hi here 2 ask for ash williams being really gay w/ his bf post army of darkness. just soft shit. him being like "damn i rlly take u for granted. love u or something" ya idk im just yearning
ash williams / reader || fluff 001
“Really gave this guy what for at work today,” Ash said, tossing his car keys on the table.
"Welcome home," you replied from the couch, glancing up at him over your magazine.
He's wrestling the shirt off of his body, not even taking the time to unfasten any buttons. He's eager to peel the uniform off of his skin after a long day of stocking and taking more smoke breaks than he should. The shirt is crumpled between his fingers, and without looking, he lobs the ball of fabric in the general direction of the hamper. Only by sheer chance does he make his goal, the sleeve hanging partially out of the wire basket.
In a few ways, he was a predictable man, and you sort of liked that about him. It was nice for someone so present in your life to have some form of consistency. He walks over to the kitchen, and you can hear the opening of the fridge and the faint clinking of bottles as he acquired his after-work beer, one of his many daily rituals.
"Well, aren't you gonna ask me what happened?" He shouts, turning to look over his shoulder while rummaging through food, prompted by your lack of proper acknowledgement. You snort, knowing that he was going to tell you regardless of your response.
"Do tell," you say, perhaps a bit sarcastically, tilting your head to the side. It's evident by the quiet huff that follows, and the shutting of the fridge, along with no bottle in his hand, that he didn't find what he was looking for. Not all is lost, though, and you hear the sound of a belt being unbuckled and the rustling of denim hitting the floor. Regardless of the letdown, he struts back into the living room in nothing but his boxers with the confidence of a man about to recreate a scenario with an unnecessary amount of enthusiasm. You place your magazine on your chest, propping yourself from your horizontal position, and allow him your attention.
Ash's hands settle on his hips, and from this angle, you could see the slight glint of his top scars catching a sliver of light.
"So there I was," he starts, splaying his hands toward you, "Replenishing the plums in isle seven - and I hate isle seven. You know, the one I told you about before? With the leaky cooling vent, and a perfect view of the manager's office so you can't relax on the job?"
He mimes taking a hit off of a blunt to indicate what exact kind of relaxation he was thinking of. You stifle a laugh and furrow your eyebrows, pointing at him a pseudo-judgemental look.
"Come on," he says, looking at you incredulously. "Like you've never had fun on the clock before. Anyway, like I was saying - there I was, putting together a really fantastic fruit pyramid, and I mean really fantastic, when Mister 'I-want-a-fruit-at-the-very-bottom-of-the-pyramid' comes over and guess what?"
"He took the fruit at the very bottom of the p-"
"He took the fruit at the very bottom of the god damn pyramid. And they all came down. It was like a healthy avalanche."
Ash looks off into the distance for a moment, as if remembering the event down to the finest detail. There's an empty look in his eyes.
"And you know, this clown just started to walk away back to his shopping cart. I couldn't believe it. So you know what I did?"
He points an index towards you, quiet for a moment. Presumably to build up suspense.
"I put a hand on that guy's shoulder, and said 'Where are you going, buster? Pick. These. Up.'"
Ash's arm is extended, and his hand is clasped around the shoulder of this imaginary man. You get the feeling that he's retelling this in a slightly more heroic lens, but he seems satisfied with himself. He didn't say anything else, though, so you spoke up.
"Well? What did he say?"
"He, uh, he said 'No'. And then he went and told my supervisor that I touched him. But let me tell you, I bet he was real intimidated for a second there. Real intimidated."
"I bet he was. Did you manage to rebuild your fruit pyramid?" You're not going to be the one to shatter his ego. Not that you think that was even possible, anyhow.
"Oh, nah. I just went to go take a shit and made it someone else's problem."
"What would S-Mart do without you?"
"That's what I'm saying. Hey - did you know that we're out of beer?" He says, pointing a finger in the direction of the fridge.
"No we're not," You reply, pointing at the sweating six pack sitting on the coffee table. You'd made sure to pull it out before he got home, and were just waiting for him to notice it at this point. "Got some on the way home earlier today."
Ash stares at the six-pack that had been sitting right below his nose, and then looks at you with a baffling amount of appreciation in his eyes - the sort of fondness a rescue dog had for its owner.
He approaches you on the couch, and now he’s closer you realize that he is ridiculously sweaty. Before you get a chance to protest, he's pulled your back toward his front on the couch, and places a kiss on the top of your scalp.
"God, I take you for granted."
He threads an arm underneath your armpit and holds you closer. He places another kiss on your cheek. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, and he takes the opportunity to kiss you squarely on the mouth.
"Have I ever told you I loved you?"
"Yeah, a couple times, I think." You tease, stroking the side of his jaw with the back of your hand. "But you know how you can really show me you love me?" You continue, voice tinged with the smallest hint of promise.
"How?" Ash asks, thinking he knew where this was going.
You kiss him on the cheek. "You can pick your jeans up off of the kitchen floor."
