#that beer is pretty good though i mostly bought it for the fact its called tarot noir

[heartyearning]

Pictures from today

#having a pretty good one! i always love seeing what ppl get at the grocery store whoch #which* is the reason for that first pic #food / #george.png #that beer is pretty good though i mostly bought it for the fact its called tarot noir

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summary: It’s the late summer of 2004. You are set to travel across the country for university and your best friend Tom is staying behind. You spend your last night together before you leave. 

Themes: Friends to lovers, love confessions, first love. 

Warnings: Drinking beer. One mention of smoking weed. Mentions of parents fighting and also implied neglectful parents. Smut (+18), two spanks?? otherwise pretty tame.  

Word count: 3,4 k

Notes: I don’t know, this might be a bit different? Or it might just feel that way to me. It’s very reminiscent of teenage years and first love and nostalgia. Please let me know your thoughts, I’m genuinely not sure what to think about this one. 

Massive thank you to @augustholland​ who read through it and very kindly reassured me that it wasn’t bad 💖

Also, this fic was inspired by the Phoebe Bridgers song. I’ve never actually listened to it but it keeps showing up in my recommendation and i like the title of it so this is what i imagine that song is about. Mostly I listened to Harry Styles - Fine Line while writing this.

You finish up early that afternoon. Wayne, your old boss, tries not to cry as he hugs you goodbye. He tells you to take care in a gravelly voice close to breaking, as he avoids looking at you. It’s your last shift in the greasy bar, where for the last two years you’ve been selling cheap beer and watered down whiskey to weary old men and rowdy students who come in for a game of pool. It hasn’t paid much, just a few pounds an hour; just enough so that on each thursday you and Tom have enough money for movie tickets at the local cinema. It’s your tradition. Like a religious man goes to church each sunday; you spend your thursday nights with Tom’s arm slung around your shoulders, watching whatever new film they have on, sharing a bowl of popcorn between you. Afterwards you'll have burgers at the fast food joint across the street; talking about the movie long into the night, sharing a bag of fries. 

When you were younger and hadn’t been able to afford to pay Tom had sneaked you both into the cinema anyway.  Your hand in his, he had led the way into the movie theatre when no one was looking. Sitting in the back row he’d sneak you Fruit Polos to snack on, his arm slung around your shoulders, as you watched movies you were way too young for.

Last week was your final movie screening; some light-hearted American comedy, and the entire way through it you fought the lump in your throat, forcing yourself not to cry. Tom hadn’t laughed either; had just held you closer than usual. 

Tomorrow you are set to leave the small seaside town behind you, the place where you have spent most of your life, for a drive all across the country; to start university in a city you’ve only visited once before. You’re not sure when you’ll return.

Thus lately everything has been laced with goodbyes; childhood having reached its end.

Just two days ago there had been the last bonfire where you had watched the Holland boys fight each other while playing football as his parents looked on and laughed, grilling sausages over the open fire. 

It was on the same rocky beach where you have spent many summer days; grilling food on the open fire and throwing back cheap beer with your friends from school. You have scraped your knees on these rocks, burned your skin from both the bonfire and the sun there; have had your heart broken over and over and over again during your school years as you watched Tom kiss whatever girl he was dating at the time by the fire during summer night parties.

Maybe you had broken his heart a few times as well. 

As the afternoon light turns everything golden you drive through the main street in the small town where  everyone knows everybody, and has done for generations. You watch the people as you drive them by. You know everyone’s name, know each crack in the pavement; can find your way home in the dark. 

God knows how many shoes you’ve worn out over the years walking down these streets. 

The radio plays a blink-182 song you know by heart as you follow the road out of the city, through the woods and up to the coast. At the end of a muddy track, on the border to the forest, stands a shabby old caravan. It faces the beach and above the door christmas lights are lit up all year round. 

The Holland family legend says that Tom’s great uncle had won the small patch of land in a bet. Unable to build a large house he had bought a caravan and put it on the lot. The old man had lived in the Shed for the rest of his lifetime, before passing it on to Tom; the youngster of the family, his younger brothers having yet to be born. When he had turned seventeen he moved out of his parents larger, more comfortable house, and into the Shed. His mother had agreed on it on the condition he took on the apprenticeship to become a carpenter that he had been offered. 

You remember when he had told you of his decided future, one late evening as you sat on the driftwood by the beach, smoking weed and watching the sun set over the horizon. It had felt right somehow, you had been able to  imagine him working with his hands, skillfully forming and bending wood to his will; his long and slender fingers knowing just how to fix things. Tom has always been good at mending things. It had been three years now and he was a full time employee at the JBT Carpentry Services. He says it doesn’t pay much, but he’s happy; and that's all that matters.

As you park the car outside the Shed Tom comes out. Standing under the colorful christmas lights he grins widely as he sees you, his eyes crinkling at the sides. The most genuine smile you know. He’s tanned from a summer spent on the beach, his hair a wavy mess; as if he’d just woken up from sleep. It’s a warm august day and the world seems sunbleached somehow; but in the afternoon light Tom looks golden. 

You are painfully aware that it is the last time you’ll see him like this for many months to come.

Walking up to him and he gives you a bear-hug; his warm, hard body pressed against yours, holding onto you tightly. With your face in the crook of his neck you breathe him in and discover that a faint trace of bonfire smoke still lingers on his skin. It all feels achingly familiar and safe. So heartrendingly unlike the uncertain life at university that lies in front of you.

Tom is your safe place.

Your parents had always fought like cat and dog and sometimes when you were younger and  they’d argue you’d climb through your window and walk all the way over to the Holland household. You were always welcomed there and his parents didn’t ask any questions, no matter how late the hour; instead they fed you, treating you like a member of the family around the dining table with gentle teasing and reminders of homework that needed to be done, letting you sleep over when needed. No questions asked. 

With the years the fighting at home got worse. When Tom fixed himself a beat-up old Land Rover and moved out to the Shed you’d call him from the payphone down the road. He’d always answer, telling you to pack up; and that he was on his way. He’d pick you up by the end of the street, a duffle bag with schoolbooks and a change of clothes slung over your shoulder. He’d take you back to his place to sleep. His caravan only had one bed, so you used to curl up next to each other in bed. On the nights when you were crying he’d hold you, and in the morning he’d make you breakfast before you both went off to school. 

Your parents never noticed your temporary absence. 

Tom lets go of the hug, but with an arm around your waist he leads you into his home. There’s a lingering scent of fried food in the air and the boombox is playing the 3 Doors down CD he’s been obsessed with since you bought it for his birthday. You tread the cherry wood veneered flooring with your battered tennis shoes, feeling more at home here than anywhere else on earth.

 “Fancy a beer?” Tom asks, leading the way to the kitchen area. “Warn you though, it's warm. Just got back from the store so they haven’t had time to cool”.

Everything is warm today, and the caravan is no exception. The ancient AC had given in years ago and Tom could never afford having it fixed. You heave yourself up on the countertop, replying a simple “sure” to his question. 

He opens a Stella and hands it to you. He isn’t wrong, the beer is tepid. Yet you drown half the bottle in one big swig; happy just to have something to do with your hands when he’s standing so close to you. Gulping down on the liquid and you cannot help but notice Tom’s eyes on your throat as you swallow. He opens a bottle for himself and takes a swig. 

You smile at the ancient gray t-shirt he’s wearing. At one point there had been a band logo on it, but it has long since been washed out. He notices you smiling at him and as if it's infectious a smile broadens on his face as well. “What?” he asks, leaning against the small counter across from you.

“Nothing” you say, smiling wider. “Just wondered how many times I’ve seen you in that shirt. I mean, it has to be near a couple of thousand times by now”.

“You don't exactly love buying new clothes either” he says, a teasing smile playing at his lips as he looks at your washed out jeans shorts. “I know for a fact that those aren’t new, darling”. His eyes linger on your legs for a moment too long before he looks away, taking a swig from his beer. 

“So, when are you leaving?” He asks, and you can tell that he’s trying to sound relaxed, but leaned against the countertop, his arms crossed in front of him, head bowed; holding onto the bottle of Stella he’s nursing with a tight grip. He looks tense and on edge. 

“Tomorrow morning”

He takes a swig from his beer. There’s nothing more to say, not really. Everything that happens now is just aftermath; you might as well have already left. 

“I’m nervous” you admit, biting your lip, trying hard not to et out the tears you’ve been holding in for days now; embarrassed that your voice trembles on the last word. 

His head snaps up to look at you. Pushing off the counter he takes a step forward, placing himself in between your legs. 

“Hey” he says, with a voice a low and gentle as a whisper, his hand cupping your cheek. You look up at him; long dark eyelashes framing his beautiful brown eyes, his thin lips slightly parted and across his nose freckles are spread out, the result from a summer spent in the sun. His calloused hand strokes your cheek. “You’re going to take them by storm, Pebbles”.

You smile, despite your fluttering heart. He hasn’t called you Pebbles for a long time. It had been his nickname for you when you first became friends, the reason behind it long forgotten. He was the only one to ever call you it, and the name had lingered long into your late teenage years. 

“You took me by storm,” he admits. 

You blink up at him through wet eyelashes. Your family had moved to the town when you were ten years old. This was the kind of small town that strangers seldom came to and inhabitants rarely left; and so the new addition to the small local school had everyone talking. You had felt like an astronaut shuffled into space on your first day, trying to find gravity in the unfamiliar school corridors. You had felt the pull of gravity in form of the brown-eyed boy sitting next to you in english class. He had given you a warm smile as you sat down next to him. He had made you his friend, listened to you and confided in you; had made you laugh until your stomach ached. You found further gravity in his home; surrounded by his family and their endless squabbles and laughter, sitting next to Tom at the dinner table.

It hadn’t taken long before you and Tom were an inseparable item; your names always linked to one another in the mouths of others. 

“You’ve worked so hard for this scholarship” he says, and the corners of his mouth tugs up into a smile, “I mean, I’m pretty certain you’re the only reason I even finished school”.

You had helped him write most of his essays at school. He’d struggled with reading a lot and found the assigned novels difficult. There were evenings where you’d spend hours laying on the bed; twisting the phone cord between your fingers, as you read the books out loud for him. 

Sometimes, in order to be left alone from his parents and younger brothers, he’d walk down to the end of the street and to the payphone there, where he’d spend all his pennies listening to you reading. You had talked and talked until your voice got hoarse; until he ran out of pennies. Yet when he hung up you always felt a tug of longing in your chest, knowing you wouldn’t be able to see him until the next day in school. 

“Well,  I heard you’re doing pretty good as a carpenter” you say, smiling up at him. “I always knew you’d be good with your hands”. 

As soon as you’ve said it you can feel your face heat up. You had heard the rumours at school; Tom Holland is a stellar fuck. Once, while you were in the bathroom stall, you had heard a gang of girls discuss it as they reapplied their lipgloss in the mirror. One of them told the story of her one night stand with Tom, how he had made her come several times over with his hands and mouth; how he’d fucked her so long and so good. You had stood in the stall, your heart in your throat; feeling sick to your stomach, but unable to stop listening.

There were girls that reached out to you in school, knowing you were Tom’s closest friend, and asked you in hushed but awed voices if it was true. If he really that good in bed.

He looks you dead in the eye, an unusual seriousness to his warm eyes. He knows what you’re thinking, knows what thoughts have made your cheeks flush with colour. Letting go of your cheek he places his arms on either side of you on the counter; caging you in. 

“There’s never been anyone but you, Pebbles. Not really.” His tone is heavy with meaning and you feel light-headed; both oddly detached from your own body and painfully aware of the closeness of his. Your heart is beating hard in your chest. 

This is a line you’ve never crossed before. 

“I know I’m ruining everything by saying this, but you’re leaving tomorrow and I’ve been walking around with this secret lodged in my chest like a bullet since i was ten years old; I love you, Pebbles. I’ve always have”.

You should speak. You should tell him that you’ve known for a long time how he’s felt. That it’s been evident in the way his eyes keep lingering on your legs, in the way his arm usually finds its way to rest around your waist. In the way he’s always been there for you. You should tell him that you understand why he hasn’t been able to voice his feelings for you; because you haven’t done it either. Too scared of losing him. But your breath has caught in your throat and all you can focus on is those caramel eyes on you, and how hard your heart is beating in your chest.

“I love you too” you say, voice hardly louder than a whisper. You swear there was music coming from the boom box but all you can hear is the blood rushing through your body. 

He kisses you.

He takes your mouth slowly, kissing you thoroughly until you can’t think straight; can’t remember any other kiss than his. Then his lips move over yours with more fervour; more urgency, one hand around your throat and the other tangled in your hair. He kisses you until you're both moaning and gasping for more. 

This is it. You’ve crossed the invisible line between friends and lovers; and there is no return, no going back from here. When you leave tomorrow you will leave knowing what his mouth feels like pressed against your.

You dig your hands into his soft hair, runs them both up his chest, realising that this is what your hands were made for. He lifts you off the counter and you wrap your legs around his waist. He moves you both across the caravan and into the bedroom. It’s baking hot in there and you can already feel sweat forming at the low end of your back. The room, just big enough for a bed to fit, is lit up with sunlight. His bed is a mess of rumpled white sheets and the walls are the same cherry wood colour as the rest of the caravan. 

You kiss and lick his jaw, his neck, his throat; anywhere you can reach you stroke him. You tug at his hair, kiss his soft lips, and nib at his ear. It’s like the gates have been opened, because even though his arm has always been a comforting presence around your waist; and even though you’ve slept in the same bed more times than you can count, his body curled up next to yours, forming himself like a question mark around your body; he’s never been yours to touch before. Not like this.

His breathing is accelerated, his chest rising and falling in rapid speed, and so is yours. There’s a heat to his eyes that tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. You pull at his shirt before he’s even laid you down on the bed; impatiently craving all his warm, suntanned skin pressed against yours. It’s an almost feverish frenzy, and in the back of your mind you know that you should take this slow. You don’t want this to end too soon, because this might be all you get. But the sun hasn’t even set yet and through the old white-washed curtains you helped put up and light shines through, bathing you both sunshine. 

Outside the waves keep crashing against the shore and in the kitchen his boombox keeps playing songs you’ve heard a million times before. It is like it always has been at Tom’s, except that for laying on his sofa and talking he’s removing your clothes; kissing his way down your body. Wet, opened mouth kisses that leave a trail of heat in its wake that have you bucking your hips up for more. His hands are everywhere, exploring your legs. He’s looking at your skin with wide-eyes adoration. With his body in between your wide spread legs he kisses the soft inside of your thighs. 

“So soft” he groans against your skin, “and so sweet”.

You feel overheated and breathless; aching all over from wanting him. Perched up on your elbows you observe him; his dark hair brushing against the low of your stomach as he kisses the tender skin of your hip bone. He bares his teeth and bites the sensitive flesh. 

His hand cups your cunt. You’re wet and aching and as you presses his thumb to your clit, gently but steadily moving up and down, you feel like you’re going to combust. His strokes are soft at first, before speeding up, making you moan wantonly, spreading your legs wider for him.

“Glad you like that,” he says, a satisfied smile spreading on his face. “Do my fingers feel good on you, darling?”

All you can do is moan in response, arching and moving your hips up to meet his hand. His movements are fast and slippery and it doesn’t take long until your close, so close, so close; on the brink of tipping over and then - 

A sharp slap on your pussy, leaving a stinging bite, and it is like the world splits into two. 

“God” you moan, voice hoarse. You’re shuddering all over; moanes falling freely from your lips. 

He looks up at you from his position in between your legs, his dark eyes sparkling. He kisses the soft inside of your thighs again. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you here?” he asks. “I bet you do, torturing me for fun in those short jeans shorts”. He spanks your pussy again and you couldn’t have stopped the moan falling from your lips even if you tried. “How long I’ve wanted to taste you here?”. And he places a hot kiss on your wet slit. You can feel his soft hair pressed against your thighs; his warm breath against your skin.

His lips part and he covers you with his mouth, his tongue moving over your opening; touching you, stroking you, tasting you. A guttural moan leaves him. He looks up at you through tassels of hair, caramel eyes glued to your face.

You fall back against the mattress, “more” you demand, in a voice that sounds a lot like begging. “Please, more”.

It is as if he’s been unleashed. You have never felt anything like it, but he laps you up, tastes you; his fingers moving inside you; pressing against the place that has you seeing stars. You can’t even look at him now, you’re eyes shut; too overwhelmed by the stimulation. Both aching for more but not sure if your body can handle that kind of pleasure. Your thighs are shaking, and something in your stomach grows tighter and tighter by each flick of his tongue against your clit.

“I’m coming” you cry out breathlessly “fuck I’m coming”

And you do. Hard. He keeps kissing and touching you through it; both grounding you and dragging out the intense sensation. 

His hands, now familiar with your thighs, make their way up to the soft swell of your breasts, as you struggle to regain your breath. He’s cupping them in his hands, pinching your nipples in between his fingers, kissing them with ferveor. Hungry hands move over your breasts, your stomach, your face; cupping it so that he can kiss you with the sort of yearning that comes from years of unanswered desire. 

Your hands move over his body as well, moving over his abdomen chest and arms, defined from long hours of hard work. You kiss his throat and collarbones, kissing at the skin; licking, sucking and biting until you hear guttural moans coming from his throat. His lips are slightly parted, and his glossy dark eyes are fixed on your face; his fingers loosely tangled in your hair. 

He presses you down onto the mattress again, until he’s face to face; his arms on each side of your face, holding himself over you.

“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse, panting slightly. 

“I want this” you answer him, voice low but clear, “I really, really want this Tom”

He smiles, breathing out the breath he’d been holding and moves away from you, reaching for the side of his bed and to take out a condom from the drawer. 

He places a quick kiss to your lips, your cheek, your belly button, before he sits up. He removes his underwear and you can feel your face heat up again. Because this is Tom, your Tom, whom you’ve been in love with for half your life. But being with him, both naked as the day you were born, feels right. You know everything about this man, all his preferences and secrets; his favourite movie and how he likes his food and why he skipped class every day for a month in year nine. And he knows everything about you. It feels right that he should know this as well; know each curve of your body and the way you like to be kissed and what has you moaning and begging for more. 

He unwraps the foil package and puts the condom on with firm fingers. Leaning over you again he lines up against your opening. His eyes glossy with lust, damp hair falling over his face; his mouth swollen and wet from kissing you.

Then with a sharp thrust and a groan he’s inside you. 

All coherent thoughts go out the window as he starts moving in and out of you. The only thing that exists is his strong, sweaty body above you, moving in and out of you with slow, deep thrusts. He’s so hard where you are soft and you can’t stop touching him, dragging your fingers over his back, pulling at his hair, kissing his arms. It’s like the wires in your brain have crossed, sending out sparks of pure pleasure in your body. 

He hits a particularly tender spot inside you and the groan that leaves you is almost animalistic.

Tom nearly halters in his pace, before collecting himself again. “Fuck” he moans out, kissing your neck. His movements become more frenzied and you roll your hips under him, meeting his movements; trying to get him deeper inside you. 

He pushes himself up onto his hands, pulls back slightly; and pushes in. Starting to really fuck you. 

You can’t stop looking up at him; naked body damp with sweat, muscles moving as he works; arms flexed and cheeks flushed. His eyes are closed pleasure now. Your hands are on his hips helping him set the pace as he fucks into you with fast, hard thrusts. Without warning you clutch around him in pleasure and he groans loudly.

“How the fuck does your cunt feel better than it tastes?” he asks, panting for air. “

He presses a hand over your heart, letting it rest there. You wonder if he can feel it pounding for him. You feel like you’re dissolving into a thousand tiny pieces as you come around him with a choked scream. 

He’s so close and you can practically feel it; aching for him to have it. You want him to come; in you, on you, over you. 

And then he does, his brows furrows; like the pleasure is so intense it hurts him. The sounds he makes when he comes are guttural; almost whimpering. 

As he falls down on the bed beside you he pulls you close, has you pressed against his body, an arm firmly wrapped around you. The sun has set now, but the ocean waves still crash onto the shore, the sound of it the only thing to fill the silence part from your laboured breathing; the music having gone quiet in the other room. 

Neither one of you say anything. You knew the end to this when he kissed you. You’ve regretted nothing that has happened here, and you know that he doesn’t either; but tomorrow you are leaving to drive all the way across the country and he cannot follow. You don’t know what will happen now, and he doesn't have the answer to that either. And so you just let him hold you; wishing with all your might that you could stop the morning from coming.

***

Please let me know your thoughts, genuinely don’t know what to make of this one. 

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic

[lesbianrobin]

hello em i have a request. can u please rate mr harrington's looks/outfits i just feel like u have the best takes and i'd LOVE to know how you'd rank his choices 👀

this is the single greatest ask i’ve ever received. i will be ranking the outfits, not steve’s moral alignment or actions in each scene. in order of appearance:

The Introduction

4/10

hair is tragic

steve copied this entire fit from a mannequin in the ralph lauren polo outlet store

would honestly be a 0/10 except for the obvious valiant effort being put forth by his lower half to resist the sexless curse of khaki pants. the devil (st costuming department) works hard but by god steve harrington (joe keery’s body) works harder

nice brown watch that certainly came from a department store

also gains points for being next to nancy’s anemic librarian fit, thus looking better by comparison

The Rich Bitch

8/10

thank god he ditched the khakis

hair looks much less demonic

it’s a simple look but the sweatshirt rides up when he shotguns the beer

he also gets wet

solid 8 for sluttiness alone

The Whore

10/10

wet

please note that his chest is waxed. keep this in mind.

The Heterosexual

2/10

hair looks like he dipped his head in glue

bold choice with the grey pants. unfortunately that choice was wrong

matching outfits with your comphet girlfriend isn’t as cute as you think it is stevie

you only get points because despite that ungodly pastel stripe pattern the polo’s decently fitted and makes your arm look kinda nice

The Dickhead

3/10

glue head pt. 2

at least the stripes aren’t pastel this time

The Cuck

6/10

hair slightly less glue-y

yet another striped polo is peeking out unfortunately

but! it’s green and green looks good on him

finally wearing jeans like a normal fucking human instead of weird slacks

pivotal moment in steve’s fashion evolution from preppy male model to sexy morally upright king

his morals are stored in the denim

The Final Girl

9/10

an outfit with a character arc to rival steve’s own

pretty fucking good hair if i do say so myself!!

it’s fluffy!

that shit looks like if you touched it it’d be soft... no glue here!

finally not copying from the goddamn l.l. bean catalog

iconic green slut sweatshirt? check! jacket and nikes? check! fucked-up gorgeous face and baseball bat full of rusty nails? check, baby!

looks good on its own OR with some blood on top

overall a very solid look

The Darling Little Drummer Boy

7/10

babe no... please don’t go back to the khakis... they won’t treat you like jeans do...

not quite glue head but not his best

apparently steve owns a single green sweatshirt, a thousand striped polos, and one very precious christmas sweater

almost makes up for prep-related khaki crimes by being really fucking cute

The Simp

8/10

glue head is DEAD

further evidence that steve harrington’s entire closet is just striped polos

this is his fifth unique striped polo

most of these points are for the sunglasses and the hair

actually all of these points are for the sunglasses and the hair

he’s finally let go of the fucking pastels thank jesus

and you can’t see it but he did wear jeans with this fit i just forgot to make sure they were pictured and it’s 4:15 am so i don’t feel like going back to remake this collage

cannot tell if this is a lighter blue version of the jacket he wore three times in s1 or if it IS the jacket he wore three times in s1 and the color grading is just that different

either way he loves jackets and i think that’s very sexy of him

The Intellectual

9/10

i’ve been waiting for this one... turn it up!

literally invented vests

excellent hair

loses a point for unfortunately introducing steve’s SIXTH unique striped fucking polo

i can’t see the collar but i know it’s there i know you’re wearing another fucking polo steve you can’t hide from me

can’t decide if he looks gay or just really preppy but either way he’s got some repression going on

still a very solid look

The Oh No Oh God It Hurts I’m Looking Away I Can’t Watch This

10/10

yes that middle picture is absolutely to show off the texture of his blazer and not at all me making sure that if i have to see his heartbroken little face then you all do too

anyways i Know that blazer cost at least $100 like i Know that shit’s expensive

excellent gorgeous soft-looking hair that someone ought to run their hands through but only people who haven’t dated him for a year while pining after someone else

emotional devastation... but make it unbelievably fucking sexy

stevie baby i know you’re a colorful guy but please wear more black

The Meathead Jock

9/10

aw christ whatever happened to standards?

introduction of the blue nikes <3

god his hair looked fucking good here

could have gained that final point by using tube socks with blue and GREEN stripes to tie together the shoes and the gym uniform :/

shorts could be shorter but are an altogether appropriate and enjoyable length

fun sweatstain to customize the look <3

The (is there a word for victim of bullying?) Serious Athlete

8/10

the yellow stripe was more fun

still cute though

The Sudsy Boy

11/10

wet

suds indicate that he’s washing his hair, presumably with faberge organics. is this why he’s being bullied?

steve brings his faberge organics shampoo and conditioner and his farrah fawcett spray to school with him whenever he has basketball practice

steve either has shampoo, conditioner, and hairspray in his backpack at all times, or he has a separate gym bag that’s mostly haircare products

just need to make sure we all know that

excellent freckle showcase

his chest is still waxed. please, i beg, keep this in mind

one of his strongest looks

The Babysitter

10/10

his most versatile look to date

a different jacket than the one(s) he’s worn before but it still has the same kind of collar. steve found a jacket he liked and bought it in at least three colors

the whole thing fits So fucking nicely! shirt, jacket, jeans... baby boy is TAILORED

return of the white nikes with the red check indicate that they are his fashion nikes, while the blue nikes with the white check are his sport nikes. interesting.

this fit lasts like 48 hours and steve simply looks sexier as time goes on which is a testament to its quality as well as his inherent power

every new accessory elevates his appearance. roses, nail bat, rubber gloves, blood, sweat, band-aids, bandana, goggles... each element complements the look in its own way!

an overall win

The Chauffeur

8/10

we can’t really see the whole fit but he’s not wearing a striped polo so i’m calling it a win regardless of what’s on his bottom half

cannot give him a 10/10 though because he might be wearing khakis

red is such a nice color on him when it’s not just from his blood

i lied when i said he should wear more black he should wear more colors

that plain sweater absolutely cost $85 or more

hair looks very nice and soft

excellent look!

The Sailor Man

9/10

very precious

absolutely the best hair i’ve ever seen

baby boy got highlights for his hot girl summer!

bright colors make his very red lips pop

shorts could be shorter

love the little accents! especially the white pockets and belt

excellent color coordination on steve’s part with the blue sneakers (notably different than his s2 blue basketball nikes) and the red bruising/blood

i hope you remembered that steve’s chest was waxed. as you can see his chest is now unwaxed. some change between s2 and s3 drove this decision, presumably either his breakup with nancy or the fact that he no longer showers in front of other guys at school. up to your interpretation

shock blanket at the very end is a nice touch so we don’t forget he’s traumatized

The Drowned Rat/The Man Overboard

10/10

wet

shorts could be shorter

the decision to purchase and wear a hoodless raincoat is absolutely ridiculous and stupid

however it is also very steve harrington and i value self-expression

The Chick Magnet/The Flaming Homosexual

100/10

what can i even say about this fit?

the absolute best pants he’s worn thus far. amazing fit, excellent classic wash. i say this as a former american eagle outfitters associate and the winner of my freshman year dorm’s “best at folding jeans” award

manages to make blue jeans with a half-blue denim vest work effortlessly

bold primary colors make him stand out without being too gaudy

excellent pairing of t-shirt with simple stripes and vest with simple color blocking to create a complex yet cohesive and flattering look

simple brown belt gives the look a put-together yet down-to-earth vibe

hair has only gotten better

still wearing that same brown watch that he’s had since the introduction

this man looks like he waxes his chest

this is steve in his final form

thank you for your time

#em talks #asks #long post #steve harrington #stranger things #battleonthedeathstar

[stevenbasic]

The Tale of Queen Angie, Chapter 2

10 months later.

“So who keeps texting you?” Angie asked, trying to hide her annoyance as she did her makeup at the vanity, brushing on the heavy mascara that made her eyes pop. He had recently restored the makeup table for her, rebuilding a nice old piece that had caught her eye at a yard sale a few months back. It’s not that she had very particular tastes in furniture; she just wanted to keep him busy, focused on something for her...

From his spot on her queen-sized bed, AJ quickly reached over to the nightstand, pushing aside the tissues and lotion, and silenced his phone. Even though it was nearly noon, and a Tuesday, he still hadn’t gotten out of bed.  “It’s...nobody, babe.” “Don’t ‘nobody babe’ me,” she said, her eyes flashing to meet his in the mirror, “Remember? We talked about this. About keeping secrets, from me?” To that, AJ laughed. To sound aloof, though,  was a half-hearted effort,. She’s joking, right? It’s not like it’s another girl, ever. It’s just th- Well, better not push it. “S-so sorry, Angie,” he apologized, not wanting a confrontation again over something so silly, “It was the guys from work. They want me to come down to Stoney’s to watch the game.” 

He had answered honestly, not even sure he was capable of lying to her at this point. AJ had, since reconnecting with Angie at the reunion earlier this year, really fallen hard for her. And it wasn’t just the tits, which admittedly were initially the main attraction. She was also smart, driven, and there was an aggression about her that, these days, had really become appealing to him. He’d never would have considered himself a...what did they call it?...a “beta”, but there was something about the way Angie took charge, managed things, told him what to do that really, yeah, turned him on. More and more every day, in fact.  And not just in bed - though, haha, she did that too - but in life in general. Their romance started out with her as the aggressor, and as time went on it had become even more and more one-sided. She had been an infatuated admirer of his back in high school, but if he was being honest it was now really her that held most all the hand in this relationship. But he hadn’t seen the guys much lately, and he kinda wanted to get drunk and commiserate with them. Since losing the stadium job to that big new girly construction company, his business had taken a sour turn. He’d had to let most of his crews go, including a bunch of old friends. 

“They’re down there drinking, before noon, on a Tuesday?” Angie asked, as she saw him watching her, primping in the mirror in her silk dressing robe, “And these people are your friends?” 

“Well, yeah,” he answered, immediately feeling sheepish, immediately feeling like the little boy trying to explain himself to his mom. She had a way of doing that, making him feel infantile and not like the kinda-successful, twenty-nine year-old adult male he was, “but I’d just be going for a beer or two…” So...dammit... why was he getting hard..?

Annoyance was bubbling up in Angie Wade’s chest. He knew she had taken the day off, so they could spend the day together. And he wanted to go see his moron buddies, drink cheap beer and watch sports? True, she hadn’t paid him much attention this morning, and he was probably feeling a little neglected. I guess I should do something about that, she thought wryly. 

“Well, tell them you're busy,” she answered, applying a dramatic shade to her eyelids in the mirror. She was almost done. “Or better yet, just ignore them. They’ll get the message.”

At that, she stood up from her makeup chair and turned around in her short, thin robe of light rose, cinched at the waist. She was facing him now where he laid, half-sitting, on the bed. He had his grey sweatpants back on but was otherwise bare. She watched his eyes move up her body, pausing - predictably - on her well-presented chest before struggling to break free of the magnetic pull of her curves and meet her gaze. 

A part of him had really wanted to go meet up with his friends. To get out of bed and go do ….something normal. He’d been getting out of the house, aside from the less-and-less frequent work, not that often these days. But that desire to leave was small, and fleeting. No sooner had he really grasped how she’d made herself up today - just for him - than the thought had already vanished. Replaced, in its entirety, by her. “Put the phone down,” she told him. “Oh, uh...yeah,” he obeyed, dropping his phone, forgotten, on the nightstand and watching as she slowly began to walk towards the bed, “They’ll, uh...they’ll figure it out, I g-guess...” “Good boy,“ she purred, giving him a crooked smile that told him she was pleased with his behavior. Angie loved the way he always shuddered and grew quiet when she said that, when she called him a “good boy”. It was a thing, these days, women starting to treat their partners like children. She’d read it in the blogs she followed, heard it from friends and from the girls at work. They had all begun to like it; men, for the most part, seemed to be slowly giving up these centuries-old, macho defenses, letting themselves be vulnerable, allowing themselves to enjoy the pampering that women had started to learn was the quickest way to gain leverage and control in their relationships. And for Angie, well...she loved the way he responded to both her silent and explicit commands, just for the opportunity to hear her say those words. Good boy. He really did enjoy when she mothered him, she knew.  It was kinda pervy but it worked.

“Because we’re busy today, you and me,” she continued, still approaching the side of the bed where he lay, ”Today’s our day off together....” She looked down at him, tried to keep from smirking; already his cock had started to tent his sweatpants. “Not that you’ve been working much anyways,” she added, unable to help herself and speaking plainly. 

It was true. With more and more construction bids falling through during the 11th hour, his work kept him less and less busy, though he felt constantly exhausted from the stress. He had been spending lots of time here, at her place, remodeling her condo for her, sleeping over. His bank accounts had nearly dried to nothing, and the lease on his downtown apartment was up this month. Plan was to officially move in with her, soon. Angie said she didn’t need any money for rent.

Finally, she arrived at his bedside, to his left. She let him look up at her - she knew she looked impressive from this angle - and smiled down at him. She watched as he took the hem of her robe between his fingers, played with its slick, soft fabric. He was looking at her full thigh. She sat down, on the edge of the mattress aside him, and put her hand on his thin, tattooed chest. 

“Uh, yeah…” AJ finally replied, these little derisive comments about his work situation irking him less and less as time went on, “I’ve got another day to kill…I guess I can relax...”

“Well, you do have work to do today, baby,” Angie informed him, tracing little circles with her finger across his once-mighty pecs. She had told him to stop going to the gym early in their relationship - muscular guys were going out of fashion, she’d said - and it showed. He was naturally a lean person, and the strong physique he had spent years building and been known for had mostly disappeared. She liked that, the weak, small-boned look, she’d found. Her friends, like that gym-rat Missy (who just got a new job), could probably squat more than him now, haha. “I have jobs for you.”

“I thought I was pretty much all done?” His face screwed up in concentration as he tried to remember the long list of tasks. “I finished the kitchen island, a-and installed the new shower head yesterd-“ 

“Not that kind of work, sweetie,” she corrected, “Relationship work. I have the day off, I got all pretty for you. I bought some new goodies at Victoria’s Secret yesterday,” she smiled down at him, watching him try to control the little eager twitches of his, “Well, technically, you bought them for me…. but either way….”

She ran the fingers of her left hand up past his right collarbone, sliding up his throat, looking at the tender, bare, smoothly unadorned skin, and thought to herself with a secret, silent giggle: we need to get you a new tattoo...

Today she’d decided that she wanted to have some fun with him. They had all day together and she really wanted to feel strong and powerful. She had seen Melissa’s Instagram earlier, and while she would never admit to feeling lesser, she couldn’t deny that she really felt the need now to flex some feminine muscles. She looked down at him, and dark thoughts went through her head. 

“We’ve got alllll day together,” she continued, her free hand now gently tugging on the belt which held her robe closed, “and I want to make you ache.”

She smiled proudly as, as soon as her right breast began to come into view, he groaned. He was already so turned on, she could see that, like some brainless ape. She’d read the manuals, all those domme blogs. With everything that was going on with men these days, femdom was getting very popular. Some seemed sort of silly - so much leather haha - but there were lots of things she wanted to try, get his mind in the right place. She wanted to make him even more submissive than he was already, it seemed, naturally becoming. Showing him her breast was a start. 

“Don’t you want to show me how much you love me today, hmm?” Angie purred, peeling her robe back further, now, exposing her G-cup breasts in the new push-up, black strapless bra she’d purchased, “How much you love...them?”

“Oh, god, Angie…” AJ moaned, already overcome as he watched as she dropped her robe behind herself, off her shoulders.  Her breasts looked fantastic, enormous, pressed perfectly together into mind-melting cleavage. Her long dark hair had fallen softly onto her chest…

...but in a practiced move she pushed it back, over her pale shoulders, affording him a better view. 

“You don’t need to show me your endurance today, baby,” she said, as she settled closer on the bed to him, pulling his sweatpants down to his knees, “I’m not interested in how long you can last.” Acknowledging his erection with a proud smile, she pulled in closer still and grasped it with her left hand. She heard him gasp, and pulled herself in closer still, to bring her big right tit right close to his face. “Today I want you to show me how weak you are for me…and my breasts…”

AJ’s mouth dropped open, his eyes goggled at the cantaloupe-sized breast of his brunette girlfriend, now just inches from his nose and mouth. She had such big, perfect breasts, he marveled, with smooth ivory skin and just the fewest of freckles. She smelled like fresh fruit, he always thought, and today her perfume had him immediately fixated. He did feel weak for her, he thought, he always did, in bed. She just had this way...and those tits...

“Look what I’ve done to you already,” she said, the pride in her voice masking a haughty disdain as she slowly began to stroke him in her fist. She smiled as, predictably, he let out a little whine and opened his mouth wider. He was staring right at her big boob, unblinking. Tit men, she marveled, they’re so easy.

She shifted her left shoulder in towards him, now bringing her left breast closer. He looked from one, to the other, still gape-mouthed like a guppy. “Today I want them to make you cum over and over and over,” she said, wobbling them just enough to bring ripples through her alabaster flesh, elicit another whine from him, “I want them to be the only thing on your mind allllll daaaay. I want you to be dumb and docile, I want you to drool over them. I want you to fucking worship them. ”

“y-y-y-yuh...yuh, okay…” AJ responded, dumbly ogling her tits, passively frozen in place. He’d learned to keep his hands to himself, times like this. She would take care of it. 

“‘Yuh okay’ what?” she asked him, in correction, her left hand slowing to a stop as she waited for his answer. 

“y-yuh okay goddess,” he answered.

She chuckled. She’d taught him well. “Good boy,” she commended, loving the worshipful fealty she’d gotten from him over time; it made her feel good, fed her ballooned ego. She resumed her ministrations to his just-about-average cock, thinking: Does Melissa have someone calling her ‘Goddess’?? I think not...

”oh my god you’re so big,” AJ offered, as she placed her right breast once again straight in front of his face. 

“Mmhm…” she purred, feeling the urge to just squash her tit onto his mouth and nose, start to smother him, “I’m the big Titty Monster, come to eat you…”

He groaned again, his eyes fluttered in ecstasy. 

God, so submissive, she marveled. If all men, honestly, were secretly getting to be like this, she thought, girls are going to rule the world. “Tell me again,” she commanded, breathing in, pushing her tit even closer to him, so that soft flesh swelled over the cup. She kept her skin smooth, soft, moisturized, for times just like this. The few, faint stretch marks, she felt, were just a testament to her womanly size.

“y-you’re so big…” he complied, repeating himself, in total awe now. 

“Yes, I am,” she agreed, “a G-cup.” She had originally thought she’d just make him come quick - and with where she had him at the moment she could do it in an instant. But she was actually enjoying this. “And you like that, hm? You like big. Big boobs. Big girls. Maybe I should start going to the gym, get reeeeeal big?” she posited, looming over him taller now, “Get bigger than you? You’d like that too, wouldn’t you?”

“oh, god, yes,” he groaned. 

Angie smiled. Again, so easy. She’d seen it, knew it. It was getting plain as day to her. But she didn’t fully understand it all yet. What is up with guys these days, wanting their women big? Bigger than them? And she was feeling it too, she realized. She’d love to see him start to just shrink up, right in front of her eyes. Something was happening, something was going on. And she was going to figure this out. 

“What is it, baby? Tell me. What is it that you like, thinking about me being bigger?” she asked sweetly, continuing her slow, rhythmic attentions between his legs. 

His eyes were still planted on her tit, staring at her bra. “....b-b-breassts….” he moaned. 

She laughed. What a simple, predictable answer from a simple, predictable man. “Ohhhh..!” she giggled, teasing him, “Am I not big enough for you? Should I get implants? Big ones, like Amelia? Hm?”

From AJ, no answer.

“Hmmm, no. I think I know...I know what you want,” she continued, wickedly aware now of where his mind was,  “Maybe I should let you get me pregnant, so they swell up..?” She smiled, feeling his body tense up, quiver under her. She’d struck a chord. “So my milk comes in?”

Beneath her AJ groaned, loudly. 

So that’s another thing, hm? she laughed to herself. Typical, not surprising. Men wanted back on the tit, it just made sense, and she’d suspected it for a while now with him. She could use this, she mused. Oh yes, this was good...

“I saw how you woke up sucking your thumb last night,” she asked him, sliding her right hand up over his jaw, his cheek, to his lips, “Were you thinking about me?”

She put a finger in his mouth, watched his eyes go wide, his whole body spasm, again. “It’s okay, sweetie...” she offered, “...suck.” 

His eyes fluttered, he was close. There was no stopping it now. He sealed his lips around her forefinger, and began to suck. 

“There you go….” Angie purred, in a satisfied drawl. She felt his hips start to clench, and suddenly it was time.  She sped up in her stroking, to bring him home.  This was it. It’s too much for him. “Come for me,” she whispered, her hand beating him now, “Come for mommy…”

In a burst, in a groan, in a tensing spasm that shook the bed, AJ came in her hand. His mouth loosened its suction on her finger, so he could bleat his pleasures, but his eyes stayed wide on her tit. She milked him through his climax, purring little, maternal adulations along the way. Finally, his eyes closed, and he sank back into his pillow. 

She sat back, up straight, regarded the scene with a crooked, knowing smile. She wiped her hand on his belly. 

“Clean yourself up, get yourself ready,” she told him, standing up now after allowing him his few quiet moments of shame, “We’ve got all day together, baby…”

=============================

Co-written with AgeOfTheGiantess. More imagery, bonus storylines and other cool stuff at my Patreon

#Growing Into the Job

[amiableness]

Still Best Friends {1}

word count: 2.6k

warnings: smut

summary: y/n has always liked JJ until they sleep together and things begin to change

a/n: this is horrible but its my first time writing so there is for sure room for improvement

“Truth, Y/n.” You lifted your beer towards John B as your way to tell him to continue. The three of you were lounging around on the boat while drinking beers and playing truth or dare. So far most of them had become truths, you didn’t mind though, you were pretty nosey when it came to your friends.

“Best guy you’ve ever been with?” You let out a quick laugh before taking a drink and sighing.

“No one.”

“No one? Come on, you gotta answer better than that.” John B gave a look as Sarah leaned against his shoulder.

“That’s my answer, guys aren’t as good in bed as they let on.” You knew when the six of you started playing this game, you were gonna run into a question that made you slightly uncomfortable. You had only been with three guys, but none of them were anything to brag about. Your first time you knew it wasn’t going to be anything great, it was your first time, you expected that. However, it never got any better like you had heard it was supposed to, so you gave up on your fantasy of great sex. Maybe that just wasn’t ever going to happen for you. Maybe you were going to have to fake your orgasms for the rest of your life, and once they were gone deal with it yourself.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been with a guy who is good in bed?” Kiara questioned leaning forward to look at you. Pope was sitting next to her, sending you a surprised look. She knew this already, you knew she was just teasing you because she knew about your crush on JJ. After coming over to her house beyond mad that you had yet again another disappointing night in bed, you let it slip that maybe if you hooked up with JJ this wouldn’t happen. She knew you weren’t the type for a random hookup though, and she quickly caught on to your crush.

“That’s what I’m saying, yes.”

“So you’ve never finished with them?” JJ questioned and you quickly tried to hide behind your beer bottle as you looked at him.

“Sorry some guys aren’t as good in bed as you claim to be.” You quickly teased him, receiving a smile and a shake of the head in return. You didn’t want to be having this conversation anymore. Especially if JJ was going to add to it. The idea of having a conversation about your sex life with JJ wasn’t a good idea to you. Especially since he’s the guy who’s in your head as your finish yourself off when the sex is less than pleasing to you.

“Kie, your turn.” You called trying to shake off the attention on you. As comfortable as you felt around your friends, talking about you terrible sex life wasn’t one you were willingly to share. It was embarrassing to you, you didn’t want them all to know that you had never once finished in the bedroom with someone else. You were starting to think that maybe you were the common denominator.

By the time you guys were all walking back to the Chateau from the boat, it was getting pretty dark out. You all seemed to be calling it an early night, which was a bit unusual for all of you. As you all made your way to the tiny, run-down house, you noticed Sarah leaning against John B as he held an arm around her waist. Pope and Kiara were walking ahead of everyone laughing about something quietly. That left you and JJ walking behind the four. You tried not to focus too hard on his presence next to you, but that had never been easy for you.

Ever since you had met the group a few years ago, you had found yourself drawn to JJ. He was unlike any guy you had ever liked before, and maybe that’s why you ended up liking him so much. The only person who knew about your crush on JJ was Kiara, and she kept the secret well. She had tried to convince you to just tell JJ, but you never listened. It was a secret you always wanted to keep hidden.

“Are you heading home after this?” You glanced over at your best friend next to you. The fact he didn’t have a shirt on distracting you briefly.

“Probably, the couples seem to be ready to end the night early.” Even though Kiara and Pope weren’t a couple, you and JJ had always joked they were in secret. You both thought they would work well together.

“Want me to walk you home? I got nothing better to do.” He nudged you softly with his shoulder and you smiled.

“Glad to be your number one choice.”

Sarah was spending the night so John B rushed the rest of you guys out. You quickly said your goodbyes before heading out with JJ towards your house. When Kiara noticed she sent you the biggest grin and a wink which you were really hoping JJ hadn’t seen.

The walk to your house was relatively quiet except for a few jokes every once in a while between the two of you. You tried to ignore how your hands would brush every once in awhile, it made your heart speed up every time. You couldn’t tell if JJ just wasn’t effected by it or he just didn’t notice.

“So, no one at all huh?” You could see your tiny white house coming up ahead of you. Your mom wasn’t home, she rarely was. She was always working, she said she wanted a better life for the two of you. You didn’t mind the life you had, you just wanted her home.

“What?” You hummed.

“Earlier tonight, you haven’t finished with anyone.” Your body tensed and you felt your face heat up. JJ laughed slightly at your reaction.

“Oh, yea no I haven’t.” You waited for JJ to tease you about it and make fun of you just a little, but it never came.

“Damn.” You shrugged your shoulders as you reached your front door and began to unlock it.

“I guess, pretty sure it’s my fault though so I can’t complain. Are you coming in?” It was your usual routine to have JJ hangout at yours for a bit after he walked you home. Sometimes if your mom wasn’t home and he just felt like he couldn’t go home, you let him stay. He always slept in your bed with you, it made you nervous every time, but nothing had ever happened. It was just a friend helping another friend out, how it will always be.

“Yea, if that’s okay.” He answered walking through the door and locking it behind him. You simply nodded. The house was slightly messy from the last time your mom was here, she never had enough time to clean up after herself after she came home from one job and headed to the next.

“Y/n.” You turned around from picking up your mess to see JJ sitting on the couch watching you. You set down the empty glasses you were holding and sat down next to him pulling your legs to the side of you while facing him.

“Yea?”

“Want some help?”

“Oh, it’s okay I just gotta do dishes and-“

“Not with that.” You stopped talking, he wasn’t talking about the dishes. You opened your mouth and closed it, not sure what to say. After those words left his mouth you were aware just how close you were to him and you were sure he could tell you were insanely nervous.

“You mean with sex?” You asked, your voice sounding unsure. JJ laughed a little a ran his hand through his hair.

“Not really helping you, just thought I could be that guy that actually makes you cum.” Was he messing with you? Why would he want to help you out with this? I mean, he would be having sex and since when has JJ ever turned that down.

“I wouldn’t want it to get awkward between us.”

“We’re best friends, that’s never gonna change.” Right, just best friends. Part of you wanted to tell him no, and that it wouldn’t be a good idea. But another part of you wanted to take the one chance with JJ you would ever get with him. You already knew he just saw you as a friend, so it’s not like it would be a big deal to spend one night together. Just sex, just one time.

“Let’s do it, what’s the worst that could happen.” Your voice sounded a lot more confident than you felt. JJ took those words to lean even closer to you than he was, letting his lips brush against yours. Your body froze as his fingers traced your thigh slowly leaving a trail of goosebumps behind them.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? You’re pretty tense.” JJ drew back a little to get a good look at you and before you could let yourself overthink anything else you, you placed your hands in front of you to steady yourself and placed your lips against his. It didn’t take him long to react, quickly kissing you back and threading his hand through the back of your hair to pull you closer. With him tugging you closer to him, you slid yourself into his lap to kiss him even harder.

You were quickly becoming lost in him as you both let your hands roam and your lips travel. He trailed soft kisses down your neck that had you leaning your head back to give him more room. Your head was spinning and you felt hot. Even with your tank top, bikini top under and shorts on, you were overheating. You knew it was mostly likely due to the boy you have had feeling for so long kissing down your neck and gripping your thighs like he never wanted to let go.

Your moans and sighs we’re getting slightly louder by each passing minute, a little nervous to show JJ just how into it you truly were. You hadn’t ever been thus turned on by a guy before, and it was probably because none of them were ever JJ. Between kisses you felt JJ grip your thighs and pick you up, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. You knew he was heading to your room and the thought of that had you growing more excited than you were before. He sat you on the edge of your bed lifting your arms so he could take off your tank top. You were left in a tiny baby pink bikini top on, you definitely should've gone a size up when you bought it.

“Always thought you looked so fucking hot wearing this.” He mumbles as he pulls away to look at you and his words leave you feeling breathless. You didn’t know he even noticed you when you were in a bikini.

As he kisses around the top he grabs your hand and pulls you up gently, just enough so he can spin you so you back is nearly against him as he undone a the bikini top. Your nipples harden as the top falls and hits the floor. You feel JJ push the hair away from your neck as he leaves soft kisses on your neck. You turn around to kiss him again but he stops you as he looks at your body. He looks completely turned on just by looking at you.

“You’re fucking beautiful, baby.” Your breath hitches at the nick name and you quickly press your lips to his as a thank you.

“Arms up, J.” You grab then hem of his shirt and tug it up and toss it across your room. The first time you’re fully able to stare at JJ and not worry about being caught. He leans you back down so he can kiss across your chest, teasing you by brushing his lips softly against your nipples earring a moan from you every time.

“Quit teasing.” Only then is when he swirls his tongue around your nipple making your back arch.

You find yourself quickly being pressed against the bed again as JJ slips your shorts and underwear down your thighs, leaving you completely bare in front of him. You’re about to protest that he’s still clothed but he slips his shorts and underwear down too.

Seeing him completely naked and hard has made you want him more than you ever thought was possibly. You’re soaking wet by this point, and he knows it.

“Spread your legs.” You do as he tells you and you lean back against the sheets. His large hands hold your thighs and he teases you by running his fingers along the outside of your pussy. With your moans and your whines for him to stop teasing it doesn’t take long before you’re watching his fingers pump in and out of you. He doesn’t let it last long though, and you’re disappointed when he pulls away from you and tells you to sit up.

He places a few kisses to your lips before whispering against them.

“Bend over, baby.”

You lay against the bed and stick your ass into the air and your feel JJ’s hands roaming over your back and your ass. You can hear the packaging of the condom as you lay against the sheets trying to calm your mind. You gasp as you can feel him teasing your clit with his cock before pushing into you, hardly giving you any warning. You let out a loud moan as you sink further into your bed. All the times you had been with other guys they had never wanted to try this position and you were really feeling the difference. The room was filled was the sounds of both your moans and the sounds of JJ thrusting into you. As loud as you two were being, you were really hoping your neighbors couldn’t hear.

JJ teased you with slow thrusts until you were begging for him to fuck you hard. By the time he sped up you were so close and couldn’t stop all the noises falling from your mouth.

“You’re so fucking pretty bent over like this.” He complimented you before sliding back into you as you gripped the sheets and cried out. It felt like ages that you bent over against the bed as JJ had his way with you. Your back was starting to ache but the feeling of him filling you up overpowered that.

He grabbed your hips and flipped you over so you were on your back and spread your legs. His chest was against yours as he slipped back into you and he pressed kisses against your lips and neck as he fucked you.

“I’m not gonna be able to last much longer.” His voice was raspy and it nearly made your eyes roll back. You simply nodded, not trusting that you could even use your voice to tell him you were close too. He fucked you hard the last few times before the two of you were complete messes tangled together as you came. Both your breathing was heavy as he fell against his back pulling you onto his chest. The two of you laid there with your fingers tangled together.

“Still best friends right?” You asked, part of you hoping he’d say something else.

“Still best friends.” He said as he pressed a kiss against your head.

#jj maybank obx #jj x y/n #jj maybank x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #obx imagine #obx x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #jj obx #obx smut #outer banks angst #outer banks smut #outer banks story #smut

[bisexualkiecarrera]

4 times JJ complimented you + 1 time you complimented him

JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

wordcount: 3.5k+

warnings: just drinking, smoking and cursing!

1. 

Hanging out in a group of only hot guys and your best friend Kie wasn’t always easy. You loved your friends dearly and normally, any day spent with them was a good one. There were just some days that you just couldn’t bring yourself to have fun when all you could think about was how you looked in your bathing suit. 

You’d explained it to Kiara during a sleepover once when she asked why you hadn’t come in the water that day, opting to stay on the boat in your baggy t-shirt. She didn’t really understand but she tried her best to be helpful whenever she saw you get in your own head after that. John B and Pope were either absolutely oblivious or smart enough to know not to push the subject when you answered their concerned questions with “I’m just a little tired, don’t worry about it.” JJ knew without you ever muttering a word, familiar with the feeling of being uncomfortable showing people your body, even if it was for a completely different reason. 

The day in question was the hottest day of the year so far, and even though you were sitting in the smallest bit of shade the HMS Pogue’s tiny driving console provided, you felt a line of sweat drip down your spine. 

“Babe, come in! Seriously, it’s way too hot for you to not be in the water!” Kiara called as she swam up to the side of the boat, head barely resting on its edge. Your eyes skittered over to the boys, treading water several yards away, but the only one who seemed to be listening to your conversation was JJ. He gave a small encouraging smile before turning back to the two boys splashing each other like children. 

You bit at your lip for a second, mulling over your decision before realizing it really was too hot to stay dry. You mumbled out a “fine” as you went to slip your arms out of your sleeves, “but go back to the boys and I’ll meet you over there.” Kiara gave you a wide smile before pushing off the boat, swimming gracefully back towards the group. 

You shed your shirt quickly and got in the water, trying your hardest to make as small of a splash as possible. You sink your head under the water, wetting your hair as you make your way towards your friends. You take a look at Pope now floating peacefully on his back and make eye contact with a smiling John B. “Hey, little minnow. Nice of you to join us.” You roll your eyes fondly at the nickname, leftover from when you were kids. Back before you the world taught you to be self conscious, it was nearly impossible to get you out of the water and back into regular summer clothes, and so your fishy nickname was born.

You wink at JB before swimming quietly towards Pope, who still had his eyes closed as he faced the sky. You get close before stilling for a second, letting the waves settle around you. You lean in towards his ear and let out a “boo!,” sending the boy flailing. The three others laugh off to the side as you and Pope begin a splash fight. Not long after, JB can’t help but join in, followed by Kie. You take this as an opportunity to wade over to JJ, who’s looking at you with pride mixed with something you can’t quite place. “What’s the look for, J?” He takes a second to look over your face again, brow furrowed slightly in confusion. 

He shrugs a little as he answers, meeting your eyes. “You just look really pretty like this, all happy and back in the water.” You feel heat unrelated to the temperature cover your face as your eyes dart back to your friends, Kie now hanging on Pope’s back. 

“You’re just glad there’s finally someone who can beat JB in a race in the water.”

2.

A movie night at the Chateau just isn’t complete without an all-out pig fest, food scattered on every counter and table. Kie is generous enough to supply you all with enough fries from The Wreck to last a lifetime, and Pope brings along some ice cream, but always the cheap kind that his dad is willing to part with. John B mans the grill, making you all hot dogs and cheeseburgers while JJ provides the bud and whatever beer he can steal out of his fridge or convince his cousin to buy for him. Over the years, he’s also claimed the spot as your assistant, hovering over your shoulder as you move around the Chateau’s already cramped kitchen making brownies. 

It’s been years that you’ve been making what you call “kitchen sink” brownies for you and JJ and JB. They appear at every birthday and holiday and whenever someone is especially sad. They’re really just boxed brownies with whatever snacks you can find thrown into the batter, but JJ loves to be the one who gets to crunch up the toppings and sprinkle them, and you figure that the world owes JJ Maybank every second of happiness he can find. Tonight, the search through your kitchen at home proved especially successful, coming away with not only chips and pretzels, but also mini oreos and a pack of m&ms. 

JJ walks around the counter to see your finds spread out on the counter and his jaw drops. Your giggle tears his eyes away from the assortment and he raises one eyebrow in question. “You’re sure your parents are cool with you taking all this stuff?” The question makes you laugh, and you lean in like you’re about to tell JJ a secret.

“If I’m gonna be honest,” you drop your voice to an almost-whisper, “I think my mom bought extra snacks this week just for this.” A small smile appears on his face, and if you hadn’t known him for so long, you would have no clue that there was a little sadness behind it, thinking of his own parental situation in comparison to yours. “C’mon, J. Batter’s done, pan is greased. All I need is your supreme topping skills.” 

What seems like forever, but in reality is only 30 minutes, passes by before you slip back into the kitchen to take your brownies out of the oven. The raggedy oven mitt JB leaves on the counter for you is barely hanging on by a thread so you grab the extra cleaning rag to wrap around your covered hand for protection. The second the pan touches the oven, JJ is there behind you, looking over your shoulder. You turn to him, eyebrows raised in scolding as his hands fall to your hips. You place your hands on the plane of his chest and push gently backwards, shaking your head. “I’ll put a five minute timer on. Go sit, you know they’re too hot right now.”  He allows you to guide him back to the couch before you pull out your phone and set the alarm, pulling you to settle into his side. 

The timer goes off and JJ jumps so quickly it genuinely startles you. You all share a chuckle at how fast his feet moved, and in no time at all, he’s back next to you, a brownie on a paper towel in each hand. He extends one out to you and you gladly take it. “Hey, man, thanks for getting me one too, really thoughtful of you,” John B says as he makes his way to the kitchen to cut one for himself and Kie and Pope. JJ’s mouth is already full of brownie and there’s a smug smile on his face as he swallows. He shouts a “yeah, of course, buddy!,” after your friend’s retreating figure before turning to you. 

“You know these brownies are ring-worthy, right? Like, SO fucking good I’m considering proposing right now.” 

You giggle at the statement as crumbs fall from his lip. Your only answer is “JJ, you know you did half the fucking work, right?” He laughs at your response and wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Guess that makes us both wifey material!”

3. 

By far, your least favorite part of your friendship with JJ is tending to his various cuts, bumps and bruises. Between JJ’s general recklessness, his ongoing beef with Rafe Cameron, and Luke Maybank himself, it felt as though you spent every other day standing between his knees as he sat on your bathroom counter. This time, a particularly heated run in with the kooks had thankfully left JJ with nothing but a busted lip, bloody knuckles and an adrenaline high. His mouth was running a mile a minute, recounting every step of the fight despite the fact that you’d witnessed it all first hand. 

“Did you see the look on Rafe’s face when he hit the ground? Absolutely unreal!” You let out a frustrated huff as he waved his hands wildly, not noticing your own hand outstretched to grab his. 

“Yeah, J, I saw but please give me your hands. I need to put antiseptic on.” Your voice is a little pleading and he quiets at your request, laying his wrist in your hand and watching your face as you get to work. You dab at the cuts with a soaked cotton ball, and it doesn’t escape either of you that JJ no longer flinches at the sting. Once you’ve moved on to the other hand, his stare intensifies as you carefully move his rings around to make sure there’s no hidden nicks underneath them. When it’s time for you to move onto his face, he places his hands gently in his lap and lets you inspect his face closely, turning it from side to side with a finger at his chin. Your demeanor lightens a little when you’ve decided the damage is as minimal as possible. “Really glad you managed to keep Rafe away from the money maker this time. Well, mostly.” You punctuate your point by pressing the cotton to the tear in his lip and the pressure makes him hiss. You pull your hand away and grab the vaseline, smearing a small amount over the cut as gently as possible. “You really should ice that, J. Keep the swelling to a minimum.”

You realize a little belatedly that he hasn’t taken his eyes off your face the entire time you’ve been working and your eyes raise to meet his. The look in his eyes is a little confusing and a little startling, and his voice is gentle when he says “Thank you for patching me up. You always take the best care of me.” 

You let out a deep sigh before patting his leg gently and moving towards the door. “I think I could find work as a school nurse with all this experience you’ve given me.”

4. 

A boneyard party used to be your absolute favorite way to blow off steam on a Friday night. The sand, music, booze and weed were the easiest way to melt away the stress of a long week, but lately, the stress of seeing your best friend sneak off with some random had you absolutely dreading stepping foot on the beach. Most of the time, you had a pretty easy time keeping your less than platonic feelings for JJ at bay. You always rationalized swallowing your emotions down by telling yourself that you both needed each other as a friend way too much to jeopardize that. It was getting harder and harder to listen to your own advice lately, and partly because you weren’t quite sure what he was feeling. He’d been especially affectionate lately, not giving second thought to curling his body around yours on cold nights around the fire. His compliments had become less silly and teasing, and sometimes when he looked at you, it felt like he was staring straight into your soul. 

Tonight, you’d allowed Kie to pick you out an outfit from your closet, not wanting to spend time debating with yourself and getting yourself stressed. She’d picked out a pair of high waisted denim shorts and a cropped white t shirt, topped with a yellow scarf to tie around your ponytail. It was simple enough that she knew you’d be comfortable but cute enough that you’d feel confident. 

Secretly, she’d also seen the way JJ eyes had dragged slowly over your figure when you’d worn those shorts the week prior. Neither of you had spoken to her, or Pope or JB, about your feelings for the other, but they as a group had all witnessed the gentle way you handled each other and had their suspicions that one of you would break soon. She’d driven you to the boneyard, promising to stay sober enough to relocate you all back to the Chateau at the end of the night. She pulled your hand along, heading straight to where she knew your friends would be congregating, just behind the keg. JB and Pope each had a full cup in hand when you approached and JJ had a joint hanging from the side of his mouth. “Gentlemen, let’s get it going,” Kie startled the boys, a giant smile across her face. 

A few hours into the party and a considerable amount of beer later, the realization hit you that JJ hadn’t wandered off to find someone to mack on yet. He’d even turned down the touron who approached him first, despite her tiny skirt and flawless makeup. It had to be some sort of record for him, usually his presence at these parties was fleeting. You thought back to just the week before when you’d watched him lead a beautiful curly-haired girl back to the Twinkie. You’d felt nauseous watching them flirt, his legs parted as he sat on a low hanging branch with her settled between them. Her hands rested on his chest as she stared up at him from under her eyelashes and you had to rip your gaze from the pair when he slid from his perch and wrapped her hand in his. You kept your eyes on the ground as they passed, but like a train wreck you couldn’t help but watch, you were unable to stop yourself from throwing a last glance in their direction as they approached the van. He’d turned to look at her with a sly smile on his face and must have caught your eye over her shoulder. His smile dropped quickly and something looking like an apology crossed his face for a second but when you looked away again, focusing on holding the burning tears in your eyes back, he recovered and smiled back at the girl, pulling her into the spacious backseat. 

Even just the memory had you tense, and JJ felt the uneasiness radiate off of you from his position by your side. He called your name gently so as to not call attention to the two of you and you turned your head quickly, blinking away your thoughts. Your eyes focused on the concerned look on his face. “You alright? Did someone upset you?” JJ’s eyes were already scanning the crowd for who could have possibly upset you and it pulled a small smile to your face. 

“No, J, I’m alright, just thinking. All good now.” His face turned back to you, a small pout gracing his lips. He asks if you’re sure and when you nod in agreement, he turns his attention back to your friends. The two of you watch Pope and John B argue about if Gatorade was actually better for you than regular water or not for a few minutes before you turn back to JJ. “Hey, JJ?” Your voice is small and it surprises the boy beside you to hear you so timid. When his attention is turned on you completely, you start your question. “Is there a reason you turned down that girl before? She was like, stupidly pretty.” You’re finding it a little hard to meet JJ’s eyes as you ask, so you fiddle with the strings on your bracelet instead. 

A small chuckle leaves his lips before he replies with “I got the prettiest girl at the party standing next to me already. Why would I leave?” Your eyes meet his and there’s no humor anywhere on his face and you can feel yourself get hot under his gaze. You’re left speechless for a second before the sound of Kie’s voice pulls you from the moment. You clear your throat and turn back to your friends, mumbling under your breath. JJ replies with a “hmm?” and you repeat yourself a little louder this time, so he can just hear you.

“Kiss ass.”

+1

Somehow, Kiara had managed to convince her parents to allow you to come to Midsummers as her guest and by an even greater miracle, you’d managed to save enough babysitting money to buy yourself an appropriately fancy dress, floor length and blue with pretty flowers embroidered on it. You arrive at the Carreras’ house early in the afternoon to begin getting ready, helping Kie put her hair up with some flowers pinned in. You chose to keep yours mostly down and let your best friend weave some braids in, tiny beads sprinkled down the length of them. Neither of you put on very much makeup, but it was still more than you’d worn in recent memory, and it felt nice to look in the mirror and actually feel pretty and put together. Kie comes up behind you as you look in the full length mirror and wraps her arms around your waist, chin resting gently on your shoulder. “We look fucking good, don’t we?” She giggles and scrunches her nose up as you meet her eyes in the mirror. 

You nod emphatically before turning to face her, a wide smile on your face. “Hell yeah, we do, baby! The lady pogues know how to clean up good!” Your response makes her laugh, head thrown back, and it makes you wish all your friends would be in attendance, despite how much you love girl time with just you and Kie. 

Your dreams of being able to spend the night with all of your friends almost came true, spotting John B on Sarah’s arm from across the room upon your arrival. The night became even sweeter when you saw Pope standing next to his father, but even as the five of you stood together at the edge of the party, people watching and laughing, you couldn’t shake the feeling that JJ was the piece you were missing most. Kiara and Sarah left to make their way to the restroom and Pope was pulled away to help his dad, leaving you and JB standing in the corner. “You should go see him, you know. Skip out early, I’m sure Kie wouldn’t mind.” You turn to look at your friend, confused at his sudden idea. You had a feeling you knew exactly what he was saying, but you waited for clarification, fiddling with the glass in your hand. “JJ is at the Chateau and before I left, he seemed pretty upset that he wouldn’t get to see you in your dress.” 

He holds out the key to the twinkie and your jaw drops a little, and it makes JB chuckle, shaking his head slightly at your obliviousness. It really hits you all at once, exactly what JJ’s recent change in behavior meant. The intense stares, the end of his slew of meaningless hookups, and especially the sincere compliments that you’d been taking as a joke. You knew you had to see him, so you looked up at JB and handed him your glass, taking his keys from him. “Tell Kie where I went, please.” You turned and started to make your way through the crowd and you heard John B’s cheer through the noise of the party, smiling as you reached the door. 

You don’t even bother turning the radio on when you get in the van, the pounding of your heart loud enough. When you get to the front door of the Chateau, you can hear the television on and it takes a second to see JJ’s outline resting on the couch. The front door slams behind you and JJ doesn’t turn right away. “Jeebs, why are you ho-” The question catches in his throat when he turns and sees you in the doorway instead of John B. He breathes out a quiet “wow, hi.” You move towards him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders so that his hands fall at your hips. 

“JB told me you wanted to see me in my dress, so here I am.” You look up at him teasingly as a blush spreads across his cheeks. “Plus, I couldn’t really have any fun at the kook party. The cutest boy in town wasn’t there.” It’s JJ’s turn to be left speechless and it makes you giggle. The sound pulls him out of his trance and its milliseconds before his lips are pressed to yours. You snake your fingers into his blond hair and you feel his hands squeeze at the meat of your hips as your lips part and he licks into your mouth gently. It feels a thousand years before you pull away, resting your forehead against his. “You’re my favorite person, JJ Maybank. I think you always will be.”

#outer banks #netflix obx #obx #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope heyward #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #rudy pankow #mine #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow imagine #rudy pankow fanfiction #rudy pankow x reader

[r6shippingdelivery]

Outsider pov of a cashier at a shoo near the base has a crush on kapkan or glaz/chanka and slowly over time realized they are together, either by learning russian, seeing them be cutesy or smthn idk

I was about to go for the easy option, but then Tachanka's rework and elite came out, and with so many people thisting openly after him, I took this route instead, because Tachanka deserves at least one (1) lovestruck cashier fangirling over him :D 

And as always, you can read this on AO3 too, second chapter of the Tachanka/Kapkan ficlet colletion, woo!

Being a shopkeeper was terribly dull work, especially in a small town like Hereford. Same faces day in day out, same old stories. It was all so repetitive, she could have gone through it with her eyes closed. The most exciting thing she remembered was when old Daniels’ goose escaped from its pen and got inside Harriet’s pub. That was six months ago, and people still talked about it like it happened yesterday.

Then one day more people started appearing around. More often than not, foreigners. Everyone whispered about the nearby military base, looking at the newcomers with distrust, but she was over the moon. New and interesting people, that was exactly what the town needed. Who cared if they were military, they bought stuff like everyone else, right? And since her little shop was at the edge of town, it was often a place these people visited. That and the pub.

She liked to observe them and make stories about who they could be. For example, the young one with the Yorkshire accent, she could see him being the son of a general, and was following in his father’s footsteps. Of course, she knew the likelihood of getting any single detail right was minimal, but it was a fun way to pass the time.

_ _ _

It had been a boring day, and she was on her phone, browsing Instagram, when someone dropped a few items by the register. Anyone would admit the guy cut an imposing figure, being so tall and wide. And while most people would eye him warily, both suspicious and afraid, her mind had turned to mush in an instant.

Those arms looked like they’d make the sleeves rip if he flexed, and the hint of tattoos she glimpsed from his open shirt, oh goodness! Who cared he was a bit too old for her, looking was free and it hurt no one. Because yes, she was aware she was drooling over a stranger, but as long as every saucy thought remained in her head, there was no harm and she wouldn’t come off as a sexualizing creep. She barely paid attention to the items she rang, mostly beer and pickles, too busy stealing glances at this adonis in front of her.

“How much is this?” The man asked.

The first thing she noticed was the deliciously deep voice and the heavy Russian accent. Second, he was pointing at a cheap kid princess set, with a plastic tiara and wand. So not only was he sinfully attractive, he was a dad who thought of his girl too. She almost wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Luckily, she didn’t stammer when talking, but after that everything was kind of a blur. He left, and she kept a dopey smile on her face for the rest of her shift. Holy shit, you didn’t see men like that around this little town! _ _ _

Next time the big guy came to the shop, another dude accompanied him. One who had really nice eyes but looked like he was sulking or trying to hide from everyone. Mr. Grumpy, as she dubbed him, was quite handsome too, but not as much as his companion.

They wandered around the shop, talking in Russian and loading their basket. Despite not understanding a thing, she strained to hear what they were saying. She felt like a gossipy old woman, but at least she was able to catch their names: Sasha and Maxim. Pretty sure the absolute hunk was Sasha, and Mr. Grumpy Maxim, but she couldn’t be certain. Sasha didn’t sound very fitting for him, though.

This time she paid attention to the purchase, a ton of booze, and couldn’t help herself from asking, “Did you little princess like the toys?”

He laughed, which made Mr. Grumpy scowl, and answered, “It was perfect.”

_ _ _

A quick research showed her that Sasha was actually a nickname for Alexander, and that was a much more regal name, befitting of him. For some reason she had thought Sasha to be a feminine name, although it possibly was a nickname for Alexandra too. Armed with that knowledge, she was now totally confident in dropping her made up nicknames and using Sasha and Maxim instead.

However, neither of them showed up at the store for two long weeks. When she finally saw them again, they both looked dead tired. Maxim stayed by the door, looking grumpier than ever, while Alexander went to buy some cigarettes and assorted snacks. She gathered the courage to say “Welcome back” to him, in what she considered a subtle attempt at letting him know she noticed his absence. Alexander just nodded, but she liked to think his eyes brightened up a little.

On the way out, he handed a candy bar to Maxim, who looked surprised and hesitant to grab it. Alexander wouldn’t take a no for an answer though, and Mr. Grumpy smiled at him while unwrapping the chocolate. How sweet, Alexander was such a considerate friend.

_ _ _

After that she saw them much often around, much to her delight. Sometimes it was just Alexander, others he came with some other Russian guys, but most often he was with Maxim. These two seemed almost inseparable.

The purchases were mundane yet never the same, which sparked her interest. Most people had stuff they bought often, what she called “the usual” of each customer. But not them. It was like they wanted to try everything or get a sample of all the items available, one by one. Although watching them interact was far more entertaining than what they bought.

These two bickered constantly, like an old married couple, and she was dying of curiosity to know what they talked about. However, short of learning Russian, she would have to live with that mystery. Observing their body language sometimes offered a little insight, but not much. She noticed they were quite touchy, more than the average guy friends around here, but it was probably a cultural thing. There was also the time she could have sworn they kissed.

It was just a peck on the lips, so fast that she even doubted what she’d seen. But then Maxim scoffed and half-heartedly punched Alexander, shoving him away. Alexander didn’t take it badly. In fact, he was laughing, which only added to her confusion.

She even watched the security footage to make sure she didn’t just imagine that. And there it was, a fleeting contact that lasted a few seconds. Friendly mouth kisses were a thing in the ex-soviet countries, right? At least that was what she heard...

_ _ _

For the next few weeks, every time she saw them, she kept thinking about what their relationship was exactly. And they came to the shop pretty often.

All their interactions showed a certain closeness between them, yet a friendship could easily explain it. Aside from that one time, she never saw them kiss again, but she kept wondering. At first she assumed he was married and with a kid at least, a little girl. But maybe he was divorced. He could be unfaithful, but she didn’t like to think about that possibility. Perhaps he was with his grumpy partner and… they adopted? No, this was far fetched, she felt. They were Russian and military, no way.

The confirmation that these two were together came in two parts. First was the time Alexander bought condoms. She couldn’t help noticing it was the XL kind, and wow, whoever was the lucky one, she low-key envied them. The most revealing thing that day was the smirk Alexander gave to Maxim, whom for once didn’t look grumpy, but flustered.

The second and final confirmation was only scant days later, when Maxim got a phone call while they were shopping. The conversation was in English, and at one point he asked for Alexander’s opinion on what option he preferred, to which he asked “Whatever you like best, princess.“

In that moment, everything clicked into place. She had always known she had no chance with him, mainly because she thought he was married and she was no home-wrecker. And yes, he was taken, but not in the way she imagined at first. That was fine; looking was free and she was always discreet in her ogling. Besides, while imagining Mr. Grumpy being gifted a cheap princess crown was hilarious, it was also cute in a certain way.

“You better treat this man like a king,” She mentally addressed Maxim. Because from what she had seen, Alexander definitely seemed the type to treat his partner like royalty.

They looked happy together, though, and that was always nice. Good relationships were hard to find, and she wished them the best.  But it would also be great if she had the chance to see Alexander shirtless, at least once. A gal could feast her eyes and daydream, right?

#rainbow 6 siege #r6s #rainbow six siege #kapkan #tachanka #fanfiction #Anonymous

[academicallysimping]

Shoto Todoroki: “flirty drunk”

fluff/imagine

TW: Alcohol/drinking

length: 2,560

Female reader

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

All Characters mentioned are over 18

After graduating from UA you had heard that the school staff had made a college to further help the students work on their quirks.

Your grades were beyond good for going to UA university and so was your quirk, especially when it was as strong as it was. You even found out that both the Deku and Baku-squad were going to UAU, alongside you.

While unpacking all your things Mina, Momo, and Tysu came over and talked about the things you guys were most excited for during your future years at university.

You had never told them about your crush, simply because it never came up on conversation. 

And, just like magic, your said crush had texted you asking if you wanted to eat out at both your favorite soba place. After agreeing, you rushed the girls out of your dorm and immediately started getting ready. You ended up changing your outfit into a simple T-shirt and jean with some basic sneakers. 

After changing, you put some lip gloss on and fixed your mascara and fixing your hair. The text read that said crush was going to wait for in the common room.

There he stood. Todoroki Shoto, to you, he was the sweetest, funniest, low-key stupid, high-key dense, and of course hottest human you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

You knew it was him based on his iconic two toned hair along with his expensive outfit, which he of course bought with his father’s money. Dressed in a nice light blue short sleeved button up with one side tucked into his black jeans, wearing a Gucci belt, that he considers cheap, and nice, yet casual black dress shoes.

Todoroki was looking down at his phone, pushing his mixed hair off his forehead while a few strands didn’t fit in between his fingers letting them lay on his temples. When you finally make your presence noticeable by walk up to him and tapping his shoulder, looking up from his phone quite fast, nearly giving himself whiplash.

“Oh, hello y/n. I didn’t notice you had arrived.” He said as he greeted you.

“Hello Todoroki, I hope you don’t mind that I’m a little early.” You reply to his greeting.

“Well, then technically both of us are early.” He let out a small chuckle making you blush.

“Well, I guess we are,” you giggle, “do you wanna head out now or would you rather wait?” You asked hoping for the former.

“We can go now, if you like?” He says, holding out his arm for you to take.

You happily link your arm with his, “ I would love to!” Smiling and blushing up to him, due to your height difference.

You could’ve sworn you saw him blush back at you but decided that it was just your mind playing tricks on you. Walking to the elevator, arms linked, and both of you slightly smiling to yourselves, you started what was considered to you a date.

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

Whenever Todoroki was in your presence he could never think straight. Although he seemed calm and collected he was actually overthinking everything he said and did. His heart pounding in his ears as he hears you laugh at something out on the street.

One of the reason you both liked the Soba place was because, at the front of the shop, there was a window with a counter and bar stools for the customers to sit at.  Since the shop was surrounded by bars and karaoke places when it got late and all the drunks got kicked out of the bars and the people would go out and do stupid stuff.

While you guys ate, your favorite thing to do was to go really late at night, around 12:00 or 1:30am, and make fun of the people and things they did while drunk, since that was when everyone started to get kicked out.

Shoto couldn’t help but smile a small smile while looking at you in awe as you giggled and laughed. To him all he wanted to do was hear you laugh. When you started to come down from the cloud nine that you where on, you looked to him.

Not once did he take his eyes off of you. You had always thought that he paid no mind to you, but for him, you were the only thought.

He knew everything about you. From your different moods, to how you were with your friends, or your little ticks you would do when you where happy or anxious. He even knew your favorite foods, drinks, shows, movies, even music and the different bands you listened to. He even gave them a listen so whenever you would be listening to them and softly sing the lyrics he would softly hum the tune. 

“What? Is something on my face? Is it my hair? Did i smear my makeup?” You asked rambling as to why Todoroki was staring at you.

All he did was chuckle and pat your head, not in a childish way but in a caring ‘don’t worry’ kind of way.

“No, its nothing I was just thinking.” He said calmly though he had a slight pink color resonating on his ears.

All he could think about was how beautiful you looked laughing and just being silly together. How lucky was he to be able to spend this time with you this late at night.

What he did not expect tonight was for you to be drinking. Your exact words actually were: “We are starting Uni next week we should celebrate!” To which he said that, because of how late you guys were going to be, he would just let you enjoy yourself.

When you would get tipsy Todoroki would always make sure you were safe, but drunk y/n was by far his favorite type of y/n. You were bubbly and giggly, a light shade of pink across your nose and cheeks. It was the most adorable thing to him. You would also talk what sound to him like nonsense but, nonetheless, still cute. It was especially cute when you would speak a little bit of different languages that you learned during your last year at UA.

 After you finished off your fourth bottle of beer you both decided it was time to go back to the dorms and sleep.

Knowing you would wake up with a hangover, he got a bottle of water before you left the shop incase you wanted to sober up. Another way he knew to sober you up was by walking, so instead of walking the same route home as you came, he decided to walk the long way, obviously, making sure you stayed close to his side and making sure you didn’t walk off.

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

As both y/n and Todoroki walked down the empty streets y/n at Todoroki’s left side because she didn’t expect it to get as cold as it did that night. As she snuggled into Todoroki’s upper arm, he gently let his fire quirk warm her while his right side held the water he had gotten for y/n, keeping it cold in his hand ready for whenever she wanted to drink some.

Y/n started to mumble words that were, mostly, incoherent to Todoroki. However, he did manage to catch a few words along the lines of  "I love you” He tried to pay no mind to is but the longer you guys walked the more he started to think about what you said, although you were pretty drunk he knew that the word love, no matter what the situation was, came out easily.

“Hey y/n,” he nudged you, “what did you say?” He asked, ears burning red with anxiety for your answer.

“What do you mean silly? What did I say?” Y/n asked back shyly now full knowing that Todoroki heard her small mumbles of a mixture of her feelings for him and her appreciation for his quirk.

He stopped y/n and himself from walking any further. Turning to y/n, grabbing her upper arms to guide her to face him. He noticed how her cheeks were not as pink they were earlier but, instead, her face was now a deep shade of red. Was it from embarrassment? Was it from discomfort? Of course if y/n was uncomfortable she would’ve said something or the male would’ve noticed and stopped whatever he was doing in an effort to make her comfortable again.

He didn’t want y/n to be uncomfortable. In fact, he wanted to make her feel as comfortable as possible around him, he wanted to be there for her when she was sad and anxiety ridden just so he could make her feel better. He wanted to be the one she would call if she needed a ride home or to just chill with her in her dorm watch movies, maybe even cuddle a bit or maybe have her fall asleep with her in his arms for once. But he knew that to her he was just a friend, which is why he decided that in this moment he was just going to let his feelings flow. 

He was going to tell her and get these feelings and thoughts off his chest. After all, he couldn’t handle another night of watching y/n smile with him, at him, but not for him.

“Um, y/n I need to get something off my chest, so can you please hear me out before you say anything?” He said pushing his hair away from his face and with such feeling behind his eyes. So much feeling that even y/n started to worry. So instead of saying anything she just nodded and waited for him to speak.

“I know this is sudden but...” the words struggle to leave Todoroki. Before he could continue y/n blurted out words she was never planning on letting out.

“I LIKE YOU!” She yelled almost scaring the man in front of her. She continues her words.

“And I don’t know if you like me back, and if you dont thats okay. I just don’t wanna lose you.” She said looking down at her shoes, “And if what you’re about to say that you want to stop being friends or stop hanging out then i would be sad.” She starts to tear up and continues to ramble until a firm hand is places on her mouth making her stop talking.

Before he says anything he smiles down at her with a real smile, something she has never seen on the man in front of her. “Don’t worry about that.” He said sincerely, “I was going to say the same thing but i guess you beat me to it.” He laughed a little while looking away. When he faced y/n once again, he noticed tears slipping past her lower lashes.

“Woah, hey hey hey, what’s wrong. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” He said a frown now replacing the smile he just had, making y/n cry harder.

“I thought you wanted to drop me,” she said sniffling and wiping her face free of tears, “I was so scared. I didn’t want you to drop me because this is the only time I spend with you. I mean we don’t have class together and when school starts you will be dragged to train with Midoriya and Bakugou and I’ll be busy studying and training as well and I just didn’t want to stop hanging out with you. And on top of it this is the first time i actually see you smile and I just ruined it.” She cried a little more ending her short rant.

“Well listen baby, you never have to worry about me leaving anytime.” Wiping away some tears that fell, “I don’t plan on going anytime soon, unless you want me to,” he said hand cradling her cheek, y/n happily leaned into his warm touch, “ and even if you are a bit tipsy right now I want you to know that.” He now noticed how y/n leaned forward to lay her head on his chest.

“You promise?” She asked, almost sounding like a child.

“Yes, I promise baby.” He replied holding out his pinky for what he knew she was going to do next.

“Do you pinky promise?” She said hold her pinky out to him feeling him wrap his pinky with hers.

“I pinky promise baby.” He said placing a kiss on their intertwined pinkies and her crown head letting his lips linger. She then looks up from his chest when he pulls away. He cups her chin making her look fully up at him, his heterochromatic eyes filled with adoration and something else that she can’t quite read well. As they both lean into each other their pinkies come undone y/n’s hands raising to wrap around Todoroki’s broad, but slender shoulders, his hands resting at her waist moving comforting circles with his thumb.

“Can I-“ he’s cut off as y/n gently forces Todoroki to stop talking. The kiss is slow, sensual but with every second passing the emotion that was hidden in Todoroki’s eyes became more apparent, it was want, not the kind that made a person lust but the kind of want that made someone drop everything for one special person. And for him that special person was y/n. They both pulled away breath fanning each others face as both their foreheads rest on each other.

“I’ve wanting to do that for a long time.” Todoroki said has he lifted his head to place kisses on her cheeks and forehead and tip of her nose. She scrunched up her nose in the way he always adored. “I’m sorry if i rushed things i just...” his sentence falls off. “You just wanted to wait and make it really count?” Almost as if she read his mind he pulled her closer and nodded his head.

A few moments of silence passed before one spoke. “So if I asked you to spend the night with me in my dorm so we can cuddle and fall asleep, what would you say, hypothetically of course.” y/n finished with a giggle but not a tipsy one a sober giggle. “Well if we are talking hypothetically then i would say we should hurry up back to the dorms so we get more cuddle time don’t you think?” He replied knowing she was being serious. She looked down at the man’s slender but big hands and intertwined it with hers. “I would say that we should start heading back now.” she said dragging him in the direction of UAU.

That night y/n and Todoroki both slept very peacefully and even in the morning stayed in and cuddled while watching morning cartoons, another little tradition they did if they ever pulled an all nighter.

“You know,” Todoroki started, “we should date.” he finished as y/n started to laugh slightly trying to stay serious for the mood. “Oh? Todoroki Shoto are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” She gasped to add to the fake surprised tone in her voice. He laughed and looked down at her in his arms loving the way she looked in them. She looked up and booped his nose to which he returned with a kiss much like the one they had the previous night but longer and this one made him seem more hungry for her.

-Rose🃏

#shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader #cute todoroki #boku no hero academia #todoroki shoto x reader #mha fluff #image #shoto imagine

[belphegor1982]

…it’s done. Finished. My monster Mummy fic, the one I started in 2003, started publishing in 2004, and left dormant since 2008 – I finally completed it o.O Weirdly (or not), this is the chapter which gave me the most trouble, if you don’t count chapters 16 and 17 (which took me 2 and 16 years to write, respectively). It was hard to say goodbye to this story and these characters, even though I knew I literally just had to get an idea for another story :-/

FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM

Summary: 1937: Two years after the events of Ahm Shere, the O’Connells are “required” by the British Government to bring the Diamond taken there from Egypt to England. In Cairo, while Evelyn deals with the negotiations and Rick waits for doom to strike again, Jonathan bumps into an old friend of his from university, Tom Ferguson. Things start to go awry when the Diamond is stolen from the Museum and old loyalties are tested… (story on AO3; on FFnet)

(Chapters on Tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23)

Chapter 24: Departure (on AO3 here; on FFnet here)

London, September 1937

A little off Paddington Station, almost in Marylebone, was a small pub called the Stars and Crown, its red brick façade almost exactly similar to the others along the street. It was an unassuming little affair Jonathan liked to patronise every now and then, and not just because it happened to be situated not too far from his flat.

It was a balmy mid-September late afternoon and one of the double doors was wide open on the quiet street. Jonathan and Tom were seated by one of the stained-glass windows, drinking – G&T and a ginger beer, respectively – and talking. Jonathan, remembering the promise he’d made after blowing up Hamilton’s lorry, had bought the rounds.

But for small details like the mostly healed-over scratches on Tom’s hands, the old scar in Jonathan’s left palm, and all the subtler little ways the past two decades had changed them, they might as well have been twenty year old students again.

Well, apart from the subject of their conversation.

“I got off easy, if you ask me.”

“Nonsense. You were the only one who tried to fix this bloody disaster. It’s only fair that you didn’t… You know.”

“…Pay for my mistakes?”

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

Tom gulped a mouthful of ginger beer, still looking glum.

“I suppose – I know – I should be grateful I didn’t end up like Hamilton, at least.”

Jonathan winced.

Charles Hamilton had made it back to England in a slightly better state than he had made it out of the pyramid, but that wasn’t saying much. From what they had heard, he was lucid for about an hour a day, and that was it – and not very coherent at that. Which made the fact that he allegedly hung himself in his cell a week before his highly sensitive trial very suspicious indeed. The man didn’t appear capable of putting on his trousers on his own, let alone do anything as complex as a slipknot.

The Lord Chancellor’s Department had issued a statement half-heartedly lamenting Hamilton’s demise, the newspapers had stayed surprisingly quiet about it, and Evy had fumed for an entire fortnight. And that had been it. Hamilton had taken the gentleman’s way out. Case closed.

At least Gabriel Baine had been tried, convicted, and sent behind bars for a lengthy period of time. Jonathan didn’t particularly care where he was, as long as he could be elsewhere.

Baine had stated a few times that there hadn’t been anything personal about shooting and ordering his men to shoot Jonathan, Rick, and Tom. Jonathan had silently begged to differ. Baine’s shouts of “Kill them” followed by the sudden excruciating pain in his back, not to mention the confusion and terror as he fought not to die and lost, had felt pretty damn personal.

Tom stared into his glass for a while, then looked up with a brighter expression.

“But enough about this fiasco. How’s your family? I seem to remember your sister’s birthday was coming up, you were lookin’ for a present when we bumped into each other at that bazaar. Did you find one, in the end?”

Jonathan perked up. “I did, actually. Got her a signet ring. She seemed to like it.”

Now that memory he would treasure as long as he lived.

An inventory of his pockets had revealed a hodgepodge of small trinkets which he was still trying to trace. The little medallion with the amethyst cameo must be early Regency, stolen by the pygmy mummies from some unfortunate Napoleon soldier’s corpse; the lapis earring was probably from the Ramesside period (a few Rameses had sent their armies to find or reclaim Ahm Shere, Jonathan had found); the couple of gold and silver rings bearing the Roman SPQR were a little incongruous but easy to chalk up to Julius Caesar’s expedition. There were also some 4th Century Persian coins, proving Alexander the Great’s men had also reached Ahm Shere – the Oasis, anyway – and a number of little amulets from various Egyptian expeditions, mostly heart scarabs made of red and green jasper, copper, quartz, bronze, or gold. He hadn’t determined the nature of the green gemstone yet, saving it for last.

Jonathan had been so excited by his find that he hadn’t gambled a single object. Tracing their origins took time, but he had not even told Evy about it yet. Instead he had not only called on every scrap of expertise he had concerning treasure, but also on every book he could lay his hands on. Evy would have been very surprised – not to mention highly suspicious – if she learned how much time he had been spending at the British Library lately.

He had always enjoyed a good riddle. For some reason this one looked promising enough to justify doing some actual work for. Besides, having the artefacts authenticated meant he would be able to get a much better price selling them.

The only thing he had parted with was the (probable) Napoleon coin, the soft gold nibbled almost beyond recognition by the pygmy mummies’ teeth. Another look at it the morning after his resurrection had given him an idea.

Before they left the Medjai camp, Jonathan had obtained from Ardeth a sketch of Nefertiri’s personal cartouche and the address of a talented goldsmith in Cairo; once back in the city, he had wandered down to Kerdasa, the coin and the folded paper safe in the inside pocket of his (whole and clean) jacket.

Just before he reached the little shop, however, he heard a yelp and a startled cry, and was knocked off his feet by something large and hairy. His vision was filled by long camel’s lashes and lips drawn back on long yellow teeth in what Jonathan might have taken as a smile if he hadn’t known better.

Why did every single camel have to have such foul breath, he wondered.

“ʾAhlan1, Djem,” muttered Jonathan with a sigh that was half annoyance, and half amused resignation.

And was astonished when the camel immediately disappeared from view, replaced with a familiar face. Satiah’s big brown eyes went wide when she saw him.

“Oh, it’s you, bāša2. Hello,” she said with a smile.

Jonathan got up and dusted himself off, irritation quickly fading away. The jacket could survive a little dirt; besides, Satiah’s smile as she hung on to Djem’s bit had lost some of its previous shyness. Considering how fearful she had been the last time – and who could fault her for that, really – it almost made getting knocked over by a foul-smelling bag of hair and wind worth it.

“Good morning, Miss Satiah,” he said in Arabic, picking up his hat from the ground so he could salute her with a flourish. Her hand flew to her mouth to hide a giggle. “It’s a stroke of luck finding you, really. I wanted to thank you for your help the other day, and for, er…”

He reached his limits of the language, and finished in English, “I mean, thank you for returning my wallet to my sister. That was very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Satiah said in Arabic, her cheekbones a little pink. “I’m glad you and your friends got away from those men.”

Jonathan’s smile slipped a notch or two, but he rallied quickly enough.

“Yes,” he said just a little wryly, “we did, at that. In the end.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve just reached my destination,” he added, pointing to a door above which hung a sign saying something about gold in painted Arabic script, “so I’m going to wish you a—”

“You’re going to see Cousin Ashar?” Satiah interrupted, her eyes shining. Immediately afterwards she clamped both hands on her mouth and cringed. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. Small world, eh?”

She gave a small smile and led the way into the shop, stopping only to tie Djem to a post.

Ashar – the goldsmith Ardeth had recommended – was a tall, wiry man with a long face, his hair going grey at the temples. He welcomed Satiah warmly and sent her to the backroom to get what she came for. Before she closed the door, she gave Jonathan a little friendly wave, which he returned with a smile. Ashar gave him an odd but not hostile look, eyebrows raised.

Jonathan placed his order, left the coin, and was about to leave, when Ashar called him back, frowning slightly.

“You’re one of the O’Connells, aren’t you.”

Jonathan’s mouth opened and closed as though of its own accord.

“You could say that, yes,” he said finally. “Why?”

“Because word of the second raising of Anubis’ Army made it to Cairo recently.”

This time Jonathan’s mouth dropped open and remained like that for a handful of seconds. Ashar gave something that was almost a smile.

“Not all of us wear the ritual tattoos, you know.”

“I do know,” Jonathan articulated with only the slightest difficulty. Dr Hakim was a Medjai, and his face was devoid of any tattoo as well. Dr Bey had been the same, now that he thought of it. His gaze went to the door that led to the backroom. “Satiah, too…?”

“Yes. But her mother’s family has lived in Cairo for fifty years. The girl has never seen the desert. She will get good schooling and find a trade, inshallah3. The time for living legends is coming to an end.” Ashar looked at the cartouche Ardeth had drawn for reference. “I know what this says. Who the name belonged to. Your commission is either a hollow trinket or a great gift.”

Jonathan drew himself up and said, as dignified as he could, “I’m rather hoping for the latter.”

His own signet ring had been gambled and lost in some card game or another, years ago. His parents would have been so disappointed had they still been alive. The least he could do was make sure his sister had a ring of her own, one that paid tribute to the woman she was and the woman she had been, three millennia ago.

Evy’s reaction when she opened his present proved him right, and even surprised him.

She stared into the box long enough for Jonathan’s brain to go into overdrive. Her silence made him panic ever so slightly. Then she looked up at him, her eyes very bright, lower lip trembling.

Jonathan barely suppressed the need to shuffle like a schoolboy and buried his hands into his pockets, hoping his face didn’t give too much away.

“I know I wasn’t… there – or, you know – then,” he said, almost sheepishly. “But I thought… Well. I hoped you’d like it. The cartouche must be right, I got it from Ardeth, and the goldsmith was a bloody good artist, as it turned out, but—”

Evy cut him off by launching herself at him and flinging her arms around his neck, throwing him off balance. As usual, Jonathan stumbled, but managed to catch her in the end.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered into his neck. “Thank you, Jon.”

If his smile was a little wobbly, his eyes a little moist, nobody seemed to notice. Rick and Alex had picked up the little box; Rick’s face lit up in strange recognition, while Alex deciphered the cartouche slowly and grinned.

“Nice one, Uncle Jon. That’s a pretty good present.”

“Yes, about that,” said Jonathan irrepressibly while Evy broke away and wiped her eyes, “I hope you realise that this is the last birthday present you’ll ever get from me, old mum. Since – judging by your reaction – nothing I could give to you could ever top this, I have decided to simply refrain from trying.”

Evy had slapped his arm and called him an idiot with a big smile, then hugged him again. And he had hugged her back, just because he was alive and able to.

The ring hadn’t left her finger since.

“Jon?”

Jonathan was abruptly pulled back to the present, the Stars and Crown, and Tom’s curious smile across the table.

“Hm?”

“You were a thousand miles away.”

“Sorry about that. What about you and Lizzie? Dorset been treating you well, I hope?”

Tom shook his head with a smile.

“It has, sort of, but we’re moving to Oxford. Did Liz tell you she’d been replaced while she was gone?”

Jonathan nodded. Lizzie disappearing for two weeks had not gone unnoticed in her little town, but since the police didn’t have the beginning of a clue and nobody was able to reach Tom, they had moved on to other things and her boss at the telephone exchange had hired someone else. There had been a subtle but definite irony in Lizzie’s letter as she described her and Tom’s return and the scrutiny they’d had to stand up to in order to prove her husband hadn’t killed her and stashed her body away – or vice versa – before his former Chamber of Horus hierarchy stepped in to explain things.

“Well, they needed an operator at the exchange on Pembroke Street. And you know the interview I had this morning at Whitehall? I won’t be too far, as it turns out.” Tom took a deep breath, then said with one of the goofiest smiles Jonathan had ever seen on his face, “I’ll be workin’ from the Bodleian.”

This could only mean one thing. Jonathan grinned.

“The British Antique Research Department accepted your application, didn’t they? Congratulations, old chap. That’s fantastic.”

He downed a mouthful of his G&T and laid an elbow on the table, his chin in his hand.

“Haven’t been to Oxford in almost fifteen years,” he said thoughtfully. “Not since Evy finished her degree. I wonder if the city’s changed.”

“It’s Oxford,” said Tom quietly, looking like his mind was straying down the same path Jonathan’s thoughts were. “I can’t imagine it’ll ever change that much.”

Jonathan smiled quickly into his palm. Then he raised his glass.

“To the two of you, then. And to publicans hopefully not holding grudges, otherwise we’re still banned from half the pubs in Oxfordshire.”

Tom snorted and raised his own glass, now almost empty. “To the three of us, and testing that theory sometime. And let’s not wait two decades this time,” he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

The two glasses clinked.

For just a second, the decades fell away, and Jonathan was twenty years younger.

Lizzie was already waiting for them on the platform by the time they finished their drinks and walked back to Paddington. She carried a shopping bag that looked entirely too small compared to what should be expected of a woman who’d just spent a few hours in the old metropolis. Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t you say you planned to go to Harrods while we were in London?”

“I also said I only needed a new suit and the latest Agatha Christie novel,” she said, light teasing in her tone. “The next one will be out sometime in November, I think. Have you heard what the title will be? Death on the Nile, of all things.”

Jonathan gave a mock shudder. “I might just give this one a miss, then.”

The train’s whistle pierced the air, cutting the rest of the conversation short. Tom picked up his wife’s bag and Lizzie turned to Jonathan with a smile.

“Goodbye, Jonathan,” she said softly.

The use of his first name had always been a signal that the game was paused and the masks were off, as clear as a referee blowing halftime. Jonathan answered in kind, his throat just a little tight.

“Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

They hadn’t even actually said ‘goodbye’ last time. They had just stood there, she leaning out the train window in her brand-new nurse’s uniform, he and Tommy on the platform amidst the soot, the steam, and the throng of people, until the train departed. The memory was an old hurt that still twinged sometimes, like his left shoulder when the weather was bad.

He cleared his throat and smiled.

“See you on the next Christie novel, then?”

What Lizzie did next might have shocked twenty year old Jonathan, who thought he knew her well, and as such very much surprised his current self, who had a little too much experience of the world to truly get shocked anymore. She took his hands in hers, flying in the face of propriety and what had been her rules of conduct in public, and kissed him on the cheek near the corner of his mouth with an aching sweetness. The old Lizzie, so shy and unsure of her self-worth that she was terrified of what people may think, would have been appalled.

It had taken a while for Jonathan to truly grasp how much the years had changed Tommy and start thinking of him as ‘Tom’ to account for that change. Through this apparently simple gesture – simple only to someone who didn’t know Elizabeth Ferguson, née McAllister – Lizzie became ‘Liz’ in an instant.

“I can’t bear to think you died,” she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. “When I think… Without that – that book…”

She took a deep breath. Tom caught Jonathan’s eye and gave a small nod. Of course he had told her. Knowing Liz, she’d take the secret to her grave anyway.

“Take care of yourself, Jonathan, please. The world would be so dreadfully dull without you in it,” she added with a tentative smile, to which he replied with a smile of his own, one that hopefully looked steadier.

“Likewise.”

Her hands tightened around his. Just for a second or two, he softly ran his thumb on the back of her hand, an echo of the old intimacy that used to bind them; then their gazes fell away, their hands separated, and the moment was over.

Tom held out his hand with a smile, and Jonathan’s mind was whisked back to that sunny afternoon in Cairo, almost two months ago, and a chance encounter that had reshuffled the cards in a major way. Tom’s handshake was slower this time, steadier, warmer.

“Bye, Jon.”

“Cheers, Tom,” said Jonathan, determined but failing to swallow the lump in his throat. “Have a pint at the Oxford Arms for me.”

Tom nodded, and added his left hand to the handshake, not saying anything. He didn’t need to. As usual – almost – everything he meant to say was on his face and in his eyes for the world to see.

The train let out a burst of steam. Tom hastily let go and made for the train door, stopping only to help Liz aboard. Jonathan looked wistfully at the train for a minute and was about to turn around and go home when he heard his name being called over the din of the locomotive and the running gears chugging into motion.

Tom and Liz were leaning out of a window, wearing identical wide smiles. Liz was waving, her other arm wrapped tightly around her husband. The light in her eyes and her curly hair whipping around her face made her look like the girl from Jonathan’s memories.

“Send my love to Evelyn!” she called. “And say hello to your brother-in-law for me! You’re all welcome anytime for tea!”

“I’ll make sure they know!” shouted Jonathan as the train gathered speed.

The blatant disregard of platform etiquette made several passers-by turn and stare at him with a touch of glower. Jonathan ignored them and kept his eyes on the departing train. Tom’s and Liz’s beaming smiles remained in his head a long time after they had gone back inside the carriage.

He would see them again. This time he was determined not to leave the possibility of a reunion to chance and the vagaries of life. They had been through too much – both twenty years and two months ago – to just go their separate ways.

Besides, Jonathan mused as he left Paddington behind to wade through the bustling streets, he still had some research to do before he set out to sell the objects he had found at Ahm Shere. The Bodleian Library was as good as the British Library; at least he didn’t risk meeting Evy there and being subjected to her prodding curiosity, which he wasn’t ready to face yet. At least not before he unravelled the mystery of the little gemstone. It looked like an emerald and felt vaguely familiar, as though he had seen it somewhere or heard a story about it.

This required some investigation, if only to be prudent.

After all, he was particularly well placed to know that you can only go so far on fairy tales and hokum alone.

THE END

.⅋.

1(أَهْلًا): informal “hello”, “hi”.

2باشا (bāša): “sir”, “mister” in Egyptian Arabic.

3ʾin šāʾa llāhu, (إِنْ شَاءَ ٱللَّٰهُ‎) – literally “if God has willed it”, “God willing”

Don’t look for the Stars and Crown in Paddington, or the Oxford Arms in Oxford. Unlike the Turf Tavern they’re entirely fictional.

Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile was indeed published on 1st November 1937. I couldn’t resist, I mean, come on ;o)

The Bodleian Library is the main research library in Oxford and one of the oldest in Europe.

If you’re wondering, yes, that little gemstone might be the basis for a sequel of sorts, but I haven’t really started to plot it. Considering my track record for these things you might see that story sometime in the next decade and a half :P

Writing and publishing Fairy Tales and Hokum has been such an adventure. I was 21 when I started writing it; now I’ll be 38 in four days. Much as I miss the old crowd of 2003-2006, reposting and updating the story here on AO3 allowed me to know some awesome people. I’m so glad these characters somehow – FINALLY – sneaked back into my head and my heart again with their quirks, their (updated) backstories, and their voices and allowed me to finish this story the way I wanted to. Like I’ve said before, whenever you started reading this, I hope you had a good time now that you’ve reached the end. If you’ve read and left a signed comment – if you’ve read and left an anonymous comment – if you’ve read and left no comment at all – know that I wrote this for you and I hope some of it made you smile.

Take care of yourselves, love you all, and see you on the next fic? :o)

#Fairy Tales and Hokum #fanfiction #my stuff #the mummy films

[lindoig7]

Tuesday-Friday, 25-28 August

Tuesday

We awoke carrying a few aches and pains from yesterday’s exertions, so we relaxed over some very simple killer Sudokus – we finished our previous book yesterday so started a new one today and the first few are VERY simple.

It was still raining on and off – more off than on – so we stayed in the van virtually all day.  We sorted and edited photos and wrote for our blogs all morning and watched a movie in the afternoon – Legends of the Fall.  It was quite good, if a little depressing.

After I cooked a more than acceptable steak and added it to Heather’s veges brilliantly cooked inside, we ate dinner and then played dominos while waiting for the HWS to heat enough water to do the dishes.  We usually turn the HWS off during the day to save gas (and the noise the heater makes) and had forgotten to turn it back on in the late afternoon.

We then started a new series of DVDs – just the first episode of True Detective. It is too early to tell if we will like it, but it is set in the US.  For some reason, I thought it was set in the UK when we bought the series a couple of weeks ago.

Wednesday

We were still a bit fragile this morning so had another easy morning in the van. We had intended doing the laundry, but opted instead for a quiet morning catching up on a few items of business, looking at photos and relaxing.  It was mostly sunny but still felt cold so we ran our heater almost all day again.

During the afternoon, we went for a pleasant drive before hitting the supermarket and booze shop again.  We mostly shop at Woolies, but I needed beer and have become quite partial to a cheapie made specifically for Liquorland.  It is called Steamrail Pale Ale and given my penchant for the romance, noise and smells of steam trains (and the fact that I drove one about 30 km as an 11- or 12-year-old kid), it seems appropriate to add the taste of Steam(rail) to my list of pleasures. We shopped at Coles, but they didn’t have everything we wanted and Liquorland didn’t have Heather’s favourite cider, so we finished the groceries at Woolies and the booze at BWS after all.

Our drive was originally planned for Noojee, but we saw a turnoff to the Tarago Reservoir and detoured to that.  It was a delightful drive, especially the last couple of clicks to the reservoir itself – big trees, winding track through pastures, quaint farms and outbuildings – very cute.  We had a short walk around the sprawling picnic area (where all forms of picnics or social gatherings are absolutely forbidden) but access to the dam and its water is securely fenced off. Instead of returning to the main road and Noojee, we continued on the Tarago road through picturesque Jindivik and meandered via lesser roads back to Warragul.

Thursday

It looks like being fine most of today, but with a wickedly wild, wild wind.  It is howling around, rattling the whole caravan and battering the awning even though it is in the lee of the van.  A great day to get the washing dry and it was definitely laundry day for us – but Heather used the dryer in the laundry and everything was dry in the time it would have taken to peg things on the line (and retrieve the things that would inevitably have blown away!).

I had a few little maintenance things to do, including trying to secure the awning a little more rigidly. As I said, the wind has been quite ferocious here today, particularly in the afternoon, and the whole caravan is constantly buffeted and bombarded with the shriek of the wind and the crashing of the awning.

We went out for a walk in the afternoon, just a kilometre or two around the circuit behind the van, but it was quite hard work heading into the teeth of the gale.  It is a few days since we did the loop out there and it is amazing how much difference such a short time makes.  There are many more flowers out (mainly our beloved Flinder-bells, aka onion weed) but so many trees and shrubs are now in bud, the willows are covered with long trailing green ribbons, all looking very lacy and delicate, and even the scrawny little stick just outside the van is developing its mantle of beautiful white blossom.  We hadn’t noticed any of this before, but it seemed quite obvious today that the season is definitely changing – even if the weather still shows little hint if spring (other than its traditional winds).

It is getting very hard to post anything to my blog at present.  The Wi-Fi in the park is very weak and frustrating.  I can get very slow access most days until about lunchtime, but still with lots of delays and drop-outs.  After lunch, I can never access it at all.  I managed to post a few things today by transferring some text and photos from my PC to a Sandisk USB stick, then using Bluetooth to drop that into my iPad Camera Roll, and composing and posting that to my blog using my tethered iPhone as a hotspot.  It’s a slow and laborious process with too many steps and stages where I can get things wrong.  The Tumblr app is by no means intuitive – and is a bit different on either my iPhone or iPad – so the whole process is fraught!  I will just have to keep persevering – or get up early enough to post things from my PC in the morning.

We went down to the ablution block for our showers just before 5 pm with some mountainous livid clouds threatening – and it is a good job we never left it any later.  Heather got back in time, but I had gone down a few minutes after her and had to jog back to the van in the first of some sprinkles foreboding a very heavy downpour that hit just as I reached the awning.  Another 30 seconds and I would have had two showers for the day.

Within an hour, all Hell broke loose.  The wind went absolutely wild.  It shrieked through the adjacent trees and the awning on the van next to us was reduced to a twisted pile of scrap within minutes.  Ours disconnected from its struts a couple of times but we went out quickly and rescued it before any damage occurred.  We could hardly hear each other for the noise, and the poor screeching Corellas and Galahs in the trees were being blown off their perches. The rain bucketed down and the lights flickered on and off for several minutes. If any of the trees behind the van had fallen our way, the van would have been completely crushed.  Fortunately, the prevailing winds all pass our van on their way to the trees.  It was all very exciting, if more than a little disconcerting.  It rained/poured on and off until about midnight or a bit after, but the wind kept lashing the van until about 5 am.  Next morning there were numerous branches down around the park, but the extent of the damage elsewhere became obvious during our excursion later in the day.

I have experienced some amazing winds in caravans.  I recall many (many) years ago, I was in an onsite van in Busselton (Western Australia) which is not so far from the Cape Leeuwin weather station and we heard that the anemometer wound off its stanchion at about 190 kph.  We awoke to 20 cm of water throughout the park, but being so sandy, it was all gone within a couple of hours.  Much more recently, we were at Camperdown in our previous little van and it was so wild that I had to park the car across the van to shield it from the worst of it as well as chocking the wheels and tying it down.  And at Tibooburra a few years ago, we were the only van in the park and drove out to Cameron Corner for the day without any inkling of an impending storm – but came back in the afternoon to find all the components of the awning distributed around the park.  Fortunately, nothing was broken and we were able to reconstruct it well enough to continue on our way.  We sat out a wild cyclone in the Kuril Islands a few years ago and Heather drew attention to another exciting storm event the first time we approached Inexpressible Island in Antarctica (NEITHER of these were in our caravan) but I still think Thursday’s little puff was about as violent as I can remember – perhaps because we were so close to the trees and the cacophony they generated.

Despite the drama of the storm, Heather made the most wonderful meal using our new double-sided frying pan/mini-oven.  We had bought a boned leg of lamb and she marinated it for almost a day with a great concoction of herbs and spices (in lots of yoghurt).  Cooking it in the pan with lots of chopped onion resulted in the most amazing rich, caramellised, delicious feast you could imagine.  It really was fantastic and we have enjoyed the leftovers in 3 meals since.  Superb!!!

Friday

A really great day today.  We headed south to the coast, but you should have seen the trees on the way that had been brought down overnight.  We saw maybe 20 or so giants and hundreds of smaller trees as well as thousands of branches, twigs and metres of bark stripped from the vegetation. We had to drive around dozens of branches and small trees on the road, but the really big ones blocking the whole road were already being removed.  Council and SES crews were hard at work, along with local farmers who were cutting up the logs and repairing broken fences and other damage.  I don’t suppose this was hugely unusual for them, but for (sort of) city slickers to see so many mammoth trees that had been guarding the road for centuries laying on the ground with their roots splayed to the heavens was pretty amazing.  It reminded us how lucky we were not to have been in the way of the giants that could have demolished our caravan had we been in the path of one.

We went down through Korumburra and Leongatha to Tarwin South and hence to Tarwin Meadows – only to find that it was private property and we almost ended up in their front yard.  We back-tracked and followed a lovely quiet road to the Cape Liptrap Lighthouse.  It was a wonderful short walk to the light-tower itself and we enjoyed some magnificent views and saw some lovely little birds (and some quite a bit bigger). The coast was still pretty wild after the storm but we kept ourselves safe, well away from the fury, at the top of the cliffs.  We had a bit of fun playing the calls of the Brown Thornbills on our birding app.  There were quite a few around and several came out to say good mornig to us as well.  Don’t usually do this, but we were trying to confirm their identity using the app and next moment they were reacting with us.

We followed the coast as close as we could and ate our lunch at Walkerville North whilst watching the sea-birds (and a dog harassing them) before going on to Waratah Bay.  We walked along the beach and saw millions of tiny sand-balls created by the little crabs that had burrowed down while the tide was out.  There were quite a few pretty shells, all broken, and hundreds of small smooth stones of almost every colour and pattern.  The beach was very flat and very wide, at least 150 metres wide I reckon, but the tide was coming in and although we watched it for a while, I guess the entire beach would have been reclaimed by King Neptune within half an hour or so.

We tried to get to Shallow Inlet but were again thwarted by the National Park closure.  We had tried to get in from the east a week or so ago without success and coming from the west didn’t make it any more doable.  It simply doesn’t make sense to close so many parks and reserves because of Covid.  Every National and State park is locked up for no conceivable reason.  They would be the safest places around!  Sure, Melbourne people aren’t allowed to travel, but there is much more freedom throughout the rest of the State but government/s have chosen to punish the rest of the country despite there being absolutely zero risk.  Many of the rules are simply moronic.  There is no possible policy reason for them and the only other interpretation I can put on this stupidity is that the rules are set with only vindictiveness in mind.

We were able to go to nearby Sandy Point - and when we reached the end of the road, we simply drove straight onto the beach. We weren’t the only car on the beach and it was obvious from the many tyre tracks that driving on the beach was normal.  We drove half a kilometre or so along to where there was a sign indicating that driving beyond that point was not allowed, but it was a bit of fun and enabled up to get some good views of the shore-birds.  We saw about 15 Eastern Curlews – not that common in our experience – and a couple of hundred Red-capped Plovers – a lot more than all I have seen in my lifetime.  It was a great opportunity for a few photos and a bit of a novelty to drive on the hard-packed sand.  The whole area was wonderfully quiet and peaceful and quite beautiful!

We dilly-dallied there for a while and then drove home via Meeniyan, Mirboo North and Trafalgar with the last leg in particular being through really beautiful country.

[jamlally]

A Lucky Man

The club is trying to get out of the deal with the Cartel, Tig Trager and his Old Lady are content, but Tig worries about what might happen if something happens to him, then he comes up with a plan

This was supposed to be a short one shot that was inspired by some Tig Trager images I had seen. It turns out I ramble

Tig sat with his old lady in his lap, whisky in hand while he contemplated just how well things seemed to have worked out. The club had managed to get out of a lot of the shit that they had been dealing with, The drugs were mostly handed over to the Mayan’s, the gun trade from the Irish was flowing smoothly and he had, least ways in his opinion, one of the hottest old ladies going

Janna was a petite dark haired quiet young thing that had ended up calling for a tow when her broken down SUV had final decided enough was enough and had packed up when she needed to go home with her groceries.   Tig hadn’t been on tow duty that day but he had been there when they unloaded the hunk of junk that she called a car and he had seem the petite woman with frankly awesome curves that had stumbled out of the cab. He had picked up the paperwork and headed over there to see what he could learn about the pretty young car owner. They had struck up a fun conversation, she was new to the area and would be opening a massage parlour. Not that kind of massage parlour she had informed him when he wiggled his eyebrows in response, It took him some convincing, a few coffees and a bouquet of flowers before she agreed to date him. She had been warned about the Son’s and had not been keen to get involved with them. When anyone asked her how on earth she ended up with the SAA of a motorcycle club she would just smile and say they were motorcycle enthusiasts and that Tig had beautiful eyes,

She had made him work for every step on their journey, After their first date it took another 4 before he managed to charm her pants off and his way into her bed, The sex had been phenomenal. She had been open to trying almost everything he wanted. She had admitted that while she wasn’t some simmering virgin, she didn’t have that much experience and what experience she did have wasn’t something she was keen to repeat. Tig had taken great delights in adding to her sexual education trying new positions, toys and even roll play. For the first time in a long time he was content. He didn’t want crow eaters, he looked forward to coming home just so he could be with his Old Lady.

It took him 2 years of serious dating and moving in with Janna before he officially asked her to take his crow. Neither had been in a rush to get married but the crow solidified her place in the club. It let everyone know she was his and that they needed to keep their hands off of her.

Janna seemed to enjoy the club, She got on as well as anyone could with Gemma and took the teasing from the guys with good nature. She understood the risks and dangers that came with the club and trusted Tig to try and make smart choices.

Of course getting out of the drug business had bought its share of issues and dangers, He had come home bloody and bruised on more than one occasion, but when she saw that look in his eyes she knew not to push and she would help him clean up with soft hands, and give him the spaces that he needed.

One night they had been lying in bed talking, him stroking her hair, her running her fingers over his chest, occasionally twirling her fingers in the hair she found there, when he had asked “How did an Old Fella like me charm a pretty little thing into my life huh? She had hummed and then given him a look from through her eye lashes “ Well I guess your just lucky that it was you that came over that day, there were other of your brothers there who could have beaten you to the punch Alex”

That had caught his attention, there had been another brother that she had considered rather than him. He scowled a little feeling the first stirrings of jealousy. “Really?” “Easy there Tigger. It’s only you that i want in my life and my bed, But sure, that day someone else kind of caught me eye”

He had felt soothed by her reassurance and relaxed back down “Hmmm let me think” his brain ran through what he could remember about the day, and to be fair most of hsi memories of that say centred on the naked woman who was in his bed right now “I really don’t get why all you ladies throw yourselves at Jax and Juice I mean, sure they’re pretty but experience counts baby “

Janna had laughed at his suggestion “Oh god Tig. Juice and Jax, really! I’d spend my days fighting over bathroom and time and dealing with either Mommy issues or well what ever issues it is Juice has at any given moment Thanks but no thanks ”

“What you gonna tell me that you suddenly got a think for Tubby hairy blokes. I’m supposed to believe that you had your eye on Bobby?”

“No! Jesus Tig” “Well then who? Come on tell me !” He had tickled and poked at her but still she wouldn’t fess up. Eventually while they stood together in the kitchen he had tried again making guesses while drinking beer “So not Bobby, Jax or Juice, so that leaves, Opie, Clay, Happy and Chibs. I think the rest of the Club was out that day” She had blushed when he listed the names and he took a moment to work out

“So it wouldn’t be Clay. You would have never dared face the wrath of Gemma and Opie totally isn’t your kind, Honestly doll I guess it could be either of the other two Come on give me a clue, You know its gonna bug me forever”

She had smiled at him then “Alex you know that you are who I want to be with right? That’s why I have your Crow, it’s why I’m your Old Lady,”

“I know Doll but I just gotta know” “If I tell you I don’t want you making a big thing about this. I’m serious Alex. I don’t want to feel uncomfortable and I don’t want them feeling that way either” Her eyes had been serious as she looked at him gauging whether or not this was a good idea Tig had just nodded “Scouts honour babe” “Alex I seriously doubt you were in the scouts, and even if you were they would have kicked you out within the first month” “Look I promise ok!” She had sighed and put the knife down that she had been using before turning to rest her hip on the work surface “It was Chibs OK When we first pulled in and i got out of the truck it was Chibs that caught my eye. He was explaining something to one of the other mechanics, showing them what to do. He’s an attractive man and then I heard him talking and he was firm and direct but not unkind” “The Scots man, huh, Well I guess I’m lucky he was busy or it could be another crow you had on you” “Tig….” “Its all good doll, You want another beer?”

Nothing more had been said of it, though that night he knew that he had been more dominant and forceful i bed. Janna was naturally more submissive and it turned him the hell on, and, as much as he hadn’t wanted to admit it, he was a little jealous of the fact that he hadn’t been the one to catch her eye first.

They had not talked about it again and mostly Tig had put it out of his mind. Janna was his and they were perfectly happy with each other. He had watched on a couple of occasions when Janna and Chibs were together, There was never anything suspicious in what they did, they were friendly and no more, but he did notice that sometime his Scottish brothers eyes would linger a little longer on her cleavage, or ass, and that he seemed a little more gentle when she was around.

They had been working on getting out of the Cartel. Clay was long gone, Gemma was with Nero and Jax was president now, Tig didn’t wear the SAA patch but he was content with his role in the club. They had been on a run and he had spoken with Janna and was now set on getting drunk before he crashed out for the night. He had settled next to Chibs and they were working their way through a bottle of Whisky talking about upgrades they might want to make to their bikes. They were about half way through the bottle when Tig suddenly stopped talking glanced at Chibs and it just slipped out “Yah know she had her eye on you brother” “What the hell you talking about Tiggy?” Chibs was clearly lost by the sudden turn in conversation “Janna, we talked about it, like moths ago, when she got out the truck, she saw you and thought you were hot man” Chibs looked a little uncomfortable for a moment before he smoothed a hand over his goatee and gave a small smile “Well brotha you know y magnetism knows no bounds. You’re just lucky that one of the guys screwed up his repair and I was busy” Tig swallowed down his shot and turned so he was facing Chibs more directly. He looked down at the table and folded his hands together. Chibs looked concerned when he didn’t laugh “Tig you know that I’d not go there brotha, she’s your old lady”

Tig didn’t look up, he sucked his lip for a second before he continued “If anything were ever to happy to me, you know that I’d want you to look out for her right. If there was ever a reason that I couldn’t be there, you’re the only brother I would trust with her” He looked up then his cold blue eyes meeting Chib’s brown ones “Of course brotha , what ever you need. But Tiggy, nothings gonna happen, right?” Tig had taken a drink and smiled “Sure”

He had of course told her, she had of course been mad and the sex they had a couple of days later had been epic. They had been lying in bed when he had brought it up something that had been going on in his head for a while “ So the Chib’s thing, there was a reason I told him, you know” Janna had sighed and rolled to look at him “Ok i’ll bite why did you tell him Alex” “He’s lonely doll. He has been for a long time and I wanted him to know that ladies still had an interest in him., Look things can go south pretty quickly. This shit with the Cartel, we’re working on getting out of it, but this isn’t going to be some clean break, Things will get messy and there is a good chance we don’t all get to come out of this whole, or without jail time, I’m going to try my best to come back to you, but if I can’t, well Doll there is not another man I would rather intrust my Old Lady too and if it became more, well then I would rather it be him than anyone else. He’ll treat you right “

“Alex!” Janna had sat up then, sheet pulled up oboe her chest and her eyes wide “You make it sound like its a done deal, It’s always been dangerous but baby I need you to not think like that . You need to be positive and come back to me, Besides how is that even fair to Chib’s? What if he has someone in his life, you cant expect him to drop that for me Hell if you’re all in jail he’s probably gonna be right there with you . Even if he’s not then your assuming a lot Alex, you know people have to be compatible for things to work out”

“Baby” Tig reached to pill her close “Chibby, he doesn’t have anyone right now, but if he did then sure I wouldn’t expect him to be more than a friend, but if I end up in jail on drug charges, well there’s a good chance I’m not coming out again. God willing it doesn’t come to that but we need to be prepared, I get what you’re saying it may take a while but if it comes to it I think you two would be good together. That’s all I’m saying “

“Alex please, look thinking we’d be good together is different than being good together. Chibs and I might not have chemistry and baby I love how we are together, The way we do things. You make me feel great Alex and you look after me and know just what I want and need, That’s what I want,”

He had kissed her and hugged her close but in his mind he planned for what he knew was likely coming.

He spoke with Chibs one night. Explained the conversations that he and Janna had been through, Chibs had listened and had protested as vehemently as Janna had. “Brotha, she’s your old lady and incarcerated or not I can’t be with her” “But would you, if I was gone, would you want to be with her” “Jeysus Tig “ “It’s a simple question man, do you find her attractive , would you have been interested if she had come to you first” “Yes! of course I would, what man wouldn’t but your missing then point” “No brother you’re the one missing the point. We know this Cartel shit wont be smooth and I need to know that she’s taken care of man, What I’m saying brother is I’m willing to share if you are” “What?” “You heard me. We’ve shared a crow eater before but I’m telling you that I’m willing to share Janna too. She’s still attracted to you. If she’s up for this I’m not talking a one of thing - I’m thinking long term. Just think about it man”. He’d left Chibs then wondering how he brought this up to Janna

It had taken a couple of weeks and a close call where Chibs had taken a bullet to the shoulder and Tig was covered in scrapes and cuts before they spoke of it again Chibs had waited until Tig went through to his dorm to clean up before he approached him

“Tigger hang on, you got a sec to talk” Chibs gestured to the dorm room “Whats up ?” “Look I’ve been thinking about what you said, How are you going to be ok with Janna being with me. Say we went ahead - i don’t want to loose you as a brother for a woman.” Tig smiled - he knew that he was on board now if he’d thought this much about it “ So to start with I figure its the 3 of us. we work it out, and I guess we talk” “And Janna she’s up for this?” “She’s not opposed to it, has she accepted it - not one hundred percent but I figure we can convince her without trying too hard” “I need to be healed, before we try anything” “Sure thing brother”

Tig knew he had to start getting Janna on board, A couple of nights after his discussion with Chibs there had beeb a club party. He made sure that he knew where Chibs was most of the night so that he and Jana could be close by. After a couple of drinks he stood behind her, arm banded tightly around her waste, mouth by her ear as he whispered “You like it when I hold you really tight, so you cant move don’t you doll” She had hummed her acceptance and pushed back into him “Your such a good girl for Daddy aren’t you. You know how to do what your told, how to ask for what you want hmm” He licked the shell of her ear and he felt her breathing pick up “Yes you are.Look over there Doll, Do you see CHibs, see how he’s making sure that Crow eater makes him feel good His hand in hr hair as she moved, How would that feel doll, me behind you holding you tight, making sure you cant move, Chibby with his hand sigh in your hair, controlling how you move, what do you think huh, my dick in your pussy, his in your mouth. You’d be a good girl for daddy and earn your reward wouldn’t you” She was panting by the end of it, her ass pushing back into him, his hard on pushing back and her breath coming out in soft pants . He had taken her back to his dorm room and fucked her hard, holding her tightly telling her how to move and what to do. She had begged him to let her come but he had held off until she nearly cried with frustration and then she had come so hard he had worried she would be done for the night. Later on when they were recovered he had taken her back out and gotten them both drinks before guiding her to sit o na couch between himself and Chibs. Chibs had leant over close to her ear and whispered to her. What ever he said her checks went pink and she had seemed flustered.

Their game as he liked to think if it had gone on for another couple of weeks, there were whispered words, ideas that he thought she might find hot, comments and looks that let her know he was having fun teasing her. He didn’t think that she had worked out that Chibs was in on the whole thing. He would position himself somewhere that he knew Tig and Janna would be able to see him. When a crow eater was spending time with him, sucking him off he would hold their head but look up and make eye contact with Janna, He played it off as if it were incidental, but Tig new different, He let the tension build, The sex he and his Old Lady had was beyond hot. She was obviously getting wore dup, and he knew, were it not for her more submissive nature then she would probably have been far more aggressive with him in dealing with her needs.

He let things build slowly and then he had approached her telling her what he wanted to happen “I love you doll, your my old lady and I want you to be happy, and I think that I know what would make you happy. Do you trust me?” “Of course I do Alex, always” “Ok Doll, get undressed, leave on your bra and panties and then close our eyes for me” He had moved around her touching, caressing, pinching, licking. He could see her becoming more excited, Her hips jerked towards him anytime he was close enough, her nipples were tight and prominent and her pulse was through the roof. It was then he had gone and opened the door, allowing Chibs to come in and then he had moved to stand behind her. He banded his arm tightly around her body below her breasts, pushing them up slightly, his other hand gripped her hip as he spoke into her ear. “Do you remember that night where we watched Chibs and we talked about you being trapped between us, your hair wrapped around his hand, his cock going in and out your mouth, Tell Daddy baby, do you remember”

He felt Janna swallow “Yes I remember” “And it got you hot” “Yes” He had looked at Chibs who had nodded and moved forward wrapping his hand tightly in her hair, pulling her head back before he ran his nose up her neck. “Hmmm is that right. Does your wee lassie want you to fuck her body while I fuck her mouth brotha” Janna’s eyes had flown open at the new voice but Tig kept control “Remember baby you trust me. You want this to end then you say red, yellow if your unsure. Tell me where you are baby” She had stumbled for a second before stuttering “Green” “Good girl” Tig smirked at Chibs from over Janna’s shoulder. “After you brother”.   He watched as Chibs ran his nose back up Janna’s neck stopping at the hollow under her ear where he licked and sucked on the skin. Tig felt her moan before he heard it. A deep vibration that came from low in her chest. He ran his hands up pulling at her bra cups until her breasts were exposed his hands moving to her nipples where he tweaked and twisted, Janna’s groans becoming moans. Chibs stepped back and looked down. He licked at his lips as he took in the sight before him. Janna’s beasts rose and fell as she panted with desire, her nipples already taught from his fingers her panties already starting to look damp. “Ah Tiggy your girl is a sight brother, look at her there so needy. She’s a sight for sure brother. Where do you want to do this?” Tig gestured to the bed “On you go little girl, to the bed, and take those panties off , on your hands and knees”

He watched as she moved as he asked. Her eyes immediately going to the floor as she moved. Stood shoulder to shoulder with Chibs “See brother she likes to be told wha to do, She’s a good girl who needs someone to look after her. Keep her safe” Chibs just grunted his agreement his hand going to his crotch to palm his already hard dick. The truth was he had always found Janna beautiful, but Tig had claimed her, made her his Old Lady and Chibs had accepted the fact that friendship would be the best he would get, If he was being really honest then there had been more than one occasion where he had gotten himself off to thoughts of her. Usually naked and begging him to fuck her, He knew that this was going to hurt, when it was over he would have had his taste of paradise and he would never be admitted again, but for now he would relish what he had, there would be time enough later for tears.

He waited for Tig to move first, to set the tone but as soon as he did Chibs moved towards the head of the bed. “See baby, I told you that Chibs would want to join us. He needs a name though hmm what do you think? You can’t have two daddies, How about a papa hmm” When she didn’t answer tig raised his hand and brought it down with a resounding slap on her right ass cheek. “Don’t forget your manners baby, I asked you a question, what do you think?” “I, i think he should pick Daddy, Just like you picked” Her words came out with a moan and she relished the sting. “Lets see how we go first, don’t you think lassie. Now open wide and show me how you can take care of me, Eyes on me wee girl” Tig watched as Janna raised her head and made eye contact. He knew her large expressive eyes would be full of desire and he could image the way her tongue would lick her lips in anticipation. He knew that she wouldn’t make a move until Chibs told her too, it was just the way she liked things to be.

He watched Chibs wrap her hair around his hand and then guide his dick to her mouth. The groan that came from his mouth as she engulfed his cock had Tig undoing his pants and moving behind her. He ran his hand down over her ass before sliding his fingers further round and into her warm depths. As his fingers sank in knuckle deep her heard her groan around Chibs. “Thats it lass, good girl”. He listened to his brothers words as he wiped his damp fingers over his cock in preparation . Learning forward he wrapped one arm in a band around her midsection “That’s a good girl” he crooned as he sank his cock into her “Yeah baby just like that” She moved between them back and forth her moans and sighs muffled by Chibs. Tig pounded into her from behind, He found the whole thing beyond hot. He had never imagined sharing his woman with another man, but here he was and he wasn’t going to deny that it got him off. He heard Chibs grunts become more forceful “Good girl just like that, thats it lass” and he knew that his brother would be finishing soon. He spend up his thrusts sitting back up into his knees and bringing his hand down again on Janna’s ass cheek “Damn good girl, you show Chibs how you know how to look after him. Make me proud baby” His words seemed to have an effect based on Chibs muttered curse of “Jeysus” and then he was lost in his own bliss.

They lay together each on one side of Janna recovering. Tig pondered the fact that this didn’t feel odd. He had no desire to touch Chibs, or do anything with just him, but the idea of sharing his Old Lady didn’t creep him out at all. Even now, after the fact he was ok with what was happening. He leant his head closer to Janna’s ear talking quietly, not quiet a whisper, making sure Chibs could hear, but sure that no one snooping outside would “Tell me did you enjoy that baby?” Janna had smiled and nodded “Very much so” “Hmm” he rubbed his goatee against her shoulder “So you would be happy to do this again, if Chibs wanted” He watched as his old lady bit on her bottom lip and thought before nodding again “Yes, if you were ok with that” . He had smiled then, a broad grin, “Sure thing Doll” He pulled himself from the warmth of the bed “ i meed to piss, then I’m going to bring back some drink You two should sort out what ever you need to”

He had taken his time out in the bar. He talked shit for a while before demanding that the prospect hand him a bottle of whiskey and then heading back towards the dorm. When a crow eater had stopped him to ask if he had seen Chibs he had snarled and told her that Chibs was busy and he wouldn’t have time for her tonight. In his dorm he had found Chibs straddling Janna, hands tied up in her hair her legs pushed ups by her ears as he slowly thrust into her. “Good girl lass, just like that. You make your Da feel so good baby. You listen so well, Tighten up now, thats a girl, use your muscles God …Yes ! just like that. CHibs had moved the hand that held up her leg to grad her jaw and force her to look at him “Eye’s on me lass. Thats it don’t you look away now. This, what we’re doing here if just for me and your Daddy, you hear me, You don’t need to be looking at the others. These eyes, your mouth, this pussy, it belongs to us, yeah!” Tig had been entranced, seeing the way that she listened and was so desperate to please Chibs, the same as she was with him. He sat in the chair at his desk, and took a pull of the drink he brought with him His eyes didn’t leave his old lady, he watched as she created higher on her wave of pleasure, getting closer and closer to coming. When he was sure she was dancing on the edge he called out “ Don’t you come little girl, not until he tells you to” He watched her fight then, to hold herself on the edge without falling over. He watched her tits bounce and her hands clenched he felt himself grow hard. Whisky in one hadn’t, dick in the other he stroked himself as he watched her ride the edge, until Chibs told her to cum, and as she did so did he.

Buy the time he was cleaned up and back out in the room, Janna was asleep in the bed ad Chibs had his pants on and was sitting having smoke and a drink. Chibs offered him the booze before having another long draw on the cigarette. “Hell Tiggy she’s something else brotha” “She is at that. Now you’ve had a taste you need to decide man, Im happy for this to be a one time thing or for it to be more. I mean there are rules and things we need to work out, but if you want this can be a regular thing, You and her, me there me not. I’ll share brother. her body our bed, our life, but if we do this thing, then it’s just between us, and if something happens to me, then you have to be there for her”

Chibs had looked at him long and hard before tipping his head, “Let’s work out the details brother and go from there”

It took a while, there was undoubtably some jealousy but they found a way to make it work. More often than not their trysts would be outside of the club. Gemma had been too caught uo in her own business to pay all that much attention to what was happening, but neither man was foolish enough to think that would last, They had agreed that there could be occasional ouching in public, but only things that could be passed of as teasing, or friendly, In private well Chibs was Da and he was Daddy and they had a damed good time. Chibs more or less lived in their house now. They had a spare room with a bathroom attached and they had given it to Chibs, Janna delighted in having two people to look after and while things seemed odd for a while Tig realised that after a few months it was normal to come in and find his Old Lady lying on the couch reading, Chibs siting at the other end watching the TV and her feet pulled into his lap as he absentmindedly rubbed them. It gave him a sense of peace to know that he had a family, odd as it may be, to come home to away from all the shit.

As things at home became more normal, things in the club became more chaotic. Both men found themselves out on runs, or out dealing wit cartel shit more and more and there were disagreements around the table as to how to deal with what was happening. Things came to a head when Tara and Gemma had been followed and shot at on their way home from a shopping trip. Tara had called Jax and the club had gone onto high alert. There was discussion of a lock down, but they decided to hold off, the Son’s had more that one enemy and overreacting could be exactly what they had hoped for.

Janna had said she understood why they had to be away and why she had to be more careful but Tig could see that she worried about them, and she never seemed truly relaxed unless they were both home. On nights where one was later than they had planned the sex would be frantic and desperate, with hands, teeth and nails coming into play more than usual. They had found that Janna needed them to be more in control inside and outside of the bedroom to help alleviate her anxiety,

Chibs had been away up north dealing with gun running issues when things suddenly got much closer to home. Tig had been away on a run. They had guns that they were running across to Nevada which would be sold to make money for the Cartel. Jax had been in negotiation to get them out of the deal that Clay had made, This run they had the truck as well as the bikes, They had fully automatic assault rifles stored in with electronics. The deal was they made this shipment and drove back the truck packed with coke and they would be out. If they were caught, wen then the Son’s would take the fall and the jail time would probably have most of them not seeing the outside world again until they were very very old men. It was high risk with a high payout. They had been most of the way to Nevada, having avoided any issues when Tig’s phone started to ring, He couldn’t take the chance of pulling over and drawing attention to their convoy, so he knew he had to wait until they reached their next gas stop and he put the call out of his mind. After gassing up the bikes and truck and grabbing some awful gas station food he remembered to check his cell. He smiled when he saw Janna’s phone number, With Chibs having been away for a couple of weeks they had enjoyed their alone time, but today, when it came time to leave she had definitely been more clingy than he was used to. She had made him promise on multiple locations to be safe. He had promised her that he would be as cautious as was possible and reminded her that Chibs would be home in the next day or so and then sent her off to work, with a slap on the ass and a wink. Janna knew that he would call her back when they pulled over for the night he figure she was calling to live him a little message, She often did when he was on a run. Usually something a little sweet and a little sexy at the same time. He wanted to listen to it but at the same time he couldn’t afford to be distracted, so sent a quick message before pocketing the phone and getting back on his bike.

The closer that they got to the drop off in Nevada the more traffic they came across. Jax signalled for them to pull into the next gas station while he called to confirm the drop of location. With directions in hand they worked out that it was another hours drive and then they could head to one of their brother charters for the night. The initial hand off went quickly and every member of the club seems more at ease when they were no longer carrying weapon that could get them a stint in lock up. A quick run over to the charter house and a piss and Tig was ready to call home . He grabbed a beer, dodged the hands of one of the eager to please girls that were on hand and headed back to his dorm, They would be sharing rooms tonight, the smaller charter house having to double up on cots in smaller rooms. He was sharing with Juice tonight and the boy was likely to be up to his eyeballs in drink for the first half of the night and Tig planned to be too drunk and too asleep to pay any attention to who he brought back to the room.

He locked the door and shrugged out of hit kutte before flopping on the bunk furthest away from thee door before pulling out his phone and calling too his voice mail. He closed his eyes as he heard a soft sigh and his voice through the receiver “Alex, hey baby, I know you wont get this until tonight but I wanted to let you know that I’ll miss you, Even when Chibs is back it not, well its not the same when you aren’t both here. Be safe daddy, I love you and I’ll miss you. When you get home i’ll be waiting on my…” he heard the sound of the door chimes as the massage parlour and Janna offering greeting before asking them if they had an appointment. He didn’t recognise the very male voice that answered but he did recognise the scream that came through the receiver followed by a smashing noise. He was frozen as he listened to smashing sounds and the sobs he knew came from his girl He was miles away and something had happened to his girl and he could do anything. He listened to the end of the message, trying to work out whether or not someone had come to help her and the message just cut off, “Fuck!” jumping to his feet he grabbed his kutte and headed to the door, he hadn’t had too much to drink and it was an eight hour drive but he could be home by morning. What if she was lying there, hurt and alone? EIgth hours was of no use. He needed to think, not just run in. Running his hand through his hair he pulled on the strands. Why had he left her alone? He could have waited until Chibs came back and then caught up with the others. Chibs! maybe he was closer. With shaking fingers he went into his contacts and made the call, pacing back and forwards. He had been just about ready to hang up and he’d odd when the familiar exasperated tone came over the line “Aye” “Chibs, how close are you to Charming?” “Tig ? I thought you were on the run” “How fucking close are you to Charming?” “I’m about 20 minutes out, I was about to get back on the road when you called. Whats up?” “It’s Janna, she left a message it sounded like someone attacked her” “Shite! Did she call you back., did you manage to get a hold of her” “Nah, I, I didn’t call her back. Fuck! I should have called her work or the hospital Fuck!” Tig could hear Chibs moving around getting ready to leave “Look you call there work, see if she’s there , then call the club house, get someone to call the hospital, I’m going to head to her work, and then I’ll call you” Chibs didn’t waste time on goodbyes he just hung up Tig dialled the massage parlour “Come on baby, pick up, pick up” all he got was the engaged tone “FUCK!”. His heart was pounding in his chest, his hands shaking as he called the clubhouse. He barked at a crow eater and then got hold of Tara who said she would check the hospital and get back to him. He paced as he waited. He couldn’t stand still, his instinct was to be on the room to head home and look after his girl, not following through on it was hell but his head knew that heading home now would cause issues for the club and wouldn’t help his girl,

If felt like lifetime before his phone rang and he scrabbled to answer it, fumbling in his urgency. “Hello” “Hey brotha” “Chibs! What’s happening! How’s Janna” “Janna’s fine. We’re back at the club house, I found her at the parlour Someone did a number on it, smashed the shit out of it,, She’s battered, bruised and scared. They knocked her out and tied her up. It’s why she couldn’t call you back, From what I could see she might have a concussion she’s got cuts and scrapes and some rope burn, but she’s whole” “Fuck! Can I talk to her man. I need to … I just need to speak to her man” “Alex” The soft broken voice came through the phone speaker and Tig was sure a bit of his heat broke “Hey baby. It’s me. how you doing” “Alex” her voice broke on a sob “I was so scared Alex, They came in and smashed up the parlour. I didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t get to the gun. They said it was a message but I don’t know what for!” He could hear Chibs talking gently in the background trying to sooth her, “Baby” his own voice was rough and he felt tears run down his own face “You listen to me, your gonna stay with Chibs ok. No matter what you guys are in the club house or if you’re out you are together. No matter what. When I get back, me and the others - we’re gonna find these ass holes and we will deal with them ok.” “Ok” “Ok baby now I love you. I need you to listen to Chibs ok. You do what ever your Da tells you and i’ll be home soon. Now can you give the phone back to Chibs baby” “I love you too Alex” She sounded better, more composed he thought as he waited for Chibs “ Brotha” “I want you to stay with her, 24/7 man I don’t want her alone, The business can stay shut. I’ll speak to the others in the morning and we’ll be home when this deal is over and done with” “Sure thing, Listen I’m gonna get Tara to check her over and then we’ll sleep here Fact is I might see if we can get all the women in on lock down. I’ll call you tomorrow” Ending the call Tig cursed and threw his now empty beer bottle at the wall feeling a little better when it shattered. The morning couldn’t come soon enough.

He had spoken with the club, they agreed on the lockdown, Jax had spoken to his mother and Tara and go things in motion. They had to wait a couple of days for the guns to be tested and they were now heading home with a truck full of drugs. They had agreed, as much as it frustrated him, that they might draw less attention travelling at night,. They stuck to minor roads, followed the speed limits and took their time, When they hit Charming city limits Jax gestured for Tig to pull up along side him. “Go on ahead brother. The rest of us can get this to the safe house. You go and see to your lady”

Tig hadn’t stopped to ask if Jax was sure, he had just nodded, gunned the engine and headed straight for the club house. As he had expected the gates to the lot were locked, it was still early and while they needed to be opened for business later in the day lockdown meant they should be closed outside of that. He couldn't see a guard so he pulled out his cell and called Chibs. “Aye” He had obviously woken the Scot up “Do you have any idea how fucking early it is Tig!’ “I’m outside, send someone to open the gates” He hung up not bothering with pleasantries. He needed to see his girl with his own eyes grab a shower and then workout who he had to kill. When the gate opened he didn’t waste any time driving straight through, a nod to the man who was currently sliding the gate shut. He was off the bike, pulling off his riding glasses and helmet as he went striding towards the clubhouse. He more or less threw the door open and headed straight towards the dorm hall, slowing slightly as he saw Chibs, rumpled and tired in a wife beater and workout pants. “Brotha, everything ok on the run?” “Yeah fine, the others are heading to the safe house” He kept moving in no mood to discuss business. Chibs stepped in front of him “Easy there, we need to talk before you head in there” Tig stared at his friend, eyes suddenly cold “Are you telling me I cant see my old lady?” Chibs huffed in annoyance “Of course I’m fucking not you dumb ass. Jesus man. Look she’s doing ok, the Doc poached her up, her concussion was minor, but she has been having trouble sleeping. She doesn’t want to be away from me, she’s followed along or stayed in the room. She’s real delicate right now brotha and asking her a heap of questions ain’t gonna help shit. Now before you go and get all shitty with me remember that we agreed that this was an equal partnership. If you want to change that, well so be it, but you don’t get to go in there and upset her even more” Tig ran his hand over his face taking a second to try and compose himself “Look man, I don’t want to change anything, but I wasn’t here, She called and I put off answering it and she needed me man!” “I know that, I do, but you going in there hell for leather it’s gonna spiral her up and create a total shit storm. L:Look we’re through in my dorm. Grab a shower and come on through. I’ll stay until your sorted then I’ll get coffee”

When Tig had come through he had found his girl, curled up asleep in Chibs' bunk. She was bundled in a blanket with her face pushed up against Chibs’ side. Chibs was dozing sat against the headboard, glasses on and the occasional snore breaking the silence. At least some of the tension that Tig felt left at the sight of his girl at peace, Knowing that her injuries were hidden he could pretend that he was just in from a run and was coming back to spend the day relaxing with Janna and probably Chibs too. He cleared his throat making enough noise to rouse Chibs, who blinked slowly as he swam back to conciseness. Chibs nodded in his direction and bent down to rouse Janna with a gentle hand stroking her hair. “Hey lass. time to wake up a bit, you have a guest” Janna had groaned and rolled over turning her back as she tried to stay asleep for a little longer. Chibs slipped out from the bed and grabbed a hoodie and his pack of smokes before heading passed Tig. “She’s all yours brotha”

Tig had flopped onto the bed jostling his sleeping old lady and then pulling her back into his body. She had grunted and he had smiled “Hey baby, is this the way you really want to greet your old man who rushed home to see you?” She had mumbled and rolled over back to the warmth he offered, before pushing herself against him. She hummed in contentment wiggling closer before her eyes started to flutter open “Tiggy?” “Hey Doll” He had been prepared for laughter, hugs, even sex, what he hadn’t been ready for was the sudden deep sob wracked her body and she clung to him as if her life depended on it. He had held her, muttered gentle soothing words, stroked her hair and rubbed her back and just let her get it all out. When she had cried herself out she was sound asleep, s he took the chance to move her head so he could look at her face and her wrists and see some kf the damaged that had been inflicted on her body. HE felt the rage burning inside him, but he would let it burn, he would let it burn until it felt like it would consume him and then he would strike and ensure that anyone who had been involved in touching her would be left six feet under the ground.   Chibs brought them all coffee and they had discussed that they would do, how best to get vengeance. They agreed to wait until after the last of drug deal was done, but then between them then would make sure that this was dealt with,

It took a couple of weeks but eventually they were free of the drugs the cartel said that the club was out and it seemed like it was business as usual Janna had healed enough that she was able to be with them both, though through mutual agreement they had been more gentle than usual, they didn’t want to trigger any bad memories.

They were scheduled to make a gun drop in O’Town to 09’ers , but there was shit kicking off with the Mayans who couldn’t seem to come up with a suitable deal with the cartel. It was making things complicated and difficult for the club, meaning more late nights and high tension. Janna had gotten better about being alone. She often waited with Gemma to allow both of her men to deal with business. To try to make things go more smoothly Jax had ranged a meet with the Mayans to happen at the same time as the gun drop was set to happen. If they could keep both groups busy perhaps things could go more smoothly.

The Old Lady’s and prospects waited at the club for news that everything had gone to plan. The men were running late. Gemma had mobilised the Crow eaters to set up for a party and set the Old ladies to cooking and pulling together a feast to celebrate things getting back on an even keel. Dinner had been ready for an hour when the first sound of engines was heard. Chibs, Bobby, Juice and Happy had ridden into the lot. Their faces had been serious and Chibs had a frustrated and worried look. He had gathered the old ladies and explained that the meeting with the Mayans had been going to plan. Chibs had been explaining different ways that they could deal with the Cartel and refusing to get the Son’s mired back into drugs when his phone had started going. He had ignored the call, then it was Bobby’s phone. then Happy’s. He had barked at one of the men to check what was happening but the muffled Shit had told him all he needed to know, things had not gone to plan with the gun drop off. Laroy had been there with his boys, they had been about to complete the trade when suddenly there were bullets flying everywhere, Of course the Son’s and 09’ers had returned fire, at first on each other, then realising that someone else was firing at them both at whom ever had opened fire. They had been making their way back to the bikes when the sounds of police sirens had broken the air. They had been cursed, detailed and now faced weapons charges and some serious time, He needed to call the club lawyers and get a defence set up. Laroy might be willing to provide some protection in Chino but as it stood they guys were going to do time.

The trail had been quick and to the point. Jax, Tig, and the other club members who had been arrested were going to do time, 3 years with the possibility of parole in 15 months if they were on good behaviour. Tig had left letters for Janna and Chibs explaining that they knew that this was risk, and that he wanted Chibs to look after her. He had explained that Chibs was to act as her Old Man in the same way as he would. He had left a letter for Gemma too., explaining their unique situation in order to smooth the way.

He was used to doing time, it wasn’t the first time but it was the first time, in a long time, that he was leaving someone special to him outside. He had taken some comfort in knowing Chibs was looking after his girl but he missed her non the less. Eventually they had been released to gen pop and cleared for visitors. He met with Chibs who had gotten him up to speed on things tithe Club, and then they had focused on Janna. She had been clingy and didn’t want to let Chibs out of her sight, but Gemma and Tara had helped. He had found that he needed to be more strict, to be in charge more in order to reduce her anxiety. She had reopened her business again and he had a prospect with her when she was out. They were living at home full time now, They rarely stopped over at the club, feeling closer to Tig when they were in their house.   When Janna had come in, dressed in a long skirt and a tight, low cut, form fitting top. She had obviously dressed dup for him and even here in lock up , he felt his heart rate pick up and his dick start to harden. “Hey little girl” “Daddy” her voice had been soft and breathy and meant for his ears only. He had kissed her gently keeping his hands where the guards could see them, before whispering in her ear “I hear you’re being a good girl for your Da” She had smiled and blushed and then they had talked about the more mundane things of day to day life. As she stood to leave he lent in for another kiss, this one deeper and with a good dose of tongue. The Guard cleaning his throat pulled then apart. He had smiled and winked “I’ve sent you a letter, I expect to hear from Chibs that you’ve done as it asks. Follow it to the letter littler girl” Her grin was like the sun after at a storm “Yes Sir” He had winked and then stood as they called an end to visiting time. Chibs had come over from where he had been speaking with Jax , his hand went to the small of her back “Come on lass, time for us to go. Be safe Tigger”

A few days later a letter had arrived and the day after that a parcel. The letter contained very specific instructions that she was to wear what was in the parcel and detailed the acts that she had to perform when wearing the items. She had followed them exactly, with no variation. She had taken pictures in what turned out to be a beautiful set of black lingerie, to send to Tig and when Chibs had gotten home they had followed through on everything Tig had written. She had written him back detailing her thoughts and feelings and sending him the pictures. She visited each and every slot they were allocated, and in-between she wrote, sometimes it was to tell Tig about her thoughts and feelings during sex with Chibs, other times it was about her day to day life. On one of the visits they had taken some time to talk about how she felt being with Chibs without him, She loved him and made sure he knew that but he could tell she was also slowly falling for Chibs. They were building a life together and it couldn’t help but rankle a bit that he was stuck in here, and not a part of what they were building. Janna had started to detail plans for them all to do things together, as well as detailing what she wanted to do with just Tig, It soothed his soul somewhat over the long nights.

Eventually they hit the 15 month mark and the men of SAMCRO were granted parole. They had a whole set of conditions, but they were to be free. The club members who hadn’t been locked up met those who had, They brought the bikes and as a single unit, Jax in the lead the men of SAMCRO had driven back to Charming. They had a club meeting, and then the celebrations started. Tig had enjoyed the first couple of drinks and shooting the shit with his brothers, but his attention had been fully diverted elsewhere when his Old Lady walked out from the dorm rooms dressed to kill. She had a short skirt, a tight top that showed a lot, bit not too much and he could just make out the outline of that first set of underwear he had sent her.

He had put down his beer, slapped Happy on the shoulder and headed her way. focused only on her. It had been too long and her letters and pictures had kept the fires burning. He had licked his lips in anticipation as he stalked forward. He made eye contact and didn’t drop it. He stood just to the side of her, letting his pinky graze her hand. “Hmm little girl look at you. I missed you. Did you miss me hmm. Your letters they seemed to suggest you did” “So much Daddy, I missed you so much. I loved the gifts you sent me, but I would rather of had you” “Really now? I did like the photos you sent me my naughty girl. but are you sure you missed me. Did your Da not look after you” “Da was wonderful Daddy, he looked after me so well, but I missed you. I missed your hand, and your mouth, al of you “ “Is that so baby doll. Well why don’t you come and show me just how much”

They hadn’t left his dorm for the rest of the night. Tig had taken her in every position he could think of. They had recreated some of the things he had written to her about and fucked like animals until they couldn’t any more.

When Tig had surfaced the next morning he had sought out Chibs “Thank you brother. For looking after her so well. for keeping her safe and loving her, and for giving me last night” Chibs had slipped his glasses off and put down the paper that he had been reading. “It’s not a thank you thing Tigger, I couldn’t have walked away, not when you weren’t here. Now you’re back and the worst if over I take it you’ll want that spare room back” Tig had looked at him puzzled “Why the hell would we want that? Chibs you know that she loves you right. What you and she have, its different that what I have with her. You not being there, it would break a bit of her heart bother, and I don’t want that for her. You and i both know that the danger will never be over. I feel better knowing that there is someone there for her, no matter what” “What are you saying Tiggy” “I’m saying I think things don’t need to change. I think that Janna is happy and she’s getting what she needs with both of us. Unless you don’t want to be further involved, I think we let her decide when and if things change” Chibs had looked relieved and smiles a little “As you say brother. So whats in store for your first day of freedom?”

The returned members had settled back into their lives adjusting slowly but surely to their freedom even with the tethers of parole. Business picked up with the gun running and a show of force was needed to help move on the Arian Brotherhood when they had tried to move into Charming. Things settled into as much of a routine as they could when your day job was an outlaw. Friday night was still club party night and Tig found himself sitting again in the club house, whisky in hand and Old Lady on his lap, her legs resting across Chibs lap. He watched as his brothers hand ran up her calf, slowly rising up to her knee, then thigh and then higher and out of sight. Swallowing down the last of his shot, he put his glass on the floor and banded his arm under her breast. His tongue flicked out around the shell of her ear and he felts ass push back into him, He hummed in contentment, his hand trailing up into her cleavage, squeezing her breast over her top. “I think someone needs some alone time with her Daddies. Look at your Da hmm what do you think baby girl?” “Yes Daddy” He waited as she slid her legs around, supporting her as she stood, catching Chibs’ eye he tilted his head in the direction of the dorms. Chibs grinned “Get a bottle of whisky and we’ll see you there brotha”

Walking into his dorm room Tig paused, whisky bottle to his lips, as he took in the sight before him. His Old lady on her hand and knees, his brother pushing into her keeping a slow and steady pace,   “We started without you brotha, but maybe you could help keep her mouth busy” Tig grinned putting the bottle down and kicking the door shut as he undid his belt buckle, All things considered he was a very lucky man.

#tig trager #tig trager/ofc #chibs telford #chibs telford/ofc #soa #sons of anarchy #smut

[chiseler]

Lost in the Blues: The Search for Dyin’ Dog

In June of this year, an unidentified seller posted a Jewel Records promo single on eBay. The asking price was $20. The simple accompanying description read:

“DJ PROMO RECORD 45 rpm  70s blues/R&B . Condition is Used. Bought this puppy at an estate sale for the late, great Stan Lewis. The artist is Dyin' Dog; I never heard of him but it's a pretty good record. I picked up two of them and thought I'd see what it's worth. It's a hand cut acetate DJ promo so I figure it must be pretty rare. Date on the label is 1975.”

This was only the second time I had seen proof of the physical existence of a Dyin’ Dog recording. I immediately contacted the seller, who informed me the single was “Bury My Bone” b/w “River Runs Dry,” but he was unable to tell me anything more.

It’s not surprising the seller, or anyone else, doesn’t remember raucous Louisiana blues singer Dyin’ Dog, as he never officially released any records, and never performed in public.

My own search for Dyin’ Dog, whose real name, I’ve since learned, may or may not have been Alvin Snow, began back in 2008, after stumbling across another Jewel promo 45 at a record fair in Jersey City, NJ. Like the seller on eBay, I had never heard of Dyin’ Dog, but the fact I hadn’t heard of him piqued my interest, along with the fact it had been a Jewel release. The seller, who was from Arkansas and specialized in rare indie label blues and R&B singles from the Sixties and Seventies, could tell me nothing about the artist, and couldn’t even remember how he’d come across the promo in the first place.

I brought the record home and put it on the turntable. As rough and minimalist as the production was, I could tell immediately this was unlike any other standard blues being produced in the mid-Seventies, or any other time. In spite of the modern instrumentation, it was raw and primitive, the song structure more akin to the American proto blues coming out of the rural South  of the Twenties than the more urbane sounds coming out of the New Orleans or Chicago scenes in later decades.

Overpowering the band was Dyin’ Dog himself, a voice that shrieked and roared a howl of the most abject anguish from the lower depths of some personal hell we hope we never know. The Howlin’ Wolf influence was clear, but Dying Dog, whoever he was, had taken what Howlin’ Wolf wrought and dragged it with heavy iron chains into much darker, much more horrifying territory, some barren landscape where redemption is not possible.

After all my years of researching the mostly forgotten corners of blues history, how was it I never heard of him? I went to the bookshelf and pilled down all the standard reference works—Kunstler, of course,The Cambridge Guide to Blues and Gospel, Nothing But the Blues, several years worth of the journal American Music and a few others—but search as I might there was absolutely no mention anywhere of any performer who went under the name “Dyin’ Dog.” I did an Internet search, and not only were there no recordings posted anywhere, there was no mention of this character. Had I heard a ghost on that record? Maybe more likely a demon.

The next obvious step was to contact Stan Lewis.

In 1948, Lewis opened Stan’s Record Store in Shreveport, Louisiana. Within a few years the store had expanded into a minor regional chain, and by the end of the Fifties Stan’s Record Store, with it’s huge selection of titles across every popular genre you can imagine, had become the largest mail-order music shop in the American South.

Deciding to expand the operation, in 1964 Lewis founded Jewel Records (joined soon thereafter by the subsidiary labels Ronn and Paula). Lewis signed hundreds of acts—country, R&B, jazz, blues, gospel, rock’nroll, whatever sold—and his stable of artists included, among others, The Blind Boys of Alabama, Memphis slim and John Lee Hooker.

After a successful twenty-year run, Lewis was forced to declare bankruptcy in 1983. In the late Nineties all of Jewel’s master tapes were obtained by the online company eMusic, and at present the rights to the entire Jewel catalog are held by a New York-based holding company, Fuel 2000. Lewis himself passed away in July of 2018 at age 91, which explains the above-mentioned estate sale.

I had the opportunity to speak with Lewis two or three times in the Nineties while researching other Jewel acts. He’d always been friendly and willing to offer as much as he could, so I reached out again in 2009 to see what he could tell me about Dyin’ Dog.

When I’d spoken with him earlier, Lewis could not only share entertaining anecdotes about any act I was curious about, he could cite contract details and sales numbers from memory. But when I mentioned Dyin’ Dog he drew a complete blank. He had no memory of him whatsoever. I even played the single over the phone hoping that might spark something, some kind of memory, but while he admitted he was clearly impressed with the performance, the name rang no bells. He did, however, invite me to pore through the Jewel archives in Shreveport to see what I could find.

The voice I’d heard on that record, guttural, unearthly, scraped to the sinew, continued to haunt me. I couldn’t even tell if Dyin’ Dog was black or white. I had to find out who was behind that sound, and how he got there.

I was able to schedule a trip to Louisiana two months later, and after a week of digging through cardboard boxes overflowing with contracts, press releases and sales reports, I at last came across my first solid lead. In a brief series of correspondence dated early 1975, a young musician named Roland Sheehan sang the praises of a wild new blues singer he was working with. The description sounded decidedly like Dyin’ Dog, though the name Sheehan used was “Alvin Snow.” More exciting still, another note from Sheehan made reference to some demos recorded by Snow and a small band headed by Sheehan on keyboards. He mentioned a few titles—“The Dog’s Dream,” “Pass for White”—which made me even more excited. In his encouraging response, Lewis, who was clearly acquainted with Sheehan, tentatively agreed to put Jewel behind Snow, adding, “But need to do something about the name. And the cursing. He curses too much.”

That was it. There was no further correspondence, no evidence the records were ever released. No press releases, no sales reports, nothing at all. Just those tantalizing hints Dyin’ Dog/Alvin Snow was real.

The next step was to contact Sheehan. He was not hard to find. He was still alive and living in Ruston, Louisiana. With no important business pulling me back to New Jersey, I rented a car in Shreveport and drove seventy miles to the north, to a small town near the Louisiana Tech campus. It was a typically sultry Louisiana afternoon in late July when I knocked on Sheehan’s door. He invited me in and offered me a beer.

Unlike Lewis, Sheehan, a burly man of 58 at the time with the unmistakable accent of a native, could remember Snow well, and was eager to talk about him.

“”Yeah, Alvin and Dyin’ Dog were the same,” Sheehan confirmed. “But Dyin’ Dog came along later. Close to the end. That was Stan’s idea. He thought Alvin needed a bluesier name, so we were Dyin’ Dog and the Mongrels.”

He said he first encountered Snow on the street in Ruston around 1974. Sheehan was in his early twenties and had been playing keyboards for a local blues rock band called The Alliance. He recalls that when he first saw Snow, he mistook him for Johnny Winter.

“He was hard to miss,” Sheehan said. “Ruston’s an itty-bitty town, and you don’t see many albinos just walking down the street here.”

I nearly did a spit take. Dyin’ Dog was an albino?

“Yeah,” Sheehan nodded. “White hair, chalky white skin, everything. Except he had these real pale blue eyes, not pink.”

What really caught his attention, he said, was less Snow being an albino than the song he was singing.

“Just belting it out as he was walking down the street. Screaming it almost. But he was good, like nothing I’d heard.”

So Sheehan stopped him, and the two started talking about music.

“I never really learned that much about him. His personal life or past or anything. He told me once he was raised in an orphanage, but that was it. I think he may have mentioned that his mom was black and his dad was white, or maybe the other way around, I’m not sure. I do remember his birthday was January thirteenth. Always liked to say he was born on Friday the thirteenth. I think it was 1938 or ’39, but I could be wrong. He was living with this nice older lady who had some money. We all just knew her as Miss Lillian. She really loved him. And he had this little dog. Chester, after Chester Burnet. I think someone had abandoned it or something. Its back legs were crippled, so Alvin made it this little cart or chariot or whatever. A thing with wheels so it could pull itself around. Ugliest little thing you ever seen, but Alvin was crazy about it.”

The picture that was coming together of Dyin’ Dog/Alvin Snow in no way corresponded with the picture I’d imagined after hearing that single, but that shouldn’t have surprised me.

Snow, Sheehan said, had a headful of songs, but didn’t know how to read or write music and couldn’t play any instruments, so the two of them would get together and Snow would hum or sing and Sheehan would transcribe the music.

“It was really wild stuff, really not like anything else. And if you’ve heard his voice you know. I mean he worshipped Howlin’’ Wolf. Really almost literally worshipped the guy, but I think he was doing something different.”

Sheehan pulled together a small backup band and they began rehearsing.

“Everything was coming together. We recorded ten or twelve demos at little studios in Shreveport, places Stan liked to use. I had Stan interested. And then I set up this show. It was going to be kind of a showcase with Dyin’ Dog and The Mongrels opening for my band The Alliance. That was gonna be in January of ’76. The thirteenth, Alvin’s birthday. But then he vanished just a couple days before. No word, nothing. E just vanished.”

Sheehan says a number of things happened in the weeks before Snow disappeared. His beloved dog died in an accident. Then Miss Lillian, the older woman he was living with, passed away on January tenth, three days before his first live show. And though it may be nothing but a strange coincidence, Howlin’ Wolf/Chester Burnett died the same day as Miss Lillian.

“To Alvin, that must’ve been like hearing God Almighty himself had up and died,” Sheehan commented.

Sheehan never saw or heard from Snow again. He also claimed to have no knowledge of what became of the master tapes of those first and only demos.

The ten years following my research trip to Louisiana witnessed enough detours, dead ends, red herrings and smashed hopes to fill a very long and frustrating book. Even with what I presume was his real name and his date of birth, record searches yielded nothing. I can find no information at all about Snow dating either before or after his time in Ruston, ca. 1974-’75.  You would think there would be at least some mention somewhere of an albino named Alvin Snow, whether or not he was still singing, but it was like he had emerged from that barren landscape I heard on that first record, then returned there again.

But now with the emergence of a second promo recording, it’s clear the story isn’t over yet. Someday, I’m confident, we may know what he did those first three and a half decades before he materialized singing on a Louisiana street, and what became of him afterward. Or maybe he’ll join the enigmatic ranks of Emmet Miller and Henry Thomas, and these two remarkable singles will remain the only record we’ll ever have.

by Paul Lyllyde

[tsarethan]

OTP questions for Bandit and Ghost

Who likes to go on drives to nowhere in particular

Bandit is the one who suggests it more often but they both enjoy it

Who is in charge of the radio or playlist in the car (and what do they play)?

Ghost, no questions asked. He usually puts on those low-fi styled songs as they fit well with late night long drives

Who reaches over to hold the other’s hand

Bandit

Who is more likely to hog the bed

Probably bandit since he’s bigger than Ghost and Ghost sleeps curled up tightly, but they both sleep clinging to each other

Who likes to drink their coffee or tea outside in the mornings

Bandit, cup of black coffee and cigarette is his favourite way to start the day

Who reads the paper or watches the news

Ghost watches the news when it’s on

Who comes home with the weirder work stories

Well they have the same job so they would both have weird work stories, the one that got the best laugh was when Ghost told Bandit about a bomber that was charging down a corridor towards him but tripped and landed on the detonator before they even got close to Ethan. Dominic immediately demanded to see the body cam footage after he calmed down enough to speak

Who takes long baths

Bandit, Ghost would sit on the floor next to the bath and keep him company, run his fingers through Dominic’s hair or hold his hand, since this only really happens when Bandit is having a bad day

Who gives the other a massage when they seem tense

Bandit, Ghost has no idea how to give a massage

Who prefers to kick back with a drink in the evenings

This is like their perfect evening, a good film and some beers in Ethan’s room.

Who stays up too late reading

Ghost, this boy is constantly re-reading the a song of ice and fire series

Who is the deep sleeper

Neither, unless one has taken sleeping tablets they are both very light sleepers

Who is the one who likes to cuddle?

They both do but if it was an option Ethan would cuddle with Dom 24/7

Who has awful taste in music?

Some of the songs Ethan likes are ‘questionable’

Who is the meme lover?

GHOST, but Bandit likes memes as well

How did their second date go?

They’re not the type of people to go on dates so it was probably just going to see a film then getting chippy on the way back to base. They had a good time.

Who hides the weapons?

I’m gonna say Ghost’s knife collection counts so, Ethan

What do their parents think of them dating?

Thatcher was cautious at first, Ethan had been taken advantage of many times in the past and his own failed marriage left him with a cynical view on relationships, but he mostly just kept an eye on them from the side-lines never really confronting Bandit about it. He eventually chilled out when he realised how happy Dominic made Ethan. Bandit hasn’t had contact with any of his family in years so who knows what they would think.

Are they a super sappy couple?

In public? no but when they’re alone they can be pretty sappy

Who stays up too late and makes stupid jokes?

Bandit 100%, once Dominic gets in one of those moods its guaranteed Ethan is getting very little sleep. No matter how hard he tries Ghost ends up laughing his head off even though he’s exhausted and just wants to sleep

Who is the nerd?

Ghost

Who knows the most obscure facts?

Ghost and he loves bothering Bandit with them at 3 in the morning (probably as retaliation for the stupid jokes that kept him awake the other night)

Who makes the other a flower crown?

Ghost, he would probably near die laughing at Dominic’s ‘so done with your shit’ face when he forces it onto his head.

“but Dom you look like a pretty little princess”

cuts to Bandit’s deadpanned face 

Who likes to read?

Ghost, Dom prefers it when Ethan reads out loud to him when they’re laying in bed at the end of a long day

Do they have similar taste in movies?

Somewhat, they both love the classic greats like The Matrix but when it comes to genres Ethan prefers horror while Bandit prefers comedies

Who has better fashion sense?

Ghost but not by much, Bandit just sticks to the ripped jeans and hoodies with that signature jacket while Ethan has a little bit more variation but not much

Who will punch someone out if they are rude to their partner?

They would both get aggressive, Bandit would be the punching one where as Ghost would pull out a switchblade, Ethan needs to work more on his reactions to anger. The rest of the team are more likely to interfere with Ghost than with Bandit for obvious reasons.

Who likes to prank the other?

Dominic ‘Bandit’ Brunsmeier, Ghost tries to prank him back but just can’t Dom is the king of pranks

Who is the one who loves to take pictures?

Ghost, the gallery on his phone is filled with memes and pictures of Bandit or his dogs. Bonus points is a picture of Dominic with the dogs

How would they react if they found out they were soul mates?

They’d make jokes about it and call it cringy but both of them would kinda be overwhelmed with the whole concept of it

What would they dress up as, for Halloween?

They wouldn’t dress up for Halloween although there were two occasions in which they did.

The first was when they bought a ghost face mask, one of them would wear the mask and hide in a cupboard or behind a door and the other would pretend to be on their phone in the room but was secretly filming it, some of the best victims to this were Rook, Castle, Mira, Thermite, Blackbeard, Ying and Harry.

The second was when Bandit made a bet with Ela and Dokkaebi, he lost an both Dominic had to wear Pikachu and Pichu onesies respectively  

Can they name each other’s favourite food?

Yup, I’ve already said ghosts is tuna pasta, but bandits is meat feast pizza

Do they have pet names for one another?

Yup again, Ghost calls Bandit the usual, baby, babe, love and when they’re alone sweetheart. Bandit uses the same but also calls Ethan Liebling, Mausebär and Schatz

How do they cheer each other up?

Depends on how upset they are, it can something as simple as smoking a joint together but others it can often be going on long drives or holding one another in the safety of Ethan’s room with gentle music on in the background

Do they show a lot of PDA?

Nope, the most would be cuddling on the couch or Ethan sitting on the floor in front of Dominic if there’s nowhere else to sit. Although they are always together and standing close to each other.

How old were they when they got together?

Ethan was 24 and Bandit was 32 (I age Bandit down in my au)

Who is the one that would bring the puppy home?

Neither of them really would since Ethan has Atlas and Brutus who both love Dominic as well

Can they do yoga couple’s poses?

Yeah, they would probably do it for a laugh in the gym when they don’t wanna work out

What is their song?

Berlin by Teeza

What does their room look like?

It’s Ethan’s room which I’ve put before is not that decorated since its on base, there are a couple of personal items in the room though like pictures and a few posters and books.

Who makes the other breakfast in bed?

Bandit, purely because he enjoys cooking more

Who loves kids more?

Ghost, there are plenty of kids in his family and they all mean the world to him but Bandit’s still good with kids.

Do either of them have a crazy ex?

Bandit does but he has long since lost all contact with her

What are their favourite colours?

Ethan’s is a dark blue while Dominic’s is black and yellow together (shocker)

Who likes to cook?

Bandit but he makes a mess every time, so it usually goes with Dominic cooking and Ethan cleaning up as he goes along

What do they do for Valentine’s Day?

They don’t celebrate valentine’s day although bandit did once buy that bear holding the heart with ‘shit bitch you fine’ on it

Who swears more?

Between how much Ethan calls people cunt and Dominic says Scheiße its hard to tell.

Who has the better comebacks?

Dominic, they are both good with comebacks for other people but between the two of them it would be Dominic

Do either of them know how to do a handstand?

Ghost can, he repeatedly tries to get a headshot while doing a handstand during training

What do they usually text about?

Just joking around and seeing what the other is up to, they rarely spend time away from each other. Mostly they get in trouble for texting each other during meetings trying to get the other to laugh out loud

Who is the dramatic one?

Ethan for sure

Is either one confrontational?

They can both be confrontational but Ghost more than Bandit. It takes a lot to get Bandit confrontational.

What is their favourite cuddle position?

Dominic laying on top of Ghost with his head on top of Ethan’s stomach, while Ethan runs his fingers through Dominic’s hair

Who would be the more laid back one?

Bandit

How do they work out a fight?

They spend time away from each other to calm down then go to their room and talk it out

Who has more songs on their phone?

Ghost he has a massive music library

What movie did they first see together?

Creed

What do they like to see each other in?

Honestly the first time ghost saw bandit in a suit he turned into a blushing teenager and was speechless for several minutes. Dominic loves seeing Ethan in his jacket

Who makes jokes during inappropriate times?

Bandit

Who does stuff on impulse?

Bandit, he makes about 70 plans in the space of 10 minutes

How do they comfort each other when they are helpless to do anything about the situation?

Hold each other, if there’s nothing else they can do they can comfort each other

What is an inside joke they have?

They have so many its borderline annoying for everyone else, the stupidest one they have is ending a sentence by saying “with your penis?” it’s a reference to an episode of law and order SVU that had them near crying laughing

Who makes the other smile with almost no effort at all?

They both do

What is their favourite holiday?

Halloween, free sweets, scaring people, pranks, movie night, everything about that they love

Who is the one that is calm and collected while the other is angry and destructive?

Bandit is calm and collected, Ghost is the other

Who sleep talks?

Bandit, he sometimes sleep walks as well, never fails to scare the crap out of Ghost

#oc #ghost and bandit #ghost #r6s #rainbow six siege

[convertidophoto]

A First foray in Space...

I’ve been thinking a lot about space lately.  No, not stars, blood moons, or black holes and the like but space as in venues, as in the common areas open to all.  The space where you, I, and others meet to interact. Yeah, that kind of space.  It seems to me that in some instances we are using it all wrong.  Perhaps you agree, perhaps you think I think too much, or perhaps you think I am thinking about something that requires no thought at all.  Well…as it happens at the gig Friday night someone brought up this very topic.  They asked me if I went to see (insert metallic HC band name here) at “the Post” the other night.  He said that it was one of the most violent shows he ever saw; dudes (yes nearly all men) were laying waste to each other while the band played. Oh, how the stars align.

 I am not sure where the kung fu dancing style at HC shows first appeared.  The acquisition of this fact is of little importance to me and I think I’ll live without that curiosity being satisfied.  What does concern me is what it portends for what I thought was a foundational principle of punk/hc/whatever-you-wanna-call-it (this thing we all do).  That principle being that a punk/hc show was our show and our space; it belonged to no one person or group; instead belonged to everyone who attended the show. The swinging arms, flying kicks, reckless thrown elbows, destroy utterly this idea by creating malicious enclaves [barriers] between the band and the audience.  I know, I know, I don’t get it, I’m old, I’m weak, or maybe it is that my kung fu just isn’t up to snuff, or maybe…just maybe, bear with me…cuz it might pain you to imagine such things…I’m right.  

Here’s the scene, you’re at the show really excited to see the bands.  Maybe you’ve heard the band, seen them before, or your ‘bro’ hipped you to them and you’re there to check ‘em out.  The band takes the stage, turns on their rigs, gives you cannibal come vegan snarl before launching into the sickest riff you’ve heard since that Slayer riff that sounds oh-so-close to what you’re digging now was released…then it happens.

Out of the darkness, you see what looks like a self-defense demonstration.  Fists and elbows fly without hesitation, that dude in the short-shorts is swinging his leg around with such speed that you are sure he’s part windmill.  Other participants tuck up and throw hands and mule kicks at imaginary attackers besetting them from all sides. Before you know it, the entire crowd has fled from the stage.  Cramming themselves into every inch of the periphery with arms held high to protect their faces from the mayhem.  The crowd forgets about Constipated Cookie Monster and the Beatdown Five providing the jams and who are pounding the stage like silverback gorillas in need of anger management.   When you finally feel comfortable enough to focus on the band you realize that the majority of the space for the crowd is monopolized by a dozen or so “dancers” and the remainder of the crowd is forced far from the band.  Mood killed and the show that you wanted to see so badly is now a bad memory which you wish never to repeat.

To many this sounds like an awesome time and mores the pity a typical show.  To others, myself included, this sounds absolute shit.  Whether or not the band is good or bad, is worth seeing again, or any other information gleamed from watching a band has been supplanted by the inevitable question, is staying in this room to see this band worth losing my teeth or getting knocked the fudge-out?  Those questions are nothing new and have been asked since the first guy staged dove (stage-dived? Oh, where are my punk rock grammarians at?) into the crowd.  What makes a substantive difference to me is the way in which space is used.

Punk/hc is visceral form of expression that in many cases lacks, utterly, any sense of subtlety.  As the form evolved from the late 1970s UK punk and The Ramones style retro-rock into 80s USHC the reaction to the music changed as well.  This is not unexpected as the inherit urgency of HC drives people to move without regard for themselves or others.  This trend continued with the expansion and popularization of HC.  The advent of crossover only worked to increase the ways in which the music elicited reactions in its expanding audience.  Pogoing was replaced by slam dancing and stage diving which became (?) moshing [whatever the hell that is anyway?!?!] by the late 80s.  Some bands eschewed the physical aspects of punk/hc and issued a challenge to their audiences (Fugazi) while others tired of violence that occasioned their shows and moved towards other audiences (7Seconds).  These changes coupled with the inevitable ending HC of other bands, the sound people wanted/loved/expected/demanded was hard to find.

Out of this vacuum came the explosion of late 80s HC bands, mostly SxE, who wanted to revert back to the pre-crossover style of HC and all that came with it.  At the same time, those people moved by the crossover thing kept progressing trying to make heavier and more ‘heavy and powerful’ records.  Then one day it happened, someone somewhere created the riff that played with just the right drumbeat moved people to stomp around then someone started swing their arms or legs and voila you have whatever-fudge kind of dancing they call it.  It may never have been equated before but punk/hc shows are a lot like real estate, location matters.  

The closer to the stage one can get at a show the better says I. Being able to see, to hear, and to feel (yes, we talking about feelings) the music is the purest way to enjoy any performance.  Plus up the front by the stage packed side by side with all the others wanting the experience, can create a collective sense of shared experience that remains bigger than any single show.  The shared sense of release, of elation, and of expression between the band and the crowd is strongest nearest the band.  The farther you move from the stage the less effect the band has on the room.

Not everyone wants to be up front smashed together being sweated upon, spat upon, spilled upon, jumped on, knocked around, and generally battered about while interacting with others also trying to enjoy the performance in its purest form.  Some people are not terribly interested in the bands performance; they are just there to dance, to slam, to mosh, or whatever the hell you call it.  The band is nothing but a soundtrack to release. Don’t get me wrong, to each their own…it’s not my thing (anymore) but I can see the necessity of just exorcising all the pent up emotions, piques, frustrations, and energies that punctuate life. Have at it y’all and ‘¡fuck it up __(insert name of city/state/scene here)___ style!’  All the young punks love a bit of that as the saying goes…

Behind the sing-a-long crowd and the dancing fools is the people who want to see the band, experience the music but would really prefer to be knocked around by kids who do not share the same fears about health insurance deductibles or the fragility of “old bones”.  In the back, there a bit more talking, visiting, seeing that person they’ve not seen since the last time (insert band here) played, also beverages flow freely and are consumed more responsibly (suggesting fewer spills not less liver damage).  Frankly, if one wants to be honest it is probably these people that bought tickets in advance and upon whose beer sales the venues counts to make a profit from the show. [drink up y’all!!]

I know, I know this a very general example and crowds are rarely described this easily.  The point I am trying to make remains apparent though.  The collective space of the show, the venue, is divided up amongst the crowd and inside the finite area the space is shared.  Everyone has their space to react and to interact with the band and everyone else in attendance.  If you want to be right on the stage as close as possible to be splashed with beer, sweat, and be spat upon by the guitarist from Night Birds or accidentally smacked upside the head by the singer of Scream or bass player of Econochrist (true stories y’all…for reals) then have it.  If, however, that is not your thing and you just want to go nuts dancing then back it up a few feet and go off.  Of course, if none of this appeals to you and all you really want to do is see that band that does it for you then you’ll likely be nearer the back.  Sharing is caring y’all, it isn’t always pretty or fair but it making use of a public space for mutual benefit.  In stark contrast to the above sits any live video of a beatdown/metalcore type band.  

YouTube is replete with videos where huge swaths of space are devoted to a dozen or so people engaged in what appears to be a synchronized martial arts demonstration or an attack by a swarm of invisible bees.  What is readily apparent at these shows is how the few “dancers” have pushed the rest of the crowd to the periphery of the venue.  There are few to no people at the stage experiencing the show.  All those people not “dancing” are trying to balance between watching the band and watching the dancers; undoubtedly they are doing so out of self-defense and for the inevitable train wreck that is foot to head or hand to head contact.  

In this exercise I see only one group telling another ‘this is how you will use this space, disagree at your own peril’.  Admittedly, I highly doubt any such an utterance emerged from the mouth or mind of any participant.  It never had to, the effect is the same.  What was once ours is now theirs and that isn’t cool.    

Slow your roll young blood…I’m not saying I know what punk is (can anyone really?) and I’m not saying anything negative about any individual, group, band, scene, etc. though clearly I am having a bit of a laugh at your silly asses.  What I’m saying is that what is happening with the use of space at some shows is self-defeating, selfish, and in the long-run a dead end for expression.  

Let’s really drive this point home shall we…no ambiguity, no mincing words, nothing left to chance or lost in translation…Lest you think I am picking on other forms of expression (personal or musical), or annoyingly kvetching about a style of music I don’t like (I’m not), let me be clear…I am only noting that the way in which the public space is used at one type of show occasioned by this style of dancing is not about shared use.  The way in which one small group dominates that space open to all appears to me to be antithetical to all that I believed punk was to be which was a liberating movement and a leveling force opening up avenues of expression to those previously shut out of venues for creative expression.  

QED vatos!

#rants #thoughts #punk shows #venues #general silliness #assanine rituals #bad kung fu #words no pictures #I really should update more often

[beardyallen]

Well, that went quickly...

What day is it? I’m starting to lose track of how long I’ve been here...

Well, it’s been a week since my last post, and it seems that a lot must have happened, but honestly I feel like I’ve just been cranking through a bunch of comic books.

But I do know that Friday and Saturday involved a good deal excitement, so I guess we had might as well pick up pretty much where we left off!

Last Friday was Orientation for ICB, which meant getting all of the 35-40 instructors, 10 staff members, and the 6-8 people in charge of this program together in a room to introduce us to...basically what we’d been doing all that week. Also, aside from a couple study-abroad-undergrads and my officemate and me, everyone there had probably already heard the spiel.

It was scheduled from 5p-6p with a buffett afterwards, but a bunch of the Communications people from my floor were going out to eat (again?) afterwards, so I made plans with NR. She wanted to try this Mexican restaurant in what I’ll describe as the “international district” of Beijing. Most everything around us when we got there looked like it belonged in literally every metropolitan area in the world. Every major brand you can imagine had a store. Multiple. Too many...

But the Mexican restaurant we visited is owned and managed by a Mexican expat, apparently. He even stopped by our table to ask how the food was, and let me tell you: that quesadilla was the BOMB!!! And the margarita was pretty good (not as good as MHO’C’s, though!). By the time we finished up dinner, it was kind of late, so we wondered around the shopping center, found a bookstore. You know: the usual.

Fun fact: when a store or restaurant wants to indicate to their patrons that they are getting ready to close, they play smooth jazz and turn the lights down. Like for real. Had their not been windows open to the pavilion outside with it’s hundreds of light displays, I would have been seriously concerned when the lights in the place just went out and Kenny G popped up on the speakers.

We entertained the idea of finding the cinema nearby to see Alita Battle Angel, but during the 15 minutes that we spent wondering around in search of the complex, it seemed to elude us. Plus it was getting close to that time when the subway shuts down, and I wasn’t exactly hankering for a taxi ride this early in my stay....if at all.

The next morning, I got up early to meet back up with NR at the National Museum near the Forbidden City. Now, for the most part, the stairs I get don’t bother me. But I will say, if you’re going to stair at the pasty white guy with a hard-to-describe-its-color-accurately-beard, maybe don’t do it when you’re going 15 mph on a bike, facing in the wrong direction! *sigh.....Some people’s kids...

But what really bothered me, especially at the time, was the father-of-three who straight-up filmed me on his phone from 5 feet away for a solid 6 minutes, three hallways, and two escalators! I get it, I’m funny looking. But I really think I a picture would have done just fine...

One of the things that bothered me the most about that experience was that (a) he had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, (b) his daughters seemed rather embarrassed, (c) he filmed me with the screen aimed at me so I could watch myself on his phone, (d) there was text on the screen, and (e) it went on for a solid 6 minutes.

In hindsight, I was wearing sunglasses and a hat, in a subway system, in the morning, heading to the center of Beijing. Maybe he thought I was a celebrity? I had spoken to a Communications graduate student the other day who happens to be black, and he told me the story of how a citizen here pull out their phone with a picture of Samuel L. Jackson on it, and gestured to him as it to ask if it were him...even though SLJ is for sure at 70 years old and this kid is no more than 35. And he looks 25. #smh

Anyway, after dealing with whatever the hell that was, I got to visit the museum! They, for whatever reason, were not allowing people to bring their charging blocks into the museum (external battery that you can use to charge your cell phone and other devices on-the-go), but more surprising to me was just how many people carried one with them! At least, it was surprising until I took a moment to think about it. As I’ve mentioned before, basically every payment made in Beijing is through WeChat, which needs internet access, so I guess it shouldn’t be too surprising. You also really can’t navigate through the city with some sort of Maps app; there are just too many bus routes, train routes, terminals and stops to keep logged in your head.

As far as the museum itself goes, the gifts to China from foreign governments exhibit and the Ancient China exhibit themselves took most of the day. Also, no surprise: the gift that took up the most floor space was given by a U.S. President. I also got a refresher in 8th Grade Social Studies. Too many small countries to remember all of them, and that space made me feel somewhat moronic.

The Ancient China exhibit was exceptional, though. They broke up the last, oh...750,000 years of human-ish life in China into 8-10 separate eras, the first few cataloguing the life and evolution of Homo erectus pekinensis into Homo sapien, while the latter eras were segregated dynastically. I’ve never seen the progression of human evolution laid out in such detail! The rock tools became better rock tools, then pottery and paper, stamps, buildings and so much more! There were even ceremonial helmets that would put the Juggernaut to shame!

It was strange, though, to have all of this knowledge just beyond my fingertips both literally and figuratively. The literal sense isn’t too shocking, as I’ve been to a museum before and know not to touch the pieces, but to have placards written in a language that would take years to learn was frustrating. Fortunately, NR has a never-ending supply of patience, and she translated much of the text. She even quizzed me on several of the characters. I’ve worked out how to write “rock” for sure.

After the museum, we wondered over to a nearby mall that, honestly, puts the Mall of America to shame. No joke. This place was huge! It just kept going and going and going! There was a particular alley that has all of the “exotic foods” that you might see on The Amazing Race, which I haven’t tried yet but intend to, but the rest is mostly-outdoor shopping center. Our reason for being there was to find food (we had been in the museum for a bit over 7 hours), and then sit our fine asses down in a movie theater to watch Alita.

We found a restaurant that served food traditionally found where NR grew up. It was exceptional. And the beer just made it better. :P

The movie experience was something else entirely. I’ve gotten used to watching television and movies with subtitles so that, when people decide to talk to me, I can follow along with both bits. Or if people are just talking near me while I’m watching television, I don’t have to rewind the show. That helped a lot; the movie was still spoken in English, but there were Chinese subtitles. I recognized the Chinese character for “1″ frequently enough, but that was about it.

The movie itself was way more than I expected. I shouldn’t be surprised, given that one of the primary characters is played by Christoph Waltz. If you haven’t seen it yet, you should definitely consider it.

Also, additional fun fact: I’m thinking that most (if not all) showings of major motion pictures here are in 3D. *shrug* Side note: we’re going to see Captain Marvel tomorrow and I’M SO FREAKIN’ EXCITED!!!!

After the movie, we wandered back to the subway station and parted ways mid-subway-ride to head home. The next day I spent playing Kingdom Hearts 3 and sipping some beer in the 3rd Floor Lounge. All day. It was blissful.

This workweek has consisted of four main things: teaching responsibilities, a bit of dissertation work, trying out another one of the cafeterias on campus, and reading comic books. Oh, and beer. But that kind of goes without saying, doesn’t it? There’s a convenience store on the other side of the building in front of the Guest House that has cans of beer. You can buy them individual for 3 yuan, or roughly 45 cents. I won’t lie to you: I bought 12 of them and it didn’t cost me more than 6 bucks. And it’s really not bad, and even more convenient than the liquor store I lived by in Denver.

Anyway, as I said, I’m going to see Captain Marvel tomorrow, then to “W-Town” (originally Watertown...so glad they shortened it...) in northern Beijing, which sits at the base of part of the Great Wall. More than 20 people from ICB will be heading up to their on Saturday, so I imagine one of them will take pictures. Probably ML or S. So you’ll have those to look forward to since you know I won’t be taking any!

Oh!!! I almost forgot the biggest thing that happened this week! Actually, it might be the biggest news of my entire stay!!!

I did laundry.

And I washed my slippers. I’m not convinced that they’ve stopped smelling, but I’m holding out hope that I’ve finally figured out how to resolve an issue that I know humanity has been seriously struggling with for decades. I’m on the verge of a breakthrough, people, I swear!

Anyway, time to finish this beer, read a bit more of Scott Lynch’s Republic of Thieves (WE FINALLY FIND OUT ABOUT SABETHA!!!!), and head to bed. Big couple of days ahead...

Sláinte,

BeardyAllen

P.S. I bet you thought I was gonna forget! After class on Wednesday, I worked out how to make a phone call from here to the States to wish my Mom a Happy BIrthday. Caught her at work, and we got to chat for a good long while. It really put a nice cap on my evening, and it seemed it gave her a good start to her day. Anyway, I hope you had a great evening, found something nice at C&B and enjoyed that glass of wine you mentioned! Love you!!

[ngenewyear]

Gift for thehprevolution from aubergineinfatuation.

Sorry this is a little long!

Fic:

“Shinji-kun, you are the apple of my eye.”

“…”

“The light of my life, my only sunshine.”

“…?”

“If I were to compare you to something, a summer day might be too cliche, and our contemporary understanding of an angel not entirely accurate, but –”

“Kaworu-kun, what are you talking about?”

Shinji sets down the homework he’d been trying (and failing) to complete for the last twenty minutes. He often prefers to study in Kaworu’s room, half because Kaworu is there but half because pretty much everyone else isn’t, but it does occasionally carry the occupational hazard of Kaworu being like…this.

“Oh, you looked up.” Kaworu smiles pleasantly, completely undeterred by Shinji’s former unresponsiveness. “I was trying…. what is it that you Lilin call it? Oh, right. I was trying some flirting techniques.”

Shinji blushes in spite of himself, in spite of the fact that they are already dating so Kaworu has no reason to flirt (and Shinji has no reason to let it affect him so much either); opting for the easiest course of action, he can only ask “Why?”

“Actually,” Kaworu says, propping himself up on one elbow. It seems to be his favorite position. “There was a book I found, when I was at your house the other day.”

“A book?”

“Yes. It was called, The Five Steps to Woo Any Man. Apparently it belongs to Katsuragi-san, but she said I could borrow it.”

Shinji recalls, quite distinctly, the way Misato had surrounded herself with a tower of beer cans and refused to get into bed until 1am, when he and Asuka had dragged her. There was something about Kaji, something about Ritsuko, but Shinji has stopped paying attention at this point. All he knows is that, apparently, leaving Kaworu and Misato alone is probably not a good idea, not even for the five minutes he left to go get snacks.

He wonders, distantly, where she even got that book.

“The first chapter was on compliments,” Kaworu says, and suddenly the book has materialized in his hand and is being waved above his head. “I decided to try out the ones they had in here, but Shinji-kun, you deserve every –”

“Kaworu-kun, you do know what ‘woo’ means, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“You don’t need to…. woo me. We’re already…” Shinji has no idea what he’s embarrassed by, after all this time, but as always, saying it out loud feels strange. “You know. We’re a already dating.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t compliment you?”

“No, but –”

“I think I’ll continue studying this anyways. Lilin mating rituals are so strange, after all.” and Kaworu’s smile is uncharacteristically mischievous, making Shinji’s heart skip. In both the good and the ‘slightly scared of what’s coming next’ way.

An eternal fifty/fifty with Kaworu.

And so Shinji decides that it’s time to take matters into his own hands. Abandoning his homework to the floor, he pulls himself up to Kaworu’s bed and makes a grab for the book.

Predictably, Kaworu dodges him, deftly switching it from one hand to another and then disposing of it somewhere – Shinji can’t tell where because Kaworu also manages to grab him and pull him to his chest, locking him in a gentle yet simultaneously firm backhug.

“Nice try, Shinji-kun,” he says, in a way that suggests he’s not planning on letting go any time soon.

Shinji finds that he’s okay with that.

x-x-x

It is barely two days later but Shinji has already forgotten entirely about the book and all of its contents. He has forgotten because Kaworu has done nothing to remind him – at least until he comes home and there are flowers pushed into the mail slot and piled around the front door.

He pushes open the door and is greeted with bouquets, bunches of flowers tied with twine, vases overflowing with red and white and pink. Misato sits in the middle of it, looking bemused, while Asuka stands by the kitchen table, looking pissed. Penpen chews on a leaf.

When Shinji walks through the door, Misato gives him the look of a predator who has just landed on some juicy prey. The corners of her lips quirk up, and Shinji immediately backs away.

Of course, he’s too late.

“Shinji-kun~” she says, voice raising sweetly, and Shinji shivers. “Why is it that ever since this morning, I’ve been receiving flowers all addressed to you?”

“Yeah,” Asuka says, plucking a flower from a vase and staring at it in disgust. “I’d like to know, too. Are these all from Ayanami? I didn’t realize she was capable of having feelings.”

It’s at times like these Shinji is glad he never told either of them about his relationship. It’s not as though he has anything to hide, per se – but he figures he receives enough teasing (from Misato) and verbal abuse (from Asuka) on a daily basis that he can be forgiven for wanting some privacy regarding his personal affairs.

And, of course, if Asuka paid him any measure of attention in school she might have figured it out – because Kaworu is neither subtle nor willing to be – but thankfully she has adopted a strategy of acting like Shinji is a stranger whenever she encounters him in a public place, which she sticks to unwaveringly.

As for Misato, Kaworu is just Shinji’s friend. A friend with a total lack of personal space and a penchant to stare whoever he’s talking to directly in the eyes, but a friend nonetheless.

They’ll never have to know.

“It definitely wasn’t Rei,” Shinji says, because honestly the idea is laughable. He begins gathering the flowers in his arms, but to his dismay, there are even more on the kitchen counter, and far too many to carry overall. “I think I know who it may be, though.”

“Who?” Asuka demands, but Shinji is out the door before she can pursue him further and luckily, there are too many flowers blocking her way to catch up. All he can hear is Misato’s distant laughing (unaware that this is all entirely her fault, probably) and then nothing.

x-x-x

He finds Kaworu is the expected position: cradling a cat by the side of the road. As though he can instinctively sense him coming, he turns to face Shinji once he gets close, gently playing with the cat’s paw.

“Shinji-kun!” he says, nearly beaming. “I see you received the flowers.”

“I… did…” Shinji says, speaking around the bouquet that nearly blocks his face. “Kaworu-kun, why are there so many…?”

“Red roses symbolize love,” Kaworu says immediately. “White carnations, pure love. Purple lilac, first love. Jasmine, sensual love. Forget-me-nots – well, I’m sure you know. And white dittany is said to be an aphrodis–”

“Kaworu-kun!” Shinji shouts even though there’s no one else around, and nearly drops the flowers in his haste. “Were you reading that book again?”

“The second chapter was on gift-giving,” Kaworu says, setting the cat down. It winds around his ankles and purrs. “Apparently men prefer fashionable watches or neckties, but flowers were another option. I thought you might prefer them more.”

“They’re pretty, but… you must’ve bought the entire store!”

“I just wanted to communicate every possible meaning I could,” Kaworu laughs softly as though enjoying some personal joke. “It’s fascinating how you Lilin assign an entirely new language to the weeds that grow around you. I find it charming.”

“I don’t really get it myself, but…” the cat meows at him and Shinji pets it tentatively. “This is… the first time I’ve ever received flowers.”

“Did you enjoy it, then?”

It’s just the two of them, so it’s probably okay. Shinji nods, ever so slightly. “Yes….Thank you, Kaworu-kun.”

“I’m glad, then.” Kaworu smiles like the sun and Shinji’s looks away, lest he be drawn in by Kaworu’s annoyingly irresistible charm.

“All I’m saying is, don’t go crazy because of what some book says,” Shinji tells Kaworu, glancing at him sideways. “I have no idea what we’re going to do with all of those flowers, we might have to throw some away…”

“How about you return them to the earth?” Kaworu suggests as the two of them begin walking down the street. The stray kitten follows behind, mewing plaintively after them.

“I don’t know, the stems are already cut….” Shinji says, glancing behind them. The one kitten following them has multiplied into several, and Kaworu has practically a kitten army on his tail by the time they get to the end of the street. “You really attract them, huh?”

“They seem to like me, and I think they’re cute.” Kaworu says, scooping another cat into his arms. “They remind me of you, Shinji-kun.”

Shinji looks away, embarrassed mostly because as cheesy as Kaworu is, he’s also completely earnest, and he probably meant that when he said it. “I’d say that little white one looks more like you.”

“What do you say we adopt it, then?” Kaworu says, and Shinji knows he’s probably joking but reacts instantly anyways.

“I don’t think I’m ready to be a parent.”

Kaworu laughs at him as they walk in the setting sun.

x-x-x

Shinji has become pretty accustomed to not getting much time with Kaworu at school, despite the fact that they’re in the same class and even sit relatively near to each other. It’s not surprising; Kaworu, in the same vein as Rei, is intelligent, athletic, and handsome enough to warrant a significant amount of popularity, particularly from female members of the class, who don’t seem to mind his occasional misunderstanding of human behaviors.

Shinji, on the flip side, enjoyed his most significant amount of popularity when his status as an EVA pilot was discovered, and since then has faded back into the background. And he’s fine with just being with Toji and Kensuke; even if he’s jealous of the crowd of girls that habitually surrounds Kaworu during lunch and break times, he’s long since accepted the hierarchy at school.

So he’s more than a little surprised when during lunch Kaworu places a pair of chopsticks in his face and says, “Shinji-kun, say aaaah.”

“Kaworu-kun, what –” Shinji realizes a little too late that he shouldn’t have asked, because Kaworu takes the opportunity to shove the chopsticks into his mouth, their contents unknown.

On instinct, Shinji swallows, and then gags as the taste hits his tongue, at once cloyingly sweet and then overwhelmingly salty. Kaworu raises the chopsticks again – it looks like he’s trying to feed him some kind of omelet – but Shinji makes sure to push them away before making inquiries this time.

“Kaworu-kun, what are you doing?” Shinji asks – despairingly, because he thinks he knows the answer already.

“The book said, ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Kaworu looks immensely pleased with himself as he holds up a bento Shinji had not noticed before, packed to the brim with brightly colored foods Shinji can’t quite identify. “So I made you this.”

At this point Shinji is keenly aware of the looks Toji and Kensuke are giving him, from two desks away. They had initially resented Kaworu for his incredible success with the girls of the class, until Shinji had convinced them he had no interest in things like that – and then they went on to bemoan that he was squandering his luck by going for someone “like Shinji”.

Kaworu, for his part, had cheerfully proclaimed that any friend of Shinji’s was a friend of his.

Now the two of them are staring at Shinji in a way that suggests that they won’t say anything at that point in time, but are planning on giving him an earful later. All he can do at this point is count his blessings that Asuka is across the room eating with the class rep and paying them no attention.

“I wasn’t sure what you would like, so I tried a little bit of everything,” Kaworu says, pointing at each part of the bento box in turn. “I don’t need to eat, so I’m not well-versed in these matters, but I tried everything myself and I think you’ll like it.”

“Thank you, Kaworu-kun, this is….” Shinji examines the bento. It’s true that it’s much more substantial than the bread he was planning on eating instead (Misato wasn’t really one for packed lunches) and, well, Kaworu is talented at basically everything else, so Shinji has no reason to doubt his cooking. That first bite was just a little strong – it’s probably fine.

Still, he errs on the side of caution and goes for the safest option – white rice.

“Wait, Shinji-kun,” Kaworu says, tapping his chopsticks on the table. “Let me feed it to you.”

“Wait, wait, why do we have to –?”

“That’s what the book said to do,” Kaworu says, like the answer is perfectly obvious. “And I quite like the idea, myself.”

“Kaworu-kun –”

“What are you guys doing?” and without warning, Asuka is standing over their desks, arms crossed. “Half the class is looking over here like there’s a dead body.”

Shinji is dismayed to realize that she’s right – excepting Rei, who is mercifully reading a book and paying them no attention like usual. The urge to run away is stronger than ever before.

“Nagisa, is this bento yours?” Asuka asks. She doesn’t like Kaworu, and makes it abundantly clear. Shinji thinks they have quite possibly the least compatible personalities ever, and while Kaworu has never said a word about it, he suspects the feeling may be mutual. “I know Shinji can’t cook like this.”

“Yes, I made it.” Kaworu says pleasantly, disregarding – or perhaps contributing to – the tension in the air. “Do you want some, Asuka-san? I won’t feed you, though.”

Asuka looks visibly scandalized, and Kensuke chokes on his drink in the background, though whether from surprise or laughter, Shinji’s not sure.

“Gross, I wouldn’t want you to!”

“All right then,” Kaworu says, and he brings the chopsticks back up to Shinji’s mouth. “All right, Shinji-kun –”

And at that moment, Shinji can see connections inside Asuka’s head beginning to form, synapses forming an intricate web to his doom. Before she can even finish the sentence, “Wait, were those flowers the other day –” he has Kaworu by one hand and the bento in the other and is out the door before either of them can blink.

They end up on the school roof and in fashion truly unique to him, Kaworu is completely unbothered by Shinji’s abrupt exit from the classroom. Instead, he just presses a hand against the fences surrounding the roof and remarks, “It’s lovely at this time of day, isn’t it?”

“Kaworu-kun…”

Kaworu turns to face him, the slight wind ruffling his hair slightly. No matter how disarming his smile is, Shinji is still in awe sometimes of how handsome Kaworu is – for lack of a better word, angelic.

“I’m happy you’re doing all of this for me, but…” Shinji sits down on one of the benches, placing the bento in his lap. “It’s just, you know, doing it in front of everybody…”

“Lilin are very concerned about privacy,” Kaworu remarks, settling down on the bench next to Shinji and leaning back on his palms. “Is that why you wanted to be up here alone?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, if you’d rather be more private, then I’ll do my best to be that way too. Because I want you to be happy, Shinji-kun.” and he’s so sincere it makes Shinji’s chest tighten a little – but in the good way. The way only Kaworu can do.

“With that said…” Kaworu picks up the chopsticks again. “There’s no one else here, so is it alright if we pick up where we left off?”

And as embarrassingly lovey-dovey as it is, Shinji would be a liar if he said this exact scenario hadn’t occurred to him at least once, in the form of distant fever dreams, probably, but nonetheless – and so he agrees.

And actually, it tastes pretty good. Of course, Kaworu couldn’t screw up plain rice, and it’s actually impressive how many little fruits and vegetables he managed to cut up into cute flower shapes. A couple onigiri, some bamboo shoots, a little bit of Hamburg steak – the only part that tastes odd is the rolled omelet, which Shinji chews and swallows with reservation.

“Kaworu, what’s in this?” he asks when he’s done. Moreover, what kitchen did you use and where did you get these ingredients – but Shinji keeps those to himself, for now.

Kaworu thinks for a moment before responding. “Tomatoes, mushrooms, ginger, lemon peels, some pumpkin, soy sauce –”

“Why?”

“The book said omelets benefited from variety.”

And before Kaworu can feed him another piece, Shinji leans over to kiss him. Partially to protect his stomach for later. But also because, well, being alone together has its benefits sometimes.

x-x-x

“Shinji-kun.” They’re staring outside the door of Kaworu’s room in NERV headquarters and Kaworu is looking uncharacteristically serious. “I gave some thought to what you told me yesterday.”

“What was that, again….?”

“You wanted to keep things more private between us.” and then suddenly Kaworu’s waving that damn book around again, like he always carries it in his back pocket or something. “So, the next chapter in here was about physical affection.”

Shinji suddenly feels all the heat in his body rush to his… face. Kaworu can’t mean – definitely not, after all, they’ve showered together and shared the same bed and it’s just been kissing and hand-holding, up to this point. Kaworu’s not even human, there’s no way he’d have an interest in that, probably just saying “the things you Lilin do for reproductive purposes are so strange” –

…but, so far, he’s followed the book’s instructions thoroughly, and maybe it’s time – it’s finally time – and Shinji doesn’t think he’d be opposed –

And as all of this goes through Shinji’s head, Kaworu takes his face in his hands and kisses his forehead, cheeks, and nose in turn. Then he takes his hands and kisses his palms, and then each of his fingers.

Shinji actually starts crying.

“I’m sorry, did you not like it?” Kaworu says, looking legitimately distressed. “I thought it might be more intimate –”

“No, it’s fine,” Shinji says, because he doesn’t know how to articulate that “no one has ever touched me that tenderly in so long and I don’t know how to react” without delving into personal problems that have been buried so long it would be unwise to uncover them. He wipes at his face determinedly. “It’s just… not what I was expecting.”

“You were disappointed?”

“More… surprised.”

Kaworu touches his cheek lightly. “I apologize. What should I do instead?”

“Well… if you would try it again, I might know what to expect this time.”

Much, much later, once they’ve returned to Kaworu’s room, Shinji decides that this is his favorite chapter of that book to date.

x-x-x

It’s been about a week, and Shinji is starting to get curious. The book which Kaworu had been following so religiously was titled The Five Steps to Woo Any Man. And yet only four steps have occurred, at least to his knowledge so far. With how enthusiastic Kaworu had been, he wonders why the sudden stop – and then chastises himself for even expecting anything when he’s done nothing to deserve it.

Still, it remains on the back of his mind until one day they’re all walking home from school, Toji arguing with Asuka and Asuka trying to argue with Rei, when Kaworu takes Shinji by the arm and pulls him back.

“There’s something I want to show you,” he says, cryptic as usual, and then starts walking in the opposite direction of home, going fast enough that by the time anyone could notice their absence, they’re already down the hill and several streets away.

They end up traversing a part of the city Shinji is not familiar with, and his curiosity only grows as they leave the more populated areas behind and begin wandering through abandoned and rundown buildings, surrounded by the wreckage and detritus of the old world.

Just when Shinji thinks Kaworu must be either lost or seriously misled, he stops them in front of the ruins of a church, identifiable by the blown-out stained glass and miraculously still-standing pews. Most remarkably, though, is the piano sitting in the middle of it all, somehow still unblemished and in perfect shape, despite its dilapidated surroundings.

“Here, sit down.” Kaworu says, and Shinji sits next to him on the piano bench, admiring the faint glow of the ivory keys in the low light, untouched even by dust. He runs one finger across the smooth surface.

“The very last chapter of the book was a difficult one,” Kaworu says, resting his hands on the keys but not playing a note. “All it said was, share what you love.”

“That was it?”

“Yes. But when I thought about it… well, I realized I didn’t know enough about Earth to really have anything I loved that much. Just you. But that doesn’t really work, right?”

“No, I guess not…”

“But then I remembered,” and Kaworu breaks into a radiant smile. “The Lilin’s best invention is music. So I thought that we could share that.”

Shinji’s breath catches in his throat, a bit, and he has no idea what to say. It’s a simple gesture but somehow there’s some gravity to it, some incredible significance to something so small. He realizes, deeply and probably with much delay, just how much Kaworu has been thinking of him all this time.

Like he understands what Shinji’s thinking, Kaworu doesn’t wait for a response, and instead places his hands on the keys and plays a few notes. Graceful and deliberate, this, like everything else, seems to come easily to Kaworu. Shinji recognizes it as Beethoven, but knows little else.

When the song finishes, all Shinji can say is, “That’s beautiful.” For some reason Kaworu’s playing makes him choked up, but in a good way. Always in the good way.

Kaworu glances at him sidelong like he wants to say something, but for once opts not to. Instead he takes Shinji’s hand and lays his fingers lightly on the keys.

“I thought we could play a song together,” he says, and taps out a few notes. This one Shinji recognizes – Ode to Joy.

The song Kaworu was singing when they first met.

“It’s relatively simple, even for beginners.” Kaworu says. “I can teach you the notes.”

“I’d like to learn, but….” impulsively,  Shinji rests his head against Kaworu’s shoulder. “Could you first do another song for me? I like to listen to you play.”

“Of course,” Kaworu says, and he places his hands down again. Shinji listens and thinks how ridiculous this all is – the book and the steps and everything. Kaworu never needed any of that. He had his heart from the beginning.

Above the sound of the piano, Shinji’s not sure if Kaworu will hear his whispered “I love you”. But he must have, because he smiles ever so slightly and begins to play another song.

#shinji ikari #kaworu nagisa #ngenewyear #nge #evangelion #neon genesis evangelion #submission #gifts 2018