#gasp I’m talking shit about the wigs? yes have you seen them

[moriartyyouwhore]

The Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon wig department WISHES they were me

I have a box of bleach, out of date toner, time blindness, and a DREAM

[weeb-writor]

MHA boys on take your kid to work day

Hello! New post with 3 of my loves! Just them reacting to your kids visting them at work Bakugou and Aizawa are fluff and just a hint sad while Izuku’s is fluff and crack! Reader is neutral.

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 Bakugou Katsuki x Reader, Aizawa Shouta x Reader, Midoriya Izuku x Reader

They react to their kids coming to visit them on bring your kid to work day

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BAKUGOU KATSUKI

When little Kaori said she wanted to go with Bakugou to bring your kid to work day, who she called Papa, you were a little hurt but decided hey you could use this as an excuse to hang out with him as well. A sort of family day at Bakugou's agency. Bakugou on the other hand was less than thrilled he did not want his baby girl anywhere near the dangerous agency or on the field with him. He also couldn't say no so, here you were with your daughter all dressed in his official costume merch, bouncing on your hip with joy. 

“We at daddy work now?” She said as she glanced around.

“Little girl even if you ask every two minutes it won't make us get there faster.” You said with a smile.

“Otay!” She said with her cute slur. She didn't get the chance to ask the question again as you entered the building.

“Oh look who it is!” A voice boomed out to you both. You recognize it as Kirishima, Kaori's partner in crime. Next to him was Bakugou who was giving you a goofy smile.

“Uncle Eiji! Uncle Eiji!” The little girl roared as she ran to meet him, slipping from your arms. She dashed into his rams and giggled as he threw her into the air.

“Oi you little brat! What about papa, just forgot all about me? Im wounded.” Bakugou said in a playful tone. The little girl gasped and grabbed bakugou's leg when she was back on the ground.

“No papa don't be wounded! I didn't forgot you!” She said into his leg, bakugou picked her up with a chuckle and came to your side.

“Yeah don't worry she didn’t forget about her precious papa. You all she could talk about I didn’t think I would find someone who talks about you more than you do but then again she is your kid.” You said making yourself and Kirishima laugh.

“OUR kid! You talk about me just as much, i'm the best husband and dad and hero, of course she’s gonna brag about me to anyone with ears.” He said ruffling her hair as he placed her down next to him.

“Papa, c’mon we gotta do papa works!” The little girl said, bouncing around the lobby.

“Oh yeah! You wanna see papa and me kick some ass?! You gotta take all in so you can be a great hero too someday!” Kiri said, further riling the girl up.

“Yay! Gonna watch you and papa kick ass and take names!!” The girl said not watching how her parents' faces paled. Kirishima only laughed and told you he was gonna take Kaori on a tour of his office real quick.

“Stop being such a bad influence on my daughter shitty hair!” Your husband roared after the pair of giggling retreating figures.

“Him? Puppy eyed, soft, and cuddly Kirishima Eijirou, badly influencing Kaori? It's all you babe, the little girl is so in love with you she does everything you do, just a bit cuter.” You said as you pecked his check.

“She isn't like me, stop saying that.” He said seriously with a grunt.

“She is, you are her hero. She wants to be just like you, what's the problem with that? You’ve been pushing her away every since she said she wanted to come here.” You said glaring at him.’

“I have not.” He said looking away from you.

“Yes you have, Katsuki, just talk to me cause you're gonna break your daughters heart. Every night you used to tell her stories of your patrols. Buy her you and Eijirou’s hero merch, hell even deku’s. Kids arent dumb shes is going to notice you stopped doing those things.” You said grabbing his chin and making him meet your eyes.

“She shouldn't want to be like me, okay!! I never want her to be a Pro-hero! I never want her to have scars on every inch of her body’s and be insecure about how she looks! I never want her to have nightmares of screams or the people she couldn’t save. I don’t want to worry that one day she might not come home, okay. And all the shit I went through at UA!? No way.” He whisper shouted at you.

“You're getting way ahead of yourself baby. Kaori isn’t even in school yet and barely has bloomed into her quirk. She isn’t getting any battle scars just bumps and bruises. It’s easy to worry about the what if’s but it’s even easier to just focus on her laugh or her smile when she talks about you. Love your also forgetting you are more than a pro hero, your a good man who’s funny, brave, and little wild. That’s who Kaori wants to be like not Dynamight, she wants to be like her papa, Bakugou Katsuki.” You said caressing his cheeks. He considered your words with flushed cheeks, before he let out a sigh but before he could respond Kaori came crashing to him.

“Papa! Papa! Papa!” The girl said jumping up and down with her hands up. Bakugou laughed but picked her up nonetheless.

“C’mon papa! We gots to go do paperworks! Uncle kiri said we do that then we go kickass!” She said wigging with happiness in his arms, you laughed as he paled again.

“Sure baby girl but please don’t say that bad word, papa doesn’t like it.” He said as he walked towards his office.

“To bads! I wanna be just like you papa and you say it so I’m gonna say it too!” She said, pulling at his cheeks.

“You damn brat just listen to me! If you’re gonna try to be like me at least be a better version not a copy pasted person which means no cussing!” He yelled gently at her.

“Okay papa! Does this mean you’ll teach me how to be as great as papa! Wanna be just like you ‘member” she said with determination.

“Don’t say anymore no no words today and hell yeah I will! I’ll teach you how to be even better than Papa.” Bakugou said not looking at Kaori but looking at you. His look was saying what his mouth couldn’t, he was done thinking of what could happen years from now. Right now he just wanted to do whatever made his little girl smile whatever that means.

AIZAWA SHOUTA

“Tell me you did not.” Aizawa said to his blonde friend.

“I did, you can't be mad!” Hizashi said with a chuckle.

“I can be and I am. I told you I didn't want them here.” he said lowly.

“There are a bunch of pros here, security is super tight and they know not to call you or me by our government names or to say their full names and besides Y/n is gonna be here the whole time.” The blonde said, trying to calm down his friend.

“No matter how tight our security is, stuff seems to slip through the cracks and put the students in danger. I don't need any villains learning I have not one not two but three huge and very exploitable weaknesses.” He said as they neared his rooms where his students were waiting.

“They are wearing face masks and hoods. Any part of them that is distinguishable is being hidden, its gonna be fine. Don't act like you aren't excited to see them, its been 4 days i know you're itching to see them.” Hizashi said as his friend went into his classroom. He had only gotten about halfway through the class when the door opened and you were seen in the doorway.

“Dada!!” The little one year old said in your arms skirming for her dad. The whole class craned their necks to see you, your one year old, and your 4 year old.

“Hello Eraserhead!” You laughed as you went to sit at an open desk placing both of the kids on your lap. The class glanced from the kids to their teacher and back again.

“Sensei! You have kids! And you're married!” A blonde one yelled.

“Denki stop yelling you're gonna give me a headache. Yes I do, which I hope you can all keep them a secret.” He said with a sigh.

“You're such a grump I don't know how they tolerate you. Hello, I am Y/n, this little one is Kumiko, and this one is Shira.” You said as you waved at them, Kumiko copied you and gave the kids a lazy wave to which all the kids cooed at. Aizawa smiled and went back to explaining what the class would be doing for the rest of class period which was just some research on a few different kinds of hero agency.

“Hello my pretty girls.” Aizawa said taking the bouncing girl from you.

“Hi daddy! Can I help you with your work!” Shira said with a toothy smile, she had a sort of fascination with quirks.

“To be honest sweet thing they are learning big words right now, words too big for you but im sure they would love to talk to you and tell you about their quirks.” He said ruffling her hair. Then his quirk activated as he looked at his class.

“Say anything inappropriate, lose control of your quirk and hurt her and I'll expel you.” He said menacingly to which all the kids nodded in fear. That's all Shira needed to hear before she walked over to a group of students.

“She was so excited when I told her we were going to see you, I think she's going to be a teacher someday.” You said gazing up at Aizawa who was playing with Kumiko.

“Uh uh sweet talk like that isn't gonna work. I told you it is too dangerous for them to be here.” He said with a pout.

“I remember saying there isn't a safer place than with you!” You said with a small smile.

“Well have it your way as usual when Shira or Kumiko start acting like one of these brats you and Mic will be to blame.” He said with a sigh.

“Well Mr. Easerhead, I'll be prepared for punishment! I think i have nothing to fear though the smile on your face says everything you can't.” You said as he played with your daughter. The day went like this. You and Aizawa playing with Kumiko and Shira floating about the classroom, The day had almost went by without any event when Shira louds cries were heard. Aizawa handed Kumiko to you and was at her side in a second. She rushed into his torso and cried even more. The class all had their fingers pointed to 3 of the boys.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” He spoke to her softly. Her little fist rubbed at her eyes.

“I told then that you were the best hero and then green one was like ‘thats All might’ and then the blonde one was like ‘yeah he really great person’ then the red and white one was like ‘yeah he is number 1’ they dumb assholes anyway cus he not 1 anymore dats ‘devor! You're the best hero, aren't you daddy?” The girl said as she looked at her dad with stars in her eyes. You were just laughing as quietly as you could.

“Im anything you want me to be sweetheart but don't say asshole it's a naughty word for adults.” He said, wiping the drying tears from her cheeks.

“But the blonde one said it alot.” She said with a pout.

“Did he now? Well in that case I forgot you have a 3 mile run today, and it's a test. Be back before class is over which is roughly 30 no 27 minutes or you'll be put on cleaning duty for the whole school including the dorms.” He said and the class was off just like that. Your small family watched from the window as the students ran with Shira sometimes yelling out the window.

“And don't stop until you finished you lazy wannabe heroes!” She shouted with a happy smile.

“Did I say it right daddy?” She said wiggling in his arms.

“Yes you did sweetheart.” He said with a proud smile.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

You and the twins had been at Izuku’s agency for a while and he was going insane. The boys were 3 and nothing like their father. They were wild, loud and adventurous. They didn't and wouldn't stay still. The office loved it but Izuku was about to have a heart attack, Tatsuo was missing. He was only 3 and couldn't really open the door or operate an elevator so you, Bakugou, and Uraraka were not all that worried but poor Izuku was.

“Deku calm the fuck down. He’s been gone for like 2 minutes maybe he couldn't have got far.” Bakugou said to his stressing friend who was putting Toshi back into his leash backpack thing.

“It only takes 1 second to get hurt or die, Kacchan. I’ve failed as a parent.” He said, sounding too serious. You couldn't stop your laughter now.

 “Honey, our kids are too predictable. Just get a bag of C-A-N-D-Y from their bag and shake, Tatsuo will come running.” You said with a small smile taking Toshi from him.

“Oh good thinking!” He said getting a bag and shaking like crazy. Soon little footsteps were heard and Tatsuo emerged from behind Izuku smiling like crazy.

“Daddy, can I have a candy, pretty please!” He said with his cute smile almost making his father forget he ran from then.

“Only if you promise to never wander off like that again!” Izuku said as sternly as he could, but it wasn't very stern at all. The boy nodded at him and stuck out his hand but when he did Izuku noticed blood all over his hand and fainted within seconds. You and Bakugou went to find bandages and a first aid-kit for Tatsou while Uraraka got water to wake up Izuku.

“Oh my gosh! Does he need stitches or something! We should take him to the hospital.” Izuku said as he shot awake. The people around all laughed at the green haired boy.

“No babe, he was just playing with a stapler and staple his hands…. A few times but he’s fine.” You said pointing to the two boys who were watching Bakugou make very small explosions. 

“Tatsuo! Toshi! Don't get too close you could get hurt! We should go home babe, hey Uravity take over for me I’m going home!!” He yelled shakily. You weren't sure what you were gonna do with your worrywart husband, especially when the boys do or don't get quirks. He couldn't handle them now without needing an inhaler. He damn sure couldn't if they got quirks, you could picture it now. A funeral caused by your rambunctious kids for your husband. ‘Here lies a lovely but overbearing and worrywart father.’

[delos-mio]

Death of a Bachelor - Part 17

A/N: I’m on a roll, kids. But with that roll, it’s with a heavy heart I announce that there is only ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT! Well, and an epilogue. But the end of DOAB is fast approaching. Enjoy a chapter with what I think is s fun little something different, and some gratuitous smut (oops). YES you read that right, there are sexy times ahead! Anyways, enjoy, gimme your thoughts, and tags at the end!

PEREZ EXCLUSIVE: Get ALL The Tea From The Delos Family Affair!

We weren’t the only ones caught off guard by Saturday night’s family shake up!

It’s been no secret that Delos patriarch and total Daddy™️ Jim Delos had plans to retire this fall. Recently we’d seen his soon-to-be son in law (maybe not anymore?), William, as the figure head at Delos events. Billionaire playboy and Jim’s own son, Logan Delos, looked like he was OUT of the picture. Poor baby, we’ll be your shoulder to cry on, right Perezcious readers?

So imagine Jim and William’s surprise the night of the retirement party when the Delos heir announces he bought daddy’s company with veteran entrepreneur John Collins?! Consider our wigs snatched!

Inside sources who were at the event Saturday night say a number of arguments broke out immediately after the bombshell was dropped- I can’t imagine Jim was too happy.

But the real fight occurred between William and his fiancé, Delos director Juliet Delos. Witnesses saw William leaving the party with the cute little blonde playing the piano and shards of glass in the hallway. Has William been playing his fiancé to get in good with Delos?! And the same little birdie told us that this affair may not be the first! Umm…no offense, but William? Not exactly on our hot list. Now, Logan, on the other hand…

Logan has a long history of rolling around in the sheets with anyone with a pulse. He’s been linked to everyone from Tristian West to Holly Decker.  But might the perpetual Delos bachelor be off the market?! Attendees of the event say Logan was accompanied by a woman he seemed quite taken with, some going so far as to say he “never left her side” and “looked at her with cartoon hearts in his eyes”.  Well, there’s a first time for everything!

O. M. G! A lover’s quarrel, a family coup d’etat, and Logan with a *gasp* girlfriend? Wish we could have been there!

So what do you think, my Perezcious readers? Will Delos sink or swim under new ownership? And are we witnessing the death of a bachelor with Logan Delos?

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“...So then, John gets up front to say thanks or whatever. And he goes ‘oh I’m just half of ownership, why don’t you come up here, L?’ So Logan goes to stand with him and Jim just blows the fuck up,” you smiled, biting down on your lip. You were back in your office with your beloved friend and assistant, dishing to Charles’ slack jaw as you recounted the events from the retirement party just a couple days ago.

“No way,” he laughs.

“Yes. And then William’s all ‘did you fucking know about this?!’ to Jules who is like, completely blindsided at this point. And Logan sees him yelling at her and gets in his face to get away from his sister,” you continued.

“Oh my god.”

“I go check on Logan to make sure he’s ok and he’s like yeah, yeah, but we should find Jules. So, we go back inside and Jules is screaming at the top of her lungs, throwing clothes, throwing vases...”

“Vases?!” Charles squeaked out.

“Vases. Because guess what? William was in there about to fuck the girl he brought in to play piano.” You leaned back in your seat and waited for Charles to process everything you just said. He sat, flabbergasted, for a moment before putting his hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Your life is more exciting than Real Housewives of Beverly Hills,” he giggled. “Oh! When you guys get married, please give your job to me and become a Bravo housewife. You’d be so good at it!” You looked at Charles with an arched eyebrow that he waved off. “But really, that’s insane! I can’t believe all that happened in a night.”

“All of that specifically happened in like, 20 minutes,” you laughed.

“Jesus Lord. I’m so mad I wasn’t there!”

“You would have loved it.” It felt good to be able to laugh about that night with someone a little more removed from the drama. Someone in attendance at the party had to run to almost every gossip blog and tabloid peddling “exclusive” information about the events that unfolded. Most of it was true, some of it was false, but it was in no way a complete picture. Logan was annoyed at first that everything had been made so public so fast, but he was used to media scrutiny by this point in his life.

After William drove off, Logan pulled Juliet aside to talk about Delos. She was furious he didn’t tell her about him buying the company from under their dad’s nose, but given his history with Jim and William, she ultimately understood why Logan kept her out of it for as long as he did. Logan was clear he didn’t want to change anything about the business or take anything from her. No, his goal was to get Jim and William out of there, to make it a safe place for him and his sister to grow and thrive and lead.

“I’m going to be out for the rest of the day starting around 1. I told Logan I’d meet him for lunch. It’s his first day back in his office and I think he’s a little nervous.”

“The handsome, sexy, confident Logan Delos gets nervous?” Charles asked with a smile.

“Yes, he does. And stop hitting on my boyfriend. You’re his type and hot enough to steal him from me,” you laughed and tossed a pen at Charles.

“Yeah right. Like his entire world doesn’t start and end with you.” You looked up from your computer screen at Charles, who was grinning even broader this time.

“Shut up,” you mumbled and blushed.

“Well, have fun and tell the Mrs. I say hello.” Charles stood and moved to your office door, pausing before he let himself out. “Seriously though, tell him I said congrats too.”

“I will. He’ll appreciate that,” you said with a smile, watching as the door shut again behind Charles.

——-

The receptionist you’d come to know as Chloe beamed at you when you walked into the office. She looked like she had a spring in her step and couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

“Good afternoon, Chloe. How are you?”

“I’m excellent, thank you! Coming in today and finding out Mr.— sorry, William was no longer with Delos was a welcome surprise,” she said candidly. You guessed the switch from the formal address to just his first name was her way of saying he no longer warranted the respect. When you quirked your lips at her, she clamped a hand over her mouth. “That was so unprofessional of me. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” you said sweetly. “And I’m sure Logan wouldn’t mind if he overheard you talking shit about William.”

“Thank you,” she exhaled. “Mr. Delos said to send you right in when you got here and that-“ she paused to pull up an email “I have specific orders to ‘always let my princess in directly to me. Do not call me and tell me she’s here. Just send her in. And do not interrupt me while she’s here. If there’s an emergency, make it Juliet or John’s problem’,” she recited directly off her screen.

“He actually put princess in that?” you cringed.

“He did. He told me to follow his memo to the letter.” Her eyes darted back to the screen and you rolled your eyes fondly.

“Thank you, Chloe. Same office as before?”

“Yes, ma’am. And it’s my pleasure.” As you started to walk away, you heard her call out to you quietly.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say I’m glad to see you here again.” Her cheeks painted pink and she looked down at her keyboard.

“The feeling is mutual, dear.” You smiled and made your way back to the corner office you knew had belonged to him before his dismissal. You gave a soft knock on the large oak door and heard Logan call from inside.

“That better be my princess.”

You laughed and opened the door just enough to slide in, shutting and locking it behind you. “You really had to use my pet name in a memo?” you asked, setting your bag down on the closest chair. “I get VIP access to the boss?”

“Read that to you, did she?” Logan was already on his feet and sweeping you into his arms. You nodded before his lips found yours and he pulled you into a searing kiss.

“You look good behind that desk,” you said, breathless.

“I think it’d look better with you on it,” he smirked.

“Well, what are you waiting for, Mr. Delos? You’re in charge here, are you not?” You teased, running a finger down his chest.

A feral look flashed in Logan’s eyes before he lifted you into his arms, walking you to his desk in front of the floor to ceiling windows and perching you on the edge. Your legs parted on their own accord so Logan could slot himself between them, pressing close to you as he kissed along your jaw.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to fuck you right here, just like this,” he breathed into your neck.

“Since the first day you met me? When you had that cute little crush on me,” you giggled and Logan nipped right below your ear.

“I still have a crush on you.” It shouldn’t have gotten to you the way it did, but Logan saying those words sent off butterflies in your stomach, making you dig your nails deeper on his back. Logan ran one of his large palms up the inside of your thigh, deftly using his long fingers to push aside the material of your underwear and run them teasingly through your folds. “Fuck, you’re already soaking wet baby,” he groaned, easily sliding his fingers inside you, keeping his thumb rubbing over your clit.

“Want you,” you moaned into his ear before taking the lobe between your teeth and tugging. Logan wasted no time reaching down and pushing up your skirt around your hips and pulling off your panties, letting them dangle crudely around one ankle. You fumbled with his belt and zipper, unwilling to stop kissing him for long enough to look at what you were trying to do. Logan eventually helped you out, pushing his suit pants just below his ass.

“God, you make me so fucking hard,” Logan panted as you fisted his already leaking cock. He couldn’t help looking down and watching you work him, loving the way it looked and felt to have you finally touching him after he fantasized about this very moment all morning. “Gonna let me fuck you right here, baby girl?” He unbuttoned the top few buttons of your blouse, just enough so he could slip a hand inside and palm your breast. The massaging turned you into putty in his hands and he knew it. Logan had definitely learned what to do to you to make sure he got his way.

“Yeah,” you whined, looping your arms over his shoulders and pressing your chest against him. “Please, Lo.”

“Such a good girl,” Logan sighed as he held his base and slid inside you in a single smooth stroke. You bit back a moan as he bottomed out, trying your best to be mindful that the walls were almost certainly not soundproof. “Always so good for me.” Logan shuddered as he pulled back out, really letting you savor the thick drag of him inside you before slamming in once more. His reentrance made you hiccup and pull Logan even closer, as if even a centimeter of space between you was too much space.

As hard as you tried to, you couldn’t stop the moans that bubbled from your lips. Logan felt too good inside you and the idea of him wanting you so bad you were both still mostly clothed was driving you wild. An accidental and particularly loud moan escaped you when Logan hit you just right deep inside. Logan reached up and placed his palm over your mouth, his eyes still full of lust, but now a bit softer. “Shh, shh, I know baby,” he whispered, his hips never relenting in their pace. “You feel so fucking tight and perfect. And trust me, baby, I want to hear you scream so fucking bad. But we have to be quiet, ok?” You nodded and Logan grinned, moving his hand away. “I love you.”

“Love you,” you sighed before kissing him again, desperate for something to keep your mouth occupied. Logan continued slamming into you, his movement becoming more and more erratic. You knew he was close by all those little signs you’d learned over the last year and change- how his breathing got shallow and his fingers dug in deep, how he always bit down on his bottom lip right before he came.

“I’m close, princess,” Logan huffed. His eyebrows were pulling together, trying to hold it off for as long as he could. “Where do you want me?”

“We still going to lunch?” you asked in a breath, rocking your hips against his teasingly.

“Mhmm,” he said with a nod.

“Then you should probably come in my mouth, don’t you think?” you smiled. “I don’t know how comfortable it’d be sitting for an hour with your load dripping out of me.” You knew putting the visual in his head would just push him closer to the edge. Maybe it wasn’t playing fair, but you couldn’t resist teasing him.

“Fuck, fuck,” he groaned, hips snapping even faster. “Knees, baby. Please,” he whined and pulled out of you entirely, gripping tight at his base.

You felt so empty now without him, but quickly dropped off the desk in front of him, opening your mouth for him. Logan ran his hand almost tenderly along your jaw and rested his thumb on your chin, pulling your jaw down just enough for him to enter your mouth and watch as your lips wrapped around his head. You took him all the way to the back of your throat, swallowing him there for a moment before pulling back and flicking your tongue over his slit. That was all it took for Logan to let out a long sigh and spill into your mouth. You waited patiently for every drop before swallowing and releasing his now softening cock. Logan held his hands out to you and helped you back to your feet, immediately kissing you, chasing his own taste with his tongue. You always did love that part of his post-orgasm ritual.

“I wish you knew how sexy you look on your knees like that, swallowing like my perfect girl,” he mused as his fingers reached down and found your pulsing clit, putting just a little pressure and rubbing in small circles. You gasped at the contact and bucked your hips into his hand. With a smirk, Logan used his other hand to hike up your leg, opening you up to him a little more. Truthfully, you weren’t too far from climax yourself. As Logan continued to work you, you clung tightly to him, burying your face in his jacket to muffle the noises you wanted to make. You let Logan know you were close by clawing at his back, sinking even closer to him. “That’s it baby. Just let go,” he whispered.

“Can I come for you?” you asked, your request a little muffled, but Logan knew exactly what you said.

“Fuck, you better,” he growled, pressing down a little harder. The increased pressure and Logan’s encouragement was more than enough to push you over the edge. You gripped his jacket tightly and rode out your high on his fingers, finally going limp against him. Logan placed your foot back on the floor and held you steady as your legs regained the ability to work. Once he was convinced you could hold yourself up, he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a shit eating grin. “You good?”

“I’m good,” you smiled and leaned in to peck him sweetly. “I like this whole being able to fuck in your office because you’re the boss deal.”

“Oh, I’m loving that deal. I’m thinking next time, I can press you against the window and take you from behind,” he said nonchalantly, tucking himself back into his pants and smoothing out his jacket.

“It stinks like sex in here, though,” you said with an arched eyebrow. You checked your hair and makeup in the small mirror on the wall and touched up any spots that said ‘yes, I just let the CEO fuck me senseless in his office’.

“Good.” Logan kisses you once and hands you your bag. “Lunch, my dear?”

“Yes, please. Someone made me work up an appetite,” you teased. Logan couldn’t wipe the smug look off his face when he placed his hand on the small of your back and walked with you out to the reception area. You smiled at Chloe as you walk out and Logan took your hand, looking at you as he raised it to his lips, leaving a small kiss on the back of your hand.

“Have a nice lunch, Mr. Delos,” Chloe beamed.

“Thank you, Chloe. We will,” Logan smirked. “Oh, can you please forward any calls to my voicemail? I don’t think I’ll be back today.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, squeezing his hand.

“Mhmm.” Logan kissed you softly.

“Of course, Mr. Delos. Enjoy your afternoon,” Chloe blushed, looking on at your PDA. It must have been an odd sight, seeing Logan be affectionate with you publicly after months of keeping your relationship on the down low when you first got together. But now Delos was his, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t kiss you whenever and wherever he wanted.

Though you originally made a reservation for lunch, after very quick discussion, you opted for picking up Thai food from the little place on the way home and sharing it out on the deck. Logan had pulled the cushions off the outdoor furniture and made a little nest for the two of you to sit on, practically on top of each other, and feed each other bits of food when something was particularly good. He couldn’t help himself from kissing away the bit of green curry at the corner of your lips, which you told him was disgusting, but Logan only laughed and continued his attack.

Once you finished, boxes set aside in favor of you laying between Logan’s legs with your back to his chest, you melted against him and let your eyes slip closed against the afternoon sun.

“You ready for Wisconsin again?” you asked quietly, tracing a random pattern on his forearm wrapped around your chest. On Wednesday, the two of you would be leaving for your hometown for Emily and Elliot’s wedding. It felt surreal that the day was finally approaching after all of the planning you knew Emily had done. She’d been blowing up your phone for the last couple weeks with questions and complaints and asking for your opinion on damn near everything. You loved your sister with your whole heart, but you were ready to get this wedding over and done with.

“Yeah, I’m getting excited.” Logan kissed your shoulder. “It’ll be nice to get away for a little bit. Not worry about LA or Delos drama.”

“You need a vacation already? I could have sworn you just started the job today,” you teased, poking him gently with your elbow.

“Be nice,” he laughed. “Is it a crime to want to jet set with my beautiful princess?”

“It’s a crime you consider going to Milwaukee jet setting.”

“I liked Milwaukee!”

“It’s ok,” you sighed. You turned in his arms to lay on his chest, looking up at his face. “But I want to go on real vacation. Like to Hawaii or Fiji or something. Em’s wedding is not vacation. She’s going to work me the whole time! You’ve seen her scary ass texts to me.”

“Aw, my poor girl,” Logan pouted, kissing your forehead. “Well, we should go on real vacation. I’m thinking somewhere with a cabana and private beach. Somewhere we don’t have to put clothes on the whole time. We can just, I don’t know, get drunk and fuck and pet sea turtles.”

“I like all those things.” You nod your head, smiling as you watch Logan mentally plan a tropical vacation for the two of you.

Just as he opened his mouth to continue on with the fantasy he was cooking up, you both heard the front door close and someone walking through the house. There were only three people with keys to the house, and two of them were tangled together on the deck. So it wasn’t a huge surprise to see Juliet pop her head out the sliding glass door and push her sunglasses back over her eyes.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” she asked before sitting in one of the table chairs.

“Not yet,” Logan grinned.

“Gross.”

“Well, then perhaps you shouldn’t just let yourself in without notice, hmm?” Logan arched an eyebrow and Juliet just rolled her eyes. It was still odd to see her without her ring. Since the day you’d met, she had an obnoxiously huge engagement ring fixed on her finger. But, that was the first thing to go after Logan chased William out of the party.

“Ignore him,” you said, adjusting to sit up in Logan’s lap so you could actually talk to Juliet. “How are you holding up?”

“Is it weird to say I’m a little relieved?” She bit down on her bottom lip. “I think I loved him on some level, but having him and dad fuck off and to finally be able to breathe on my own? Kinda feels good.”

“I’m glad there’s a silver lining,” you smiled. Juliet nodded and managed an only slightly watery smile. “Were you just in the neighborhood and couldn’t resist our company?”

“Actually, I’m just here to ask a favor,” she laughed. “I know you guys are going to be out of town for a bit and I was wondering if I can stay here while you’re gone? William is supposed to be getting his shit this weekend and I’d rather not be there if I don’t have to be.”

“Yeah. Yeah of course,” Logan said immediately. He didn’t consider his answer for a second. “We won’t be back until Monday, right?” You nodded in confirmation. “You’re free to stay as long as you need to.” Logan was happy to accommodate any request if it got William out of his life and the lives of the people he loved.

“Thanks, guys. I appreciate it. I’ll make sure not to open any random drawers,” she winked.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Logan smiled and you shoved at his shoulder. “Really though, it’s no problem.”

“Cool. Well, I’ll leave you to do…whatever it was you guys were doing.” Juliet got up and gave you both a small salute. “Fly safe, fam.”

With that, she let herself out and you were left alone again, lounging in the slowly sinking sun. Logan was leaning back with his eyes closed, breaths even as he clung to you. He looked peaceful and actually relaxed, which was a rare sight recently. He’d gone through a lot in the last year and a half; maybe now he could finally enjoy some well-earned rest.

TAGGED: @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @marvelcapsicle​ @something-tofightfor​ @songtoyou​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @abroadcastofthemind​ @gollyderek​ @dylanobrusso​

[mandadoration]

know your place

summary: Mando catches you with intentions to turn you in for your bounty, but you’ve been in the game long enough to know how to deal with someone like him. You’re determined to make the Mandalorian beg. 

word count: 5, 128

pairing: mandalorian x smuggler!reader

warnings: slight dub-con elements (aphrodisiac), non-consenual drug use, smut, handjob, sub!mando, use of bondage, mentions of drugs, praise kink, thigh riding, dirty talking, teeny tiny pain kink, explicit sex 

a/n: I guess I really have a thing for his cuffs? Also, don’t ask me where this fic is in terms of timeline- I have no idea. 

“She’s dangerous,” Greef Karga warns. “You aren’t the first bounty to have gone after her, but I trust you’ll be the last.” He slides a fob and puck over the table. 

“What is it that makes her so dangerous?” Mando asks. He views your puck. You aren’t particularly threatening. Hell, you’re even smiling brightly as the hologram of your face spins around. If he’s being honest, Mando wouldn’t have pegged you for a criminal. A farmgirl, maybe, or some handmaiden to some nobility in the Core Worlds. “She’s just a spice runner, right?”

“All spice variants. And death sticks, snuff, sweetblossom, rissle stick, slick,” Karga adds on. “That’s not even all of it. If you can smuggle it, she’s got it.” His tone is unusually serious. It’s no wonder why; this bounty is definitely one of the higher ones. The price tag on her head was lucrative. It’s enough for a month or two’s worth of rations, and then some. 

“Really? That many?” Mando asks. “Sounds dangerous.” Most smugglers only chose to smuggle one or two things at a time. It was much too risky to try and transport so much across the galaxy. And by the sounds of it, this bounty sounds like she’s practically supplying half the galaxy. Maker knows how many other criminals she knows. “How’d she survive this long?” Karga shrugs. 

“The other hunters refuse to talk,” he explains. “And those are the ones that have come back.” Mando watches your hologram bust rotate, your dazzling smile making you look deceptively innocent. He takes you puck and the tracking fob. 

“I’ll bring her back,” he says. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

--

Of course you knew that at some point, the infamous Mandalorian would be coming after you. Several people from the Bounty Hunter’s Guild had tried to cash you in, but you wouldn’t let them. So when you had caught word that he had your puck, you had been on guard immediately. You make far too good of a living to give it up. 

But the Mandalorian?

That’s going to be a challenge. 

You’ve heard about him in your little (well, not little) criminal circles, watching as some of your clients have been picked up by him. You’re always quick to leave at any sign of trouble. You didn’t become a major supplier of drugs by being careless, stars, no. That’s why when you’re supplying high quality spice to some big wig, you’re swathed in layers of servant’s robes as you stealth through the town, scarf over the lower half of your face. 

You make sure that as you go through the city, you keep an eye out for any shiny piece of armor, making sure you bat your eyelashes at vendors and practically sashay through town, keeping a hand under your clothes, where your package was disguised as a pregnant belly. An old trick, but more effective than people would think, especially if you were in a less-fortunate part of town. You’ve even gotten some credits from sympathetic nannies who coo about your faux-baby in the past. You aren’t going to complain. You guess it does look weird when you go to a club to meet your client though. 

The guard at the door recognizes you, of course, and you nod at him as you slip through the back door. “Slythmonger,” he grunts. Just because you knew each other doesn’t mean he thought that you were lowly, especially when he eyes your fake belly. 

The club is filled with barely-clothed aliens and humans alike, all sickly sweet smiles and big eyes. You stick out like a sore thumb even more, but your clothes blend in with the dark. As you walk through the club, sticking close to the walls, you slip deathsticks to familiar customers who slip you credits in return. You get to a closed off room, knock three times, and slide in, squeezing your belly as you do. 

And you stop.

Because your client is staring at you with wide eyes as the Mandalorian sits across from him. If you thought you were out of place, the Mando looks like it even more, shiny beskar stark against the velvet cushions. You immediately slide your expression into one of anger, narrowing your eyes.

“Honey,” you grit out, glaring at your client who gives you a look of confusion. You huff and put a hand on your belly, rubbing it as if you were really with child. “What did you do this time?” You motion to the Mandalorian. At this point, you can hope that your scarf covers your face well enough, and that your client will be smart enough to catch on. 

“What?” he asks stupidly. Apparently not. 

You slowly stick your hand into a side pouch containing magic powder as you advance to your client. 

“You obviously did something, sweetie,” you say, voice low, “if a Mandalorian is here.” You see the Mando tilt his head as he looks at you. You eye him from the side. “Are you with the guild?” you ask him, voice dripping with false fear, protectively covering the package. He gets up, and you tense, but he pulls out a puck and activates it, showing your face. And suddenly you’re glad for the loud, pulsing music because if it had been quiet, the tracking fob you’re sure he holds would be beeping loud and clear.

“I’m looking for her,” Mando says. “She delivers spice to your… husband here,” he says. “Have you seen her?” Either he’s a really good actor, or you’re a better one than him and have him fooled. You gasp and whirl to face your client.

“Spice?” you hiss at him, who honestly looks more scared at you than he did at the Mandalorian. “You’re doing spice?” 

“Um, yes?” he stammers out. You sob dramatically, turning away as you try to scan for more exits. Looks like the door you came in is the only one, unless you can somehow fly up and go through the vents before the bounty hunter can snag you. 

“I cannot believe this!” you cry out. “I’m due in a month! A month! And you’re out here doing drugs.” Your wailing makes Mando wince. “Where’s the money?” you demand. Your client scrambles to dump out the credits onto a nearby table and you scoop them out and count quickly. “So this is where it goes?” you screech. You tuck them away. The most he could do was pay you for the horrific acting you had to do, pretending that he was your husband. “I was reluctant for you to even start up this… this harem!” you say, motioning to the dark room and the door. “But I draw the line here!” You turn to slap your client, but in the middle of your theatrics, your fake belly drops down and out under your skirt, spilling carefully measured bags of spice all over the floor. The room falls silent as you stare, and turn back to look at the Mandalorian. 

“Oh dear,” you say weakly, “the baby.” And you blow a handful of powder into his face, ripping off your servant garb and dumping it over his helmet. Although it wouldn’t as potent with the helmet on, you can disorient him. You burst through the door and sprint out of the club and side door, ignoring a very disgruntled guard as you dash into the streets.

“Get back here!” you hear him shout. Shit, he got out that faster than you thought, but at least the powder worked somewhat. He ran straight into a cart as he left the alley. But you have no time to gloat.

You dart through the annoyed crowd, and you can track where the Mandalorian is from how fast the people part behind you. As you run, you dig in your pockets for anything you can use. You curse when you realize that your only syringe was empty, and you didn’t have a replacement medshot. And you really didn’t want to waste your last vial of love-wallop. That shit was expensive on the market right now. You skid into another alley way, but you go cold as you realize it’s a dead end. You don’t stop running, even as the wall gets closer. At the end, you can see a door on the left. If you got there in time, you did have--

You trip when something tangles around your legs. You yelp as you go down, palms scraping against the dirt. Scrambling back, it tugs on you, and the Mando drags you closer to him. 

“Nice acting,” he says, his voice rough behind the modulator. He’s out of breath and taking deep inhales. “Almost had me.” You scowl, and he throws cuffs at your feet, keeping his blaster trained on you. “Cuff yourself.”

Glaring at him, you untangle your legs from the wire he used and snatch the cuffs up. There’s no way you’re letting yourself get caught without a fight. He’s watching you carefully, but you’re fast, faster than him at least, and you chuck the cuffs at him and blow another handful of powder in his face. As he doubles over in pain and disoriented from another dose, you kick his blaster out of his hand and expertly dump your vial into the syringe, and tackle him, climbing on his back as you grit your teeth and try to find a patch of skin. He tries to buck you off, but you stab your needle into his neck before he can. Mando yells in alarm and does eventually manage to throw you off, but it’s working fast, and soon he’s swaying on his feet. 

“What... what did you--” he slurs, but he tips over before he can finish. You huff as you toss the empty vial and syringe aside. It shatters as it hits the wall and you crouch down next to him. Mando reaches up, but you simply push his hand back down. He’s too weak to fight back. “What’d you put in me?” You purse your lips. 

“Love-Wallop serum,” you answer. “That was expensive, Mando. That’s gonna cost you.” You admire his get-up. If that was really beskar he was wearing, you could afford to hide out for months while you gather more supplies and lie low. “It’s not usually meant to be injected,” you hum, grasping his helmet and tilting it as it glints in the sunlight. “Although, maybe I can change the formula a teensy bit.” You peer at the injection site. It’s a little irritated from the rough jab, but it fades away as a flush creeps up his neck. 

“I thought…” Maker, his mouth is dry, and he feels floaty as the serum works through his system. “I thought you were just a slythmonger.” You chuckle. 

“When you’re in this trade for as long as I have,” you say, leaning in close, “you learn a thing or two.” You watch as he moans and attempts to get up. A simple nudge discourages him as he plops back on the ground with a soft thud.“Now, how am I gonna get you out of here?” you murmur. 

The last thing he sees is your frowning face as you get up to pat the dust off of you. 

--

When Mando finally comes to, his head his aching, and he’s burning up, an ache deep and low in his gut. He’s sees you lounging casually across from him with a watchful eye. Mando jerks and tries to reach for his blaster, but his hands are tied above his head. With his own cuffs, magnetized and stuck to the wall. 

This is what they call irony, he supposes. 

A quick glance tells him that he’s in some kind of hideout, junk and trinkets lining the wall, and a pile of crates pushed up against another. It’s dim, the only source of light being a lamp next to a cot and what little sunlight that’s being mostly blocked by curtains. He shifts, and realizes all his gear has been stripped from him, including his vambraces and armor so that he’s left in his shirt and pants. Not even his boots are on him. He worries for a quick second in this moment of disorientation that his helmet’s been taken off when you speak up. 

“Your helmet is still on, don’t worry,” you say, shifting legs so that one is crossed over the other. You’re not stupid, after all. “What’s your name?” Mando doesn’t speak, but instead scans the room for anything that could help him get out of this situation. There’s a door or some kind of hatch in the far left corner, and another to what he thinks is the refresher, but everything surrounding him is moved far out of his reach in every direction. “Let me ask you again,” you say cooly. You get up, and run your boot up his leg, sending tingles up it and up his spine as he lets out a soft groan. “Tell me your name,” you say, sweetly.

“Din. Din Djarin,” he gasps out before he can stop himself. It’s hot. Much too hot in here even though he sees that you’re wearing a leather jacket to protect yourself from the slight chill. He’s aching, and he wants to dig his hands into your soft flesh. 

Where did that thought come from?

“Well, Din Djarin,” you say, and it should be illegal how sinful his name sounds coming from you. “You’re gonna be my little experiment. How about that?” you murmur. You crouch down next to his and rub your thumb on his upper thigh. He bucks up into the air, and you hum when you notice the bulge in his pants. 

“What did you put in me?” he grits out, straining against his cuffs. You remove your hand and get back up, and Mando has to bite back the whine that threatens to leave him at the loss of contact. You take off your jacket, sling it over a chair, and pick up a vial of shimmering pink liquid. 

“Love-Wallop,” you answer. “It’s usually in a pill form, but my customers complained it took too long to dissolve, so I made it into a serum.” You glance at it and then to him, rolling the vial in your fingers. “Although I am starting to wonder if I can safely make it for injection.”

“You roofied me?” he asks. You make a face. 

“No!” you protest. You huff and roll your eyes. “What it’s supposed to do is make you more… susceptible to suggestion and seduction,” you continue. You place the vial down on a table and squat down next to him, and run a warm hand up his shirt. “Enhance what’s already there,” you continue. “You’re burning up,” you note, and use your other hand to palm him through his pants. He lets out a low moan, grinding up against your hand. 

“Yeah?” he groans, “That’s what happens when-- stars -- you get drugged.” You laugh, and pull your hands away, laughing harder when he struggls against his bonds to follow you.

“I guess you’re right,” you say amusedly. You reach for your jacket. “Shall I leave you here?” you ask coquettishly. “Let you ride out this little drug trip? Mind you, I don’t know how long it lasts or what happens when you don’t deal with... this,” you warn. You dig the heel of your boot on his erection, just barely enough pressure, but enough to tease him, to make your point. But a moan drags itself from his mouth. His head rolls back, and you’re willing to bet your entire stash of alderaanian snuff that his eyes are rolling back as well. You kneel down to unbuckle his pants and slide them over his hips, grinning when he subconsciously lifts his hips to help you. Maker, you wish you could just snatch that helmet off of him, see who it was and stick your fingers in his mouth. You think that he must have the softest lips, judging from how sweet every sound he makes is. 

But you aren’t that cruel. 

You are, however, cruel enough to pull his cock from his underclothes and let it go, watching it as it bounces up and leans against his belly. The trail of hair that leads up his hair only fuels your desire to see if the curtain matches the drapes. You absentmindedly rub the tip of cock with a single finger, smearing precum around as it twitches under your touch. You sigh dramatically and wipe your finger on his stomach before getting up, knees cracking as you turn away. 

“But you’re right!” you say. “You’re drugged, and I shouldn’t help you anyways, Din Djarin.” You voice drops to a whisper. “Even though I would very much love to help you and your little problem.” 

“You can’t- You can’t leave me here,” Mando protests, voice raspy and thick with desire as he eyes your figure. He feels hotter than ever, and sweat is dripping down his neck. You swing your leather jacket back on and turn to face him with hands on your hips. 

“Of course I can,” you say. You lick your lips as you drink in how desperate he looks. If it were anyone else, you would leave them, but this Mandalorian intrigues you. Maybe you can… Just this once… “But I will reconsider,” you propose, “if you ask nicely.” 

“You expect me to beg?”

“I expect you to ask nicely,” you correct, but your face splits into a feral grin. “But begging would be nice.” Mando doesn’t speak. He’s mulling it over, considering the pros and cons of ‘asking you’ to help him. The need is bubbling in his belly, and his cock is painfully hard. And you know it. Even if you can’t feel what he’s going through, he’s telegraphing his thoughts as he’s clenching and unclenching his fists, squirming where he’s sitting on the ground of wherever he is and canting his hips towards you. “What do you say?” you ask, the smile on your face reminiscent of the one on the puck, bright, but with an edge that screams predatory. He wants to, Maker knows how much he feels like he needs you, but his pride--

“No.”

-- gets the better of him. 

As soon as he says it, as soon as he sees your face drop and harden, he regrets it, he wants so desperately to please you, but he bites his tongue and keep quiet, even as his breath comes in pants as he’s thrusting into the air. You tilt your head, frowning. You want to ruin him, make him come apart under your hands; you probably want this as much as he does, but instead you shrug. 

“Okay.” And you sit down back in your seat in front of him, legs spread as you watch him. 

“Aren’t you going to leave?” Mando asks. He burns with shame under your gaze, and his cock twitches again. You shake your head. 

“No,” you say. “I said that you were going to be my little experiment,” you remind him. “I make good on promises, Din Djarin” and give him a sly wink. Mando grits his teeth, and directs his gaze somewhere else, anywhere but your piercing eyes and searching gaze. You hum and lean back. You can wait this out. You’re patient. 

This will be interesting.

--

The sun has set far below the horizon, and Mando’s cock is still hard by the time he finally speaks up. 

“Can you…” He clears his throat. He’s absolutely parched, and swallows, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Can you let me go?” he asks. You look up from where you have been mindlessly scrolling through your data pad. 

“Hm?”

“Can you let me go?” he repeats. You furrow your eyebrows. 

“And why would I do that?” you ask. You put your data pad on the table next to you and get up to stand next to him, looking down. Mando scrambles for an excuse in his rattled brain. He’s pretty sure with the way his temperature is soaring his brain is fried by now. 

“I’m sure you’re busy,” he says, and cringes with how unconvincing it sounds, even to him. “And have other things to do.” He doesn’t think too long on that, though, because you take a seat next to him and he catches a whiff of your scent, and he’s yearning for your touch again. He wants you so bad, or your hand, at this point he’ll take anything. 

“I am doing something,” you say simply, and lean forward so that you’re leaning against your hand. “Watching you.” You trail a finger up his side. “Waiting. Thinking.”

“Waiting for what?” he breathes. 

“Something,” you say with a sigh. 

“Thinking about what?” 

“How much I would love to wrap my hands around your cock,” you say bluntly, and you scratch your nails down his side. “How I would make you beg for it,” you continue, leaning in close so that you’re right by where his ear would be. “How you would beg for me to fuck you, or beg for my mouth or anything to let you cum.” You slide your hands up his shirt again, palms smooth across his scarred torso, and you tweak a nipple before pulling them back out again, and give his cock one, two, three pumps before you let him go. The lust makes his head cloudy, and at this point, he would let you do anything to him. You lean away from him. 

You tease, he thinks. And he can’t take it anymore. His resolve breaks. 

“Please,” he whines, and you freeze. 

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” he mutters, but your grin is hungry as you lean back in. 

“Say it again,” you command, and once again, he feels the inexplicable need to tell you everything as you scent fills his nose again. 

“Please.” 

“Again.”

“Please.”

“Again.”

“Please.”

“Oh Din Djarin,” you whisper, and the effect your voice has is devastating, “all you had to do was ask.”

Mando nearly cums right then and there when your unyielding grip wraps around his cock, stroking him in long, tight motions as you swing your leg over him to get a better angle. The pleasure is overwhelming. You reach over him, somewhere he can’t see, and you pull out a vibroblade and point it at the base of his throat. His pulse quickens, thinking that you’re about to slit his throat, but instead you catch the top of his shirt and slice it off. You throw the blade over your shoulder and you run your free hand all over his tanned skin. He growls when you twist your hand, and he bucks up. 

“You’re doing so good,” you moan, grinding against his muscled thigh as it flexes. “So good, Din Djarin,” and it’s true. Although you can’t see his face, you see how his chest is flushed and warm, the blush crawling up his neck, and the way he moans is beautiful. “I wish I could keep you,” you mutter, and hiss when you rub your clit just right against him. “Stars, you’d let me do anything to you, hm?” You kiss his chest and start peppering little nips and bites up his neck, sucking a particularly dark mark right on his pulse point. “Answer me.” You cup his balls and stare at him. 

“Yes,” Mando gasps. He’s nearly sobbing from the pleasure, the relief of finally having his cock touched overwhelmingly good, and preening under your murmured praises. “A-anything, fuck, just don’t-don’t stop please--!” His words are choked out as he suddenly cums all over your hand, thick, white ropes coating it and splashing onto your jacket. You don’t stop stroking him, grinding against him as he cums, and the sound he makes is pitiful. It’s only when you cum, white-hot pleasure making your ears ring as you finally stop moving against his thigh, and you’re both heaving in breaths. You pull away, and wipe your cum covered hands in the scraps of his ruined shirt, and you get up to leave, but then you stop when your eyes trail down. 

“Are you still hard?” you ask him incredulously. He came so much, but yes, there it is, his cock is still hard and nearly purple at the tip. As if you didn’t do anything at all. The little noise he makes only further confirms it. You gnaw at your bottom lip, staring at his marked chest and neck, and you think that you have another one in you. 

Definitely. 

And so now you’re shucking off your jacket and unbuckling your belt, slick with desire. Mando is watching you, following your movements and watching as your deft hands push down your pants and kicking off your boots. As you sink down, taking his cock in one fluid motion, and the scientist in you vaguely wonders if the dose of love-wallop you gave him could be transferred via bodily fluids. 

That thought is kicked out of your brain as he snaps his hips up and hits that spot inside of you, going deep and so wonderful and it feels like he’s punched the breath out of you. You gasp out a breathy moan. 

“Holy shit,” Mando hisses. He manages to get his feet under him, giving him better leverage to thrust into your pussy, watching as you bounce on top of him. 

“Yes, yes,” you moan. You hold onto his shoulder, all hard muscle and tensed with how he’s pulling at his cuffs to make sure he doesn’t slip. Mando wishes that he could wind his hand through your hair and pull your head back, to bare your neck and mark you, but his hands are still above his head, and he’s sure he’s rubbed his wrists raw. Your toes curl as he fucks you, eyes glazing over as you spy your reflection in his helmet, and your eyes widen when you see how debauched you look. “Din Djarin, I am never letting you leave,” you groan, rubbing your clit. “Stars, your- your cock,” you yelp at a particularly hard thrust, “fuck!” With your free hand, the one not preoccupied with playing with your clit, you dig your nails into his shoulder for leverage, and dig harder still when he moans in response. 

“Do you- Do you do this to all the hunters?” he manages to gasp out, and you shake your head. “Do you let them, let them do this to you? Fuck you?”

“Just you,” you say. “Only you.”

The squelching that fills the otherwise silent room is absolutely disgusting, his hips slapping up against yours, your shirt still covered in his cum. You’re beautiful like this, he thinks, or at least tries to, but all he can do is try and commit the image of you, flushed and hair messy, as you bounce up and down to meet his thrusts halfway, rolling your hips now and then, his mind too jumbled to form worthwhile thoughts. 

“I’m gonna cum,” he grunts. “Soon, shit, if you keep doing that I’m--” 

“Cum,” you breath out, face twisted up in pleasure. There’s coil deep in your core that’s been winding up, and you know you’re close to making it snap. “Cum in me.” And he’s consumed with the desire to listen and hang on to your every word, and he cums. That does it for you too, the feeling of him filling you up, and you grind against him as you nearly wail with pleasure as you orgasm, rubbing your clit in fast, small circles, pleasure rolling through you in waves. 

When you finally come down, Mando is gasping for breath as he slumps back down, and you pry your iron grip from him and get up, his soft cock slipping out of you, but you think you see it twitch again as cum drips out of you. As you pad to the refresher, Mando is overcome with sleepiness and exhaustion. He’s been wound up for hours, he sure, that when he finally got his release, his energy is spent. Mando nearly dozes off when you come back with a warm, wet rag, and wipe your cum and his from his body. You wipe the sweat around his neck, running it gently over the crescent-shaped marks from where you had dug your nails in, and he’s taken aback from how tender and gentle you are with him. There’s a soft look to your face as you’re focused on cleaning him up to the best of your abilities, and he thinks that you’re not even aware he’s looking at you. When you pull away, he yearns for your touch, but in a different way this time, and you give him a small smile. 

“Sleep,” you command him, and he tries to commit this image in his mind, not the one before, of you in the warm light of the lamp in the corner, glowing with the drips of moonlight filtering in, and once again he listens to what you say, and closes his eyes. 

--

Mando wakes up with a start, neck sore, and he scrambles up when he realizes he’s no longer cuffed, and remembers the events of the night before, dropping the blanket that had been placed over him.

The hot desire that had consumed him is gone now, and instead his legs and arms are aching, wrists raw and irritated like he knew it would be, and he looks around for you.

But any trace that you were there before are gone. 

The crates of drugs, your leather jacket and pants, hell, even the furniture and lamp that was in the corner are gone. All that’s left is his armor and a replacement shirt next to him. When he bends down to pick up the shirt, a little jar tumbles out. He reads the label. 

Salve, it reads, in what he presumes is your handwriting. For Din Djarin. Compensation for partaking in my experiment. He cracks a grin and puts it back on the floor, pulling the shirt over his head and starts the process of buckling his armor on again, trying to ignore how disappointment rises in him when the tracking fob linked to your chain code doesn’t even let out a single blip. Before he puts on his gloves and vambrace, he smears the salve over his wrists, and watches as the irritation almost immediately disappears. It works better than most commercial brands, he notes, and much better than the one in his medpack, so he tucks it away for future use, then freezes as he pats his pockets. He curses when he realizes. 

You had taken all his credits.

[doglover502]

A oneshot I made (I've been writing a few) in the Wig OK Bruh AU. Of Cody getting some romantic advice from Noah, of all characters.

Some slight Coditty time

"I don't know...you think girls like swords?"

Noah shook a bottle of formula in one hand when trying to balance his daughter in the other. "In my experience, it depends on the girl. He looked over to the fedora-clad nerd currently sitting on his couch. "If it's Kitty, then maybe."

Cody groaned, and glanced back at Noah. "You know, you're not being very helpful", he said before turning his attention back to the TV.

"Hey", Noah pointed to Cody with the bottle, peeved out. "You came into my apartment to ask for advice! Or so you claimed anyway…"

Cody looked up from the video game he was playing. "Your video game system is better", he sheepishly admitted.

"Well couldn't you go to Harold's or something? I'm kind of in the middle of something here-"

Noah was interrupted when his two month old started to fuss and reach out for the bottle in his outstretched arm. Noah turned his attention back to her.

"Hey, I know, can you wait two more seconds", he asked, with noticeably more patience. "I'm lecturing Uncle Cody about why his plan sucks."

"Hey!"

"It's true", Noah shrugged and sat down on the couch next to Cody. He put the bottle into his daughter's mouth, who immediately started to calm down with what she wanted. He watched Cody continue playing the game in a half-asleep daze.

Cody glanced over a bit, before double taking when he saw exactly what 

"Didn't think you'd actually put Bramble in the dinosaur one", he commented.

Noah looked down at Bramble, wearing the orange and blue dinosaur footies they received at their baby shower.

"Yeah I didn't either", he admitted. "But it's the only clothes she seems to like. We try to put her in anything else, she starts bawling."

Cody laughed. "How long did that go on for?"

"Stop changing the subject", Noah kept him back on track. The sooner Cody got his advice, the sooner he would leave. "So, when are you gonna ask her out already?"

"I will", Cody insisted. "I just don't know how. I've been waiting for the right thing to say to follow-up on our last conversation."

"And when will that be? You gonna wait for ANOTHER friend to go into labor?"

Cody thought back to that awkward second meeting.

-----

"It's ok man! Just keep doing the breathing!"

"It... it's HAPPENING! It's actually happening! I THOUGHT I'D BE MORE PREPARED FOR THIS!!!"

"I know, everyone does on the first kid, big guy."

Owen sat surrounded by friends in the hospital waiting room. He was in the midst of hyperventilating.

"Just keep breathing in the bag", Geoff instructed. "In and out. In and out."

Owen did so, and tried to get calmer with other reassurances.

Across from them in separate chairs, Kitty and Cody were sitting next to each other. The 2's silence was so tense you could cut a knife through it.

"Soooo...uhh", Cody twiddled his fingers and looked towards Kitty. ".....How ya been?"

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

"I made headway", Cody tried to defend himself. "And I think she was really impressed with my singing."

"Ah yes", Noah rolled his eyes. "Izzy's "birthing ambience"."

"You gotta admit, coming into the world to Bohemian Rhapsody. It was pretty badass! Especially the way you added on with that high note", Cody complimented, unaware that "high note" was actually a high-pitched scream of pain. "You still never told us what you thought of it."

"Well sorry. I was a little too busy getting this", he moved his head down to Bramble for emphasis, "little gremlin out of me to write down my critique notes."

"Alright dude", Cody feigned offense. "Man, you are really snappy today."

"Yeah", Noah looked down at Bramble, still drinking the bottle, completely unaware of the conversation going on around her. "This kid here. She's kept me and Owen up for weeks...but at the same time….I think having her and Owen around's made me the happiest I've been", he smiled while he looked down at his daughter.

Cody smiled at him. Seeing Noah be so sincere and happy was such a rarity. And it was a nice change of pace. "That's really great dude."

"Yeah….so I gotta make up for all that smiling and lay it extra thick on everyone else", Noah's smile changed back to a frown as he looked back up at Cody. "So grow some kiwis, and ask her on a date."

Annnnd, there was the old Noah back.

"I...I would, but... I'm just nervous", Cody admitted. "I mean, Kitty's cool! She likes video games too! She's also seen the world!"

"Yeah, she's a regular female you", Noah rolled his eyes. "So, what's stopping you from dating her and staying out of my apartment?"

"Well, your door", Cody commented. "And….and well, me."

Noah raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"I don't know if you've noticed but…. I'm not exactly the cool guy everyone thinks I am."

Noah gasped and sarcastically feigned shock. "No! You? The Codemeister?"

"Ok everyone but YOU thinks I am" Cody rolled his eyes. "I just don't want to screw my chances up with her. I've already made a bad first impression."

"That's true", Noah nodded. "Doesn't get any worse than sloshed at my baby shower. Well I guess unless you puked all over her shirt….oh wait...you did."

The 2 were interrupted briefly when Bramble started babbling, the bottle finished. Noah held her out to Cody. "Can you hold her please?"

Cody was confused, but took Bramble into his arms. Noah got up from the couch and went behind Cody's view. "Well, yeah I did, but that's when I was drunk. Who knows what I'll do-"

"Put her over your shoulder."

"Uh...ok", Cody did so, and continued speaking. "Who knows what I'll do while sober. I just...I don't want to be-"

"Creepy", Noah interjected. "Like a skinny 16 year old trying to sneak his way into a goth's bra?"

"...... We'll go with something like that, sure."

Cody could hear some water running behind him, probably Noah by the sink. "Relax, you're overthinking it", he heard Noah's voice talking. "Keep that up, and by the time you're done thinking, she's gonna move onto somebody else. Just talk with her like how you talk to us."

Cody heard the water stop and Noah's footsteps get closer to him. "For example, like the two of us. What do we usually talk about?"

"Video games? Job updates? Our latest therapy revelations from looking back on our time as reality TV stars?"

"Exactly", Noah came back into Cody's view and sat beside him on the couch. "Maybe leave out the therapy parts, in case she already thinks you're crazy", he noted and started to pat Bramble's back. "But other than that, just talk to her about the stuff you like, and see what she likes."

Cody thought about it. Maybe he was overthinking this. But, it was an improvement over his underthinking as a teenager...I guess. But he felt more confident, at the very least, a whole dinner talking about video games wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

He smiled up at Noah, with his regained confidence. "Thank you Noah. I really appreciate you helping me with this."

"No Cody"

"BLARGH!"

Cody's smile quickly changed into a shocked grimace. He could feel the spit up running down the back of his shirt. His eye twitched as Noah took Bramble back into his arms with an enormous shit-eating grin, leaving Cody a shell-shocked mess. 

"Thank YOU."

[arthur-fleck-is-my-baby]

We go together~

The Request: Hey I have a request! Arthur Fleck x deaf!reader(eventually). The reader was a clown for hire like Arthur and they we're both assigned a party to attend. They worked perfectly together, but Arthur didn't understand why Y/n never said a word only smiled and giggled. Arthur tries to talk with her but thinks shes not interested when she doesn't look at him. She just couldn't hear him. Fluff? Sweet?

Tagging: @vemazing ; @i-eat-mud ; @ultra-marine-scales ; @thekillingjoke-haha

Warnings: None

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x reader

Notes: so i changed a few things about it, but its mostly the same. I hope you like it!

You walked down the short hallway, following behind your new boss Hoyt. He turned to you after entering a small room, and you were able to read his lips. 

“This is where we get ready for gigs. Your locker is over here.” He said. You nodded and he pointed to a locker. “You have to be at the retirement home by 6. You’re going to be working with Arthur here” he walked over to a man sitting in front of a mirror. A brush in his hand, about to paint his face. He looked at you in the mirror, a meek smile crossing his face. You smiled back, waving slightly. He was a handsome, causing your breath to hitch. 

He leaned over Arthur’s shoulder, whispering something in his ear. You could see Arthur listen to him, and he nodded a bit. Hoyt walked away, winking at you as he disappeared down the hall. 

You set your things down and opened the locker, seeing the emptiness of it inviting. Like a new apartment. You opened your bag, pulling out your clown costume. A cute, bright purple dress with frills that bounced when you walked, and a green wig. After taking off your jacket, you slipped the dress on over your shirt. 

“Shit” you thought, forgetting the zipper, which was almost impossible to reach on your own. You decided to leave it for last, putting on your wig and your large clown shoes. 

Arthur looked up through the mirror at you, seeing you put on your green bouncy wig and your large shoes. He smiled a bit, finding the way you stumbled around nervously adorable. 

You looked around, wondering who you could ask to zip you up. Being the only girl clown they seemed to have, you felt you should be cautious of who you talked to. People are dangerous in Gotham, and not just outside on the streets. You looked over at Arthur, who was in the process of finishing his makeup and putting on his own green wig. You decided that he was your best bet, being your partner and all. You walked over to him and while you made your way over he seemed to notice, turning to look at you as you approached him. 

“Can you zip me up?” You asked softly. He nodded and you turned around. 

As he slowly pulled up the zipper, he worked up his confidence to speak to you. “I- I like your dress” he said, but you didn’t respond. The curves of your body mesmerized him as he finished with the zipper and snapped together a small clip. You just turned around and smiled at him as you walked back to your bag. He looked at you confused, but shrugged it off. Maybe you didn’t hear him?

The retirement home wasn’t far from the office, and since it was nice you had asked Arthur if he’d be ok with walking. He had said yes, which surprised you. As you walked beside him, you could tell he was a nervous person. His hands fidgeted a lot. You were silent the whole time, feeling the vibrations of the subway below, and the cars driving by. A few times someone would walk by you, scaring the absolute shit out of you. Not being able to hear people was difficult, but you’d done it your whole life. The thing that was difficult was adapting to the city life, where nobody knew that you couldn’t hear. Those few times where someone would come up beside you with no warning, you nearly grabbed Arthur’s hand. The one time you did, you quickly removed it, worrying that he would be upset. 

“I normally work alone, so I’m sorry if I have a hard time adjusting to a partner...” Arthur said. You didn’t look at him. “You don’t mind?” He asked. Again, no response. she hates you he thought. Every time he looked at you, his heart swelled. you just met her Arthur he reminded himself. This did little to help his mind. 

You stood in the retirement home, looking at the half asleep elderly. You looked at Arthur who, who began his act. He pulled out a wand, showing it to anyone who would look. After a couple seconds he gestured to you. You smiled as he handed the wand to you, and once he let go it turned to rubber, bending in your hand. You gasped and pointed to it, earning a reaction from the elderly. You glanced at Arthur who simply stared at you. You nudged the wand towards him, and he got the hint. 

He twirled around and did a little dance before taking the wand from you and with a move of his hands, made it straight. You gasped once again, clapping your hands together and jumping up and down. Being a clown means being entertaining, and by god you were going to try your best. 

The gig lasted an hour, each magic trick proving to give little to no entertainment to the elderly people in front of you. That didn’t bother you though, because the only thing you could really think about was how well you worked with Arthur. Time and time again, gigs would become a bore when your partner would steal the show, leaving you off to the side to make funny faces, but Arthur? He let you do your skits, and sometimes even stepped off to the side to let you take the reigns for a while. You felt like he saw you as an equal in the show, something that felt new and welcoming. You found yourself looking forward to when he would touch your shoulder or hand. 

A man in the corner of the room waved his hand at you, catching your attention. He pointed at the clock coldly, telling you that your time was up. You looked to Arthur who also had seen. He grabbed your hand, and gestures to you to bow. You curtsied sweetly and gestured to him, as he bowed deeply. 

You packed up your props, and watched as Arthur walked over to the man. You could see the man say something to him, which caused Arthur to look down at the floor. what is he saying? you wondered, the man too far away to read his lips. 

As you zipped up your bag, Arthur approached you. “What did that man say to you?” You asked. You saw him sigh and read his lips. 

“It’s nothing. Called me a freak. It’s nothing new, don’t worry about it..” he trailed off. You frowned. Arthur wasn’t a freak. 

After picking up your things, you made your way to the front of the building. As you walked quickly, you could feel Arthur’s presence just behind you. Stepping onto the sidewalk, it was nearly dark out. “Shit” you whispered. You knew that Gotham wasn’t the safest city to begin with, but at nighttime it was a different story. You looked to Arthur, who seemed unaffected by the darkness of the city. He began walking in the direction of the office, but you reached your hand out and grabbed his. “Arthur?” You said quietly. He turned to you and it looked like his eyes softened at the sight of your nervous face. “I don’t feel safe walking” you looked around and it seemed like every shadow was a threat. 

“It’ll be alright” he said, moving to face you. “I’ll be here if something happens” he assured you. You nodded and walked to his side, not letting go of his hand. 

“Do you mind?” You asked. Looking at your hand in his own. He shook his head and you could feel his hand tighten around your own. 

shes scared arthur he thought to himself. shes scared and you have to protect her Arthur wasn’t sure why he felt so protective over you, it seemed like a part of him just needed to be by your side. “No I don’t mind at all” he whispered, and expected you to look to him, but you didn’t. why won’t she look at me? he asked himself, and worried that maybe you thought he was a freak.

You made it back to the office safely, and it was just the two of you in dressing room. You placed your things down and sighed. After you’d removed your makeup and wig, you looked over to Arthur, who had no face paint on, shirtless. He was staring down at a notebook, and you wondered what he was writing. 

You looked at his face in the mirror. He was extremely handsome, the second time you’d thought that today. The smirk that toyed on his lips caused your stomach to flip. He seemed to have noticed your staring, looking up a few seconds later. You felt your cheeks become red, and walked towards him. You pointed to your back, and he got the message, standing up as you turned around. 

His large hand rested on your shoulder as his other unzipped you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. 

Arthur thought that his hand felt wrong against your soft skin. How could someone so delicate let him touch them? Once he reached the bottom he removed his hand and watched you walk back to your bag. You put your dress in the bag, and wrapped yourself up in your large jacket. “I’ll see you tomorrow” you said as you turned to him. He smiled, buttoning up his shirt. 

A grin spread across your face, and you opened the door. As you stepped onto the dark street, a sense of dread washed over you. Walking home was never an easy thing, but there’s no way you could ask Arthur to walk you home. He probably lives halfway across the city.

As you walked through the streets of Gotham, you realized something. Every time you turned a corner, you could spot someone behind you, just slightly. You shrugged it off as normal, people were everywhere in Gotham. 

Walking down a dark and empty street, your mind wandered to Arthur. He had been so sweet to you when you were afraid to walk back to the office, and when he was ok with holding your hand. 

A couple yards behind you, Arthur slowly walked, making sure you made it home safely. His mother could wait a couple more minutes. As he kept watch, he saw someone approaching you. Arthur saw the glimmer of a knife in his pocket, and he knew you were in danger. “Y/N!” He yelled, throwing out any hope to stay anonymous, but you just kept walking. “What the fuck!” He breathed to himself. Then, he felt himself running. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a man who had been walking in your direction. “Put your fucking hands up bitch!” He yelled, running towards you. Your eyes widened, unsure of what to do. You raised your hands, dropping your bag. The man suddenly looked behind you, and before you could even look around, someone came from behind you and punched the man. 

You gasped, stumbling back a few feet. “Arthur?” You whispered. Arthur proceeded to punch the man, a knife falling out of his hand. You looked at it, realizing what he had in store for you if Arthur hadn’t been there. After a few more punches, Arthur stood up and looked down at the man. 

“Leave” Arthur said in a harsh tone. The man slowly stood up, reaching for his knife. Arthur stepped on it before he could, making the man unable to grab it. He huffed and ran away, leaving Arthur and you alone. Before you could say anything, he began to laugh. You looked at him confused until he finally subsided. “I have a condition…” he muttered.

He looked up to you, a look of concern replacing his firm look. “Why didn’t you turn to me?” he asked. You cocked your head, confused. “I called out to you, and you ignored me. In fact, it seems like you’ve been ignoring me all day. Did I do something?” He asked, and your mind finally put the puzzle pieces together. 

“I’m deaf” you stated bluntly. He stepped back. 

“It all makes sense now” he said. “But how can you…” he pointed to your lips.

“I can read lips” you giggled. He really didn’t know? You thought it was obvious. 

“And how can you speak?” He asked. 

“Years and years of speech therapy.” you smiled, leaning over to pick up your bag. 

“Im- im sorry” he said. You smiled at him.

“I thought Hoyt had told you, but I was wrong. I’m surprised it took so long for you to notice.”

Arthur thought back to every single instance that day that should’ve given him a hint.He smacked himself on the forehead. “Stupid” he said. 

“No, you’re not stupid. You actually an amazing clown, better than I’ll ever be…” you trailed off. He smiled at you and his heart softened. No one had ever complimented his work as a clown. You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his large torso. You felt him tense slightly and relax a moment later. His arms enveloped you. A few seconds later he pulled away far enough for you to read his lips. 

“Do you think…” he started. “Do you think I could take you out for a drink sometime?” It had taken the entire day to work up the courage to ask you, he had thought about it moments after meeting you. 

“I’d love that Arthur.”

** Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it **

[whimperwoods]

Arms of the Enemy Repost

For some reason this post was wigging out when I tried to look at it on mobile while I was working on part 4? Sorry if you were excited for part 4, which is still in progress, but I wanted a working copy of this I could see on my phone/tablet.

Here are part 1 and part 2

Castor is a warlock, in service to the Great Old One and the Dark Emperor, in that order. Ed is a fighter, a knight and battle master in the service of the True King of Lumenea. They have always been enemies. In the space between the Old One and the Emperor, they might be able to become something else.

(Also Ed has gained the (minimal) benefits of a short rest, and Castor is beginning to realize he has, yet again, followed an impulse with more strings attached than he was fully prepared for.)

tw: blood, tw: mind control, tw: telepathy/mental voices, tw: panic, tw: flashbacks (ish), tw: torture mention

***************

When Ed came to, his head and part of his torso were resting on something soft. The air around him was cold, but the thing under him was warm, and he curled instinctively toward it, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain of moving. He groaned, turning his face into the warmth of whatever he was lying on.

“It’s alright,” an unfamiliar voice said softly, “You’re safe, now.”

Something cool and damp swept gently down the back of his neck and then continued over his shoulder blade. The hand holding the cloth was careful and It felt good where he was only bruised. Where it crossed raised welts and open cuts, it burned and stung, drawing a soft, unconscious whine from his throat. He tried to twist out of the way and only made things worse as the motion sent waves of fire shooting through the rest of his back and shoulders.

The damp cloth moved away in response to his grunt of pain.

He opened his eyes, and found himself with his head in someone’s lap, blinking in confusion.

There was a soft splashing sound behind him, close but not immediately beside him, perhaps an arm’s reach away. He tried to force his head up, finding the angle unexpectedly disorienting and twisting his head at an unnatural angle, only mostly toward the head of the person touching him. The person’s face was unreadable at this angle, only partially illuminated by a faint light off to the side.

The person’s other hand hovered beside Ed’s head for a moment, and then moved tentatively to sweep his hair back from his forehead. “You’re alright,” the voice said quietly, “I was afraid you might already be infected, but I don’t think you have a fever.”

Ed forced himself upward, getting a hand on the ground beside the stranger’s thigh and pushing himself into a half-sitting position with the full strength of his body, core muscles clenching sorely and arm shaking under him with the effort.

As soon as he was upright enough to get a look at the stranger’s face from an angle that was better lit, recognition and memory both clicked into place at once and he found himself crying out, in a harsh, frightened shout he’d never have allowed himself if he were fully awake.

Castor the Black held his hands up, palms forward, and Ed flinched, falling backward as he flung his arms over his face to protect himself from the incoming spell.

He landed hard, jarring his shoulders and ribs and feeling old cuts split back open. He held back the cry this time, clenching his jaw and breathing hard through his nose, his core still clenched tight. He couldn’t let Castor the Black see him this way. He couldn’t.

He’d tipped instinctively forward after he landed, leaning toward the mage as he caught himself, but he couldn’t stand that, either. He forced himself to move back, putting distance between him and his enemy in halting, jerky inches.

Wriggling backward made his body shake harder, quivering with effort, but he kept going, his eyes hardening into a glare even as he knew it wouldn’t be enough to disguise his weakness.

*****

Castor sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. Sir Edmond was trying to get away from him again, and the spell he’d cast on the dungeon guards was already running out. He didn’t need this.

Lowering his hand, he watched tiredly as Sir Edmond continued to wriggle, moving in frantic little jerks away from him. If Castor had slept, if he’d even taken proper time to sit instead of putting in the effort to start on the man’s wounds while he wasn’t awake to feel them, he might have been able to do something about it.

“Will you please calm down?” he asked, “I just need you to cooperate, so we don’t get caught out here before I can get us somewhere safer.”

The knight froze, his eyes locking onto Castor’s with a wide, wild expression.

Castor tasted honey on his tongue, felt the air thickening in his mouth, and almost lost the spell, surprised to be casting it at all. He’d given this spell up, forgotten it as he learned better ways to control what happened around him than mere suggestion. But here it was, happening.

Sir Edmond’s mouth curled into an angry sneer, his eyes lighting up with a familiar battle fire for the first time since Castor scooped him up off of the dungeon floor.

He was fighting the magic. Castor’s heart raced and he felt the spell get heavier in his mouth, thicker on his tongue. “Calm down!” he ordered, pushing harder at the magic.

He could feel it starting to connect, could see the knight’s eyes widen and narrow, widen and narrow, and then - the connection snapped. He and Sir Edmond stared at each other, both breathing heavily. The magic was gone.

Shit.

He held up his hands in front of himself, palms out, but the fire in Sir Edmond’s eyes was still there, dangerous and raging. “Wait!” Castor gasped, “Wait, that one was an accident! I’m not even supposed to be able to do that spell!”

*****

Ed had pushed up onto his arms in the adrenaline rush of having to fight for his own mind, and now he was straining, his arms on the edge of giving out, and he’d overexerted himself again. He focused on breathing, taking in great gasps of air that stretched his battered ribs painfully, but kept him upright.

“I swear! I never meant to cast it!”

Ed kept himself up, kept glaring, kept holding himself stiff and upright, and was too dizzy to make sense of what the mage was trying to say.

Castor the Black took a deep breath, as if to talk, then cut himself off, sighing instead. Ed couldn’t find the words he needed, either. Not when staying up on his arms, half sitting, not letting himself collapse, took so much effort. He growled at the mage, half ashamed, and continued to glare.

Then there was a voice directly in his head, Castor the Black’s voice, but the man’s mouth wasn’t moving, which he was certain couldn’t be good.

“Look, I - shit, I wasn’t gonna do this. I’m - I’m telepathic. I’m in your head. And if you push back hard enough, you can be in mine. I genuinely don’t want to hurt you. Not any worse than you’re already hurt. Push back at me and look. I won’t resist it.”

Something about the voice, about the way it was words and not words, made sense even as Ed’s mind spun. No. No. He couldn’t have the enemy in his head. Not like this. Not literally.

“Fuck you,” he thought, hoping it would make it through, somehow, “Just kill me. I don’t want to play your twisted little games.”

Castor the Black flinched. “That’s not what I said,” he answered, his body spreading its arms wide even as its mouth continued not to move, set in a stubborn line. “It’s not what I meant. Push back at me. Come on. Look. I won’t stop you.”

Ed could feel the edge of a compulsion in it, just the barest hint, not a full spell, but a hovering threat of magic. Well. The enemy mage wasn’t to know, but he could fight fire with fire. Or he could if he weren’t so tired, so ragged and desperate after all these weeks of torture, of being beaten and starved and kept awake.

He pushed back anyway, gathering all of what he had left and forcing it into the shape of the spell his sister had taught him. “Get out.” he thought, shoving against the mage’s presence in his mind with as much force as he had.

The mage grunted, a soft little noise, half surprise and half pain, and for a brief moment, Ed was filled with the bright flash of pride.

Oh. Oh. That was what the mage had meant.

He was still breathing hard, struggling to stay up on his arms, struggling not to collapse, but he felt his face twist into a grin. Yes. He could definitely fight fire with fire. Leave it to a mage to underestimate an opponent just because they didn’t have magic.

He steeled himself again, focusing on how it had felt to force the mage’s mind back, and shoved as hard as he could, jabbing his rage toward the not-voice like a knife.

*****

Castor tried to throw his mental shields back up when Sir Edmond’s face twisted into a cruel, bloody smile, one he’d never seen from this close before.

He was too slow.

Psychic communication was never quite words, but it was usually at least close. Now - now he found himself almost knocked over with the force of open, unfettered hostility the knight flung at his mind, incoherent and angry.

He gasped and braced his hands against the ground behind him to steady himself.

“Ow! Fuck!” Pain stabbed through his head, branching like lightning from the front of his head to the back.

“Stay out of my head.” Sir Edmond practically snarled, and Castor’s heart pounded in his chest.

“Yeah,” he answered, his voice sounding more tired than he meant to let it. “Shit. I will. I’m just trying to help.”

Sir Edmond’s face was growing pale, but he was still glaring fiercely, holding himself up on arms that quivered visibly. “Why?” he demanded.

Castor ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “I don’t know. Sometimes I just do things.”

Sir Edmond barked out a laugh, which turned into a cough hard enough to make his arms give out, but in spite of his instinct to reach out and try to catch him, Castor held still. It was becoming clearer and clearer that even as weak as he was, the knight wasn’t nearly as shattered as he’d seemed, or at least, something in him wasn’t.

*****

Ed could feel the energy draining from him with every cough, could feel himself weakening as he fought for breath, fought not to cry, fought to stay conscious against the pain and dizziness that almost blanked out everything else.

The mage looked rattled. He’d rattled him. He just had to keep the facade up long enough to be left here. He shouldn’t have tried to laugh. He shouldn’t have tried to play himself off so strongly, to ridicule the man when he was already so close to the edge.

But as he caught his breath, his body throbbing with pain left over from the convulsions even after they stopped, he regained what he could of his composure, focused intently on a single thought. Castor the Black was rattled, and that meant if he could feign strength for long enough, he might be able to make himself a way out.

He set his shoulder against the ground and kept his eyes locked fiercely onto the mage’s.“Why?” he asked again, gathering enough breath to spit the question out without letting it quaver.

The mage shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip. “I - what do you remember from the dungeon?”

The moment he thought of the cell he’d been left in, blood-spattered stone danced in front of his eyes, and he felt his throat threaten to close up, making it harder to breathe again. Panic filled him, electric and humming, like the moment before lightning struck on the battlefield. His throat hurt, and his chest felt constricted, but he couldn’t pass out again. He couldn’t. Not when he was so close.

He broke eye contact with the mage before the fear could become too obvious to the other man, twisting his head down and away as best he could and letting his glare relax so he could focus only on continuing to breathe, on feeling the air move around him, the grass under his hands where there used to be stone.

Was that - a threat? Or was it - guilt? Was he meant to be feeling guilt? He knew he had told his tormentors things. Things he shouldn’t have. He’d told them - oh gods - He took a deep, pained breath inward, forcing air into his lungs. That thought was dangerous. Murderous. Breath-stealing. He shoved it away. He had to keep breathing. Keep breathing. Breathe. Grass. Wind. Night. Breathing.

Ed was panting audibly now, his breaths ragged and his body half curling in on itself, the adrenaline that just moments ago had given him the strength to resist turning on him instead, threatening to make his racing heart rip itself from his body as his limbs sagged, weak and useless, on the ground.

The mage moved toward him, slowly and tentatively. He didn’t move away. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything but breathe.

“Shit,” the mage whispered, maybe to himself. Ed gasped for breath, too fast, but holding on this time, forcing the air deep enough into his lungs that he didn’t pass out.

A gentle hand stroked through his hair, and Ed made a horrid, choked noise he couldn’t explain.

*****

Castor was almost surprised not to be bitten or headbutted as he ran his fingers through Sir Edmond’s hair, trying to remember what, exactly, it was that his mom had done when he was young and afraid of the dark.

The knight’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut, the death glare that had looked, briefly, like the Sir Edmond he remembered gone again. The knight’s body shuddered with the effort of breathing, and all of a sudden, the man on the ground was the same helpless, broken figure Castor seen in his crystal.

“Look, I’m - I’m sorry about all of this,” he said quietly, “I know it’s - we both know what this is. The war, I mean. But I couldn’t - they’re going to beat you to death if I let you end up back in that dungeon. You’ve killed too many of the emperor’s men. Mine too, I guess, but it’s always been-”

He cut himself off. That was too much. He couldn’t tip his hand too far. Not when the real Sir Edmond was so clearly still in there, somewhere. And yet -

“It’s one thing to get you to talk. It’s another to drag your death out as long as they can. I’m - I’m going to hide you.”

That was it, wasn’t it? That was the decision he’d made back in his quarters, watching guards kick a naked, helpless thing already covered in blood, their target unable to protect itself, too weak to lift its head. He’d watched Sir Edmond fight for consciousness, fight to live through the pain. Then again, he’d seen something else, now, had seen that fight turn familiar and deadly, but he couldn’t - could he really -

No. He’d made his choice. He ran his fingers through the man’s dark, sweat-soaked hair again, studying Sir Edmond’s face as the man’s eyes fluttered open again, half-absent and staring as he continued to fight, desperate and weak and alive, hanging on by his fingernails.

Sir Edmond didn’t seem all here, caught up in a fight against his own ravaged body, but he wasn’t fighting Castor right now, so - so he wasn’t fighting Castor right now.

Castor sighed, relaxing and easing himself down to sit beside the man instead of kneeling awkwardly over him.

He ran his fingers through Sir Edmond’s hair, becoming gradually aware that not all of the dampness on his fingers was sweat. He’d have to wash the knight’s hair if he wanted to get all the blood out, but that was a problem for a whole other world, a world with time and trust and a safer place to hide.

He breathed slowly, evenly, keeping himself calm and stroking Sir Edmond’s hair, trying to keep the confusing mess of his own emotions under control. He regretted and did not regret and waited for Sir Edmond to stabilize enough to move, watching blood ooze slowly from one of the clean cuts, reopened in the violence of coughing and moving and panic.

This might be a very long night.

[forever-more-never-again]

False Fight (A Request)

Requested: Anonymous

Word Count: 1592

Pairings: Tom Holland X Reader (Hehe), Chris Evans X Reader

Warnings: Mild Sexual innuendos

a/n: This can be read as a standalone fic, or a prequel to my works

False Rumors and/or a different take on False Thoughts

Masterlist

Request: Hello bub, i LOVE your blog and writing. Can I request an imagine where in the reader and tom holland, decides to prank the whole avengers cast by fake fighting. It's up to you what they "fight" about. Like they make it seem so heated that they even get on each others' face but turns it was just a prank hahaha. Thank you❤️

You were sitting by yourself in your trailer, reviewing your lines for your next scene, when your idle peace was interrupted by a loud bang!

Startling so bad, your papers went flying everywhere, you whirled around to your trailer door with your hand on your chest. Your heart threatening to jump right out of your chest.

“Tom!?”

Standing in the doorway with a shit eating grin on his face was your coworker Tom Holland.

“[Y/n]! I just had the best idea!”

Now that your mind had caught up to your sight, your heart rate slowed back down. Taking a deep calming breath, you began picking up the pieces of your script, trying to remember the order it was in.

“If this is another one of your silly pranks war with Anthony or Seb, then I’m out. The last time you drug me in, I was washing Mayonnaise out of my hair for weeks.”

Even with the tone of exasperation in your voice, you let a small smile slip onto your face as you remembered the prank that led to your hairs demise.

Tom laughed as well, most likely remembering the same thing, “Oh come on, [Y/n]! Did you see the way Chris laughed after?”

You winced slightly, heat rushing to the tips of your ears at the mention of your crush on the older man.

“Don’t go bringing out the big guns Tom. My answer is no.” You shook your finger in warning.

Sauntering further into your trailer, ignoring you as you attempted to go back to practicing your lines, he began digging through your makeup dresser.

Feigning Nonchalance, he spoke up, “Did you see the latest gossip magazine this morning?”

Deciding you weren’t going to be able to practice while Tom was still in your trailer, you put the papers aside and leaned forward and rested your chin on your fist as you smirked at the young man, “No. Can’t say I have. What is it this time? ELizabeth Olsen is just Joe Russo in a wig?”

Tom caught your eyes in the mirror, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “No. The front page is a photo of us from when we were walking after lunch on Hollywood Boulevard. It says were secretly dating.”

You paled. Normally you didn’t give gossip magazines the time of day to think about. But for one of them to say you and Tom were dating? What would Chris Evans think? The man you had a crush on and was hoping one of these days he would ask you out no matter the age difference between the two of you.

Knowing he had your attention now, Tom walked to your side and leaned down, “So...My idea…”

Giving up, you looked up at him with a reluctant grin, “What did you have in mind?”

Two hours later, you were in costume, fidgeting on the edge of the set, anxious for the signal you and Tom had agreed about in your trailer.

Your gaze kept straying over to where Chris was standing, talking to Anthony and Seb. Their scene having just finished. Your gut clenched as you thought about how this was the last time Chris would be on this set. Having Lobby Hero starting in just a few short months.

Your melancholy thoughts of your hopeless crush were interrupted by a crash from your left accompanied by a shrill scream.

“[Y/n]! You little backstabber!”

Putting your acting skills to use, you plastered a confused hesitant smile on your face as you turned to face a bright red in the face, Tom.

Your grin threatened to slip into a hysterical laugh at the light in Tom’s eyes. He was enjoying this.

His scream caught everyone’s attention.

The makeup artist pausing and looking over, the directors glancing at each other wondering what was happening, the camera crew pointing their cameras, wondering if this was part of the scene, and Chris, Anthony and Seb looking scared and eyes bouncing between you and Tom.

“Tom...what is it?”

Tom stomped right up into your face, pointing a finger dangerously close to your eye, and then he snarled, “You told the press about our relationship! Now Zendaya is saying she won’t work with a cheater! I told you I wasn’t going to cut off my relationship with her! You’re just a jealous witch who wants me all to herself!”

You frowned sternly, pinching yourself surreptitiously to produce watery looking eyes as you looked away ashamed, “It’s true. I told the press about us. But it’s because I just want you to be with me! Not Anyone else! You’re the only one for me MunchButtkins!”

The ridiculous nickname made Tom shudder, for anyone not looking to closely, it would look like a loss of resolve, hesitance, but for you who were right up in his face, you saw it for what it was, an almost break in character as he coughed back a laugh.

“It’s too late! I’m sorry ConfettiCakeMarshmallow, but I love Zendaya! And don’t think I didn’t find out about you and Anthony!”

At his name, Anthony started so violently, you thought he was going to fall for a second. Sparing a peak at the man beside him, you saw the sorrow and slight anger on Chris’s face. You hesitated. Would Chris actually want to date you after this stunt? WOuld he believe that you were a cheater?

“I..I-I never-I mean-I..WHat!?” Anthony screamed, hands coming up to grip his hair, his face portraying utter confusion.

You pouted at him, “Oh don’t pretend Makster. You enjoyed that night as much as I did. Even though your gear is more suited to Ant Man than Falcon.” You glanced very obviously down at his crotch.

Sebastian began howling with laughter, his hands slapping the back of Anthony’s back. The poor man looking like he was questioning all his life choices.

While Chris squinted hard at you, and then Tom, making both of you squirm internally.

“Exactly! SO goodbye [Y/n]! You broke my heart and now I will break-”

You gasped dramatically, “ You wouldn’t!”

Tom giggled, “I would! I will break-” He pulled out from his pants pocket...a sticker tattoo, which he began to dramatically rip in half, “The prize you won at Pizza Hut!”

You collapsed to your knees, wailing loudly, “NOOOO!”

At that, both you and Tom dissolved into hysterical laughter that you had been holding back the whole time.

Anthony looked confused for a second before you could see the metaphorical light bulb go off in his head. He grinned, shaking his head at the pair of you, “You two got me good. Had me going there for a moment thinking I hooked up with [Y/n] without realizing it.”

Seb piped in as well, “Yeah, If I hadn’t seen the gossip magazine this morning, you would have had me fooled. And the best part had been comparing Anthony to Ant Man!”

Anthony grimaced, leveling you with a desperate look, “Was that part really necessary?”

You shrugged, your smile stretching across your face as you stood back up and dusted off your knees.

Slowly, everyone who had tuned into the drama began returning to their duties as they realized it had been a prank between the men again.

Everyone that is...except Chris.

You watched in apprehension as he approached Tom and pulled him aside with a grim look.

You didn’t have time to follow them or wonder what was going on because you were called to set and had to begin your scene.

A few hours later, tired and sore, you trudged back to your trailer in the lot.

A silhouette of someone standing by your door had you pulling up short.

Squinting in the faint light of dusk, you barely made out the wide shoulders and chiseled features.

Bright blue eyes peering over at you signaled who it was. “Chris?”

A soft chuckle, boyish in quality, filled the air. 

Taking another small step forward, you wrung your hands together in front of you, not looking up at the man again as word began pouring from your mouth, “I hope you didn’t think that was real. And I’m not a cheater! Or a homewrecker! Tom talked me into another one of his pranks with the boys and after the last time with the mayonesse I really didn’t want to butheconvincedmethatitwouldgrabyoursttentionandohgodihaveareallybigcrushonyoueventhoughyouareolderthanmeandwehavethatbigagedifferencebutmymotheralwayssaidageisjustanumberandireallyhopethisdoesntmakethingsawkwardand-”

Your mad rambling was cut off as lips surged down and captured yours.

A muffled yelp and then you melted into the embrace.

Rough, warm hands encircled your waist as a tongue ran over your bottom lip, drawing a moan from you.

Pulling back with heavy hesitance, you looked up at the mirthful smirk of one Chris Evans.

“You talk a lot.”

You laughed, “Yeah I get that.”

Chris sighed, letting you go, and you immediately missed the warmth of his hands.

“I talked to Tom. He told me what was going on. And I had to confirm that you actually weren’t dating. I’m not one to go after a taken woman.”

You gasped, barely daring to hope.

He smiled down at you, taking one of your hands in his, “[Y/n]. I was going to ask you before the first showing of Lobby Hero in a few months from now, but I can’t wait. Would you be willing to go out with me?”

Your heart swelled and threatened to burst as tears sprung to your eyes, “Yes!”

And lips were once again on yours, downing you in desires you had only ever imagined.

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @mialeelavellan @rainydaysrnevergrey  @platonic-plots @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @ayyidkeither @queenbbarnes @mythixmagic @chas-z @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @princess-evans-addict @rororo06 @timelordhunterandmysterysolver

Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc @marvel-is-a-mood

[bnhvrdy]

Pretty Girl

Pairing: Ben Hardy x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, swearing, fluff

words: 3k

Request: Can you do a fic where the reader gets hot and bothered when she sees ben hardy dressed as rogerina and he fucks her in his trailer while wearing the wig and the whole shabang? xoxo - hope you all enjoy!

Almost silent snores mixed with the blaring of the four-a.m. alarm, a small groan pushed past Ben’s lips.

Eyes closed, his hand mindlessly reached for his annoying iPhone. Empty-handed, Ben pried an eye open only to remember that he purposely placed the resonating piece of shit by the door, a way to really get him up for the early-call of the day’s scene.

Carefully, Ben inched his arm away from the sleeping figure beside him. Once his arm was freed, a small hand wrapped around his bicep and tugged him back towards herself.

“Don’t go,” [Y/n] muttered sleepily.

His eyes scanned her face. Baby hairs curled around her face, her lips slightly swollen and a dry drool stain streaked on the skin that lead from the corner of her mouth to her chin. The black hood of his own sweater hid the rest of her head, a halo of black around her through the darkness mixed with the intruding street and building lights that pushed through the window of the trailer’s bedroom.

Ben rubbed his eye, his lips against her forehead. [Y/n] scooted closer, any attempt to curl her body into his and tempt him back into their joint peaceful slumber. He brushed the little curls from her face into the hoodie and pressed another kiss to her forehead.

“I have to get to set, baby. Sleep in,” Ben murmured huskily into her skin. The grip on his bicep went slack, [Y/n]’s soft snores joined the phone’s blaring that he completely forgot about.

The next time [Y/n] fully woke up, the temptation of sleep almost lulled her right back in. It would have succeeded had she not peeked open her eye and noticed her lover’s body missing.

She couldn’t clearly recall him leaving; all she could recall was that damn ringtone that he refused to change for his alarms. She always teased him for sticking to the default; his rebuttal each time was that he hated it so much, he’d have no choice but to wake in the morning to turn off the damn thing.

[Y/n] smiled to herself, hearing his counter-argument ring in his voice through her head. Arms stretched over her head but under her pillow, toes pointed towards the end of bed and her calves tensing, her chest heaving upwards and her head tilted back with her face scrunched, she released a loud mix of a moan and groan. She rolled herself out of bed, pulling up the sweatpants she stole from Ben and rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie.

With a quick twist to each side and a satisfying crack from her back, [Y/n] looked around the room before she decided to keep the sweatpants but change into a loose shirt with a sports bra underneath.

Just before walking out, [Y/n] noticed the note scribbled in purple dry erase marker on the mirror that covered the entire wall opposite the bed.

On set when you wake up. Music vid shoot today, building c. Get yourself a coffee and anything else. Already paid. See you soon xx

With a coffee in hand and breakfast sandwich in the other, [Y/n] made her way to Building C of the Lot and pushed the door open with her elbow before she sneaked past. A couple quick “good mornings” as she walked towards the set with her coffee cup pressed to her lips and paper bag to her chest.

A small gasp left her lips as she looked around, not believing where she was. She was standing in an exact replica of the iconic Queen music video. The couch and single seat between the coffee table, the kitchen on the other side of the wall, the duster that would be in Rami’s hands as he danced around.

The boys were nowhere to be seen yet, but she couldn’t imagine what it would be like. Rami in a leather mini skirt and wig with a mustache, Gwilym in a night gown and colorful curlers in his wig, Joe with a greyed wig and little bucket hat, Ben in a skirt with his thighs exposed and…She bit her lip with an eyebrow quirked. She took a quick glance around the room, looking for any indication that the boys were going to show themselves.

The sound of her name called out caused [Y/n] to turn around, spotting Joe and Gwilym. Not being able to contain her laughter, she spat out a bit of her coffee before bursting into a little fit. Joe strutted in response, his newspaper acted as a fan. Gwilym wiggled his eyebrows at her as his hands placed themselves onto his hips. Another laugh erupted from her, only cut short with the sound of a wolf whistle.

[Y/n] glanced out and felt her breath stop short. An uncontrollable heat passed through her body and settled in her core at the sight before her.

His pouty lips were coated in pink lip gloss, the soft glow radiating from his cheek bones, the long blonde hair framing his face perfectly, his sheer black pantyhose deliciously stretched over his thick thighs. Her eyes roamed over his figure a few more times before their eyes met, a knowing smirk on Ben’s lips and a sly smile on her own. She felt the heat rushing to her cheeks, growing hotter in her belly.

“I see you got my note,” Ben chuckled and reached for [Y/n]’s coffee. She’d normally playfully yank it away from, pointing out that he should have gotten his own, but her attention was on how beautifully the pink gloss sat on his puckered lips. It took Ben moving her coffee right in front of her for her to blink, focusing her attention anywhere but Ben’s glittery pink lips.

Ben’s lips moved, his words not heard. A lazy, satisfied smile splayed across [Y/n]’s face and with a small step forward, she reached for a lock of blonde hair and twirled it carefully between her fingers. The golden lock slipped past her fingers, her hand now sat dangerously close to the first button of the white shirt.

“You look so pretty, baby,” [Y/n] disclosed loud enough for herself and for Ben to stop talking.

Ben’s eyes stayed on her face. He watched her eyes droop down, her finger alternated between flicking against the first button of his shirt and tugging at the string of the hat that sat on his back; through those half-lidded eyes, he was sure that her irises completely disappeared, hiding behind her full-blown pupils.

“You are so pretty, baby,” she cooed, her hand moved back to his hair, mindlessly (more like pretending to) fixing the locks she played with and stepped closer so that her lips brushed against his chin.

Ben swallowed; his eyes took a quick glance around the room to reassure himself that no one way paying attention to the way his girlfriend pressed herself to him. He wasn’t sure if anybody could tell he was blushing underneath the full-coverage foundation, but he could feel the heat crawl its way up his neck and onto his face, some of it traveling down south. He wasn’t sure how he’d pull off an erection in a skirt that was above his midthighs.

“What’s going through that head of yours, pretty girl” Ben urged. [Y/n] peeked up at him through her eyelashes, her lip worried between her teeth, her hand brushed against the belt of his skirt. The heat in his body grew hotter, his body pressed closer to hers to cover his growing erection. His lips pressed to her warm cheek, a low whimper came from her.

“Is it the lip gloss” his hand cupped her chin, thumb brushed across her bottom lip, “is it the hair,” his eyes glanced around before pushing his thumb past her lips and into her mouth, “or is it the way the skirt hugs my legs?”

With her eyes rolling into the back of her head, [Y/n] sucked on his thumb, eliciting a soft groan and a flutter of his eyes as she swirled her tongue around, seconds before moving away, letting go with a pop.

“All of it,” [Y/n] answered, almost breathlessly, eyelashes batting up at him.

Her nails raked down his chest, his torso, fingers brushed past the soft material of his skirt, nails dragging down his thighs with a little more force. Ben looked down, his eyes glued to the tears in his pantyhose. He glanced up, a sly and sultry smile on [Y/n]’s face.

“Oops,” she played off innocently, pushing her way through the crowd and towards the door, a wink thrown Ben’s way as she exited.

Ben groaned internally. He called to one of the assistant director’s, notifying them that he somehowmanaged to tear the pantyhose, that he’d be right back for the scene after he changed into a new pair. He pushed his way through the crowd, following the path of his girlfriend, a brief stop and playful glare towards a knowing and giggling Joe.

The first thing Ben noticed when he entered his trailer was [Y/n] sitting on the small kitchenette counter, one leg cross over the over, her foot bouncing, and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. A sly grin spread across his gloss-covered lips, he made his way towards her. Her legs uncrossed and spread, allowing him access, his hands settled on the counter on the sides of her legs. His nose brushed against her jaw, a quick intake from her side.

“Mm,” Ben hummed, his bangs tickling her skin. “You look so pretty right now, baby,” Ben whispered, his lips ghosting over her skin. “All hot and bothered. Just because of me, isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

His left hand moved to her thigh, a squeeze when she took too long to respond.

“Yes,” she breathed out, “God, yes.”

Ben hummed in satisfaction, his nose ran up her throat and up to the sweet spot just below her ear. A deep chuckled left his lips, a smile tugged at his lips.

“Is it because you want to know what it feels like to have my glossed lips on your skin? Pressed against each and every inch? Or is it that you want me to fuck you good while I’m wearing the skirt? Hmm?” Ben teased and finally pressed his lips to her sweet spot. A quiet moan and her head lulling to the side at the simple feeling, the way the gloss stuck to her skin as his lips pulled away.

“Anything else, pretty girl?” Ben murmured, his finger trailing down her chest and down the valley of her breasts, dipping into the waistband of her (his) sweatpants. Her chest heaved up and down, another one of his fingers slipping into the waistband and fingering the waistband of her panties.

“I want to fuck myself on your thighs,” [Y/n] whimpered, her hands gripped the edge of the counter.

“Yeah, pretty girl?” Ben implored. His hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling her closer. [Y/n]’s legs wrapped around his waist, crossing at the ankles. A small grind of her hips against his caused Ben to groan his hands moving from her thighs to her ass and he moved them both to the couch.

Her hands went down to his thigh, her nails dragging up and down the small tears. She looked at him, her eyes completely black, silently begging him to let her finish the job. He responded by pushing himself lower on the couch, his black skirt riding up and revealing his garter, his arms thrown over the back of the couch with an arched eyebrow.

With a swift movement, [Y/n] ripped the pantyhose off that entire leg. Fingers trailed over every inch of skin and muscle, the tips dipping into the garter, causing Ben to shiver, his hand moving to hold her face.

“Strip for me, pretty girl. Let me see you,” Ben exhorted.

[Y/n] all but ripped off her clothes. She settled herself back onto Ben’s exposed thigh, her wet pussy on his bare skin. They moaned at the sensation. [Y/n]’s hands on Ben’s shoulders, his own on her bare hip, helping her move, helping her fuck herself on his thigh.

Moans filled the trailer, Ben’s eyes trained on the patch of glistening skin of his thigh. She ground herself harder onto the tense muscle, faster as she felt her slick cover both of their thighs. Her hands grip onto his shoulder, her hips rocking herself against faster and faster. Ben tenses his leg and lifts it up, a gasp escapes her lips as it hits her clit so deliciously well.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered

Ben’s hands found her hips and he’s guided her movements, pulling her higher onto his thigh. Her clit caught on the garter and her forehead is pressed against his neck, her mouth opened in a silent scream and her body is shaking from her high.

“Good girl,” Ben breathed, his hands pushing her down onto his thigh. Little sighs and gasps left her lips as she moved back to look at him. Her eyes moved down to his thigh, soaked along with the garter. She moaned at the sight before looking back at him.

“We’ve got to make this one quick, baby,” Ben urged. His hand tapped [Y/n]’s thigh, she climbed off, positioning herself on her hands and knees. Ben’s hands moved to the waistband of the black skirt and [Y/n] frantically told called him to stop. Ben’s thumb hooked into the waistband, his eyes on her and eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Keep the skirt on,” [Y/n] blurted. Ben paused for a moment, his lips parted and eyes growing darker. His hands frantically pulled down his underwear and pulled the skirt up higher, his hand stroking his cock while he positioned himself behind her.

            “Yeah?” Ben breathed. His free hand ran down her rear, to her back, pushing her down until she was on her elbows. [Y/n]’s face pressed into a pillow, whimpers of anticipation leaving her lips as she pushed herself back.

           His cock pushed into her elicited a breathy moan, [Y/n]’s legs quivering. She’s thankful for Ben’s hand on her hip, her hands gripping the edge of the pillow below her. She’s laid back on her elbows, her lips parted at the full feeling of Ben’s cock in her wet pussy, the heat in her belly building when she felt the skirt brush against her skin.

           “Fuck,” [Y/n] breathed.

           His pace started slow, Ben reveled in the way her velvet walls clenched around him, sending him into euphoria. [Y/n]’s mewling at how well he fits, the fullness of his cock in her, how deep he reaches.

           Ben’s movements picked up in speed, his hips rolling against [Y/n]’s. Bruising on her skin could feel from his tight hold on her hips, keeping her from falling over. His cock drives in and out of her, the fabric of the skirt brushing against your skin with each and every movement. His lips kiss her back, any remains of the pink gloss smeared over her sweaty skin.

           “Such a pretty girl,” Ben murmured, his hand moving from [Y/n]’s hip, down to her clit. His finger skillfully toying with her nub, her mouth parted open and cries of pleasure, his name on her lips.

           [Y/n]’s cheek pressed into the pillow, her gasps and pleas for him to make her cum elicit a groan from him. He can tell how close she is by the way she’s clenches around him, how breathy her voice gets, her back arched and her skin hot.

           [Y/n] cried out frustration when her walls clenched around nothing. Moments later, she’s on her back with her legs wrapped around Ben’s waist. His hands laid beside her head, her own gripping onto his back; she desperately wished he was shirtless.

           “C’mon, baby,” Ben coaxed.

           His hips rolled, thighs beginning to tremble at how well she takes him. She mewled at how beautiful he looks, fucking her in the skirt and his makeup all done. The knot in her belly on the verge of snapping with the way the skirt brushes against her clit every time he pumps himself in and out of her soaked pussy. Her head’s thrown back, mouth open and silent screams ripping through her body when his hand slithers down, thumb rubbing her sensitive nub in tight circles, the skirt’s fabric tickling her hot skin.

           “Let go, pretty girl. I got you,” Ben grunted.

           White spots cloud her vision, [Y/n] gasped and her body arched off the couch. Body covered in a sheen layer of sweat and the scent of sex wafts through the trailer. Ben’s grunts, his movements sloppy and fast as he chases his high and helps [Y/n] ride out hers.        

           He groaned, his hips stuttering, lips hovered over [Y/n]’s. She’s looking up at him with her eyes hooded, a tired smile on her lips. Ben presses a soft kiss to her, swallowing her gasp when he pulls himself out. The skirt brushes against her sensitive pussy, her body aching deliciously.

           Ben stood on his knees, tucking his hair behind his ear and [Y/n] laughed/ Ben quirked a perfectly filled eyebrow in question, mouth open and ready to question her but never saying it, the trailer filled with furious knocks on the door.

           “Ben! You’ve been due back on set twenty minutes ago!” a muffled voice shouted.

           Ben quickly grabbed his underwear, pulling them on and grabbing his phone before [Y/n] called out to him. He turned, his eyes glued back onto her spent body and the way she’s sitting up on her elbows.

           “Extra pantyhose in the bag on the table,” [Y/n] giggled blissfully.

           Ben grabs the back, running to her and pressing his lips to her red, bitten ones. He’s about to murmur something about seeing you later when the knocks return.

           “Come back in the outfit,” [Y/n] commands.

           “I’m plannin’ onit,” Ben cheekily replied, his lips spread into a grin and sends her a wink before he closed the door behind him.

           She loved that outfit.

tagging some mutuals! : @benshvrdy, @rogersben, @silvver-rose, @nomadsgrogers, @brownhardyho, @mazzelloplots, @rogermeaddows, @1-800-ugly-godess, @queenscoolcat

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

Sure Feels Right Ch. 5

I promise things will pick up. I just really want to lay the foundation for how these three come together

Taglist: @hllywdwhre, @xxkellsvixen19xx

Warnings: None really

2019

@LuxBeALady:Just wait till Kells drops this heat on y’all tonight 😈                                 \@machinggunkelly:They don’t want this smoke 😂😈

Colson was dropping “I Think I’m OKAY” tonight and Lux was excited to help promote it with him. It was one of her favorites off the new album and now she could publically boast about it. Getting to experience him making it with Yungblud had been a blast and she just had a feeling that this was gonna be the game changer for Colson. To top off her excitement, she was also getting a new tattoo tonight, but nobody else was aware of that. She had made up an excuse in order to get away from the boys saying she needed to run errands in the town they were in for the night. She loved them immensely, but their overbearing nature was making it difficult to get any alone time. She shook her head and sighed walking into the only shop she had been lucky enough to get into on short notice.

“Hello you must be Lux” The lady behind the counter said smiling and reaching to shake her hand. Lux took her hand and admired her features. She was cute with a pink flowy wig, steampunk goggles on her head, and a corset that pushed her chest into her throat.

“Yes I am. Thank you so much for fitting me in today” Lux smiled warmly.

“So let me show you what I have drawn up based on your description on the phone and we’ll go from there.” She lead her over to a table where she had drawn almost exactly what Lux had pictured in her head.

“Oh my gosh that’s perfect” Lux couldn’t believe she had gotten it right first try just from a phone conversation.

“Well awesome!” Let’s get you prepped and then we can get started on this sucker. My space is down the hall to the right.” She responded clasping her hands together clearly just as excited to have nailed the design.

“It’s gonna go on my left arm because I am right handed and I still need to be able to do things while it heals” Lux stated getting comfortable in the chair and resting her left arm palm up.

“Sounds good to me. Do you care if I play some music? I can’t stand the same 5 songs on the radio.” She asked plugging her phone into a little speaker.

“I would actually prefer that” Lux laughed and then laughed a little harder when the first song that played off the girl’s phone was “Hollywood Whore”. Lux couldn’t escape her boys even if she tried.

Colson was confused as to why he hadn’t seen or heard from Lux all damn day. He knew she said she had to go on a booze run for the bus and for backstage to pregame the concert with, but that usually didn’t take all day. He pulled out his phone to double check she hadn’t texted him and contemplated biting the bullet and texting her first. His mind must not have caught up with his hands because next thing he knew he was sending her a text message.

Colson: Where r u?

Lux: I ran away forever

Colson: Wait what!?

Lux: Chill. I’m kidding. Look

Lux sent a picture of her at the liquor store holding a bottle of Jameson kissing the label. Man was she cute. He couldn’t stop thinking about the night they had fallen asleep together out of his head. He was almost desperate to feel her embrace again. They would be staying at a hotel again tonight due to the fact that tomorrow was an off day and he hoped that she would stay in the hotel room with him again. He wanted to be able to hold her close against his chest this time and bury his face in her hair. Rubbing his hand down his face he groaned, he was so fucked.

Rook was drumming on his leg in anticipation, still after all these years of performing, he had pre-show anxiety. It disappeared the moment he would get on stage and normally Lux was there to help. She would distract him from the anxiety and he was sure she didn’t even know that she was doing it. Either by laying her head in his lap and forcing him to play with her hair, challenging him to a silly game of some sort, or just by talking to him about things that held her attention at the time. Rook hadn’t heard from her all day though and that was maybe increasing his anxiety a little bit. Colson and Ash said she had texted them at least once that day, but she hadn’t texted him?

“Hey whatcha thinking about?” Lux asked walking onto the bus with a few bags of alcohol and Colson trailing behind her with more bags.

“Uh nothing” His ears felt hot “Damn Lux this much alcohol should last us all tour.”

She fixed him with a devilish smile that he swears she learned from Colson. “You and I both know that that is not true”

“Hey what’s up with the bandage on your wrist?” Colson said going to grab her arm when she yanked it away from him.

“Nope no peeking until after the show” She scolded giving that same evil smirk.

“Wait is that for a tattoo?” Rook asked trying to get a peek

“I said after the show!” And that was that.

2017

“Come on it won’t be that bad!” Colson was trying to convince Lux to drink with him and the boys. She had only been working for Ash for 8 months and didn’t think it was appropriate. This was her first tour with them and she didn’t want to fuck it up.

“I can’t Kells. I gotta keep you guys in check” She sighed.

“What better way to keep a good eye on us than to party with us?” He was giving her the best puppy dog eyes that he could. Lux groaned and put her face in her hands. In the few months that she had worked for them she had learned that Kells had perfected the puppy dog eyes and he knew it.

“Fucking fine I will have a few drinks” She relented.

“Fuck yeah dude!” Kells and Rook high fived celebrating their small victory.

Lux was definitely not prepared for one of their parties. How did they fit so many women on a single bus? How were people navigating all of this? Why were Kells and Rook climbing the bus now? She was in way over her head here and was feeling slightly overwhelmed when she felt another shot being pressed into her hand by Slim, who was equally chaotic as the other boys just much more quiet. She eyed him suspiciously.

“Take the fucking shot pussy” Slim snickered and lifted his own shot into the air. Well while in Rome, Lux thought downing her own shot. Thank god she had the good sense to purchase extra tequila for tonight.

Lux was now feeling very warm despite there being less bodies on the bus in favor of going to party at a club. The tequila was making her giggly and outgoing laughing easily with the boys.

“You smoke?” Kells asked lighting what was probably at least his tenth joint in the last couple of hours.

“Uh yes, but not usually on the job” Lux slurred which caused her to frown. She needed to pull it together.

“Well tonight that changes” Kells smirked. “This is a drinking and smoking kind of job so you don’t need to act so responsible.”

“I would be stupid to turn down a joint from THE Machine Gun Kelly” Lux giggled thinking she was hilarious.

“Fucking yes!” Colson exclaimed “You’re EST fam now so get used to this shit.” Lux took the joint from him winking before taking a hit. She was feeling bold and confident with the liquid courage in her veins and did a perfect ghost. Kells was impressed by how well she did and how adorable she looked smoking his joint. He almost didn’t want to take it back and was kind of wishing they were the only two in the room.

“I have an idea.” Kells said taking the joint from her before taking a hit. Lux gave him a puzzled expression as he motioned for her to come closer. When she got in close enough distance he softly grabbed her chin and placed his mouth hovering over hers brushing their lips together. She opened her mouth and he released the smoke he was holding into hers as she inhaled. He leaned back and silently celebrated how red he had made her. Lux slowly exhaled the smoke afraid to let the moment pass too quickly.

“Thank you I think? For that?” Lux tried to joke and seem nonchalant, as if his mouth on her’s had not ignited a flame inside of her. She had something unreadable in her eyes that he wanted to know more about. He liked this girl and he was hoping that she wouldn’t be gone in a year’s time like all the other assistants that had come before her.

“Are you two going to stare at each other all fucking night? If so can you pass the joint so some of us can smoke it.” Rook said startling to two out of the staring contest they didn’t realize they had been having. Both faces turned red and Kells grumbled something under his breath before passing the joint to Rook.

Lux was stumbling through the bus trying to find her bunk again. She had woken up to pee, after being passed out for god knows how long, and everything was pitch black. She made her way from the bathroom and down the hall and felt the wall until she felt her bunk and climbed into her bed again. She must have forgotten how small these beds really were because she was barely in and already backed up against the wall. Not thinking twice about it she closed her eyes and was back asleep in no time.

Rook had been fucked up when he had gone to sleep, he knew that, but he was fairly certain that he had gone to bed by himself. He slowly cracked open his eyes to try to catch a glimpse of who was in bed with him wincing at the light shining into the bus. He saw a mess of dark hair across his pillow and he nearly had a heart attack. What was Lux doing in his bed? She rolled over and yawned before snuggling into his chest as he held his breath. Her eyelids snapped open and she looked up at Rook’s face. She gasped and jumped back so far she fell out of the bunk and landed on her butt. She was so fired she just knew it.

“What are you doing in my bunk? Oh god we didn’t fuck did we? I can not afford to lose this job” Lux was suddenly rambling still laying on the floor.

“First good morning. Second we did not fuck, I went to bed alone. And last, this is my bunk. Yours is across from mine” Rook laughed at her expense. She felt like such an idiot for fucking up that badly. She made a mental note that she would never party with the boys again.

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Hell to the No-- Ben Hardy x Reader (ft. Joe Mazzello.. like, a lot)

Prompt; none this time!

Warnings; slight language, specified fem! reader

Word Count; 2k

Notes; I wrote this instead of writing the essays that are due tomorrow, so I hope y’all enjoy lol ALSO IF YA WANNA BE ON THE TAG LIST FOR FICS LEMME KNOW!! 

Growing up with Joe Mazzello was... interesting, to say the least. He was the typical older brother. The two of you would constantly bicker over the simplest things, and then you two would be up to mischief together before the day was over. There was incessant teasing between the two of you. Joe was the constant ball of energy around your home, and you always struggled to keep up with him. And yes, he was constantly screaming.

When you were young, you thought he was the coolest person-- albeit you would never admit that. He achieved the childhood dream of being famous. You were always his biggest fan. If he needed help preparing for an audition, you’d give him your full attention. You always had his back, and you knew that he always had yours. 

In a way, you made your own name for yourself. You were a photographer, a quite good one at that. You were hired by many companies for high-end photo shoots. As you started to rise through the rankings, Joe helped you out a little. He would try to convince the management to hire you for whatever film or show he was working on’s promotional photographs. Sometimes it would work, and you were always grateful for his support. 

“Joey, please, you don’t have to keep doing this.” He had somehow managed to get you hired on the set of The Pacific. Joe just scoffed at your remark, looping an arm around your shoulders. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

After that, it became pretty common for you two to work together. If you hired one Mazzello, then you might as well hire the other because you’d never hear the end of it if you didn’t. Luckily for you, the same applied to Bohemian Rhapsody. You were beyond ecstatic when you got the news. The first thing you did was call Joe, practically screaming in his ear.

You were on set, discussing some photo arrangements when you heard a familiar voice call out, “Aw, there’s my little mozzarella stick!” 

“Shut it, Francis,” you quipped before apologizing to the person you were originally talking to. You spun on your heel and immediately burst out laughing. It wasn’t the first time you had seen Joe’s curly wig, but it seemed to get bigger every time you caught a glimpse of him. He was walking with three other men. You had already met Rami, as he had been friends with Joe for quite some time. The other two were unknown to you. Sure, you could remember their names, but you had yet to formally introduce yourself to them.

“Francis?” The Brian May clone looked at you curiously. Your grin widened.

“Joey’s middle name. Isn’t it adorable?” you cooed.

“Oh, mate, that’s fantastic.” The blonde clapped Joe’s shoulder before sticking out his hand in your direction. “I’m Ben.” 

“Nice to meet you, Ben. I’m (Y/N).” Realization flooded his features. He flashed you a bright smile.

“It’s about bloody time we’ve met. Joe’s talked about you nonstop!” You raised a brow at Joe, playfully jabbing his side.

“Has he? All good things, I hope.”

“Of course,” Joe scoffed.

“Perfect, now I can tell you all his embarrassing secrets” Joe gave a dramatic gasp before moving to stand toe to toe with you. You narrowed your eyes at him, and he returned the gesture. 

“You make me vomit,” he growled.

“And you’re the scum between my toes,” you said between gritted teeth. The Little Rascals was a movie that the two of you shared a love for. You were constantly quoting it. 

After a few more moments of an intense staring contest, Rami finally stepped in between the two of you, knowing full well that the two of you would’ve gone on for forever. “They said something about doing a quick photo shoot?” Your attention snapped Rami.

“Oh, yeah! Ready to get your model on, Ahkmenrah?”

“Of course, darling! I was born ready.��� You laughed at his Freddie impression before rounding the boys up, giving them directions on where to stand.

You were sitting off to the side, watching them film, when you felt someone tap your shoulder. You glanced up to see Ben. “Mind if I join you?” You shook your head, scooting over so he would have plenty of room on the small bench. The two of you watched one of the directors animatedly talk to Rami. “Hey, could I take a look at some of the pictures you took?” 

“Yeah, sure!” You picked up your work bag, which held so much stuff that it would put Mary Poppins to shame. You shuffled through your belongings before finally pulling out your laptop. You had already transferred over some of the pictures, and they just needed to be edited before they would be released. “They’re not quite done yet. I’ve still got to do some touch-ups on a couple of them.” You handed the laptop to Ben and watched his expressions as he scrolled through the pictures. 

“Holy shit. You’re really good, you know that?” You snorted, rubbing your face in an attempt to hide the blush you were sure was already spreading.

“Thanks, it took a lot of practice.” Ben handed back your laptop when someone called his name, motioning him over. A small grin graced your lips when you realized there was something new on your screen. When you looked away, Ben had opened up a blank document and typed down his number. Chewing on your lip, you made a mental note to shoot him a text some time. 

It took you a little while to finally build up the confidence to text Ben. The two of you continued to talk even after your work with Bohemian Rhapsody finished. You knew that you were rapidly developing a crush on him. Not only was he good looking and an amazing actor, but he was also the sweetest person. Ben made you smile every time the two of you talked. And, God, that accent just made your knees go weak. 

You groaned when your phone started ringing. It was just barely after seven in the morning, on a Saturday no less. You reached across the nightstand to pull your phone from the charger. You sat up and narrowed your eyes at the blinding screen. Ben was calling. “Hello?” Your voice sounded more groggy than you would’ve liked.

“Sorry, love, did I wake you?” He gave a nervous laugh. “Sometimes I forget about the time differences.” You smiled, peeling yourself away from the bed.

“No, no, it’s fine. I probably needed to get up soon anyway,” you hummed. You were about to fix yourself a cup of coffee when you heard Ben mumble something then clear his throat. “You okay?”

“I’m fine!” he assured. “I was just wondering... the Oscars are coming up, and I thought I’d ask if you wanted to be my plus one?” You froze before slowly setting down your mug. 

“Like, as a date or...” you trailed off, chewing your lip nervously.

“That’s what I had in mind, yeah.” A wide smile spread across your face. 

“I’d love to.” You felt like a lovesick yearling. You practically screeched with excitement when you ended the phone call. 

A couple of days had passed when Joe called-- in the middle of the night. You weren’t too surprised to see his name displayed across your phone. He was always calling at odd hours. “Joseph Francis Mazzello the third, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” 

“I’ve got an offer you simply cannot refuse! You. Me. The Oscars. Boom! You’re my plus one.” You laughed.

“Sorry, Joey. I’ve got prior commitments.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’ll be working! It’ll be way more fun hanging out with me than taking candids of countless celebrities.”

“No, I’m not working. I’ve actually got a date.”

“What’s his name, address, and social security number?”

“Joe. You know better than this. I’m not giving you any information because you’ll just scare him away. Remember Andi Gilmore, who you scared so bad that his parents started homeschooling him?”

“Hey! That wasn’t my fault,” Joe grumbled.

“Whatever you say, bro, but if memory serves correctly, you went all Pat Murray on him.”

“Your memory clearly does not serve correctly.”

You spent the next couple of weeks in a mad dash, trying to find the perfect dress to wear. It needed to be something good because there would be no shortage of pictures and videos by the end of the night. Thankfully, you were able to find one that was just right for the occasion.

Ben stood on your doorstep, nervously shifting his weight. He had been smitten since he first introduced himself to you. He hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind since you left the Bohemian Rhapsody set. Sure, the two of you talked nearly every day, but it wasn’t the same as having you beside him. When you opened the door, it felt like all the air had been pulled from his lungs. A loving smile spread across his face. “Wow. You’re beautiful.” Your cheeks pinkened.

“Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.” He took your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Your face turned to a darker shade of red.

“Must be the luckiest man in the world if I got you to agree to go on a date with me. Shall we?” He motioned towards the car that was parked on the curb. 

Joe kept his eyes peeled for his friends. He had found Gwilym already, but he had yet to find Ben. He was watching every car to see if the blond beauty would step out. Joe’s brows furrowed when he saw you getting out of a car. He could’ve sworn you told him you were going on a date, and he was even more confused when Ben got out of the same car. Realization hit him like a pile of bricks when Joe saw Ben put an arm around your waist. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me! Him? Seriously? I thought you had higher standards, (Y/N),” Joe shouted. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Calm down, Francis. We’re going on a date, not to a drive-thru wedding in Vegas.”

You were finally able to cross ‘attending The Oscars’ off your bucket list. It was an amazing experience, and you were so proud of everyone who worked on Bohemian Rhapsody. The movie racked up the most awards of the night, a grand total of four Oscars. You couldn’t tell who cheered louder for Rami-- you, Joe, or Lucy. When all the festivities ended and everyone started to leave, you turned to Joe and Ben. “You know what I really want right now? A jumbo-sized slushie from 7/11.” Joe’s eyes widened as he loudly exclaimed his agreement. 

The three of you went to the closest 7/11. Joe wandered around the small store while you and Ben went straight to the slushie machine. You danced in place, pouring as much of the different colored liquids you could into the large cup. “How do you think that’s going to taste once they all mix together?” Ben questioned with a raised eyebrow. You shrugged, and he stuck a finger in your cup. He scooped up a glob and ate it, humming. “Not too bad.”

“Rude!” you gasped. “Shouldn’t you know better than to stick your fingers in other people’s food? I thought you were supposed to be a British Gentleman.” You wagged a finger at him, walking towards the check out counter. You felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

“I’m not always a perfect gentleman,” Ben flirted. You opened your mouth to reply but was interrupted by Joe’s fake, exaggerated gagging.

“Oh, hell no. You two are so disgusting. I’ve been third-wheeling all night.” You cast him a glance, only to see that he was recording a video. 

“Aw, don’t worry, Joey! You’ve still got Cardy B!” you cooed, a smirk crossing your lips. Ben snorted, and Joe replied with a smartass comment, but that got cropped out of the video.

Tag list;

@mothermercuryy

[siribear]

old man stockton’s moniker fits more than skinny malone’s did, as she finds the old man sitting behind a counter scattered with paperwork. other caravaners have filed into the area, stocking their own counters with wares in contrast. deacon stands back again, blending in with the other caravan guards as she approaches their contact.

stockton nods his head. ‘tell me, friend, do you have a geiger counter?’

whisper shrugs. ‘mine is in the shop.’

he squints, looks her over. ‘you’re with our mutual friends, yes?’ he speaks slowly, low and careful. ‘then you know that i have a... package that’s been in my possession too long.’

they talk shop, their conversation entirely covert. she does get their pick up location out of him eventually: a church last seen occupied by raiders. returning to deacon, she relays the location. and that they’ll have to wait until nightfall to make their delivery.

‘we can do each other’s hair while we wait,’ he says as she leads the way. he gives her ponytail a playful tug, like they’re children back in kindergarten. at her look, ‘it suits you. you look more like a spy, now.’

she shakes her head, lets her hair smack his arm. ‘glad you approve.’

the outskirts of the city are quiet as they make their way to the church. the sun rises high over head, but a cool wind chills the air. it should be colder this time of year, she thinks. much colder. as it is, beginning of november, she can barely see her breath.

they take cover in a building next to the church. voices drift through the quiet, too low to be made out but just loud enough to be heard. two - three voices. deacon pulls out his rifle and counts the figures in the church. ‘i see five. maybe six. hard to see from this angle.’

‘the roof?’ she suggests, pointing up to a hole to the second floor.

‘because of course the stairs are broken,’ he sighs. he kneels so she can step into his cupped hands then lifts, heaving her toward the edge of the hole. ‘thank goodness you’re not that heavy. i don’t know if these old bones could handle it.’

whisper hauls herself up with some effort. when deacon jumps, she grabs a fistful of jacket and yanks - ‘those old bones are heavy,’ she says with exaggerated panting.

deacon pouts. ‘all muscle,’ he says, defensively.

to get to the roof, or the half of the roof that’s still standing, they climb out the upstairs window, deacon first. at the top, deacon pulls out his rifle again, counting the raiders through the blown open roof of the church. ‘only five. we could pick them off from here.’

further up the street, something catches her eye. ‘just past the church. look.’

he does. ‘pack of ferals. gr-eat. the sound will draw them over.’ whisper hums, then makes to drop back to the second floor. ‘where are you going?’

‘i have a dumb idea. cover me?’

sunlight glints off his sunglasses as he grins back at her. ‘of course.’

back on the ground floor, she quickly makes her way up the street, avoiding the church’s line of sight. she only looks back once to see deacon down on one knee, following her through his scope. it’s... comforting. in a way she’s never needed to be comforted, on the other end of a scope.

how her life has changed.

the pack of ferals hasn’t moved since she spotted them. they’re gathered around the hollowed out shell of a car, climbing over and under, looking for food. one silenced shot from deliverer takes off the arm of one and draws their attention.

two of them take off after her first. the others have to drag themselves out of the car first before they sprint toward her. and they’re faster than she thought. shit. she turns and runs back down the road. on the roof, she notices deacon raise his rifle to fire, but she waves him off.

‘what the fuck - ?’ is all she hears from the first raider before she all but barrels into him.

‘help, please,’ whisper gasps, out of breath. ‘they’re coming - they killed everyone - ’ before the raider can grab her, she pulls away. ‘oh god, they’re here,’ she yells and sprints back toward the house.

‘she brought fucking ferals!’ she hears another raider yell behind her, and ducks away when one of them takes a shot at her. the bullet skims her arm, cutting through the thin fabric of her flannel shirt. it stings, but it’s not enough to stop her from jumping through the open window of the house.

the raiders scream. gunshots are fired. the ferals howl in pain and fury. eventually, the noise dies down, and all she hears after are the muted shots from deacon up above, cleaning up whatever’s left. he joins her on the bottom floor with a low whistle.

‘two birds, one stone. and i didn’t even have to break a sweat. nice job.’

‘who won?’ she asks with an effected lightness.

‘ferals. and they left quite a mess.’

they did. the front of the church is painted with blood, and whisper tries not to think about the symbolism behind it. ‘that’s that. and now we wait?’

deacon looks to the front window of the church and the small, unlit lantern sitting on the ledge. ‘and now we wait.’

-

sitting still. she is not good at sitting still.

‘we could clear the way?’ she asks. 

deacon shakes his head, leans back against the pew they’ve come to share - the only one not broken in half or covered in blood. ‘i have an idea of where we’re taking this one, but we can’t risk being seen.’

the sun creeps across the sky. an affront to her, personally. she gets up to wander the church. deacon watches, still sprawled out on the pew. behind the pulpit at the head of the church is a burned book whose pages crumble to ash when she attempts to pick it up. toward the back, she climbs the winding staircase to a second floor, finding a small loft with sleeping bags laid out in a row. whisper pockets the handful of stimpaks and ammo she finds in a bag lying near one of the sleeping bags.

another door leads to the balcony overlooking the ground floor of the church, so she follows the staircase up to the steeple. at the very top, she only finds a single chair surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol and the bell missing its clapper.

‘find anything good?’ deacon asks when she finally heads back down.

‘ammo and stimpaks,’ she says, and divides them between the two of them. a glimmer of silver on the floor catches her eye. she tears off the ruined part of her sleeve and uses the fabric to pick up the silver bracelet lying half in a pool of feral blood.

it’s oddly, impossibly familiar. she rubs the blood off the other half of the bracelet, to reveal a name. rosa. like the name printed on the mailbox across from her house -

she drops it. coincidence, she tells herself. even if the ghoul is wearing the same pink dress from two hundred years ago.

defeated, she sits back down next to deacon. ‘weren’t we going to do each other’s hair?’

he chuckles. ‘only if you want me to shave your hair off.’

‘hm.’ she pokes his wig. ‘i don’t know if i’d look as good.’

‘i think this face pulls it off better than my others,’ he says, rubbing his chin.

‘your... others?’

‘i go under the knife every couple months. give myself a new face. extra security, you know?’

she squints. ‘extra security? you already have code names, secret codes, railsigns - what more security do you need?’

he’s silent for a moment, before he sighs. ‘you don’t have any family here.’ whisper stiffens. he continues. ‘you’re lucky. everyone else in the railroad - they’ve got to be extra careful. if the institute finds out who they are, they put their families at risk, not just themselves.’

lucky. she frowns. ‘i’ve never thought of it that way,’ she says, dully. after a moment, ‘you said ‘they.’ what about you?’

‘that,’ his near-trademark grin slides back onto his face with a snap, ‘is a story for another day.’

‘no trading of tragic backstories just yet then?’ she fakes a pout. ‘okay.’

the smile he gives her looks almost genuine.

-

it’s hours until their contact arrives and night falls. hours they spend playing a game on her pipboy that she found in her boredom. a small vault boy avatar bounces over mini-nukes traveling horizontally across the screen, all while travelling to the top of the screen to rescue vault girl from the titular red menace. whisper has to cross over to deacon’s left when it’s his turn to play. if she bobs her arm at an opportune moment (’what? my arm got tired.’), then it’s purely coincidence that he falls just short of her high score.

besides, it’s fair play for when he poked her in the side and distracted her when she was about to beat his.

‘well, i see you two agents are hard at work,’ stockton says, stepping over feral and raider corpses to enter the church.

‘we could have sung show tunes, but that might have drawn more attention,’ says deacon, drawing a quiet laugh out of a young man standing behind stockton, until now unnoticed.

deacon nudges her in the side, so she stands and walks up to the man. short cropped, messy hair hides under a news cap, and he shrinks into his too-big patchwork jacket. ‘this, agents, is h2-22. say hello, h2.’ stockton sounds as if he’s talking to a child.

‘h-hello,’ h2 mumbles, barely audible.

whisper smiles. ‘nice to meet you.’ a small smile breaks across his face, which he smothers soon after, looking to stockton.

‘they’ll take care of you from now on. i’m going to light the signal.’ the small flickering light of the lantern on the windowsill barely casts any shadows. stockton spares them a moment’s glance before he leaves. ‘take care.’

h2 waves, but it goes unseen to stockton’s retreating form.

‘so, now how long do we wait?’ whisper asks.

deacon speaks up behind her. ‘not long. he’s coming down the road now, actually.’

just over h2′s shoulder she watches someone jog their way, and soon another man stands in the entrance of the church in an outfit mirroring deacon’s. ‘deacon,’ he calls, breathless, ‘good to see you. still with the same face? it’s been months, man.’

deacon sidles up next to her. ‘hey, high rise. things have been crazy, you know, not enough time to go back to the surgery center.’

whisper looks between the two. ‘you were serious about the face changing?’

‘should have seen him back when he was a woman.’

she laughs. ‘wh-what? i missed that? deacon - ’

‘he-y. maybe beatrice will come back some day.’

whisper shakes her head. ‘anyway.’ she turns her attention back to high rise. ‘do you have a geiger counter?’

high rise smiles and nods. ‘there we are. mine is in the shop.’ he and deacon share a look. ‘so, you’re whisper, then? walked the freedom trail and everything?’

‘how fast does news travel in the commonwealth?’ she sighs. ‘but, yeah, that’s me.’

‘we’re all a bunch of gossips,’ deacon pipes up at her side.

‘something like that. stick with deacon. he’ll take care of you.’ before whisper can respond, high rise turns to the quiet young man standing just outside the group of agents. ‘speaking of taking care - how are you, friend? doing all right?’

h2 clears his throat softly. ‘y-yeah. the man who brought me here... said i shouldn’t talk too much.’

high rise’s smile is sad. ‘good advice.’ he returns his attention to the other agents. ‘we’re bringing him back to my safehouse, ticonderoga. only thing is: there’s a group of raiders between us and there. not to mention some super mutants have set up in the neighborhood.’

‘not a problem,’ whisper tells him.

‘you should have seen her earlier.’ deacon gestures to the cooling bodies on the ground. ‘all her.’

high rise finally seems to notice the bodies around them. ‘all right then. stay between us, okay?’ he says to h2. and to her and deacon, ‘let’s do this.’

[shesadramaqueen]

My Curly Haired; Roger Taylor x N!Reader

Requested by: anonymous

Your bio reminded me of a thought I had, being whenever we think of curly hair, Brian comes to mind,so I wanted to know if you could do something where the reader, who also has curly hair, asks Brian his hair routine and they start talking about hair all the time and even end bonding because of it. The rest of the band obviously gets annoyed and roger, who’s the reader with, jealous over the sudden approximation between them. Ik this might sound silly, but it’s just something fun I thought of

Summary: Roger knew you would get along with his bandmates perfectly fine when he brought you in to meet each other. Perhaps, you got along a bit more than fine with a specific curly haired boy. A bit too much for his liking.

Context: based in the early/mid-70’s.

Word Count: 4.9 K

Warnings: bit of angst, alcohol, swearing, a bit of sexual tension if you squint, the L bomb

A/N: I did this a bit more Roger centred than you requested for plot purposes, hope that is alright! I also used neutral pronouns as gender wasn’t specified! I actually used parts of my hair routine for this lmfao so here you go. And yes I used a gif of Ben!Roger and Gwilym!Brian but it reflected the angst I was looking for

Permanent taglist: @turkey-bacon-for-queen, @haikyuumanga

You didn’t really expect all of that to happen when Roger brought you in to meet his band.

You and Roger had been dating for a while now but had never met his mates until one night, when he dragged you to one of their gigs. Maybe not drag, but certainly you felt a bit out of place as that wasn’t your usual scenario.

And that’s how ended up standing in the front row, almost blind in alcohol and screaming senseless lyrics that definitely weren’t the ones from the songs. Still, you were having the time of your life and never wanted it to end.

Roger was looking like a five course meal behind the drum set, of course. The sweat suited him. Yet you couldn’t help your eyes drifting to the guitarist from time to time.

It wasn’t him as a whole what kept your eyes glued to him (he was cute but, having Roger Taylor as your boyfriend, what else could you ask for?), but his perfect curls that fell on his shoulders. You were so jealous that your hair didn’t look like that. 

When he appeared on stage you gasped so hard you saw one of the body guards glance at you curiously, despite him being next to an amp.

What kind of sorcery was that? Never in your life had you seen such perfect hair. It was just breathtaking. At one point you really did wonder: ‘Is this guy real or did someone put LSD in my drink?’.

When the concert eventually came to an end, you were both sad and excited. You didn’t want it to end, as you were having the time of your life, but you also knew that then you’d head backstage and properly meet Roger’s friends. Which meant showering the curly haired boy with questions about his gorgeous mane, as the alcohol didn’t let you feel the shame you generally felt on your every day life.

It wasn’t until you started walking that you noticed how intoxicated you were, and your attempts to look more sober were in vain, so when you reached the door that connected to where the band was, the bodyguards stopped you from going through.

“This is backstage, miss. Staff only” one of them seriously said, while also trying to be comprehensive with your situation.

“But my boyfriend is there!” you managed to slurr out. The two guards looked at each other, amused. “I’m serious! Go ask him, the drummer! Roger Taylor, that is.” You really had to bang your brain for a second to get his name out, and if you were able to in that moment, you’d feel so embarrased for it.

One of them shrugged and went in search for the blond one, knowing you wouldn’t leave.

Some mintutes later, your lover’s head perked up from the door with furrowed brows and you squealed.

“Roger!!” You blurted out with a big grin and he went to hug you. “You guys were amazing up there! You were all like boom and I was all like woooow, you know?”

When he pulled back, he had a smirk painted on his face. “Are you drunk, Y/N?”

“I’m not” you snorted, and booped his nose before continuing. “Haven’t touched a single drop of alcohol in all night.” You smiled innocently and he laughed.

“Not true! You can barely keep your eyes open!” And that was a fact. You could feel the heaviness in not only your eyelids but also your whole body.

“’t’s alright! Now let’s go backstage, I want to meet-” you tried to walk towards the door, but stumbled with your own feet. You were glad Roger was there to catch you, because you would have fallen otherwise.

“The only place you’re going, lovepie,” he said while helping you get on your feet “is home.”

You pouted. “But I want to meet them! I have lots of questions.” You crossed your arms, ready to throw a tantarum.

“You can meet them another day, sweetheart” he said and held your cheek. “But you probably would end up puking all over them right now.”

You threw your head back and groaned. “Fine!” at which he smiled and kissed your cheek.

“Let’s go then” he said and wrapped an arm around your waist to help you stabilize while walking.

“Wait, aren’t you staying?” the confused puppy look you wore made the man beside you laugh lightly.

“And let you go home alone? Not a chance”.

“But this place is so cool!” you exclaimed. “Would you really miss a party for me?” tears started welling up in your eyes.

“You know I’d do anything for you, asshat.” That’s what it took for you to start to messily cry with loud sobs, much to his amusement. “Alright let’s get you home”.

You got outside and the cold air that hit your face made you sober up just enough to calm your weepings down. 

You both waited by the road, Roger trying to get a cab’s attention while you clinged onto him, snuffling your nose and wiping the tears off your face.

When one finally pulled over, you were already half asleep, so you clumsily got inside the car, gave the adress of your apartment and then snuzzled up next to Rog, your eyelids falling shut. 

“Who was the guy with the guitar?” you asked after some minutes of silence, barely conscious.

“That’s Brian, why?” he answered softly. You shrugged.

“Do you think he’s wearing a wig?” Roger scoffed, thinking you were joking. Only after not seeing you laugh he noticed you were dead serious, and he scrunched his face.

“Do I thin- what?” you could feel the confusion in his voice and you furrowed your eyebrows, but didn’t bother to open your eyes to look at him.

“Do you think Brian wears a wig? Or maybe it’s a perm.” Roger couldn’t believe the nonsense you were mumbling.

“Y/N, babe, that’s his real hair” you suddenly sat up straight, startling Roger, and looked at him with excitedness.

“It is? So if I tug his hair, it will hurt him?” you could see a big ‘what the actual fuck’ written on Roger’s face, but didn’t understand why he was so confused.

“…It’s attached to his scalp?”

“Huh. Too bad it’s not a wig” you said leaning back on him again and closing your eyes.

“Why?” he asked, and hesitantely wrapped an arm around you, scared you would shot up again.

“Well because then I could put it on. Obviously” you mumbled as if it was the most evident thing in the world.

That was the last thing you remembered from the night.

A killer headache is what woke you up the morning after.

“Shit” you groaned with your eyes still closed, massaging the bridge of your nose to try and alleviate the pressure that hugged your head tightly. You rolled in the bed and thanked the heavens when you saw a painkiller and a glass of water in the nightstand.

After taking it, you got up with difficulties and headed to kitchen, from where you could smell fresh coffee. Standing there was Roger giving you a great view, as he was only in boxers, eating a toast with some marmalade on it. You wrapped your arms around him from behind.

“Good morning, sleepbug” he said softly and you could feel your headache ease with the mere sound of his voice.

“Good morning” you mumbled and kissed his shoulderblade before pulling away and serving yourself a cup of coffee.

You leaned against the counter and stared off into the distance, frowning and trying to remember what happened the night before. “Rog, could you give me a slight sum up of what happened yesterday?”

It’s not that you didn’t remember it; you did know what happened, or at least the outline of it, but you wanted to make sure nothing escaped your memory.

“Alright so, long story short, you went to our gig, got dead drunk and started crying when I said I’d accompany you home because you were too shit faced to meet the boys, asked weird stuff in the car and then passed out. I had to carry you all the way up here and let me tell you, my arms were tired from drumming.” He raised an eyebrow at you and you bit your lip, trying your best not to laugh.

“Sorry about that.” You smiled apologetically but it faded away when you went over his words in your mind. “Wait, asked weird stuff?”

Your night was all pretty clear until the cab part. You knew you talked, but in that moment your mind lingered between the unconsciousness of sleep and the drunk consciousness, so you couldn’t make out the exact conversation that happened.

“Yeah. You asked if Brian’s hair was his real hair? For some reason, you firmly believed it was a perm or even a bloody wig” he mocked you jokingly but you swallowed hard. For a moment, you actually believed the guitarist had been product of your imagination.

“You are not telling him that” you said wearily.

“Oh, you bet I am, love. It’s the first thing I’m going to tell him when I see him” he had a shit eating smirk on his face that you wanted to rip off with all your heart.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He stuck his tongue out at you. “I swear, Taylor”.

He giggled and held you by the waist. “Why do you care so much? You were drunk, it’s not relevant”.

“That’s literally the most embarrassing thing I’ve said in my entire life” you smiled pressing your lips together. “Please keep that pretty mouth of yours shut” you murmured and kissed the base of his jaw, one of his weak spots, and he shivered.

“Alright”.

“Good boy.” You winked at him before pulling away. You drank the rest of your coffee and stretched your back, putting your arms up. “I’m going to shower, I feel disgusting. You coming?”

“Would love to, but can’t. Gotta go to the studio today. In fact,” he glanced at the kitchen clock “I should start getting ready and get going if I don’t want to arrive later than Freddie”.

You both headed into your bedroom: you to get rid of your clothes and get a towel and him to put some on.

When he was done, he kissed your cheek. “Want to grab lunch later? We could go to that pub near the studio”.

“Sure! Be there at… 12:30?”

“Perfect. See you later, love” he said before pecking your lips.

“Later, baby” he gave your ass a smack before heading out with a final wink.

When you heard the main door close behind him, you sighed and headed into the bathroom.

You turned on the shower to let the water heat up and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your hair, as always, was absolute chaos, and you frowned in frustration.

Because you were the only one in your family with curly hair, no one had taught you how to take care of it, and you didn’t know how. It drove you crazy: if you didn’t brush it, the curls and knots would cramp over each other. If you did, it became a frizzy mess. And even if you didn’t brush it, it was frizzy.

That was the natural state of your hair and despite seeing people with perfect curls, you had learned to deal with it. That was until you saw his hair, now you felt ashamed of the thing on top of your head.

This was a good thing, you tried to convince yourself. You would be able to ask him about his secrets to keep it so beautiful, as he was someone you’d come to know eventually, but you were too ashamed and you knew you’d feel intimidated around him.

“Whatever. I guess I’ll have to drink again to be able to ask him and get great hair” you sighed before grabbing the brush and detangling your hair, shedding a couple tears in the process, so it could be easily manageable to wash in the shower.

“Fucking hell” you sneered when you got out of the taxi due to the temperature change. “I wish I would have dried my hair” you scolded yourself before rushing towards the cozy pub that you and Roger frequented to.

You peaked inside when you reached the glass door. On one of the tables near the entrance, you could see Roger talking and next to him… a mass of perfect curls.

“Shit” you whispered as you retreated quickly and hid yourself behind one of the walls that were next to the door. You felt like your heart could jump out of your chest. “My hair is a fucking mess” you screamed-whispered and bit your lip in nervousness.

You couldn’t make a fool of yourself in front of him, you had to play it cool. And so you covered yourself with the hood of Roger’s sweater, took a few breaths and headed inside.

As soon as your boyfriend saw you, he grinned brightly and raised his arm so you could spot him, despite being one of the few people inside the local.

“Hi!” you said when you reached them. You gave the blond one a peck on the lips before smiling at the man next to him. “Brian, right? I’m Y/N, nice to meet you. I didn’t know you would be joining us today” you said and flinched a little.

‘Did that sound uninviting?’

“Oh, I won’t. I came because Roger kept insisting how good the beers are here and I didn’t believe him.” He raised his almost empty mug at you before looking at his friend. “I guess I was wrong” he chuckled before drinking again, and you laughed nervously.

Roger frowned and gave you a quizzical look before signalling you to sit down. Not until then you had realized you were awkwardly standing there, so you rushed to sit down while you felt a faint blush creeping up your face. 

There was silence for a moment until Brian set his glass down and got up. “Well, I guess I’ll get going. You’re paying.” Roger switched his curious gaze on you to him with an offended expression.

“No I’m not! You pay your shit!” he said dramatically and you snorted.

“Nope” he emphasised the p, making the boy in front of you groan. He wrapped his colourful scarf around his neck before turning at you with a kind smile. “Bye, Y/N” he then turned to Roger. “Finish that damn song already, drummer” at which Roger flipped him off as a goodbye.

Brian chuckled and started walking away, your gaze not leaving him as he became smaller the furhter away he was, his hair bouncing with grace over his shoulders.

When he was out the door, you closed your eyes and sighed before looking at Roger, who was staring at you intently. “What?” you asked.

“What was that?” he questioned back.

“What was what?” you picked up the menu and started eyeing it to avert his gaze, even if you always ordered the same thing when you came here.

You could feel Roger’s eyes on you while silence settled tensly for some seconds before he shrugged. “Nothing” he said before looking at his own menu.

That’s how you found yourself staring at Brian more than you should have. More than you’d like to. The sight of him made the self hatred towards your hair increase, but it also struck you every time.

‘Fucking ridiculous’ you thought, mouth hanging open when you saw him enter the studio in a particularly humid and rainy day without a single strand of hair out of place. ‘He doesn’t have a single bad hair day’.

The past few days you had gone in the studio with Roger, as you were on a break from university and only worked in the afternoons. You would rather spend time with the band, who you had already met, than hang around in your apartment doing nothing.

The thought of being made fun of terrified you so bad you started wearing the most unbelievable accessories and hairstyles so your hair would stay hidden, which Freddie would giggle at every time he saw you.

Roger, on the other hand, seemed a little off. A bit too weary, too tense, too cranky and you didn’t know why. Specially he was like that around Brian.

You were sitting on the sofa of the recording room next to Roger one morning, watching Brian record his part. You had to say, that was also something breathtaking. His technique and way of playing was something from another world, and you found yourself staring in awe once again.

When you turned to Roger to comment how good the new song sounded so far after Brian did a particularly good riff, you saw him roll his eyes while staring at the booth with the most annoyed expression. You furrowed your brows, confused.

You were about to ask what was wrong when the door swinged open.

“Your turn, mate” a sweaty Brian commented with a smirk. Roger glared at him for a second before huffing and getting up to go to the booth, stomping his feet on his way.

“Oookay” Brian said, not knowing what was going on with him either, before plopping down in the couch next to you.

“You were killer in there! I can’t wait to hear how the song turns out” you exclaimed excitedly. The fact that you were awkward around him didn’t stop you both from getting along perfectly fine.

“Thanks! I worked pretty hard on that one and I really like how it turned out” you smiled at him before turning your attention to the booth, where you could see Roger angrily yell at Freddie through the glass, the last one wearing a smug smile as he had mutted the sound so not a single complaint from the drummmer could be heard.

You scoffed and shook your head at your boyfriend’s attitude.

“Unbelievable, isn’t he?” You turned your head only to see Brian already staring intently at you. “What? Is there something on my face?”

He smiled and looked down. “No, sorry for staring.” He looked at you again and slightly frowned before speaking up. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you”.

You unconsciously fixed your slouched posture and bit the inside of your cheek, feeling a bit anxious. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Well, uh,” he started and looked to his side “I don’t mean to be rude but, I’ve noticed you’ve er… been staring at me?” Your eyes opened up dramatically. “At first I thought it was my imagination but I don’t think it is. Again, I’m not trying to put you on the spot but I’d really like to know why that is.” He sheepishly scratched the back of his head with a nervous smile.

You could feel your cheeks burn as you looked down and played with the trim of your hoodie. Had you really been that obvious?

“I’m sorry” you started and chuckled slightly. “I really didn’t mean to do it, sorry. I don’t want this to sound weird but, I really like your hair”.

He blinked rapidly and blushed slightly. “My hair?”

“Yeah! I’ve honestly never seen anyone with a hair like yours. I’m pretty much obsessed with it and that is why my eyes drift to it much more than I’d like to… Mainly because I have curly hair myself, kinda”.

“Well, thank you so much, really…” He softly said. “I’m flattered. And what do you mean kinda?”

“I do have curly hair but as I don’t know how to take care of it, it looks horrible and anything but curly. That’s why I always wear something on my head, so it can’t be seen. I feel intimidated around you because of that.” You said the last part so quietly you doubted he heard you.

“Well, why didn’t you talk to me?”

“I didn’t want to come off as a weirdo”.

“You literally stare at me” he pointed out jokingly.

“Fair point” you laughed and noticed that you didn’t feel embarrassed anymore. Now that you had broken the barrier between the two of you, you felt relaxed and confident enough to talk to him about this topic, something you should have done long ago. “So, will you help me?”

“'Course!” You smiled at him, thankful. “You could take your hood off, though?”

“Shit. Yeah, sure” you mumbled rushedly and bit your lip before you pulled the fabric off your head, unleashing your damaged hair that went all over the place. You silently prayed the others were too distracted so they wouldn’t notice it.

He inhaled sharply. “Oh, wow”.

“I know” you said while getting some of it out of your face. “It’s messy and damaged and horrible. I used to straighten it but it got really bad so I stopped and started wearing stuff that would cover it or different hairstyles that would ‘control’ it.” You picked a lock and started inspecting it. “I just don’t know what to do so I really could use your help.”

“First of all, don’t brush your hair when it’s dry” he said cringing a bit at the thought of it. “It’s very damaging and causes breakage. Instead detangle it in the shower when it’s literally soaked in conditioner. And talking about that don’t wash it too often… leave around 4 or 5 days in between wash day” you furrowed your brows at this.

“What do you mean? Won’t it get like, dirty and dry?” He chuckled slightly.

“That’s why you refresh your hair every day in order for your curls to always look good. I personally shake my hair up with my hands, wet it and apply some curl definer cream and some conditioner before scrunching. Then I just let the air do its job and hope for the best.” He shrugged and paused for a second before continuing. “A big lifehack is sleeping with a pineapple ponytail which basically means a loose ponytail on top of your head, but if you find it uncomfortable you could also carefully wrap your hair with a silk scarf.”

You held your hand up to make him stop talking, as the information was overflowing your head. “How come you know all of this?” You asked, feeling a bit dizzy.

“I’ve talked to a lot of people and tried a lot of stuff. It’s basically trial and error” he smiled at you sympathetically. “We’ll get your curls looking amazing, I promise”.

“Thank you so much, Brian” you kissed his cheek and just in that moment Roger came into the room and you put your hood on once again.

You saw him shoot a deadly look at the man next to you and decided to intervene.

“Hey love, how was the recording?” You asked completely oblivious to why your boyfriend seemed so annoyed.

“Fine” he growled.

You tilted your head slightly. 'Huh? What did I even do?’

Freddie sensed the tension and spoke up. “How about we take a break?” He said clasping his hands together.

You felt everything had been good since that day: your friendship with Brian was flourishing beautifully, as you both talked all day long about every topic that came to mind. Your hair also looked better than it ever had, and this boosted your confidence into another level, which had Freddie extra happy and excited.

The only thing that still seemed off was Roger, but you figured that it was because of the pressure from the album, as he sometimes got extra snappy when he felt stressed, so you decided to give him space and not overwhelm him.

At first, John and Fred were quite happy to see the guitarist and you getting along so well, but as the deadline of the album drew near, the warm feeling was replaced with an exasperating one.

One morning you were happily chatting with Brian while Freddie was scribbling down some lyrics, John was playing on his bass and Roger was sitting on his stool, twirling his drumsticks, when the bassist finally fed up.

“Look, Y/N, we get it. You and Brian have a lot in common and whatever but we’re supposed to be working so please can you leave it for later?” He snapped and stopped playing.

“I agree, darling. We’re not here to hang out” Freddie said calmly but you could sense the slight irritation in his tone.

“Sorry guys” you said and couldn’t help but giggle, so you leaned into Brian’s neck to hide it, while he also tried not to laugh at their annoyance.

You snapped out of your happy state when you heard a loud noise, which made you shot your head up.

Roger had stood up so abruptly he had knocked down his stool, and you were only able to catch a glimpse of him before he stormed out of the room. You immediately got up to go after him, feeling very worried.

Following the trail of cold air, you walked through the hallway until you saw the fire emergency door open. You approached it and peeked through the glass.

Roger was sitting on the floor, with his chin resting on his arms that were leaning on one of the railings and with his legs hanging out the platform, cigarrete in his mouth.

“Hey” you said softly. He didn’t answer, but just glanced at you for a second before returning his gaze to the passing cars below.

You sighed and sat next to him while he took a drag. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

He snorted, clearly upset. “What’s wrong? Obviously nothing. I’m fucking great, can’t you see?”

You crossed your arms, feeling slightly annoyed. “Look, if you’re pissed I’m sorry, but you have no right to snap at me like that, I’m just trying to help you.” You were about to get up when Roger put a hand over your arm to stop you from leaving.

A couple of seconds passed by until he spoke up. “I’m jealous” he mumbled and dropped his hand off you.

“What?” You asked, not sure if you heard right.

“I’m jealous, okay?” He exclaimed and looked at you in the eye.

“Jealous?” You said, not believing what you just heard. “What eve- wait is this because of Brian?” Roger looked away, ashamed. “I can’t believe this. You’re jealous of one of your best mates?”

He shrugged. “It’s fucking stupid and I hate feeling like this, but I see you both getting along so good and being with each other so much I can’t help but wonder… What if you’ve finally realised that I’m not good enough for you? What if you finally got tired of me?” His voice grew weaker with every word he said and he hid his profile with his hair to not give away the tears that welled up in his eyes.

That’s when you became aware of what was happening. He wasn’t being possessive over you or angry at you. He was insecure over himself and scared Brian might be able to steal you away, as he felt his friend was much better than he was.

“Roger, we literally talk about hair.” You held his hand and squeezed it.

“I know and it’s so stupid but… I don’t know.” He took one last drag and threw the cigarette’s butt down, watching it fall to avoid your avid gaze. You grabbed his face and made him look into your eyes.

“Roger, that won’t happen. I’m not going to leave you for Brian or for anyone. I don’t deserve better because you’re already the best thing that has happened to me.” He was moved by your words, but still they didn’t convince him completely.

“And how do you know that won’t happen?” Your heart clenched at the sight of him being so vulnerable.

“Baby, I don’t know if any of that will happen in the future, but I’m sure it won’t happen now. It won’t because I love you, Roger”.

“You what?” His eyes widened in shock. Not until a second later you realized it had been the first time you had said it and you were surprised that those words left your mouth. Still, it felt right.

“I love you and I’m not going to leave you” you repeated, smiling brightly, and you could feel Roger melt into your hands.

“I love you too, Y/N” Your heart raced at his words, feeling so happy you could combust.

You leaned in to kiss him, but a cough beside you made you jump instead.

“Can we please get back to work?” Deaky was leaning in the door frame with crossed arms and quirked brows.

“Are you joking?” Roger groaned. “We’ve literally been here for 5 minutes.” John rolled his eyes.

“I want you on the recording room in a minute” he said looking at you both carefully before walking away.

“Now, where were we?” Your boyfriend said with a dorky smile before kissing you.

His soft and warm lips on yours made butterflies fly in your stomach and you smiled against him, which made him do it as well.

You broke the kiss and he pouted. “'C'mon!” You giggled. “Let’s go back, you have to record your solo now.” His frown changed into a big smile.

“Yes, let’s go!” He excitedly exclaimed and rushed to go back to the booth, not even waiting for you.

“Darn it, I love him” you muttered to yourself while going after him. “I really do.”

[indiesoul96]

When we have sufficiently tortured each other: the ugly review

Disclaimer: I want to talk about the play, but the thoughts in my head are still pretty much an incoherent mess and they’ll probably never make sense because the experience that was watching her live was just too overwhelming for my brain to have registered something resembling a logic thought. Therefore, this will, without a doubt, be the worst review in the history of reviews! I apologize in advance but I really wanted to write this down. Also, it’s gonna be inappropriately long..

First thing first, I wanted to talk about Cate’s incredible and outstanding performance. I thought I had already seen Cate masterfully use a wide range of emotions, and I thought I couldn’t appreciate and admire her acting and the way she’s able to give life to characters, each with their own peculiar shade of personality, more than I already did, but every time I watch something new of hers I’m left positively shocked. It’s unreal how every character she’s played it’s so different and distinguishable from the others; just like snowflakes: no two are the same. And in the midst of these interpretations it’s impossible to detect traces of the real Cate or any of her other characters. Her expressions are different, the way she talks, the way she smiles they are all incredibly unique. She’s able to give depth and credibility to every single character, making it impossible to see one of them in any of her previous work. The character/s she portrays in this play are probably the most intense I’ve seen her playing. From the first moment she enters the stage, from the very first word she says in a voice that’s as gravelly as it can get, all the attention is immediately and inevitably drawn to her. All the actors have been incredible, but let me tell you that there is something about her that makes you forget she’s even acting, which is even more of a challenge considering that theatrical interpretation is inevitably dramatic and purposely over the top, yet she manages to make it look effortlessly real!

She interprets both the woman and the man, switching majestically between these two characters. She takes off her wig and wears her slacks and she becomes a man, there is no Cate Blanchett, no Pamela (her character’s name) there is not a trace of femininity in her anymore - she becomes the man, within the span of a second. Her accent changes, as well as her voice, and her every movement of her body is channeled into giving life to this violent, aggressive and dominant male character. She can outstandingly switch from being a passive and fearful woman, being dragged down and abused, to being the controlling abuser. I was utterly mesmerized seeing her flirting in a sweet innocent voice, to seducing with such confidence, to crawling across the stage, to losing her shit perfectly resembling the definition of neurotic. Her performance is the most intense thing I’ve ever seen, I don’t know how to describe what I saw, all I could say is that it feels like she’s a burning fire, a powerful tornado capable of destroying everything simply with the sound of her voice. She’s untamable.

They play, as you may already know, explores the issues of gender roles in a relationship, and what I liked about it is that the point this adaptation is trying to make is not entirely clear, you’re left wondering. It’s not there to teach you something, but to provoke a discussion. It’s open to personal and subjective interpretation, so what I got from it might be completely different from what others have understood. What I got from it is that most of the behavior we adopt is not embodied in our genders but rather in the concept of them, in the abstract idea of what a woman and a man should be like and what society expects from us, which is a great force we’re all, one way or another, subjected to, and that inevitably chases us even when we’re trying to escape from its cages. It was controversial and chaotic, and this is why I understand that a lot of people were left disappointed, because unlike most things we’re used to and we, as flawed human beings need, this play doesn’t produce any clear explanation.

Now, a quick list of the (unserious) very random things that were the cause of my early death. I apologize for the trashiness.

First thing that had my breath hitched: this part 👇🏼 happened in the beginning, and just let me tell you that this picture was taken at a very wrong angle, because what you can’t see is Cate lifting up her skirt leaving the audience with a nice, killer view of her bottom. All of that done deliberately in a teasing manner. She then took his hand and placed it on her ass...

Cate’s skin is smooth!!!!!!! I swear, even from a distance it looked like it was made of the purest silk.

HEART ATTACK ALERT 🚨 This woman literally crawled on top of the hood of a car! Imagine her walking around the vehicle, position herself behind it, jump on it with such grace and sensuality, and then crawl on top of it. I gasped so loud that the lady next to me gave me a side-eye.

She also crawled across the floor on all four.

I was utterly, irredeemably, overwhelmingly shocked to see her ass. I guess it’s mainly because Cate has always been one of those actresses who doesn’t seem very keen on exposing her body, even if it’s for a job, so I certainly wasn’t expecting THAT, but oh boy she did it... she stripped down to that bodysuit corset, and you think that the skirt she’s wearing over it is gonna stay on, but nope, the skirt comes off as well and let me just say... we had a full view. So much for not working out, woman! Ps. Refraining from giving too many details. Pps. It is not objectification, as once Sandy Bullock said, I’m appreciating!!!

In my opinion, one of the sexiest things, is when she sat the man down on a step, she unzipped her man’s slacks ⚠️BDE⚠️, dropped to her knees, and spread the man’s legs. THE POWER.

Yes, the rumors are true. She had the audacity to moan for a few minutes straight on stage. How dare she? I’ve never been more grateful in my entire life for Cate Blanchett’s willingless to take risks. I could write a whole page about those 2 minutes alone. I’m just gonna leave this with her quote: “put your hand here,” said Ms. Blanchett lifting up her skirt.

At one point the couple engaged in very “adult activities”, she was leaning against the car, back on the side door, the man on top of her, and one of her legs was oh-god-so-sensually propped up against what looked like a bookshelf to support herself, and THAT my dear friends, it’s something I’ll never be able to forget. My brain stopped functioning, so much so that I accidentally dropped my purse, which clattered loudly on the floor!!!

She’s 49 and her body is one of a 25 year old. That woman is an immortal goddess, and no one can say otherwise.

Her strap is black and, unsurprisingly, big... we thought she already had a BDE, but this is a whole other level. She wears it in the most natural way, never failing to be sensual.

I don’t think it’s humanly possible to be able to be equally sexy wearing a lacy corset and leather garter belt suspenders, AND a man’s suit, but Cate... she does, she can, she’s the one who can do both!

As Oceansgate mentioned before her voice sounded like Carol’s at some point, but at some other points it sounded exactly like Hela’s, especially when she was playing the dominant character, and I’ve never felt weaker!!!

Okay, that’s it for now, if something else comes to mind I’ll write it down. For now, enjoy this! If you’re curious about some more in depth details message me here, and I’ll be happy to be as thorough as I can be 🙈

Quick update: my mother found out what the play’s about hahaha I want to die.

[urdearestmom]

Santa’s Helper

hey yall!!! i posted this on ao3 and ff at christmas, but i haven’t been on tumblr much recently, so here you have my christmas oneshot!! hope everyone has had wonderful, restful holidays and love you all <3

El really didn’t want to be stuck here doing this job, but she really needed the money and this was all she could get on such short notice. Santa’s Workshop at Starcourt Mall had just opened for the day and while there weren’t many kids lined up yet, she knew there would be. And because it was getting closer and closer to Christmas, the mall was getting fuller and fuller of crazed shoppers. Hawkins wasn’t even a big city, but the number of people El saw every day was overwhelming.

Usually, there were a few kids who would act out and cause problems while they were waiting for their turn with Santa (who was really just a big man named Benny wearing a wig and a fake beard. He managed the burger joint in the food court, though, and he was really nice), and El’s job was to make sure things didn’t get too out of hand. So far, in her first three days on the job, kids had thrown up, had tantrums, gone potty in their pants, and started fights with other kids. She was kind of going a little insane, but once December 22nd passed, she’d be free and she’d have the money she needed to get on a plane and go visit her dad.

He lived in Florida now that he’d retired. El had gone to college in Bloomington, far removed from her upbringing in upstate New York, and she had then moved to Hawkins with a job offer after graduating. Unfortunately, the job at the newspaper wouldn’t start until January, so El had been getting by on her rent payments and other necessities by working at Benny’s Burgers. However, if she wanted a chance to visit her father for Christmas, she needed money for plane tickets, and so she’d had to get another job to help herself out.

Nothing particularly interesting had happened before the noon hour besides one little girl getting upset that she had to wait so long to talk to Santa (her mom hadn’t been able to calm her down, so El had had to resort to escorting them from the line, which the mother hadn’t been pleased about). El was minding her own business at the gate to Santa’s Workshop when she looked up and saw the most gorgeous man she’d ever come across step into line.   

He was tall and slender, a black denim jacket draped over him accentuating his shoulders. His entirely black outfit contrasted very nicely with the shock of purple hair on his head, which was what had initially drawn El’s attention. She couldn’t see him at the angles she wanted to, considering he was in line and El couldn’t exactly move around and get caught creepily staring at a customer, but from what she could see the man was not someone who would probably be called conventionally attractive. Nevertheless, El was attracted. She’d never exactly been conventional, either.

Bonus: he looked like he was around her age, maybe a little bit older.

Her fellow elf and hall neighbour (who had told her about this job), Dustin Henderson, was smirking at her from across the line.

“See something you like, El-Bell?”

El glared at him. “Shut up, Dustin.”

He snorted but didn’t say anything else, and El went back to looking at the mysterious man. He was a bit closer now, and El could see that he was accompanying a little boy who looked around four. The boy was swathed in winter clothes, a puffy coat zipped all the way up paired with a thick scarf, hat, mittens, and boots. The kid certainly wouldn’t be getting a cold anytime soon, although El worried he might have heat stroke with all those clothes on in the heated mall. She watched as the boy tugged on the man’s hand and said something, and then the man plucked the boy’s hat off. He took his own mittens off and unzipped the top of his coat, revealing his little face, which El suspected was exactly what the man had looked like when he was that small. She wondered what their relationship was. Brothers with a really wide gap? Cousins? Uncle and nephew? Possibly father and son, although that would mean this guy was either older than he looked or the kid had been born when he was very young.

El had only looked away for a moment to make sure the next kid made it to Santa’s lap without falling over, but when she turned back she found the purple haired man looking her way. He’d hefted the boy onto his hip and they were both looking at her, actually, but the man looked in a different direction as soon as he saw that she noticed. The boy, however, continued staring, and he smiled and waved when he saw El looking back at him. Her heart melted at his little grin and she waved back.

The two of them played a game of peekaboo for a few minutes as the boy and his whatever-the-man-was-to-him approached the front, and then El was taken by surprise as Dustin greeted the man. They did some weird one-handed handshake, clearly indicating that they were friends of some sort.

“Hey, man, I didn’t know you worked here,” said the purple haired man. And shit, did he ever have a nice voice. El pretended she wasn’t listening as she looked back at Santa-Benny and then towards the line of kids and parents to check for any disturbances.

“Dude, I told you,” Dustin answered. “You were probably too busy running after Jesse Owens there to remember.”

El heard the man laugh and it filled her with a swelling feeling. Why was everything about this guy so enticing?

“Isn’t that right, Matty?” Continued Dustin. “You like running?”

Matty must be the little boy because El heard a kid’s laugh. “I love running!”

She turned around and saw the last kid getting off of Santa, so she decided to butt in real quick.

“Hey, it looks like Santa’s ready for you!” She said. Matty turned away from Dustin and smiled.

“Yay!” He exclaimed, wriggling to get away from the man holding him. “Let’s go see Santa!”

Matty tugged the man away with him and El raised an eyebrow at Dustin. “Who’s that guy?”

Dustin gave her a sly smile. “Why, you interested?”

El didn’t answer, merely rolling her eyes.

“He’s single, by the way,” he added. “Name’s Mike. We’ve been friends since fourth grade.”

She hummed. “That’s nice. Back for Christmas?”

“No, he’s back permanently.”

El considered this. She wondered why she hadn’t seen him around yet. Little did she know she’d be seeing this Mike around a lot more often.

It turned out that Mike was to be the new occupant of apartment 3C, just down the hall from El and across from Dustin. Apparently, Dustin had convinced Mike to move out of his parents’ place and into the vacant apartment on their floor, which El came to know of one day when she was heading out for another shift at Santa’s Workshop followed by one at Benny’s. She was walking out of her door when a small body crashed into her legs and almost bowled her over. She looked down in shock and was surprised to find that she recognized the child. It was Matty.

“Oh, hello!” She exclaimed. “I know you!”

Matty looked up at her and gasped. “You’re the pretty elf lady!”

El smiled. Pretty. “Why thank you. And you’re Matty, right?” She was waiting almost with bated breath for that gorgeous piece of man to appear somewhere in the hallway. Why else would Matty be here?

Matty laughed. “Yes! Do you live here too?”

El’s answer was interrupted by a beautifully smooth voice. “Matty, you’re not supposed to talk to strangers.”

Matty frowned and looked in the direction of the open door to 3C, which El hadn’t even realized anyone was moving into. The beautiful Mike from last week was standing in the doorway, hair flopping messily as he leaned into the hall.

“But it’s the pretty elf lady!” Matty protested.

El watched as Mike went suspiciously pink, his face clashing with his hair.  “Sorry about him,” he said, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” El replied. “It’s fine. He’s so cute it doesn’t even matter.”

Matty grinned at her from the floor. “The pretty elf lady said I’m cute!”

Mike sighed loudly and lightly smacked his head on the doorframe. “Come inside, Matty,” he pleaded. “Aren’t you going to help me?”

Matty’s dark hair flopped around his face as he got up, much in the same way that Mike’s had moments earlier. He crossed his arms. “I want ice cream.”

“It’s cold outside, I’m not giving you ice cream.”

Matty stomped his foot petulantly. “I don’t care!”

El stifled a laugh. Matty really was adorable.

“I’m gonna mail you back to your mom, I swear,” Mike announced. “Gonna wrap you up like a present and leave you with her for Christmas.”

At this, Matty went streaking down the hall. “No!” He yelled. “I don’t wanna go back to Mommy for Christmas!”

Matty ran inside the open apartment and El heard a thump that sounded like he’d maybe run into a wall. Nobody said anything for a moment, until Matty’s voice came back out.

“I’m okay!”

El grinned and locked her door, watching Mike sigh tiredly again out of the corner of her eye. She was dropping her keys into her purse when he started making his way toward her.

“I’m Mike,” he said, holding his hand out to shake. “Nice to meet you, neighbour.”

“Dustin told me you were friends but he didn’t say you were moving in,” El answered. “Nice to meet you, though. I’m El.”

“El,” he repeated, as if testing how the name felt. El quite liked the way it sounded coming out of his mouth. “Cool name.”

“Cool hair,” she responded, immediately cringing at how awkward she was being.

Mike laughed. “Thanks. My mom never let me do anything to it growing up, so now that I’m officially out of college I thought I’d do something crazy. Usually, it looks like Matty’s.”

El imagined how Mike would look with dark hair, and she thought he would look just as beautiful. She didn’t voice that, however.

“Well,” she said, “unfortunately duty calls. Kids are waiting on the pretty elf lady at the mall.”

Mike bowed dramatically. “Be on your way, pretty elf lady.”

The next time she saw him was two days later. He’d come knocking at her door to ask if she wanted to join a small housewarming party of sorts, consisting of Dustin, himself, and Matty.

“I just thought it’d be cool if I could make another friend in the building,” he’d said, nervously scratching the back of his head, “Dustin’s the only one of the ones I grew up with that still lives here.”

El, of course, jumped at the chance to get to know him better. Hanging with Dustin was always a plus, and getting to see Matty would only be the icing on the cake. So, Friday night after work, instead of lounging around her apartment on her own like a loner, El found herself walking over to 3C.  

The door was opened by the man himself, but El could see Dustin horsing around with Matty on the carpet behind Mike. He smiled brightly as he let her in.

“You came!” He exclaimed. “Make yourself at home, I’m just whipping something up for dinner.”

She said hello to Dustin and Matty, but they were wrapped up in their game and El’s main target was Mike anyway, so she made her way to the kitchen.

“What are you cooking?” She asked. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious.

“Beef stew, I think,” he answered. “But without the potatoes? So it’s just beef and peas, but there’s rice too.”

Something about the way he said it was so cute that El couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose a little as she smiled.

“Sounds good.”

“Yeah, apparently Matty loves this, so I’m figuring out how to make it,” Mike continued, pushing up the front of his hair with one hand and stirring the beef and peas pot with the other. “His mom likes him to eat healthy, so he shouldn’t really be eating junk all that often. And we had pizza last night.”

This was the second time El had heard mention of Matty’s mom, and from the way Mike had mentioned her both times, it seemed like there was a complicated story there.

“His mom?” She questioned. She hoped it wasn’t too forward, after all this was only the second time she had officially met Mike and she didn’t want to be nosy or anything. But she was curious.

He paused, his eyebrows coming together in confusion for a second before his face cleared. “Ah, I forgot you haven’t been here long,” he started. “Everyone here knows about it, I forgot that you probably wouldn’t.”

El raised her brows expectantly, and in response, Mike pointed towards a framed picture sitting in the back corner of the counter. It was a picture of him with Matty that looked fairly recent, and the bottom of the frame read “#1 Dad”.

Oh. Matty was Mike’s son. Jesus. Her surprise must have shown on her face because Mike laughed a little awkwardly.

“Yeah, Matty was a bit of an accident,” he said. “High school girlfriend. She didn’t find out until after we broke up, and then there were a lot of issues because I was supposed to go to college but I wanted to be around because she shouldn’t have to deal with something that big on her own, you know?”

El nodded sympathetically. “I get it, don’t worry. So what happened?”

Mike shrugged. “I went to college. I got to spend time with Matty whenever I was on break, but now that I finished and I moved back here I see him more often. This year he’s spending Christmas with me and then I’m driving him back to Chicago for New Year’s.”

El leaned against the counter contemplatively as she watched Mike flip the switches off on the range. The flames under the pots disappeared. “Well, I’m glad it seems like you guys have a good relationship.”

“Yeah, she’s cool,” he said, turning to the sink to wash his hands. “We respect each other’s wishes. Wouldn’t date her again, but she’d be a good friend.”

El didn’t say anything for a moment, but Mike must have mistaken her silence for something else because he looked at her a little nervously and said, “It’s not a problem, is it? Me having a kid?”

“Why would it be a problem?” What was he implying with that? Could he tell that she liked him already even without barely knowing him?

“No reason, it’s just- girls usually get weird when they find out I have a kid,” he answered, meeting her eyes as if challenging her to have a problem with it.

“Well, Matty’s proven to be nothing short of the cutest kid ever, so far,” she replied.

Mike grinned. “Guys, it’s time for dinner!”

Moments later, Matty and Dustin charged into the kitchen and the group seated themselves. The meal was delicious and Matty didn’t make any fuss. That is, until about halfway through dinner when Mike looked up at him and Matty grinned.

“Stop doing that, we use good manners at the table,” reprimanded Mike, his eyebrows scrunching together in the middle.

Matty shovelled a spoonful of peas into his mouth, slouching against the edge of the table. Dustin looked like he was about to laugh, but he didn’t make any noise. The room was silent again, filled only by the sounds of forks scraping across plates, until a few moments later when Mike looked at Matty again.

“Matty,” he said quietly. “I asked you to stop kicking me. We’re eating.”

Matty’s whole face screwed up as if he was about to scream, and then it cleared and he grinned, showing his teeth. “I wasn’t kicking you, I was loving you with my toes!”

Dustin snorted loudly and El almost choked on her rice. Mike closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead, but she could see him struggling to keep a straight face. Matty giggled at the reactions of the adults around him, finding the whole situation hilarious.

“Just eat your food, Matty, okay?” Said Mike resignedly after a moment.

“Okay, Daddy!” Exclaimed the little boy, promptly returning to his dinner.

El looked between a sniggering Dustin and an exasperated Mike and had to bring a forkful of beef to her mouth to keep from laughing.

The rest of dinner was uneventful, but then afterwards when Matty tugged on the edge of El’s sweater to ask if she wanted to stay for the movie they were going to watch, she couldn’t say no. He was too cute. And it helped that she could see his dad starting to blush and say she didn’t have to if she didn’t want to.

“Nonsense and poppycock!” She decreed. “Matty wants me to stay, don’t you?”

“Poppycock!” He screeched. “Daddy, what’s poppycock?”

Two hours later found Dustin snoring in the armchair and Matty snuggled under Mike’s arm, sandwiched between his dad and their neighbour on the couch. The two left were softly talking over Matty’s head, the end of Home Alone playing in front of them.

“So what are you doing for Christmas?” Asked Mike, shifting as Matty slid lower.

“Hopefully flying to Florida to spend it with my dad,” El answered him. “I got the elf job so I could buy plane tickets.”

Mike nodded, pressing further into the couch cushions. “That’s nice. We’re going to my parents’, hopefully my older sister makes it.”

“Where does she live?” Questioned El, curiosity piqued.

“New York, so we don’t see her too often.”

A smile broke across her face. “That’s cool! I’m from New York!”

Mike wrinkled his nose. “You’re from New York and you moved to middle-of-nowhere, Indiana?”

This sparked a laugh in El and Mike joined her. “I’m from upstate New York, not New York City. It’s pretty much boringsville up there too. Hawkins isn’t so bad though, I like it here.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

She smiled. “It’s homey. And the people are nice.”

She wasn’t sure if he got what she was implying with that, but it felt good to at least get her foot in the door with trying to make a move. Maybe after Christmas…

Waking up on the morning of Christmas Eve with her bags packed and ready to fly, El had a feeling that something was off. When she looked out the window, she knew why: it was snowing. Hard. Her flight was probably delayed or even cancelled. With a sinking heart and mounting stress, she caught her bus out of town to Indianapolis’ airport.

Luckily, she made it to the airport with only a minor delay, but the counter for the flight she was supposed to be on was suspiciously empty and the workers overly frazzled for it being so early in the morning.

“Hi, I’m checking in for the flight to Fort Lauderdale?” She said, sliding her ticket and passport across the counter. The woman behind it looked at her tiredly.

“We’re sorry ma’am, but all flights have been cancelled until the storm blows over. You can call us then and we’ll be able to offer you a seat on the next flight out,” she explained. “Merry Christmas and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

El thanked her and went to go sit in a chair in the middle of the terminal. What am I supposed to do now? She sat there with her bags by her feet for a few minutes, slightly panicking and in denial, before she accepted that there was nothing she could do.

“Guess I’ll find a payphone…” She muttered, getting up to look for one. There was one at the other end of the terminal by the security gate, and she punched in her dad’s number with shaking fingers and burning eyes.

He picked up on the third ring. “Hello?” Came his gruff voice.

“Hey, Dad,” said El sadly, pulling at her scarf.

“What’s wrong, kid?”

She sighed. Of course he would be able to tell immediately that something was wrong. “There’s a storm. My flight’s cancelled.”

Her dad blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, Ellie.”

“I’m sorry too, Dad. I really miss you.”

“Well, there’s nothing much you can do, is there?”

“Not really,” she answered. “They told me to call when the storm’s over and they’ll put me on the next flight out. But I don’t think that’ll be before tomorrow…”

“So what are you gonna do?” He asked.

“I don’t know. I have some friends, but they’re spending Christmas with their families.”

She talked to her dad for a few more minutes before her time was running out. “I gotta go, Dad, I’m sorry. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

“I love you too, kid. See you soon.” He hung up and El sagged against the payphone in defeat. She was hoping that a bus back to Hawkins was leaving soon.

Unfortunately, the bus schedule told her that the bus she’d been on had left already and that the next one wouldn’t be in for twelve hours, and it was with trepidation that she walked back into the airport, wracking her brains for what to do. She only had two friends she could call, but both of them were probably busy. She figured she’d try anyway.

She called Dustin first, but when he didn’t pick up she remembered that he had told her he’d be leaving his apartment early to help his mom prep the house for their visiting family. He was probably gone already. Feeling the desperation of not wanting to be stuck at the airport all day, El dialled Mike’s landline and prayed he would pick up.

The dial tone seemed to go on forever as she waited, but then the phone clicked as someone answered.

“Hi!”

El could almost taste salvation, but she still had to know if she could even get out of the city. “Hi, Matty. Could you put your dad on the phone, please? It’s El.”

“Daddy!” Screamed Matty. “It’s for you!”

Mike’s voice sounded tinny and far away as he responded. “I told you not to the answer the phone, only I do that, okay?”

“But it’s not bad people.”

“For the love of God… hello?”

“Hi, Mike, it’s El. Hope I’m not interrupting anything important?”

“Hey!” He didn’t sound particularly stressed about anything… “No, we’re not leaving till later. What’s up? I thought you were supposed to be at the airport.”

El sighed into the phone. “I am, but my flight got cancelled because of the snow and the bus back home isn’t coming for twelve hours. Is there any way you could help me out? I tried Dustin but I think he’s already at his mom’s.”

“Yeah, he left, like, twenty minutes ago,” Mike answered, confirming her suspicion. “That sucks, though. I can drive down and pick you up, but I’ll be about two hours.”

“Are you sure?” El stood straight, tense with anticipation.

“Don’t worry about it!” He reassured. “My car’s good with snow, I’ll get there fine. It would suck for you to have to spend Christmas Eve stranded at the airport.”

“Okay, so I can be at post 23 in two hours…”

El could almost cry at the good heart Mike had. He was truly a blessing in her life, in many ways. As the days had progressed since the dinner she’d had at his apartment, they had hung out more, always with Matty but a lot of times without Dustin. Mike was kind and caring, if a little hardheaded and with strong opinions. But El didn’t mind; she liked a challenge in conversation. In fact, she couldn’t think of much that she didn’t like about Mike, and it only made her feel more and more attracted to him. He was probably the closest to her dream man that anyone had ever come.

In any case, she had to find some way to keep herself occupied until he managed to get to Indianapolis, so she dug out her copy of Animal Farm and started reading where she’d last left off. She was slumped over in her chair, the book nearly falling out of her grasp, when she looked at her watch and started, seeing that two hours were nearly up. She gathered her belongings and made her way outside, looking in the direction of the agreed-upon meeting spot for Mike’s little blue BMW. Luckily for her, she didn’t have to wait very long before it appeared in the falling snow, Mike throwing open his door and coming around to take her bags and stow them in the trunk.

El quickly tucked herself into the passenger seat, shivering as she shut the door and waited for the rumbling radiator to warm her up. Moments later, Mike jumped back into the driver’s seat and drove off down the terminal in the direction of the highway.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” she said. “I can’t believe you actually came.”

Mike smiled at her and reached out for her left hand. “It’s not a problem at all. Your hands are cold, though, do you want the heat up?”

“If you can,” she answered, teeth chattering.

He reached out for the knob and El noticed Matty asleep in the backseat. She giggled.

“He came for me too?”

Mike looked in the rearview mirror quickly. “Yeah, he absolutely refused to stay with my mom. Fell asleep about fifteen minutes ago, but he wouldn’t stop talking the whole way about how excited he was to see you for Christmas, even though he literally saw you yesterday,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He really likes you.”

El smiled softly at the little boy even though he couldn’t see her. “Well, I’m glad. I’m gonna miss him when he goes back to his mom.”

“Yeah…”

“How long until you have him next?”

Mike kept his eyes on the road as he calculated. “Three weeks? I think that’s what we agreed on. It’s better than the months it used to be because of college.”

El nodded, looking out her window at the rapidly building snowdrifts on the sides of the highway. “Do you ever think about what it would’ve been like if he’d never been born?”

She saw Mike’s purple locks flop a little as he flicked them out of his eyes.

“Sometimes. I don’t know if I would’ve made the same mistake if I could go back,” he replied. “It’s been hard on both of us as young parents. But,” he added, “Although I would’ve supported Isabel in whatever she wanted, I’m glad she didn’t end it. He’s an amazing kid and I love him more than anything.”

They were all silent for a moment before Mike tapped at the steering wheel randomly and asked, “What about you? You ever think about having kids?”

El nodded. “Sometimes. I want to get settled in first. Have a good, stable job, a place to live, and maybe marriage first. But that’s not necessarily an absolute.”

He hummed in response. “Sounds reasonable.”

“Yeah,” laughed El. “I have the place and I’m going to have the job, now all I need is a boyfriend. But one of those isn’t as easy to find.”

Mike cut her a quick look. “Dustin could totally set you up, he’s good at that.”

“Oh, trust me, he’s already tried.”

“Really? With who?”

And so El launched into the stories of all her failed dates with guys Dustin had set her up with, she and Mike crying laughing by the end. Matty was still soundly asleep and tinkling Christmas music was streaming through the radio. Snow continued falling thickly outside, but it wasn’t much of a hindrance. The BMW was a beast in winter. They were probably halfway back before Mike uttered a surprised, “Oh!”

“I’m so stupid!” He exclaimed. “I just remembered this probably means you’ll be spending Christmas on your own, yeah?”

El shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know when I’ll be able to get to my dad.”

“Why don’t you come over with us? My mom loves having guests,” he suggested. “And then you can go right back to your place when I go home.”

She considered it. “If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“Absolutely!”

It turned out she had absolutely nothing to worry about. Mike’s family was more than welcoming, although she could tell his father didn’t really have much holiday spirit. Matty was excited to tell his aunts and his grandmother all about how El was an elf who worked with Santa and that she must be really nice if Santa picked her. Dinner was a delicious meal prepared by the matriarch of the household, and El could understand where Mike got his cooking skills from. His sisters, although one much younger, were both equally interesting people to talk to and interact with. El found herself a bit sad that she would likely never have reason to hang out with them again. The only issue came up when Mike, El, and Matty were getting ready to leave: they were about to be snowed in, and Mrs. Wheeler absolutely refused to let them leave under such conditions.

So, El ended up sharing a room with the older sister, Nancy. She didn’t make a fuss about having to share with a woman she’d just barely met, which El was grateful for. They’d just have to make ground digging Mike’s car out in the morning.

Coincidentally, the next morning El woke early. Nancy was still asleep, and it seemed the rest of the house was as well. But when she made her way to the bathroom she’d been shown the night before with her toiletry bag, she found Mike stumbling out his door, already dressed. He started when he saw her and she laughed at his expression.

“Merry Christmas, Mike,” she whispered.

He rubbed his eye and yawned. “Merry Christmas, El. Slept well?”

“Yup,” she answered, entering the bathroom and taking her toothbrush out of the bag she brought. “Thanks again for letting me celebrate with you.”

“You’re welcome, it was a pleasure,” he replied.

He stood by the door waiting for her to finish brushing her teeth and then her hair, and then they switched places, except El went back to the room to change into her day clothes. When she came out and went downstairs, it was only to bump into Mike in the doorway to the kitchen, and she suddenly had an urge to look up.

What she saw threw her heart into her throat. A sprig of mistletoe was attached to the beam right above Mike’s head, which meant that…

He had followed her gaze. “Oh, uh, we don’t have to do that,” he stuttered, face fire quickly spreading. “My mom just puts it up to mess with us.”

However, as El saw it, she had two options and only one of them was viable. So she followed her instincts, throwing caution to the wind and grasping Mike’s arms lightly over his sweater as she leaned up to give him the kiss that the mistletoe demanded.

Pulling apart moments later, neither opened their eyes right away, both savouring the feeling of what was surely the first of many kisses.

Finally, they opened their eyes, and upon making eye contact they both started giggling like little kids who just opened presents on Christmas morning, because that was essentially what they were.

“Merry Christmas again, Mike,” said El happily.

“The Merriest of all,” he responded.

El was definitely going places with this nut by her side.

[ruckusheaven]

A Coon In A Colorful Heaven: Chapter 5- “It’s All Pink on the Inside..”

Coon-  A black person who is ignorant to white discrimination and unknowingly suffers with self hatred.

This chapter continues to follow the eternal story of a man named Damien. When we last saw Damien he was taken to his family’s club by Angie. Once there he was greeted by his Uncle Craig who took him to see his Great Great Grandmother Lisa. Surprisingly enough she was one of the very few actually happy to see Damien. But as they began to speak, Damien started to explain his views on women and his preference; which started an argument about colorism and the struggles black women face. But before the conversation could be finished they noticed and were informed by Angie about Damien’s Soul Confliction. With little to no hesitation “GG” Grandma Lisa figured out the perfect way to educate Damien on colorism...Was by meeting his Great Great Grandfather Julian.

            -inside of Damien’s Family Club-

Damien: Great Great Grandfather Julian??

Damien: Why haven’t i heard of that name before?

Uncle Richard: Because he was never worth mentioning, hell we barely knew about him ourselves when we were alive.

Damien: Huh?

“GG” Grandma Lisa: *looks down* Listen Damien there’s a lot about this family that you never knew about. But to be honest how could you have?

“GG” Grandma Lisa: *looks back up at the crowd of people* Our Family did a terrible job at trying to keep our family history and connection together...

“GG” Grandma Lisa: So many stories... so many faces... I have been in Heaven for more than a century in your time and i still discover something new about this family almost everyday.

“GG” Grandma Lisa: *walks around the room* So much Pain and Love. Hatred and Compassion. Fear and Understanding. Destruction and Creativity. and Secrets... So many secrets

“GG” Grandma Lisa: *looks back at Damien* In due time you will see for yourself what i mean, I promise you that. But first we need to deal with your little Soul Confliction issue

*A Bright Light Crashes Down, Leaving behind Aunt Tanya and “GG” Grandfather Julian*

“GG” Grandfather Julian: WHAT UP FAMILY!!

“GG” Grandma Lisa: Speaking of which, perfect timing.

Aunt Tanya: You know... That beam is damn near instantaneous and i swear it felt like we were in there for hours. He just keeps talking.

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Girl hush, i made that ride entertaining!!

Aunt Tanya: More like annoying... 

“GG” Grandma Lisa: *Walks towards Julian with open arms and a smile* Hi Julian

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Oh my God Lisa *Hugs Lisa* *holds Lisa waist while staring into her eyes* Every time i see you it’s like it for the first time all over again

“GG” Grandma Lisa: Oh Julian..

Uncle Craig: Oh God

Aunt Tanya: You know for a couple that’s separated, y’all sure don’t act like it

“GG” Grandma Lisa: Heaven is place of forgiveness Tanya, you know that. I have no hate in my heart for this man, there’s no point in it.

Aunt Tanya: I can think of few but those would all be considered “Preferences” 

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Now Tanya i know you was slow in the head but i would think that me admitting 100 times that i was wrong would eventually stick in your brain   

“GG” Grandfather Julian:  I thought something would finally stick in you

Aunt Tanya: You son of a-

“GG” Grandma Lisa: ENOUGH!! from the both of you. Acting like damn fools for no reason

“GG” Grandma Lisa: Apologize both of you

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Now why i gotta apologize she the one that started-

“GG” Grandma Lisa: *grips Julian’s hand hard* I said apologize 

“GG” Grandfather Julian: 

“GG” Grandfather Julian: I deeply and sincerely apologize Tanya, i was way out of line

Aunt Tanya: Mhmm i’m sorry too

“GG” Grandma Lisa: Good. now you two can fight it out some other time, but right now we need to help my Grand Baby fix his Soul Confliction

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Right right, Tanya said that’s why ya needed me. So where lil man at *looks around the room*

Damien: *stands up sticking his hand out* You mean grown man Grandpa

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Well right you are *shakes Damien’s hand* good to see ya boy, good to see ya!

Damien: *smirks* Good to see you too Grandpa

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Boy did anyone every tell you, that you look just like your Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Great x53 Grandfather Musa Keita??

Damien: Ummm.. no

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Boy you gotta sit down and meet that man one day. He was doin his thang in the b.c time, boy you wouldn’t believe!

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Listen here man we come from Kings! you hear me, real Kings!

“GG” Grandma Lisa: Now Julian i’m sure Damien would love to meet and hear all about our history but we have more *cough cough* pressing issues to go over..

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Right Right my bad. So what seems to be the problem *grabs a chair and sits in front of Damien*

“GG” Grandma Lisa: Well our Grandson here seems to think that Light Skin women are better than Dark Skin women

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Ok ok....... see now i said what’s the problem, this right here just sounds like a preference

Aunt Tanya: Here we go

Uncle Richard: Is everything always a joke to you Julian?

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Boy the only joke here is you. You the only negro i know that still needs glasses in Heaven.

“GG” Grandfather Julian:  Heaven can fix and heal everything, and i mean EEEVRRRYYTHING..... but 20/70 vision. Ain’t that bouta bitch.

Uncle Craig: Should I throw him out now or after the ass kicking?

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Now don’t you touch me Craig!! *stands up*

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Last time you touched me, i had to soak in a realm made of lotion for weeks just to get your ash off of me

“GG” Grandma Lisa: Julian..  

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Now Lisa you know im just messing around with everyone. Everyone is so uptight today.

“GG” Grandma Lisa: For a very good reason

“GG” Grandfather Julian: You right, You’re absolutely right.. I apologize

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Ok lemme start this over

“GG” Grandfather Julian: *grabs Damien by the collar* Aye little nigga whats wrong with you and not liking Dark Skin Women!? Ain’t Ya Momma as black as November 23rd!!

Damien: *in shock* what the hell!

“GG” Grandma Lisa: JULIAN!!

“GG” Grandfather Julian: What?... This is what i did last time..

“GG” Grandma Lisa: Can you take it down a few notches and act like this is your Grandson and not some random thug that’s trying to fight you..

“GG” Grandfather Julian: *sigh* ok my bad, my bad

“GG” Grandfather Julian: *fixes Damien’s shirt* sorry about that man *sits back down*

Damien: *catching his breath* what the hell is wrong with this family!

“GG” Grandfather Julian: A lot more than we have the time to discussion right now. So can you please sit

Damien: *Takes a deep breath* whatever man *sits back down*

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Alright look man, that whole light skin is a preference and all that nonsense is some bull shit.

Damien: Once again how can you or anyone tell me what like is wrong, I was never attracted to dark skin tones, that’s just who i am

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Boy ain’t nobody born hating or disliking an entire color. That shit ain’t genetic, as you can see you come from some dark moutherfukas and we love ALL shades of chocolate *stretches his arms out*

The Crowd of Family: Amen to that! I know that’s Right! You ain’t neva lied!

“GG” Grandfather Julian: See

Damien: I get that’s how y’all are, but that’s not me. Why can’t y’all accept that i’m different.

Damien: Im not saying that i hate Dark Skin women or anything like that. I just choose to not be around them, they’re a mess for the most part.

The Crowd of Family: *gasp*. No this nigga didn’t...

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Now Now everyone let’s relax. Before we jump in his ass lets see where he’s coming from. Go ahead and explain yourself

Damien: Ok look, all my life i have seen nothing but ratchetness and ghetto shit from Dark Skin women.

Damien: From Tv, Movies and my encounters with them, they’re always loud, obnoxious, always ready to fight someone, always wearing weaves and wigs, always trying to live off someone else and just all around one note.

“GG” Grandfather Julian:

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Now i have heard some shit in my day, but boy i have never heard someone so passionately explain they’re ideology based around assumptions, one sided opinions and shit they saw on tv..

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Oh wait yes i have.. From racist white men and women that never had a conversation nor would even want to with a black man or woman.

Damien: Huh?

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Boy, do you know that what you just said is eerily similar to what white people have said about black folks for years?

“GG” Grandfather Julian: “ they’re always loud, obnoxious, always ready to fight someone, Violent, Always dependent on welfare, uncivilized, thugs” etc etc or as you say “one note”

Damien: Yea but that’s just white people being racist

“GG” Grandfather Julian: Negro where do you think colorism started!

“GG” Grandfather Julian: For hundreds of years your great female ancestors were raped and used as cattle, play things and servants. Then once these women had these kids that came out lighter then them, not only were they separated from their kids but they were also told to treat them as superior.

“GG” Grandfather Julian: That was one of their greatest schemes to slowly break us apart. Treating some of our own blood as superiors or servants so that those kids would eventually see Darker skin as beneath them. It was a way for white people to make them seem even more powerful just because of their skin; while also creating a form of control that made their job easier.

Damien: This all sounds like some white man conspiracy bull shit.

???: I’m afraid it’s not *walks trough the crowd and stands next to Julian*

Damien: Who are you?

???: Hello my name is Claudia one of your great cousins. I was born a slave in 1720..and i think my story could help shed some truth on what Julian is saying.

Damien: What, you’re going to tell me more stories? Listen Claudia, no disrespect but i don’t have the time for any long winded storytelling 

Claudia: Oh i won’t be telling the story, I will show you it..

Damien: What are you talkin-

*Claudia places both of her hands on Damien’s head, taking both of them to huge forest*

Damien: *in shock* what the... where the hell are we

Claudia: We’re in my Memory Realm.

Claudia: In this realm i will show you a brief glimpse of my life and the story i wish to show you 

Damien: What are you talking about?

Claudia: *sticks her hand out pointing in a direction*

Damien: *confusedly walks to where Claudia is pointing*

*After pushing his way through a huge bush, Damien looks on in shack and awe*

Damien: *takes a deep gasp* where... where are we exactly

Claudia: We’re in the 1720′s, in Alabama on the plantation i was born

Claudia: Welcome to my Life and now see my Story..

THE END OF CHAPTER 5