#god forbid i take a shower WITHOUT bringing my phone

[southislandwren]

oooooh okay so boy 1) texted first, and texted to ask if i made it to town safely. 2) asked about my class schedule. 3) we work together for 5 hours every monday lets fucking gooooo

[thrillered]

"You Know I Mountain Dew It For Ya" | Spencer Agnew x Reader | Pt. 9

Pt. 9: Fallout

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I'm so sorry o7

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You woke up early, the birds were just beginning their morning songs. For a moment it was bliss, you were secure in Spencer’s arms as he curled around you, leaving a strong arm around your waist. 

You often woke up cuddling with Spencer when you or he slept over, your bodies like magnets, naturally finding their way together in the night. This time it was different. Everything was different. 

Your mind reeled with memories of the previous night. It all felt very dreamy but if you focused hard enough you could still feel the pressure of his lips on yours. Oh my god he kissed me, You thought to yourself. And I kissed him back. 

Warming at the thought you untangled yourself from Spencer’s embrace, sliding out of bed to grab your phone and quietly slip into the bathroom. You locked the door behind you, leaning against the counter you looked at yourself in the mirror. You were a blushing mess. The flashes of last night consumed you. How were you going to focus at all today? You turned the faucet on, cupping the cool water in your hands before bringing it up to your face. 

All at once the bliss you felt remembering the previous night turned to dread. Everything was going to change: your personal relationship with Spencer, your professional relationship… god forbid you ever go in public together because the fans are relentless. Your thoughts began to spiral. You had wanted Spencer for so long but now that you might have him (pending his morning confession you requested) it was too much. 

You couldn’t think in his apartment, everything smelled like him and he was fast asleep in the other room. Needing to think clearly you did what anyone would do you went back to bed you left. 

Exiting the bathroom you took one last look at Spencer’s sleeping form. The early morning light casting a warm glow on his features. You grabbed your bag and as quietly as possible you left, locking his apartment behind you. 

You all but ran to your car, needing to get away. Everything felt too real. You drove home, taking a slightly longer route than usual, allowing the purr of your engine and the morning breeze to calm you. 

When you arrived home you knew you only had like two hours before Spencer would wake up and realize you were gone. You stripped your clothes off, overwhelmed at how strongly they smelled like Spencer. Hopping in the shower you let the cool water run over you. 

You continued your morning rituals, your anxiety spiking as the time ticked closer to having to talk to Spencer. Unsure of what to do you texted Amanda, knowing she would be awake already. You asked her to talk and soon got on a facetime call with her. 

You had barely answered the phone before Amanda could tell something was wrong, “Oh honey, what’s going on?” 

“I’m not sure what to do,” You began, “I was at Spencer’s last night and we got high and we kissed and he told me he loved me.”

“Well that’s good isn’t it?” Amanda questioned, having clocked your feelings forever ago. 

“No. I mean yes? I don’t know?” You sighed, “I’ve wanted this for so long but now things are gonna change and that’s so scary and what if this doesn’t work with the company or the fans hate it or-” 

“Take a breath Y/N”  Amanda cut you off, seeing you spiraling, “Let’s break this down, okay? First, the company is fine, Shayne and Court are literally married, no one will be upset, in fact I think there would be some bets needing to be cashed in.” She laughed, “Second: The fans don’t have to know anything, they are not entitled to your personal life so you don’t even need to think about that. But third: where is Spencer now?” 

You were grateful for Amanda, she was always so comforting and wise. You already felt calmer. “He’s at his house, I kinda left at like 5 am because I got scared and started to spiral…”

“Oh honey no.” Amanda sighed, “He’s gonna wake up without you there and freak out, he's so protective of you. You need to at least text him and tell him you left so when he wakes up he doesn’t lose his shit.” 

You knew Amanda was right. But you were terrified to actually talk to Spencer about everything.

–

The sun was beaming through sheer curtains, creating a serene moment in Spencer’s bedroom. Until his alarm started blaring. He haphazardly searched for his phone, turning off the alarm before rolling over to pull you close to him again, but his arms found nothing. He opened his eyes to find an empty bed. He felt around, not even finding a warm spot where you had been, it was like you were never there. 

Was last night a dream? Did Spencer imagine that it all happened? No, he couldn’t have, he could still feel your fingers parting through his hair. He got out of bed, walking to the bathroom, assuming you were just in there getting ready.. 

The light was off and he opened the door, his anxiety spiking as he found no one. He all but ran to the kitchen, searching for your stuff only to find nothing. Your bag, shoes, and keys were all gone. You had left. 

You had asked him to tell you everything in the morning and now that the sun had risen you were gone. Something must have happened to you. He walked back into his room and grabbed his phone, eager to call you and check in. As he picked up his phone he saw your contact “Y/N!!! :)))” with a message from 5:45 am, Hey sorry, my landlord needed me for something, see you at work. 

For a moment he was worried that he pushed himself on you. But you kissed him back, you told him you loved him too. 

All at once Spencer was pissed. He had poured his heart out and not only did you not fully believe him but you LEFT. He knew your landlord didn’t need you, he could read you like a book and you were lying, he just didn’t know why. His heart shattered, why would you do this? 

He threw his phone on the bed, exasperated by the morning's events. Spencer had planned to wake up next to you and have the first thing you hear be his undying love for you. He was ready to become more. He didn’t know how he would even look at you today.

[hamiltonaf]

Bitter | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: Sexual tension / Teasing

A/N: Apologies for being MIA, slowly getting back into writing after a busy few weeks. Will hopefully be posting more oneshots soon. Hope you babes enjoy .xoxo

(Y/F/N) - Your Friend’s Name

What started off as a chilled day, unfortunately didn’t end that way. The day had started off with Achraf coming over, we caught up for some time before I decided to leave him and Kylian alone. I walked off to our room in hopes of either being productive or finding something entertaining to kill some time.

I was settled comfortably in bed with my phone in one hand and TV remote in the other, I skipped through movies whilst scrolling through Instagram simultaneously. It wasn’t until I got a call from (Y/F/N) that I put my phone on speaker and continued skipping through movies. “Heyyy !” she said enthusiastically. “Hey girl ! What’s up ?” I greeted. “Nothing much, just getting ready at the moment. How about you ?” She asked. “Getting ready ? For what ?” I furrowed my brows. “For Jason’s birthday dinner ! Aren’t you coming ?” She asked in shock.

“Oh shit.. that’s today” I hit my forehead. “Duh ! Didn’t you read the invite ?” she said in an obvious tone. “Obviously I did, I just didn’t have any intention to go…” I trailed. “Why ? Is it Kylian ?” She asked concerned. “No no. Don’t you remember he used to like me ? What would Kylian think if I’m attending a party of a guy that used to like me ?”

“Damn I actually forgot about that” she stifled a giggle. “Well that was in damn high school, we’re all adults now. I’m sure he moved on and besides that, I don’t want to go alone and I don’t want to talk to anyone else there” she whined. “Ugh I don’t know” I pursed my lips. “Oh come on man. Nothing bad is gonna happen and god forbid anything does, I’m here to throw hands” she reassured. “I feel bad though” I pouted. “If you really feel that bad, bring your mans with” she suggested. “I could but Achraf is over at the moment, I don’t know if he’s leaving anytime soon so it’s a bit of a sticky situation” I said. “Come on… pleaseeeee” she whined. I thought about it for a bit before sighing and agreeing to go. “I love you ! You’re the bestest. Call me when you’re here. Ciao” she said lastly before ending the call.

I groaned as I got up from my comfy position on the bed and headed to the bathroom to have a shower. I had plenty of time since it was a dinner anyway so I took my time to do my hair and makeup, before slipping on my skirt and top.

I sat at the edge of the bed to strap on my heels when suddenly the door burst open. Kylian’s gaze immediately fell on me. He whistled as he walked over to stand in front of me. “Mon amour is this all for me ?” He wiggled his brows playfully. “Not today babe” I said as I stood up and walked over to my dresser to spray on some perfume. "He raised a brow in confusion, “Then where are you going ?”. "Remember that dinner party thing I was telling you about earlier this week and I didn’t want to go… Well, it's today and I need you to drop me off please" I said as I walked over to stand in front of him whilst he was seated at the edge of the bed.

“What made you change your mind ?” He asked curiously. “(Y/F/N) refuses to go without me” I sighed. “Then tell her to not go” he said obviously. “You know her, she doesn’t take no for an answer. Besides that, she’s kinda curious to see where everyone is at all these years since high school. I mean its been like 6 years so it’s also a reunion thing” I said as I caressed his hands which he then stood up. "Okay" he let out a sigh. “Thank you baby!” I pecked his lips before I walked over to my dresser to grab my purse. His hands then wrapped around my waist with his face nuzzled in my neck. “I wanted us to spend alone time” he mumbled.

“Why do you have to look so good” he pouted as he then kissed my cheek. “I’m all yours later” I then placed a kiss on his cheek and turned to face him, whilst I was still held by him. "Who's going ?" He asked. "I don't believe you know anyone there that's going besides (Y/F/N)" I said as I grabbed his hand and pulled him along with me downstairs. As he always does, he held the passenger door open for me and shut it once I was in the car before going to the drivers side. I checked the time on my phone and I couldn’t believe that I had so much of time, and I was currently running late.

The ride to the restaurant was fairly quiet, only the music playing softly in the background had filled the silence. It was a comfortable silence though, not alarming, considering he drove with one hand on my thigh and one hand on the steering wheel. He of course had to rev the car when we stopped in front of the restaurant. Show off. "Oh my god everyone's looking" I said under my breath. "That's a good thing" he said from beside me.

My friends were all stood outside...I wonder why ? A few guys were out here as well, I could see Kylian’s jaw clench when he saw, Jason. Kylian doesn’t know about Jason liking me ages ago, I never bothered mentioning it because I never thought I’d see him again and not to say I dated the guy anyway. If I mentioned it on the way here then you bet Kylian is making a u-turn back home.

The car clearly caught everyone's attention as some people wanted to know who was going to come out of it. "You’re coming along right ?" I turned to look at him. He didn’t answer as he just looked at the guys outside. “Ky” I called. “Hmm” he hummed then turned to look at me. “Are you coming ?” I repeated my question. “Yeah yeah, you can jump off if you want whilst I go park” He smiled at me as he watched me step out of the car. He rolled down the window as I shut the door, just then Jason walked towards me to pull me in for a hug. "Hey! Thanks for coming" he smiled. "Thanks for inviting me" I smiled back. He then looked behind me to see the car.

"Hey man, sick ride !" Jason said as he leaned against the car door to talk to Kylian. "Thanks" he said plainly. I tried to hold back my laugh, he clearly doesn't like him. "Why don't you join us ?" Jason asked. That's when I stepped in because I know Kylian is going to give him a sarcastic answer. "Sure, he’d love to" I said as I stood beside Jason. "Great, we'll see you inside" Jason said. Kylian then sped off to park the car as everyone walked inside the restaurant. I excused myself as I decided to wait for Kylian outside. Little did Jason know is that Kylian was going to come regardless of an invite.

I had my arms crossed over my chest as he walked towards me with a smug look on his face. "What ?” I raised a brow. “Nothing…” he trailed and stood behind me to whisper in my ear. “Walking towards you and seeing you in that skirt is doing things to me, all I can think about is what we’d be doing if we were at home right now.” I could feel the heat suddenly rush to my cheeks. “Please don’t start” I said as I shut my eyes and tried to shake off the dirty thoughts away. “Well, let’s see how long you last before you’re rushing me to go home” he smirked. “Hmm we’ll see about that” I said as I turned to briefly look at him behind me. He then grabbed a hold of my hand and led the way.

Yet again all eyes were on the both of us, the only empty seat that was left for the both of us was one next to Jason and some other guy whom I didn't know. Since I knew Jason, I was just about to pull the seat to sit next to him but Kylian sat in place I gave him a look before sitting down next to him. "So I didn't catch your name" Jason spoke as he turned to look at Kylian. I pressed my lips together so hard to stop myself from laughing. "Kylian" he answered. "Jason, but I bet you already knew that" he smiled. "As a matter of fact, I didn't, (Y/N) never mentioned you until now" Kylian said oblivious. This liar. I lightly hit his leg under the table intentionally. “By that he means I knew about the invite but I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it because Kylian has training and matches” I said with a smile.

"What do you do mate ?" Jason asked him, now he's intrigued, completely oblivious to who Kylian is and what he does. Can’t blame Jason, he’s lived in the USA pretty much his whole life until he came as an exchange student and after about a year he left back. "Football player…but you’re still studying right ?" Kylian asked. "I was but I dropped out a few months ago, my parents are pretty rich so I thought why should I waste my time" he chuckled. Kylian then glanced at me in signal to lean in closer, "Is this a joke" he whispered. I stifled a laugh but kept myself together. "So you mean soccer ?" Jason asked. I thought I should answer that before Kylian gives in a cold reply back. "On the European side it’s known as football, Jason. He plays for PSG" I smiled proudly. I placed my hand on top of his in signal to stay calm.

"Is that where you guys kick the ball into the net ?" Jason asked. I could see Kylian clench his jaw and roll his eyes, he's so done with him. I was about to speak up but Kylian decided to answer that instead, "Yeah man, we waste about 90 mins trying to get the ball into the net. Sounds like fun doesn't it ?" Kylian said sarcastically. "No" Jason chuckled, he didn't catch on. When Jason turned to have a conversation with the girl next to him, Kylian turned to look at me. "Just look at this idiot" he said as he gestured to Jason. "Calm down Ky. He’s not European so he doesn’t keep up with sport" I giggled.

The whole night Jason was trying to become friends with Kylian but he was having none of it and just wanted to leave, he was already offended by his assumption of playing football and the fact that he called it soccer. Whilst Kylian was talking to Jason, I ended up making friends with Scott beside me. I learned that he was Jason’s best friend from the US as well. The whole 5 minutes I learned about Scott was all going well until I felt Kylian’s hand laying on my thigh. I quickly looked at him beside me and he was still chatting to Jason. I didn’t react and continued my conversation with Scott until I felt his hand ride up higher on my thigh, his thumb caressing my inner thigh. I felt like I was melting internally. When his fingers travelled under my skirt I placed my hand on top of his to stop him. “Would you excuse me please” I said as I abruptly stood up. “(Y/F/N) care to join me ?” I asked. She took a hint and followed me along to the bathroom.

“What’s wrong ?” (Y/F/N) whisper yelled. “Just needed a breather from Scott” I lied. I faked a sigh of relief as we got to the bathroom. “What happened ?” She asked curiously. “He was just boring me and I felt the need to leave” I shrugged. “Ahh shame. Bummer he’s really cute though” she pointed out. “He’s all yours” I smiled at her and gave her a pat on her shoulder. “Bet, is he single” she raised s brow. “You bet” I smiled. “Then please do the honours of being my wingwoman” she pouted. “Babes, I’m already on it” I said as I freshened up before leaving the bathroom and pulling her along with me.

As we walked back, everyone’s attention was pulled to Jason’s story telling. I took a seat in my spot and felt Kylian’s gaze burning through me. He leaned in close and mumbled, “Missed you” then placed a kiss on my cheek. “I’m sure you did” I said low enough for only him to hear. Missed me for very obvious reasons. I then played around with the napkin on my lap before purposely dropping it on the floor. I reached below the table for it with one hand whilst my other hand slowly moved up his leg and stopped mid thigh. I could feel him stiffen under my touch as he held a firm grip on the arm of the chair. I sat up straight and crossed my legs over pretending that nothing is going on. My hand traveled further up his thigh until his hand firmly gripped mine to stop me. I then thought of continuing my conversation with Scott before Kylian could say something.

I played my role as wingwoman for (Y/F/N) as she asked. I could feel through the entire conversation Kylian was literally burning me with his gaze. He’s itching to leave and I’m not. Since he still held my hand and I couldn’t fight his grip, as a tease I thought of gripping his thigh. He was tensed and shifted a lot in his seat because he was getting annoyed.

After everyone finished eating their dinner and paid up, Jason had suggested that we all take pictures outside. I went first since Kylian wanted to leave ASAP. I was caught off guard when Jason wrapped his arms around my waist from behind with his head on my shoulder. I could see Kylian clench his jaw again, he was fuming and that's when he decided to speak up. "That picture is missing something" he said. "What ?" Jason asked as he released his grip on me and had his hand on my lower back. "Me" Kylian said in an obvious tone.

"Wait" Kylian yelled before the guy could take the picture. Kylian stood in between Jason and I, satisfied he could place his hand on my lower back instead. Jason seemed a bit disappointed but anywho. "Stop being so jealous will you ?" I whispered loud enough so only he could hear. After the guy took the picture, Kylian hadn't let go of my hand whilst I hugged Jason. Kylian then pulled me aside as he asked, "Why do you have such stupid friends ?". "Just because you don't like one of them, doesn't mean you can call them all stupid" I raised my brows at him. “Hey !” (Y/F/N) whined as she butted into our conversation. “Except for you” I said as I looked at her. “Made a new friend, Kylian ?” She asked him. “Never could be friends with that guy” Kylian scoffed. “Anyways, we gotta go” he said as he waved everyone off and as did I. I pulled (Y/F/N) for a quick hug and greeted her goodbye, before my hand was entwined with Kylian’s again as he walked me to the car.

“Soooo” I trailed once he got into the car. "Jason is an idiot, let's not get into it" he said as he sped off. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing, “Ky, he was just trying to be your friend” I playfully said. “Friend ? By laughing and saying football is where you kick a ball into the net ? Was that a joke and I missed it ?” He asked with a raised brow. “In all seriousness, he wasn’t joking. Just let it slide, he’s from the US so he doesn’t know much” I leaned my head against the glass window. “Doesn’t know much ?” He scoffed. “He was literally staring at you, I mean who the hell is he to hold you like that ?”

I pressed my lips together firmly to hold back my laugh. “Forget about Jason, what was that stunt you pulled ?” He raised a brow. “What stunt ?” I innocently asked. “You wanna play that game ?” He asked as he stole a glance. “Don’t know what you’re talking about babe” I said as I crossed my legs over. “Alright then, I’ll jog your memory when we’re back home” he said as he then placed a hand back on my thigh.

(A/N: I’m so sorry for ending it like that, it’s so late rn and I had this in my drafts for too long .xx)

[mooodyblue]

when you love someone | late 60s!elvis x gn!reader

summary: you had a hard week and all elvis wants to do is make you feel better

wc: 1.7k

warnings: depression, mentions of anxiety, set after filming live a little love a little, gender neutral reader, written with my love and tears

note: 2 fics in one week ?? that's so crazy. i wrote this to comfort myself so i hope it's comforting to some of y'all too. somewhat inspired by this song. send in requests yall!! as always, may contain inaccuracies and mistakes. enjoy.

masterlist | send a request or say hi :)

you and elvis had been dating for a couple years now, meeting him on the set of one of his movies as an assistant. it was going well and you were happy to be able to travel with elvis whenever he was off filming. until word got out about your relationship and the colonel forbid you from stepping foot on set during this recent movie. not only would you be unable to see elvis for a long period of time, but you'd just lost your job as well. times like these made you grateful to have elvis around since he had offered to help you with rent until he could move you into graceland.

however, being home all alone was taking a toll on you. elvis was to return soon and you were a mess. you hadn't called him nor returned any of his phone calls in a week, dishes were piling up, and god knows when you last showered. you didn't even know what day it was. you'd been glued to your couch for the past week, refusing to get up for anything. elvis was probably worried about you but whatever. he's better off without you anyway, right?

you were on your fourth nap of the day, falling asleep to the sound of a random show on tv and drowning out the sounds of the telephone in the distance every hour or so. you didn't even realize elvis had shown up to your house.

he was grateful you had given him an extra key before he left since you didn't bother going to the door. the sight broke his heart. he first noticed the pile of mail he accidentally stepped on when he first walked in, picking it all up and bringing it to the living room where he saw you asleep peacefully, dirty dishes spread around the coffee table. it wasn't any better when he stepped foot in the kitchen, looking at a sink full of various pots and pans coated with dinner that must have been made three or four days ago. it was no wonder you hadn't returned his calls. he was worried sick about you. even being in your house, he was still worried, unsure of how you'd react to him being at your house when you woke up.

any other man would grab their things and leave, completely ignoring the state of a house this messy. but elvis wasn't any other man, he was your boyfriend and he adored you. it upset him terribly knowing you must of been feeling bad recently for your house, which was once kept so pristine, to end up in such a mess. the fact you'd have to clean this all up one day must have been adding on to your stress as well and he wasn't going to have that. time to get to work.

starting with the living room, he quietly began bringing dishes to the kitchen, washing, drying them and setting them back where they belong. he didn't forget the pots and pans either, scrubbing away for what felt like ages and laying them out to dry. he swept and wiped down the counters for you as well along with discarding any empty food packages you'd thrown around and hadn't bothered to pick up. you were still sound asleep by the time he finished cleaning the kitchen and living room so he went ahead and did your laundry too, not forgetting to fold and put away your clothes in the way you liked them organized.

he hated waking you up for anything, but it was getting late and he knew you'd regret napping like this so close to your usual bedtime. he kneeled down to the couch, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "hon?" he said, shaking you softly from your sleep.

you opened your eyes to a concerned elvis, looking at you with sad, tired eyes. you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, your brain finally registering that your boyfriend was in your own home after being away for a month. "elvis?"

he flashed a smile at you. "hi baby, what's goin' on?"

you sat up slowly, patting down your unbrushed bed hair. you looked around, noticing the lack of dishes and the new cleanliness of your home. "what-elvis. please tell me you-"

"don't worry about it, it's the least i can do." he sat on the edge, leaning in to give you a much-needed kiss until you backed away from him, covering yourself. "don't. you shouldn't see me like this. i thought i had another week."

he frowned. "oh baby, you're still beautiful." he kissed you anyway, placing a hand on the side of your cheek. "i came home early cause you wouldn't answer my calls, i was worried sick, darlin'"

you turned away from him, avoiding eye contact, embarrassed. here he was, the most handsome man to ever exist on this earth was in front of you while you sat there with your unbrushed hair and clothes from a week ago. "i'm sorry."

he turned your face back towards him. "none of that, no apologizin'" he stood up and held out his hand. "lets go run you a bath, sound good?"

you took his hand as he took you to the bathroom, passing the kitchen and finding yourself feeling guilty for letting elvis do all of this for you, especially for letting him see you like this. he drew you a warm bath, helping you undress and helping you in as he sat on the edge of the tub, washing away a weeks worth of dirt from your hair and body. he was gentle with you. massaging your scalp with your favorite strawberry shampoo and rinsing it out carefully. you noticed the bathroom was cleaned too. there was that feeling of guilt again. you couldn't even look elvis in the eye, not even while he was humming one of the songs he used in a recent film as he conditioned your hair.

"which one was that?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"what? the conditioner? it's the strawberry one, did i use-"

you rolled your eyes playfully. "no, the song."

his lips perked up, chuckling softly. "i didn't even realize i was hummin'" he shook his head, moving onto rinsing your hair out again. "almost in love."

"excited to hear it." you murmured, running your hands through the soapy bath water.

"you'll like it." he reached for the towel behind him, drying your hair thoroughly. "at least i hope you do." he joked.

your face scrunched up as he went a little too rough drying your hair, mumbling a quiet 'sorry'. "why wouldn't i? i love everything you release."

he unplugged the drain and helped you out of the tub, handing you a towel for you to dry the rest of your body off as he fetched you some clean clothes. "is that right? don't lie now."

you dried yourself off, "yeah elvis, i hate everything you release." you said sarcastically as you put on your clothes. you tried to ignore how he also did your laundry for you, shaking off the guilt.

"there we go, that's what i like to hear." he joked. he picked up your brush and placed both hands on your face, giving you a quick kiss. "you're awful." you said. he grinned at you, tapping your nose with his finger. "aren't i just the worst?" he took your hand again, pulling you to your bedroom. he sat you on the edge of the bed as he got behind you, brushing away gently. you took a quick glance in the small mirror sitting on your dresser and watched as he brushed your hair. your eyes welled up with tears. you felt so undeserving of elvis and his kindness. the guilt was starting to eat away at you. there weren't enough words to describe how much you loved elvis and how well he treated you.

it wasn't long until elvis noticed your tears, setting the brush aside and turning you towards him. "oh no, baby. c'mere." he pulled you in a tight embrace, letting you cry into his shoulder as you held him tightly. "let it all out, i got you."

"i'm so sorry, you shouldn't have done any of this for me. i don't know what got into me, it's just been so hard." you said in between sobs. your anxiety finally caught up to you. losing your job and fearing you'd lose elvis too, you didn't know what you would do without him.

elvis rubbed your back up and down, letting you vent and cry. "i know hon, i know." he whispered. "'m here now. i'll take care of you." he had his own insecurities, often worrying about what fans think of his movies. how he was unhappy with how a lot of them turned out and how badly he wanted to move on from them. it was something he often spoke to you about. you were the one who made him not give up on his career, you gave him that boost he always needed. it was always you, now it was his turn for a change.

you apologized over and over again for making him take care of you. the tears just wouldn't stop. he released you from his embrace to crawl up to the headboard, you following shortly after. he pulled you in his lap as you rested your head on his chest, sniffling softly. "don't want to ever hear you apologize. none of this is your fault, you got that? i just wish you knew how much you mean to me." he said, running his fingers through your damp hair. "love you so much, little one. so damn much. wish i could take those nasty little thoughts from your head and deal with 'em myself."

"you don't wanna know what my thoughts are like, elvis. i wouldn't wish it on anyone." you mumbled.

he sighed. "i'm sorry you have to go through that, baby. you don't deserve that. at least i can make 'em go away for awhile." he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close.

"thank you for everything, really. i love you."

"love you too, little one. always will." he replied softly, going back to humming the same song from earlier as he rocked the two of you gently from side to side, leaving you in your own little world for a little while.

[crestfallencrest]

Freezing

Summary: Yuri never minded the cold. He was usually the type to get through a harsh and cold winter day without much issue. Today, however, was not one of those days.

Prompt: No prompt, just some Duke/Yuri conversations in the discord that left me INSPIRED. Modern AU (Other oneshots can be read here on Ao3! [x] ) Pairings: Duke/Yuri Genre: Fluff Warnings: N/A Word Count: 1,998

Been hit with a tiny writing slump (too many ideas grabbing my attention) but I really really started liking Duke/Yuri lately and I really REALLY wanted to write a winter themed one shot for the Holidays so here I am. Short but sweet! Also, a present for my fellow Yuri/Duke lovers in the discord server I'm in <3

Yuri wasn’t the type of person who got cold easily. 

He had always been that way growing up. While Flynn would be bundled up with multiple layers from head to toe, Yuri could usually get by with a simple jacket and gloves. Maybe a scarf if it was a particularly windy day. But regardless, he would usually get through the day without a single complaint. ( “That’s rare, coming from you.” Flynn had said once, to which Yuri promptly told him to shove it and stop being jealous. )

His resistance to the cold seemed to shock his friends whenever it was brought up. Usually the topic would come up whenever one of his more ‘motherly hen’ friends ( coughEstellecough) would exclaim in shock over how little layers Yuri had decided to wear that day and every time, he would have to explain that he simply didn’t mind the cold weather. He moved around too much for it to bother him too much and a lot of his time on the job was usually spent indoors. Plus, growing up in a shoddy apartment without a heating system did wonders in helping Yuri adjust to the wonders of freezing temperatures. 

Today, however, was not one of those days where he could simply just shrug off the harsh and bitter winds of that winter afternoon. 

He worked as a cook at a small little restaurant on the other side of town and unfortunately, whatever otherworldly being that watched over him had decided that he was looking just a tad too dry when he was working on washing the dishes at the end of his shift. A pipe had burst and Yuri was quickly and completely soaked within seconds. It turned out that his simple afternoon shift had quickly turned into a closing shift as the restaurant had to be shut down early so the plumber could come in and fix the issue. 

Unfortunately for Yuri, it wasn’t like he had any spare clothes to change into at the restaurant. He was starting to wonder if maybe some extra layers wasn’t such a bad idea after all but he also couldn’t give his partner and certain other people leverage to say ‘I told you so.’

Not that they could right now, even if they wanted to. The water jet from Hell decided that soaking him to the bone wasn’t enough and that it also had to completely destroy his phone in the process. So calling someone to come and pick him up or bring him some spare clothes was unfortunately out of the question. 

So, Yuri decided to just fucking deal with it. 

It wasn’t that long of a walk to the bus stop and he’s endured worse before. So all he had to do was make it onto the bus, ignore the sting of his freezing fingers and the shivering of his body, get home, strip and take a very warm shower and hopefully no one would be any the wiser. Gods forbid the scolding he would get if his partner caught him out in freezing temperatures, soaked from head to toe. He could definitely hear his voice now if he saw Yuri at this moment, all huddled over and shivering as if seconds away from freezing to death at any given moment. He’d be concerned, of course, but his deep voice would also have that slight hint of disapproval as he would say–

“You wouldn’t be so cold if you had taken the extra coat like I had asked.”

Yeah, he would say it exactly like that. 

Wait. 

Aw, fuck.

Yuri momentarily forgot about the winter’s frozen touch slowly creeping through his body just long enough for his body to jolt into a more straightened standing position. He whipped his head around, following the voice’s source and he wasn’t sure if he was cursed or blessed to see the familiar red eyes piercing into his soul with what he could only assume was his stare of judgment that he could only work to perfect the longer they lived together. 

Long white strands poked from the red wool knit cap that he wore over his head, with the rest of it being held down by the black and white checkered scarf that was, in Yuri’s opinion, quite horrendous but it had been a gift from Judith when she was last in town so, of course, his partner saw no reason to not use it. Sure enough, Yuri could tell that the man was wearing at least two layers of clothing to combat the cold weather and for once in his life, Yuri was a bit jealous. 

“Oh, h-hey Duke.” Yuri greeted with a tiny grin, trying to bite back the shiver in his voice. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Duke quietly moved to stand by him at the bus stop, letting his arm raise a bit to show off the small grocery bag in his hand. “Groceries.” He answered simply before turning his head a bit to face him. “You mentioned needing to make cookies later this week for the holidays, did you not? We were out of sugar and butter.”

“A-Ah…” Yuri nodded quickly, letting his arms wrap around himself. “G-Good catch–”

The words barely left Yuri’s mouth before he realized that Duke was staring him down, eyes narrowed slightly before his free hand reached over to brush against Yuri’s shoulder. Duke was generally a hard person to surprise. In fact, despite Yuri’s life mission to try and startle this man at literally every given opportunity, he was ashamed to admit that he’s only managed to pull it off a handful of times and instead, it seemed to be Duke that would catch Yuri off guard, most days. 

(For example, how in the hell was he supposed to expect that Duke Pantarei of all fucking people would confess first?! No one could have possibly expected that! Of course Yuri would be surprised by that!)

However, upon letting his fingers brush against the jacket that was undoubtedly carrying more water than warmth, Yuri was surprised to see Duke’s hand jerk back in surprise. Yuri watched as his eyes widened and his serious expression tightened, frown stretching across his face. He didn’t say anything and instead just stared at Yuri and… ah, yeah, Yuri was fully familiar with that look. He was definitely in trouble. 

“I’ve had one hell of a day.” Was all Yuri could offer and that definitely did not seem to quell Duke’s concerns. 

“Why are you standing outside in this weather as wet as you are?”

“Man, and it’s not even the fun kind of wet–”

“Yuri.” 

Man, he kept hoping that that joke would land. Maybe one day. 

Yuri shoved his hands into his pockets, though it didn’t seem to help the impending chill that was quickly returning to his body. “A pipe busted at work and unfortunately, I was right in the line of fire. And I didn’t have a change of clothes.” 

Duke’s eyebrows furrowed. “You could have called me.”

“Oh yeah. Might need a new phone. Water got into my current one.” Yuri would have laughed had he not lost maybe two years worth of pictures on that damn brick. Thankfully he shared a lot of the pictures with his friend group and Duke but it would be such a pain to get those pictures back. Ugh. 

Duke quietly placed the grocery bag onto the bench and began to pull off his jacket and scarf. “I see…” He mused quietly as he finally looked back at his lover. “Take off your jacket and put this on over your clothes. Along with the scarf.” 

“I’m not going to steal your jacket and scarf. Then you’ll be cold!” And the last thing he wanted was Duke to be freezing too. 

“Between you and myself, are you really going to argue that I will be the cold one here?” Duke asked, once again holding out the jacket and scarf and… okay, yeah, he maybe had a point. 

Slipping out of the soaked jacket was almost torture for Yuri because while he wore a long sleeve shirt to work today, it sure as hell wasn’t built for this weather but sometimes you had to get colder in order to get warmer. He quickly shoved the jacket on and buttoned it up in record time and the warmth of the jacket having been on Duke’s body seemed to creep through Yuri’s body. 

Yuri shivered in relief as Duke took his wet jacket and placed it to the side for now before moving to wrap the scarf around Yuri’s neck. Feeling Duke’s warm, gloved fingers brush against the freezing skin of his neck and cheeks had Yuri nearly move to chase after the warmth of his partner as he gently reached behind him to pull his hair out from underneath the scarf. He was still wet underneath the jacket but the warmth of his jacket and scarf was already a major improvement.

“Mm…Feels nice…” Yuri hummed slowly, letting his eyes close as Duke’s fingers once again brushed against his cheek and this time, he couldn’t help himself as he stepped closer. 

This seemed to give Duke pause and Yuri cracked an eye open to see those soft red eyes staring down at his own. Duke was hard to read at times and it was a miracle that Yuri had managed to pin down the ability on how to read Duke’s expressions. Which is why he felt his chest light up when he saw his lover staring down at him oh-so-softly. 

Yuri was never a big romantic but even that was enough to have his heart doing flips. “You know, that’s usually when you, the boyfriend, would respond with some sort of sappy remark about always keeping me warm or something and then you’d like… do that.” He quickly added in, that teasing smirk making its way onto his face. 

“Do that?”

“Yeah. Keeping me warm.” 

“Hm. I didn’t realize that I was being held up to a certain standard.” Duke responded as he let his fingers stroke Yuri’s cheek once more before finally allowing himself to cup Yuri’s cold face into his impossibly warm hands. 

The shiver of warm relief shot through Yuri once more as he pressed his cheek further into Duke’s touch with a content smile. “We’ll work on it. Should I go jump in the lake down the street so we can try again?”

“I’d much rather we just get you home and warm you up.” 

“You’re no fun.” Yuri answered with a click of the tongue. 

And then he looked back at Duke, who had the faintest smile on his face as he stared down at Yuri. Yuri could hear the bus make its way down the street, preparing to come and pick them up to take them back to the apartment they shared but before Duke pulled away to prepare to climb onto the bus, he let his thumb brush gently against Yuri’s lip. 

“I see the meaning was lost on you.” Duke replied before he finally pulled away (and Yuri will swear to his dying days that he did not whine when the warmth left with him.) “I suppose I’ll have to do better next time.” 

As Duke grabbed Yuri’s discarded wet lump of a jacket and the grocery bag, Yuri was left wondering what Duke could have possibly been talking about regarding lost meanings and doing better next time as the bus pulled up next to them, opening the doors to offer them entry. Duke spared him one glance before climbing the steps onto the vehicle, the amused smile still clear as day and Yuri couldn’t help but feel like he had missed a joke somewhere along the way–

Oh. 

Oh. That’s what he meant by warming him up.

Cheeks burning from the cold weather and absolutely positively nothing else , Yuri was certain that he had never hopped onto a bus so fast in his life

---

And then they went home and 'warmed up' and Yuri absolutely did not catch the worst case of the sniffles right before the holidays! Thank you for reading!

[weirdos-am-i-right]

Fuck Traveling// Pete Davidson x reader

Request from @annalayton19

Hi! I’m a new follower and I really like your stuff! Could I request a Pete Davidson x reader (angst to fluff) where Pete is on tour or filming away from home and the reader is left behind. After like 6 months of being apart Pete starts to get tired of the long distance and basically like done with it. And then he realizes his mistake and comes home to make it up to her! I’m sorry if that’s super long! Also if this imagine doesn’t interest you, then no sweat! Thank you so much in advance 💕

A/n: This took so much less time then I thought it would. Anyway, here you go, I really hope you like it!

Warning: angst, swearing, like one cigarettes

€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€

Six months. Six months was an extremely long time to be away from someone you loved.

Y/n sat on the couch, a small pout on her lips. She looked at Pete—her boyfriend of a year—and frowned. “I wish I could go with you.” Pete frowns too, and sits down next to her.

“I know. I wish you were coming with me too. But hey, it’s only a couple of months, all right? I’ll be back before you know it.” He kissed her cheek.

“I just wish my contract would let me. You have no idea how annoying it is to not be able to do things because of freaking Marvel.” She groans, falling on her back with a slight ‘plop’.

“Well, because of freaking Marvel, you are one of the best actresses out there. And I know you’re going to kill it with filming. My tour isn’t even that cool. It’ll broke you to death.” He jokes, leaning back on the arm of the couch.

“Babe, you’re a comedian.”

“Oh right, I forgot.” He grabs her arm, and pulls her up into his chest. “I love you, okay?” He lifts her chin up, and kisses her. “So fucking much. We’ll face time everyday, I’ll call you every evening and wish you goodnight.”

“Okay.” She looked over a the clock, and sighed. “We have to go. Your flight is leaving soon.” He brushes hair behind her ear, bringing her eyes back to him.

“I love you. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I love you, too.”

********

The car ride to the airport was long, and quiet. Pete was driving, he had one hand on the steering wheel, and one hand on Y/n’s leg, rubbing small circles into the center of her thigh.

She knew she was going to miss him so much, but she also knew she was going to be extremely busy with filming, so it wouldn’t be as bad.

Once they were at the gate, they tearfully hugged, and she kissed him. “All right, now get out of here. We’re not doing that rom-com turn back at the last second goodbye.” She laughed at him, tears steaming down her face a bit. He wiped one with his thumb, and kissed her again. “Love you. Now go, so I get to watch you walk away.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She turns around, and starts walking back to her car. She knew he hated leaving her too, but he was a lot better at hiding emotions then she was, that was one of the only things she learned while dating him.

She got in her car, and put her head on her steering wheel.

She groans, and leans back. Starting her car, she pulled out of the airport, and drove home.

**********

The first few months were the worst. Y/n hated going to bed alone, the left side of the bed always cold.

She was filming almost every day, and seeing her co-workers and friends always cheered her up, after all she had been working with the same people for quite some time now, so she felt comfortable around them.

The fourth month was slowly becoming easier. She got use to coming home to no one there, and making dinner for herself. She still talked to Pete every day, texting him good morning, and Goodnight, and FaceTiming him a lot during the day.

Though she knew he loved her, she felt as though he was slightly pulling away. The FaceTime calls were short, and he never texted her back right away like he use to.

“And so, we we’re almost done with the shoot, so close I could practically taste the coffee in my trailer waiting for me, and then Kevin calls cut, and he makes us do the whole scene over again! I swear, I was about to strange that man. Ugh, I can’t wait til you come home. Only two more weeks, I can’t believe we made it.” Y/n rants, talking to Pete on the phone.

“Uh huh. Cool.” He wasn’t looking at her, instead his attention was somewhere else. Y/n frowns, tilting her head a bit.

“Pete…are, are you okay?” That seemed to catch his attention, and he finally looked at the screen.

“What? I’m fine.”

“Okay…you just seem so…different lately. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but you seem like you don’t have time for me anymore. Or if you do, you don’t like talking to me.” Pete scoffs.

“Of course I don’t have time for you right now. I’m in between shows, I’m driving to one as we speak. I mean, god forbid I get a minute to myself without my agents or you calling me.” Pete snapped.

“Wha-I’m just talking to you. If you didn’t want to, you could have said something.”

“That’s bullshit you would have thrown a fucking hissy fit or something.” He rolls his eyes.

“That’s not true. I understand when people are tired, believe me I would know.”

“Would you?”

“Yes!” She had tears stinging her eyes. “Of course I do, you’re forgetting what I do for a living. I work from 6 am to whenever we finish which most of the time is in the middle of the night. I have to re-do the same scene about ten times because RDJ won’t stop making jokes in the middle of the scene!”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot about your super-star actress life.”

“Why are you being so mean to me? I was only concerned about you.”

“Mean? What are you, five? I can’t-I can’t do this anymore.” She huffs, crossing her arms.

“What do you talking about? Are you breaking up with me?”

“Wh-”

“Because then fine. If you don’t want to be with me, I don’t have to take this shit. I’ll be with someone who, oh, I don’t know is actually here.”

“Oh that’s fucking rich, you know I can’t be there, don’t even do that.” She scoffs.

“I don’t care. You want to act like a petty bitch, I have no problem doing it right back.”

“No, I think you’re just a petty bitch.” She wipes her eye, and he laughs dryly. “Oh of course you’re crying.”

“Shut up. If you don’t want to be with me, fine. Go enjoy your show, Pete.” She hung up the phone, and turned off the ringer. She plugged it into her charger, and went into the bathroom, turning the shower on.

********

Pete rubbed his eyes, and took a drag of his cigarette. He knew he shouldn’t have snapped at her, it wasn’t her fault he was cranky, and needed to take it out on someone.

“I’m a dick.” He mumbles to himself, and bangs his steering wheel.

His phone rang again, and for a good second his heart leaping out of his chest, thinking it was his girlfriend, calling him back. He checked the phone, seeing it was Colson. He answered the call.

“What’s up, man?” Pete asks.

“The shows starting soon. You almost here?” Colson questioned. Pete looked at his google maps, seeing he was supposed to be there in ten minutes.

“I’m a good ten minutes away. I’ll be there.”

“You sound weird. What the fuck did you take without me?” Colson asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uh…Y/n and I just broke up. I think.” The line was silent for a few seconds.

“Why the fuck would you do that, you idiot? Are you kidding me?” Colson scoffs. “Man, what the fuck?”

“Shut up, man. I can’t stand talking on the phone with her. I’m busy, she’s busy, she plays a superhero for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even expect it to last this long to be honest.”

“Man, you fucking dumbass. That girl was probably the only good thing you had going for you. Get her the fuck back.I thought you loved her.”

“I did-I do. I do love her. I’m just so stressed right now, and excuse me for not wanting to hear about fucking Kevin Feige being a shitty director.”

“Hey, fuck-shit, you ever think that maybe this is more hard on her? Acting is fucking hard, you should know that, especially for a company like Marvel.

“Man, who’s side are you on?” Pete turns into the parking lot, and grabs his phone.

“You think I’m on your side here? You’re forgetting that we were friends before I met you. I can not believe you just fucked up the best thing in your life. Fix it, man. You’re going home in a week, fucking fix it.” And with that, Colson hung up, and put his phone away.

He kicked a rock across the pavement, and cursed under his breathe.

********

The worst thing about breaking up with someone you live with, who so happens to be long-distance is that their stuff fills the apartment with an existential amount of regret.

Y/n laid on her couch, flipping through the channels of the TV. She had called off work for the next few days, not feeling up to put on a performance for anyone. She knew she would get shit for it later, but she didn’t care.

Her head perked up when there was a knock on the door. She sighed, and got up, going over to the door. She really didn’t feel like company at the moment, and was sure she was going to send away whoever it was.

When she opened the door, her breathe caught in her throat. Pete stood in the doorway, looming over her. He looked like shit. She could tell he hadn’t slept, and probably didn’t eat anything, but she knew he didn’t look much better.

“Why-why didn’t you use your key?” Y/n asks, opening the door a bit for him.

“I uh, didn’t want to barge in on you. You also probably weren’t expecting me.”

“I wasn’t. I thought you didn’t get back until next week.” She says. It took every ounce of her not to jump into his arms, and kiss his face until she was sure she kissed every part of it.

“I took off early. Can we talk? Please. I was a dick. I was such a dick. I’m sorry, I know we grew apart in the last few months, and I promised we wouldn’t but we did, and I’m so sorry for that, baby.” He grabs her hand, and she slightly pulls it back, but let’s him grab it. “Please, forgive me. I love you, so much, okay? So fucking much, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she looked away from him. “What you said really hurt.”

“I know. And I’ll spend every day trying to make it up to you.” She quickly wrapped her arms around him, pushing her face into his chest. He didn’t hesitate to hug her back, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Fuck traveling.”

“Fuck traveling.”

.

[multifandom-girlie]

𝐅𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞

Imagine: Your parents think your bringing home a boyfriend for Christmas but you don't have one, so you ask someone really nicely to be your fake boyfriend.

Pairings: Human!Klaus x Human!Reader

Warnings: none.

Words: 1895

I was just walking out of Mikaelson Enterprises- where I work as Klaus Mikaelson’s assistant. When I get a call. I look down at the screen and notice an image of my mother pop up. Great. Just what I need after a long day of work. I decided to pick up the phone otherwise she will just hound me.

“Hey Mama. What’s up ?”

“Hello Sweetheart, I just wanted to make sure you were still driving down tomorrow and ask how you are ?”

Crap. I forgot I was meant to be driving home tomorrow.

“Uh yeah, I’m still coming down. Also I’m good, how is everyone ?”

“Good apart from you brother, he got into a fight on his last day of school.”

“Mama, don’t go to hard on him you know he’s having a difficult time at the minute with Dad. I’ll talk to him when I get there.”

“Okay I won’t. Anyway I’m excited to meet this new boyfriend of yours.”

“Uh what are you talking about Mama ?”

“Well you promised you were going to bring your boyfriend home this year so that we could all meet him.”

Shit. When did I say that. Damn my mother for having a good memory at such an old age. What am I going to do ? I could say we broke up….but that would break her heart. Fine. She wants a boyfriend of mine, then she’ll get one.

“Yeah sorry Mama, it must of just flew past me just a moment ago. I’ve had a really long day at work and not much sleep.”

“Are you sure your okay to drive down ?”

“Yeah I'm sure. I gotta go Mama, I love you.”

“I love you, Sweetheart.”

I ended the phone call and stood there debating with myself where to find a boyfriend within the 19 hours before I have to leave. Bearing in mind, I still need to cater to my own needs first like sleep, food and most certainly hygiene. The problem is I can’t just go out on a date and invite him to my parents house. Preferably it needs to be someone that I already know and who doesn't have plans. I’m screwed. I know that everyone I know has plans for christmas. The only person that wasn’t was my boss, but that is in all ways wrong. Even if we have hooked up a couple of times. That’s it, if I promise to sleep with him hopefully he’ll do this for me. God forbid something goes wrong.

I walked back into Mikaelson Enterprises and passed Camille, the receptionist with a big fake smile. She’s hated me ever since she found out I got assistant to Klaus and not her but truthfully it’s because she’s too ditzy and clingy too Klaus, since she has the fattest crush on him but moving on. I got out the elevator, once it reached the top floor where Klaus was. I headed to his door and knocked.

“Come in.”

I opened the door and he looked up from his paperwork with a confused look on his face.

“I thought you’d left Miss Y/L/N.”

“Yeah I did, but my Mom called and reminded me about something. Which is actually why I’m here. Could you please please be my fake boyfriend for the week.”

He looked at me and chuckled. He stood up from his chair and leaned on the front of his desk, just in front of where I was seated.

“Your fake boyfriend for a week ? For what ?”

“Christmas.”

“Where ? Why ?”

“My hometown. Also it’s because my mom thinks I’m bringing home a boyfriend and she’s going to be so disappointed when I don’t bring anyone back.”

“What do I get out of it ?”

“What do you want ?”

“I want to take you out on an actual date afterwards.”

Woah this just went down an unexpected pathway.

“What ? You want to take me out ?”

“Is there a problem with that ?”

“No ! There’s no problem, unexpected is all.”

“Right okay then, I’ll arrive at yours with my belongings tomorrow morning at 9am.”

“Perfect. I’m leaving at 10am.”

I smiled at him and walked out, surprised by what had just happened. Nevertheless, I got home ate my dinner, showered and went to bed.

When I got up the next morning, I brushed my teeth got some coffee and put my bags in the car. Once I was ready I looked at the time, 8:59 am. I heard a knock on the door and thought it as weird that it could be Klaus since it had only just turned 9am. Weirdo. As soon as I opened the door, I led him to my car and drove off just after he had secured himself in.

______________________________________________________________

13 Hours Later

Luckily Klaus was asleep for the most of it, so I just listened to my music and drove. He woke up with around an hour left on the drive, so we actually had a nice normal conversation. As soon as I pulled up outside the house, my mom and dad were stood outside waiting for me. I got out the car and ran to my dad, who has his arms wide open for me. I jumped into his arms and he held me very tightly and kisses my head. I giggled when he spun me around.

“Hi Daddy, I missed you so much.”

“We all missed you so much more sweetheart.”

I pulled away from my dad and pulled my mom in for a tight hug.

“Hi Mama.”

“Welcome home baby ! Now where is he ?!”

“Oh right.”

I ran over to Klaus, grabbed his hand and quickly whispered in his ear.

“Follow my lead okay.”

He nodded and I held his hand and walked over towards them. We stopped in front of them and my mom couldn’t stop smiling, my dad however didn’t look massively impressed.

“Mom, Dad… this is Klaus Mikaelson. My boyfriend.”

“Mikaelson as in Mikael and Esther Mikaelson ?!”

I looked at my dad confused as he said that, how would he know his parents already when me and Klaus weren’t actually dating. I haven’t even met them and they are the owners of the company I work for.

“Uh yes sir.”

“Dad, how’d you know that ?”

“Me and Mikael don’t get along very well that’s all.”

“Right, well it’s Christmas Eve and it’s getting late already Y/N you’ve been driving so long, why don’t you and Klaus go and unpack in your room and then come down and see everyone to drink some hot cocoa and watch films.”

“Okay Mama.”

I took Klaus in and was immediately bombarded by my youngest niece, Skylar.

“Hey Sky, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too Auntie Y/N, who is this ?”

“Sky, why don’t you give us 5 minutes and then I will come down and tell everyone okay ?”

“Okay Zia.”

I smiled at her, loving the fact she’s started to embrace her Italian side now than pushing it away.

“So that’s why I don’t understand you when your mad sometimes ?”

“What do you mean, Klaus ?”

“I mean, you speak Italian when you get mad.”

“Oh right, yeah I try not to but it’s just natural.”

“So your fluent ?”

“Oh yeah my whole family is, I was actually born in Italy but we moved here when I was 2 for my Dad’s work, since he used to work in the army.”

“That’s quite cool.”

“Thankyou.”

We headed to my room and I started to unpack until I saw him just standing at my door, not doing anything.

“You know you can unpack if you want, I’ll leave you 2 drawers. There’s not much room elsewhere in the house with everyone here. So your gonna have to stay with me.”

“Okay.”

When we finished unpacking, we headed downstairs so I could introduce everyone to Klaus and reunite with my family.

“Hey everybody !”

Everyone turned around with massive grins and I managed to get around and hug everyone.

“Before we go any further, everyone this is my boyfriend Klaus Mikaelson.”

“As in Elijah ?”

What the hell is with my family knowing everyone but him in his family.

“Okay wait, your the second person to mention another one of his family members. Who else knows any Mikaelsons ?”

Three of the eleven-excluding myself and Klaus- raised their hands. My younger sister, my father, my younger brother and my sister’s boyfriend. Eventually, we found out Camilla had slept with his older brother Elijah, my father we already knew had met his parents, Christian used to be friends with Klaus’ younger brother Kol and Blaine used to date Rebekah and while back.

We eventually got over that and sat down as it was late already to watch a film and drink hot cocoa, I felt bad about leaving Klaus isolated from everyone even if Skylar was fussing over him. So I sat next to him on the couch and put a blanket over us before the film started and Skylar relaxed on the other side of me, hugging my side.

Twenty minutes into the film, my nerves from sitting next to Klaus watching films and drinking hot cocoa with my family lessened and I relaxed a bit more. That was until, Klaus put his arm on the back of the sofa and I started to fall asleep-causing me to fall into his side. When my head hit his chest, my eyes opened immediately almost as if they never closed in the first place.

“Sorry, I’m so tired.”

He chuckled and rested his hand on the side of my head bringing it back to his chest.

“It’s fine, it’s what couples do…also you have been driving all day. If you fall asleep, I promise I will take you to bed.”

I looked into his eyes and smiled before I pushed the boundaries I had made in my head and wrapped my arm around his stomach. My fingers brushed against the warm skin on his stomach as his sweatshirt had rode up a bit. I blushed very much and I’m return I felt a chuckled vibrate on my cheeks and Klaus’ hand rest on my hip as my shirt had rode up a little too. I looked up at him and without even taking any thinking time his hand gently but quickly pulled my lips closer to his and pressed them against mine. We made out for a few minutes before pulling away.

“There’s nothing weirder than making out with your boss whilst my 9yr old niece is staring at us.”

We chuckled and looked at her and she immediately averted her eyes.

“I don’t care who’s watching, I’ve wanted to do that for years.”

“Seriously ? Why haven’t you ?”

“I can’t make a spectacle in the workplace.”

“Your such a twat, Thank You for doing this. Your making it hard for me to say no to that date you asked me on. Unless you promise me that is not the last time you kiss me like that because…wow.”

He chuckled and kissed me again. I can quite easily say that I do not regret lying to my mom for once in my life. If it wasn’t for me lying, I wouldn’t have got this opportunity.

MASTERLIST

[cocochannel00]

Quarantine Date

Boyfriend!Harry plans a date in the era of social distancing...

A big PSA to all of my lovely followers: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WEAR A MASK AND SOCIAL DISTANCE WHEN IN PUBLIC. DON’T PUT YOURSELF AND OTHER PEOPLE AT RISK

Harry knew how important your work was to you. You were an essential worker during the COVID pandemic and had been working rigours 12+ hour shift at the hospital. You had barely seen or talked to Harry over the last couple of months, mainly because he had been locked down in LA for the first half of quarantine and you had been basically living in the hospital lounge. You had been dating Harry for almost a year now so you knew what it was like to have him far away, but this time it felt different. This time all you wanted to was spend your day off curled up in bed with Harry and watch as he tried to imitate Heath Ledger's accent in 10 Things I Hate About You instead of watching it by yourself. I guess you’d just have to spend the day wallowing in self pity with your tub of ice cream. 

You were half way through your movie when your phone rang. Too lazy to look at who’s calling to picked up the phone and spoke a quick hello.

“You. Me. Date tonight. No excuses” the person said through the phone.

“Why Tom Holland I’m flattered, but I’m sorry, I have a boyfriend already” you replied back as a joke.

“Ha ha very funny (y/n) and besides I know you don’t have Tom’s number yet. But seriously, I’ve been home nearly a week and I haven’t seen you in person.” Harry spoke.

“Haz, 4 patients on my floor tested positive for COVID this week. I don’t want to expose you or god forbid Anne or Gemma to it”

“We can do a social distance date, I’ll plan the whole thing,” Harry practically begged.

“Harry I don’t know...” you stated with a sigh.

“I know today is your day off and you’re probably curled up in bed with some ice cream right now so hear me out. You stay in your room and relax for the rest of the day and I’ll spend the day planning our date tonight. Please, love, I really want to see you even if it’s six feet apart and with a mask” Harry pleaded.

“Ok ok fine I’ll go on a social distancing date with you but only if you promise to stay 6 ft away” you said sternly.

“I’ll bring a measuring tape so you can double check” he replied as you laughed.

“Wonderful, I can’t wait. Do I need to wear something special to this date tonight?” You asked curiously.

“That’s a surprise for later”

“Harold you know I hate surprises” you whined over the phone.

“I know that’s why I love them. Now I need to go, I have lots of planning to do for tonight. Love you”

“Love you too, H. See you tonight” you replied before hanging up the phone.

You were excited yet nervous to see Harry in person. Seeing his face through zoom was one thing but seeming all of him in person without being able to run up and hug him could very well crush you on the spot. All you knew for sure was that thinking about this date was take up your entire day. You weren’t one for grand cheesy gestures and you hated being the center of attention so you prayed that Harry didn’t go overboard on the whole evening.

You groaned quietly as you rolled over the the other side of your bed (usually Harry’s side) and checked the alarm clock to see it was only 5 pm so you had at least another 3 hours of wallowing in self pity until Harry came back. For once you just wanted the clock to move faster. Sinking back down into your sheets you ran a hand through your wet hair from your morning shower. You knew you should have brushed it earlier so that it didn’t frizz , but you hadn’t been expecting company and you didn’t really care what you looked like under all your PPE at the hospital. Just as you were beginning to detangle your hair you got a message from Harry.

Harry: Wear pajamas tonight, we’re going extra comfy. Love you - H

You smiled at the message and placed the phone back onto your lap. Nothing could ever put a smile on your face faster than Harry’s name popping up on your screen. Back when you first started dating and you had been stressed about going back to work after visiting him on tour he would send you pictures of puppies every morning just to cheer you up. Now he’s resorted to other much less innocent tactics to try and cheer you up when you’re have a bad day, but you couldn’t complain (especially during quarantine). With all that said, Harry continues to surprise you daily so to say you were excited for your date night would be an understatement. The only thing getting you through the wait was knowing you needed to take at least a 2 hour nap before he got there otherwise you would pass out during your date tonight.

——————— /// ——————— // ——————-

You woke up to the sound of “Kiwi” blasting in your ear as the timer you had set went off. Carefully, you untangled yourself from your excessively long phone charger before check the time and realizing you only had ten minutes to get ready. How many times had you pressed snooze in your sleep? You were in too much of a rush to figure it out as you raced to your closet to put on a comfy pair of pajama shorts and an old college t shirt. Even though Harry said it was going to be casual you decided to still go through the effort of putting on a bit of concealer and foundation to try and cover up the bags under your eyes. You were just rubbing in your moisturizer when you got another text from Harry.

Harry: I’m downstairs, don’t look out your window. Come to the backyard when you’re ready because our date night is about to begin. - H 

You grinned widely at the message and quickly finished putting on the rest of your make-up while also running a brush through your hair. Your hair had definitely had better days but it was too late to do anything besides put your hair in a bun to try and keep the frizz down with the growing humidity. With one last look in the mirror, you went downstairs to go meet Harry.

You carefully made your way to the door and grabbed one of your cloth masks off of the counter before putting it on and opening the door to your backyard. Your porch had been covered in fairy lights and two mountains of pillows had been placed on opposite sides of the backyard. In the middle their stood a giant sheet with a projector set up underneath it. It looked like something out of a rom-com and you were shocked that Harry was able to set all of this up without you knowing. Just as you were about to call out Harry’s name you saw him walk in through the back door with a mask on, a bottle of wine in his hands. He was wearing one of your favorite striped shirts that you said made him look like Where’s Waldo’s cousin. 

“I know it’s not exactly how I would have liked to see you on our first date in months, but I made sure to measure out the 1 meter (6 feet) for the cushions” Harry stated as he placed the bottle of wine down on a table next to a box of pizza. 

Your eyes began to water at the sight of him in front of you. It had been so long since you had seen him in person and so much had happened in your life in the last couple months that all you wanted to do was run up and wrap your arms around him. You impulsively put your arms out and took a couple of steps forward before you remembered that you couldn’t touch him and put your hands down. A tear fell down your cheek just as Harry looked up from the bottle he was attempting to open.

“Y/n what’s wrong love. Did I do something wrong?” He asked cautiously as you shook your head.

“Just missed you a lot. Wanted to give you a hug, but I don’t want to risk it” you replied softly as you took off your mask and wiped the stray tears from your face. 

Harry slowly took off his mask and gave you a sympathetic smile, “Wish I could run up and hug you too, love. Missed you so much these past couple of weeks. Thought I was going to go crazy with Jeff and all that baking in LA”.

You chuckled softly at his efforts of lightening the mood before scrunching your nose the extensive facial hair you didn’t remember seeing before.

“When did you grow that fuzz ball on your face?” you questioned sarcastically as you made your way over to one of the pillow piles. 

Harry scoffed at your remark and ran his hand across his face, “Excuse me miss [y/l/n] but this has taken me nearly four months to grow and I’d say it is much more than just a fuzz ball” 

“You’re right Har, you definitely grew it out to pornstar level. Proud of you baby” you said with a giggle as Harry glared at you. 

“I did not come here to get harassed about my new look” Harry grumbled jokingly as he gave you his cheshire smile. 

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make fun of your tremendous accomplishments. Thank you by the way, for putting all of this together. This was really sweet. Oh my god, stop, is this your fuzzy sweater” You said with a squeal as you put on his multicolored cardigan he had placed on top of a blanket. You inhaled the smell of his Tom Ford cologne and smiled.

“I figured since I can’t give you a hug yet, you could wear that” he replied back as he carefully opened the box of pizza he had placed on a small table in the middle of the porch. 

You moaned softly as you stared at the pizza just a few feet away from you. 

“Why have I never heard you moan like that for me in bed?” Harry joked as you glared at him.

“That was my foodgasm moan. You know damn well I don’t keep quiet with you so I don’t want to hear any complaints. Now, give me two slices of that delicious pizza please” 

Harry laughed at your response as he placed his mask back on and put on some hand sanitizer before placing two piece of pizza on a plate and pouring you a glass of wine. He walked over to you carefully and placed the food and the glass on a tray next to you that you hadn’t seen. You thanked him before placing the tray in your lap and taking a sip of your wine. Harry began to grab himself a slice when you shouted his name and took out your phone. 

“Wait I want to get a picture of you in person. I can’t keep stalking your fans’ accounts to get pictures of you.” you mumbled as you tapped on your camera. 

Harry nodded grudgingly before he took off his mask and began posing with the bottle of wine. 

“I think I could be one of those influencers” he joked as he nearly spilled the wine onto his shirt. 

“I think maybe we should leave that to the pros” you replied jokingly as you curled up into your pillow fort and began munching on your food. 

Harry sat down in the the pillow fort adjacent to yours on your porch. The two of you talked as you ate and tried to catch each other up on anything that you had missed on your various facetime calls. It was nice to be able to see him in person and know that he was okay. You had been so worried he would catch it while in LA and even though he wasn’t in one of the high risk categories you had witnessed several health people die of the disease and you didn’t even want to think about Harry in that situation. After you had both finished your meals Harry decided to put on “10 Things I Hate About You” and proceed to jump up next to the sheet you guys were using for a screen and act out the entire bleacher serenade live. 

You could not keep the smile off of your face that night. Harry had this way of making you forget all of your problems when you were with him and you were grateful to have found someone as caring as him. 

“ I love you H, thank you for a wonderful night” you whispered as the credits rolled onto the screen. 

“Anything for you love. Glad I got to see for a bit even if you did fall asleep on me halfway through the movie.” He replied back with a grin.

“It wasn’t my fault! You made my pillow fort to cozy, how could I resist a cat nap?” you stated as you smiled at him.

“Can’t blame you for it. Got a couple of cute pictures of you sleeping for my lock screen though.” He replied with a smirk as you groaned.

“Harry I was definitely drooling, you need to delete those” you said as Harry shook his head. 

“Can’t do that. Got to show mom our lovely date night”

“Fine, but no one else sees that picture besides Anne. I can’t have Mitch and Jeff teasing me everytime I see them like with the whole ketchup fiasco.” you mumbled as you began to fold the blanket you had wrapped around your body during the movie. 

“Leave everything there love, you need to go get some sleep before your shift tomorrow. I’ll clean all of this up, you just head inside for me” Harry stated as he turned off the projector and began taking down the sheet. 

“Are you sure?” you asked hesitantly. 

‘Yes, love, you need your rest. Go, come on. I can’t have you falling asleep while taking care of your patients.” Harry replied.

You hesitated for a minute before buttoning up the sweater Harry had given you and putting your mask back on. 

“I don’t want to leave here without giving you a hug” you stated softly as Harry looked at you with a small smile.

“(Y/n) if you want a hug all you have to do is ask, would have given you one the minute I got here. Let me grab my mask.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with this? I got tested two days ago for COVID and the last 6 have been negative but I don’t get the results till tomorrow and I don’t want you to get ill” you replied with a hesitant look. 

“Love I think with all of the hand washing and the masks we’ll be okay, but I’ll only give you one if you want it” he said as he put on his mask and adjusted the nose wire. 

“I want one” you said as Harry opened his arms up for you.

You practically jumped into his arms and nearly started sobbing from the first really physical contact you’ve had with anybody in weeks.

“God I love you so much (Y/n)” Harry stated as he tugged you closer and placed a kiss on your temple through his mask.

“I love you too H” you replied back as you closed your eyes tight and tried to hold on as long as possible.

“Good now come on, get to bed so you’re well rested for tomorrow. I’ll come back tomorrow night with some dinner after your shift so we can eat together again. Would that be ok?” he asked as he placed his hands on your hips.

“That would be lovely. I get off at 8 tomorrow”

“I’ll be waiting for you here, don’t worry” Harry stated. 

“Ok, I’ll go. I love you” you replied as you carefully untangled yourself from Harry and slowly made your way inside.

“I love you too. good night Haz” 

“Night love, see you tomorrow”

———————————————————————

@thereal(y/n) Someone tell my boyfriend that he’s not cool enough to be sponsored by this amazing wine

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Masterlist

[whorderofthepheonix]

Yes, Sir: Part 1 of ? || Ransom Drysdale // Knives Out

A/N: I’ve missed writing for you guys! I hope you guys enjoy this! If you haven’t seen Knives Out, you can totally still read this. It doesn’t have any spoilers! (Except maybe character descriptions, but that’s it). (TAG LIST IS OPEN!) YOU MUST AGREE TO REBLOG W/ COMMENTS TO CONTINUE TO BE ON THE TAGLIST! NO EXCEPTION

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: (18+) Angst (Ransom’s a fucking asshole), Smut (Fingering, oral, etc), Classism, Swearing, Humiliation

IF YOU ENJOY MY WORK, PLEASE REBLOG WITH FEEDBACK! IT’S VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!

Raquel’s POV

(Set a year before the events Knives Out)

Harlan Thrombey is the kindest employer I’ve ever had. Scratch that. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met. He was respectful, fun, and he’s incredibly generous. A few years back, I was simply looking for a part-time cleaning job to help pay for college, and when I met Harlan, not only did he hire me as one of his housekeepers, he paid off my student debt ENTIRELY. I wasn’t very close to my own family so Harlan and the other people who worked at the mansion were my new family. It was always kind, loving, and fun to go to work everyday.

Except when his family would visit.

A small percentage of the Thrombey clan treated me like a human being. I didn’t wanna say they were racist but... They were extremely racially insensitive. Especially to me and Harlan’s nurse Marta. I once got dragged into a very uncomfortable discussion about being black in America which Richard Drysdale, Harlan’s son-in-law, swore he was an expert in. I bit my tongue as Richard and Walt Thrombey insisted that “nigga” was just a word and that everyone should be able to say it...

Okay. They were racist as fuck.

But believe it or not, I’d rather deal with their racial ignorance than deal with Richard and Linda’s son, Ransom. Well to me, he was Hugh, because he ordered “The Help” to call him Hugh. Lord help any staff who called him Ransom to his face. The gardener, Luiz, did once and Ransom went berserk on him. He had him fired and I believe he tried to have him deported. I shook the memory out of my head and continued dusting. The Thrombreys were coming to the mansion tonight to celebrate Linda’s biggest sale to date. They’ll think of any reason to throw a party at the estate. According to the guest list, the entire family was to be in attendance. Ransom included. They were gonna be here any moment. I had cleaned the bedrooms twice (Ransom’s 3 times), swept, mopped, and vacuumed every room, and even polished the doorknobs. I was praying that the first set of guests would be tolerable ones-

“Hello, hello!” Joni Thrombey, Harlan’s Daughter-In-Law, called as she entered the house with bags galore.

“Miss Joni,” I smiled. “Welcome! May I take your bags up to your room?”

“Thank you so much, Raquel, and please just call me Joni” she handed me her bags. “Please be careful! My dress is from Armani! Just hang it up in the closet.” I nodded and lugged her bags up to the second floor. Once her dress was in the closet, I started to unpack her bag as the door opened up again. Meg Thrombey, Joni’s daughter and Harlan’s Granddaughter walked in, happily. We actually attended the same college and were best friends, even though she’s a couple years younger than I am. She’s the one who got me this job.

“Meg!” I gushed hugging her tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Rocky! I’ve missed you!” She smiled. “Emerson is so boring without you!”

“Sometimes, I miss it,” I frowned. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful to have this amazing job! I just wish I could do more.”

“I totally understand that! Listen, the old gang wants to hang out later tonight. Wanna join us? We’re headed down to the pier.”

“That would be amazing!” I squealed. “As soon as I’m done working-”

“Um, HELLO?” Linda Thrombey’s voice called from the first floor. “Where are the housekeepers? Can someone please get my bags?!”

“Shit,” I whispered. I dashed out the room and down the stairs. “Miss Linda, hi. I’m so sorry. I was just unpacking Miss Joni’s things-”

“Oh, heaven forbid you help my dad’s actual daughter!” She rolled her eyes. “Let’s not forget, this party is for me!”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again,” I reassured her. Linda walked into her and Richard’s bedroom, which was located on the first floor. Richard walked into the house seconds later.

“I apologize Rachel,” he sighed. ‘Raquel’ I corrected in my mind. “She’s under immense pressure from this deal. I’m sure she’ll lighten up.”

“It’s really okay, Mr. Drysdale,” I insisted. “It was my fault.” I take his bags and well and bring them into the bedroom. Linda was smoking a cigarette and yelling at someone over the phone. Harlan knew his children smoked but he never allowed it indoors. But considering that Linda was being a bitch right now, I decided to leave it alone. As I unpacked their things, I heard the sounds of Walter and his family arrive. Fran, the other housekeeper, must’ve been helping them since I heard them go upstairs without complaint. When I was done, I stood in the doorway ready to go.

“Is there anything else you need, Miss?” I asked.

“Yes, bring me a scotch on the rocks,” she said without looking up from her phone. I nodded and went out to the bar. As I was making her drink, the familiar sound of tires screeching came from outside the house. Fran ran over to me.

“Not it,” she whispered before running into the kitchen. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for what was about to happen. Ransom Drysdale walked into the mansion, sunglasses on, leather duffle bag in one hand, his phone in the other.

“Where the hell is The Help?” He hissed walking into the parlour. He spotted me and strutted over. “Hey, Maid!” He called. I placed Linda’s drink on a tray and looked at him.

“Hugh,” I said blandly.

“I’ve been here for 15 seconds and you haven’t taken my bags,” he hissed.

“I’m not sure if you noticed but I’m doing something- Hey!” I protested as he took the scotch off the tray and sipped it. “That was for your mother...”

“Well, it looks like it’s for me now,” he smirked and threw his jacket me. I pulled it off my face and threw it to the floor. He sat in an armchair and watched me as I made Linda another drink. “Your ass looks great by the way. Those leggings are working well for you.”

“Your grandfather told you you’re not allowed to say things like that to us, anymore,” I reminded him. “It’s sexual harassment.”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want,” he laughed. “What’re you gonna do? Sue me?” Just then, Linda entered the parlour.

“Jesus, Rachel! How long does it take to pour a scotch?” She groaned. Then she saw Ransom sitting and her whole demeanor changed. “Ransom! My baby! How are you?” She peppered his face with kisses.

“I’d be a lot better if Grandad hired decent Help,” he rolled his eyes. “She was just standing at the bar when I got in. Didn’t greet me or anything.”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” she frowned. “She had your father and I waiting at the door as well, don’t take it personally.” Then she walked over to me and hissed, “You owe Ransom an apology! He shouldn’t have to deal with this while visiting his family!” She snatched her new drink from the bar and noticed his coat on the floor. She picked it up and shoved it into my hands. “And hang this up!” I took a deep breath and bit the insides of my cheeks.

“Hugh, I apologize for keeping you waiting,” I said through my teeth. “It won’t happen again.” He smirked as I picked up his duffle and carried it up to his room. He didn’t actually have a room here so he was just occupping one of the many guest rooms... The biggest guest room in fact. It was originally his parents’ room but he made the trade. I unpacked his bags and made sure everything was perfect as he came in the room. He looked around, nodding.

“Looks good. Now get the hell out, I’m gonna shower,” he ordered. “Unless you care to join me.” I desperately wanted to tell him to eat shit, but I swallowed my pride and left the room.

***

As Fran and I set up the decorations, Marta came downstairs, looking uneasy.

“You okay, Marta?” I asked.

“Um, Hugh is upstairs asking for the maid,” she told us. “He says come now.”

“Fine,” Fran frowned. “Raquel, you dealt with him earlier so I’ll-”

“He says... He says he wants the Black Maid,” Marta whispered. I sighed and stopped folding napkins.

“I’ll be back,” I sighed. “Hopefully, I won’t be too long.” I went up to Ransom’s room and knocked on the door. “Mr. Hugh?”

“Come in,” he told me. I opened the door and looked at him. He was only in a towel sitting on his bed and looking through his phone. He didn’t look up as I entered. “Why are you just standing around? The bathroom needs to be cleaned again. Hurry up.” I opened the bathroom door and sure enough, he had destroyed it. All the towels were used and thrown on the floor, the floor was soaked, and the garbage turned over. I sighed and got to work. God he was such an asshole... He was definitely doing this on purpose. Ever since I got hired, Ransom wanted to make sure I knew my place... Which was below him. I was mopping up the water when I heard grunting coming from the other side of the door. I cracked it open and looked out. I pulled my head back in quickly when I saw what it was... Or was it? To double check, I peeked out again and confirmed what I had seen. Yup. I was right.

Ransom had dropped his towel and was facing the wall, jerking off. His back was to me and his hand was pressed against the wall, keeping him upright. I couldn’t see what he was working with, if you know what I mean, but I didn’t want to get caught watching my boss’ grandson masturbate. I went back into the bathroom and finished up, so I could leave without him knowing. I was almost to the bedroom door when-

“Wait,” Ransom grunted. I turned around. He was still holding onto the wall for support. He muttered something under his breath then moaned loudly. He picked up his towel from the floor and wrapped it back around his hips. He walked over to me and smirked. “You missed a spot.” And he nudged his head in the direction of where he was standing. Sure enough, the content of his solo exploits was running down the wall and dripping onto the floor. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get to cleaning.”

“You’re such an asshole, Hugh,” I hissed.

“I know,” he shrugged. “I just like thinking of ways to embarrass you. But don’t act like you didn’t enjoy watching...” He winked at me. “Now hurry up-”

“No.” I hissed.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He asked stepping closer. “I don’t think I heard you correctly-”

“Then read my lips, you entitled prick!” I hissed. “I’m not fucking doing it! In case you’ve forgotten, you don’t live here, therefore, I don’t fucking work for you!” I threw him a rag and opened the door. “Clean it your fucking self!”

***

When the party actually started, I changed into the outfit Linda requested I wear. A button up blouse and a knee length skirt that she so kindly gave all of the Help. Linda was also in a better mood. My guess is, she remembered everyone was there to celebrate her and she would be the center of attention... Which she loves. I hadn’t seen Ransom since earlier. He was gonna arrive late, probably cause a scene, argue with Meg, then retreat to the guest room with one of the long legged blonde attendees. I was handing out hors d’oeuvres in the foyer when Ransom approached me.

“Go away, Hugh,” I said. “I’m working.”

“Relax. I came to apologize,” he sighed. I looked up at him confused. “I may have been... A bit obnoxious when I first got here. And what happened in the bedroom before... I crossed the line and I’m sorry.” I was shocked. Never, in the years that I’ve worked here, have I heard Ransom apologize!

“Oh... Wow. Thank you, Hugh,” I acknowledged him.

“Call me, Ransom,” he shrugged. “Just don’t let the other Help hear you.” I smiled slightly and nodded.

“I should go... I have to refill my tray,” I told him. “If you’ll excuse me-” He grabbed my arm and stepped closer to me.

“Did you like it?” He whispered.

“I’m sorry?”

“Watching me... Did you like it?” He repeated. I didn’t know how to answer... I never saw Ransom as someone I could be attracted to because his asshole personality would always cloud any other perception of him... But now that I think about it... He was sexy as fuck.

“I... I wasn’t watching you-”

“Don’t lie,” he smirked. He tilted my chin up and made me look into his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. “You liked it... Didn’t you?” My mouth was dry and my heart was racing. “Tell me you liked it...” I had to get out of there.

“I have to go,” I whispered, scurrying out of the foyer. I ran into the empty hall and took a deep breath. I leaned on the credenza for support. What was going on? This was Hugh! He’s a pig, he’s an asshat, he hates lower class people, he... Was coming this way. I made it look like I was busy doing something as he approached me. “Ransom... Hugh. I need to keep working. So please just-” He pressed himself against me, making sure my butt was pressed against him. My breath hitch and I was panting softly. His fingers danced up and down my arms, sending tingles all throughout my body.

“Why are you running from the truth?” He asked, leaning in close to my ear. “You’re so fucking sexy... Just the thought of you watching me...” He pulled me closer to him and pressed his erection against my butt. “Makes me so hard...” I grabbed onto the fabric that laid across the credenza, breathing harder. It was like my body was betraying me. I clenched my thighs together trying to release the aching in between my legs. Ransom noticed and ran his hand up my leg. “Uh-uh. Let me help you with that...” He spread my legs and traced my inner thighs lightly. His other arm, wrapped around my shoulders and his fingers lingered on the base of my throat. As he caressed my thighs, his fingers kept brushing against my core. I bit my lip to stop from moaning out. It had been a while since I’ve been... Intimate with another person. My body was extremely sensitive to his touch. So sensitive in fact, that when he slipped his hand down into my skirt and past my panties, I nearly lost it. I grabbed his wrist and moaned out loud. It’s like his ‘Dominate’ switch was activated when I did that because he had a loose grip on my throat, putting minimal pressure, and he pulled me fully back against his chest. “That’s a good girl...” He whispered in my ear. “Such a good girl...” I felt myself on the edge already. He wasn’t even doing much. Just rubbing me gently.

“Fuck,” I moaned, quietly. But footsteps coming from around the corner made Ransom pull his hand out my underwear and stand up straight. Linda came scurrying down the hall.

“Ransom, honey, there are some people I’d like you to meet,” she grinned.

“I’ll be right there,” he told her. “I just need to finish having a word with this one.” She turned around and went back into the parlour. He turned to me. “In an hour, go up to my room and wait for me... I’ll finish what I started. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” I nodded. He tilted my chin up.

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Ransom,” I agreed. He leaned in close.

“Next time. Call me Sir,” he whispered, before biting on my earlobe then disappearing around the corner.

***

I couldn’t keep a steady thought throughout the party. Ransom didn’t make eye contact with me the entire time. His eyes stayed glued to his phone, even when his mother was making a toast, whilst antagonizing Meg, and when Harlan came down to greet the family, he looked up for a second, then was back to his phone. I glanced at my watch. 10 minutes until the rendezvous and my heart was racing. To calm my nerves, I cruised around the parlour, collecting dirty dishes. Linda, Walt and Richard were having one of their “cultural” discussions and I knew I had made a mistake once I stepped into the room.

“Oh, Rachel!” Linda spoke. ‘Raquel’ I corrected in my mind. “I’m so sorry about how I acted earlier! I wasn’t feeling like myself and I truly apologize.”

“It’s truly no problem, ma’am,” I smiled weakly. I picked up the dishes and tried to leave the room.

“Rachel, a moment?” Richard called. I took a deep breath and turned back around. “How old were you when you first came to this country?”

“Excuse me?” I gasped. I was used to the microaggressions like Joni asking me where I got my lips done or asking to touch my hair, but THIS SHIT was going to far! “‘When did I come to this country?!’” By now everyone in the room, including Ransom were looking in our direction.

“I’m sorry... is it a touchy subject?” He asked. I put the dishes down and turned to him.

“I was born in Cambridge,” I told him. “And before you ask, my parents were born in New York City. What gave you the impression that I wasn’t born here?” ‘Besides the color of my skin.’ I wanted to add.

“Oh... my mistake,” Richard nodded. “I just thought that-”

“You thought wrong,” I sighed picking the dishes back up. As I walked out of the room, I noticed Ransom snickering from behind his phone. I knew my comment might cause some drama so I decided to get out of the party atmosphere and upstairs to Ransom’s room. I waited patiently and looked around. He kept it tidy. The wall was cleaned from earlier and his clothes were folded neatly on top of the dresser. I looked at my watch. Just a few more minutes until Ransom joined me upstairs. I’ll freshen up in the meantime. I walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding against my chest and I felt nervous. I splashed some water on my face and took several deep breaths. I heard shuffling coming from the other side of the door and I knew it was Ransom. I turned off the sink, dried my face, and went into the next room. He was adjusting something in his wardrobe when he noticed me. He walked over, smirking.

“You know, I said don’t draw attention to yourself,” he chuckled. “Telling my father off counts as drawing attention to yourself.”

“Sorry about that,” I nervously chuckled. “You dad is just... He’s a lot sometimes.”

“Trust me, I know. But enough about him. I think we were in the middle of something...” He bent down and kissed the nape of my neck, his hands roaming my body. I was moaning instantly. Being with Ransom made me feel dirty... But in a good way. I felt like a naughty girl hooking up with the bad boy next door. He was fondling my breasts and his knee kept my legs parted, rubbing against my vagina. He started to undo the buttons on my blouse when I had a sense of panic.

“Wait,” I gasped. He looked at me confused, still unbuttoning. “We shouldn’t do this... This is wrong-”

“Does it feel good?” He whispered, grinding me against his thigh. I moaned and nodded. “Then what’s the issue?” His hand went up my skirt and he pulled my panties down to my ankles. I don’t know why I was SO sensitive! The moment his fingers made contact with me, I grabbed onto him and moaned loudly. “Shit! You’re so fucking wet...” Ransom’s middle finger entered me while his thumb rubbed circles on my clit.

“God, yes!” I moaned. While his right hand worked wonders on me, his left hand finished undoing my top then began kneading my breast through my bra. “Fuck... I’m so close, Ransom...”

“No, not yet,” he told me.

“I can’t! Please don’t make-” He grabbed my face harshly and stared into my eyes.

“You better hold onto it, Raquel... I mean it. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered.

“Good girl,” he smirked. He removed both hands from my body, leaving me feeling empty. But then he dropped to his knees and helped me step out of my panties before hosting my leg over his shoulder and placing his tongue expertly on my core.

“Fuck!” I cried out. My fingers combed through his hair and my legs started quivering. While his right hand was holding my leg, his left hand slipped under my bra and pinched my nipple. “I’m gonna cum!” He pulled away from me and started using his fingers again.

“Beg me,” he looked up at me. “Beg me or I’ll stop. Say ‘Please, Sir, let me cum.’”

“Please, Sir, let me cum,” I repeated.

“Beg better. Say it again.”

“Please, Sir, let me cum.”

“Again!”

“Please, Sir, let me cum!” I begged.

“Tell me I’m the boss of you.”

“You’re the boss of me,” I panted.

“Tell me you work for me,” he told me. I snapped back into reality and looked down at him.

“What did you just say?” I asked. He stood up and grinned. He tilted my chin towards the opposite wall.

“Look into the camera and tell me you work for me,” he whispered. “Jacob?” The youngest of the Thrombey clan exited the wardrobe, his cell phone in hand. I jumped back and fumbled trying to close my blouse.

“What the fuck is going on?!” I gasped. Ransom took the phone from Jacob and glanced at the screen, smiling.

“Well, it looks to me like you’re getting your pussy eaten by your boss’ grandson,” he smirked, turning the screen to me. “I wonder what would happen if he saw this... She’d probably get fired, right Jacob?”

“I’d fire her,” Jacob nodded.

“Please don’t do this,” I pleaded, trying to fight back tears.

“Don’t you mean, ‘Please don’t do this, Sir?’” Jacob mocked, making them both laugh.

“So, by the looks of it, it seems like you do work for me, Maid,” he got in my face. “And I’d watch your step from now on. Wouldn’t wanna accidentally send this to Grandfather...” I couldn’t hold back anymore and I burst into tears. Ransom looked at me confused. “Are... Are you actually crying...?”

“Go fuck yourself, Hugh!” I cried. I stormed out of the room, buttoning my shirt, tears streaming down my face.

~~~

A/N: Lmaoooo what did you expect?? Ransom is an asshole in and out of the movie. But it gets smuttier so... Stay tuned 😈😈😈

Taglist: @uhlxis​ @melannie77​ @tanyam93​ @scootybobooty​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @phatthor1234​ @dreamxeyes​ @blackpantherimagines​ @emoniclark22 @thedescentintoinsanity @scarletxwinter​ @05spn18​ @iammeantformuchmore​ @forbeautyandlife (TAG LIST IS OPEN!) YOU MUST AGREE TO REBLOG W/ COMMENTS TO CONTINUE TO BE ON THE TAGLIST! NO EXCEPTIONS!

[jetsandbennie]

...and then we had both.

summary: following events of why can’t we have both. you and ben decide to try and make your relationship work.

warnings: smut (18+), dry humping, female receiving oral, unprotected sex, fluff, aaaannnnggggsssstttt

pairing: bodyguard!ben hardy x reader

( gif creds to the amazing @ bens-hardy )

When you wake up the next morning, Ben isn’t next to you. And this is weird because you swear you remember him falling asleep next to you, thrown overtop of him, a thick blanket he brought covering your bodies. But now he’s gone, and when you push yourself up onto your elbows and glance around the room - bright with the shine of the sun, showcasing every bit of dust on every surface - you can’t see him at all.

It’s only a bit panic inducing. After all, he’s your bodyguard and you know he wouldn’t leave, not at all or at the very least without some sort of note.

(And there is no note.)

The blanket falls down to expose your bare chest and the coldness attacks your skin, goosebumps popping up over every inch of exposed flesh, and you drop back onto the couch with a huff, pulling the blanket back up over you. God, the couch is unbearably soft and squishy and while it is undeniably better than the rock of a mattress you’d been on, it certainly isn’t the greatest. Your back aches and your neck burns and you’re still sleepy.

And panic is settling into your mind. There is still the death threat thing and you suppose that’s something to worry about, honestly, and you’d managed to get your mind off of it last night but without Ben here it’s entirely weighing down on you. It almost hurts, those thoughts pressing onto your brain, seeping its way into every one of your veins, and you stare at the ceiling - splattered with dark cracks - and you worry.

You would be rehearsing right now. Preparing for the concert you had to cancel and if that isn’t just a horrible thought in itself.

You hope everyone got their money back.

You hope they all got some free fucking merchandise in return for the emotional stress.

“Ben?” it’s stupid to call out in an empty house - you know this - but if there’s someone in the house and they’ve gotten Ben then they would have taken you out while you were asleep. Besides, there’s nobody in the house, of course, because Ben is strong and he could’ve taken anyone out.

But why doesn’t anyone respond?

“Ben?” you call again, and then you sit up again, hugging the blanket to your chest, and there still isn’t a reply.

Plenty of reasons for why that could be. Maybe he’s showering, even though there’s no water running. Maybe he’s outside on the deck - does this stupid house even have a deck? Maybe he’s asleep in the bedroom.

Maybe hard surfaces are better for his back. You don’t know.

Slowly you stand, clutching the soft blanket to your body. It drops low on you, nearly reaching your ankles, and you’re fairly confident every square inch of your body is safe and secure and covered. God forbid there’s someone in the house, and there isn’t, but you have to be sure.

Perfect. You set off down the hall towards the bedroom, diverting your eyes straight ahead of you, making sure you don’t trip on the entirely too large blanket. You peek into the hallway closet and then the bathroom, and then the bedroom, and they’re all empty.

You turn and make your way back down the hall. Now your heart is beating just the tiniest bit faster and you drag your palm along the wall, feeling the texture beneath your hand, clutching the blanket over your chest. The light fixture on the ceiling flickers pathetically, and it’s - on, and you’re certain all of the lights were on when you went to sleep last night because you almost definitely remember feeling completely content in the darkness. Resting on top of Ben, feeling his skin beneath yours even if you couldn’t see him. You remember that feeling of peace.

The light in the kitchen is on, too.

Fuck.

You press your back against the wall, contemplating what you should even do in this trying time. Because what if you die? What if Ben is lying, dead on the floor? You would never forgive yourself. You hired him, so you would be the reason he died. And that’s too much guilt for you to live with - too much entirely.

Time to be brave.

You push off the wall and turn so you’re staring into the kitchen, arms slackening as you see the sight. Not a murderer at all, thank Christ, but Ben in all his glory - sweatpants low on his hips, headphones firm over his ears, working over the stove. The stove that looks so old you’re surprised it even works, but as Ben scrapes his spatula against the pan you’re thankful it does.

“Are you fucking serious?” you question, watching as Ben turns around, eyebrows furrowed, and then he takes his headphones off. “I called you twice because I thought you were getting murdered, Benny. Come on.” Your eyes land on his headphones again and then the wire attaching them to his phone. “And you have a phone when I wasn’t allowed to.”

“I didn’t hear you, sweetheart,” Ben says, and you narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest the best you can. “And it’s a burner phone. Only good for music, really. I need it.”

“I need my phone, too.”

“No, you don’t.” Ben pauses and when you open your mouth to respond he cuts you off. “We’re going to be here for another five days. And I know it sucks but - I was expecting a couple of weeks.”

Five days. Two shows. It’s fucking horrible. You tug the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Is this a house arrest situation? Or can we do stuff?”

Ben rolls his eyes. You roll them right back. “We can do stuff but it’s best for us to stay here. Trust me, I’m not thrilled about it either. You’re hardly my first companion of choice in a situation like this.”

Perhaps with anyone else you’d be offended by it, but you could pick up on the teasing glint in Ben’s eyes from miles away. “That’s not the tune you were singing last night, I don’t think.”

“Oh, is that how you want to play this?” Ben takes a step toward you, and you take another to him, staring directly into his eyes. “Because I certainly remember you -”

You don’t let him finish, throwing your arms around his neck and attaching your lips. Desperate and passionate and perfect, and Ben wraps his arms around your waist to steady your body against his. The blanket unceremoniously falls down your body though his chest pressed against yours keeps it briefly held up - when your bodies part for even just a second it falls to a puddle on the ground.

Ben raises his eyebrows, hands squeezing your hips, scanning your body with barely masked surprise. Your body is cold but with his gaze you feel nearly warmed up and you give him a small twirl, showcasing the entirety of your nakedness to him. Watching his expression morph is wonderfully enjoyable and you stop in front of him, bracing your palms on his chest and gazing up at him with eyes - soft. Soft and sweet. Resembling some sort of feeling that others may define as love but you’re not sure how much you believe in that shit.

“Where are your clothes?” he questions, voice low, and a chill runs up your spine at his tone.

“I was too scared to change.”

“Ah.”

Ben’s hands trail down your hips to the backs of your thighs, and you lean up again to kiss him. “Benny,” you begin, voice sultry sweet. “We have four days here.”

“Five.”

“Whatever. How much do you want to bet that we can taint every square inch of this shitty little house?”

His lips turn up into a grin, fingers running through the ends of your entirely too messy curls. “$200, but I already know I’m going to owe it to you.”

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Sure enough, when you leave in five days’ time, there’s hardly a surface the pair of you haven’t fucked on.

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 Getting back into the groove of touring is something you love. Five days away from it wasn’t that much but it felt like an eternity even if you spent it with Ben, and now you have a limp, and you spend the majority of your days rehearsing and performing and taking pictures with fans in the moments you get to go out.

And something has already changed with Ben. You’d be lying if you said your relationship has returned to the brutal state it once was but it certainly isn’t as - sweet - as when you two were in the safehouse together. Because then you could trick yourself, maybe, into believing you and Ben were some sort of couple. Cooking breakfast, laughing at dinner, watching movies and kissing and fucking and sleeping on top of each other. It’s so couple-y.

Perhaps you’d read it wrong. You’ve never done that with anyone before, the whole dating thing, so maybe that was … not it. Maybe that was just a friends with benefits sort of situation or maybe Ben just didn’t want to pursue any sort of relationship with you.

It sucks. But you suppose you can understand, in the beginning, though after just about a week you’ve had enough of it again.

He walks you to your room in Tokyo after a show and while he’s fiddling for the keys to your room you bring it up. “Benny, do you like me?”

Ben pauses, hand froze in midair from where he’d begun to reach for the lock on the door, and then he says, “Of course.”

“You don’t act like it. I mean, I thought there was something going on between us.”

The tension in the air is thick as peanut butter, and your voices are oddly soft to try and not wake anyone else on this floor, and Ben shoves the key into the lock. “I’m your bodyguard, sweetheart.”

You snort, entirely unprofessional and the sort of thing your mother would call not lady-like but you don’t really care. “You were my bodyguard when we were on house arrest together, too. I mean, if you don’t like me then just tell me. I’d rather know outright.”

Which isn’t true. If he tells you he doesn’t like you like that then you really do believe you’ll throw yourself from a window.

But then he says, voice thick, “I do but - that was different. I feel - bad, I guess. I’m supposed to protect you.”

“You can protect me while we’re together.”

“Sweetheart …”

“Benny.”

You won’t give this up until he gives you a valid answer, and Ben opens your door with a small sigh. Is this conversation irritating to him? Well, god forbid you want some sort of clarity. You’re horrific at reading situations like this.

“Okay,” he begins, and your eyes widen just a bit. Is he going to agree? “I like you. You know that. And if you were anyone else -” he pauses. You nod, encouraging him to go on, but Ben takes his fucking time collecting himself and you’re ready to just go into your room and slam the door in his face when he speaks up again. “I feel shitty about what we did.”

“You shouldn’t. Come on, I liked it and you liked it and I thought there was something.”

“And there was.” Pause. “Is. But it shouldn’t happen while my main job is to protect you. I can get distracted.”

This doesn’t add up in your fucking head. “Wouldn’t it make you better at your job if we’re together? Because you’d be more determined to protect me, you know?”

Ben shoves the key back into his pocket and braces his hands on his hips, and when he looks up at you - God. He has ruined you, hasn’t he? Because he’s standing here, rejecting you, and all you want to do is pull him into your room and make your limp a little worse. “Sweetie -”

“Don’t call me that.”

It’s stupid because he’s called you that since before the two of you ever did anything but it just makes your anger and sadness and betrayal a thousand times worse. Sweetheart. Sweetie. Boyfriends call their girlfriends that and it’s only making everything so much harder to hear it from him now, in this situation.

He bites at his bottom lip and you take a step into your room, clutching the doorknob, waiting for the perfect moment to slam it in his face. It has to be perfect, absolutely perfect, the ideal dramatic moment. Then he says, “I don’t want something to happen to you because I’m distracted,” and your grip loosens on the cold knob.

You take a deep inhale, willing your breath to steady before you reply. “Ben. I wouldn’t want to be with you if I thought it would jeopardize my life. I mean - no offense - but being with you isn’t exactly worth that.”

Ben gives a humorless smile to the ground. “No, it isn’t worth that at all.”

“But that won’t happen. I’m not going to die or something because we’re together. Come on. If you want to and I want to then what’s the problem?”

It’s your last resort. If he turns you down one more time you swear you’ll stop trying, you’ll close the door and go to your bed and cry into your stupid pillow so he doesn’t hear you from the room next door. And tomorrow you’ll resume whatever remnants of a friendship you can pick up from this experience and life will go on, and you’ll meet someone else, and Ben will be but a distance memory of fierce longing and achingly good cock.

You’re planning your future without him as an option when Ben sighs and says, “We can give it a go.”

“What?”

“You. Me. We can give it a go, if you’d really like. I can’t guarantee it’ll work but we can try -”

Whatever else Ben wants to say is utterly lost as you throw yourself forward, arms around his neck and his palms at your back, and you’re kissing him so intensely - brutally - passionately. One leg hooks around his waist and he places his palm on the back of your thigh, keeping it up, kissing you back with every ounce of energy he’s got. It’s tongues fighting and teeth clashing, and when you pull away you can see bruising on his swollen lips from the intensity of it. You’re sure you’re sporting a familiar look, and you’d wear it every single day if it means Ben is yours.

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 But dating is weird.

You call him your boyfriend and it feels wonderful, just having him being your boyfriend, and you kiss and hold hands when there’s nobody around but when there is Ben drops his hand to his side, reverts his face back to the one he’s always sported, and there’s not a single headline speculating about the nature of your relationship.

He’s your bodyguard in public and your boyfriend in private and you think you’re fine with that. You’ve never done this before, not since getting famous and going on tours and becoming who you are and you aren’t sure how relationships are meant to work. Surely this is normal. A lot of your more famous friends have relationships that have never seen the light of the media, and when you tell them about Ben they advise you to keep it on the down low.

Which means to never tell anyone if you aren’t completely positive they’ll keep it hush-hush.

And … well … that’s not many people. So maybe Ben is your secret. And it’s a good secret, the best, with so many sub-secrets it could be like a tree. Branches extending off of it. There’s the way he likes to draw on your thigh when you sit in his lap and how he likes trying to run his fingers through your hair even if he knows he’ll never make it to your ends without a hassle. And there’s the way he always kisses your skin after biting it, and how he forces you to maintain eye contact while he’s lapping at your cunt.

Does anyone know him like this? Have you known anyone like this?

Surely Ben has his own secrets about you. The ones he wouldn’t tell you, the things he’s noticed. And thinking of that makes you warm and fuzzy inside, and sometimes when you look at him you just want him to wrap his arms around you and hold you and kiss you with the gentleness of a wave hitting the shore. Lapping at the sand, light, smooth.

And other times you want him to slam you against the wall so hard you see stars, lips sucking brutally dark hickeys into the column of your throat, knee digging into your cunt with desperate intensity. A tsunami crashing into a city.

It’s a sharp contrast.

Surely he feels some sort of similarity.

You appreciate this, mostly, the off moments. You’re curled up on his lap as the bus beneath you rumbles back to your hotel, your cheek against his chest, his hands folded on your thighs. And Ben’s finger traces circles and letters and numbers and complete gibberish into your skin, his breath warm against the side of your face. You’re pumped up on those post concert adrenaline rushes and Ben knows it, lets you bounce your leg against his, doesn’t try and stop you as you hum loudly.

And your tour feels like it’s quickly coming to a close, with three weeks left, and if that doesn’t suck.

“You’re all jittery, sweetheart,” Ben tells you, and your eyes meet his with a slightly guilty grin. “Are you alright?”

“Of course I’m alright,” you reply, and it’s the whole truth. “Rarely been better. I love performing, Benny, you know that? Gets me all excited. And now I have too much energy and I don’t know what to do with it.”

Instinctively you shift in his lap, throwing one leg over each side of his thighs until you’re straddling his waist, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek. You let it linger, lips against his skin, and then you trail it across his face until you’re kissing the corner of his mouth, dangerously close to your lips against his.

“I think you have a few ideas,” Ben says, and his eyes flit around the bus. Empty. In the back of the bus - where you and Ben generally took up residence - none of your crew ever joins you, opting for the front, and with just the right position the pair of you can shield yourself completely from view of any wandering eyes. “And I’d love to wear you out. But wouldn’t you want to wait until we get to the hotel?”

You contemplate for a moment. Generally you’d say yes but with every shift of your hips the growing bulge in his jeans rubs against your core and you don’t think you can wait. “No. No, Benny, I’ll be quiet, I promise. Need you now, though.”

He drops his head back against the seat when you place your palm over his boner, fingernails dragging against the denim, and a smirk spreads across your face. Hands work at the zipper on his jeans until you can pull his cock out - achingly hard and leaking at the tip already, God, how pretty - and Ben’s hands rest on your hips, pulling you down onto him. Your skirt - short, so short, and it’s cold and impractical but anything for the shows - hikes up onto your torso and your clothed clit rubs against his cock, slickness rubbing off onto your panties. It makes it all so much easier to ride him like this.

“Oh, God,” you mumble, grinding your hips against him, and Ben lets out a low strangled moan. You reach up and press a shaky palm against his mouth, his lips against your hand, and roll against him again. Hands tighten on your hips and you couldn’t recall this ever feeling so good and in fact you aren’t sure you’ve done this since you were a teenager - drunk and tight clothes, sweaty bodies and hair that was straightened every damn day just to make it easier for those boys to touch, jerky movements and hands that didn’t know their landing spot. And it’s different now, perhaps because Ben knows what he’s doing and so do you, and even as the bus drives on uneven road it feels so smooth. “Fuck, Ben. Feels so good.”

His hips buck up, forcing more pressure onto your pussy, and you lean forward to kiss him sloppily, letting him guide your movements. Your teeth grind against each other, your hands moving up and down his neck, and every noise that forces its way from your mouth is swallowed by Ben. And vice versa. And it’s good.

You’re gonna cum on his jeans. And not even from riding his thigh, which is a bit more respectable. From humping his cock.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetie?” Ben questions, voice low and quiet, and you drop your forehead against his. It’s embarrassingly fast. You hadn’t known how needy you were but you’ve barely been going at this for five minutes and you’re going to cum and it’ll be fast and intense. “Come on, baby. Cum on my cock. Wanna see you cum for me.”

You give yourself another twenty seconds to hold out. Ben drags his hand down your back to grasp at the globes of your ass, kneading the skin, and you press down onto his cock, clit rubbing against him, and then you reach your climax and oh no it’s too much you’re biting down on his shoulder and he hisses out in pain but he doesn’t stop you and you know you know you know you’ll be too loud if you dare to pull away so you don’t you just pull his body into yours and rock your hips again and again until you’re positive you’re done until you can move your face from his shoulder and take a breath instead of sobbing out.

A tear trickles from the corner of your eye, and Ben brings a finger to wipe it away.

“You’re so good.” his voice is soft and you lean in to kiss him, lips gentle against yours. You swear you could kiss him for weeks and not get tired. What’s the world record for kissing? You and Ben should break it. You know that you could. “Did so good.”

The bus is slowing down and you rest your forehead against his shoulder, focusing on steadying your breathing. Ben presses a hand against your back, rubbing you lightly, and then he tugs down your skirt to cover your hips. You shift and lean back against his thighs, pressing your palm against his cock, and he inhales sharply.

“Did you cum?” you question, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips, and Ben reaches down to wrap his fingers around your wrist. “I was going to help you with that in the hotel but …”

“Oh, shut up,” he tells you, and turns his head to glance out the window. “We’re almost at the hotel, you know.”

You tilt your head to the side and then lean in to kiss him. He returns it with ease. “I can still help you in the hotel, you know. With stress. A massage, maybe.” You pull apart from him, moving your hand up to his face. Your pinky drags against his lip, and you watch him slowly begin to smile. Small, yes, but you’re getting them out of him more often and it’s insanely satisfying. “A blowie,” you add, popping the ‘b.’

Ben drops his head back against the seat, and his hands go to the front of his trousers, fixing himself up for the inevitable moment you soon have to leave the bus. “A blowie? Nobody calls it that, sweetheart.” When he’s decent again he sits up more and you move with him, adjusting yourself so you maintain a comfortable position. “I’d love a blowjob, but you look like you need rest.”

You hold a hand out in front of you and stare down at it, and then back up at him with furrowed brows and the same stupid grin at your lips. It’s like an expression that never changes when you’re with him - he just does it to you. “I don’t think so. I feel all bouncy now. All hopped up. You shouldn’t have let me practically ride you if you wanted me to sleep back at the hotel.” You lean forward so your mouths are practically touching, and when you speak your breath hits the front of his face. “The only sleeping I wanna do is sleeping with -”

He leans forward, pressing his lips against yours with a dry laugh, and you return it with ease - hand going to the back of his head, leaning into him, feeling his hand go to your hip and then trailing down your back. Fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, and you tug on the strands lightly, feeling his head jerk at the feeling.

“You need to sleep,” Ben murmurs into your mouth, fingers trailing up the back of your shirt to stroke over your skin. “Tomorrow we can do whatever you want. You don’t have rehearsal at all.”

You pull away from him with a grin, rolling your hips against him once more. A glance outside shows you that the bus has slowed to a stop, and you recognize the areas surrounding your hotel even if you can’t see the building itself. “That sounds perfect. I guess I’ll suffer through tonight with my fingers -” as if to demonstrate, you hold your hands up in front of him and wiggle your fingers, “- just to wait for tomorrow.”

Ben’s eyes widen as you hop off his lap, making your way to the front of the bus as he attempts to keep up. “Your -?”

“Yep!” The two of you walk off the bus into the crisp, cold nighttime air, and Ben wraps his arm around you as he begins to lead you to the front door of the hotel. “They work fine, don’t worry. Maybe if you listen close enough you’ll hear me.”

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 benny. wake up now.

You send the text and wait, the dark surrounding you nearly suffocating in its intensity. Your hotel room itself is brutally hot, and your curls are tied in a knot atop your head with the thickest scrunchie you could find in your bag and yet sweat still drips down your neck and onto your back, and the covers have long since been kicked aside.

If you sit up and crane your neck, you can rest the back of your head against the wall - and directly on the other side of that wall is Ben. Perhaps asleep, but he’s never taken more than five minutes to answer one of your texts. Maybe he never sleeps. It wouldn’t be very surprising.

The brightness of your phone screen nearly hurts, and when you look back down at it to make the light dimmer there’s a response on your screen.

Is everything okay?

of course. but it’s really really hot.

Three dots appear and you push yourself up, tank top riding up to expose a sliver of your midriff.

I know. Feels like we’re being tortured for something.

sin?

Haha. Maybe.

You pull your shirt up to expose more of your stomach. The air hitting your skin alleviates some of the heat beating down on you, even in the dead of night, and you’re half tempted to just strip down for the night when an entirely different - an entirely better - idea hits you.

i’m all decked out in my sweaty summer attire. do you wanna see?

Do I?

You open up the camera, pointing it down on your body. The screen is uncomfortably close to your face but if you cross your eyes you can make sure you’re angling the shot just right - your short, tight sleep shorts, the tank top failing to cover half of your stomach, the peaks of your nipples through the thin fabric. When the flash goes off you can see the sweat on your body, glistening in the light, and you take a moment to examine your work before sending it off to Ben in the room next to you.

The lightning fast wifi Ben had insisted on makes sure the picture sends in barely a second, and after a minute or so you see the three bubbles appear again.

A grin spreads across your face as you see his response. Looks good enough to eat.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard of your phone. then come over here. not a long walk. i'm pretty sure you can manage it. even as old as you are.

You do know I’m four years older than you, right? Not forty.

I might need a little more motivation to make that trek, though.

Well, you’re only too eager to comply. Setting your phone down on the sheets beside you, you sit up and tug at your tank top, working it over your bun before throwing it to the ground. Your chest is slick with sweat and it feels impossibly good to have them out to the air. You reach for your phone and open to take a new picture, aiming your screen down at you and placing your hand over your left breast - nipple in between your thumb and your forefinger, you snap the picture and then look at it to examine.

You add a text to go along with it - will this make you come and join me? - and then hit send, watching the message go through, and then you drop your phone onto your bare stomach and wait.

Not for long, though. There’s a knock at your door just a few seconds later, and you practically jump out of bed, bounding down the hall with just your shorts on. Moving around freely feels wonderful on your skin, the sheen layer of sweat feeling like it’s dissipating with every movement, and when you’re at the door you rest your forehead against the wood and call out softly, “Who is it?”

It’s mocking, of course. You know exactly who it is. Making him wait is, truly, a joy - and it makes wetness rush down to your core when you hear his gruff voice replying, “You fucking know who,” and you unlock the door and swing it open without a second of hesitation.

Within a moment his lips are on yours, brutal and hard and fast paced and you nearly forget how to breathe - with his hand on your back, using his leg to kick the door shut, other hand locking it again. Your arms go around his neck, fingers tangling in his soft blonde curls as you lead him further into your hotel room. The heat is still so dense it just about hurts but it’s better with him, better as your hands trail down his back and hook around the hem of his boxers, fingernails grazing the top of his ass, better as he pushes you onto the bed and kisses his way down your jaw and neck, paying extra attention to the hardening buds of your nipples. The way his tongue swipes across your breasts is - extraordinary, how gentle yet rough he is.

“Ben, I need you. Need you now.” For how demanding the request is, your tone ruins all possible dominance it could convey - whimpery, soft, vulnerable as he sucks a hickey just above your navel. Fingers dig into the hem of your shorts, pulling them down your legs and they’re damp with your sweat but neither of you care - he just tosses them away and parts your thighs, pressing kisses to the soft skin surrounding your cunt, but before he can go any further you bring your foot up, press it to his shoulder, push him away. “Turn the light on. I want to - want to see you.”

He obeys, rolling off the bed to turn on the lamp on the nightstand, and when the room is flooded with light you can see him. Face red, glistening with moisture, and his fucking cock hard in his boxers - you feel almost bad as he returns back between your legs.

He needs release like you do.

“Benny, please. Fuck me.” It’s a plead, plain and desperate, and Ben looks up at you before wrapping his lips around your clit - plainly ignoring your request but you don’t really mind anymore, dropping your head back against the bed with a low moan. “Oh, god.”

Ben flicks his tongue just right against your clit and your hand flies down to his hair, squeezing at the strands until he’s hissing against your pussy but he doesn’t tell you to stop - just sucks your folds into his mouth, lapping up your arousal with a willing tongue, murmuring, “You taste like a fucking dream, sweetheart.”

Your breath grows heavier, and you struggle to swallow, digging your fingernails into his scalp as he works at you - and it feels so good, oh god. But you need more, need him, so you move your hands to his cheeks and force him off of you. His lips detach from your clit with a pop and he lets you pull his head up to yours, attaching your lips again, teeth crashing against each other and your taste is still prominent on his tongue.

Ben’s hands go to his boxers, tugging them down his thighs, and you can feel his hardened length against your thigh - can feel the wetness of his precum, and you whimper into his mouth.

“Benny, please. Please, please …” When he lines himself up at your entrance you could almost cry out.

HIs tip prods at your entrance and you wiggle your hips forward, trying to make him go faster but then Ben stops, bringing his hands up to where yours are tangled in the sheets on either side of your head, and you spread your fingers so he can intertwine his own with them. “Look at me, sweetie. Come on, look at me -- look --” You open your eyes and meet his gaze, swallowing as he pushes himself inside of you, and you can’t help but moan out loudly at the feeling.

“Oh, god,” Ben grunts, and the sound is heavenly to your ears. HIs forehead drops forward against yours, and you squeeze his hands, rubbing your fingers against the back of them - you’re trying to catch your breath, trying desperately, but it’s clear the both of you are struggling.

And it’s odd.

You two fuck - a lot, admittedly, and it’s never really been like this. So heavy. So intense. And Ben absolutely won’t let you break eye contact, pulls his head back to stare at you as he pulls out until only the tip of his cock is submerged in your heat before pushing back in. And you’re still grasping his hands, arching your back as he leans in to kiss your jaw and his eyes are still on yours.

A strangled moan forces its way out of your throat, and your leg - hooked around Ben’s hip, keeping his body against yours - tightens. “Fuck, Ben, please go faster - please.”

He obeys without hesitation, hips snapping against yours as fast as they’ll go. Any other time and your hands would be gripping the comforter so tight you’d be afraid of breaking it but you don’t have the soft covers in between your fingers - you have Ben’s hands, tight in yours, and you grip tighter and tighter until your nails are digging into the backs and you know there’ll be small, half crescent shaped indents when you next check. With every pump of his hips his cock brushes against that perfect spot, deep inside of you, and makes your moans and sobs and shouts louder.

No mind to the other people on this floor, late at night. That’s a problem for you to deal with tomorrow, not now. Not when Ben is doing these things to you.

Trails of sloppy kisses lead up your chest, your neck and to your lips, and you stretch your arms up above your head - arching up into the touch of Ben’s lips.

“Look at me.” his voice is firm and you hadn’t realized that you’d let your eyes slip shut. You struggle to reopen them, eyes meeting his, and a tear slips down your cheek. You aren’t particularly sure why, but something about your eyes on his while he’s fucking you like this forces those emotions from you. “I want your eyes on me. Are you going to cum?”

You nod pathetically. “Y-yes. Yes, Benny, oh my god.”

Ben untangles one of his hands from yours, and the air hits your sweaty palm but you don’t get to revel at the small relief as he snakes his hand between your bodies, circling your clit with two of his fingers. He presses down with firm, tight circles, and your vision goes white as you begin to feel your orgasm take over - but the thing that pushes you over the edge is when Ben brings your intertwined hands to his mouth, pressing a sloppy kiss to the sweaty back of your hand.

And you cum.

Your leg falls off of his torso, back down onto the soft bed, and you throw your head back and your eyes squeeze shut and you can’t help it. His hand moves from your clit to your chin, forcing your head up, and your eyes open again. He leans in to kiss you, sloppy and messy, teeth clashing and tongues swiping against each other, and you hear his stuttered grunt before he pushes himself into you completely one final time, spurts of hot cum coating your inner walls with the onset of his orgasm.

It always feels so good.

Ben thrusts in and out of you a few more lazy times, until you use your free hand to smack his shoulder. A silent invitation for him to stop, though you’re fairly certain you’re too far gone to truly tell him that. He pushes himself further onto the bed and then pulls you into him, your back firmly against his chest, and your hands are still attached.

“How was that?” he questions, voice soft, and you can hear how hoarse it is. It’s always like that after fucking.

“Perfect. Perfect, Benny, as always.” You want to kiss Ben, to assure him that he’s always beyond satisfactory but you can’t bother yourself to stretch like that. You just rest your head further against him, focusing on breathing.

Inhale, exhale.

A pair of lips presses against the back of your head, and you smile slightly. You love this, the off moments, the times between the sex. Your heart swirls with some emotion you aren’t entirely sure you’ve felt before - and you can’t pinpoint what it is, not exactly. But it’s intense when it’s with Ben, like a cloud surrounding you - suffocating you - but it’s good. So good.

His palm presses over your stomach, thumb rubbing into the soft skin, and you shut your eyes, feeling totally and utterly wrapped around him - his body and his finger, really - and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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 The last two weeks of your tour are bittersweet.

It’s been long, sure. The longest tour you’ve had yet and you feel like you’ve visited enough cities to cover a map in small, red, been-there-done-that dots, but it’s entirely worth it - worth the small detour you took to the middle of nowhere, worth the sleepless nights, worth the complete and utter exhaustion at the other end of the spectrum.

Totally worth the bodyguard-slash-boyfriend you’ve gained from it, even if you didn’t think you’d need him. Because you’re fairly positive you do need him now, need him for more than just an orgasm, because the in between moments aren’t just in between now.

They make up at least half of your interactions. And it’s positively lovely, sneaking into Ben’s room at night to cuddle and watch movies instead of fuck until you’re limping for your show the next evening. The fucking is always great and you’ve still got more than enough of it, but, hell, a girl needs some soft bits too. Ben supplies these without hesitation, and if converting some sexy times to sweet times has bothered him at all he certainly doesn’t say nor show it.

The Las Vegas night is warmer than you’d expected, though it shouldn’t have been - a city like that and you shouldn’t have even bothered to bring a sweater out on your walk. But you did, of course, and it’s tied around your waist, fabric brushing against the back of your legs, bare in your shorts. The streets at 8pm are crowded, and every now and then you catch someone’s eye - someone who looks surprised to see you, someone who appears to be a fan - but you haven’t been formally recognized yet.

No one’s asked for a picture, to simplify things. It’s an absolute blessing. Sometimes you need nights to yourself, but the hand clasped in yours may tell a different story.

Ben doesn’t count when you need nights to yourself. And he would never let you take a walk in an American city by yourself as the sun starts to go down.

“Do you have any idea of where we’re going?” he questions, and when you look at him a smile begins to spread over your face.

Oh, damn emotions. Damn beautiful boyfriend.

“Nope.” You pop the p, shaking your head so the thick braid you’ve tied in your locks sways back and forth. “I figure we’ll just walk until one of us gets tired, and then we can sit somewhere or just head back.” You glance at him again, tilting your head down to stare him in the eye. “Sound good?”

And he nods. “Sounds perfect.”

“Perfect.”

You avert your gaze down to your feet - the way both of your sneakers hit the sidewalk, his black and yours white, and the sight of your swinging hands brings heat to your cheeks for no reason at all.

(Truth be told, being so hands on with Ben in public is odd to you. And that - in itself - is odd, because is there ever a time his arm isn’t around your waist in crowds? But no, this is different, oh so different, having your palm pressed to his and all of these people can see.)

(But you don’t have too much time in Las Vegas, and it seems like the kind of place you should get out and explore before you’re gone tomorrow. You haven’t done much today, anyway. Woken up sick, so you cancelled rehearsal, but the show for tomorrow is still on. You can’t cancel anymore dates, no matter what.)

“Sweetheart,” Ben says, and you ignore the way your heart pounds against your chest at the name. “Come in here.” He nods his chin to a small corner store, one that looks as though it’s falling apart at the seams, but in your 24 years of life you’ve found that those types are the best.

You don’t ask what he needs from the store - just nod and let him lead you inside, the bell jangling as the two of you enter, and the small, stout man at the counter doesn’t spare you two a glance. Doesn’t look away from his customer, the old, white lady holding out a cupped hand as he dumps her change into her palm.

She doesn’t say thank you, just walks out of the store. You make a mental note to thank the cashier when you check out.

You and Ben walk to the very back, past the aisles of brightly packaged snacks, and you’re half tempted to grab a candy bar but you know you can get better food at the hotel. Still, you look mournfully at them as you make your way to the cold drinks, and Ben pulls open one of the freezer doors to reach in and grab a Coke.

“You know,” you begin, pulling your hand from his and crossing your arms over your chest. “That shit gives you diabetes. It’s gross.”

He looks down at the red bottle in his hands and then shrugs. “It tastes so good, though. I’ll take my chances.”

Ben turns to make his way up to the counter but you grab his arm, tugging him back with a small grin over your face. “Coke can take rust away from cans. Imagine what it does to your body.”

“I’m sure it’s no worse for the body than that lemonade you had at dinner.”

You pull a face in mock offense, and from the front of the store the bell jingles again. “Carbonation will damage your teeth, Benny. I’m not going to kiss you when you only have three teeth left.”

He furrows his eyebrows together, and you break character to giggle, and then you lean up to press a kiss to his lips. Ben glances down at the bottle again and then says, muffled against your mouth, “Well, in that case.” When you pull away he reaches for the freezer again - pulls the door open and places his coke back inside, and then bends down to grab a red Gatorade. He shuts the door and holds the drink out for you to inspect. “How’s this, darling?”

“Darling, not sweetheart?” you grab the Gatorade from him and pretend to inspect it. “Quite the change. I like it.”

You thrust the bottle back into his hands.

Ben rolls his eyes and grabs your hand again, intertwining your fingers as he winds you both back through the aisles and up to the counter. “I’ve called you plenty of things other than sweetheart.”

“Like..?”

“Just because I can’t name examples doesn’t mean -”

He stops in his tracks.

You - walking behind him in the narrow aisles of food and candy - bump into his back, and you curse under your breath. “Fuck’s sake, Ben, what’s -”

Ben doesn’t need to tell you to be quiet for you to get the message. You press your lips together and push yourself onto your toes, trying to see around Ben, and it takes you a moment to comprehend what’s going on - why is there a man in all black, hood pulled over his head? You can’t understand -

A loud shot rings out through the store. You clasp your hand over your mouth, watching the man at the counter fall to the ground with one final cry, and then he crumples in a pile of blood and moves no more.

And the guy who did it -

You drop back down to your feet. You can’t look at him, at his face through his hood as he turns his gaze upon the open cash register, rifling through the stacks of bills. Your heart is racing and your palm is sweaty, and you push yourself closer to Ben’s back. You can’t - you can’t understand, can’t comprehend what’s happening.

None of this makes sense. The cashier isn’t dead. This has to be an act, of some sort, a practical joke. And the man with the gun and the hood - holding a thick wad of cash - he’s not actually doing this.

Ben still isn’t moving. You don’t think you could if you tried.

But the man - he hasn’t seen you yet. At least, you don’t think.

Ben squeezes your hand, and perhaps he’s as scared as you are. Perhaps he’s used to this, but you don’t know.

You don’t fucking know. And you don’t know what to do now, how to react, what you’re supposed to be seeing and feeling and doing. You’ve never seen someone die before, and the poor, poor cashier is dead on the ground with a bullet hole through his chest.

It seems like time stands still as the man stuffs the cash in his hoodie pocket, and then he turns to leave and you want to be relieved, to let out a breath you’ve been holding. To check on the cashier (you were going to thank him, to do what that lady hadn’t) and feel his heart pumping beneath your fingers, call the police and go back to the hotel.

But then - the man’s gaze turns upon the pair of you, standing in between aisles of candy.

You can practically hear him breathing from across the store, in the dense silence surrounding all three of you. And then he yells, “Put your fucking hands up,” and then Ben charges at him.

Ben knocks the gun out of his hand before the man can even have time to raise it, and you the thud when the pair of them fall to the ground is deafening. You take a step back, bringing a hand up to press over your mouth, because it’s all you can fucking do. It’s all you can even process - pure shock. Shock as the man reaches for the gun across the floor. Shock as Ben reaches his leg out to kick it away. Shock as your boyfriend looks at you, arms wrapped around the man’s neck, and yells at you to call the fucking police.

It’s all you can do to obey. You fumble in the pocket of your sweatshirt around your waist and find your phone, and with shaking fingers you go to your calls and dial in 911, and then you take a step back - turn around so you can’t see what’s happening because if you see your boyfriend fighting with a murderer you might vomit before you can even talk to the police.

Ring. There’s a groan from behind you, and you can’t recognize the tone of it.

Ring. There’s another sickening thud, like something heavy hitting the cool tile of the convenience store, and you can’t bring yourself to think about what it was.

Ring. Your heart beats uncontrollably and a tear falls down your cheek, and you wonder if the cashier had a family. Is his wife waiting for him? His kids, perhaps, with a new drawing to pin on the fridge? Is he alive, now, collapsed behind the counter and fighting for his life with no one to help him? Or is he gone, gone as soon as the bullet pierced his chest?

It’s hard to think that the latter is true, no matter how much you want to.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

The cool, female voice of the 911 operator nearly makes you sob out. You choke out with a strangled gasp, “There’s been a - a robbery in 7/11 - and the cashier -”

Another tear slips down your cheek and trails down your neck. You bring a hand up to wipe it away. You can vaguely process her question - where? Where is the store? - and in your mind you try to imagine the street signs, where you passed while you were walking and hardly anything comes to mind.

“I think -” you swallow. “I think Paradise -”

Another bullet rings out through the store, and your phone drops out of your grasp. The screen shatters as it hits the ground, and with a cry you fall to the ground because -

You’ve never been shot before. You suppose it’s a night of firsts, and the bullet hurts so fucking much you can’t fucking handle it - blood stains your t shirt and your head slams against the ground, hand pressed against the wound in your shoulder, and the bright fluorescent lights of the 7/11 are the last thing you see before your vision falls away and you’re plunged into darkness.

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 In your dreams you think about the cashier, but only briefly. You imagine his life, him as a child, growing up, getting married. Working at a 7/11, and selling to customers who don’t bother to even thank him as they leave, and it’s a tragic life, the one you picture for him.

When your eyes open you’re staring at the ceiling, bright fluorescent lights, and there are tears on your cheeks. You wonder if you’re still on the cool tiles of 7/11 - or, perhaps, in heaven, doomed to haunt the crappy convenience store for all eternity - but there’s something soft beneath your back. Ringing in your ears.

And your head aches. Oh, Christ, it aches so fucking bad.

You press your hands over your eyes, but it does slightly hurt to move. Not as bad as the raging throbbing of your brain inside your head, and considering what happened - you suppose that’s a surprise. Surely being shot should hurt more than a headache.

And it hurt so bad, the bullet in your shoulder.

It must have hurt so much worse for the cashier. In your heart you’re sure he’s gone, now. Even if he was alive in the moments just after.

“Hey.”

The voice - familiar and soft spoken - still sends what feels like spikes through your temples, and you press the heels of your hands into your eyes with a small whimper. Slowly you turn to look at the person sitting next to the bed and you shouldn’t be surprised that it’s Ben but it is and you are.

“Hi.” you push yourself up more, giving him a small smile, and then you drop your hand down to grope for his hand. Oh, fuck, you need his touch, need him to tell you you’re going to be alright. And surely you will. But it always feels better coming from someone you love. “Hi. Benny. Oh my - oh my god.”

You can’t find his hand.

When your eyes meet his, they’re bloodshot and red, and you frown.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Ben mumbles, and his voice cracks on the last syllable. “I couldn’t - I was trying so hard. I promise. I never wanted you to -”

The lights hurt your eyes so you shut them, leaning your head back, and then you shake your head. “Benny - it’s not your fault.”

“It fucking is,” Ben interjects, and the tone of it confuses you. He sounds - angry, nearly, defensive. But surely he isn’t. What should he have to be angry for? “I’m supposed to protect you. That’s my job, Y/N. And I couldn’t.”

“I’m fine,” you murmur, voice hoarse. “Ben, I’m fine.”

“But you might not have been.” You don’t open your eyes but you can practically sense his motions, and you don’t like it one bit. “The bullet didn’t - it grazed you. But if you had been in a slightly different position you could be dead or nearly so. And it would have been my fault.”

“It’s his fault!” Your voice rises, and then you open your eyes despite the violent throbbing in your head. “He - he killed that man and then he shot me and it wasn’t your fucking fault, Ben.”

Ben shakes his head and then runs a hand through his hair. You reach out again, try to grab his hand but you can’t reach it and he won’t help you. Angry tears sting at your eyes and you bring a hand up to brush them away, sniffling slightly. Ben says, “I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

Your world comes to a full tilt stop.

And then you swallow, voice dry, all of a sudden. Surely you haven’t heard him right. Or maybe - maybe you’re still dreaming. “What?”

He stands, scooting his chair back with the most painful noise you’ve ever heard and you whine out again. He looks back at you and his arms are crossed, thumb in his mouth to nibble at his nail, and then he looks away from you. “I told you, when we started - when we started dating -”

You finish his sentence for him. “I don’t want something to happen to you because I’m distracted.” You raise an eyebrow, and he nods slowly. “It’s awfully arrogant of you to assume this happened because you were distracted. I mean, you didn’t seem very distracted.”

“You don’t understand, Y/N.”

“Then explain it to me!”

Even slightly raising your voice sends waves of pain coursing through your mind, and you press your hands to your forehead as if that will stop the pain. Ben turns around and then sits at the edge of your bed, and you pull your feet up so you aren’t touching him.

You’re mad. You’re kind of very mad. He isn’t supposed to be breaking up with you because you got shot. This isn’t how things are supposed to be.

“If we weren’t dating I wouldn’t have hesitated before going at him.” He’s explaining it like an adult would to a child and you fucking hate it, but you don’t have the energy to call him out on it. You feel - drained, of just about everything, and as he speaks you slowly keep shaking your head because this isn’t fucking right. “You know I love you.”

In any other circumstance the confession would surprise you, but you just shake your head. “I didn’t know that.”

There’s a thick pause, hanging heavy in the air before Ben continues. “Well - I do. I love you so much.” The words go straight to your heart and you can feel the pricking of tears behind your eyes again. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think it necessary. Please understand that.”

But you can’t understand it. You don’t think you ever will.

You don’t respond, and after a minute the door to your hospital room opens and a nurse shuffles in with a small smile. She has thick curly hair pulled into a bun on the back of her head and dark skin, bright eyes and an aura that makes you immediately happy to be in her presence. If she can sense the tension in the air she certainly doesn’t show it, just makes her way over to you and pulls a seat up next to your bed.

“Miss Y/L/N. Glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?” The voice - so calm and steady - reminds you off the 911 operator, and you cringe slightly.

“Um -” you try to comprehend the question but it is, admittedly, more difficult than you’d like. “Fine. It kind of hurts when I move and my head - my head hurts a lot.”

Ben looks away. You don’t want to feel his gaze on you, anyway.

The nurse nods, and then writes some stuff down on the clipboard in her grasp. You don’t tell her how you’re emotionally feeling because it doesn’t matter - problems for another time.

After a moment she speaks again, and you avert your eyes to her nametag - the name Laura, loopy letters drawn in purple pen. “I have some things to discuss with you about some tests we ran.” She looks at Ben, seated at the bottom of the bed, and he obligingly stands without being told.

He looks at you and you pointedly look away. Your ex boyfriend, you suppose, now, clears his throat and then says, “I’ll be downstairs. Text me if you need anything.” He pauses. “We fixed your phone.” He nods to the table beside your bed, and in your peripheral vision you can see your familiar phone case.

Surely looking at your text conversations with him will just make you want to cry. You already know you won’t be texting him, no matter what you need.

Ben leaves and you hear the door shut before Laura turns back to you, drumming chipped nails against her clipboard, and she examines the paper clipped to it for a moment before speaking.

“Well, you’re a very lucky girl.” You don’t feel very lucky, with a throbbing head and a bullet through your shoulder, but you give her a false smile anyway. “The bullet didn’t do too much damage. Just grazed you.”

“It still hurt a lot.”

Laura laughs softly, though it wasn’t a joke. You appreciate her energy.

“You have a concussion - which should explain the headaches - but it’s fairly mild. Should feel better in two weeks or so.” Laura gives you a smile and you find it easier to return than you’d expected. She is a joy, you decide. And if you had to have one nurse telling you about injuries you sustained from getting shot, you certainly enjoy that it’s her. “But there are some other - rather concerning things we found while doing tests.”

Concerning? Nothing about that sounds good at all. You push yourself up more, looking down at her clipboard, and she adjusts it so you can’t see what she has written.

Sneaky.

“What?” your words slur together and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re concussed or nervous. “What is it?”

Instinctively you reach down for her free hand on the bed. She lets you grasp it, and then she clears her throat and says,

“Did you know that you’re pregnant, Miss Y/L/N?”

And - and -

“No.”

You shake your head, pushing yourself up more, and you drop Laura’s hand like it’s a hot potato.

“No, I’m not,” you tell her, and she gives you an apologetic expression but you don’t want a fucking apologetic expression, you want her to tell you that she mixed up your fucking results with someone else. “I’m not. I mean, I can’t be. I’m sorry, but that isn’t right.”

“It is. The test was very conclusive.”

“It isn’t right.” It’s all you can think, pressing a hand over your stomach, and there’s no movement because there’s nothing there. There is no baby - you aren’t pregnant, you just fucking aren’t. It doesn’t make sense. “I’m sorry. It isn’t - it isn’t right.”

Laura stands, holding her clipboard to her chest, and now you’re fucking mad at her. Want to slam that clipboard over her head because she’s wrong. Those tests aren’t right.

She says, “I’ll give you some time to process this on your own,” and then she points out the button you can press if you need her, and she walks out.

You bring your knees to your chest the best that you can, hand kneading over your stomach, searching for any sign of life - a sign that isn’t there because there’s nothing there it isn’t true it can’t be true - and it’s still, unmoving, regular stomach.

It isn’t right.

It can’t. It can’t.

You were sick.

There’s a million reasons for that. You got food poisoning, perhaps. Or you just had a bug.

But there’s no fucking baby. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

“Oh god.” you’re only speaking to yourself, and to the baby in your stomach that isn’t there, and you shake your head, eyes squeezed desperately shut. “Oh god. Oh - god.”

It’s the only thought in your head - the only words you’re capable of saying. No other thought can come to your mind, besides the fact that Ben is here and he’s the only one this thing could belong to - but it isn’t, it isn’t fucking true, it can’t be - and you do believe you might be texting him sooner than you’d wanted to.

“Oh god.”

[svrssnp]

Tag-Along🃏 - Joker x Reader [H.L.]

Summary: You convince the Joker to bring you along for a small heist operation, yet nothing is ever so easy, is it?

Rating: T / violence, light swearing, death / it’s the joker bby

Word Count: ~3,400 (oof)

Comments: if you wanna be updated for future joker fics, lemme know and i’ll create a tag list. also!! requests are open, so stop in! i have just been so grateful and overwhelmed from such a positive response regarding the first fic, so thank you all :,)

Joker didn’t have rules for you, or him, or anyone. But he did have principles—those trains of thought that wrecked their way into his mind—the little obsessions that he clung to, his own personal philosophy.

One of them, the one that you always heard, was his most serious: never cross business and pleasure.

But Joker had been aggravated as of late.

Coming home early, while you didn’t mind at all, flew up red flags. His private musings were longer than usual, as he hastily hung up phone much more aggressive lately. And every so often, while you were making breakfast or getting ready for bed, he’d come up from behind and rest his head on your shoulder, saying nothing but deeply sighing in discontent—the way a bored toddler would.

While appreciated, the gesture made you nervous. All in all, the Joker was bored, and if he didn’t have a decent enough distraction soon, you worried that his men—or you, even—would pay for it.

Grumbling in the hallway or stomping his feet too loudly accompanied him everywhere in the last few days, so when you’d seen him sitting at the vanity later in the day smearing on the white greasepaint across his forehead, you decided to take a gamble.

“So... what exactly are you doing tonight?” you asked with a knock on the door, looking in the mirror’s reflection to gauge his reaction.

His hand never stopped applying the paint, now reaching up to craft the haphazard black circles around his eyes. “Simple inventory restock. Need a few bazookas—Gotham’s armory should have a few to, ah, borrow.” The words were so nonchalant as he moved his head to see if there were any missing spots.

You walked into the room, innocent as could be. “Sounds a bit boring for you, isn’t it?”

He turned around with a grin, looking like a skeleton with only the white and black—eyes seeped into his skull.

“You’re beginning to know me so well, doll. Now,” he leaned against the vanity and offered up the red tube, “come over here and put a smile on my face, hmm?”

You raised your eyebrows, plucking the tube from his hand as you performed the little intimacy between the two of you. His lips puckered up mockingly as you traced them.

As you carved out the red smile, you couldn’t help but mimic it. Touching his scars had seemed so daunting of a task at first, but now... it was nice of him, you guessed, to allow one vulnerable aspect to show.

Joker seemed to enjoy the moment also, slowly closing his eyes at the familiarity, leaning his head back in relaxation.

He looked content. Almost.

The good atmosphere gave you the courage you needed. Clutching the lipstick a tad bit harder than necessary, you let slip, “Why don’t you bring me along, then?”

Immediately, his brows furrowed in confusion, and an eye popped open to look at you. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” you hesitated, taking a shaky breath while your hand curled to form the wide smile, “you’ve been restless lately... Something has obviously been bothering you! So I just thought—“

“No, no, no, no, no,” he shook his head and grabbed your wrist in hand, halting you. “Tell me, doll, have you been planning out this argument in your head all day, or did you just think up this terrible question now?”

“All day,” you said, pulling your hand away roughly, but Joker held tight, unyielding. “Because you’ve been so obviously upset all week.”

“And explain to me—no, really, go on,” he hissed, lunging down, “how you accompanying me to a heist would fix this?”

You huffed, throwing the lipstick down. “God forbid I try to cheer you up with something different.”

His other hand looped around your waist, pulling you in between his legs as he held you between them, then taking both his hands to grab your face, he pulled you close, as if your heads closer would transfer his exact thoughts.

“I do forbid it,” he whispered, lips almost touching your own, “and you know perfectly well why. I like you here, safe and untouchable—from all except me, of course—because you risking your neck is a liability, and I protect what’s mine.”

“Liar,” you said quickly, as you started going cross-eyed by looking him directly in the eyes so closely. “You let your men die all the time.”

He tsked, disregarding them quickly. “They aren’t, they’re aren’t mine. They’re their own mistakes. And I don’t clean up mistakes, I just direct them.”

“Oh, so what? I’m pure to you?”

“The purest,” Joker mumbled, voice growing dangerously deep as he leaned in to finally connect you two.

It was a shock—both physically and mentally. Every interaction with him was mental gymnastics. Every kiss was like an electric charge. It exhausted you, excited you.

You reached a hand up then to deepen the kiss, but that had been his queue to stop.

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t get so hot on me when I have to leave,” he said, leaning away with a smack of his lips.

“But—“

“Hush,” Joker insisted, redirecting your head to press against his chest in an attempt to keep you quiet. His one hand looped around to pat your hair down. “I only want you to understand my point of view. Business and pleasure don’t mix.”

“But you said the business was simple!” you retorted, lifting your head up. “And you haven’t been very pleasant lately!”

“Doll, I am fine. In fact,” he licked his lips, already cracking the paint, “a smile never leaves my face!”

You didn’t think it possible, but when he smiled he managed to look even more unhappy.

“This isn’t just about you, you know... Maybe I want to accompany you because I’d like to,” you said, trying an entirely different approach to hopefully speak to his ego. “Maybe I’d like to see the your working side—the side that everyone else sees.”

At that, Joker grinned, already playing out all the fantasies in his mind. A laugh sounded from him until he waved a finger at you. “Hmph, you’re trying. You’re tempting me.”

“Come on,” you whined. “I know heists aren’t anything new for you—they’re boring!—but maybe with me it will be?”

You were grasping at straws, but you could see him cracking. A final push was all that was needed.

“Let’s say you go,” Joker pushed away, leaving you behind at the vanity while he threw on his dusty trench coat over top. “What will happen? You distract me in front of the men? You trip over a live wire? What?”

You started at him blankly while he began fitting on his gloves with a hard slap of the skin.

“Because the way I see it—the right way—is that you’ll distract me, get me going, make me...” he rolled his eyes at the thought of even saying the word, “emotional.”

And with that case of his, all your arguments flew out the window. Your mind struggled to come up with something that might appeal to him.

“Don’t you... um, want?” you cleared your throat, knowing this was a long shot. “To, well, show me off?“

“And have their eyes have the fortune of seeing you?” he purred, opening up the door to leave. “Never.”

“What if—“ you were going to argue, going to call him a name or throw a tantrum, but the more you thought, it just wasn’t worth it. The original goal was to make him feel better, after all, not worse. So you cut yourself off, arms falling to your side in defeat. “Fine.”

“You’re not going,” Joker said pointedly as he straightened his tie. “I’ll be back in a few hours where you will be asleep and not waiting up for me. Do you understand?”

You bit down on your tongue to prevent anything other than “Yes” to slip out.

“Good,” Joker replied, ruffling his hair up last-minute while he glanced at himself in a mirror. “You surprised us all and proven you can follow orders given—that’s important,” he mocked.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, turning your back to go get a shower. “Have fun stealing your bazookas.”

“Thank you, my dear,” he said, mimicking that of an old 1950s sitcom husband. “Oh, and one more thing?” You were about to leave the room, but stopped. “Get your shoes on—I’ve decided you’re coming along and that’s an order.”

Your mouth dropped, and frantically you slipped on a pair of shoes before you followed his laugh out the door.

——————————

To your surprise, you kept silent the entire drive. Joker proved himself to be a truly terrible driver—speeding in all the wrong places and swerving when completely unnecessary—but you had a feeling he was only showing off his failed skills to scare you.

Even he seemed impressed when the van finally parked outside in an alley two blocks down and not a word was uttered.

Without warning, he got out, flinging open the back van doors to get some bags. After throwing two over his shoulder, he tossed something at you.

“A mask?” your nose scrunched up at the painted clown face staring up at you. It was all chipped off too, as if someone else had worn it.

Joker threw you a look, grabbing various guns and dropping them into multiple pockets. “Put it on. Last thing I need is for your face to be dripping in greasepaint too.”

“Would I be able to get a fancy alter-ego then?” you laughed as you slipped it on and began to match his stride down the alley. “Though not a clown. Definitely not. I like you and all, but the idea of couple crime costumes is—hmph!”

His hand flew against your mouth, arms caging around you and throwing both of you towards the brick wall. Your eyes widened, but you didn’t necessarily feel him tense up. Joker was just on guard.

“Now,” he hissed in your ear, and you could feel the heat of his breath against your cheak, “there is a camera right around there,” he waved in a general direction ahead. “I am going to dismantle it and you,” he squeezed tighter, “are going to keep quiet and follow dutifully behind. Alright?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he didn’t let go. “Mm, mm, mm, no words! Nod.”

After nodding yes, he let go, stalking forward with a pistol in one hand and a bouncy step in his foot.

His eyes scanned the area around you two, and he must have found what he was looking for because quickly, he raised the pistol and shot, shattering some little black orb on the side of the building.

“And there goes... our... audience,” he hummed, arm hanging back down to his side.

“How did you even see that?” you muffled against the mask, eyes squinting to find what he apparently had.

“With my two eyes, doll, with my two eyes,” he muttered, slipping the gun back in his pocket. “Now, climb that ladder instead of stalking me.”

“Admiring. Observing,” you insisted. “And... why me first? There could be someone at the top waiting.”

“There could be,” he conceded, but didn’t shy away from placing your hand on the first rung, “and if there is, that’d certainly mean that they’d learn from their mistakes. But,” he clicked his tongue, “they’re not as smart as that.”

You sighed, “It’d make me feel better if you had your gun out... all the same.”

“How can I say no to that?” Joker smiled, pulling out a short shotgun and resting it over his shoulder. “Now scat.”

He poked you in the back with the nose of the gun, and with a grumble you began climbing.

The building wasn’t too tall—only a few stories high —but the wind nipped with it being so late in the night, and you kept having to push the too-big mask back on your face.

Before you climbed the last few rungs to look over, you hesitated, knuckles turning white from your cold grip.

You looked down at Joker. A toothy smile with crinkling eyes meet you while he lazily held on with a hand, rocking back ‘n forth on his heels. Hair and jacket billowing in the air, he didn’t look the least bit worried.

“Promise me there’s no one up here waiting for us?” you whispered.

“Cross my heart and hope to die~” he sang, gun swinging in his hand, “though, that’s how I always am.”

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, your hands grabbed the rooftop, hoisting yourself up to throw a leg over, and—

He was right, of course.

Feeling like a baby once he made it up also, Joker couldn’t not take the opportunity to tease.

“No one here. See?” he said, ruffling your hair obnoxiously. “Perhaps you’ve been spending too much time with me. You’re starting to get a little, ah, dramatic.”

“It’s not funny,” you muttered as he shot the door lock off with a silencer.

“Relax, doll. Aren’t you here to entertain me on this bring-your-kid-to-work day experience?” he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Bad manners...”

“I’m a kid?” you scoffed, following him down the stairwell the door opened to. “I think not enough people know the truth.”

“Of?”

“Just how young you look underneath all that war paint. We almost look like a proper couple.”

Joker stopped immediately, holding out his hand to throw you a nasty look. “Talk like that again and we won’t be anything for much longer.”

Repressing a smile, you held up a hand to show him zipping your lips shut and throwing away the key. That seemed to appease him as you both continued on.

Though the further down you got, the more serious he seemed to become. Joker took greater care with his steps and turned back every few seconds to assure that you were doing the same. Several flights later, and the two of you exited the stairwell, working your way into a hallway. After a confusing amount of turns, you found yourself at a foyer with an opening looking down to the main floor of the building.

Two guards were down there, as far as you could tell, at least. One posted at the door, and another sat behind the main desk. Either way, their backs were turned from each other and they seemed like easy targets from an objective point of view.

Except that they had automatics strapped against their back.

Joker looked at them uncaring, as if he were a god looking down on mere mortals.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d be this quiet,” you whispered after a few seconds of silence and him patting down his pockets to find something.

“I’m usually not,” he said with a hint of a whine in his voice. “If I were with my men, we’d have just gone through the front door—play a game of shoot out. But with you, I thought it best that we be the only ones in attendance.”

“That’s considerate,” and you had to hold back a laugh at his look of disgust. “Though we aren’t the only ones. There’s also these two guards.”

At that, Joker found what he was looking for and pulled out yet another gun, flipping a lock and pulling the trigger before you even had a chance to comprehend what was happening.

“One,” he corrected, as the guard sitting behind the desk slumped back in his chair, Joker’s bullet firing right through his head silently. You gasped, but Joker just had a bemused look on his face. “Learn to count.”

Your mouth fell open upon seeing the man lie completely still, a faint trail of red running down his white shirt. Joker grabbed your arm, leading you around the foyer to a new angle where you could both better see the other guard by the door. He was totally calm.

“I know, I know,” Joker said upon seeing your shocked state. “Shooting people’s the dull way, and all work and no play makes me a dull boy, but we’re not here for a thrill. Just goods.”

You shook your head, not quite expecting everything to move so quickly. “Can I ask a question?”

“My face is an open book.”

You reached out your hand to him, needing something to hold onto with all the terrifying possibilities of what exactly could happen tonight racing in your mind. “Were you ever like me, at one point?” you whispered, feeling so much dread pool in your stomach. “Did you ever feel like I do right now?”

“Look at me,” Joker kneeled down to be eye-level with you. A gloved hand came up to lay against your cheek as he hummed, licking his lips once. “How do you feel?”

Your eyes flicked down to the dead man. “Guilty.”

“At me, not him,” and he turned your head to his. “Life is, ah, subjective. The codes that people live by—they made them, doll. Not anything else. So the definitions of good and bad?” His fist tightened before flexing, showing an empty hand. “They vanish.”

“Joker, I know this already,” you murmured, pulling your cheek away. “You’ve said this all before. There’s just a difference between hearing and actually seeing it.”

He frowned at you, and you tried your best not to feel bad at how frustrated he was, fists coiling up once more. “Look, look there,” he spit harshly, pointing a finger at the guard standing by the door. “That man right there, with the automatic strapped to his back. Would you kill him?”

“Joker...”

“If I asked you to, would you do it?”

You looked over the balcony, mouth set in a frown to see how young and healthy the guy looked. “He seems like a nice family guy,” was all you said.

But Joker didn’t care, snapping his fingers. “Yes or no?”

“Yes, alright?” you hissed at him, stalking away from the balcony. “What kind of question is that? If it was between you and him shooting at each other or something, then obviously I’d try to save you.”

“But would you kill him?” Joker pressed on, following you regardless of the glared you fixed him with. His eyes looked darker than usual, pupils blown wide. He circled you, looking up and down. “Because I’d kill them all—you know that. That family man that you feel bad about? If he even so much as glanced—BANG!“

“You’d do that on any day.”

Joker made a noise, pinching the back of your neck to make you jump into him. His eyes narrowed in on your scared form, holding an amused expression. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, releasing with a loud pop of the lips. An apology.

“Stay here then, doll. I’ll finish off our, ah, family man,” he cleared his throat and only smiled at your sad face, “then grab what we came for.”

Then he was walking away, opening the door to the stairwell and ready to slip out until you stopped him.

“You’ll be right back?”

“Ten minutes,” he announced, crossing his fingers in a promise and holding them up for you to see before he kicked shut the door and left you alone. “Ten minutes.”

So you waited, a chill seeping its way down your spine at the silence around you. The feeling of being watched threatened all comfort that you had when Joker was around, and it eventually got to the point where you almost dared to get up and pace. You couldn’t sit still.

After a few minutes, you took a deep breath and peaked over the balcony. Sure enough, family man was dead, laying on his stomach.

More minutes passed, and although you didn’t get the exact count right, you knew it had to be longer than ten minutes by now. Yes, your nerves were jumpy, and even then short minutes felt like an hour, but you just knew.

But you sat still, because you also knew that he’d be back, and the last thing you needed was to take one false step and set off anything.

Until you heard a gunshot. Heard it. You never heard Joker. He didn’t work like that.

Again, you waited for a few seconds to see if any sound followed, but it was silent.

So you ran, struggling to carry yourself with shaky legs. Your hand clutched the gun as you trudged down stories of stairs trying to find any indication of where he might be, but there was none.

You made your way down to the main floor, trying your best to avoid the sight of the two dead men. Finally, as you roamed, you found another set of stairs leading downward. The door was hanging open, so you walked slowly, gun out in front. You barely knew how to use it, but you figured the last thing Joker would do is have the safety lock on.

So you’d just have to point and pull, right?

You crept, winding your way to the basement component. Here, the lights were neon bright, illuminating everything in a sick glow reminding you of a hospital. You felt light-headed suddenly, wondering where Joker had gone.

Your sights narrowed in to another room, one looking like an entrance to a safe due to all of the fancy gadgets surrounding it.

God, you just wanted to run, to get in the van and keep driving. It was probably best to leave Gotham all together.

But he could be hurt. What if he was hurt?

Much less suave than you would have liked, you crept into the safe. You saw another dead man. It looked like he was stabbed in the neck also, as his one hand, now frozen, was on his throat, as if trying to do the bleeding.

You glanced down at his other hand and saw a gun lying right next to it, his finger still practically on the trigger.

It happened in slow-motion—seeing him. All the events seemed to stall in your brain, struggling to make sense of what you saw. You only turned your head a quarter of the way when you saw another crumbled body on the ground.

And there lie Joker.

Red painted the floor around him, blood going this way and that. The bags, filled with those stupid, stupid bazookas, were right next to them near his forgotten trench coat, revealing all the knives he’d loved like children.

His eyes were shut—thank God—because you’d scream if you had to see his eyes like... that, devoid of everything.

Everything of him was gone.

Your mind went into a frenzy, running after him. But it wasn’t fast enough, nothing you did was enough now.

His name spilled from your lips a thousand times as you kneeled down, hands going to his hair, his face, his arms, and tie—anything to anchor him to you. You shook his frantically, begging him to get up, to have any consciousness left. But all that did was cause even more of his poorly dyed green hair to fall in the red puddle coming out from him.

“Joker...” you gasped, bringing you head down to rest on his chest, straining to hear a heartbeat.

Nothing.

“Joker, please. Please, please, please...” Cries escaped your lips as you looked down upon him. His lips were parted, and you had to hold back a sob at how broken he looked. The scars stretched his face so unnaturally then, making his corpse look inhuman.

He looked like a monster, laying in blood with knives and scars surrounding him.

“This is all my fault,” you choked out, giving into gravity and falling into him completely. Burying your face into his dress shirt, you breathed in the awful smokey scent that always accompanied his suits. That you’d always complained about. “I shouldn’t have been here... You shouldn’t be here! We should be home! We should be... be...

“We should have done more. Should have left this stupid, stupid city. You—you weren’t supposed to die here, damn it! DAMN IT, JOKER, COME BACK!” Your hands started shaking, and you had to pull away at how angry you felt, how... how beaten down.

But you couldn’t move far. Those hands had always managed to find a way to pull you in. That face had always managed to convince you to stay. That voice...

“This can’t be the end. It can’t. You can’t die like this—like, like some person.” Then suddenly your hands were in his hair, wiping it away from his forehead to view him again, to remember those smile lines and forehead wrinkles.

Panic started to rise once you thought of what to do next. You couldn’t carry him to the van, and even if you did, what then? Did you contact his men, telling them what happened? Did you leave him here?

But you didn’t want to give up, to walk away from everything he’d shown you. He wouldn’t leave.

“You’re better than them. You said you were. And I thought so too… so don’t die like them.”

Leaning down, you pressed your lips to his forehead—so painfully similar like he’d done to you only twenty minutes before—and had to hold back yet another sob.

“Say it’s just a bad joke,” you whispered into his hairline, not daring to open your eyes to face the truth once again. “Say it.”

Until a voice filled with so much offense replied back, sending a bolt of electricity through your being, sending feeling back into you.

“I’ve never told a bad joke in my life, doll.”

That deep and perfect and raspy and infuriating voice.

“Wha—JOKER! Joker, oh my god. Oh my god!” you screamed, tears flowing even more at the whirlwind of emotion.

He chuckled then, throwing his head to the side while pure, unadulterated glee filled his eyes. Immediately, you threw your arms around his neck, crawling into his lap with such urgency that he barely made it sitting up.

“Ooh, doll, calm down,” he teased, finally getting the laughs under control enough to examine you. “I’ve only been gone, ah, twenty minutes at most, and you’ve been crying all this time?”

“You asshole!” you yelled, slapping him in the arm that he’d wrapped around you. But you still leaned in, never daring to leave. “You absolute bastard—I thought, I really thought that you’d—“

But you couldn’t even get the words out without collapsing against him in tears again and again.

“Shhh, shhh, shhhhh,” he murmured, resting his chin atop your head. “You were right in your cute little euology—I am better than that.”

He giggled once more, and you couldn’t help but smile a little upon feeling the rumble of his chest. It was moving again. It was alive, and you felt yourself beginning to grow hysterical.

“You weren’t breathing.”

“Yeah?” he replied in a tone so obvious that it threatened your sanity.

You sat up in his lap, still never letting his tie go, but enough to get a look at him.

“You were... you were dead, Joker.”

“Mmm, no. Death doesn’t have as many possibilities as this.”

Suddenly, he surged forward, tongue immediately finding its way into your mouth as you moaned deeply into the kiss. He growled, bending you in half as he sat up more also, squishing you fully in his lap.

It was so backwards—everything that he did to you. Tears were still wet on your face, but you couldn’t stop giving in to him. You thought you’d lost him, for God’s sake.

“I—I can’t believe you did that to me,” you said, barely even knowing what to say as you broke for air and stuffed your face into his shoulder.

“Please... It wasn’t even that bad. I debated on making it much gorier,” he said so casually, still finding the situation amusing. “Did you really expect to go on a field trip with me and not have any, ha, education?”

Your head shook, commonly disagreeing with him. “You’re terrible. You’re terrible and I’m never coming with you again in my entire life if you act like this.”

“I warned you,~” he lulled you back into false security. And you suddenly felt nauseous understanding that this was probably his thought process for letting you come in the first place. It was all meant to terrify you, to scare.

And it worked.

“Just take me home,” you sniffed in his shoulder, and tried your best to maintain dignity and eye contact at the same time. “Please.”

Joker reached up, wiping a tear from your eye. His bottom lip was puckered out, mimicking your pouting. “Doll, I’d want nothing more.”

And with that, he stood, pulling you up alongside him while he collected his jacket and bags. You felt like a child, but insisted on holding his hand the entire way up the steps of that basement, and probably all the way home too.

“Oh, heh, actually, almost forgot.” He stopped once the two of you reached the main floor, and reached into your pocket to take out a playing card.

It was a simple black and white Joker, complete with two Js on each corner.

“When did you put that in my pocket?” you asked as he pulled out a red marker, doodling something on the glass before pocketing it.

He simply shrugged, licking the back of the card before sticking it to the front door of the building. For a finishing touch, he took the mask you’d been wearing and hung it right above.

“Tricks of the trade.”

[angryhausfrau-writes]

I Travel Troubled Oceans - Chapter 2: The Heist

Charles was, in fact, difficult to persuade of the plan. Sure, he wants money just about as much as any of the rest of the crew. But he's also pretty fucking pissed at Eleanor Guthrie.

Although the prospect of getting one over on her – and ruining another one of the people responsible for sending him to jail and getting filthy rich in the process – is a strong incentive. And Jack's always been good with words. Persuasive, one might say. Charles is stubbly, slightly recalcitrant putty in his hands.

So they all troop down to the nearest YMCA so Charles can take a shower. And Anne shoplifts him some slightly more upscale slutty clothes, because God forbid the man ever actually wear a shirt. But he looks like a halfway respectable stripogram by the time he shows up to Eleanor's little birthday party – a fashionable two hours late so the party's in full swing and he doesn't look desperate. Though Eleanor will probably still read him that way. A pathetic sad sack crawling back to her on bended knee, ready to beg forgiveness and willing to do anything to get back in her good graces now that his former crew is a wreck and Flint's run off to America.

Eleanor thinks she's got Charles right where she wants him – under her two-thousand dollar heels. But that doesn't mean it's not a scene worthy of the fucking Baftas when she sees him come through the door.

Jack and Anne and the new guy are posted up in the kitchen, dealing to all the posh little fucks looking for a bit of white gold to get the party started right. Just killing time until Charles makes his move and he and Eleanor head to the bedroom.

And minimalist open plan living being in fashion, even in these old Victorian piles, they can hear every fucking word of the happy little reunion from a whole half a house away.

“Why Charles,” Eleanor practically purrs – and it's the purr of a Jaguar, lethal and expensive. “Whatever are you doing here.”

It's not a question.

Charles forces himself to look down at his feet. As if he's weak. As if he's ashamed.

“Eleanor.” He makes it sound anguished instead of angry. “I had a lot of time to think while I was away.”

Because Eleanor and her lot threw him away. And who knew Chaz was such a good actor? There's none of the violent, simmering fury Jack knows he feels over the betrayal. His tone is contrite and he must look suitably groveling, because Eleanor lets him continue.

“I started thinking about what was important – what was good in my life.” Namely her. And what he'd do to get her back. Though that goes unsaid, because there's such a thing as laying it on too thick, even for Eleanor fucking Guthrie.

And they – Jack, mostly Jack, who'd coached Charles through the whole interaction - must have struck just the right balance of pathetic groveling and virile masculinity with that little performance, because Eleanor says, “Why don't we discuss this somewhere more private, Charles?”

A few minutes later, Jack gets a surreptitious eggplant emoji from Charles's burner phone – the prearranged signal that he's successfully convinced Eleanor to sleep with him and that they're free to comb the house. Jack sends a winky face in response and then he, Anne, and the new guy split up to search for the cash.

Knowing Charles – and Eleanor – they'll probably be tied up for a while. Charles almost definitely literally. But that doesn't mean they can dawdle.

Anne takes to rifling through the bedrooms, disturbing several couples – and more – in the throws of passion. But she's always been good at intimidating idiots to stay out of her way – and so obviously on a mission that they don't do more than voice a few token protests. Plus, she's good enough at what she does – and they're so wrapped up in their drugged out fucking – that she's in and out before some of the participants even notice she's there. But, as Jack learns from her regular updates of terse “NO” and red “X” texts, she has no luck finding the cash.

Jack hadn't really expected Eleanor or Woodes Rogers to keep the cash in a random bedroom, where any horny houseguest could stumble upon it. So that just leaves the master suite – empty, what with Eleanor having taken Charles to the room that apparently serves as her bedroom cum sex dungeon, if Max's deeply - horrifyingly deeply - detailed description is to be believed. (Privately, Jack thinks Eleanor may have gotten just a little bit too invested in the whole Fifty Shades trend. But bored horny women are bored horny women, regardless of bank account balance, apparently.)

And Woodes Rogers is otherwise occupied downstairs, courtesy of the new guy, who's apparently caught his eye and is being rather badly flirted at, if the increasingly frantic texts Jack keeps getting are any indication. Jack feels bad, he really does – ok, not that bad, he'd do the same thing on purpose if Woodes Rogers was into queens. But he likes a little bit of rough - not that Jack can blame him – and the new guy seems to be doing it for him, even if he's got a pretty boy face. And this is probably the best chance they're going to get of having the house to themselves for the search. So he tells New Guy to stick it out and if Woodes Rogers starts getting too sleezy to make a break for it. They'll all meet at the rendezvous point at the kebab shop in the West End anyway, it doesn't matter if they don't all go together.

Plus, it'll help take the heat off if they just look like regular party goers instead of co-conspirators in a heist.

But Jack doesn't have a lot of extra time or attention to spare for New Guy's plight. Because Anne's struck out in the master bedroom, except for some rather tasteless but presumably expensive jewelry. And Jack's searched the study - a big, stupidly imposing room that practically screams “compensating” - and he's come up with zilch. A fucking goose egg, outside of a moving bookcase that hides a humidor. Probably Eleanor's.

So he moves on to the library, the last place the cash could reasonably be without them having to try and search the fucking basement.

It's probably the least used room in the house. Because sure, Woodes Rogers is a lawyer of some description and Eleanor an accountant. But the paraphernalia for that kind of stuff gets kept in blinding glass and steel corporate offices. This room is for impressing the impressionable. And it's absolutely stuffed to the fucking rafters with first editions of classics and entire sets of encyclopedias that Jack would bet real money have never even been opened by their current owners.

There are also several oil paintings in heavy gilt frames – perfect for hiding a wall safe. And if that doesn't reveal anything, there's always the horrifically overbearing desk situated in pride of place in front of the enormous bay windows. Jack can just see Eleanor there, sitting in the high backed antique chair like it was a throne, dispensing her version of mercy on groveling penitents.

Jack wonders if she ever made Max fuck her in that chair. That feels like something she'd be into.

And with that lovely thought, Jack turns to search the nearest painting – a drab toned portrait of a man who is presumably one of Woodes Rogers's antecedents. Blugh. But, heinous crimes committed during his life or no, he isn't the final resting place for stolen goods.

Jack turns to the next painting and the next with no more success. The final painting – one of hounds on the hunt – doesn't reveal the cash, but it does reveal some rather racy photographs of Eleanor and one of her previous lovers (neither Max nor Charles, so Jack doesn't remove them) in what is apparently Woodes Rogers's pathetic attempts at a black mail collection on his wife. It's quite sad really, so Jack just takes a snap of it for Anne – who'll undoubtedly show it to Max, who'll get a kick out of it - and moves on to the desk.

There, he strikes gold. Or cash, really. There's a hidden compartment in the bottom of the desk drawer with a lock on it – as if that could stop Jack. Or anyone with better fine motor skills than a toddler. It only takes him a few minutes and an unbent paper clip to open the catch.

And there lays the cash.

Jack signals Anne and the new guy to come help, since there's approximately a metric fuckton of it. Someone who's not Jack is going to have to practically crawl inside the desk to get it all. But they've found it, finally.

Thank Christ.

Jack starts laying bundles of cash into the bottom of his traveling case – one of those hard-sided suitcases that businessmen so love to use. And he's honestly not sure if that's going to be enough. But fortunately, the new guy had the foresight to bring a ratty backpack along and between the two bags and the three of their pockets, they get it all stowed away.

Jack texts Charles a Jolly Roger to let him know he can wrap things up with Eleanor and all that's left now is to get away clean.

Which is almost easier done than said. They walk out the door, times staggered enough that it doesn't look like they're all leaving together, and no one notices a thing. It's all very anti-climactic, honestly. The movies always make this part seem so exciting – car chases and shoot outs and etcetera. But they just walk right out the front door, completely invisible to the partiers still inside the house.

Jack leaves last, so he's only about a half block away when Charles finishes their little distraction off with a bang. They'd planned it all out – how to make it look like Eleanor had the upper hand in the breakup this time, so she wouldn't look too hard at the evening and link the theft back to Jack or Anne. How to make sure that Eleanor was left physically and emotionally satisfied enough that she never seeks Charles out for another night of fun. How to make her feel in charge and in control and like she's throwing Charles over, instead of them conning her.

And frankly, the bits Jack can hear are a masterstroke. Charles is pathetic and groveling in a way that is genuinely unappealing – but that apparently gets Eleanor's rocks off, because she's got the most self-satisfied fucking smirk on face, the one he imagines she wore the entire time Charles was in her bed. And Eleanor stands at the top of the stairs, framed by the open doorway, lauding her everything about herself over Charles as he begs her to take him back. Which she does not deign to do at all.

All the other party goers have gathered around to witness the carnage and Eleanor's not even pretending to feel sorry about making such a scene. This – this is what she's been looking for ever since Charles gave her the boot – coincidentally right before he went away on that two stretch. And she's milking her ability to get one over him in that same way for all it's fucking worth.

“We're done, Charles.”

She says it with the cold finality of a vault door swinging shut. And she sweeps back into the house, surrounded by the ranks of simpering sycophants. Leaving Charles curled into himself on the cold pavement.

[musette22]

Title: Honey, I’m Home

Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (M/M)

Rating: E (18+)

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: After two long months, Chris comes back from filming Red Sea Diving Resort in South Africa. Sebastian is waiting for him at home.

A/N: Soooo, a week or so ago we were blessed with those images of Chris looking solid and hot af in the trailer for Red Sea Diving Resort. @rainbowsandcoconut I got a little thirsty discussing how Chris and Seb’s reunion might have played out when he came back from South Africa, and then I was feeling inspired and bam, next thing you know you have another smutty fic. It’s pure PWP, tbh. Hope you guys don’t mind 😉

Warnings: explicit smut, light Dom/sub, dirty talk, slight degradation kink. It’s all in good fun though, folks.

Honey, I’m Home

Sebastian is feeling jittery; nervous and excited low-key aroused all at once, has been from the moment he opened his eyes that morning. Chris is coming home today. After two long months (two and a half, almost) he’s finally seeing his man in the flesh again, instead of through a screen. Don’t get him wrong; he’s grateful facetime exists, so fucking grateful, but it’s hardly the same as feeling Chris’s skin against his, as breathing in his scent, feeling his heartbeat, steady and comforting, against his chest. 

Nor, incidentally, is it the same as getting to suck his perfect dick, which is one of the things, along with getting railed so hard he forgets his own name, he’s had a… hard time going without these past few months.

So yeah, it’s safe to say Sebastian is excited.

He’d wanted to pick Chris up at the airport, too impatient to wait the extra hour it would take for him to make it home from LAX, but since they haven’t gone public as a couple yet, in the end that seemed like a bad idea. So instead, he’s been cooped up at home all day, making sure Chris’s house, to which he has a key, is clean and tidy. He even cooked (or, attempted to cook; he’s never been very culinarily inclined) Chris’s favorite dish, and then spent a good two hours on personal grooming so that he would look and feel his absolute best when his man finally did make it home.

When, at long last, he hears the keys in the front door, his heart starts beating faster, anticipation sending adrenaline coursing through his system. He feels keyed up, ready to pounce as soon as Chris sets foot in the room – and yet, the second the door to the living room opens and Sebastian lays eyes on Chris for the first time in almost three months, his breath catches in his throat and he freezes on the spot, unable to move a muscle.

Chris looks incredible.

The first thing that Sebastian’s eyes are drawn to is Chris’s hair, longer than usual, and lighter too. The sun-kissed strands frame his tanned face, bringing out the strong cut of his jawline, covered, as always, in that goddamn thick beard of his that makes Sebastian crave beard burn in all kinds of inappropriate places. He’s admired it before, of course, through the screen of his phone, but that was nothing compared to the impact this look has in the flesh.

And Chris’s eyes… those gorgeous, blue-green eyes are fixed on him intently, the heated look in them seeming to burn right through the carefully selected layers of clothes Sebastian is wearing. It makes him feel exposed; vulnerable, and so completely, unbearably turned on from one moment to the next that he has to bite his lip to stop from whimpering out loud.

Wordlessly, Chris drops the bag he was still shouldering, takes one, two steps in Sebastian’s direction, eyes firmly fixed on his. When he’s only a few feet away Sebastian realizes, with a sudden, ton-of-bricks kind of impact, why Chris’s presence is hitting him so hard, harder even than he anticipated.

Chris is solid.

Since the last time Sebastian has seen him, he has definitely filled out. But while it looks like he must’ve really enjoyed the local cuisine, he clearly also kept up with his workout routine. Like, really kept up. Mainly heavy lifting, if the way the muscles of his biceps and chest shift under his tight, dark grey t-shirt are anything to go by. Chris has never been a small guy, of course – hell, his incredible physique is one of the things he’s best known for – but where he used to strive for aesthetic form, for perfect definition that made him look like a young, Greek god, now, it’s all power.

He exudes strength, moves like a lion on the prowl, determined and compelling, and Sebastian can’t take his eyes off him.

For a giddy moment, he wonders if Chris could actually bench press him, but then Chris closes the final few feet of distance separating them and they’re face to face and Seb stops thinking altogether. It’s impossible, but Chris seems taller, somehow, like he’s towering over Sebastian, rooting him to the spot just with his gaze and the heat that radiates from his body.

“Hi, baby,” Chris says, his voice deep and dark, and Sebastian feels the vibrations of it all the way down to his core. It makes him shiver. Even that slightest of movements doesn’t escape Chris’s notice, makes that look in his eyes turn that bit more intense as his gaze drops to Sebastian’s mouth, then back up to his eyes again. When Chris lifts a big hand to the side of Sebastian’s face, sliding it into his hair and caressing his cheek with his thumb, Sebastian leans into the touch, sways forward into Chris and presses himself to his front.

God, he’s like a brick wall. Chris doesn’t even budge, even though Seb is pretty much leaning his full weight on him. Sebastian slides his hands up Chris’s abs, less defined now than they were once but all the more robust for it. It’s making something primal inside of Seb want to feel Chris’s solid weight on top of him, holding him down, making sure he stays exactly where Chris wants him.

Chris hums and leans closer, noses at Sebastian’s hair, at his cheek, his neck. It’s almost like he’s sniffing at him, and for a weird and wonderful moment, Seb imagines that Chris is trying to determine if Sebastian’s been good, hasn’t stepped out on him while he was away. He hasn’t, of course, would never – but the thought of Chris wondering, of him feeling jealous, possessive, sets Seb’s skin ablaze, turns his blood to molten lava under his skin.

He tilts his head, baring his neck for Chris’s inspection, and Chris presses his lips to his pulse point. They’re lush as always, soft against his skin, which makes it all the more shocking when he suddenly bites down, sharp and quick. Sebastian’s hands shoot up to Chris’s biceps and he cries out, softly, more from surprise than actual pain – especially since Chris immediately soothes the sting with his tongue, laving over the tender spot until Sebastian can’t hold back the whine that rises up in his throat. Already, he can feel his cock start to chub up inside his jeans, hips stuttering forward of their own accord as he presses his crotch against Chris’s muscled thigh. 

Chris’s left hand grips Seb’s hip, fingers digging into his flesh almost painfully, and then finally, finally, his lips drag over Sebastian’s jawline, slow and sure, until they find his.

The kiss is immediately passionate, deep and needy from the get-go, Chris’s tongue plunging into his mouth while his fingers press into his skull, tugging at his roots. A growling sound escapes Chris as he wraps his left arm around Sebastian’s torso, pulling him to closer, making Seb turn to putty in his hands. He can’t think with Chris pressed against him, all around him, his hands, his mouth, his scent, all working together to overwhelm him.

Slowly, Chris walks them backwards, keeping a firm grip on Sebastian so that he doesn’t stumble, until the backs of his thighs hit something hard and unyielding. The kitchen table. The solid contact makes Sebastian’s mind clear a little, allowing him to pull back, breaking the kiss.

“Chris,” he pants, already breathless with it, peppering kisses to his lips in between words. “Chris, I missed you. Missed you so much, god.”

“Yeah?” Chris stands tall and forbidding, simply lets Sebastian shower him in kisses without making any effort to reciprocate. “And what did you miss most, hmm?” he queries, tilting back his head to look down on Seb. “Was it my company? My conversation?”

He holds Sebastian’s gaze, eyes boring into his. “Or,” he goes on, his voice dropping even lower, “did you miss this?”

Reaching down, he grabs Sebastian’s hand and presses it against his crotch, rubbing his palm firmly along the line of his dick, already hard and heavy inside his pants.

Sebastian whimpers, eyes falling closed. “Fuck,” he breathes.

“Go on,” Chris coaxes, rolling his hips into Sebastian’s hand. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

When Sebastian just squirms, trying to push himself closer, a slow smirk spreads over Chris’s face. “But you can’t, can you?” he drawls. “You miss my cock, pretty baby? Tell me, did you play with yourself while I was away? Used your fingers and your toys, pretend it was me?”

Sebastian moans because yes, yes, that was exactly what he’d done.

Chris hums, nods his head in agreement. “Wasn’t the same though, was it, sweetheart? Not quite like the real thing. Couldn’t quite hit the spot like I can.”

Letting go of Sebastian’s hand, Chris deftly flicks open the button on Seb’s pants and pulls down the zipper, before unceremoniously shoving his hands down the back of his jeans. Sebastian, who figured their reunion would go something like this, isn’t wearing any underwear, and Chris groans as soon as he realizes. He grabs Sebastian’s ass cheeks with both hands, kneading them roughly, possessively, before pulling them apart. When he rubs the pad of his thumb over the tight pucker of Seb’s asshole, Seb stutters out a shaky breath, pushing his ass back into Chris’s firm grip, his warm, calloused hands.

“Please,” Sebastian says, imploring. “Please, Chris, I need–”

“What?” Chris demands. “What do you need, Sebastian? Tell me.”

Sebastian has no choice but to obey. “Fuck me,” he chokes out, a little desperate, too wound up to even try at playing it cool. “Just fuck me, Chris, please. Need to feel you inside me, it’s been so fucking long.”

He pushes his face into the crook of Chris’s neck, breathing in his scent – a little musky, a hint of sweat from travelling mixed with what’s left of his cologne, and god, has he missed that smell. Missed it all day, every day, but especially when he was in bed at night, imagining traces of Chris’s scent still lingered on his sheets.

The next moment, Sebastian yelps as Chris spins him around without warning, a hand on the back of his neck pushing him down, bending him down over the kitchen table. He gasps when his cheek presses against the hardwood of the tabletop, and all his blood rushes south in an instant, his dick suddenly so hard it hurts. Fuck.

“Stay there,” Chris orders, giving the back of Seb’s neck a little shake before releasing him.

Sebastian does as he’s told, hands gripping at the table’s edge as he watches Chris walk into his line of sight, towards the kitchen counter. Chris pulls open the third drawer from the top, rummages around for a second before straightening and turning back to Seb. In his hand is the bottle of lube he’d put there the last time they had sex in the kitchen, two nights before Chris left for South Africa.

“Well, well,” Chris says, his voice halfway between amused and a little menacing, causing shivers of anticipation to run down Sebastian’s spine. "And why is this still here, Sebastian?”

When Seb doesn’t reply, just bites his lip as he gazes up at him, Chris steps closer. “What?” he asks. “You just wanna make sure you had it handy for whoever came through that door? Is that how needy you are, Sebastian?” Chris cocks his head at him. “You couldn't even wait for me to come home and fuck you? Had to get what you needed from other people, did you?”

Seb opens his mouth to reply, but Chris shushes him, walking back around to stand behind him again and dropping the lube to the table. Hands tug at Sebastian’s waistband, and then Chris roughly pulls down his jeans to halfway down his thighs, exposing his ass. Without preamble, Chris spreads apart his cheeks, his thumb rubbing maddening little circles over his hole, teasing, making Seb want, before he finally pushes the tip inside. It slides in easily, even without lube – courtesy of Sebastian taking the liberty of preparing himself just a little bit, before Chris arrived.

“Would you look at that,” Chris murmurs, pushing his thumb in deeper. “Still loose from the last one, I bet. Such a needy little hole, ready to be filled by anyone, huh? Don’t care who it is, as long as you get a cock in you.”

Sebastian shakes his head frantically, pleads, “No, no, Chris, it’s just you, only you I promise,” but Chris silences him with a sharp smack to his ass. The sting of it takes Sebastian by surprise and he cries out, rocking forward, trying to get a little friction on his dick from pressing against the table’s edge.

“See, I don’t think I believe you,” Chris continues, almost taunting. “Pretty little slut like you needs it at least twice a day, isn't that right? Needs to be fucked good and proper on the regular or he can’t think straight.” He spanks Sebastian again, on the other cheek this time, and Seb can feel the heat of it, the blood rushing to the surface at the impact.

“Please, Chris, please.”

“Look at you,” Chris breathes, awed despite himself. “You need it so bad, don’t you? Pushing your ass out at me, begging me to fuck you. You’re like a bitch in heat, Sebastian.”

Shit. Chris’s words make Sebastian whine, high in his throat.

They don’t often do this, don’t always take it quite so far with the name calling, but when the mood strikes them, it sometimes just works. From the moment Chris had set foot through that door, Sebastian knew what kind of night it was going to be and he is there for it. He knows that everything Chris says is just for play, only intended to get them both hot and turned on. There is no malicious intent, no genuine distrust or jealousy, but just the suggestion of it is enough to make Sebastian so fucking hard, makes him feel dirty in a good kind of way when Chris calls him out on just how much Sebastian needs a good dicking.

And besides, it’s true. He needs it so bad sometimes it’s all he can think about. It’s a good thing Chris always knows how to give him exactly what he needs, or he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Then again, he’s pretty sure the reason he needs it so bad is because Chris always gives him what he needs. He’s been spoiled for everyone else, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Well?” Chris prompts, pressing his still clothed erection against Sebastian’s bare ass, fingers digging into either side of his hips. “Do you need it, or don’t you?”

Sebastian’s response is instinctive, immediate. “Yes,” he begs, “yeah, I need it, need your cock, Chris. Please, just – just put it��in me.” 

Chris shrugs. “Alright, then,” he says, followed by the tell-tale sound of his zipper, the rustle of fabric as he pushes down his pants far enough to take out his cock. “Wouldn’t want to deny my baby boy what he needs.”

A moment later, two big, slicked up fingers probe at Seb’s hole, pushing in unceremoniously. Sebastian gasps as Chris twists his fingers, pushing in deep and rubbing him on the inside. It feels almost clinical, almost as if he’s just determining whether he’s loose enough, and somehow, that only adds to the thrill. When a third finger is pushed in alongside the other two, Sebastian hisses. It stings, but it’s exactly the kind of sting he likes, and he needs more of it. He doesn’t want Chris to go easy on him tonight, he needs to really feel it.

“Fucking come on, Chris. Just give it to me, already,” he says, demanding, earning himself another spank for his back talking.

“I’ll give it to you when I’m good and ready,” Chris chastises him, but he’s already pulling out his fingers, lining up his cock and then pushing into him, hard and unyielding, burying himself balls-deep inside of Seb in one, long stroke.

Unbidden, Sebastian lets out a string of expletives, moaning loud and wanton, the burn intensifying as his hole is stretched around Chris’s considerable girth. Chris spanks him again, then leans forward and brings a hand to his face, shoving a few of his fingers into Sebastian’s mouth, effectively shutting him up.

“You always run your mouth like that?” he demands, knowing full well Seb can’t respond. “You know, I can think of a better use of that pretty mouth, baby. But since my cock’s already in your tight little ass right now, you’re just going to have to make do with these.”

Sebastian moans around Chris’s fingers, tonguing them, sucking hard and fervently wishing it was Chris’s dick instead. When Chris starts thrusting, hard and deep and merciless, Seb’s mouth falls open in a broken-off moan, fingers falling from his mouth. Chris pulls back his hand, straightening up and grabbing Seb’s hips again instead, holding him steady as he starts to pound into him. Sebastian pushes himself up onto his elbows on the table top, planting his feet more firmly on the ground so that he has a little more leverage against Chris’s full-body assault and pushes back against him, desperate to feel him deeper.

Immediately, Chris pushes him back down with a hand between his shoulder blades, the warmth of his palm burning through Seb’s thin shirt. He’s ungentle about it, holding him down forcefully, and Sebastian pushes back, struggling just enough to see how Chris will react. Under his breath, Chris calls him a brat before he shoves him down again, even more roughly this time, really bearing his weight down on him as his hips keep snapping forward. Sebastian hears himself make an embarrassing, involuntary sound in the back of his throat, but god, he fucking loves the feeling of not being able to move unless Chris lets him. Loves knowing that Chris is capable of holding him down easily, making him take it like he’s doing right now.

Chris rucks up Sebastian’s t-shirt, bunching it up under his armpits to expose his bare back. For a moment, Seb gets to revel in the cooler air that hits his overheated skin, and then Chris firmly runs both his hands up and down his back, from his shoulder blades all the way down to the swell of his ass. He digs his fingers in, giving the firm flesh a squeeze before pulling his cheeks apart as he keeps on fucking into him, setting a punishing rhythm. By now, the burn has given way to that feeling of fullness that Sebastian craves so much, and for the first time in months, he feels like he’s whole again, like his missing piece has been slotted back into place and everything is going to be alright. Chris will take care of him, will always have his back – quite literally, in this case.

Nevertheless, Sebastian wouldn’t be Sebastian if he didn’t try to push for more. Chris would expect nothing less from him.

“Harder,” he pants. “C’mon, give it to me harder.” Just like he expected, Chris spanks him again for his impertinence, and despite the fact that his ass is on fire, Seb is elated.

“Please,” he tries, entreating now. “Please, Chris.”

“God, you’re a greedy boy, aren’t you?” Chris growls, bending over him to whisper his next words directly into his ear. “Nothing’s ever enough for a dirty little whore like you.”

Sebastian moans, eyes rolling back into his skull, while Chris buries a hand in his hair and pulls. Automatically, Seb arches up, trying to alleviate the sting, but with Chris’s other hand firmly pushing down on his ass, still, there’s not much he can do. Then, Chris changes the angle of his thrusts just a little bit and suddenly Sebastian is seeing stars, white-hot bursts of pleasure radiating out from his loins through his entire body.

He shouts, and when Chris punches forward and nails Sebastian’s prostate once again, Seb realizes he’s done for. Chris is like a pitbull when he gets like this; when he sets his sights on something, relentlessly pursuing his goal and not giving up until he gets what he wants. And what he wants right now, Sebastian knows, is for Seb to come untouched – just from Chris’s perfect dick in his ass, hitting the spot over and over again until he breaks. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s fucking special. Chris adores it, loves that he can make his baby boy come just by dicking him down so good. It’s a primal thing, Sebastian’s pretty sure.

Still, it’s intense, and when the pleasure that swells up inside him starts getting almost too much to bear, keeping him on the brink without the easy release brought about by a hand or a mouth, Sebastian needs to come so badly that he tries to snake a hand between his stomach and the table top, inching towards his own dick.

He should’ve known that Chris was never going to let him.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” Chris says in a rough voice, yanking Seb’s hand back up and grabbing his other one as well for good measure, keeping Sebastian’s wrists locked behind his back in one large hand of his own. The scratch of the fabric of Chris’s jeans against Seb’s bare ass, sore from the spanking he received, stings every time Chris thrusts into him – but really, the pain just serves to make the pleasure that much more intense, balancing him on the knife’s edge of just enough and too much.

Chris is really laying into him now, using all of that incredible, weight-honed core strength of his to fuck Sebastian the way he craves to be fucked, and Sebastian starts to whimper, needing to come so badly he can taste it in his mouth. He just needs that little bit more…

As if he can read his mind, Chris pushes a hand up Seb’s spine, skating over the back of his neck before sliding it around his throat, and, oh fuck.

Slowly, deliberately, Chris’s fingers tighten, pressing down lightly on his windpipe, and Sebastian keens. “More,” he rasps, and Chris obliges, pressing down harder, virtually cutting off Seb’s air supply while his thumb digs into his pulse point.

With a choked-off cry, Sebastian goes tense all over, mind whiting out from the combination of struggling for air and Chris slamming into his prostate relentlessly, and then he’s coming, coming so hard the world disappears around him, knowing nothing but the mind-blowing pleasure that consumes him, wave after wave of it as Chris fucks him through his orgasm, in pursuit of his own. It doesn’t take long, with Seb clenching around his dick like a vice, until Chris is groaning, burying himself inside Sebastian one last time before stilling, filling him up with his release.  

Even with his stamina, it takes Chris a little while to recover. In the silence that follows their climax, Sebastian can feel him pressed against his back, heart racing and breathing hard. Seb doesn’t mind – on the contrary. He can’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than draped over Chris’s kitchen table, with Chris inside and on top of him, his solid weight a comforting presence, assuring him that he’s really back, really here to stay – at least for a little while.

Chris stirs eventually, brings up a hand and buries it in Seb's hair again. Tugging lightly, he pulls his head around so he can kiss him over his shoulder. It's an inelegant angle, meaning they mostly end up licking into each other’s mouths without finesse, and Chris’s hair falls into his eyes, tickling the bridge of his nose. Sebastian’s not complaining though; he’s just so fucking glad to taste Chris again. He moans in relief as Chris scrapes his fingers gently over his scalp, massaging out the tenderness caused by the earlier hair pulling.

Chris finally pulls back, quickly reaching for a cloth on the side of the counter to wipe Sebastian clean. Once he’s helped Sebastian up, he spins him around in his arms, gazing down at him. There’s pure adoration on his features, and Seb lifts up a hand to Chris’s forehead to brush aside a strand of his hair, longer now than his own. It’s a strange sensation, but he kind of likes it.

“Welcome home, honey," Seb murmurs, still sounding a little dazed. They look at each other for a few moments – until Chris suddenly lets out a half-snort. There’s a beat of silence, and then Sebastian’s eyes widen, right before he dissolves into giggles. Within seconds, they’re both laughing so hard they collapse, half naked and filthy, on the kitchen floor together, all tangled up in each other. It’s ridiculous, and it’s the happiest, freest Sebastian can remember feeling in a long while.

When they’ve finally calmed down a bit, Chris sits up, resting his back against a table leg, with Sebastian curled up between his thighs. Seb leans into his wide, sturdy chest, and Chris wraps his arms around him, burying his nose in Seb’s hair, breathing in deeply.

“I missed you too, baby,” he says, belatedly, his voice warm and soft and loving now that they’ve gotten their basest instincts somewhat under control.

Seb smiles against Chris’s collarbone. “I kind of figured that.”

“Damn. What gave me away?” Chris asks, straight-faced, and Sebastian dissolve into giggles once more. 

Man, it’s good to be home.

[xpouii]

Tentacletober Day 19

Yes it’s late! Yes I skipped Day 18! Yes I’m very tired lol. This day is a sequel to Day 12--which is a sequel to Day 9. SO if you want to read the full series from the start, 9 then 12 then 19!

Prompt: Protective Tentacles

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Logan, Roman, Virgil, Remus

Warnings/Tags: SFW, Swearing, sleep issues, sleep deprivation, mentioned bulimia, mentioned seizures, mentioned hallucinations, mentioned sleepwalking, drug use, prescription medicine abuse, kissing, fainting, brief mentions of therapy, hospital stay and psychiatric evaluation. General apathy and sympathetic Remus

               Logan grabbed the doorknob and heard the maid shout his name; he winced and turned, “Sarah, I really don’t have time to-“

               She held up the dropper with a look of longsuffering. Logan opened his mouth and took the drops of CBD oil under his tongue before rushing out the door. He spat into the bushes, taking a sip of water and rinsing out his mouth as he crossed the large lawn, punching in the code to open the gate as he spat again. He climbed onto the bus and sat down, taking out his phone and checking the school’s portal. Mr. Stevenson still hadn’t graded the Calculus exams, and Logan grit his teeth, shoving his phone into his pocket. Even though his parents would never ask, Logan liked to have his grades updated and ready to show them when they came in on Wednesdays for dinner. He was starting to feel slowed, and he checked the time, firing off a text to Roman as he swallowed his last stashed Adderall, hoping his friend would have more today.

               Logan had a schedule, just enough Adderall to last him until Wednesday, then he’d leave his new batch in his locked cello case until Thursday when his parents would no longer be home all evening and search his room. Then he hauled the cello home for his weekend lessons and used the school loaner on Friday. His mother would bring him on Monday mornings so he could bring the cello back and store it in the band room. Or Tuesday, if his mother was busy with meetings, like this week. Anytime Roman didn’t manage to palm enough Adderall—which was often—Logan would turn to the three other rich kids with prescriptions that were willing to sell—or trade for pot; Logan would take several pills a day, as many as it took to keep withdrawals at bay, unless he actually managed to run out. Logan’s parents were scientists, but his mother had gone on a natural medicine kick when the therapists had given up. So now he had a weed card, and a mother obsessed with monitoring his sleep—very unnecessarily. Logan had done plenty of research on the best ways to skip sleep, and other than days when his parents—or the maid—would watch him to make sure he didn’t spit out his treatments, or when his mother decided to try some new pot baked goods or when his father would smoke with him in some odd attempt to make Logan feel like they were bonding as men.

               As infuriating as that was, it didn’t hold a candle to the way his mother would wail and beg him to sleep on the weekends. Ever since his first seizure she had been insufferable, unbearable in her smothering. Logan tried to be more careful now, keeping track of the Adderall and the CBD and the caffeine and the sleep he’d actually given in to. The seizures had been the first symptom of critical systems failure, but certainly not the worst. The hallucinations were bad, auditory worse than visual because Logan had a harder time dismissing them. Worst of all were the episodes where he’d black out, but his body would keep going. He’d broken through his bedroom window and rolled off the roof, falling down and cracking his left shoulder. Thank god for your mom’s azalea bushes! Sarah had shouted at him, watching him writhe in pain in the grass. The time he’d managed to scare her had been his most frightening time as well.

              Logan had come to in the kitchen with a knife in his hand. Sarah was curled on the floor between the island and the oven, screaming for him to stop with the kitchen phone in her hand. He dropped the knife and started crying. He wanted to go to her for comfort. Sarah had raised him, after all, and Logan was six before he’d finally learned not to call her mommy. He was the monster, though, the bad thing he was scared of—and she was even more scared than he was. So, he turned around and went to his room, crying at his desk until the police and paramedics showed up. He’d spent a week in the hospital under strict psychiatric observation then. Logan had slept for 36 hours straight, and woken up with tears in his eyes. Both of his parents had been there, the whole time, and even now Logan’s heart would tighten at the warmth of the memory, waking up to their hugs and kisses and smiles.

              Logan was pulled out of his nostalgia when his phone pinged. His mother’s contact photo popped up on his phone over the text Have a good day, sweetie! See you tonight! I’m making dessert!

              Logan’s lip curled and he quickly checked his homework schedule, moving things around. His mother would definitely dose him tonight, which meant he’d sleep, and run behind. He would have exactly three hours from arriving home until his parents came in for dinner at 7 pm sharp. He could finish almost all of his homework, but the extra credit for Calculus 3 would have to wait until Thursday evening, pushing back his homework he planned to finish early in order to take a few hours off to watch Nasa’s livestream of the upcoming meteor shower. He swore under his breath. He hated missing the livestreams, especially when his parents would be bothering him about watching it. He wanted to, but he couldn’t fathom it now.

              He jumped when the bus stopped short and he had to throw out his hand to save his face from hitting the seat in front of him. He straightened his glasses and scowled up at the man in the mirror. Behind him a rowdy pair of girls started shouting obscenities, blaming the driver for interrupting their impromptu makeup session. Logan rolled his eyes, reminded of Roman and Virgil. The thought of his friends brought a genuine smile to his face. Although Logan was put on edge by the mere thought of sex, romance or—god forbid—love, he did wonder when his friends would admit their feelings for one another. Even his own mother had noticed their shameless heart eyes for one another during their last concert. Logan had tried to stop her from calling Virgil’s dads, but the woman never listened to him no matter how loudly he shouted. It was one of the biggest reasons Logan didn’t bother getting angry anymore, especially with his parents; it accomplished nothing and it wasted precious energy.

              A jab to the back of his head made him turn around, that well-hidden anger bubbling to the surface, but it dulled when he saw two of his usual suppliers had moved to the seat behind him. He glanced back to the usually inattentive driver and then dug in his backpack, producing the small parcels he usually divided his stash into for economical reasons. He set two between his feet and nudged them backwards, his eyes glued on the driver. A second later, the parcels were replaced with a pill bottle and he grabbed it, taking visual inventory of the total pills inside before shoving it into his backpack and zipping it. The two boys did the same, disappearing back into the proverbial crowd. The school was two stops away, and Logan had already gone back to calculating his homework time, and whether it would be worth skipping lunch or not. He decided against it—Roman probably wouldn’t eat, and Logan usually tried to get extra food for him at lunch, passing it to him during band and hoping Roman could end up trapped long enough to actually absorb some nutrients before purging everything again. It usually didn’t work, but sometimes the director was in a bad mood and he’d make Roman wait. Logan knew manipulating friends was technically wrong, but guilt wasn’t really something he participated in.

                 The hours went by fairly quickly until lunch; Roman had another Adderall for him and he saved it, swallowing it during third period Calculus when he decided to try and cram his extra credit in between taking lecture notes. Unlike the day before, Roman and Virgil attended lunch rather than smoking in the parking lot. Roman got a salad and a water while Virgil and Logan went for the cheeseburgers that were probably not made from actual meat, but they tasted brown, and they had cheese on them, and that was enough. They sat down at their table—avoided by most of the other students due to Logan’s snippiness. He was halfway through his food when Virgil choked on a bite, “Jesus L! Is that your heartbeat?”

               Logan looked down where his heartbeat was causing his shirt to tremble in time, a bit elevated, but not that bad for him. He scowled and moved his drink—a large canned energy drink—in front of him, “What about-what are you doing?!”

               Virgil had stood and pressed two fingers to the pulse point on Logan’s neck, “Hold still and be quiet.” He watched his phone timer until it beeped, “Two hundred bpm!”

               “No it isn’t,” Roman said, standing up to check.

               Logan sat sullenly as they double and then triple-checked their results, “It really is two hundred. Logan that’s too fast!” Virgil said. “When’s the last time you had an Adderall?”

               Logan opened his mouth, but he couldn’t remember, so he scoffed, “Stop overreacting. It’s no big deal anyway.”

               His throat was dry, and he tried to clear it, taking a slow swallow of his energy drink and waving them off. “Logan maybe you shouldn’t be-“

               “Just shut up, Roman!” Logan sniped, then he closed his mouth and pinched his nose shut, trying to force air out of his lungs. After twenty seconds, Logan moved his hand and let out a long, slow breath, smiling, “There, nothing a vagal maneuver can’t fix. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve lost my appetite.”

               Logan stood up and—without any warning—fainted.

                 Logan winced against the bright overhead lights, trying to blink away the blurriness, but he didn’t have his glasses. He could hear voices, distant and muddled. ”…-es, ma’am. His two friends are beside themselves. If it’s going to be a while would you mind if th… alright. Yes ma’am he’s asleep now, but unfortunately I can’t administer anything you haven’t given me here… CBD oil? No Mrs. Berry we don’t… yes ma’am I’ll tell him.”

              Logan squeezed his eyes closed as the curtain around his cot rustled and the nurse checked on him. “I know you’re awake, Mr. Berry. Your mother said your friends could come and sit with you until she gets here. The band director already gave them a pass. Feel like visitors?”

              Logan nodded, “’s bright.”

              “That’s what happens when you do whatever shit you’re doing and then wake up with a hangover in the nurse’s office,” the nurse said. “But, I’ll turn half the lights off. Just try not to get rowdy some of us still have to work.”

              Logan sighed, but he did smile a bit when the lights went out, only to jump as Virgil and Roman crowded in beside him, “Fuck, Logan you scared the shit out of me!” Virgil scolded.

              “How are you feeling?” Roman asked.

               “Mom’s on the way,” he rasped.

               “I got it,” Roman said. “I already took it all out of your bag.”

               Logan looked to see the nurse, but her desk was empty and she was standing in the hallway. Virgil glanced over, “She didn’t hear y-“

               “Give me one,” Logan said.

               Virgil shook his head, “Logan no fucking way! You just fainted!”

               Logan squeezed his eyes shut, “Please, I’m gonna have to go all week… maybe longer, please! Roman? Please?”

               Roman glanced at the nurse, then pulled the curtain, fumbling in his jacket pocket.

               “No!” Virgil hissed as Roman pulled out the bottle and offered it to Logan.

               “I c-can’t swallow it,” Logan said thickly. “Not whole.”

               Roman met Virgil’s eyes and ignored his expression of horrified disappointment. He popped two of the pills into his mouth and chewed it, wincing at the taste—though it was nothing compared to the things that he tasted on any given day. He gathered as much saliva as he could and then bent over Logan, pressing their lips together. Logan wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck to hold him in place, and he licked the Adderall out of Roman’s mouth like a dying man. The kiss was slow at first, mechanical, but it became something else as they stayed close, and soon Virgil was checking the nurse’s whereabouts again as the other two made out, Roman letting out little pleasant moans against Logan’s lips.

               Virgil cleared his throat loudly when the nurse returned, and Roman straightened, fixing his shirt. Logan closed his eyes again and waited for the meds to kick in a bit more. “How long til she gets here?”

               “Nurse said an hour,” Logan said. “Or that’s what I think she said. Mom’s got clinical trials today so it’s not something she can just leave.”

               “They should have sent you to a hospital, not left you here with your dealer,” Virgil growled, glaring daggers at Roman.

               Roman sighed as he pocketed the pills, “Look, I’ll keep these in my bag until I get to come see you, ok? Then I’ll leave them behind that loose siding under your window. Just don’t be stupid. Maybe this is a good opportunity to quit.”

               Logan wanted to argue, but his lips were still kiss swollen and the taste of Adderall soothed him, so he just nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

               “I love you,” Roman said, lifting Logan’s hand to kiss it, then he ducked out.

               “He’s just as bad as you are,” Virgil said. “For enabling you like that. I can’t stand it, Logan. I can’t stand what you two do to each other.”

               “Are you jealous?” Logan asked; his words were cold, but so was he, and the last thing he needed was a lecture.

               Virgil winced, “Fuck this,” he muttered. He turned and pushed the curtain out of the way, leaving the office—and Logan—in buzzing silence.

                 Logan woke up on Friday, late in the evening. His parents were home, judging from the voices downstairs, and he could remember faded scenes with them over the past two days. He’d missed school, missed band practice, missed the meteor shower and—judging from the raging head and body ache—enough Adderall to start withdrawal. He sighed and slid to the edge of the bed, sneaking over to his window. He’d just reached to open it when something grabbed his ankle in the dark, pulling him. He hit the carpet and was dragged, scrabbling uselessly at the carpet until suddenly he was on his stomach on smooth, cold stone. He squinted in the low light as he stumbled to his feet, until someone—or something—handed him his glasses. He quickly put them on and found himself standing in front of a stranger, “Hello?”

               “He was finally awake!”

               Virgil and Roman stepped out into the light and Logan took half a step back, “I’ve never hallucinated these two before,” he muttered to himself.

               “We aren’t hallucinations, Logan,” Roman said. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up all week.”

               “I didn’t really get the chance to tell you about Remus because you fainted at school and… well I took off. But he’s my friend.”

               “Our friend,” Roman said. “He’s been keeping us up all night pretty regularly. You should love him.”

               “By the way,” Remus said. “Whatever they have you on, those brownies are delicious. I stole five while waiting for you to wake up.”

               Virgil rolled his eyes but it was an affectionate gesture, “Glad to see you again, L. I’m… sorry I… whatever, I’m sorry.”

               Logan opened his mouth but Virgil stepped forward and hugged him, and as soon as Logan felt him, he knew he wasn’t hallucinating. “Virgil… I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have-“

               “Yeah what did you say to him?” Roman asked. “He was mad the whole night!”

               “Mind your business,” Logan said when Virgil’s cheeks turned red. “So um… Remus, huh? What is he?”

               “No idea,” Virgil said. “A monster from under my bed, but he said he can get us into the amusement park through the staff emergency sleeping quarters.”

               “Theoretically,” Roman reminded.

               “Close enough!” Remus said, clapping his hands together. “So, Logan, would you like to come on some potentially life threatening rides with us, without any security or safety measures taken?”

               Logan smiled when Virgil nudged him, “I guess so, as long as I don’t break my glasses.”

[bookish-nerd9]

At Long Last: Chapter 4

Despite himself Andrew woke up excited for today’s meeting with Neil, he kept replaying the events of the previous day; Neil pouring over the books hair falling in his eyes, auburn hair that Andrew itched to touch and see how it felt between his fingers. The intent focus he had when he was explaining something complicated to Andrew that he perfectly understood but making it hard for Neil was kind of fun, and if Andrew forgot to mention the fact that he had photographic memory and he only needed things to be properly explained just once well who was to blame him!.

Then there was the unexpected trip to the Waffle House, Andrew didn’t plan on taking Neil there or anywhere else for that matter but he found that he wanted to spend more time with him and to get to know him a bit better, that’s why before he could stop himself he suggested going there and the baffled and excited look on Neil’s face was totally worth it.

Getting dressed never took Andrew long but for some reason today he sat shirtless after his shower just staring at his forearms the ugly red slashes staring right back at him as if in mockery, and right then a rogue idea crossed his mind “what would Neil think if he saw them and knew why he did that to himself?”. At that Andrew shook himself and got dressed quickly “stupid” he told himself “so fucking stupid actually, get it together Minyard”, he kept repeating this to himself as he made his way out of his room to look for some breakfast and to his unpleasant surprise everyone was up and about their business already.

Heading for the coffee pot avoiding making eye contact with anyone, waking up in a pleasant mood really made him angry and he wasn’t in the mood to make niceties with anyone today, not that he ever was.

“Did you come by the court last night? I think I saw your car, and what are you doing dropping Neil off? How do you know each other? Why didn’t you come in aren’t you going to grace us again with your presence in the court? You know we need you Andrew”

This apparently was Kevin’s way of saying good morning and Andrew was already starting to get a headache from the bombard of questions. As a way of replying Andrew stared Kevin down and dropped an unceremonious amount of sugar in his coffee.

“Look I’m just saying if you’re going to come to court anyway why not come in for a bit even just to observe the new goalkeeper.” Kevin pushed on.

“Drop it Kevin.” Andrew warned with a glare that ought to shut him up.

“Well someone is in a particular merry mood today.” Nick snickered as he made his way to the kitchen.

Without replying to any of them Andrew grabbed his stuff and headed out because god forbids him being able to enjoy a perfect cup of coffee in piece. He didn’t have to meet up with Neil until later that day after his classes so he waited for Renee outside her room as he always did to go about their day together.

“Morning Andrew” Renee greeted him with the ever sweet smile she always had that never stopped to baffle him, “Renee” he greeted her back with two fingers to his temple in salute as she fell into step beside him, this was easy and familiar to him Andrew never had a problem knowing Renee or letting her know him she was the only person other than Bee who knew everything about him and strangely that sat very well with Andrew.

“So how was your first session with Neil?” she asked with a smile that now had a hint of mischief in it.

“Don’t start with me Renee.”

“What! I’m not starting anything I really want to know, I also want to know how the infamous Andrew Minyard with his photographic memory needs any tutoring at all.” She said with a chuckle, Andrew really couldn’t argue or discourage Renee as he does any other person so he begrudgingly said

“It was fine, I understood everything thanks to that little math wiz, and I need tutoring because you know perfectly well that our beloved professor already has a foot in the grave and can’t form a whole sentence, honestly how you understand anything from him is beyond me.”

“Oh don’t be mean he’s cute” she said laughing; they kept at it until they reached the lectures hall and they went their separate way.

The rest of the day passed in a blur until Andrew was seated in the library waiting for Neil who was late again! As Andrew pulled out his phone to text him Neil made his way slowly to where Andrew sat but something was different about him the way he moved and held himself was all wrong as if he was trying so hard and failing to disappear into himself and as Neil stood right in front of Andrew he was sure something was really wrong, Neil was more disheveled than he normally is with deep dark circles under his too red eyes that didn’t seem to be able to focus in one place and Andrew knew that look all too well, the look of someone scouring the place looking for all the exists and possible escape routes.

Andrew waited as Neil heavily dropped in the chair next to him and started pulling his things out of his ridiculous duffle bag, “you look terrible” Andrew said; it took Neil a moment to focus on Andrew and process what he said “umm yeah thanks I have a mirror, let’s just get started” Neil retorted.

They spent the next hour tripping over the material that they were supposed to go through Neil couldn’t seem to focus every now and then his eyes would wonder looking for someone or something that wasn’t there and he would flinch at every little sound around them.

“Alright stop! That’s enough for today” Andrew said flipping the books closed and shoving the notes aside.

“Wait what! Why??”

“Well there is clearly something wrong and I’m not wasting my time like that so you either tell me what the fuck is wrong with you today Josten or we leave now.”

Neil said nothing he only looked down his hands and started tapping his leg furiously, “well fine we’re leaving then come on.”

Neil stuffed hiss stuff back in the duffle and headed out without waiting for Andrew who was now jogging after him to catch up to him “and where do you think you’re going?” Andrew asked Neil’s back.

“Well what do you want huh, what the fuck do you want Andrew, my performance isn’t up to your standards today so I’m leaving report me if you want or do whatever you want, I don’t care just don’t push me not today.” That took Andrew by surprise and in that minute Neil started moving, again Andrew caught up to him, “god Andrew what do you want!?”

“Nothing you’re headed to the dorms right, well so am I” and with that they walked in silence until they reached Neil’s room and before he could reach out to open the door Andrew stopped him “there’s something that might help I think come.”

Begrudgingly Neil followed him as he made his way up the stairs until they reached the roof, Andrew nudged the door open and stepped inside with Neil following hesitantly after him “Is that even legal?” Neil asked but Andrew only shrugged as he reached behind the door for something that Neil found out that it was a bottle of wine, a very expensive one.

Andrew sat at the ledge with his legs swinging on the side of the building and Neil followed suite, they sat like that for a while none of them talking and just looking at the sun dipping and bathing the campus in its warm golden afternoon light.

“Thanks for bringing me here it’s beautiful, and umm sorry about before I’m really having a bad day” Neil broke their silence.

“Don’t”

“Don’t what!!”

“Say that “sorry” don’t say it I hate that word”

“Well umm thanks still, it’s beautiful up here how did you come by it?”

“Same as the Waffle House, was looking for someplace quiet and here I am.”

They fell quite again gazing out at the campus and then Andrew said “well I guess it’s my turn now”

Neil looked at him a moment too long and Andrew was shocked by the intensity of Neil’s too blue eyes then said “what do you mean?” Andrew rolled his eyes and answered “our deal remember? Question for question!”

“Oh yeah right, well shoot”

“What’s wrong with you?” “but don’t ask me what’s wrong” they both said at the same time and Neil laughed for the first time today and his face lit up which made Andrew want to punch him in his too handsome face.

“Okay fair enough, how about ummmmm, why are you keeping that hideous thing you call a cat?”

Neil chuckled and said “Well I found kitten as I was headed to the dorms, he was this tiny little fur ball abandoned near the building soaked and shivering from the rain and the whimpering sound he was making really undid me, and he’s not hideous kitten is magnificent you know.”

Andrew blinked at him several times then said “You’re telling me you called him kitten that’s not a name you know!”

“Why does everyone keep saying that, it’s a perfectly good name that describes him well, he is a kitten after all.” Neil retorted.

“For someone who’s good with math you are unexpectedly dim witted Josten.” Neil looked at him and started saying something but right then a car’s engine backfired and Neil flinched soo hard at the sound he must’ve pulled a muscle.

Andrew looked him over body taught, hand gripping the ledge too tightly that his knuckles turned white, frantic eyes looking around for the source of the sound and breath coming in short heavy pants. He thought this isn’t working at all he meant to bring Neil here in order for him to unwind a bit, so without really thinking what he was doing he hooked his finger in Neil’s collar and tugged until Neil finally looked at him and the look Neil gave him sucked the breath from his lungs, he looked like a wounded animal looking for shelter, his eyes kept roving Andrew’s face and after a minute he started to relax as if he found what he was looking for in Andrew which was completely and utterly stupid Andrew thought.

“Come on we’re leaving” Andrew said and dragged Neil up with him finger still hooked in his collar.

“Where are we going?”

“Just come!”

They made their way outside and rode the Maserati, he drove in silence which he didn’t mind, for once no one needed to fill the silence and Andrew loved that. Soon they reached the exy court and Andrew asked “Do you have your keys?”

It took Neil a second to get what he was saying but as he looked out at the court he nodded to Andrew.

“Well come on then we’re not staying in the car obviously.”

They headed inside and as they reached the lockers Andrew told Neal to change as he headed for the court to wait for him, but why was he doing that, what is it about Neil that makes Andrew wants to know him, spend time with him, and above all comfort him when he’s in this state, to tell him that it’s okay, he’s safe and he won’t let anything happen to him, that he was willing to share his demons if only Neil wouldn’t run away if he saw Andrew’s.

As Neil came out and made his way towards Andrew who was lying on the floor with the exy racquet cradled on his chest he said “Now what? Why are we here?”

Andrew got up lazily and headed for the goal where he took his position and said “Try to score one goal and you get to ask me two questions.”

Neil raised his eyebrow in disbelief “you know that I will win right, I mean you must keep up with the matches.”

Andrew tapped the racquet twice against the floor and said “Bring it on Josten.”

They played for a full hour Neil trying and failing miserably to make one pathetic score against Andrew who defended the goal without breaking a sweat. After what must’ve been the two hundredth attempt Neil threw his racquet and lay on the floor, Andrew came over and hovered above Neil, from this angle with Neil sprawled on the floor, face flushed and hair sticking up every which way Andrew felt the need of kissing him, feeling Neil’s lips on his, would they be as full as they look? How would Neil taste like? What if he bit them what would Neil do. Instead he swallowed and said “Giving up already Josten tsk, what a shame.”

“God I hate you Minyard”

“Well good, I hate you too.”

Neil smiled a dazzling smile and Andrew allowed himself to flop down next to him. This close Andrew was itching to lean just a little bit forward to kiss Neil instead he turned his head and fixed his eyes heavenwards.

“I guess it’s my turn now” Andrew didn’t answer which Neil took as a sign for him to ask,

“Why did you stop playing exy”

“Ugh soo predictable Josten”

“Well I want to know and it’s my turn and it’s not like I asked you about your arm bands.” Sensing Andrew tensing about that last part he added quickly “and I will not I promise not unless you want to talk about them I swear.”

Andrew looked at him really hard eyes glaring which no doubt Neil interpreted as him wanting to punch Neil but not for mentioning his arm bands it was because he respected him to not ask about which was what Andrew bracing himself to be asked but nooo! He had the audacity to understand what the word privacy meant and actually respect it when no one else around Andrew seemed able to get their petty little heads around the concept.

“you’re an Idiot Josten, I stopped playing because I don’t care enough to play, I had a deal with Kevin and in order to honor it I had to play, now it’s done and I don’t play”

“Then why come here tonight when you clearly hate it?” Neil pushed

“First off I don’t hate it I just don’t care and secondly apparently being around you makes people stupid as well so here we are.” Neil smiled that sweet dizzying smile again and Andrew really wanted to wipe it off of his face, preferably with his own mouth, “good god you’re losing it Minyard” he told himself.

“Let’s go I’m not sleeping here, go change I will wait in the car”

In less than five minutes Neil was done and sitting in the car and they headed back in silence which neither of them seemed to mind. Andrew walked Neil to his room where Neil hesitated a minute before he turned on Andrew and lifted his hand as if to hold Andrew’s but thought better of it and said “thank you, really you helped, I don’t know if you meant to or not I mean I think you did but I don’t want to be presumptuous so thank you, I …I mean it really.”

“You’re an idiot Josten” that made Neil smile and not for the first time today nor the last Andrew suspected he felt like kissing that smile off of Neil’s face.

“Next time don’t be late or your kitten will pay the price” Andrew said as he walked away but not before he heard Neil’s laughter around him even after he made it to his room.

“Well, what a good fucking job Minyard, you’re screwed” he told himself as he flopped down on bed with blazing blue eyes imprinted in his mind.

Here is chapter 3

[bl-umlaut-d]

My mother’s boyfriend

I would like to tell this in order to finally work through it.

I am a gay male and I was fortunate enough to never really having had to deal with discrimination (I mean, I did, but not because of my sexuality, but that’s a different story). Once my grandmother was worried about what would happen if I told my father - I told him and he was basically just: “Great, you won’t have to deal with women!” We are now estranged because he tried to rob me, but again, different story.

After the divorce my mother found a boyfriend. A traditional man from the only real deeply catholic region in Thuringia. We never quite got along that well, but well enough I presumed. He is the kind of man who never NEVER assumes he could be in the wrong. I sometimes cried because of him. I am the type of guy to look for the fault and guilt in myself first before anything else, so that always went... not so well for me. It didn’t help that I am a rather emotional person with severe complexes. One time, he got annoyed that someone hung the shower curtain on the wrong side and faulted me because I had forgotten to switch sides before. He got loud and I have had a mentally not great time, so I cried and got angry that he always blamed me. As I went to my room he came running after me, now REALLY shouting about how pathetic I am, how I dare cry at the ripe old age of 16, and how I would have to take away the 1. Right after that my older brother admitted he did it. He came in my room while I wanted to be alone, smiling and just joking about how he was sorry, but after all, it was usually me, so he was right to assume that. That’s an example of how it went.

I always basically just went sorry, then it went back to “normal”.

Another time he decided that we (my mother, my brother and me) should spend Christmas with his family. And of course we should go to church with him on the day after christmas eve. I dared to ask wether or not they would sing there, like they did in the movies all the time. He got angry again, because apparently he had talked about it for the whole weekend. I can’t remember that, if anything, he said it like, twice. May I add that I have epilepsy and wasn’t on medication at that time? I provenly have moments were my brain just blacks out for like a few seconds if I don’t take my medication which I only started taking about two or three years later. So that always helps. Anyway, he basically told me to just not come with them, because he just wants to enjoy church with my mom, who never cared about religion. Because I dared to ask, if they would sing. IF I MIGHT ADD, after he in the car got actually annoyed that on the radio they were talking about an app for christmas songs. He got angry, that people didn’t just know songs. “You either know christmas songs or you don’t”, ‘cause his god forbid people want to find new songs for some holiday. I still went, because my mother almost cried, even though I just wanted to walk through his stupid small town while they went - I mean, if I didn’t, he would be even more annoyed. If he says, if you don’t agree, go away and you actually leave, OF COURSE you are at fault. With him you always are.

Cut to the first christmas after I left university - my old room became my brother’s room (older than me, still living with my mother and him at the time, despite already working and earning a lot of money) while his old room became the new bedroom for my mother and her boyfriend. I had to sleep on a matress on the living room floor. Just for context. We got into a fight about something again, can’t remember what. Come evening, I go for a walk alone through my old neighbourhood, listening to some podcast on my phone or whatever. I come back like one or two hours later. Boyfriend and my mother are in the kitchen, eating dinner. I come in, he stands up, leaves and while doing that shouts at me “You did it, NOW YOU DID IT WITH YOUR STUPID IDEAS!” I asked my mother after that what that was about. She told me: I had told her that I didn’t miss these situations. She mentioned it to him.

I left the next morning, didn’t say good bye.

I visited my grandma in my hometown a few months later. She talked me into going to my mother for  tea. He came later and just told me that it one “doesn’t just leave without saying goodbye, but that’s enough of that”. So yeah, still all on me, I guess. Also symptomatic, because whenever he doesn’t want to talk about something anymore, the subject is over and if you bring it up again, you guessed it, he get’s angry because how dare you. My grandma got as annoyed with him as I. I didn’t say anything, I can’t mentally and emotionally deal with big confrontations and whenever we got in one, my mother is on the verge of tears because she “loves us both”. I can’t imagine that being easy.

Cut to christmas 2019, the story I want to tell. I basically got talked into coming by my grandma, I could stay with my brother instead of sleeping on the floor again (he has his own flat now). I originally didn’t even want to come, but, you know - grandmas. My brother has depression and is a man who just hates other people. The whole time in his flat was just me being made to feel even more unwanted than I already do always. I wanted to leave early, I had a small break down and called my mother. She insisted on me staying. I came and slept at her house, this time they had what was basically a guest bed I could sleep in. It all went well, i cooked for them once, but again, he was just... always right. But it went well to a degree. On the first christmas day my grandpa came to visit and we did the most christmas-y thing you can. Sitting infront of the TV. The day after Tomorrow comes on and of course he takes that as an opportunity to complain about teenagers who try to be active against climate change. I wanted to defend myself and the generation and it escalated and it all peaked in him telling me that my stupid generation can’t read anymore, despite him shouting at me because I used a four-syllable word in front of him. I had never met someone who actually fit the boomer-stereotype before.He got angry at me even more because I had been on my phone most of the time - THE MAN who thought it would be a good idea TO JUST WATCH TV ON CHRISTMAS - because, yeah, that’s so much better.

He told me, if I couldn’t take his criticism to just leave. SO I got my luggage and went to leave. He got even angrier and shouted at me for ruining christmas. My mother was crying now. Then, I wanted to tell him what I thought for the first time. I reminded him of how he said things like “You can tell who doesn’t belong here” on Christopher Street Day because kids don’t know about sexuality yet - teaching children tolerance is something bad, I guess. I asked him about dragging your kids to church and of course “that’s completely different and you just don’t understand that and you won’t”. He didn’t try to explain that, of course. I left after he shouted at me, to my (the gay twenty-one-year-old’s face) face how he celebrated CSD before I was born. Because that means he can’t be homophobic or hurtful. I left, cried, stayed the night at my grandpa’s and took the bus home the next day. (Coincidentally, the grandma who even made me come wasn’t even in town while I was there, so that was great.)

I got angry, I felt horrible. And I even got a little angry at my mother, for not taking my side - I feel even worse for thinking that, but... that she didn’t even tell HIM to calm down? I don’t know, I probably just am a bad child. I told my friends a month later, it started more or less as a joke about how bad my christmas was - then I actually broke down and cried. Three people hugged me while I stood there crying.

Am I in the wrong here? Am I just over-reacting? I mean, I felt a little discriminated against, but other gay people get attacked, and children are starving and dying in the Middle East and such. Someone was just a little mean to me.

So, am I just a crybaby? Even the reason that I am writing this means I am unable to deal with this...