teased, pushing into him. You wanted to be quick about it, to fuck him senseless, but you would do as he asked. You sank into him to the hilt, buried deep. Even though you’d just felt it, it was so good you stopped a moment, taking it in. You brought your head up and gave him a soft kiss, holding his eye for a breath. Then you moved. God above, was the pleasure insurmountable when you moved. Your walls wrapped around his cock so tight you kept letting out involuntary groans.

“Goddamn,” you breathed, bringing one hand to his hip, one to the back of his thigh. It took everything in you to keep the pace slow. Tortuously slow.

Arthur was not without his own pleasure too. His breathing was labored, the sounds he was letting out not unlike the ones you usually made. It made you want to slam into him, make him come around you again.

“Arthur,” you groaned. In warning. He didn’t answer. “Please let me fuck you.”

“Think you can handle that?” he said. Always a damn tease.

“Yes, you bastard.”

He laughed, the sound so like his own for it being in your voice. “Do it then.”

The second he said it, you pounded in deep, making him cry out. Making you grit your teeth. It was so good you couldn’t stand it. You quickened your pace and thrust into him hard, finally allowing your orgasm to build. And build. And consume you whole. You knew nothing but pleasure, like it was a part of you, as you fucked him harshly. You felt his balls go taught, his cock so hard and so sensitive inside your slick that you were letting your own noises work their way into Arthur’s voice.

“Fuck,” Arthur breathed. Then he cried out, and you only knew he reached his pleasure for the familiar way your body went rigid, arching into his. You pounded into him, riding him through it, finally flying over the edge. Your orgasm overcame you in a rush of burning pleasure as you felt his spend spill deep inside. You slammed into him, unmoving. It was the best feeling you’d ever known. All of it drawn out right where you needed it most.

You held there breathlessly, pressed against him so intimately that the moment seemed frozen in time. But there he was, a mess beneath his own body. Because of his own body. Your cunt greedily taking his spend like it was meant to be there.

You groaned at the thought and pulled out, collapsing on your front beside him. So overwhelmed you just breathed, in and out. To remember what fucking planet you were on.

You closed your eyes, listening to his heavy breathing beside you. And after a moment, you were staring at the ceiling. No, you hadn’t moved. You opened your eyes and turned over, and Arthur was staring at the ceiling. That was off-putting. Like you had been yourself again for a heartbeat. You closed your eyes again to see if it would have the same effect, but nothing came to you. Only darkness and the after effects of one demanding high. That was strange too, different. How differently the male body worked, even the come down settling within you deep and constant. Maybe that was why women could bounce back so fast, men needing time to do it. In fact, you even felt tired, like nothing would suit your more than a good night’s rest. Arthur was likely the same. You had made him find his pleasure four times. Four times. You allowed yourself to wonder, just for a moment, if he could do that to you himself. You knew your own body well enough to get you to that place, but now he did too. You were willing to bet if this ever happened again, each of you in your respective bodies, that it would be just as mind-blowing as this had been. Maybe better.

“You okay?”

Your own voice was soft, careful in the dim room. From timidness or from tiredness, you couldn’t be sure.

You opened your eyes to find your face staring back at you, gaze heavy with satisfaction.

“More than okay.” You closed your eyes again. You wanted to be saying those words to Arthur. To his face, not yours. “You?”

“Hell, okay doesn’t cover it. That was…”

“Yeah,” you breathed, the word deep and drawn out. You adjusted yourself, facing him. “I’m sorry I sort of…forced this on you.”

He met your eye again, his own careful expression shining through. “You didn’t force anything.”

“I really did. But, you did too, cornering me like that. You just had to know what was wrong, didn’t you?” you said, grinning at him.

“I’m always that way,” he countered. “What’s your excuse?” He was the one grinning now.

You didn’t have a retort to that, knowing full well there wasn’t one. You had wanted him. Plain and simple.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, and you gave him a small shove for it. It was a little too forceful coming from his strong hand, but he didn’t seem to mind, laughing at you instead. “You like being me, huh? Get to show me who’s boss, shove me around. Pin me down and such.”

The and such part was definitely a plus. But he was wrong about the first part. You met his eye, emboldened by his confidence. “I’ll get my body back, and we’ll see who’s boss.”

“Will we now?” he said, meeting your eye with a mischievous gleam in his own. As a woman, you would have wanted to wipe that gleam away, to climb right back on top of him. But you were tired and satisfied now, and some small part of you still ached from that lightning strike. All you wanted was to curl him against you and sleep.

“We will,” you said, turning and closing your eyes again. For the briefest of seconds, you were looking at Arthur’s relaxed face. Then you came to, still facing the ceiling. If you couldn’t get settled in one body or the other, you would go mad soon.

“What are we gonna do about this?” he asked.

You hummed, not quite in a mood to talk about it now. “Leave it for the morning.”

He chuckled beside you, his laugh through your voice. It was soothing in a way that had you drifting, somewhere between restfulness and sleep. You stayed like this a long time. He eventually said something else, something about lightning, but you gave in to his body’s want and flung over the edge of unconsciousness, unraveling into thought and darkness alone.

~

You awoke to a warm body beside you. The memories of the day prior came flooding back like a tidal wave, slapping you into alertness. You jerked up to find yourself looking at Arthur. He was looking back, those blue eyes studying you, a smile below them.

“Welcome back.”

You were in your own body. You looked down—still naked, and wrapped up in Arthur’s arms. “I…” You didn’t know what to say.

“I woke up like this too. Myself, I mean. Seems the little lightning strike had a shelf life.”

You couldn’t believe…it couldn’t have been that easy. It couldn’t have all been real. More than that, this couldn’t be your closest friend holding you in his arms.

“You…that did happen, right? I’m not insane?”

He chuckled, the sound a perfect one coming from him this time. “No, you ain’t. Or else we both are.”

“Shit,” you said, turning onto your back. The strangeness of it all…it overwhelmed you. But that didn’t stop you from noticing where Arthur’s hand had landed after your movement. On your bare belly. You looked down at it, and he must have noticed, because his fingers started running circles against your skin, low enough that a familiar heat began building within you.

He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “What was that you were saying about when we got our bodies back?”

The male smugness in those words…

You pulled him down atop you, kissing him hard. It was everything you wanted, everything you had been lacking the night before. The desire had been there, the mutual need, but this was different. Perfect. It was him atop you, him running his hand down your body, him wanting you as normal as ever. Nothing standing in the way. And you nearly smiled against his mouth at your next thought, when those strange trees crossed your mind—you would get struck by lightning ten times over just to be in his arms. To be you. To be exactly what he wanted.

[terrence-silver]

I'm feeling pretty blue today - what would CK Terry (or any TIG characters you feel like writing about!) to do earnest, sincerely cheer up someone they love?

I wish you lots of elation and happiness. Hope these help. ❤️

---

― When Jan Valek met beloved he already knew it'll be a moment he'll memorize and cherish for the rest of eternity. He already knew beloved will be something or someone that'll bring only true goodness into his life. He equates them to the light of the sun he and his kind were bereft of for centuries. He equates them with everything that's still noble, genuine, warm and sweet about humanity at large even though he doesn't view other mortals in the most of favorable light exactly. He has this incredibly exalted and romantic opinion of them, so, oh, the idea they'd ever feel blue about anything when he puts them all the way up there with the stars --- well, it strikes him. It is like witnessing a beautiful flower being sad about something; it cannot be conceivable because it isn't the flower's intended purpose in the grand scheme of creation. He's all affection and worship, collecting every tear from beloved's face with his lips and fingers, hugging them to himself with both hands and hiding them in his cape. He coos them. Caresses them. Hides them. Reminds them that in his infinite glory, God didn't create them for moments of sorrow. He's created them for joy. In fact, such is the depth of Jan's comfort and consolation of beloved that it telepathically revibrates through the entire coven and all his children feel it too. Beloved's not only loved, they're embraced. He remains with beloved instead of retreating underground when daytime returns, finding some dark, concealed place where he can hold them for as long as needed, time truly being meaningless to him. He could do this for decades if decades was what it took. Centuries, even, if need be. Ultimately, he waits it out with beloved and his arms around them don't unclasp until he literally senses their blood, scent and pheromones sing out with a change of mood before beloved themselves even realizes that they're no longer quite as upset as they were before.

― Terry McCain would downright willingly and tactically make a fool out of himself it meant beloved will simply...oh...you know...crack a smile for him? Why is that? Well, when you're a hardened, hot-headed Chicago Detective who has a tendency of taking things too far, to the point of utilizing excessive force during investigations and arrests, the sensitivity training doesn't really come all that naturally and so he counter-acts this by goofing around, in ways, even if that means getting beloved an adopted fuzzy pet out of the blue, enduring a scolding even when he doesn't give them space to breathe because he wants them to tell him what's wrong or waiting in front of their locked apartment door for hours when they want to be left alone, notwithstanding the fact he's also likely to just, you know, break in. He will be nosy. He will be invasive. He will employ his own professional deformation and investigate to get to the bottom of beloved's bad mood in the off chance they refuse to tell him, but one thing is absolutely certain; He will never, ever, ever leave them alone during this bad time, even risking being ridiculous and possibly overbearing doing so. Which means beloved can expect a takeover of their own life during the period of their depression. They wake up, they find McCain prepping up breakfast, wrapping his oversized coat or scarf around on a cold evening walk, tucking them in next to the fireplace and being fully domestic, threatening to knock some joker's teeth if the cause of their upset came from another person, or hey, he might just jokingly bring up doing so to deliberately appear like some dangerous wiseguy and hopefully amuse beloved through his antics. He'll try so many things that statically, something's very likely to just entertain beloved enough, even if begrudgingly, to have them snort through their nose with laughter at him faced with a funny anecdote from his First Communion.

― Gus Travis is paranoid and he is convinced beloved's current bad mood has something to do with him and taking it a step further than that, he gets this agitated impression that their depression is a prelude to an array of more serious underlining issues that remain yet unspoken; like them wanting to leave him or at least really seriously pondering it just about now. That they're deeply unhappy by his side and if he doesn't do something now to prevent it, history will only repeat itself and he'll lose someone he loves. Again. Would he really survive that crap twice? He doesn't think so. All the signs are there, after all, with his past bad experiences only further exacerbating the issue to the degree that depending of how blue beloved is feeling and for how long, Gus might just take it as far as really seriously telling them they should leave. Run away together. From this life. From his associates. From his gang. His syndicate. Sever all ties to them. Cut loose. Break out on their own. Turn a new page. Start a new life elsewhere. Far, far from here. Head out to sea on a boat if they have to. Not say anything to anyone. Pack up the basics. Hop in their car and go. Just go. Meaning that Gus Travis is genuinely probably willing to quite literally erase everyone and disappear if it could potentially bring contentment to beloved and ensure that they'll stay together. Just the two of them. Man could very well be halfway through the State of Washington on an escape spree before the conclusion might arrive that he did not, in fact, have to practically run away to make beloved happy. A kind word would've sufficed. Maybe a hug. But, Gus is a man of aggressive impulse, with an impassioned, streetwise nature to boot. His dryland mermaid is sad and he's expected to just...handle it in stride without shooting someone in the head? Yeah, no. Before anyone puts two and two together, Gus and beloved are too far gone to ever be found, headed somewhere that is bound to make them happy.

― Terry Silver does anything to cheer up someone he loves. And I do mean anything. Therein lies the danger of someone he cares for being even slightly upset or depressed, because he'd stop at nothing. There's no boundaries. Nothing is too ridiculous. No such thing as 'too far'. And no, I don't just mean throwing excess money and acts of service on a problem until it goes away --- I mean, he'd literally abuse someone to make beloved laugh. He'd hurt someone. He'd hurt whoever hurt them; whoever he feels fucked up their sunny disposition because trust and believe he's ready to have an enemy. Just point at one. If you don't, he's capable of inventing one himself. Throw an expensive car in the mix, sure, as a cherry on top of a cake. Does beloved want real estate? A company? A private island? Do they want him to buy out half of Los Angeles? Do they need a lavish vacation to fix their mood? An encouraging pep talk worthy of a Sensei? Should he knock someone's teeth out while they watch? Should he avenge them to remind them just how adored they are? Should he kill? Drag someone's bruised and beaten body and drop them off at beloved's feet as homage like a devoted blood hound would? Should he fuck beloved? Please, kiss, lick and work their body until their physique registers it as happiness? His mind will be working overtime --- the gears in his brain spinning and spinning and Terry will be likely to cheer himself up at the prospect of all the things he could do. He giggles and snickers as he plans. It is honestly just safer to tell this man what it is likely to make you content so he can go ahead and just do it for you because if his mind wonders too far in its deviousness, he'll do some pretty unhinged things in the hope it'll cheer beloved you up. But, point here is; he'd do just about anything, yes and beloved will probably never be as upset and in need of uplifting that will ever match the distance Terry Silver is willing to go to uplift them.

― Going to go out on a limb and saying Cash doesn't immediately know how to cheer up beloved or anyone as for that matter because this is simply not something he ever frequently does or has to do. His line of work or lifestyle doesn't exactly demand this of him --- in fact, even when he himself's in a gloomy mood, he merely fixes it with a quick beer and just shutting the heck up about it until it goes away. But, just because it is underexplored, new territory for him doesn't mean he doesn't care to the point he's thrown off of balance, pacing back and forth around the room, absolutely exasperated, an annoyed hand in his hair, feverishly thinking of what he should do, his mood sinking to dark depths right alongside beloved. He doesn't sleep. He doesn't talk. Doesn't do anything. He can't think straight. He's capable of spending days in front of beloved's room, just sitting there like a watchful warden in a state of limbo, waiting for a single word from them, a sign, a signal, a hint, anything that could indicate they're doing better now, and until he gets that, he might as well rot into the arm chair he's nestled into for all he's concerned. Cash takes whatever's going on very much to heart even though it isn't outright visible or easy to immediately tell at all times, but one order out of beloved's lips is enough to put him into action there and then without a single bit of protest out of him. If beloved said 'Rob a bank. It'll make me happy.' man outright would do just that entirely wordlessly. He'd be there getting his gun, gloves and mask ready, making the necessary phone calls, gone within the hour and already back home by the time they've woken up from their daily depression nap. He cares immensely. He doesn't always know how to express it or act on it, but even when beloved's in an infinitely better mood it'll be days and even weeks before Cash wholly recovers from whatever it was that bothered them, even if he doesn't really talk about it.

― Jack Blaylock, or rather, Timothy Calloway sits down and genuinely talks to beloved about it. Yes. Talks. Although never doubt this man too would be prepared to go to some truly harrowing lengths to merely see the slightest shadow of a smile on beloved's face, I get this impression he fixes them a warm beverage, makes them a lovely, intimate meal for two and tucks in by their side on a cozy, quiet evening instead, the lights of the city sparkling in the distance through the windows because civilian problems require civilian solutions and beloved's a civilian, first and foremost; so, he approaches their sadness in a way he knows they'll respond to best psychologically, not wishing to frighten them with promises of knives, blades, guns, murder, carnage, gore and all the things he'd do to anyone or anything that would ever make them sad or encroach on their happiness. He tells them anecdotes. Tales from his travels. All the places he's been. Seen. Spirituality. Past lives. How this is all unsolved karmic baggage and in few days time, it'll seem like a distant matter that'll only grow more foggy as time passes but that he's here, interconnected with beloved through countless past lives, feeling every bit of dejectedness they themselves might feel. He's here to face the fray with them because they're soulmates and that's what soulmates do. It is genuinely the most intense and eye-opening conversation beloved's ever had. One of those goddamn near live changing chats that seem a bit dream-like and slightly haunting and strange the next day but beloved truly does feel better afterwards because Jack will literally talk them out of their sour mood. Of course, has to be said that there's a disturbing factor to all of this because it is almost like Jack saw into beloved's soul and just about scraped off whatever was bothering them singlehandedly. Was there something in the coffee he's made them? Something in his general air and manner, how he knows to handle people? The sex they had afterwards? Beloved cannot tell, but they do feel infinitely better.

[rayslittlekitten]

Distraction

A/N: So a while back in a discord discussion, the idea of Benny nailing someone shorter than him and literally having them on their tip toes somehow got brought up and I took the challenge. This went a bit in a different direction that I had initially thought it would, but I'm happy with how this came out. This takes place after Triple Frontier. Thank you @lovebarefootblonde for taking a look at this for me!

Rating: E (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Benny Miller x F! Reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Plot: A hot quickie turns into a vulnerable moment for Benny.

Contains: sex (P in V), bathroom sex, size kink, angst, comfort, allusions to canon events

One of the disadvantages of being shorter than Benny is that sometimes it can get tricky when you're both in a spontaneous mood and in an inconvenient place to get frisky.

"Can you like, tip toe up a bit--"

"Benny, if I tried, I'd literally be on my toes like a fucking ballerina," you whisper loudly, trying to look back at him. "And I ain't no ballerina."

You and Benny are over at Will's place for a small get-together. It would be the first time you're meeting some of his friends. Up until this point, you've only heard about them so it was nice to finally put some faces to their names. 

Benny's been sending you sexy texts throughout the gathering and the exchange got a little too hot so he pulled you into the bathroom for a quickie. You're bent over the bathroom counter, with your dress hiked up to your waist and your panties pushed to the side and your boyfriend is squatting down lower to try to penetrate you. 

"I can't fucking do this," Benny mumbles. "My thighs are giving out."

You figured with all the squats and burpees he does all the time, this would be one of the reasons they would pay off.

"What the hell, Ben?" you huff. 

"I've got an idea."

Benny grabs the back of one of your knees and hoists it up so half your body is on the counter and you're spread out on the edge. Your other leg is practically dangling and you're balancing yourself on the tip of your shoe to prevent yourself from falling. There's only so much counter space you can hold on to. Benny tries again and you stifle a moan when you feel him successfully slip himself inside you to the hilt.

"Shh, we gotta be quiet. Will's going to lose it if he finds out we're fucking in his bathroom," Benny reminds you.

He grips your hips and holds you in place on the counter before carefully moving in and out of you, testing the sturdiness of the position. You bite your bottom lip, feeling him fill you up over and over again, but you need more. It's been a month since you've seen your boyfriend and missed him. The details were vague, but he took a trip with his brother and some friends. It was supposed to only be a few days, but he told you that whatever he was doing was going to take a little more time before he could come home. You were worried, but knew that if he was with Will, he would be okay. His big brother always looks out for him. 

It's clear he missed you too because when he came home, all he wanted to do was fuck you. You've only been dating for about a few months and are still very much in the honeymoon phase so that's not surprising. You very much enjoy sex with him, but there was something different since he got back. He seems a bit distant and distracted. 

In fact, at the party, there were times where the ambience in the room seemed to be a bit somber. You heard the name "Tom" quietly thrown around a few times but don't know much about him except that he's a friend of the group and Benny looked up to him, but anytime you tried to ask Benny about it, he said everything was fine or would change the subject. 

Benny punches his hips into you, causing the edge of the counter to dig into the top of your leg.  You yelp when your head bangs against the vanity mirror.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry," Benny apologizes quietly and eases up on the thrust. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah," you nod and put a hand against the mirror to gain some control.

Benny starts moving again, gentler this time. You can sense him struggling to hold back. You don't always have rough sex and understand you can get carried away in the moment, but he's been favoring it much more these days. You try to push back in your limited position, but it's just throwing off his rhythm. You happen to glance up at the mirror and see Benny's reflection. His eyes are closed with knitted brows and he's concentrating. On what, you're not exactly sure. Controlling his strokes? On holding off his orgasm? Imagining someone else? 

"Benny," you call out for him. "Look at me.”

His eyes spring open and make eye contact with your reflection.  

“You’re with me, right?” You ask.

“Yeah, of course,” he answers.

”Sorry, I’m just trying to get you off first,” he admits. “But I promise I’m here, with you.”

He leans in and leaves a quick kiss on your cheek before going back to fucking you, watching your face in the mirror as he moves in and out of you.

“Fuck…” you pant. “Fuck me, Benny.”

You see his eyes go dark and he starts drilling into you. You squeal but quickly catch yourself. Benny pulls your hips back a little to change the angle and you feel the edge of the counter rubbing against your clit through your underwear as he thrusts into you.

You press your hips against the counter to get better stimulation. Benny finds your spot and starts poking it with the head of his cock. You’re getting dizzy from all this, as your orgasm is quickly building.

“Harder,” you tell him.

“You sure?” He asks, still looking at you through the mirror.

You nod. “I’m so close.”

“Remember you gotta keep quiet,” he reminds you. 

You nod.

He plants both of his hands on the counter on either side of you and starts pounding you hard. Pounding that’s going to leave bruises on your hip bones. You swear the thin bathroom wall is rattling along with the cup and toothbrush sitting on the counter every time Benny shoves himself into you. You hope no one outside can hear anything.

The tension in your gut is tightening and without warning, snaps. Your jaw drops open and you let out a silent scream as your orgasm floods your body. Benny’s own release follows shortly as he grunts into your ear. As you both ride out the tail end of your climax, Benny relaxes his body over yours while catching his breath with his face in the crook of your neck. 

You reach up and run your hand through his sweaty hair. He pulls away from his hiding spot and glances over at you in the mirror, looking over your shoulder with a chunk of hair draping over his eye.

“You okay?” You ask him.

He nods and he almost subtly nudges your ear with the tip of his nose before kissing your shoulder. He pulls out of you and you both clean yourselves up. When it sounds like the coast is clear outside the door, you reach for the doorknob but Benny pulls you in for a hug. He holds you close and tight against his body. You sense him quietly crying against your shoulder, hunched over. You don’t say anything and simply reach up to stroke the back of his head, massaging your fingertips into his scalp and letting him release whatever has been eating up inside of himself.

[mandobatemans]

Hii !! I don’t know if the requests are open or not but I wanted to know if it's possible to have an imagine with William Tell with a lot of fluff. This man deserves the world (ignore me if you mind. take care!)

William Tell x gn!reader

warnings: i literally know nothing about poker

word count: 667

A/N: this ended up being more like headcanons about you & william's relationship, but i hope they're fluffy enough!

•while traveling for various poker tournaments, william would never personalize anything. the rooms he stayed in were impersonal, the food he ate bland and dry, and he slept only because he had to

• once you were in the picture, though, he started letting himself get more comfortable in the places he stayed

• initially, he kept the hotel room wrapped in white fabric, but over time, you convinced him to uncover the lamp…, then the desk…, then the chair…

• he hadn’t felt it necessary to open up to anyone or anything besides his journal, but you were so easy to talk to, and more understanding than he ever could've imagined

• he didn’t tell you everything right away, though. he’d share something of his past at seemingly random moments, like in the dark of a hotel room before bed, or while walking hand-in-hand in a city parking lot

• every piece of information he told you, he expected you to leave him. but you never did. you just listened, and reassured when appropriate

• he loosened up in other ways, too

• where before he would eat only because it was necessary to survive, you taught him to indulge

• “c’mon, we’ll share a dessert. you look like a man who needs a chocolate cake”

• he put on a stern face, but gave in

• your smile was contagious

• if you smiled, he couldn't help but smile

• and you were always smiling at him at poker games, your legs crossed in one of the chairs for spectators, surrounding by the drunk people, old people, or both of the various casinos

• nothing could break his focus while playing, but you surely came close

• after he inevitably won the tournament, you'd convince him to take a hot shower with you back at the hotel (new for him, he had been on a strict cold shower regime since military prison

• you liked to wash his hair for him. initially, he shrunk away from the intimacy of it, but it ended up becoming his favorite part

• even in bed, you liked to absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair, a touch he came to covet and crave

• he had never been with anyone as affectionate as you, much less had anyone so affectionate in his life

• you were raised to be open about your emotions, so you told him that you loved him long before he could even begin to try to say the words

• and you knew this and were okay with it. you just loved him so much that you had to tell him

• and he needed to hear it

• you always wanted to have his hand in yours, or your body pressed against his

• it took him time to get used to this, the thought that someone loved him so much that they wanted to be connected to him emotionally and physically

• with time, he began initiating touch, also finding himself wanting to be physically close to you

• he taught you how to play cards with you propped on his lap, his hands guiding yours over which cards to turn over, which to keep and which to discard

• he’d kiss your cheek and praise you when you start to get the hang of it, and smile and start over when you don’t

• “mm, wrong move,” he’d tease, “here, honey, we’ll try again”

• cards are what he knows and he wants to share that with you

• come to think of it, there are many things he wants to share with you

• he wants to pour out his whole soul to you, and he will, little by little as he gains the tools he needs to

• however long it is, he knows he wants to be with you for the rest of his life

• he just needs to gather up the courage to tell you that

[niehaused]

So about that scene in WN where Beatrice is reading that journal entry to Ava...

I’ve only watched Warrior nun once this weekend, but I went back to rewatch this scene in particular and, there is just SO SO much to unpack from the suitcase this scene dropped on my lap 

1. Ava being like daamn she's translating straight from french that's hot (ava is someone who has effectively so far, missed on her entire life, missed on the most basic stuff walking, sensory tactile daily input, socialization outside of abuse. So she's truly getting to know and see and experience everything for the first time, she is hungry for living and knowing and finding out. So in this sense ofc it makes absolute sense that she'd be attracted to Beatrice who is pretty much a walking library, she's attracted to her on an instinctual level from moment one, she's just not rationalized yet that she is, but the magnetism is there) 

2. Ava repeating the word lesbich, because ofc her golden retriever brain would be like hey I know a whole new word and in a foreign language how cool is that?!! While also being painfully unaware that that word carries so much weight and pain for Beatrice and must be likely cringing internally to have the object of her affection just throwing the word around like it's nothing 

3. Ava's 'yeah she did!'. Once again reaching only an initial level of analysis and being excited because the nun in the story is a bada$s who just won't put up with abuse, cause in her eyes that must be literally so cool therefore violence and retribution is righteous. 

4. And then being crestfallen when she's notices Beatrice strong reaction to the whole story, then she's capable of grasping a deeper level of understanding of everything that's behind. It's not just retribution, it's hatred and fear and abject pain. She gets a glimpse of the other side of the coin, what the nun in the story/Beatrice deals with. A blinding rage, and overwhelming pain. It's not justice driving the sword, it's trauma. Her facial expression switched in seconds as does her approach to the rest of the story. 

5. Now she's able to see a connection between the warrior nun in this journal and Bea, she knows it is something primal but still can't put her finger exactly on what, yet she can feel that an immense pain is the thread that weaves both the story and Bea's visceral response to it.

6. Bea's realization that she's isn't the only one, she's not the only gay warrior sister. Up to this point I'm sure she must have felt isolated even inside her religious community, which became her family. They know who she is, but they don't know her completely. But there was someone just like her, through time, even at the distance she's not alone,  and she can also reach that feeling of being fully herself and at peace (I’ll forever wonder how Bea related to Shanon and Mary about this specific point). 

7. Bea being pissed at Ava's obliviousness. Ava being so close to the central theme of the story but still failing to connect they last final dots, which would save Bea an enormous amount of time working to an admission or confession of her love (which we actually didn't get, only after Ava was gone. Not even when Ava kissed her, not even when Ava took the leap and actually said I love you. Bea just wasn't going to be able to take those steps on time), if Ava could just realize by herself what Bea is feeling for her... But she doesn't and then Bea snaps because rly ava?! C'mon work with us here. 

8. Bea's gut wrenching admission that she became an academic overachiever to compensate for being gay. Now this is actually personal to me and I'm sure to most of the queer community, we've been there. Bea at some point literally felt she had no value as a person, only through discipline and excellence in everything she does :’(  she probably still feels that way, up until meeting Ava.

9. Bea dead a$s saying: 'What (who) you love, what (who) should make you happy only brings you pain'... while looking directly at ava.... Ava, sweaty, darling, honey baby, adoptive child of literal divine light, god’s chosen champion... my sister in Christ. Bea is pouring out her bleeding heart, looking straight into your eyes, admitting that even tho she loves you and you make her happy, you bring her pain. And in so many ways, as a christian believer/nun who's been told her whole life that being gay means your are doomed and automatically going to super hell, as a young queer woman who has gone to the almost ultimate stage of self denial of herself and her sexuality by becoming a nun, as a sister warrior entrusted with the safety of the halo bearer, as Ava’s very first and actual close friend, as a gay mess who’s trying so hard to keep her feelings on check because her relationship to Ava involves literally the world’s salvation and she has no idea if Ava is exclusively straight/or remotely queer. I cannot even with this specific exchange pls. This pained me on a molecular level because I was transported to my crush on a girl I met at bible camp when I was a prepubescent. (Yes I was at one point and against my will, an uncool christian nerd I’m no stranger to christianity and its multicomplex traumatic interseccion with queerness). And I still to this day wonder what became of Irene my Bible camp crush

10. Ava (despite not reaching the full understanding of the situation that Bea would like her to have) is emotionally smart, so whatever it is that's bothering Bea so much, she'll offer to listen to her, and if she isn't ready to do so, she can wait; but in the meantime she'll make damn sure to let Bea know that Beatrice isn't just 'barely acceptable', nor 'simply enough'. She is seen, she is full, whole and beautiful.

I did NOT need to have Beatrice thrusted upon me, introduced only to be taken away like this. I was living just fine without this knowledge, but yet here we are 

[cloudcountry]

because you would do the same

Genre/Tropes: You already knoooow it's hurt/comfort!!! Panic attacks!!! The whole shebang!!!!!

Summary: You're having a panic attack in the school bathroom, and Ortho finds you. Good thing Idia installed all that helpful medical software, huh?

Author's Comments: Hello this is my anxiety disorders having ass writing about panic attacks again!! There's a lot of self deprecation happening here so be warned if that could make you uncomfortable. Also descriptions of panic attacks obviously AJSHDJAS I tried my best to put the feeling into words. THIS IS PLATONIC.

~~~~~

Everyone knows that the ideal place to have a panic attack would be the bathroom. It’s usually pretty empty during classes, and there was no way anyone could see you when the stalls were blocking their view. Your only concern was what the people on campus with sensitive hearing would pick up, but since the classrooms were farther down the hall, that shouldn’t be an issue.

However, you failed to account for the singular robot wandering around campus.

“Hello? Prefect?” Ortho chirped, the bathroom door slamming shut behind him with a dramatic thud, “Is everything alright?”

You immediately silenced your hyperventilating as best you could, curling in on yourself. Your eyes were wide as you watched the stall door nervously, praying he’d give up and leave you alone. As he shuffled around just a little ways away from you, you realized that no, he wasn’t just going to leave because you didn’t respond. Ortho was always dead set on helping people, so all you could do to not burden someone with your problems was to clenched your eyes shut and wished for him to go away even harder.

“Prefect, your heart rate is abnormally high. You’re exhibiting higher respiration rates and shortness of breath. My systems are telling me you’re either in a panicked state or you’ve done some intense exercise.” Ortho mused, “If anything is wrong, you should tell me! I want to use my various medical functions to help you!”

Great Seven, you felt like throwing up. There was too much going on in your head and Ortho’s voice was only stabbing at what was left of your mental stability. You knew he only wanted to help, but there was literally nothing he could do when it was hot under your skin and your brain felt like it was getting doused in icy water and your stomach was seizing and cramping with every breath you took. You rubbed anxiously at your thighs, chest heaving with each repressed, shuddering breath you let out.

“Prefect, it really doesn’t sound like you’re doing well! Are you perhaps too weak to open the door?” Ortho asked, “Commencing door breakdown program!”

“Please don’t.” you choked out, “Please, please don’t.”

“Hm, would you like me to try a different method?” he hummed thoughtfully, “I can start a breathing exercise program, or I can take the door off of it’s hinges instead of shooting my laser-”

“Please just leave me alone.” you begged, “I just want to be alone.”

A moment of silence.

“I can’t do that. Your vitals are still irregular.” he mused, a loud clunking sound from the other side of the door only worsening your unease, “I’m obligated to help those who show signs of distress. That’s what my brother programmed me to do!”

You could feel your breath speeding up again as the sound of a drill filled the bathroom. Ortho wasn’t kidding - he was actually unscrewing the door. Panicked, you pulled the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands and dabbed at your eyes. Man, why did everyone in NRC have to butt their noses into other people’s business? Ortho was sweet, but you really just wanted to be alone right now. It wasn’t that hard to understand.

The door tilted towards you as the last screw was released, and you jerked back as it began to fall onto you. A small robotic hand caught the edges of it, pulling it back and turning it towards the sinks. A cheerful Ortho set the door down on the ground with another loud thud, his hovering replacing the irritating drilling noises with a gentle white noise.

“Now, what’s wrong? I can help you!” he chirped, zipping over to you with wide eyes and hands clasped in front of him.

You said nothing, ducking your head in hopes that he would just give up. With your red eyes and dry mouth and heaving chest, he’d be able to pick up every single visual cue that you’d been struggling with. Weak, weak, weak.

“Your eyes seem red! Were you crying?” Ortho hummed as he stalled for a moment, which you could only assume was him gathering information, “The inflection in your voice indicates that you are emotionally distressed. Were you having a panic attack?”

You shook your head frantically, lips screwed shut. The sharp pain of nails digging into your thighs was the only thing keeping your swirling whirlwind of thoughts from causing another round of hyperventilating. The soft whirring of Ortho’s hardware felt like incessant screeching in your ears as you tried to gulp in air.

Weak, weak, weak!

“You’re not weak!” Ortho insisted, as if he could read your mind (and man, you hoped he couldn’t), “You’re really strong! Can you count with me, Prefect? Do you think you can do that?”

Can’t even handle a panic attack by yourself! No wonder you were so useless!

“In…out! In…out!”

Twisted Wonderland would be better off without you, you were only here because there was no place with you back in your world. Nobody here needed you either. EVer since you came people have been Overblotting time and time again. It’s all your fault. You don’t even have magic…how long were you going to spend dragging Ace and Deuce into your messes? What about Grim? He would be better off on his own-

“Prefect?”

Great Seven, you couldn’t be more useless. There was nothing you could do right. Nothing. You ended up worrying Ortho too, and now he’s distracted trying to help you. Get up. Get up!

“It’s fine, Ortho. I’m sure you have better things to take care of right now. I’ll be okay.”

Except you couldn’t speak through your sobs.

Useless.

A cold breeze brushed against your warm, tear striped face. For a moment, your brain felt like it’d been dumped in cold water as your breath stuttered.

“Please take a second to cool off! Drink some water, too! We can try breathing again in a minute.” Ortho smiled, pushing a plastic water bottle into your lap, “Please drink. It doesn’t have to be a lot.”

You hiccupped as you brought your hands to the water bottle, fingers shaking like leaves in a hurricane. The breeze you felt was actually a fan Ortho had produced from his arm, a function that would have made you laugh in any other circumstance. Ortho said nothing as you unscrewed the cap (it seemed like Ortho had already opened it for you, the saint) and drank. The water felt like sludge as it slid down your dry throat. Your brain still felt all hot and prickly, but your breathing had calmed down just a bit.

“Good job! Do you think you can breathe with me now!” Ortho cheered, eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiled.

Why was he so proud of you? You couldn’t even do the bare minimum.

“Ready? In…out! In…out!” he chanted, coaxing you to keep breathing with gentle head rubs. “That’s it! Good job!”

Your brow furrowed at the praise, a sinking feeling in your gut building with each kind word. You shouldn’t be getting praise for doing the bare minimum. What you were doing wasn’t impressive at all.

“You’re working through the panic really well, Prefect.” Ortho hummed, “Just keep breathing like that. Do you think you could point out one object of each of the six colors of the rainbow in this room for me?”

Of course he would have more coping mechanisms.

‘You’re…blue.” you choked out, staring down at the floor, “Um…my socks are red, the soap dispenser has orange soap, the…door is green, my bag has a purple pencil in the side pocket, and…your eyes are yellow.”

“You’re right! How do you think you’re feeling right now?” Ortho tilted his head downward, trying to catch your eye, “Your heart rate seems to be gradually slowing to a normal rate.”

“Um…I’m sorry for taking up your time.” you apologized, fingers wrapping tighter around the bottle, “I didn’t mean to distract you from whatever you were doing. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you don’t have to apologize! As long as you feel better, that’s all I need!” Ortho chirped, dropping a small hard candy in your lap, “I hope your day gets better, Prefect! Please tell me if you need anything.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” you mumbled, guilt crushing you like a brick.

“Prefect…you would do the same for me and my brother.” Ortho patted you on the head again, and it was only when he started massaging your scalp that you noticed the absence of the cool air being blown your way, “So don’t sweat it. I know you think it’s different when it's you, but it's not. I promise! You deserve a safe space just as much as the next person, magic or not.”

You could feel tears bubbling up in your eyes again as you nodded, far too touched to say anything else.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

That moment when your bestie gives you Thongvor Silver-Blood/Last Dragonborn as a crackship and you roll with it to surprising results

ao3 | masterlist

So @elder-dragon-reposes gave me this prompt. She wanted to see what I could do with Leara Rose-blade and one of the Silver-Blood brothers. I chose Thongvor. So, to start Leara off with Thongvor, I read his UESP page. And I learned some things. You can get Thongvor to talk about Talos, and if you're an elf, like Leara, he says:

"He founded the Empire, and now they've turned their back on him. To appease your kind, Elf. Do your people rule Skyrim, or do the Nords?"

Leara would cooly reply,

"You may find that some of my kind stand with Skyrim. I'm here on behalf of Ulfric Stormcloak."

(Floor him, Lea, c'mon)

He may also say:

"Your kind started the Great War. Nearly destroyed the Imperial City. Then the Emperor took the coward's way out and surrendered. Now you people dictate everything we do. Don't want us acknowledging a "mere human" like Talos as the god he is."

At which point Leara, Thalmor agent though she was at the time, would say,

"Your gross generalization of all elves under one banner is fascinating. Tell me, do all Nords see eye-to-eye with you? Because I thought you and Jarl Igmund had a few fundamental differences of your own."

Leara just dismantles him. Deconstructs his worldview until she dominates his perception. That's my girl.

This conversation happens:

Thongvor: "Reburrus, I need you to draft a letter to Ulfric requesting more men." Yngvar: "Ha! About time we got some more muscle in this city." Reburrus: "Thongvor, do you really think that's wise? I mean, King Ulfric is such a busy man, and there are so many areas of Skyrim to protect." Thongvor: "Whose side are you on, Reburrus? I'm not worried about Skyrim, I'm worried about the Reach. Specifically, the part of the Reach we're standing on." Reburrus: "Yes, Thongvor. I'll draft the letter immediately."

And after Reburrus sends the letter, Ulfric's natural inclination is to send his trusty Rose-blade.

"I know you're inclined toward the negotiator's table, but with the situation in the Reach, I need someone I can trust on top of things."

And Leara smiles at Ulfric.

"Of course."

And she's off to Markarth.

Does Ulfric know that his old friend Thongvor is about to simp for the woman Ulfric loves? No. If he did, he'd have sent Galmar or literally anyone else.

So then I asked my friend: What do you want to bet that this is the conversation Leara walks in on when arriving at Understone Keep?

Thongvor: "I want soldiers sent to deal with these dragons. Every able-bodied man and woman who can carry a bow." Reburrus: "We can't do that. Every soldier we send to hunt dragons is one more man that can't defend the Reach." Thongvor: "Killing dragons isn't defending the Reach?" Reburrus: "Our men know how to kill Forsworn and Legionnaires, not dragons."

And she clears her throat, light and delicate, and says,

"I can handle the dragons for you."

And Thongvor is going to put his foot in his mouth [see above where Leara dismantles him and informs him Ulfric sent her], and Thongvor just has to trust this half-elf, apparently from "King Ulfric" (she probably has a letter with a seal or something) to go handle the immediate dragon problem. And she does, and it's amazing.

Right now Thongvor is catching feelings for Ulfric's liaison and he has no idea what to do. She's not what he's perpetrated elves to be. And it's got him on the wrong foot.

Thongovr does need help in Markarth and Leara is surprisingly effective. She's diplomatic and soft-spoken and has an uncanny ability to introduce logic into situations and to soothe hot tempers. Thongvor can see why Ulfric sent her of all people. And after a while, he doesn't particularly want to send her back. Thongvor isn't an idiot: He knows there are many people in Markarth who still sympathize with or are on the side of the Empire or the Forsworn. He can't name names, but he knows they're there and they are a threat to his family's hold on the city. But Leara Stormcrown is keeping everything together. The dragons aren't so much of a threat now and there hasn't been a Forsworn attack or riot in several weeks. Thongvor is living high on Leara's success.

And then Ulfric writes, requesting Leara return to Windhelm at Thongvor's earliest convenience, because he needs his negotiator. back. Unfortunately for Ulfric, Thongvor doesn't find this convenient at all. He almost anticipates the city falling into anarchy as soon as Leara leaves and he can't have that. Markarth needs her. He needs her–

So Thongvor starts inventing excuses to keep her in the city. Leara knows Ulfric needs her to help him handle the Imperial deligations from Solitude, but Thongvor hasn't signed off on her mission to Markarth. She's getting antsy to leave, but she can't abandon her orders.

And this leads into the Forsworn Conspiracy/No One Escapes Cidhna Mine. There are problems from the Forsworn. When Leara starts looking into it, Thongvor doesn't want her to, but she does anyway and Thonar, what do you mean you arrested her?

And then Leara is in Cidhna Mine and Thongvor, Mr Foot-In-His-Mouth, is stalling on getting her out and his concern that Ulfric is going to find out.

(Firm belief that Thonar doesn't like Leara at all, by the way. Thinks his brother is a fool.)

And then . . . the Forsworn break out of the mines, and Leara is standing in his quarters. It's 3am. She's in rags. She's never looked more mesmerizing. Why is it so cold all of a sudden?

"I stopped them from killing your brother – barely. I did that for you, by the way. You're welcome, Jarl Thongvor. You're welcome, because Madanach is free, and he's gone to spread the truth to the Reachfolk."

Oh. She's . . . cross.

Her finger, directed at his throat, is a jagged spear of ice as it presses into his skin. There's a blizzard in her eyes and frost on her skin. That's what they meant when they called her Dragon of the North.

"Since coming to Markarth, I have followed your every direction. I have aided the people and dealt with your problems for you. But no longer. When your idea of aiding the people is the eradication and abuse of half the populace, then you are no longer worth my attention. People say Ulfric oppresses the Dunmer, but at least they have roofs over their heads, food in their stomachs, fires for warmth, and city walls for protection – the Reachfolk have nothing. You would take everything from a people whose only crime is living in the land you desire for your own! When I return to Windhelm–"

And then Thongvor snaps. He grabs Leara by the shoulders.

"I did it for you! I tried to protect you from the Forsworn! I would drive them into the depths of Oblivion so you never suffer at their hands again, like you have tonight!"

Leara's stare is a long winter.

"You did it for yourself."

And then her skin – he can almost feel the softness of her thin shoulders through the prison rags – is so cold it burns.

"The only one who hurt me tonight is you. I thought you were better than that. Really, I did."

And then Leara walks away. More painful than watching her go is knowing that she would never look on him again. That all her regard, so carefully attained in recent months, is shattered and gone. And Thongvor cries.

LATER IN WINDHELM:

Ulfric is just lounging on his throne, waiting for Thongvor to send Leara back, when the doors just blow up and she's there and she's brought the winter wind in her wake, but she's got a stiff lip and an iron spine. Ulfric is on his feet in moments because this isn't laughing Leara, this is Leara struggling, and he meets her across the room in moments.

She almost flinches back when he reaches for her.

His hand falls.

"Leara . . ."

Her eyes are distant, off to the side, and then she looks at him, and maybe there's a thaw but it comes with a swell of rain and barely restrained tears.

"I failed in the Reach, Jarl Ulfric."

Ulfric doubts that. Leara doesn't fail. But he hesitates to ask what she means because there's something haunted in her eyes. He reaches for her hand and when she takes it, slowly, he says,

"Tell me."

And she does, and Ulfric hears thunder.

Clear across the province, Thongvor shivers.

And that's it. That's the post. Thank you for coming to my TES talk

[tiniestbee]

Once Upon a Time in a Collapsed Building

tags : fluff, gn reader, no use of y/n, moderate(?) injury to reader, reader is hospitalized, reader vomits(minimal description), pro hero deku, aged up, happy ending

a/n : this is literally just a deku x reader meet cute, villain aftermath style! excuse the likely shitty formatting, I’m posting from mobile bc otherwise I’ll never post it lol I wrote this back in 2020 and 1000% forgot about it until recently. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Also, I took hella liberties with basically everything. How the hero system works, what first aid training they would have, what a concussion does to you, the list goes on lmao I just wanted a cute scenario, no research for meeeee. If you think I’m missing anything in the tags, please let me know!

A few years after graduating from UA, Deku flew up the ladder at the hero agency he started at and now he’s officially a partner. A sidekick no longer. He got called to a crime scene all by himself, a villain attack on an office building, but he finds himself there just a little too late. The villain was already contained, and now it was just the end of the search and rescue for all the people left in the building.

Deku isn’t really what you would call a “rescue” hero, but he knows how to take direction from the other heroes who have more experience and will always help out since big muscles good for lifting wreckage. He’s doing his thing, thinking that all the civilians have been evacuated when he hears a whimper, like someone was in pain. He shouts for the other heroes then starts searching in earnest, calling out that he heard you, he’s coming, he promises!

Finally he lifts a section of wall and there you are, at the bottom of what looks like the remains of a stairwell, cradling one arm to your chest. In his haste to get down to you, he doesn’t get the wall entirely out of the way, and before you know it he’s throwing himself headlong at you, curling himself around you as best he can as the rubble showers down from above.

Unfortunately, he threw himself a little too hard, and his body colliding with yours knocks your head into the wall behind you. Eyes squeezing shut, you can’t help another whine at the nausea rolling in your stomach and the colors swirling behind your eyelids. For a few moments, you can’t hear anything, and then it’s a rough voice, whispering how sorry he is, he’ll get you out of here, everything is going to be fine.

You shiver when he backs away, as best he can under the debris to try and assess the damage. You didn’t realize how warm he was until he was gone. His hand smooths over your hair in an unthinking gesture of calming, before realizing you had been holding your arm awkwardly when he saw you first.

“Your arm, does it hurt?” He asks, crouching in front of you with a sad smile when you nod and grimace at the pain in your head. He asks a few more questions, fingers ghosting up and down your arm until he decides you’ve only dislocated your shoulder. “I could... put it back in place if you want. Or we could wait for them to dig us out of here first.” You reach out to tap on the closest part of him you can find with your eyes closed, fingers finding purchase on his thigh.

“Go ahead,” You croak out, relaxing more heavily against the wall behind you, your fingertips squeezing into the thick muscle of his thigh the only indication of fear he can see. It’s relatively quick on his end, having done this more than once for his more reckless hero friends. For you, it feels like he’s moving in slow mo until he actually pulls to shift your bone into place, white hot pain burning down your arm and into your torso before settling into a dull ache as the joint settles.

Your mouth starts watering, the blackness behind your eyelids spinning as your stomach roils, all of the pain suddenly too much. You use your grip on his thigh to shove at him, eyes flying open to make sure he gets out of the way before you’re scrambling to your knees, nothing but stomach acid burning its way out of your throat. His warm hand settles on your back, hesitantly at first, then more confident as he starts rubbing small circles, trying to keep his guilty conscience to himself. If he’d waited for the other heroes, or been more careful, you wouldn’t have what is most likely a concussion.

A few minutes pass in relative silence, save for for your dry heaving, until finally your muscles relax, a black cloth suddenly dangling in your field of vision. A handkerchief? Whatever it is, you take it from him and wipe your mouth, balling it up in your hand when you’re done. You stiffen when you try to straighten up, the pounding in your head telling you that is not a good idea, until warm hands settle on your upper arms, fingers curled so loosely they might as well not be there.

“I can help?” He suggests quietly, carefully helping you up until your seated between his legs, back to his front with his knees bent on either side. “Just in case. Unstable y’know?” He points up, drawing your attention to the shifting of the wreckage above you, the shouts of heroes finally filtering through the concrete to you. He rests his arms on his knees and laces his fingers together in front of you, all but caging you in. It makes you feel protected, safe enough to close your eyes and let your head drop back against his chest.

He jostles you every few minutes to make sure you don’t fall asleep until a professional can get a look at you, fighting a smile as you groan and weakly swat at his bicep. He knows you must be exhausted, but he can’t risk your health any more than he already has. He thought Uravity was on the scene when he arrived, so surely you’ll be out of there soon.

He’s proved right when the rubble slowly floats away, her wide brown eyes the first thing he sees through the filtered sunlight. She quirks an eyebrow at him, gesturing at you and your position as a hero with a wind control quirk blows the rubble away for her to drop. All he can do is smile and shrug, cradling you in his arms as he stands and uses his quirk to neatly leap out of the little pit.

The next thing you remember is waking up in a hospital, a cottony feeling in your mouth even as an IV drips at your bedside. It’s dark outside and most of the room’s lights are off, so it must be hours later. Glancing around, your eyes lock on a figure in the armchair to your right, slumped forward and breathing slowly. The shock of curly green hair and broad shoulders clues you in. Deku, the hero that had saved you earlier, had come to see you, and for some reason, hadn’t left.

Ochako never did let Deku live down the fact that he met his spouse by giving them a concussion.

[xxanaduwrites]

DOWNFALL (a.b.)

main hub of all important thangs

chapter 2

had it been another day i might have looked the other way and i'd have never been aware but as it is i'll dream of her tonight - i've just seen a face, the beatles

——

Canada! Beer!

And.....

A girl woke up.

Nothing like good ol' Michael Kelso screaming on your television about smuggling Canadian beer while proceeding to press a loud ass blow horn — quite proudly, might I add —to stir you from your slumber. And people enjoyed proclaiming that the perfect wake up call didn't exist. I begged to differ.

Welp, that explained the weird ass dreams I had. Syd must have kept the television on while I slept. If she didn't go to bed — so help me God! I swore she drove me up the wall when she stayed up super late and then proceeded to go to work at the ass crack of dawn. How did she manage to stay awake? I wished I knew. I'd clock out if I was her — which now, as I took a good look at myself, I must have done just that last night.

Beautiful.

Finally getting the willpower to actually sit up in bed, I felt all the blood rush to my head. With a groan, I mentally scolded myself that I'd never drink again. Especially when I knew I dreamt up the whole night. For a moment, everything, and I mean literally everything came flooding back into my brain. I winced as I relived the interaction I had with Mr. breathtakingly-beautiful-Ken-Apollo. I cannot believe I actually cackled like a horse. Christ, I could already hear the familiar sound echoing in my ears which only made my head pound ten times harder. I pinched my forehead with my fingers and squeezed my eyes shut to dislodge the memory from my brain cells and excavate the pain.

Yep, he most definitely was not real. I imagined that shit. No one would ever just stand there — let alone stand next to someone like me and fucking talk to me deliberately— looking like that. Absolutely not.

Solid.

Good talk, brain cells.

At least that made me feel a little better, convincing myself that it never happened to absolutely get rid of every trace of embarrassment I unfortunately possessed. I'd never see him again, so none of it mattered, especially when he was a figment of my imagination. See what I did there?

It was absolute torture trying to remove myself from the safe haven I called my bed. Or my boyfriend. Whichever you prefer would be considered suitable enough. I could never pass up a date when it had the most deliciously comfortable comforter ever known to man. At least I believed so. I even had one of those stupid pajama sets you'd find on pinterest from my teens when mustaches were all the rage and all that keep calm shit. Fucking embrassing. But, man did I enjoy wearing that set in front of Sydney, especially when she dragged a guy in the apartment. Shit was funny. She unfortunately did not think so. Must be why she hasn't invited Broccoli Rabe over, but I could only assume, ya know?

I took my walk of shame out of my room and down the hall where the shower greeted my arrival. The tile was cold, and it spurred my eyes open to actually clean off the stench and sweat I collected from last night. How I managed to not notice that my body was still strung up in the simple black dress I tossed on, I didn't know. I was at least glad I made it to my bed in one piece. After showering, letting the hot water relax my tense muscles, and taking the time to thoroughly untangle the mess that became my hair, I dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a button up shirt, putting my hair up – because truly who wanted to deal with that friz ass mess of mine? I already took a billion years to get ready with the exhaustion still seeping into my bones and the headache I couldn't get rid of. I needed tylenol and coffee.

Coffee.

God, I could use a fucking coffee and not just from my simple Keurig machine. I needed real coffee. I needed the shit that lightened up my mood. Sunshine Spot was the place to be, and I sure as fuck needed to head there right now. Nothing was gonna stop me! Well, except for Sydney.

"The corpse has arisen from her ten year slumber!" I didn't even notice her at first, typing away on her computer at the island when I reached for my keys. "How are you feeling, darling?"

"Awful," I groaned, sagging my shoulders with extra emphasis. "Got any tylenol?"

"Already on the counter." She directed my attention to the water and pill on the counter with her pen grasped firmly with her hand. It was then that I noticed she was taking notes. Why wasn't she in the office? Would have been funnier if she did some Alice and WonderLand shit, I thought as I gulped back the pill. That whole eat me, drink me shit. But, it wasn't a good time to make a funky comment, especially when she was busy working. "Figured you'd feel a little funky this morning. Shocked you're up though. You wouldn't believe the shit I went through when I had to bring you home passed out and -"

"The fuck?" I almost spit out my water. What the fuck was she going on about? No, there was no way I passed out.

"Oh right." She stifled a laugh as she dragged the back of her pen across her bottom lip. Seemed like she figured this was common knowledge to me. "You kind of passed out honey. This stupid dude was walking down the stairs, tripped, fell on his ass, and knocked right into you while you were waiting for me to come back. To put it frankly, you went down."

"Oh good God. Don't tell me that." I held my head back, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Guess I couldn't say I dreamed it all when that happened. Jesus, I could only hope the flawless Ken doll didn't catch a glimpse of me hitting the floor. Maybe in some predictable fantasy I could imagine him sweeping me off my feet before I hit the floor, but even that sounded crazy. Guys nowadays would just watch you hit the floor. Sure could attest to that with William Williamson. A story for another time. But, again. Who the fuck was in charge of naming these people? William Williamson seriously. Stupid. Very unoriginal. Could they not think of anything else. I supposed not. Dude went by Billy Williamson, but that wasn't even better. Everyone knew where his first name derived from. Wouldn't need a rocket scientist to figure that one out.

"Sorry," she said meekly, raising her hands in defense before diving back onto her computer.

"Thanks for taking care of me. Hope I wasn't too much of a tassel hassle," I sing-songed for good measure.

"Of course." Her eyes looked blood shot as she stared back at the screen in full focus. How she managed to dive right back in on command was insane to me. I always needed to ease myself back into work when it came down to it. Took her a moment, but then she let out a snort. "Tassel hassle."

"Syd, please don't tell me you didn't sleep last night," I started sternly, reaching for my tote back on the coat rack, making sure everything I needed was still inside. I wore the shit out of this thing. I couldn't tell you how the seams stayed in tack this long, but they did. In other words, you could say I destroyed this poor thing, but she was still kicking.

"I won't then." She didn't dare look at me when I spun back around, almost dropping all my shit on the floor. "Doesn't matter anyways. Dr. Reignus told us we could work from home today. He figured we'd all be toasted. Are you going to the bookstore today, or what? What's on the agenda?"

Reignus. Again. What was up with Los Angeles and their inhabitants' names?

I adjusted my strap on my shoulders, trying to take in all the words Syd piled out of her mouth. How she had this much energy at 9am. A girl would never know. "You sound like a mother with all the questions. Don't worry I will be home before the clock strikes twelve. Wouldn't want to turn into a pumpkin or anything. Or maybe I do? You could make a damn good pie."

"Oh shut up!" She choked out, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "It's too early for this."

"What's the dish on Broccoli Rabe?" I switched subjects effortlessly. "Since you're home today, why didn't you guys fuck around last night or something?"

"Well, I was taking care of you." She chewed on the top of her pen as she gazed at me furrowing a brow. "Plus, I have work to do."

"Uh-Uh." I wagged my finger back and forth like a whole dog. "Don't deflect. Way before I hit the hay — you were itching to get out of there as soon as I found you. I may have been drunk, but I have a solid noggin. Remember, watermelon brain?"

She sighed, dropping her pen on the table and ramming her fingers into her temples out of pure stress. "He's confusing. That's all."

Did I hit the wrong nail? I suddenly felt awful for bringing it up. "Brock is probably a rock. Might just take a little longer to crack him open, but don't give up."

She smiled, but it didn't fully match her face. "I won't. Thanks Ri. You always have such a way with words." She broke out a soft chuckle. "Now I gotta get back to work, can you fuck off for a bit? Rather not think of him for longer than I have to."

"Of course! Toodaloo." And then I was out the door, ready to start the day. Whoopie.

Coffee. Right. On a mission for coffee. How could I forget?

Thank my lord and savior Eric Forman once again that the Sunshine Spot was within walking distance from my job. Truly a delight — if I must say. Workers knew me by name and shit. It reminded me of Gilmore Girls — channeling my inner Lorelai Gilmore and all. I always wished I was as cool as her. A legend.

Welp to sum it all up to the best of my abilities, I did the whole internship shabackle that Sydney got wrapped up into, but my experience wasn't as peachy as her's was. I hated corporate America — I still do. Explained why I didn't want to be at that dumb ass party, but Sydney guilted me, claiming she was far too nervous. But basing a majority of the events that circulated during the night, she was all over the place — being the social butterfly we all knew and loved. Not once did she need me, but of course I'd go for her. That's what friends were for. Plus, I had to keep my eye out on Dwayne and his douchery. Gotta do my service as an American and all.

To put it frankly — remember that dude Billy Williamson — yeah William Williamson. That douche burger was one of those rat bastards that made my life a living hell. So much for being a woman in literature. Truly a drag. Especially when there were men dictating every move I made — totally debunking every manuscript I found interesting. This led me to send out the most boring pieces I've ever landed my eyeballs on, all to satisfy my big-buck-dick-head bosses.

Fucking hated that shit.

Not my feng shui — if you will.

So yeah, that was how I ended up at Marlon's book store. God, did I love that old man. Sweetest dude I ever met in my entire life. His store could be considered a national treasure — it carried everything. And I mean everything. One day I took Marilyn there. She was already gushing when she walked through the door at not just the books but the little cute old man himself with his old school glasses. She thought he held so much swag. I let her believe so.

And it sure became 'a hunk a hunk of burning love' as both Mar and Mar loved to describe it. Disgustingly cute. Jesus though, I rather not know what those old peeps do in their free time. I should probably start sanitizing the shelves. Or dust a little more frequently.

Drop that thought, Ri.

Yikes, I was feening for a coffee.

Badly.

I swore all the weight drifted off my body and my whole soul bursted out of me and flew up to the heavens when Sunshine Spot finally came into view. It normally wasn't the worst walk of my life — but today wasn't normal.

The cute little cheesy bell rang as I walked through my favorite place, meeting the face of my favorite work-a-holic. Wait, I might of lied about Marlon being the cutest cause who the fuck could forget about Sherry Blossom— people say it was her stage name back in the day, but when it came to Sherry there was no room for questioning. She was simply an enigma. This woman right here was eighty-fucking-five still working up a storm at Sunshine cafe. I swore she's been here since the day the doors opened at this little gem of a place.

Once she told me, "Never let people look at you like you're some old sack of shit that can't move a muscle anymore. When people drop their opinions all over the place — where they are surely not needed or even wanted — I just say, 'If you think you're throwing me in some old people's home, you got another thing coming for you. Yep, that's a threat.'"

Cracked me the fuck up.

Alright, alright. So, I had one friend my age and then some elders.

Leave me alone.

"There she is!" Sherry's cheerful voice that she only seemed to have reserved for me — as from what I was told by her coworkers — welcomed me. "My girl. How are you?"

"Howdy girl. Could be better," I sulked, tossing my tote on a stool and plopping myself on the one right next to it.

She stopped what she was doing the moment she took in that my 'howdy wasn't as enthusiastic as it usually whenever I saw her. "What's the matter?" She dropped the towel she was wiping the table with, giving me her full attention.

What an angel.

I adjusted myself awkwardly in the stool, my head leaning on my hand, my arm resting on the table — my body on a whole angle like I fucked some protractor. "Unfortunately I'm a teenie-weenie bit hungover." I maneuvered my other hand, eyeing it in front of my face as I measured the distance between my thumb and middle finger to emphasize my point. Her eyes lit up for a moment, taking in my words but I was quick to debunk her thoughts. "But, don't worry. I never wanted to go to said party in the first place, and nothing too awful happened. I just passed out but -"

Ah, geometry. A beautiful thing.

"You passed out?!" Lord Jesus, that woman had some real pipes. Every head under the sun turned. Just great. "Are you okay? Lemme have a look at your face." She dived forward, not even bothering to ask  before she was taking me all in — holding both sides of my head to dissect my face. She turned my head in every which way like some voodoo doll, but how could I complain when she cared so much for me? More than most. We were close enough so I didn't really mind. I'd come here for years. She helped me when I was sat here crying my eyes out over some stupid professor that was being a dick to me, and even helped me get the fuck out of that dick of an internship with her perfect convincing. "You poor thing. Hit up the coffee pot stat — my girl needs a glass!" She called out to no one in particular and shockingly everyone behind the counter moved — no one hesitated. She was that powerful. What a woman. Another human that was on the list of my legends — the same one as Lorelai Gilmore, and I supposed Eric Forman if you felt obligated to include him.

In two seconds flat, a beautiful iced coffee — just the way I liked it, sat beautifully in front of me. So pretty, I didn't even want to touch it, but man I needed a fix. "You're incredible." I licked my lips, staring right at the glass in amazement, mesmerized by the way the ice sat against the liquid.

"Anything for you." She blushed madly. "Going to work today or hanging out for a little while?"

Pulling out my phone, I checked the time. Marlon was way too fucking chill about scheduling. He honestly couldn't care less about when I came in, but I still hated not being on time. But, noting my current predicament, I figured I'd just shoot him a little text that I'd be late today. I genuinely did not want to deal with customers complaining. Not when my head was still pounding, and I was waiting for the tylenol to kick in. "I can stay for a tad."

"Good." She reached out, grasping my hand. Leaning forward she nodded at me to move forward as if she was gonna tell me a secret. "These customers today are already driving me fucking nuts. I'm sorry but who orders a burger at seven in the morning and complains about it being well done when they asked for that shit when they ordered. Not our fault. Idiot. Thank goodness you're here."

Don't get confused. The place is an enigma just like Blossom. It was everything you could imagine. A cafe/diner — practically a six piece restaurant all wrapped into one cute little place. Sometimes Los Angeles could be amazing, but only for this. Gotta love Sunshine Spot.

I forgot my lips were attached to the straw and I blew fucking bubbles in response. The bubbled up liquid shot out the sides and landed on the table, serving up a whole mess. "Guess you can add me to that list of f-" I got cut off by a bell from the back.

"Sher!" A girl called from behind the counter. "Could you take this one — I got my hands full." She wasn't lying. Two trays stacked with so much food for a whole army.

But, that didn't seem to please Sher. She just rolled her eyes. "I gotta do everything around here." She lifted up the rag in her hand and waved it madly. "Oh and look, I gotta deal with this schmuck staring at his phone. If the order gets fucked up it's not my probem. Pay attention," she whispered so no one else could hear.

I loved this woman.

I watched as she trailed off a few seats away, huffing as she proceeded to aggressively flip her pad to write down some dude's order. For a moment my smile was infectious, burning against my cheeks as I watched one of my favorite ladies do her thang. But then, as I looked over some more I became acutely aware of the dude she was serving. Why the fuck did he look so familair?

What was it?

Think Rianne.

Hmmm. Sandy blonde hair. Black Shades. Alright. Light denim button up. Black shorts. White sneakers. Button nose. Half buttoned top. Gold chain.

Wait a fucking minute?

Intermission.

Move your hand, you bitch.

I needed to know if it was him.

Dude's pointer finger was stuck behind his phone.

Whatever. Probably not who I thought it was anyways. Stop losing your marbles Rianne.

Nope. Nevermind. Act two. Holy fucking shit.

It was him.

Ken-greek-god-lifeguard-model-surfer-beach-boy-hot-shot extraordinaire.

Didn't need the ring to know when I once again had the full range of that glorious side profile I practically had embedded into my memory somehow from the night before. Thanks to the lords he took off his shades. Guess my drunken brain was quite fond of him — but how could I blame her when he looked like that? Jesus, he looked even better in the daytime, etched in the sun instead of those idiotic disco lights that could give you the worst headache of your life.

If only he'd look up from that phone, I could see his eyes — or that ring. Oh God, He put his phone away. The ring. There it is, confirming it all. Ding. Ding. People, I feared we had a winner! Now, his eyes scanned the joint.

I cannot do this right now.

Immediately, I panicked, stopping the first server in front of me that passed by. "Menu." I hissed quite lowly, keeping my head down.

"Huh?" They looked at me like I'd just emitted a noise instead of speaking a real word.

"Menu," I hissed again — a little louder this time, but not loud enough that it would draw any unwanted attention — keeping my head down.

Whatever you do, don't make eye contact.

"Didn't you already order?" They looked at me quizzically. I raised a brow. They didn't question me further.

Snatching the menu off the table, I held up the monstrosity up to my face like a whole shield. Perfect. Amazing. If I won't see him, he won't see me.

Solid logic.

"The hell you doing back there?" My girl Sher's voice suddenly boomed from behind my menu of shield, making me almost jump out of my seat. Her cute little wrinkled up manicured finger suddenly came into view — attempting to push down the menu so she could see my face.

I tried to come up with a good excuse, but it wasn't great. "Researching," I spat out.

"That's strange, but alright. If you find out what they put in the gravy, let me know. I mean I already do, but it would be fun if you found that out." She sounded a little distant, but I didn't dare move — my heart pounding a mile a minute. "See. Shouldn't have drank that alcohol. You don't only gotta worry about your liver, but your brain. Fucks it all up."

"Thanks for the advice," I murmured while trying to take a peak over the menu only to see eyes I never got a chance to see before taking in our interaction. Holy shit were they blue. He even looked confused as hell. Yep, I looked like a crazy woman again in front of him — lovely.

Abort mission. Abort mission.

"Bye Sher! I gotta go." And then I bounced right out. Dropping the menu, grabbing my tote, and sprinting out the door without another look.

That was a close one.

"I thought you were-" I heard her begin, but her words caught off as soon as the door swung close and that oh so familiar bell rang in my ears. God, that was gonna leave a mark on my brain now. Delish. Perfect. Amazing.

Nope, never again. Not gonna see him again, but damn that was kinda crazy.

——

anotha one for my peeps. you can run, but ya can't hide, riri ;)

citing my sources of course. just ri ri waking up to literally kelso being kelso:

- xanadu