#got sick leave for a whole week and couldn't really do anything productive because | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bigwishes · 2 years ago

Note

Hey I am in dire need for some help!

I'm a 6'4 handsome jock, big beefy muscles, a deep baritone voice and got every guy on the team begging to suck my 8.5-incher.

I know this al sounds amazing and fuck yeah it is.. but the last few days I felt weak, not like I was sick or anything, but like my strength started leaving me. I heard a lot about your wishes where people drain their bullies or the jocks of their school. I'm an upstanding person, I have helped go up against bullying even from my teammates, I've helped my younger brother in the gym when he didn't know what he needed to do, even coach thinks I have everything he needs to become state champion this year.

So please save me from loosing all my hard worked size, I don't even know who is doing this to me.

Oh no you're losing muscle?!?!?! well we can't have that. The truth is mate I know exactly what is going on and who is doing it to you. A new student at the college gym always wanted to work out but his parent's never let him, worried it might stunt his growth. He desperately wanted to catch up and asked if I could put everyone in the gym's gains on him for the next week. Nobody noticed but you've got a keen eye and seem to notice what's going on so I tell you what I'll stop this guys wish, tell him to wish for something new and as a reward for being so perceptive I'll make you the new focus of the wish. Get you your gains back from the past few days and give you the gains of everyone who goes to the gym for the next week.

Day 1 was dope as fuck, your muscle felt pumped again, you were no longer tired after lifting and you felt incredibly solid after a workout. You were happy to be yourself again, working towards you goals. As much as you had prided yourself on hard work and being natural you were low key excited for a little magical boost, just a couple pounds of muscle from magic surely would still make you natural, after all the gains being sent your way are still gains worked for, just not gains worked for by you.

Day 2 was even better, whole fuck you were pumped all the time, you probably didn't even need to go to the gym but you wanted to, you loved the gym and didn't want to take the week off because you were getting free gains. After all it was like working double time getting swole, you were excited for the state championships in a few months and to go home and see your brother and show off your gains. The Christmas dinner keeps running in your head of him asking you how you got massive and you just saying diet and exercise. the thought of entering a bodybuilding comp crossed your mind, you were getting huge and its not like you could test positive for roids, and you'd never be tempted by them either.

Day 3 was different, you woke up at 12:01am on the dot and felt an insane pump, it wasn't slow and every lasting like how day 2 was this was fast, like a flood of blood throughout your whole body, like you were being pumped up like a balloon,

You struggled on your bed feeling more and more mass being added to your frame. The growth finally subsided and you passed out.

You struggled driving your car to the campas gym, the seat was uncomfortable and your thighs and swollen up so big you gym shorts felt like they were cutting off the circulation to your legs, maybe you should take the rest of the week off....or maybe ask for the growth to stop now....

Day 4 was a struggle, you had another growth surge in the middle of the night and it really set in just how much mass hundreds of people using the 24 hour gym daily can make. You would be fine to be like this, it'd be awesome and absolute easy win at state championships followed by sponsorships, you could drop out and be paid by supplement companies to simply pose with their products, but you couldn't get bigger than this, anymore size and you wouldn't even be able to get in your car anymore, no, you had to text the genie and ask for it to end early.

Day 5 was hell, you had a growth spurt in the middle of the gym changing room, bringing a whole new meaning to the words "Changing Room" not a single person in there noticed, like the magic was just making everyone thing you were always this big. Your coach had commented on how genetically gifted you were, apparently you had been made to do a random roid test several times and always come back clean, something you had no memory of. Going through old social media posts you saw you were much bigger in high school then you actually were, like the past was changing to accommodate for all this new found size.

Still after today you knew you didn't want anymore, even your best friend stood next to you as your posed your hulking frame in the mirror.

"bro, there is such a thing as too large, slim down for a few months or you'll be off the team for being too slow"

He was right, the new size was impacting your ability to play, one strong and fast you were now just strong, a brick wall no one could get by sure but what was the point it you couldn't chase a guy down or move your arms properly to catch the ball.

Day 6 was spent messaging the genie all day different combinations of "I wish to be smaller" or "please stop the growth now" any phrase you could think of to try to get the genie's attention to stop the growth. What your young mind thought would be cool t first turned into your biggest nightmare, you had outgrown your car and you couldn't even sell it for a new one as last time you got out of it you completely caved in the drivers side by simply shutting the door. You spent an hour walking to the gym, the only thing to clear your mind was lifting weights. During a rest your daily does of growth kicked in, your pecs and traps were swelling so close to your neck you could barely turn your head anymore.

Day 7, the final day of growth. You had become a fucking monster. Lost your place on the team from barely being able to move. You were staving all the time and spent most of your day now shovelling food down your throat as simply waling down the dorm room stairs caused you to burn a whole day's work of calories for any normal guy. You were anxiously awaiting today's growth and spent the whole day locked in your room. Everything around you was destroyed, unable to handle all the strength you had busted most things you touched and your furniture had all collapsed. Cheap college budget furniture could barely hold your weight how you were before all this but now it was just scrap wood and metal on the floor, you couldn't even bend down to pick it up. The whole day passed you buy and you saw the time 11:30pm...any moment now your final growth would happen and then you could figure out how to reverse it, or live with it. You tried to think positively, how awesome it would be to be an absolute monster, how much action you'd get. A deluded lie you told yourself, the truth was after what you did to your care you were terrified to go on a date or out for a hook up, every time you thought about it you could only think about accidently breaking the guys spine, but you'll finally get to figure all this out in just a few minutes, after tonight no more growth, just learning to live with the size. A message appear on your phone, from the genie, maybe he had finally seen your messages, maybe he'll shrink you back to how you were a few days ago, maybe you'd get punished for turning away the gift and turned into a twink....but being a twink would be better than this.

"hey bro, hope you are enjoying all the mass from the guys in the gym, today is gonna be a bit different. I explained what was going on to the original wish maker and he felt shitty and made a new wish, he wanted the nicest guy in the gym to triple in size and well I have decided you're nicest guy! you've been great carrying your team and just being a nice guy in the gym so I dunno how big you are now mate but I hope you always dreamed to be massive. If you've gotten too big from this tell me now and Ill stop the wish but after 11:59pm thats it, it goes through and nothing I can do about it"

You laughed loudly, this was your chance, to get the body from a few days ago, be a massive goliath but not be too big. Thank god. 11:45, still heaps of time. You excitedly went to message back but your phone slipped out you massive hands. Instinctively you went to catch it before it landed on the floor *CRUNCH...you opened your hand to see bits of crushed aluminium and glass slip out your fingers and on to the floor. You stopped, in shock you simply got off your bed and walked to the bathroom mirror. No one had gotten shell shock from breaking their phone before but you just stood in your bathroom, barely big enough for you to fit in and stared at yourself in the mirror. You thought you had become a monster, no, you were a freak, a massive freak of nature but in just a few more minutes, then, then you'd truly become a monster and there was no way for you to stop it now.

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

Morphs in the story done by the incredibly Max Morphs check out their blog and show them some love.

Here:https://www.tumblr.com/maxmorphs

#male transformation #muscle transformation #muscle #male tf #reality change #tf story #muscle morph

579 notes · View notes

johnkrrasinski · 5 years ago

Text

ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔰

Chapter 1: The Archer & The Prey

full masterlist // series masterlist

Pairings: dark!Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 4,517

Warnings: sexual themes, kidnapping, stalking. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: after the death of your mother, you decided that you were going to do something new to honor her. You chose a perfect camping spot somewhere down South. You thought it was going to be the life-changing vacation that you never had in your life, until Steve Rogers, a man existed in roughness and control all his life, found you.

a/n: this is the dark!steve rogers series that i have promised. this one is going to be much darker than the last one shot fic i posted, so please leave, if you are under 18+. please leave a like and comment. enjoy!

It had been a long time since you last went on a vacation. You had been taking care of your then sick mother, every day and barely got enough time for yourself between working your humdrum job as an accountant at Stark's Industries and rushing to the hospital every night to your mother to keep her company.

However, it's not your concern anymore now. You had just gone home from attending her funeral. It was bleak and wearisome. You had to deal with your family and friends who put on these fake, mournful faces and pretended that they were heartbroken when they never gave a shit when she was still alive and healthy. They barely took their time to visit her during her hospitalization.

Your mother was your best friend, the only person in your life who truly cared for you and took care of you during your childhood and teenager years, even after you were an adult, your mother still saw you as this little girl who needed some tending after she scrapped her knees.

You were a shy, delicate, and reticent person who kept to herself and didn't keep a lot of companion in your life. You had some classmates from high school and college that you still kept in touch with, you also had some colleagues that you would text with once in a while regarding professional matters.

However, you wouldn't consider them as friends, it wasn't about trust issues or anything severe, it was simply just who you are. You were an introvert who felt much more at ease when you are not surrounded by anyone. But your mother was the only exception, growing up as the only child of a single mother, it wasn't easy to simply let your guard down to anyone. You had learned that when you are alone, you felt less anxious and you'd like to keep it that way. Working at the Stark Industries rewarded you well but it was stressful enough as it is, you wouldn't want to add that pile of stress.

Now that your mother is gone, you've never felt more alone in your life. You walked into your apartment with hands buried in the pocket of your black coat, with your head down, you tried to hold yourself steady as you fumble for your key. You unlocked the door and you stepped into your home. You took a moment to take a deep breath and took a look at your surrounding. You felt helpless. So you took off your coat, went into a shower, and broke down into tears.

You dried yourself off later that night and put on your favorite oversized sweater, you call it your "pity sweater", you've had it in your closet since you were fifteen and every time you hit rock bottom, like the time when you first received the news that your mom was terribly ill and she only had a few more months to live, you decide that to drown yourself in your own self-pity party and of course you'd wear the right outfit to celebrate it.

You laid on your bed later that night, under the opacity of your room, trying to numb the pain by ingesting some sleeping pills, but it didn't help, your eyes are still wide open and you can still hear the resonance of your muffled sobs. Slowly but surely, the seconds turned into minutes, and before you knew it, you were fast asleep, drifting away into the land of dreams.

You are running in the middle of a dark forest, being chased by the wolves with their cuspidate teeth glistening in the murk threatening to devour you. They were running faster than the wind, you were having trouble of trying to outrun them, you felt your energy started to dwindle down, your feet got weaker and cold sweats started to break out of your skin. You were so fixated on running that you didn't realize one of the wolfpacks had caught onto your dress, it was torn away from you and you tripped and your back hit the ground. The last thing you saw was a blue-eyed wolf, gritting its fangs, staring deep into your eyes, with its face closer and closer to yours then everything went black.

The next day, you went back to your work, as usual, your boss, Tony Stark had been generous enough to offer you to take a day off, you refused it at first because if you were left alone one more second doing nothing productive, your mind would start to wander to your mother and you would end up having another breakdown on your kitchen floor. So you had to distract yourself, get your gloomy mind off the tragedy that had befallen on you. Your only escape was work.

It's not like you would hit the bar and order some drinks, it wasn't your thing. It would trigger your anxiety the minute you step foot on the door. To be at peace, all it needed was the companion of your romance novels and some hot chocolate. The concept of dressing up and going home shit faced is a foreign idea to you. It would absolutely be madness if you risked your own comfort zone just to end up in a stranger's car and not remembering a single event that happened last night. Your mother always warned you about being reckless and talking to strange men.

She would always say; "you have to be careful, y/n, there are men who are steadily seeking their next prey. They would lure you into their charm and capitalize on you in their bed. And the next thing you know, you are 4 weeks pregnant and you are going to have to carry that tiny life inside you and raise it on your own."

That's how you were born into this world, actually. You never knew who your father was, and nor did your mother. She was only 23 when she decided to live her life and savor her youth. She was a brilliant young woman who was supposed to have a long, bright future ahead of her. She had graduated from college with a psychology degree and one night, she decided to break out of her shell and accepted her roommate's invitation to go to a party. Little did she know, that party was going to turn her life upside down, forever.

She still walked away with a degree, but there wasn't an ounce of bright future left for her. She had this frail life in her belly depending on her to keep it alive. She had gone to her parents and asked for their help, but they abandoned her. They were filled with rage when your mother told them the jaw-dropping news. They were disappointed in her for being so stupid and negligent. They had high expectations for her. So when your mother begged for their forgiveness, they told her to leave their home and never show her face ever again instead.

Hence, you never knew your grandparents too well either, your mother had shown you some pictures of them, the ones that she still had despite never talking to them again, but she spoke wonderfully about how they raised her right despite their strictness and their unwavering push on her to do better. Your mother was anything but. She took care of you with gentleness and she decided that she didn't want you to live in fear of your own mother.

You loved her more than anything in life. Your mother was your whole world, the one who cured all the rainy days and gave you a secure home when the hurricane in your life was too mighty. Your world was crushed, burned, and taken away when she died. You had to be your own person now.

So you decided to take on Tony's offer of letting a week off. He told you that you need to take your time to mourn and that he didn't need you to be operating his finance when your head was clearly not in the right place. You went home early that day and make yourself some lunch.

You sat on your couch with a bowl filled with cereal in your hands, watching the rerun of Friends. It was the episode where they were going on a ski trip but Phoebe's car broke down. You loved this series and each episode always gave you a good laugh even when you don't feel like it.

It struck an idea in you, what if... You decided to go on a vacation instead of limping around in your apartment, wallowing in self-pity? Maybe it's time for you to get out of your comfort zone and do what might be best for you. It's going to be new and different and scary for sure, but you might never know if you never try. This might help you find yourself and your own inner peace. Your mom would want that for you. She used to always talk about wanting to go camping, especially when she was sick.

She said, "you know when all of this is over and I'm finally free out of this condition, I wanna go camping in the middle of the woods."

You looked up from the book you were reading, with a chuckle you amused her. "Camping, mom? Really? Never knew you were a nature person."

"Oh, I am sweetheart, I used to go hiking and climbing and skiing when I was young. I never really had that chance anymore now that I am older." She lied, she would never say it was because she had to have you that she couldn't go on all these adventures anymore. "The only problem now is that I have to endure this pain a little longer then we can explore the world as long as we want, dear." She chuckled, but her cough interrupted it.

You put down your book on your thighs and immediately reached out her hand.

"Mom, you are gonna get better, I promise. You have to."

You decided to google some camping spots that might intrigue you, you weren't looking for anything opulent or temerarious, just enough to clear your mind off the gloom and to invigorate the spirit in you to go back to work. Maybe, you'd try to meditate in the middle of the woods, yeah, you've always wondered about that, would it really be effective? This might be the time to discover the answer. You can picture it, the fresh air encompassing you, the sound of the birds chirping as if they were welcoming you, and there wouldn't be a single soul that could intrude your solitude.

After doing some research, you decided that you have found the perfect spot. A green-covered land somewhere down South, you did a little deeper digging into its whereabouts, and you took a screenshot of it and bookmarked the page.

That night, you started to feel like the match inside you was lit. After days of being engulfed in grief, you started to feel hope, just a sheer of it. But it was enough to make you feel like you weren't so lost and hopeless. You decided to have an early night after you finished watching Friends and get yourself some rest. You are going to wake up early to pack and prepare yourself to leave this godforsaken town for a few days. You were excited to see what tomorrow holds.

The next morning, you took a shower and got yourself ready. You had packed just enough to last a few days in the woods. You brought your camping tent with you, the one your mother had bought but never actually got to use it. You put your travel bag in the trunk of your car and you sat on the driver's seat to heat up the engine.

You put on some relaxing Jazz music to console your ears and to prevent your thoughts from drifting to your mother. You were going to focus on the roads and what was waiting ahead of you. The soft hum of the engine soothed you. You were savoring the crisp air of Autumn. Fall was your favorite season, the way everything seems chill and slow, it wasn't loud and harsh like summer, but it does feel like a faint new beginning in a way, like the transition of the 5 am sky, from dark hue midnight sky to a luminous royal blue.

You had the windows rolled down as the wind wafted your skin. You were dressed in your cotton knit cream sweater and a knee-length denim shorts. You had taken a quick stop at the nearest Starbucks outlet to get a cup of hot chocolate. You weren't exactly a coffee type of person. You didn't exactly get what makes people so addicted to it. You didn't like the still remaining taste despite pouring three packets of sugar on it. You loved the hot chocolate because sweetness always enlightened your mood. Your mother used to make you a glass of hot chocolate when you were groggy or when you were anxious. You guess it sticks with you no matter how old you are.

A few hours down the road, the temperature started to rise, you can feel the sticky sweat clinging on your skin cloaked under the thickness of your sweater. You stopped by the gas station to fill in your tank, you were back on the road after you bought some snacks. Not only your car that needed to be loaded, but your stomach also did.

You finally arrived at your destination. You had to drive down some uneven roads that bounced all your items inside and you were feeling a bit nauseated after hours of sitting on the driver's seat and the coarse path. But when you finally reached the spot that you found on the internet, it was worth it. You forgot all the hindrances that you had to endure to get yourself here. The pictures that you saved on your phone didn't do justice to the real scenery.

The land was surrounded by nothing but pine green circling around you. The trees were tall, venerable, and benignant. You could hear the sound of the waterfall coursing through the river and it was a picturesque sight. You took a deep breath to inhale the fresh air. For a second, you forgot what you were here in the first place, you relished the stunning mother nature before you.

But then a picture of your mother, smiling emerged into view. You remembered the look on her face when she talked about all the travel plans she had when she recovers. She never had that chance, and it tore you to pieces, again. The thing about losing someone you love the most is that no matter how many good things you have throwing themselves on your way, the pain doesn't just vanish into thin air. It leaves and comes back every once in a while. It gives you space to breathe and to collect yourself and then when it knows you've walked long enough in the light, it comes back to haunt you, reminding you that it never really left.

But you tried to focus on the present, you can't make your mother come back or travel back in time to keep her alive, so you were going to cherish this moment for her. You were going to feast on this fleeting tranquility that you have.

You stood there until you felt like you were jaded for being on your feet for too long. You went back to your car to take your tent and try to set it up. You had to look that up on the internet too, to get it standing perfectly. After what feels like your thousandth attempts, you were glad that it finally relented and let you use it as a makeshift home.

By the time you were done, it was already afternoon. You decided that you were going to take a look around the woods, you weren't going to just stay in one spot, you still had a few hours until it goes dark and of course you weren't going to be stupid enough to wander around the forest that you had never been to after dusk.

You decided you were going to just walk in nearby areas. You were terrified of getting too far, you might end up lost and couldn't find your way back. You only brought your cellphone that was practically useless because you couldn't find any signal there, but you still needed it to take pictures. You also decided to take a bottle of water with you. Quenching your thirst is essential in a journey through the woods.

You kept on walking while stopping once in a while to capture what you find stunning. You were so lost in looking for your next shot to snap, you didn't see the edged branch that was tapered pointedly until your skin grazed against it, causing a deep, painful cut on your left thigh. It was so piked that it left a horizontal shred on your knee-high shorts too.

You dropped your phone to the soil and yielded a high pitched squeal. It reminded you of the traumatic incident in kindergarten, where you were playing chase and run with a classmate, and you stumbled on a hard rock that left a permanent scar on your right knee.

You fell on the ground because you couldn't withhold the agony any longer. You try to stop the bleeding by ripping a piece of your torn jeans, even though it required some struggle. You did not want to let it get infected. You bandaged the crimson wound and you sat there for a few minutes to calm yourself down. You held yourself back on your hands pressed to the soil, you didn't care that it was going to get dirty, you just needed to find a comfortable position until you decide that you were strong enough to return to your tent.

Little did you know, your shriek had invited an unwanted presence. No, no, not the spooky kind. More like a starving wolf that you saw in your dreams a couple of nights ago, with spiked tusks ready to hunt its prey.

So much for thinking that this would be the best vacation of your life...

Steve Rogers had been living in this enormous cabin in the woods all his life. He was raised by his parents whom his grandparents trusted to take care of the cabin. When his grandfather died, he left it to his parents as his inheritance. His father used to teach him hunting and his mother used to teach him how to cook. They taught him a lot of things to survive living in the woods. It wasn't an easy life, they had to get things done all by themselves.

They had to work hard to get their basic needs. They had to habituate themselves in being isolated. It wasn't a difficult thing for Steve because he was always a lone wolf who was vigilant towards his privacy, but a part of he couldn't help but wish that he had someone to take care of. Someone he could keep to himself. Someone who he could call his and his only. Someone who he could... possess. He didn't feel lonely, no, he loved being alone. He loved his autonomy. But he was only a man after all and man has needs. When he was feeling needy and jerking himself off wasn't just doing it anymore for him, he would often go to the city, an hour drive was all it took to get to the nearest brothel house.

Whenever he walked into the door of that ranch, his steps were heard loud and clear and his presence was witnessed effortlessly. It wasn't difficult for a man like him to spend hours in the bordello, his stamina was ceaseless and, let's just say that he was an... ingenious man. He understood a woman's body and what it desires. He wasn't afraid to use his skill and his expertise to fulfill his appetite and his subject. Oh, and how he could take his time to satisfy each one of these ladies.

But whenever he was finished, he would return home with this feeling of void, yes his physical thirst was quenched and his cock wasn't painfully hard anymore that it hurt, at least he got to release the tension that would've left him high and dry if he hadn't fucked some pussy, but there was still something missing. He still hadn't found that one thing he could domineer within the privacy of the woods. The brothel provided private rooms for their customers for sure, but nothing was more pleasant to him than being in his own private quarters, and the thought that these women he had a good time with weren't exactly his, bored him.

He was fatigued by the fact that they have slept with other people too. It's not like he had some sort of attachment to any of them, but that just reminded him of something he still couldn't find. He needed to make a quick move. He was a determined man, once he set his mind on something, he will do whatever it takes to obtain it. And once he found that one girl that he knew would be his favorite possession, he would take her without a second thought and he would make her his.

He drove his beatdown truck back into the woods, the deserted road had become too familiar to him to turn on the beam headlights. He cleaned himself off under the boiling hot water, wipe away the droplets of water that were clinging to his slightly tanned skin, after years of hunting in the middle of the day where the sun was scorching hot and he never bothered of covering every inch of himself up, nobody was going to see him after all.

Later that night, he dropped himself on to the mattress without being bothered to put on any coverups. He always slept nude. It started drizzling outside when he decided that he was going to call it a night. He was going to go hunting tomorrow, so he needed to gather all his energy to make sure he wouldn't miss his target on the day. So he shut his eyes away and drifted into unconsciousness.

The next morning, he woke up precisely at 7.30 am and gathered all his hunting tools. He had his rifle and his bullets with him. Although he didn't really need much because he had been doing this his whole life, he almost never missed a shot. He was patient enough to observe his target, and he calculated his next move meticulously. He put the rifle near his nose then he waited until he knew his shot would be hit exactly between the target's eyes. Then bam! Within a matter of seconds, it ceased to breathe. Then he put the lifeless creature into his sack.

The day was still young and he decided to repose and chugged down half of the water container. When he felt energized enough, he decided to hike a little farther into the outer parts of the woods. He packed up his rifle and his water container along with his deceased prey.

That's when he heard it. An earsplitting squeal. His senses were alert enough to measure the direction of where it came from. His pace was accelerated towards it. He didn't halt until he saw a tiny, cotton-knit wrapped figure, reclining on the muddy ground, bandaging what seemed to be her wounded thigh with a piece of ripped jeans.

He stood there behind a giant tree, leaning on his arm against it, and observed the sight before him. A young, beautiful girl who didn't look any older than 25, she looked in distress. Her hands were dirty of mud. She seemed unaware of her environs.

She kept mewling in pain, he didn't know how she got the wound, although he could put it in his head that with the phone that was lying next to her, the screen still on display, and next to her head was a very twinged branch, he could put the math together and theorized that she was too starstruck by the sceneries in this woods, just like any other local tourist would, that she didn't notice the poked out, nature-made shank.

But he was entranced by the sight before him. She was really pretty, the kind of beauty that makes you want to keep your eyes on nothing else but her. Like the constellation had aligned, burst into flames, landed on the Earth, and gave birth to a woman. It was divine and striking, in the most heartwarming way.

He wasn't standing too far away but it was enough to not alarm her. The benefit was that he could keep ogling as long as he wanted. About twenty minutes had passed and she finally decided to get on her feet. She picked up her phone and pat her hands together to brush off the remnants of the dirt that were still clinging to her palms. Her sweater was slightly tarnished but she didn't seem to bother stroking it off. She walked to the other direction. She was limping but she held herself straight.

She finally halted at the place where there was a tent, illuminated from the inside, and there was a car. He learned immediately that, that's where she was staying. The usual tourist spot. He didn't see anyone else with her. She seemed to be camping alone.

That was odd, usually, couples, a group of high school kids, or families camp together. He was always irked by those intruders who occupied the land. They luxuriated from nature, but how did they pay her in return? By littering the surface and leaving junk all over the site. They didn't even bother gathering them in one place so that it would be easier for the Foresters to pick them up.

Poor girl, he thought. She must be really lonely to go out here alone. People don't choose these woods to have 'alone' time. They usually choose the libraries or the Bahamas, if they want to go a little extravagant. This girl mustn't know a lot about camping too, from the way she set up her tent, it looks slightly rumpled, it could still keep her safe though, well not too safe, now that he's here. But at least she wouldn't be soaked if it rains.

Her car was parked right behind the tent, it was a simple pearl white Chevy Spark. She seemed to travel light. He couldn't see much through the tinted windows, but he had seen giant truck cars and jeeps that were overweight with travel bags more than necessary. He memorized all the details of the setting and made a fixed resolution on his mind.

He is doing some hunting tonight...

578 notes · View notes

mynameisminhooooo · 5 years ago

Text

They get to spend all of quarantine with their s/o (Monsta X)

Request : Hi!! Could you do an exo and/or Monsta x reaction to getting to spend all of quarantine with you?

Sorry I put in bullet points bc it's felt like it made more sense? Sorry if you didn't like that. I also included what y'all would do. Bc why not¿

Shownu :

Omg this precious little bear was beyond excited to spend quarantine

Like as soon as his manager said plans were cancelled until further notice he ran out of the practice room

"Y/n I'm staying with you during quarantine..."

"Oh. Aight"

Your guy's quarantine consisted of laying in bed from the moment you woke up till 4 pm

As well as making a lot of food

And taking baths bc social distancing who?

Leads to other things 34% if the time, bc why not??

And of course singing together and him teaching you how to dance to all the songs

Cooking with this dude, where do I start

100% chance of making a mess

Would knock over bowls of side dishes while trying to grab a towel to wipe his hands

Just smiled at you when the food is all over the ground

Talking to the other members over the phone during dinner so it was like you guys were all eating together

Taking food to the other members and leaving it on the doorstep

One time they came outside before he was able to run back to the car and he was convinced he was contaminated

You had to spray him with Lysol to make him feel better

Him just being a whole lil bear the whole time

You guys would go on walks when you'd feel couped up too much

Y'all would be that extremely cute ass couple during quarantine

"I'm so glad I got to spend my quarantine with you" he'd say while kissing your forehead

"I love you y/n"

"I love me too, but your cool too"

"That's not funny" cue pout

Wonho :

Would literally be so happy to spend time with you

Hasn't seen you in like 2 weeks because of his rigorous schedule

When he finally gets to you're guy's apartment he'd just drop all his stuff and run to you, wrapping you in the biggest hug

You guys would eat until you couldn't breath

Ordering take out everyday sometimes for all 3 meals

You guys would take an online art class because why not

Video chatting his family and ofc the members to make sure everyone was well and healthy

Calling his mom 3 times a day

Would be the person who stocks up on toilet paper

Disinfecting everything every morning

Singing karaoke every day after dinner

Doing workouts in the living room because you guys gained weight and he wanted to watch his gorgeous figure

You'd help him write lyrics

You guys would try to be productive and do fun things like read at least once every other day

He'd be so happy to spend time with you like omg

Would literally cry when he looked at you sometimes bc he just loves you that much

Your guy's favorite things to do was lay in bed in each other's arms

"I wish we could stay like this forever, I love you so much y/n"

"I love you too, but can you let me go I have to pee really bad"

Your guy's quarantine would honestly be so fun

Minhyuk :

Would honestly act like he didn't want to spend time with you

"I guess I'm stuck with you"

\(-_-)/

"Your so lucky to have me, huh because I bought food"

Supports every small business and buys from all of them so they'd keep going

"I'll have 3 jars of kimchi, 2 bowls of kimchi jjigae, just give me half of everything"

"Minhyuk where are we gonna put all this the fridge is full"

Gives almost all the food to his family and the members

Buys like 2,264 board games

"Hey, you wanna play Monopoly I'll let you win"

Once again \(-_-)/

Fights about the dumbest thing

"I wanted to buy boardwalk!"

Throws your character off the board

Another person who stocks up, but he bought all the ramen

Your guy's quarantine would be so unproductive honestly

Like you guys just sit around playing board games

Listening to music all day everyday

Going for walks when the sun went down

If he sees an animal on the street he is bringing it home for "safety reasons"

"Look y/n this poor pigeon was left on the street"

Did I mention \(-_-)/

"Minhyuk... It's a pigeon"

Dancing throughout the house

He broke the TV while doing a twirl

Blames it on the pigeon, who you guys have name Piggy

Trying on each others clothes

But at the end of the day he'd be so happy he could spend his quarantine with you and Piggy

"I guess your ok to spend time with..."

Kihyun :

He would be so happy to spend time with you

Would be the most precatious person

"Put on gloves y/n"

"I'm changing the channel..."

Would 10/10 spray down everything before you guys touch it

You guys baked a lot during quarantine

Burning almost everything

Would try to make jokes the whole time

They were not good...

He would try to teach you how to hit the highest notes

Him almost breaking the window

Singing together while reading

Would call every member every day to see how they were doing

You guys would try gardening together because you guys got bored

10/10 the type of dude to telling everyone to buy from small business

If he saw anyone in the street outside the window, he'd yell at them

"Get inside!"

"Do you want to die?!"

You guys would people watch

You guys tried everything possible to pass boredom

Yoga, Singing, Staring Contests

If you got sick would literally call an ambulance

"They want to know if you have a fever, are experiencing lethargy, or have a cough?"

"Kihyun I just have a stomach ache"

Would be so relieved when he just found out it was just gas

He would not let you leave the house

"I really care about you, I cant risk you getting sick"

"You do knows there is a 3% chance of death right"

"But I wouldn't be able to see you"

Wow, whatta man

Hyungwon :

He honestly would be one of those ppl who didn't take it very very serious

"You wanna go to the park?"

"We can barely leave our house to get food?!"

"Ok, loser"

Was happy to spend time with you, but he wanted to actually do things with you like go to dinner

He just wanted to spend quality time with you

You guys would just lay in each other's arms everyday watching TV

Blinds closed letting no light in

The members would call you guys because after 3 days of nothing they were worried

"Oh we're fine, we've just been eating, sleeping and watching TV"

You guys would watch watch every variety show they have been on

You guys would try dying your hair by yourselves

"Wow y/n this blue is really nice"

"Blue it was supposed to be lilac"

How???

Shopping online for everything, food, clothes, furniture

"Y/n we need a new couch I just bought one"

\(-_-)/

You guys got erasable markers and literally drew on the wall

But they did not come off...

He would be kind of sad that he couldn't take you anywhere

But being the cutie he is he'd find ways to do cute date ideas at home

Jooheon :

"Guess what I'm coming home for quarantine!!!!"

Literally couldn't wait to hold you in his arms

Would cry when he came home, because he gets to spend time with you for who knows how long

You guys just hold each other and cry

Would follow you everywhere

If you went to get the mail he'd go with, if you needed to run to the store to get food, he's right by you

"Why is the door locked??? Y/n, you alive? Did corona get you???"

"Don't break the door down! I'm taking a bath"

"Ohhh, let me in!"

This little jerk picked the lock

You guys just sat in the tub for like 3 hours talking about what you should do during quarantine

Things you would do together during quarantine include sitting in the tub for 3 hours everyday

Calling his sister every day so he could talk to his cute niece

He would teach you all his rap parts from every song he could

You guys would send the members a goodie package every week with food and toiletries

Because he worried about them

You guys would take online dance class

Because why not???

Tango, Rumba, Foxtrot, Meringue

He would enjoy every minute with you

You're guys little vacation came to a halt when he fractured his fibula after falling down the stairs

He felt bad that you had to take care of him

But he was so grateful to have you by his side to help him

"Y/n you don't have to get up I can go to the kitchen to get a fork"

Could barely get off the couch

"Just please sit hear"

"So like you wanna bang?"

"No, I want you to get better"

After he got injured he just got so sad that he couldn't do anything with you really anymore

"I love you y/n"

"I love you too"

I.M :

He already was used to seeing you basically everyday

The only difference was you guys got to stay home

You guys didn't even have to change your schedule

He was grateful that he was able to wake up to you every morning tho

"Good morning, cutie"

"Why are you so close??"

Would be so nice the entire quarantine

Need him to wash your hair, just yell for him

Need something off the top shelf

He got it covered

There would be days where you guys just laid in bed the whole day though

You had online school throughout this time

"Y/n hang out with me!¡!¡"

"I'm doing homework for my English class"

"But I'm cuter than English class"

*insert pouty face*

Would try to get in your pants every other hour

You'd let him because ofc

"No, not now Changkyunnie..."

"Yes, now... Pleaseeeeee"

All the members would worry about you because you guys were the youngest and they thought you wouldn't take this seriously

Y'all did though, you only left the house for food

"Y/n am I cute?"

"No, now go to sleep"

"But I love you and I miss you"

"I'm right next to you and it's 3 am"

Bro. Idk why but this drained me I'm gonna write the exo one different bc I literally ran out of ideas of what to do doing quarantine.

#monsta x #monsta x wonho #monsta x shownu #monsta x jooheon #monsta x i.m #monsta x kihyun #monsta x minhyuk #monsta x hyungwon #chae hyungwon #lee jooheon #yoo kihyun #lee minhyuk #lim changkyun #im changkyun #son hyunwoo #shin hoseok #shin wonho #monsta x reaction #kpop reaction

118 notes · View notes

frankiefellinlove · 5 years ago

Text

This is it! The whole article where John Landau writes that Bruce “is the future of rock n roll”. Long but so worth the read, to see that quote in context.

GROWING YOUNG WITH ROCK AND ROLL

By Jon Landau

The Real Paper

May 22, 1974📷

It's four in the morning and raining. I'm 27 today, feeling old, listening to my records, and remembering that things were diffferent a decade ago. In 1964, I was a freshman at Brandeis University, playing guitar and banjo five hours a day, listening to records most of the rest of the time, jamming with friends during the late-night hours, working out the harmonies to Beach Boys' and Beatles' songs.

Real Paper soul writer Russell Gersten was my best friend and we would run through the 45s everyday: Dionne Warwick's "Walk On By" and "Anyone Who Had A Heart," the Drifters' "Up On the Roof," Jackie Ross' "Selfish One," the Marvellettes' "Too Many Fish in the Sea," and the one that no one ever forgets, Martha Reeves and the Vandellas' "Heat Wave." Later that year a special woman named Tamar turned me onto Wilson Pickett's "Midnight Hour" and Otis Redding's "Respect," and then came the soul. Meanwhile, I still went to bed to the sounds of the Byrds' "Mr. Tambourine Man" and later "Younger than Yesterday," still one of my favorite good-night albums. I woke up to Having a Rave-Up with the Yardbirds instead of coffee. And for a change of pace, there was always bluegrass: The Stanley Brothers, Bill Monroe, and Jimmy Martin.

Through college, I consumed sound as if it were the staff of life. Others enjoyed drugs, school, travel, adventure. I just liked music: listening to it, playing it, talking about it. If some followed the inspiration of acid, or Zen, or dropping out, I followed the spirit of rock'n'roll.

Individual songs often achieved the status of sacraments. One September, I was driving through Waltham looking for a new apartment when the sound on the car radio stunned me. I pulled over to the side of the road, turned it up, demanded silence of my friends and two minutes and fifty-six second later knew that God had spoken to me through the Four Tops' "Reach Out, I'll Be There," a record that I will cherish for as long as [I] live.

During those often lonely years, music was my constant companion and the search for the new record was like a search for a new friend and new revelation. "Mystic Eyes" open mine to whole new vistas in white rock and roll and there were days when I couldn't go to sleep without hearing it a dozen times.

Whether it was a neurotic and manic approach to music, or just a religious one, or both, I don't really care. I only know that, then, as now, I'm grateful to the artists who gave the experience to me and hope that I can always respond to them.

The records were, of course, only part of it. In '65 and '66 I played in a band, the Jellyroll, that never made it. At the time I concluded that I was too much of a perfectionist to work with the other band members; in the end I realized I was too much of an autocrat, unable to relate to other people enough to share music with them.

Realizing that I wasn't destined to play in a band, I gravitated to rock criticism. Starting with a few wretched pieces in Broadside and then some amateurish but convincing reviews in the earliest Crawdaddy, I at least found a substitute outlet for my desire to express myself about rock: If I couldn't cope with playing, I may have done better writing about it.

But in those days, I didn't see myself as a critic -- the writing was just another extension of an all-encompassing obsession. It carried over to my love for live music, which I cared for even more than the records. I went to the Club 47 three times a week and then hunted down the rock shows -- which weren't so easy to find because they weren't all conveniently located at downtown theatres. I flipped for the Animals' two-hour show at Rindge Tech; the Rolling Stones, not just at Boston Garden, where they did the best half hour rock'n'roll set I had ever seen, but at Lynn Football Stadium, where they started a riot; Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels overcoming the worst of performing conditions at Watpole Skating Rink; and the Beatles at Suffolk Down, plainly audible, beatiful to look at, and confirmation that we -- and I -- existed as a special body of people who understood the power and the flory of rock'n'roll.

I lived those days with a sense of anticipation. I worked in Briggs & Briggs a few summers and would know when the next albums were coming. The disappointment when the new Stones was a day late, the exhilaration when Another Side of Bob Dylan showed up a week early. The thrill of turning on WBZ and hearing some strange sound, both beautiful and horrible, but that demanded to be heard again; it turned out to be "You've Lost That Loving Feeling," a record that stands just behind "Reach Out I'll Be There" as means of musical catharsis.

My temperament being what it is, I often enjoyed hating as much as loving. That San Francisco shit corrupted the purity of the rock that I lvoed and I could have led a crusade against it. The Moby Grape moved me, but those songs about White Rabbits and hippie love made me laugh when they didn't make me sick. I found more rock'n'roll in the dubbed-in hysteria on the Rolling Stones Got Live if You Want It than on most San Francisco albums combined.

For every moment I remember there are a dozen I've forgotten, but I feel like they are with me on a night like this, a permanent part of my consciousness, a feeling lost on my mind but never on my soul. And then there are those individual experiences so transcendent that I can remember them as if they happened yesterday: Sam and Dave at the Soul Together at Madison Square Garden in 1967: every gesture, every movement, the order of the songs. I would give anything to hear them sing "When Something's Wrong with My Baby" just the way they did it that night.

The obsessions with Otis Redding, Jerry Butler, and B.B. King came a little bit later; each occupied six months of my time, while I digested every nuance of every album. Like the Byrds, I turn to them today and still find, when I least expect it, something new, something deeply flet, something that speaks to me.

As I left college in 1969 and went into record production I started exhausting my seemingly insatiable appetite. I felt no less intensely than before about certain artists; I just felt that way about fewer of them. I not only became more discriminating but more indifferent. I found it especially hard to listen to new faces. I had accumulated enough musical experience to fall back on when I needed its companionship but during this period in my life I found I needed music less and people, whom I spend too much of my life ignoring, much more.

Today I listen to music with a certain measure of detachment. I'm a professional and I make my living commenting on it. There are months when I hate it, going through the routine just as a shoe salesman goes through his. I follow films with the passion that music once held for me. But in my own moments of greatest need, I never give up the search for sounds that can answer every impulse, consume all emotion, cleanse and purify -- all things that we have no right to expect from even the greatest works of art but which we can occasionally derive from them.

Still, today, if I hear a record I like it is no longer a signal for me to seek out every other that the artist has made. I take them as they come, love them, and leave them. Some have stuck -- a few that come quickly to mind are Neil Young's After the Goldrush, Stevie Wonder's Innervisions, Van Morrison's Tupelo Honey, James Taylor's records, Valerie Simpson's Exposed, Randy Newman's Sail Away, Exile on Main Street, Ry Cooder's records, and, very specially, the last three albums of Joni Mitchell -- but many more slip through the mind, making much fainter impressions than their counterparts of a decade ago.

But tonight there is someone I can write of the way I used to write, without reservations of any kind. Last Thursday, at the Harvard Square theatre, I saw my rock'n'roll past flash before my eyes. And I saw something else: I saw rock and roll future and its name is Bruce Springsteen. And on a night when I needed to feel young, he made me feel like I was hearing music for the very first time.

When his two-hour set ended I could only think, can anyone really be this good; can anyone say this much to me, can rock'n'roll still speak with this kind of power and glory? And then I felt the sores on my thighs where I had been pounding my hands in time for the entire concert and knew that the answer was yes.

Springsteen does it all. He is a rock'n'roll punk, a Latin street poet, a ballet dancer, an actor, a joker, bar band leader, hot-shit rhythm guitar player, extraordinary singer, and a truly great rock'n'roll composer. He leads a band like he has been doing it forever. I racked my brains but simply can't think of a white artist who does so many things so superbly. There is no one I would rather watch on a stage today. He opened with his fabulous party record "The E Street Shuffle" -- but he slowed it down so graphically that it seemed a new song and it worked as well as the old. He took his overpowering story of a suicide, "For You," and sang it with just piano accompaniment and a voice that rang out to the very last row of the Harvard Square theatre. He did three new songs, all of them street trash rockers, one even with a "Telstar" guitar introduction and an Eddie Cochran rhythm pattern. We missed hearing his "Four Winds Blow," done to a fare-thee-well at his sensational week-long gig at Charley's but "Rosalita" never sounded better and "Kitty's Back," one of the great contemporary shuffles, rocked me out of my chair, as I personally led the crowd to its feet and kept them there.

Bruce Springsteen is a wonder to look at. Skinny, dressed like a reject from Sha Na Na, he parades in front of his all-star rhythm band like a cross between Chuck Berry, early Bob Dylan, and Marlon Brando. Every gesture, every syllable adds something to his ultimate goal -- to liberate our spirit while he liberates his by baring his soul through his music. Many try, few succeed, none more than he today.

It's five o'clock now -- I write columns like this as fast as I can for fear I'll chicken out -- and I'm listening to "Kitty's Back." I do feel old but the record and my memory of the concert has made me feel a little younger. I still feel the spirit and it still moves me.

I bought a new home this week and upstairs in the bedroom is a sleeping beauty who understands only too well what I try to do with my records and typewriter. About rock'n'roll, the Lovin' Spoonful once sang, "I'll tell you about the magic that will free your soul/But it's like trying to tell a stranger about rock'n'roll." Last Thursday, I remembered that the magic still exists and as long as I write about rock, my mission is to tell a stranger about it -- just as long as I remember that I'm the stranger I'm writing for.

33 notes · View notes

magniloquent-raven · 4 years ago

Text

finished your buckleway prompt!! hope u like it 💕💕

modern AU + werewolf AU, enjoy

posted on ao3

Heather’s been dancing around asking Robin out for the past three weeks. Billy has probably had enough of her flip-flopping between waxing poetic and bemoaning how complicated dating humans gets.

Especially since he had ended up in a storage closet with Steve on his knees a whole thirty minutes after they met, and they’d been fucking anywhere and everywhere ever since. She’s getting sick of smelling salt and sex and Steve all over their apartment, but they’ve showed no signs of slowing down. Billy’s smug as hell about it too. He loves having Steve’s scent all over their living space, the disgusting sap.

Of course, he’s still being Billy about the situation, but at least he was getting some action in between bouts of what if he leaves me when he finds out angst.

Whereas Heather is burning through more AAA batteries than she can afford to. Constantly plagued with thoughts of leaving lipstick mark up Robin’s neck, teeth on her collarbone, what that husky voice would sound like wrecked and breathy in her ear.

It’s becoming a problem.

And the closer they get to the full moon the harder it is to be around Robin. The more she wants to just throw caution to the wind, bury her face in Robin’s cleavage and ride her thigh into oblivion.

But she can’t just do that, because they like the same shitty indie bands, and Robin’s rants about the film industry are the highlight of her day, and her laugh makes Heather’s heart do backflips, and…

She’s human.

Heather can’t just jump her and run, because she’s head over fucking heels for this girl, but she has no idea how Robin would react to the werewolf revelation, so… She’s stuck.

As much as Billy pokes fun at her, and lords his relationship with Steve over her, they both know he’s being just as much of an idiot as she is. The wolf isn’t something you can hide from a partner, not for long. Billy’s playing a dangerous game.

Then again, that’s kind of his thing.

Point is, by the time the full moon comes around they’re both miserable. Billy’s been moping around their apartment all day because he had to make a lame-ass excuse to Steve about why they couldn't see each other today. He’s been looking like a lost pup for hours because Steve pouted a little over Facetime.

Meanwhile Heather’s been binging shitty rom-coms on Netflix all day, wrapped around a sweater she stole from Robin last week. It barely smells like her anymore, but it’s all she’s got.

They’re not at their best.

The itch that comes in late afternoon, when the sun starts to make its way down the horizon, is almost a relief. It might not be pleasant but at least it’s a respite from being bored and lonely.

Around dusk they head out.

Putting on a pair of running shoes and shorts pretty much covers for the fact that two grown adults sprinting into the woods at night is suspicious as hell. Hopefully. No one’s questioned them yet, anyways.

Probably helps that they run on regular days too.

Heather stops at the tree-line and sniffs the air. Everything’s sharper than it usually would be. The earth, the clean, dewy scent of wet leaves, Billy next to her, a solid, warm presence, smelling like home, pack, friend, musky and comforting under the chemical scent of all the products he slathers on.

The wind picks up.

She sniffs again.

Kali and her pack are already here. Figures. They’re always eager to let loose, full moon or not. They get especially rowdy this time of the month.

Billy whoops, taking off into the woods with a grin. He must smell them too.

She runs after him, the wind in her hair, cool air needling some colour into her cheeks. It’s exactly what she needed after the day she had. Hell, the week she’s had.

Robin is, for the first time in weeks, not at the forefront of her mind. There’s nothing but the pull of the moon, the rush of adrenaline that comes with it. The thrill of the hunt-to-be.

She won’t be chasing anything but rabbits and her friends, but the buzz is the same. Without the crushing guilt afterwards.

“Always late to the party,” Kali chides when Heather and Billy crash through the underbrush into view. She’s standing in the middle of a clearing, hands on her hips and chin tilted like she owns the place. But her smile is warm, tone teasing.

Her pack surrounds her, grinning, as always, toeing the line between feral and friendly. If Billy wasn’t so relaxed around them Heather would be on edge. They’ve always made her a little uncomfortable.

Billy blames her upper-middle-class suburban upbringing, and...well, he’s not wrong.

They embrace their wolves a little too fully, every day of the year, always just a little lupine. All of them except Kali, who stays too human, even when shifted.

Dottie breaks from the group first, leaping forward and crashing into Billy. She’s tiny, werewolf strength be damned, and he barely moves when she hits, just wraps his arms around her to swing her around while she giggles.

“You stink, Spots,” Billy says when he puts her down. “When’re you gonna stop puttin’ that shit in your hair?”

“When it stops bugging you,” she snickers.

Funshine is next, slower about moving forward, more deliberate about his hug. Dottie re-attaches herself to Billy, trying to wrap her arms around both of them. It devolves into a cluster of the six of them, all scenting each other, hands in each other's hair, arms wrapped around waists, contentment rolling off them in waves.

Heather basks in it for a second, the feeling of pack. It’s soothing, like sunshine warming her face, like a tight hug from someone you love.

It makes the change easier when it hits, moments later. It’s not the agony it was when she was alone.

It still hurts. When there’s hair sprouting like needles pushing through her skin, gums bruising as her canines turn to fangs, of course there’s pain, but the ache is dulled.

She used to hate this part. The slipping away. Changing places with the wolf inside her and feeling it happen. It felt like being torn away and locked up in her own head. She fought against it every time.

It wasn’t until she met Kali that she realized— was taught— that fighting her wolf only makes it worse. She learned to relinquish control instead of having it taken from her. To sink into her own subconscious like a warm bath, relax into it and float away. Become the wolf.

She hits the ground panting.

Claws dig into the dirt. Running shoes get kicked off. They land somewhere in the underbrush. She can sniff them out later, they aren’t a priority right now.

A whine escapes her, pressure building at the base of her skull as the moon rises.

And then it bursts. Relief in technicolour.

She’s free.

Billy is beside her, breathing hard, a guttural growl ripping from his throat. Pungent, sour distress rolls off him in waves, hits Heather’s nose like a physical blow.

He’s always had trouble relinquishing control.

She nudges his arm. Rubs their shoulders together. Kali joins them, lays a hand on his back.

He relaxes eventually, agonizing minutes later, his scent softening back to friend. Pack. Good.

Around them Kali’s pack howls, pleased. Two of them take off, chasing each other through the trees, another follows, Heather listens to their footsteps grow fainter.

Then the wind shifts and brings with it a new scent.

Familiar. Sweet, smoky. Hints of spice. Unmistakably human.

It’s faint. Far enough away that she can’t hear the heartbeat that should accompany it.

But she’d recognize that scent anywhere.

Mate.

Her wolf howls, louder than it's ever been, drowning out what’s left of Heather and her awareness slips away.

The sun wakes her.

She blinks, eyes gummy, vision blurry from sleep, spotty as she adjusts to the light.

Something beneath her shifts.

Heather stiffens.

The sound of the woods around her she expected, the scent of dried sweat on her skin, dirt under her nails. But she also expected to hear her pack’s heartbeats, smell Billy nearby, the pack blending into an overwhelming but comforting blanket of warmth around her.

There’s only one heartbeat, pounding loud and fast against her ear. One scent. Earthy. Spiced.

And afraid.

Heather pushes back, scrambling away from the warm body under her, anxiety tying her stomach in knots.

“Robin!?” she squeaks, croaky from sleep, from the change.

“What the fuck,” is all Robin manages to say. She’s shaking, wide-eyed. “Heather, what— what the fuck!”

This is...bad. Very bad.

Heather can’t do much more than gape at Robin, her brain still trying to catch up to what she’s seeing.

She tries to remember what even happened last night but all she gets are flashes. The turn. Kali’s pack howling around her. The scent of smoke and spice on the wind, of—

Oh. Oh.

She’s always been a little overwhelmed by how Robin makes her feel. Felt it immediately. That connection. A desire to know her, get close to her, keep her.

It terrified her. That Robin is human, that she felt so strongly about someone she barely knew.

That she didn’t quite know why.

Well, she knows now. And somehow the truth is more intimidating.

Of course, her wolf doesn’t care about the risks. Didn’t care, when she sprinted through the woods to find Robin. To be near her.

She remembers bits and pieces. Robin’s quiet gasp when Heather leapt into view. The fierce protectiveness she felt when she smelled Robin’s fear.

Of course, Robin was afraid of her, so getting up close and personal trying to comfort her really didn’t help. Not that she realized that at the time.

She really should be worried about bigger things right now, but embarrassment colours her cheeks anyways.

Dumbass wolf.

Robin’s breathing is starting to sound labored, panic gripping her tighter the longer Heather is silent.

“Heather?” Robin says quietly, tentatively, eyeing her cautiously.

“Um…good morning?” she responds, grimacing as she does. It’s getting hard to look Robin in the eye.

“Really?” Robin laughs, breathlessly and without humor. “Really? Because I was supposed to be waking up in my bed right about now, and instead I spent the night here, not sleeping because I blind fucking terror isn’t a great sedative.”

“Robin, I—” Heather opens and closes her mouth a few times, still at a loss for words. “I’m—I’m sorry. Just— what were you even doing out here?” she groans, burying her face in her hands.

“Full moon ritual,” Robin snaps, “You know, meditating on— no, you know what,” she shakes her head vigorously, bringing up a hand to gesture at Heather, “I’m not the one who has some fucking explaining to do. What the hell, Heather?”

“I thought the whole,” Heather waves a hand, “Hairy and growling on a full moon...thing, was pretty self-explanatory,” she says sheepishly.

“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t play dumb, you’re no good at it.”

Heather blinks. Looks up at Robin, her flushed cheeks and the indignant downturn of her mouth. Despite the circumstances, Heather’s heart flutters.

She sighs. “Alright.” Robin raises an expectant eyebrow when Heather pauses to collect her thoughts. “We spend full moons out here to be away from people. Running on basic instinct around humans generally doesn’t end well.”

“Yeah, no shit. So why am I still alive?”

“I…”

There’s no way of explaining this and keeping her and Robin’s friendship intact. Even if the werewolf thing doesn’t put her off, you never drop the mate revelation on someone you’re not even dating.

Hell, Heather’s still trying to wrap her head around it. She can only imagine how it would sound to Robin.

“Just tell me,” Robin’s pulse is skyrocketing again, and she’s worrying her shirt sleeve between her fingers. The impassive look on her face is obviously fake, she can’t quite keep herself from chewing the inside of her cheek.

Heather watches Robin’s jaw work until she smells blood. “Stop that.” She lifts a finger to poke the side of Robin’s face, but Robin tenses. Minutely. Only for a second.

But long enough.

Heather drops her hand.

“I would never hurt you,” she says softly. “I couldn’t.” Robin blinks at her, and opens her mouth like she’s going to speak but no words come out, so Heather continues.

“When I turned last night, I— I know how this sounds but— I could smell you. You smelled like home. Like… well, the point is, I just… had to find you. The details are a little sketchy, I don’t remember much besides needing to be near you. But that was all it was, Robin. Even shifted I knew you. Knew not to hurt you.”

Robin’s heartbeat hasn’t slowed. Her expression is still shell-shocked, almost more than before. Heather’s heart sinks.

Her eyes fall, unbidden, to Robin’s chest. The visible pulse under her skin. “You’re still afraid.”

“I—” Robin clutches the front of her shirt reflexively, hand over her pounding heart, and then frowns. “You can hear it,” she says, accusing, and Heather recoils.

“I’m sorry! I can’t help it.”

“Heather….” Robin groans “This whole time you could hear my heartbeat?! And smell my— my pheromones, or whatever?” She buries her face in her hands. The tips of her ears are pink.

“It’s a werewolf thing! I—” Heather stops, face burning. There’s nothing she can say to make it better. No one likes knowing that someone can smell how long it’s been since you washed your hair, or how well you washed your hands, or exactly what you’ve been binge eating at 3am. It’s invasive. Took Heather ages to get used to it after she was bitten.

In fact, it still makes her uncomfortable. Enough that she tries to ignore what she’s smelling and hearing as much as possible, for the sake of people’s privacy. And her sanity. The walls of her and Billy’s apartment are very thin.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s weird,” Heather says quietly.

“Yeah. It is,” Robin mutters, muffled by her palms. She peeks through her fingers before dropping her hands into her lap. “Look, just… give me some time, okay? I need a nap. And a shower. And…” She sighs. Tugs on a lock of her hair. “Just give me a couple days. Please.”

Heather blinks back tears. She knows what Robin is asking for is reasonable. It’s better than how she could have reacted. But it still hurts, and a part of her that wonders if a couple days are going to turn into weeks. Months. If she’s just being polite and, in fact, plans on ghosting Heather the second she’s out of sight.

“Okay.”

Robin opens the door to her apartment with shaking fingers. There’s so much on her mind, though her thoughts are muddled by sleep-deprivation, foggy and unfocused.

Heather, hair loose and wild, eyes shining in the moonlight and fixed on Robin. She stopped Robin’s heart even before the revelation that there was something different about her. In the gloom it was hard to tell at first, but details started to stick out. Her eyes were glassy. Fingernails too sharp, jagged and curled into claws. She was barefoot, her posture was all wrong. Her hair brushed aside as she moved and revealed pointed ears, covered in thick fur.

And once Robin started to panic…

Heather’s reaction made no sense.

She has a lot to think about.

Like how devastated Heather looked when Robin told her she needed some space.

“Fuck,” Robin mutters, shutting the door behind her. Maybe a little too forcefully.

“Robin?!” Steve shouts from the next room. Before she can respond he comes skidding down the hallway and barrels into her. “Where have you been?” he demands, too loud and right in her ear.

He pulls back, hands on her shoulders and gives her an appraising look.

“And why are there leaves in your hair?” He pauses, and his eyes widen, full of concern. “Robin, are you alright?”

She struggles to come up with an answer that won’t sound like a blatant lie. And besides the fact that he probably wouldn’t believe her anyways, the whole werewolf thing isn’t her secret to tell.

“I. Um. I’m fine. Ran into Heather.”

You’d think growing up queer in a small town would’ve made her a better liar.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Then why do you look miserable.”

“It’s…” she sighs, “Ask me tomorrow. Right now I need sleep.”

He frowns. Hard. Frowns with his whole body. But he nods anyway, albeit reluctantly. “I’m late for work,” he says, glancing at the clock on the wall like it’s personally responsible for his constant tardiness. “But I’ll call in sick if you want me to stay. No questions asked.”

That coaxes a smile out of her. His kindness still catches her off guard sometimes. Even after he moved to California with her when she got into uni out here. After she came out to him and he made her laugh, despite how terrified she was. After he got her through the horror of working at Scoops Ahoy.

She steps away from the door, clearing the way for him. “You don’t have any sick days left, dingus. I’ll be okay. Pretty sure I know how to take a nap without supervision.”

“Alright.” he eyes her carefully, “But text me if you need anything. I mean it.”

She nods, and tries to school her expression into something encouraging. He’s going to worry no matter what she does but she can at least try.

It doesn’t work, predictably. He leaves their apartment with a crease between his eyebrows and a lingering look at Robin before he closes the door.

“Fuck,” she mutters again.

Getting herself showered and into PJs takes longer than she’d like. There are so many leaves tangled in her hair she considers just shaving her head so she can go to sleep, and she keeps drifting off, lulled into a stupor by the hot water.

But once she’s comfortably buried under a mound of blankets, clean, warm, and so, so tired, she just lays there, awake.

She keeps replaying her and Heather’s conversation in her head, telling herself she should have reacted better, been better, not run off because...

See, the werewolf thing she probably could have handled. It’s ridiculous, and so fucking out there, but Heather’s still Heather. When she isn’t all wolfy anyway. And even that was weird but not a dealbreaker. She didn’t hurt Robin, just scared the piss out of her.

All Robin needed was to calm down a little to wrap her brain around it.

What she can’t handle is the fact that Heather, because of her fucking werewolf senses, most definitely knows exactly how attractive Robin finds her. Which is fucking mortifying.

Heather never struck Robin as the type to dance around a mutual attraction, so, clearly, it isn’t mutual, and Robin’s just been drooling over a girl who doesn’t want her. Again.

She needs a few days to lick her wounds.

Preferably starting with a goddamn nap, but sleep still eludes her.

She tosses and turns and tries not to think about sad, dark eyes. About Heather’s reassurances. I would never hurt you and You smelled like home, because what the fuck does that mean.

About Heather’s body curled around hers.

Needless to say, the countless times Robin imagined spending a night under Heather the context was very different, and the aftermath…

Robin groans into her pillow.

It takes her hours to fall asleep.

Two days later Steve has been reassured, Robin has gotten plenty of sleep, and she decides it’s time to stop moping.

Her decision to finally put pants on and leave her apartment is made only partially because she has to go to work. Really, she got to this point mostly on her own, promise.

She even sort of plans to talk to Heather today.

What she didn’t plan on was Billy Hargrove ambushing her before her shift.

She’s just barely tied her apron on when he comes storming in. The cafe isn’t even open yet.

“What. The fuck. Did you do,” he snarls, slamming his hands on the counter when he gets close enough, leaning forward to glare at her.

“Hargrove, it’s too damn early for this, what are you—”

“Heather, dumbass. Tell me what you did to her.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand. There’s a coldness in his expression she’s never seen before.

Granted, she’s only ever hung out with him when Steve is around.

The way his shoulders tense, like he’s ready for a fight, almost scares her, but she’s too busy getting angry at his belligerence.

“Fuck you. I didn’t do anything—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Something clicks into place.

“Oh,” Robin narrows her eyes, “You’re one too, aren’t you.”

Billy growls, a little more wolf than human. “Yeah, you got a problem with that? That what this is about?”

“No, oh my god.”

“Then tell me why Heather’s been a fucking wreck since the full moon. She said you found out about her, and that’s all I can get out of her.”

“I… don’t know?” Robin’s stomach flips, and clenches painfully. She tugs on a lock of her hair. “I asked her for a bit of space, that’s it. I was going to text her today.”

“You better.”

“Alright, calm down, Mr. Macho,” Robin says flatly. God, he’s just the fucking most. She’d almost be able to appreciate how much he cares about Heather, if his wrath wasn’t currently focused on her.

He glowers a bit longer before retreating. Not even a goodbye, he just storms off.

Asshole.

He’s right though, she needs to text Heather. Who’s been just as miserable as Robin, apparently.

And hasn’t told her best friend why.

That bit of information niggles at her. All through her shift it lingers in the back of her brain, hanging back but always there, like the buzzing of an insect she can’t find.

By lunchtime it’s gotten so distracting that she’s fucked up five orders and dumped two drinks on her coworker.

Thankfully she’s done at noon, and her now very annoyed coworker tells her to piss off the second her shift is over.

She hasn’t texted Heather yet.

Every time she pulls her phone out she draws a blank. Has no idea what to say. “Hey, I’m done moping, sorry I hurt your feelings” doesn't seem to cut it.

She stares at her phone for fifteen minutes, motionless and completely at a loss, then sighs and tosses it on the passenger seat of her car.

Before she has time to question whether it’s a good idea or not, she pulls out of the parking lot and heads to Heather’s apartment.

It’s only a ten minute drive, but it’s plenty of time to second guess herself. And third guess. And fourth.

But she’s here, she’s doing this. She’s sweating bullets, but it’s happening.

Two flights of stairs later she’s staring at Heather’s front door, fist poised to knock, and not moving a muscle.

She takes a step back in surprise when the door swings open suddenly.

Robin blinks.

Heather’s standing in the doorway, hair loose and frizzy, deep purple shadows under her eyes. It looks like she hasn’t slept in days.

Her mouth is hanging open a little, and she’s staring.

“Uh. Hi,” Robin says. “I… can I come in?”

“Yes. Yeah, of course,” Heather fumbles, and runs a hand through her hair as she steps aside to let Robin in.

They stand in the front hall awkwardly after the door shuts behind them, shooting each other nervous glances but unsure what to say.

“I—” Robin pauses. Looks down. “Is that my sweater?”

Heather’s eyes widen, and she grasps the hem of it nervously. “Um. Yeah. Sorry, I can—” She starts to pull it off but Robin reaches out to stop her.

“Don’t.” She wraps her fingers around Heather’s wrist. “It looks good on you.”

“...Oh.” Heather’s lips curl in a pleased smile that sparks something in Robin’s chest.

“I was being an idiot,” Robin says quickly. Her heart is starting to pound, and she catches Heather glancing down curiously. “I—I just assumed that—” She closes her eyes briefly, frustrated. It’s no less difficult to put into words in person. “Look, you know I’m into you, right?”

Heather startles, eyes going wide. “What?!”

“You…” Robin gapes at her, “You didn’t know? I thought— I mean, all those things you said about… needing to find me. During the full moon. I— you got my hopes up but then…Look, you can hear heartbeats and shit! How did you not know?!”

“I...” Heather grimaces briefly, “It’s not an exact science, okay? I mean, I hoped you were, but you’re human, Robin,” she folds her arms across her chest, hugging herself, “I was more focused on that.”

Robin furrows her brow. “What? Why?”

“Seriously? Because all I did was cuddle a little too aggressively and I scared the shit out of you,” her voice cracks and her eyes start to look watery, “You’re my mate, Robin, I’m bound to you for life! And I had no idea if you’d ever want to see me again!” She stops suddenly, bites her lip as tears slip down her cheeks.

“Oh.”

Robin’s feeling a little like she’s been conked on the head. Dazed. Her brain trying to catch up with what’s going on.

She’s known Heather less than a month and apparently they’re already werewolf married, or whatever the hell mate means.

It’s slightly terrifying, but…

“Heather, look at me.”

She does. Looks up at Robin with red-rimmed eyes, and Robin’s whole chest contracts.

Without really thinking she leans down, and presses her mouth to Heather’s. It’s brief, chaste, but still makes her stomach flip and warms her from head to toe.

When she pulls back Heather sways forward, unbalanced for a moment, her eyelashes fluttering.

“I want to give this a shot, Heather. I… I’m sorry I freaked out, but I swear, I want this. You. All of you.”

Heather grins in response, bright and dazzling. It lights up her whole face, and her eyes start to well up again. Seemingly at a loss for words she instead chooses to launch herself forward, colliding with Robin as she wraps her arms around her and crashes their lips together again.

Robin staggers back a few paces but regains her balance enough to respond in kind, smiling against Heather’s mouth.

She feels right, wrapped around Robin, feels safe. Like home.

#robin buckley #heather holloway #bucklway #bucklway fic #robin x heather #robin buckley x heather holloway #a raven's writing desk

18 notes · View notes

littleliv1 · 6 years ago

Text

I Was Born To Love You- Ben Hardy fanfic- Part Three

Hello, loves! Loving the feed back in getting on this series! It’s for sure a long one, but I hope you guys are enjoying it!

Summary: Leah and the crew flew to London to film the Live Aid performance. She opens up to Brian about her life.

Warnings: sadness, death, angst

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soon enough, Monday rolled around. It was 4 am. I grabbed my packed bags, pretty much filled with half my wardrobe and all of the make up and face/hair products I could take on the plane. I grabbed my passport, keys, purse, and phone and left for the guys' house. They were all staying in one big frat house that they had rented. After picking them up, I also picked up Bryan, Brian, and Roger.

'Austin has barely spoken to me since Tuesdasy.'

I drove to the airport. Everyone was asleep, after all, the flight left at 5 am. It was a long flight to say the least. I sat in between Ben and Gwilym. I connected with the two better anyways. Gwilym slept the whole time, and Ben complained that his back hurt and he was so tired that he couldn't sleep. I felt more like a babysitter at that moment. I comforted him and played with his hair until he fell asleep. I also fell asleep. I felt myself starting to dream.

There he was. My beautiful girl. I carried her with me for 9 months, she was 12 days early. She was so eager to get here. She loves playimg dress up. She was so outgoing. She had my eyes. I loved her so much more than I could imagine. I felt the love of my life behind me, holding me, kissing my neck. "We made that," I said, cradling his arms in mine. "We sure did." That wasn't Austin's voice. Who was this? I turned around to the familiar blonde who was currently next to me. I gasped.

I gasped so hard, I woke up. I woke up to my phone going crazy. Joe had tagged me in a picture on Instagram. It was a picture of the three of us; Gwil with his mouth wide open, dead asleep and mine and Bens heads against each other's sleeping as well. I smiled at the cuteness of the two, until I saw the comments.

'Who the hell is she?'

'Does he know she's married?'

'Her poor husband :('

They all assumed we were an item. I don't understand. "Um, Joe?" I said quietly. "What's up?" He said. "I really adore this picture, but would you mind taking it down? It's he comments," I said. He looked at it, and he looked shocked. "I'm so sorry, yes of course." He said. And with that, the picture was gone. Out of sight out of mind.

Hours later, we arrived in London. I had booked the hotel in advance, making sure the top floor of the nicest hotel in the area was reserved for them. The cast stayed in the rooms upstairs, the crew in the floor below. I figured it'd help with keeping the pap and crazy fans out. I made sure security was at its finest so the cast could from one place to another, safely. Once we arrived at the hotel, I showed everyone to their rooms. The guys requested to share a room, so I made sure they got the biggest room. It had two king sized beds. The guys, Bryan, Brian, Roger, and I had a quick meeting. I explained to all of them the plan, where everything was, and how transportation needed to go.

Rami raised his hand. "You don't have to raise your hand, Ram." I said. "Where are you sleeping?" He asked, the other guys responding with "yeah?" I laughed a bit. "I'm a few doors down. I've got the second biggest room." I said point to the direction of your room and flipping your hair. "Mmmm, no you need to sleep here with us." Gwilym said. "Who else will protect us?" Joe chimed in. "I'm your assistant, not your body guard." I said giggling a bit. I really was their babysitter. "Please, Leah? Pretty pretty please?" Ben whined. "I'll stay in here for as long as you want but I'm sleeping in my room, end of discussion. I'm married, remember?" I said, showing my beautiful ring. Ben looked at me, raising his eye brows. Only he knew what had happened. "I'm starving," Roger said. "Where can we eat?" "You guys can stay in my room and eat. My bags are unpacked and my room is ready, someone else is coming up here with your bags. I would unpack them for you but those are your personal belongings and I wouldn't feel comfortable with touching them. I've ordered some room service, I already know what you all like, so you guys can head over to my room," I said handing Bryan my key. "And chill out there for a bit. Just don't go through my stuff." I said. Everyone got up, Ben was the last out. Before he left, it was just us two in the room.

"How are things?" He said looking at my arm, the bruises had gone away. I nodded my head. "Okay. Could be better. Hasn't really talked to me. He's only come home before 3 am once last week." He could tell I had been holding these feelings in. "It sounds like to me you need to talk to someone about it. Get a second opinion." He said crossing his arms. I shrugged my shoulders. "Not much to talk about, really. He started to get really possessive and jealous when I took the job as assistant to Bryan. He's convinced that you all won't respect me. He didn't even care that I was leaving for a month or more. He only makes love to me when he's drunk, and it's not even passionate anymore. Just drunk, messy, and to be blunt, short. It's like he doesn't love me anymore but I know that's not true, I don't think." I said. I realized I had been rambling on for a while, I rambled myself near to tears.

I looked up at him and he seemed genuinely hurt by that fact that I'm hurting. I opened my mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a knock at the door and it opened slowly. "Bags, ma'am." A man said. "It's okay, come on in, leave them out infront if the beds, the boys can choose where they sleep." I said to him. He obeyed, and left to deliver more bags. "Sorry. I just can't really deal with this right now. It's best that we have this break, maybe this is just what we needed right now, a break. I don't want to focus on it, I want to focus on the movie." I said. I nodded at your comment. "Yeah." I said walking out of the room, into my room.

"Leah, you're a genius. How'd you know what we all liked?" Brian said. I laughed a bit. "It's my job to know." I said. I hadn't finished unpacking my bathroom bag, so I grabbed that and start to unpack it. "Hey, where's Ben?" Rami asked. "Probably still in your all's room. Your bags are in there, he might just be unpacking his. You all need to pick your beds." I said from the bathroom. Joe jumped up, running out the door. "I call next to Ben!" He yelled running to his room. The others followed. As I was unpacking, I saw some feminine hygiene things, which reminded me. I hadn't started yet. What day was it? I forgot when I started, but my period was never regular. I just knew I hadn't had one yet this month, and the month was almost over. 'Oh god please no...' I thought to myself. I couldn't have a baby, not right now at least. Not until he was better. Because he was sick. That's why he hurts me. He's just sick. While I was staring at it, Brian came to the door, knocking quietly. He smiled nicely at me. "Everything alright?" He asked, leaning against the door. "Oh, uh, yeah." I said, throwing them in your bathroom box, it was three drawers on wheels to keep things in when I'm away for long periods of time. "Anything I can do you for, sir?" I asked, making eye contact. The way he looked reminded me of my parents. It was hard to look at him but harder to look away. He shook his head. "No, not at the moment. You don't have to call me sir, love. Just Brian will be okay." He said smiling again. I nodded your head. I didn't mean to seem tense, but I couldn't help it.

"It's just you and me in here right now, but I want to get to know you, if that's alright." He said. "Alright, what would you like to know?" I said leaving the bathroom, sitting at the small table provided in my room. He sat across from me, facing the door. "Tell me about when you first listened to Queen." He said. "Hmm," I hummed, I don't really remember Queen becoming part of my life, they just were. "I can't say I remember, no. My parents," I choked at that word. "My parents, really enjoyed the music. Went to concerts all over the world, followed your A Night At The Opera tour, even. You all were part of our family. When Freddie died, it felt like they lost someone. It was very personal to them." I explained, chewing at my lip, praying he wouldn't ask what he was about to ask. "How did they react when you told them about this movie?" He asked curiously. I couldn't help but to get mad, but I couldn't show it at all, the man didn't know they were gone, it wasn't his fault.

'They were gone,' I thought.

I laughed to myself a bit. Not because it was funny, just ironic. I looked down, trying hard to not shed the tears that were already coming. "They, uh," I started. He grabbed my hand, he could tell this was hard for me. "They're no longer here." I said, wiping away the tears to keep my make up from running. He squeezed my hand, looking shocked and feeling the pain I felt. "They passed away in this crazy train wreck, it'll be two years next week actually. It happened about three hours south of here." I said trying not to lose control. "I haven't tried avoiding you or Roger by any means. It's just so painful still, but getting to know you two, two people who I've considered family my entire life, it's been incredible. Unreal. I'm so honored to assist you both." I said, looking in his eyes, with salty tears in mine. Right now, I just wanted Lola.

I felt a bond with him. Obviously not in a romantic, gross type of way. But I haven't felt a connection, a family connection, with someone in a while and I knew my body ached for it again.

"I'm so sorry, my love." He said. I shook my head. "No it's okay, I'm fine. It's still just so hard. I didn't have siblings, my parents, who were both only child's, are gone. My only family now is my husband and he comes home smelling like alcohol and uses me as a punching bag and a sex toy and-" I stopped myself when that came out. Brian grabbed my hand with his other hand. "You need to leave him, Leah. We're your family now." He said so genuinely. I shook my head. "No I'm just your assistant. That's all I'm good at is doing stuff for others. Not that I don't want to, I love helping you guys do things when you need help!" I said correcting myself, not wanting to sound ungrateful. I couldn't help but to break down. "I'm sorry." I said, I couldn't help but sob.

With that, my phone went off. The touring manager calls. I think it's about the set, there's been a lot of issues with that. "I'm sorry." I repeated. I felt bad because my problems weren't his and I know that, I just couldn't help telling him. And I left the room.

Ahh! So exciting finally getting to share this series! I might post part four later today. Hope you all are enjoying! Xx

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #ben hardy fanfic #sadness #brian may is literally a dad

5 notes · View notes