#i have sat and written like 2000 words in the past few hours which is more than i wrote on my 2 big written uni assignments combined

[thatstheproblemwithnapkinman]

when you're 5000 words into a once-shot and the urge to accurately describe an earthquake rescue attempt takes over and it's the most in-detail part of your fic

and it's all about dick dealing with his insecurities and fears about his responsibility just after he's been a little dork

[vgilantee]

dorm room antics {ethan landry}

ethan landry x fem!reader

requested: n/a

words: 2k

a/n: surprise! turns out when my brain decides to work, i can write a 2k word fic in three hours. which means you guys get a march fic! this fic is part of what i like to call “char’s ethan fic universe” in which i haven’t written any other fics, but it’s all apart of the long ask i sent julie (this one here) so i will mention a couple things here that reference it. Also on referencing things, i was tempted make a star wars reference in here, but julie doesn’t need more reasons to point and laugh at me and call me a star wars nerd (julie would never point and laugh at me, i love her). This is not a smut but things get a little steamy. There may be an alternate version that starts the same but is nsfw (oh my god finding a gif for this fic was too hard and this isn't even the one i wanted, but tumblr hates me)

warnings: steamy!, if you were reading fanfics in the 2000s/early 2010s this would count as an orange

pronouns: none used

You had everyone’s timetables memorised, all of you did. It was one of the first things the four of you did at the start of each semester; you sat down and learned each timetable so you always knew where each other was throughout the day. It was how you knew that Chad would be out of his dorm. 

You knocked on the door, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Ethan didn’t know you were coming over, you wanted to surprise him with your company on his day free of classes. After your first and only class of the day, you would usually be with Mindy in the library or Tara in one of her lectures. But Mindy had ditched you to spend time with Anika, and Tara was in bed with the flu. Not that you needed the excuses to spend time with Ethan, but Mindy didn’t entirely trust him, so the excuses were required to satiate her. 

The sounds of moving around came through the door, and you heard Ethan muttering that he was coming. 

“Oh, hey.” Ethan’s curls bounced a little as his head tilted in surprise. He gave you a dopey smile and stepped to the side, letting you move past him and into the room. You had been in the dorm a few times, but you still couldn’t help turning in a slow circle to look around. On his bed was a textbook and notebook, as well as various pens scattered on the sheets. 

“Sorry, did I interrupt your studying?” You turned back to face him, lazily pointing at the study supplies on his navy sheets. Ethan blinked, almost as if he forgot the stationery was even there, before shaking his head. As he did, you noticed just how long his curls have gotten, falling into his eyes more than usual.

“No. I mean yeah but-” He bit his lower lip gently. “You’re always welcome to interrupt my study.” Ethan’s mouth quirked in a shy smile, trying to hide how he cringed at what he said. 

You took a step toward him and reached your hands up to his shoulders, lazily looping them around the back of his neck. Almost immediately, Ethan’s hands moved around your waist and pulled you flush against him. 

“Are you sure? I can leave you to your…” you glanced over at his bed to try and decipher what subject he was studying, “I have no idea what that is but I’m sure it’s important.” You felt the breath of Ethan’s laugh against your hair. 

“It’s programming and yeah, I’m sure.” You turned back to him, making quick glances down at his mouth that was so close. “Don’t leave.” Ethan’s voice was barely a whisper, embarrassed but pleading, and you stopped fighting the voice in your head and leaned up to finally kiss him. 

It quickly deepened, one of your hands moving to his face and the other weaving into his hair. Ethan’s fingers dug into your waist, pulling you even closer to him, so close that one of his feet ended up between yours.

When you pulled back to take a breath, you kept your eyes closed, foreheads rested together. 

“Bed?” You felt his hands tighten slightly as your breath hit his mouth. You and Ethan had slept together before, but only a handful of times, and every time Ethan started out quietly excited, and shy. 

Ethan let out a single hum before dropping his hands to the backs of your thighs, encouraging you to jump lightly and wrap your legs around his waist. As soon as he was sure you’re safely held up, he took the five steps from the door to his bed. You expected him to place you on the bed, but instead he turned and sat down, sitting you on his lap. As soon as you’re comfortable (which took a fraction of a second) you pulled him forward by the back of his neck, reigniting the kiss more desperately. You left one hand weaved into his curls, but the other dropped to grip his bicep. 

His hands slide up from your thighs, pausing briefly on your ass to give the muscles a gentle squeeze. You rolled your hips gently forward in response to the squeeze, and you felt the light vibration of his hum against your mouth. Ethan moved his hands up a little further, encouraging your movement, and you gently bit his bottom lip. Ethan opened his mouth and the kiss quickly became messier, tongues rolling against each other and teeth occasionally bumping. 

As you moved to pull away, you pulled Ethan’s tongue into your mouth and sucked on it gently pulling a moan from deep in his throat. You opened your eyes, seeing him with his cheeks flushed red and his eyes still closed, his mouth opened slightly. 

You could never get over how pretty he was, especially when so flushed. And you always felt a swell of pride because you were the one able to get him like that and the only one who got to see the sight underneath you. 

Ethan slowly opened his eyes, pupils blown. He slowly raised a hand, pushing some of the hair that had fallen out of its place in your ponytail behind your ear before quickly leaning down and gently bit and kissed at your neck. Your head rolled to the side, desperately exposing more skin for him to give attention to. His tongue rolling over his teeth marks elicited gasps from you, your fingers lightly tugging at his hair in a silent plead for more. 

A soft moan broke from your throat as Ethan bit down, slightly harder, and sucked, determined to leave a deep mark. You pulled harder at his curls in retaliation and rolled your hips against him. Ethan dragged his tongue across the mark, continuing to move it up your neck and along your jaw until his mouth meets yours again for a short kiss. 

“You sure?” Regardless of how many times you made it clear to Ethan that you wanted him, he always asked, checked to make sure that you hadn’t changed your mind. You rolled your hips again in a silent reply.

“Completely.” Ethan let out a whimper before pulling your hips down, letting you feel his need for you under your core. You let out a choked sound before pulling Ethan into a rough kiss that left him gasping. 

For every roll of your hips, Ethan responded with a sound against your mouth, though it didn’t take long for him to begin retaliating instead with soft thrusts upward. Your head fell back with a breathy moan, and Ethan quickly began pressing open mouthed kisses to your throat, humming every time he felt you make sounds. 

“Ethan.” You whispered out his name and his hips twitched forward, further into you than his teasing rolls. Using the hand in his hair, you pulled his face back to you, and your other hand slid down his chest before slipping under the hem of his shirt. Your fingertips grazed across his abs, and you smiled against his mouth as stomach flinched from your touch. Your hand continued to move up to his chest, dragging his shirt with him, until you pulled away, silently begging for him to take off his shirt.

Ethan dragged his hands from your waist, across your thighs, prolonging taking his hands away from you, but finally he did, following your quiet ask and took off his shirt. You raked your fingernails down his chest to his stomach pulling a whimper from Ethan, before your hands quickly moved to loop around the back of his neck, moving to kiss him as his warm hands met your skin again, one hand snaking under your shirt to rest on the bare small of your back, and the other resting softly on your cheek.

You gently let out a moan as Ethan bit down on your bottom lip, your nails digging softly into the skin on the nape of his neck.

“Oh, fuck!” Chad’s sudden voice caused you to jolt. You hadn’t even heard the door open, you were so engrossed in the feeling of Ethan. Ethan quickly pulled away from you, and you tried not to follow after his suddenly-missing mouth. “Ew, that is so not what I wanted to see in my dorm.” You rolled your eyes, flipping Chad off over your shoulder. 

You tried to fight the soft smile as Ethan pressed his face into the side of your neck, wanting so desperately to hide from his roommate. His soft curls brushed against your skin, raising goosebumps. 

Turning to follow the movement of your arm, you glared at Chad, who had a hand over his eyes while dramatically using the other to feel around for his side of the room. 

“Oh fuck off, Chad.” You said with a slightly amused laugh. Ethan sighed into your neck and the sudden breath made you realise that you were gently stroking his hair. Your fond smile won against your fighting as Ethan hid. 

“This is my room!” Chad threw his hand up, keeping the one already over his eyes pressed firmly in place. “Now, are you done dry humping each other so I can grab my shit?” You reached for the bed beside where Ethan was sitting and grabbed one of his pens, throwing it at Chad but missing. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Slowly, ever the drama queen, Chad peels his hand from his eyes, letting out an exaggerated sound of relief.

“I can’t believe you almost defiled my poor, virgin eyes.” He pressed a hand to his heart while walking toward his desk to grab his forgotten textbook. “Corrupting my innocent soul with your filth.” You threw another pen at him, this one hitting him square in the head. 

“Innocent, my ass.” Chad let out an indignant gasp. “Don’t you,” you mocked the sound he made, “me, fucker. I’ve walked in on you doing worse.” He gasped again. 

“I would never!” His voice was weighed down with sarcasm and he pressed his textbook to his chest. Chad tsked at you before walked back to the door. “Don’t get cum stains on my bed, assholes.” Ethan let out an embarrassed groan against you skin, and you flipped Chad off again.

“I’m going to move to your bed just to spite you.” Chad scrunched his nose in disgust and Ethan pulled back from your neck to stare at you in shock, praying you weren’t serious.

“You’re fucking disgusting.” Chad, ever the dramatic, pulled the door shut, ensuring that he got the final word. When you looked back to Ethan, he was still looking at you, eyes wide in horror. You winked at him with a smile. 

“You wouldn’t..?” You snorted out a laugh and your head fell back, shaking your head. 

“Fuck no.” You ran the backs of your fingers across his cheek softly, revelling in the embarrassed flush on his cheeks. Ethan sighed, leaning into your fingers. “He would be so lucky.” His mouth dropped open again and you leaned forward to kiss him on the tip of his nose. Ethan let out a contented hum, and the soft sound caused your hips to grind against him on their own. Once again, Ethan’s fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your waist.

“Did he ruin the mood?” Your voice was shy, unsure whether his bruising fingers was a warning to stop, or him trying to hold back. 

“No. Not for me.” Ethan leaned forward as he spoke, saying the words against your shoulder before pressing a light kiss to your skin, rolling his hips up lightly against you to pull a sigh from you while your head rolled back. “Not when you look like that on my lap.” Neither you nor Ethan knew where his confidence came from, but you quickly pushed your questioning aside as he pulled your core down against the tightness in his trousers and bit down on your shoulder softly. 

moot tagging: @websterss

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader Rating: T for teen for mild language. Later entries in the series will be more mature though, just a heads up Warnings: None this chapter. There will probably be canon typical violence/blood mentioned or referenced in future chapters though, cuz, ya know, vampire ladies? Notes: No beta reader, we die like Ethan Winters’ hands (repeatedly, and with odd frequency)

Chapter 1: Nocturne

     Of all the tasks assigned to you, none were as bittersweet as that of dusting Lady Dimitrescu’s piano. Years ago, before you had been shuffled off to a remote European village, before you had been roughly snatched from your home, before… this, you had been taught to play music. From a young age it brought you comfort, entertained you on quiet days, and even made you your fair share of friends. Though you had experimented with a handful of instruments, none felt more natural than piano. Leaving your family’s heirloom piano behind was one of the hardest things you had ever had to do. 

     Until you arrived at Castle Dimitrescu, at least. Sweat often dropped off your brow as you spent endless hours scrubbing floors, carrying baskets of clothes or mysterious parcels of meat up and down flights of stairs, rushing to and fro rooms across the estate. Physical labor was no stranger to you, but no employer had ever been as demanding as those you now served. Hence part of why you always breathed a sigh of relief when you were chosen to dust the piano. It was hardly a demanding task, even when you had to take care not to accidentally let the keys make any noise. No one was allowed to play it without permission (and that was never given).

     Which brought you an aching sensation at the core of your chest, balled up alongside past regrets, a hundred million thoughts of alternative realities where you didn’t hurt so much. There was no point in imagining what choices might have saved you from your fate… and yet you did so anyway. Sometimes you thought about barricading yourself in the room, just so you could play a couple songs, even if it would guarantee you a painful death. But you could never bring yourself to willingly disobey Lady Dimitrescu; not when you had heard the wails and screams of Maidens a few floors below.

     Yes, you would never willingly, knowingly do such. That wasn’t to say you were incapable of mistakes. No, you weren’t that fortunate. It was such a simple error, really, just a misjudgment of the cloth held between your fingers. Your hand slipped. That was all. But that slip led to an accidental press of a key- f#, if you heard right- that sounded throughout the room with damning clarity. Just like that, you felt the pitiful thing you called life shatter to pieces on the floor. Inside your chest your heart started to pound, a metronome speeding this performance along to its end.

     Had you not been paralyzed with dread, you might have accepted your fate with enough grace to sit down, play those last few tunes like you had daydreamed about so many times. But you didn’t, couldn’t. All you felt you could do was strain your ears and listen for the impending sounds of angry footsteps.

     Instead your concentration was interrupted by a door flying open, hitting the wall with a slam you knew would leave a dent, as a swarm of insects burst in. Nearly jumping out of your skin you put a hand to your chest, half expecting not to feel a heartbeat anymore. The rhythm was off, for sure, and it skipped a beat when the swarm surged together to form a somewhat familiar figure: Daniela Dimitrescu. Leaning against the piano, one hand bracing against it, the woman pretended to examine her sickle, idly twisting it back and forth in her hand. When she spoke, she didn’t even bother to glance in your direction.

     “I never understood why mother dedicated a whole room to this,” she muses, casually inclining her head towards the piano. “It’s not like any of our instructors lasted very long. Why not let this gather dust with the rest of the useless junk somewhere upstairs?” There’s a pause, and for a moment you mentally debate whether or not you’re supposed to respond. Apparently not, as Daniela soon turns to you and speaks more directly, which is grand, really, as your tongue felt as if it was glued to the roof of your mouth. “Maybe she knew someday someone would come along to serenade us. And you clearly know how to play, otherwise you wouldn’t have dared to make a sound.”

     Stepping forward, she extends a gloved hand, cupping your chin so gently that you almost couldn’t feel her touch. Her gaze, however, was dangerously intense, unblinking, and filled with far less joy than her grin would suggest. The touch lasts only a few seconds. Just long enough to leave you shaking with anticipation. Daniela’s toothy smile only widens as she backs up, keeping her eyes on you even as she reclines into a chair in the corner of the room. You almost wished she would just get it over with and kill you. Whatever she had in mind would be worse in the end, yes? 

     “Well? Aren’t you going to play for me? Show me how much you love me? I don’t have all night,” Daniela says expectantly. She’s relaxed fully, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, spine pressed up against the back of the chair, but she hasn’t set her sickle down. There’s a clear threat in the way she holds it, grip tight enough to let you know that she’s still ready (and itching) to use it.

     You couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be acting differently if she knew that you did, in fact, know how to play. Was this just a teasing start to your punishment? Or was there a part of her genuinely interested in hearing music? Obviously you hoped for the latter. Hell, you practically prayed for it as you slowly pulled out the piano bench, awkwardly sat down, and urged your body to remember a song. What genre would a vampire from the 1950’s even enjoy? All you knew were bits and pieces of a few classics, a couple chord progressions from early 2000’s hits, and a handful of songs you had written yourself.

     There wasn’t much time to ponder, not with Daniela’s gaze burning a whole in the side of your head. So you simply pressed your fingers to the keys, took a deep breath, and let muscle memory take over. Your eyes became half lidded as you started to play, hardly paying attention to what you were doing. It felt like a single glance at your captor would result in the worst case of stage fright known to mankind. Instead you focused on the piano’s wooden frame, and the many grain marks twisting within.

     All the while your fingers glided over the keys, delicately pressing here and there, starting with something simple. Little more than a chord on your left hand, followed with a few short notes on your right, repeating in different places up and down the scale. It was almost a test, a gentle showing to see what Daniela would do. You still refused to look at her, even when you heard what sounded like a bored sigh. A knot tied itself in your stomach, and you gulped, before you shifted mental gears. Evidently “soft and simple” wasn’t going to cut it. Hopefully you could please one Lady without earning the ire of any of the others.

     So you paused, letting the notes suspend in the air for a moment, and came back swinging. The kiddy gloves were off, abandoned on the floor with your sense of caution. Grander things came back to mind as your fingers danced atop the keys, stretching chords and melodies alongside each other, the best of what you recalled pouring out of you without a sign of stopping. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Daniela sit up, paying more attention then she had at the start. Confidence found itself growing at the center of your chest, and it managed to turn your lips up into a smile. How long had it been since you had been able to perform like this? Years? A decade, even? You didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

     Minutes passed by like this, with your hands moving constantly, even as your gaze never shifted. It was heaven channeled on Earth. Whatever was to come after, death or dismemberment, you couldn’t care less. Let them take your blood, your life. They could never take this music from your mind, from your memories, or the joy it inspired in you. If you were to die soon, at least you had been given one last soliloquy.

     Eventually the song had to end. It was a bitter moment, one you dreaded for its followup, but otherwise would have found pride in. After all, you were evidently the first maiden to give a performance (at least of this variety) to one of the Dimitrescu sisters! Certainly that was an accomplishment? Maybe your brain would let you celebrate later… assuming you survived. Daniela had stayed quiet since her earlier sigh, letting you play on without interruption thus far. Now that the song was over you didn’t know what to expect. Knowing Daniela, or at least knowing the rumors surrounding you, it was hard to imagine that anything you could expect would be accurate.

     “How long have you been hiding this little talent of yours?” She coos, clapping her hands together with a short giggle. So far so good, you thought, clinging desperately to hope. Once more she rose to her feet, moving so smoothly she might as well have been gliding, and ended up by your side. This time her hand rested on your shoulder, putting enough pressure to keep you from moving. “Don’t tell me you’re shy, that would simply be too… precious.” With that said her hand trails along your shoulder, across your collarbone, up your neck, then rests for a moment on your cheek. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, which only encourages Daniela, and she tucks a strand of your hair behind her ear.

     Before she can say more, or you could even attempt to form words, there’s the faint sound of someone yelling in the distance. A name, you think, although it’s not loud enough for you to make out who’s being called. The answer becomes evident soon enough, however, as Daniela pulls back from you suddenly, smile trading out for a scowl. Some part of you instantly misses her touch, leaving the rest of you confused more than anything.

     “Get back to your work, then,” Daniela says, roughly, the playfulness in her voice now entirely absent. It was such a sudden change in demeanor that you didn’t know how to react. Thankfully her eyes were no longer on you, and she was already moving towards the door. Had you really managed to play your way out of a punishment? You knew for a fact that at least one other maiden had lost her life for making the same mistake you did, yet now Daniela looks ready to leave without so much as a slap on the wrist. But she does pause in the doorway, as if reading your thoughts, and throws you a look over her shoulder. Her eyes narrow for a split second before she gives you one last wicked grin. “Don’t worry, sweet thing, I won’t forget you anytime soon.”

     Just like that she was gone, into a cloud of insects, out the door and into the corridor beyond. The tension in the room had left, you could finally breathe easy… and yet still your mind was racing. Those words she had left you with- were they a threat? Or a promise of something softer? Only time would tell.

[simplee-dreaming]

The Party

A/N: I spent far too much time deciding how all of their outfits were gonna look so I hope it paid off. Also, I know some things I mention have different names in different countries but I've gone for what I only know as the British version. Hope you like it! (Totally didn't get inspiration for this idea from driving past a joke shop myself...)

Word count: 2951

Summary: The reader attends her first themed party hosted by RDJ, but her outfit lands her in trouble.

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

Tonight was the night. The night you had been waiting for for weeks. A party at Robert Downey Jr’s house. But not just any old party, oh no, a party for the Avengers cast. Not even just a party - a themed party.

See, Robert is well known for his themed parties. Of course he’s done the classics such as the black and white theme, the 80s theme, even the “dress as your favourite superhero” theme - what could be more suited? But he’s also well known for his unique themes. For example: dress as what you wanted to be when you were a kid; dress as your favourite fruit or veg; dress as another member of the cast; dress as your favourite gay icon. The list goes on.

This was your very first party with the cast though. Being the newest member, you were super excited to have a great night with them all outside of work - plus little Tom couldn’t stop guessing what this theme could be. It was, of course:

“Dress as your favourite board game.”

Yep. Board games.

You spent ages trying to figure out what board game you were going to dress up as. The main rule of the themed parties was that you couldn’t tell other people what you were going as unless you deliberately needed someone else to complete your outfit.

You were desperate for ideas now that the party was only a week away. It wasn’t until you were walking down the highstreet, and something in the shop window caught your eye, that you finally had an idea. You were standing outside of a joke shop, and in the window stood a dress...designed like a Twister mat.

Perfect.

The day had finally arrived. No one was filming today so you had all day to get yourself ready. Hair and makeup done, Twister dress on, ready to rumble.

You made your way to RDJ’s house at half 8 - late enough to not be the first one there but early enough to enjoy everyone’s company for longer. You smiled with glee as you stepped into the house. You were tingling with excitement as you walked towards the room where the music played. The minute you walked into the room, everyone approached you. And one by one you scanned them all to see what they were dressed as.

The first person you saw was Anthony, he was dressed up as Cards Against Humanity. Not quite a board game but funny nonetheless. The front of his outfit was completely black and the back was completely white. The writing on his front read “I drink to forget _____”, and the writing on his back read “Tom Holland”. You giggled.

Next was Scarlett. She decided to come dressed as Pictionary. Part of her outfit was made with polyester and nylon, and she carried around a whiteboard marker so that anyone could draw a picture on her outfit and others had to guess what it was. This could also be wiped off easily, ready for the next person to draw.

Sebastian was next, you snorted when you saw him. He was dressed as Frustration. His outfit was divided into the four colours: his top right being yellow, top left being green, bottom right being blue and bottom left being red. He had placed a semisphere plastic hat over his head and inside lay a foam dice which jumped about whenever he shook his head.

After Seb came Liz. She was dressed up as Uno. Her front and back were two different colours of the uno reverse card - the front being red and the back being green. The point of this is that whenever someone asked her to do something she didn’t wanna do, she’d just point to her outfit and get out of doing it.

Next was Paul B. He came as Trivial Pursuit. Random questions and answers were plastered all over his suit, such as: “how many feet are there in a fathom? 6”; “What three-word slogan was named the most popular advertisement ever in a 2000 poll? Beanz Meanz Heinz”; and his own personal saying, “Where do snitches end up? In ditches”.

Following Paul was the unsurprising double act. Big Tom and Hemsy. They had come dressed as Snakes and Ladders. Tom had glued a giant toy python to his all-black outfit, and Chris had stuck a cardboard ladder to the front and back of his all-white outfit. Simple, yet effective.

Then came Evans who was dressed as Noughts and Crosses, despite numerous comments from RDJ about it not being a board game. His back was full of paper noughts and crosses stuck to his top but his front had a similar material to Scarlett’s where the cast could play their own game on his front and then wipe it off for the next players.

You scanned little Tom next. He had gone all out with his outfit, dressing up as Operation. He was wearing a light pink coloured top and matching trousers and had stapled all the pieces of operation to their correct areas, such as the butterfly, the spare rib and the wish bone. He’d also used face paint to paint his nose a dark shade of red. Adorably creepy in a way.

Last, but certainly not least, was the man himself. Robert Downey Jr. He came as the popular game Cluedo. And boy did he look fancy. He wore a top hat that had a giant question mark stuck to it, and a tuxedo with a long sweeping tail attached to the jacket. Neatly placed all over his black suit were the names of the suspects, the names of the rooms and the names of the weapons - all written in white. He looked splendid.

“Twister. How unusual. I love it,” Robert said, the others nodded in agreement.

“Thanks, you all look incredible,” you said.

Little Tom held out his arm and led you to the dance floor where you spent the next hour dancing the night away. Big Tom and Hemsy were owning the dance floor with their moves. Many party classics blared through the speakers, including 5,6,7,8...which you knew the dance off by heart but RDJ had to be taught the moves by you and little Tom.

Another hour passed and you were sat with Scarlett, Liz and Paul in the other room where the music wasn’t so loud. Seb was with you but he had asked Liz to get him a drink and she played the uno reversal so now he was on drinks duty.

“Paul, can I borrow your suit just so I can literally look smarter?” You asked, he chuckled.

“Maybe I can just follow you around and relay the facts for you,”

“You could be the Yoda to my Luke. Though I think you’re too big to sit on my back,” you said.

“Here’s your punch,” said Seb, returning with two cups for him and Liz.

“Finally, what took you so long?” she asked.

“I stopped in the party room, Anthony and little Tom are having a competition to see who can do the macarena better,” he said.

“But...the macarena is the macarena…” you said, confused.

“Try telling them that. Tom insisted that the Brits do it better apparently.”

“Well, we do have some absolute bangers,” you chuckled. Paul agreed.

“So where did you get that dress?” Scarlett asked you.

“The joke shop down the highstreet. I was walking past it last week and found it in the window. Thought it would be perfect,” you shrugged.

“Until Mackie gets over excited and plays Twister on you,” Seb said.

“I’d like to see him try,” you replied.

“Ah, here’s the gang. What are you all doing in here?” Robert said, entering the room with big Tom and Evans.

“We’re just sat chatting….wait, have you left Holland and Mackie alone?” Seb asked.

“They’re fine, Chris is with them,” Tom replied. You tilted your head at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe I should check on them…” Tom said, you nodded and he left the room.

“Soooo, how’s it going?” Evans asked everyone.

“We’re all fine but Y/N is a bit twisted,” Seb said. Everyone laughed but you bonked him on the head, making the dice jolt.

“Oi!”

You giggled and slapped the plastic hat again, the dice landed on a 6.

“Eyy I get another go!” You cheered before bonking him on the head again. He sighed but chuckled.

“Well it’s nice to see her dressed as an actual board game,” Robert said, turning to Evans.

“Hey, that’s not fair! Noughts and crosses is a board game!” Evans protested.

“I wanna play,” you said. Evans smiled at you.

You got Liz to play with you and you went first. You decided to play as noughts and took the bottom left corner. After a few rounds, you got a straight diagonal line. You cheered as Liz huffed, but she congratulated you nonetheless.

“I wanna play pictionary now,” you said, turning to Scarlett. She smiled and handed you a whiteboard pen. You thought for a moment then began drawing.

You pressed down on Scarlett’s outfit to make sure you could draw properly. You ran the pen down her stomach and she giggled.

“Hey, careful, that tickles,” she said. You blushed and apologised but continued. Everytime the pen went over a certain spot Scarlett would giggle but she never flinched.

“Okay, I’m done,” you announced. Everyone leaned forward and groaned once they saw it.

“Really? You know none of us can say that,” Seb said.

“First one to say it correctly wins,” you shrugged. You had drawn Mjolnir, something that everyone struggled to say.

“Midge-oh-lair,” said Liz.

“Mjohn-ler,” said Seb.

“Me-joln-ier,” said Evans.

“Hey! It’s Mjolnir!” came a voice from the door. Hemsy had just walked in with Mackie, little Tom and big Tom.

“We have a winner,” you grinned and everyone groaned again.

“Okay now I wanna play snakes and ladders,” you said. You scrambled to your feet and launched yourself at Hemsy, climbing up his tall body and clinging to him like a koala. He laughed.

“Okay, and what do we do now?” He chuckled. You shrugged and hugged him tighter, he returned the favour.

“As nice as this is, princess, I can’t carry you around the rest of the evening,” Hemsy said.

“Alright, hang on. Gotta complete the game,” you said. You motioned big Tom to come nearer and leaned over to hug him. Your legs followed and wrapped around his waist before you slid down his body and landed on the floor. Tom laughed.

“Impressive,” he said. You lay flat at the floor and looked at him, giggling.

“You’re very playful today,” big Tom said.

“I’m just happy to be here,” you giggled, he smiled at you.

“Alright my turn, I wanna play twister,” Mackie said, launching himself at you.

“WAIT!” You cried, panicked by his sudden movement. Mackie didn’t listen.

“I’m not doing anything! I need someone to give me an instruction,” he said.

“Right foot red,” Seb said. Mackie lifted his foot and put it on the first red spot he could see, directly on your tummy. You giggled as he adjusted his foot, rubbing it against your tummy.

“Noho Anthony!”

He looked and realised what he was doing, then smirked and vibrated his foot on your tummy again. You giggled louder.

“The twister mat is making noises, how do I turn it off?” He asked.

“Um, try putting your left hand on yellow,” little Tom piped up. Mackie grinned as he spotted a yellow spot on your ribs. He put his hand down and gave them an “accidental” squeeze.

“Hehey!” You shrieked.

“Didn’t work Holland, anyone else?” Mackie said.

“Try right hand green,” Scar said, smirking. Mackie placed his right hand on the green spot on your side and squeezed again.

“Stohop!” You cried.

“Right well that didn’t work, and I can’t put my left foot on it otherwise I would break it. Any other ideas?” he said.

“You may have to push a few buttons, try turning it off and on again,” Paul said. Mackie squeezed your ribs and sides again and shook his foot on your tummy. You screeched loudly.

“Nope, still making noises,”

“Let me have a look,” Liz said. Mackie had you pinned below his hands and foot. You started to giggle as you felt a single finger run up your neck.

“Nonono Lizzie!” You squeaked as she dragged a nail up the other side.

“There must be an off button around here,” she teased. She gently scribbled all her nails into your neck. You scrunched up your shoulders and shrieked.

“NOHOHOHO!”

“Definitely not here, you sure it’s not there Mackie?” Lizzie asked. Mackie squeezed your ribs and sides again and your giggles turned to laughter.

“Nope, no no, that’s made it worse,” he said. “Someone try a blue spot!”

Evans jumped up and ran over to help. He found a blue spot right on your hip, he placed his hand over it and started squeezing.

“NAHAHAHAHAHA!” You screamed. Trying to buck your body was impossible with Mackie still pinning you.

“Dammit Evans you turned the volume up!” Mackie yelled.

“Maybe the problem lies outside of the mat itself,” big Tom piped up.

“What you saying Hiddleston? That we’re the problem?” Mackie asked.

“Not at all, just that there appears to be parts connected to the mat, but not part of the mat itself,” Tom said, putting his hand on his chin. He slowly approached you and swiped a single finger under your knee. You kicked it away.

“Now it’s malfunctioning,” Mackie informed him. Tom hummed and swiped a finger under your other knee. You kicked again. He then spider tickled under both your knees and you shrieked loudly.

“PLEHEHEASE I’M NOHOT BROKEN!” You screamed.

“God DAMN you made it talk!” Mackie yelled.

“I know what the issue is,” Robert said, stepping forward.

“Do go on?” big Tom said.

“You need to hit all the pressure points at once. It’s like a giant reset button, wear it down till it reboots itself,” he said. Everyone looked at each other.

“Position yourselves,” Robert instructed.

Mackie stepped off of your stomach and knelt by your left side, Seb knelt by your right. Lizzie was still up by your neck and big Tom by your knees. Scarlett was by your right shoulder, Paul by your left. Evans positioned himself by your hips, little Tom the other side by your thighs. Hemsworth and Robert sat next to your feet.

“Nonononono please!” You cried.

“Rebooting systems in 3…” Robert began.

“No please!”

“2…”

“Wait!”

“1…”

“No wait I’m not brOHOHOHOKEN!” You cried as everyone attacked you at once. No one was pinning you down but you could hardly twist and turn with 10 people tickling all your spots at once. They were all ruthless and yet...you sort of loved it.

“PLEHEHEHASE NOHOHOHO!” You cried, flailing your arms around. Mackie and Seb were squeezing up and down your sides and across your tummy, Lizzie was tickling deep into your neck, Scar and Paul had just caught an arm each and pinned it upwards so they could tickle your underarms, big Tom was scratching under your knees and squeezing the tops, Evans was squeezing and scribbling into your hips, little Tom was scratching up and down your thighs and Hemsy and Robert had grabbed a foot each to tickle. It was pure torture.

“KEEP GOING, IT’LL WEAR DOWN EVENTUALLY!” Robert yelled over your screams of laughter. Everyone picked up the speed and you screamed louder than ever before.

You now had your arms and legs pinned by Scar, Paul, Robert and Hemsworth so you tried to buck your hips as much as possible and scrunch up your shoulders to protect your neck but it was no use.

“NOHOHOHO MOHOHORE!” You cried. You let out another loud scream and fell into a silent laughter. Tears filled your eyes to the point where you couldn’t even see Lizzie kneeling over you.

“Reboot complete,” Robert instructed. He stopped tickling your foot and one by one the rest of the cast followed and ceased their attack. You lay there, taking in deep breaths of air.

“You alright twisty?” Mackie asked, sliding up to your head. You nodded, letting out residue giggles. Evans gave you a hand up and propped you up against the sofa.

“You...are...all...evil…” you breathed out. Everyone chuckled.

“You were in a playful mood, we wanted to join,” Evans said, winking at you.

“I never knew you were so ticklish,” Hemsworth said.

“So would you be if 10 people ganged up on you,” you replied. He laughed and nodded in agreement. Little Tom sat down next to you.

“You okay?” He asked, pulling you in for a hug. You nodded.

“Yeah...that was fun,” you clamped your mouth shut after realising what you just said.

“Fun eh?” little Tom teased, quickly spidering your side to make you giggle again.

“We had fun too if that’s any consolation? Could go for round two if you want,” big Tom said. You looked at him and smiled.

“Not today I don’t think, you guys well and truly broke me,” you said, everyone laughed.

“I think I’ve already decided on the theme for next year,” Robert said. Everyone turned to him.

“Tickle Me Y/N,” he said, “where everyone has to bring a random object to tickle Y/N with. First to make her say stop wins.” He winked at you and you blushed and hid your head in little Tom’s shoulder. He chuckled and stroked your head.

“Now that will be a fun theme,” Mackie replied.

[leafs-lover]

If he's lucky I'll let him join

Part 8: Everything's changed

Series Masterlist

A/N: The ending is finally here, don’t hate me too much!

Warnings: Swearing, angst (I think that’s it)

Word Count: 2000

“I uh-“ you bring a hand up to wipe away a stray tear. “I gotta go,” you whisper. Pulling away you practically run to the door.

“He doesn’t want you,” he calls out as you reach the door. Letting go of the handle you turn around, Auston still in the middle of the living room, the exact spot you left him. “You’re going to see him? Fred?” he queries, sensing your next move. Your face contorts and you take a deep breath preparing for his next words.

“I know him, he’s not interested like that, not anymore,” Auston says lightly.

Anymore.

That word stings. When did Fred stop losing interest? Was it when you had the first threesome, or the second? When did he stop wanting you, and how didn’t you notice?

“You’re wrong,” you say yanking the door open and heading down the hall. He is wrong, it has to be. Needs to be.

“Hey,” Fred says opening the door. The smile on his face falls when he sees the devastation written all over yours. “What’s wrong?” he asks, knowing you are more upset than a few hours ago.

He attempts to pull you into his chest but you throw his arms down, stepping around him into his apartment. “Y/N, what happened?” he asks concerned. The large metal door slams shut, the sound echoes through you, the hairs on the nap of your neck standing upright.

“Do you like me?” you ask bluntly.

“Of course I do y/n,” he laughs in disbelief. “I wouldn’t hang out with you if I didn’t.”

“No, but do you like me?” you repeat. “Do you see a future for us? Or am I just an easy lay?”

“You’re not just an easy lay,” he says somewhat disheartened. “You’re a great girl, I love spending time with you.”

That’s not the answer you wanted to hear. That is the answer you have given men before, men have given to you. Normally it’s followed up by some cliché bullshit, “it’s not you it’s me,” or, “I think we’re better off as friends.” It’s the kind of statement used to soften the blow, though it never does.

Sensing there is more you probe him, “but?”

“I just don’t see this being more than what it is,” he shifts awkwardly on his feet, running his hand through his long red hair. With hairdressers and barbershops closed and playoffs approaching, Fred along with a few other players have been growing their hair out. It’s now about an inch and half longer than you have ever seen it before. “I don’t see it…not anymore.”

There it is, that word again. The word that implies you had a future, a potential, but it has been ripped from you. Worse part is you didn’t even know it happened.

“When?” you demand, fighting back your tears. You hear his door gently open, Fred’s eyes snapping up to meet the sound before falling back to you.

“Let’s sit y/n,” he offers. Reaching out for your hand you shake him off.

“No, just answer my question," you plead.

"Y/N," he sighs, eyes flickering over your face.

"When?" You're tone is getting louder, your frustration with the situation, and his inability to explain his feelings, bubbling up. "When did you stop seeing something with me?”

“When you two fucked,” he blurts out, his eyes shifting between you and Auston. “Finding out you two were spending time together, together, just the two of you. I just…I can’t get past it.”

“But it –“

“No, you can’t say it was just sex, or nothing serious y/n, you can’t,” he sighs. Taking a few seconds to compose himself, he continues, “I saw how you both looked at each other at parties last year. I noticed how his breath would catch in his throat when you’d walk in, or how your eyes lingered a little too long on him. It sucked,” he says. His eyes drop to the floor momentarily as if looking at you suddenly hurts, but he finally musters up the courage to meet your gaze once more. Straight faced, Fred’s eyes bore into you with a fear— a vulnerability you’ve never seen before.

“But coming back this season I didn’t really have expectations on us. We hadn’t seen each other much since last March really, we talked a bit but that was it. I didn’t know if we’d kind of pick up where we left off or if it would just be sex. And in the beginning it was just sex, that’s why it didn’t matter when he’d be there too,” he eyes to Auston who is leaning against the door, silently watching the exchange.

“At some point it changed for me and I started to get the idea it did for you too,” his eyes are full of sorrow as they stare at you. “So I ignored the lingering glances when we’d watch movies, or how when we’d make dinner he’d pull you aside for a kiss. I thought it was just a part of the threesomes, and that when he left it was us. Just you and me,” his voice breaks while he fights through the pain.

“I thought you’re mind was solely with me and none of that mattered. Maybe I was in denial, or too blind to see it…But once I found out you two were fucking, that’s when I knew it wasn’t in my head. Some part of you was with him, even if you couldn’t admit it. And honestly if it was anyone else I probably wouldn’t care, but knowing it’s someone you look at that way, I just….no y/n I don’t see a relationship with you, not anymore.”

“I…I’m sorry,” you whine. Frustrated tears trickle down your cheeks as you pull the edge of your hood over your head, wanting to hide your weakness from the room as if somehow it’s judging you.

You have spent the past couple weeks trying to process your feelings for both men, trying to separate them. It’s not an easy task given how you spend so much time with both of them. Internally you have gone back and forth between the two, and you thought it would become glaringly obvious which way you were leaning. Which man your heart was leaning towards.

Hearing Fred, hearing how he doesn’t want you, you realize just how much you want him. How much it is him you want to be with. You realized you never wanted someone as much as you ache for Fred, and it tears you open from the inside out knowing he doesn’t feel the same in return.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he steps forward wrapping his arms around you. “You were allowed to sleep with anybody you wanted, we never talked about it, and we probably should have. Or once I started to feel differently I definitely should have, but you don’t have to apologize, you did nothing wrong.”

That burns. How could you have done nothing wrong, yet you are losing him? If you did nothing wrong he should be yours. Things don’t end if everything goes well.

“Okay,” you croak out, barely managing to find your voice.

He holds you, and for a minute you feel safe. Almost as if the thing you’ve wanted for a year and a half isn’t shattering into a million pieces around you. It almost feels right, you almost feel safe. Your tears scorch your cheeks but pale in comparison to the hollowness in your heart.

He doesn’t let you go, not until you are ready. His heart against your ear calms you down. Each time it thuds, you cry a little less, until finally you have no more tears to shed. Sensing your easing grip on his shirt, he pulls back and places a soft kiss on your forehead. “You two should talk,” he breathes lightly.

Releasing you, he walks away leaving you with Auston. Turning slightly you see him leaning against the wall, having watched the entire exchange. Your eyes sting from the tears but you can still see the despair written on his face.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

How can he ask you that? Right here and now? He can tell you are crushed by losing Fred, how can he expect you to be so willing to carry on with him as if nothing happened? You’re furious— the pulsating devastation inside your chest borderline unbearable. How you’re still standing is a mystery.

Your voice is barely a whisper as you admit, “I don’t know how to give you what you need.”

“I’m not asking for you to, not today,” he steps forward causing you shoulders to stiffen. “I get your in pain right now, but I’m still here. I want to be here. Whether it’s a week, a month, 3 months. I want to be here, with you,” he smiles at you. “I want you.”

“I…I can’t,” you barely manage a whisper. Gulping you feel tears building behind your eyes. “I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

You catch a nerve. His eyes turn dark as the muscles begin clenching in his jaw, and he suddenly starts rubbing his hands across his stubble. A nervous tick. He always does that when he’s uncomfortable. Pushing past him you reach for the handle when one of his hands grasps your arm. His grip is tight, likely going to leave marks but he doesn’t care. Leaning down his voice is hollow, “you leave y/n and that’s it. The minute you walk out that door, that’s it.”

His eyes narrow at you, waiting for your response, when you don’t, he suddenly lets go of your bicep. “Auston, I-“

“Are you saying no to now, or no to forever?” he asks. Staring up at him you know he knows the answer, the pain in his eyes tugging on your compassion. You’re relationship with Auston was mostly based on sex, but when you actually sat down and talked to him, confided in him your worries and fears, he listened. He consoled you, comforted you, made you laugh to keep you distracted, but it just isn’t enough.

Fred has always had a piece of your heart, a big piece. It wasn’t until you heard Auston admit his feelings, making summer plans, that you realized he wasn’t the person you wants those plans with. But Fred doesn’t want you, you can’t just forget about the mark he left and move on with Auston. Your heart doesn’t belong to Auston, it belongs to the person who doesn’t want it. You just wish it didn’t take you so long to notice.

“You’ll make some girl really happy one day,” you sniffle wiping away the tears from your eyes.

It’s true, Auston is a great guy, an amazing guy. The blow of losing Fred would only be masked if you had Auston to curl up with at night. He could bandage you up, pick up the pieces. Only problem is he won’t find all the pieces. Or maybe he would one day, but it’s not fair to him to stand by waiting to see what person comes out the other side. And once you do come out, would you still want Auston? Or would his purpose be served now that you were whole?

It’s not fair to string him along, especially if you don’t know if your heart will be his in the end. Everything is going to hurt like hell tomorrow, that much you were sure of, but in the long run, this is for the best. Turning away you grab the handle. This time he doesn’t stop you, this time you walk out the door, and out of both their lives for good.

[whereisten]

Dinner for Two

A Yuta fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: A dinner at the high-end Osaka Moon leads you to the head chef and owner, Nakamoto Yuta.

Pairing: Chef! Yuta x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, smut, fluff, mystery, suspense, drama, crime, HORROR

Word Count: 7.8k 

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drug abuse, verbal abuse, mention of sexual assault, infidelity mention, deaths, and big, uncomfortable twist (the ending is not for the faint of heart, I’m warning you).

(A/N): Hiya! Well, this is probably the most disturbing thing I’ve ever written. Hope you enjoy! Haha actually, this story was inspired by Yuta’s iconic tweet: “I will eat you”. Well, if that’s not a spoiler...Thank you so much for waiting. I apologize for the delay! Please come back later tonight for another spooky tale...Also, my apologies, I didn’t get a chance to proofread. I appreciate your patience. :D 

_______

Life had dealt you some harsh blows but you found happiness wherever you could. Your management position at the vinyl store Neo Records gave you prime access to the best music in the world. Even if the employee discount was trash. You’d worked at the records store for a few months now. This followed you having moved out of your mom’s place. You’d lived with her and your beloved stepfather while you attended college but you’d had enough.

Your mom was a drug addict and her husband Scott only enabled her to continue her abuse. You couldn’t say anything to them because you were the child and they were the adults.

And, as they had always thrown in your face, they paid for a good amount of your tuition because financial aid and scholarships could only do so much for you.

Well, you’re twenty four now and still a child in their eyes. You couldn’t take your mother’s mood swings and Scott’s goading for her to thrash around and party all the time. If your mother wasn’t going to get therapy and refused your help, then you decided to leave.

You had a really good relationship with your dad. You’d wished you had gone to live with him but during your college years, he’d only made enough to send you some funds for your tuition. You appreciated what he could do for you.

However, now he was more financially stable and he wanted to support you so you could move out of your mother’s house. You’d live in an apartment not too far from your dad’s place so you could visit him as much as you’d like. It drove your mom crazy. She always tried to contact you and convince you that she was going to get help. It was a tale as old as time. She said she would get help but never did anything about it. Once she had you under her finger, she reverted back to her ways: skipping work shifts, neglecting household chores, and verbally abusing you. You simply texted her you were busy with work.

Your boyfriend Johnny has been a source of comfort for you over the past year. You’d met him at a club one night with your friends. You told him you didn’t want to go home that night and asked him if you could stay over. Looking back on it, you had been too trusting but Johnny had treated you kindly: he let you take his bed while he slept on the couch. He made you breakfast in the morning: banana pancakes and scrambled eggs. You had sex with him the morning after and you’d been inseparable ever since.

These past few weeks, Johnny had been busier at his new job at a marketing firm. You two were supposed to have a date night tonight but he cancelled two hours before you were to meet at Hal’s Pizzeria for dinner. After that, you were supposed to go to the movies together. You were always a big fan of the dinner and movie date.

You sat on the couch in your living room, feeling a little blue that Johnny was working overtime. So you scrolled through your phone while you watched episodes of an English-dubbed anime about volleyball.

You texted your best friend Carla about how Johnny cancelled at the last minute and she replied: Since you don’t have plans, then I have an opportunity for you.

You texted back, What’s up?

She replied, I had a reservation at Osaka Moon for tonight but I got called in for work. Wanna go? The owner is supposed to be hot as fuck.

You replied, Okay, want me to get his number for you?

She texted, Unnecessary. Thanks, y/n. We’ll go together next time.

_______

Osaka Moon was a high-end restaurant all your friends told you about. You decided to go on your own to the restaurant and have a date night with yourself. Being alone could be tranquil, you assured yourself. And you didn’t have to worry about looking so graceful as you ate so this could be great.

You dolled yourself up in a pale pink dress and some white wedges. It was an understated but elegant look. It was an expensive restaurant so you decided to go all out. You entered the Japanese restaurant and gave the hostess your friend’s name. She immediately sat you down at a table that overlooked the bay. It was a spectacular view. No wonder Carla didn’t want this reservation to go to waste.

It was a shame Johnny couldn’t be here with you right now. This place was so romantic. There were indoor fountains with koi fish swimming around. The ceiling was painted in shades of the sunset with birds flying through the clouds. The aroma of grilled meat and vegetables made you salivate.

A waiter took your order and you took out your phone to take pictures of the restaurant and the view. You wondered if you would catch a glimpse of the chef your friend had mentioned.

As you move your camera around the restaurant to get a wider shot of the place, you recognize someone through your phone. Johnny’s hair was slicked back and he was wearing your favorite suit of his: navy blue with a ruby red colored tie. His height made him stick out like a sore thumb. The sight before you made you wish he’d be a little taller so his head could hit the ceiling. For the sight left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Johnny had arrived at Osaka Moon with another woman. She was generically pretty and you hated her even more. She looked like the mean blonde girl of every early 2000s romantic comedy. She wore a revealing dress that exposed her cleavage very nicely. Why were you paying so much attention to her cleavage? Because of the necklace around her neck: a necklace that looked identical to the one Johnny gifted you last year. It was a rose gold pendant with a rose at the center. Johnny kissed the woman’s lips as he sat her down at the table. She placed her hands against his slimy face.

Son of a-

Hot tears started rushing down your face. You were sure your mascara was running. You gripped your glass of wine tightly. You were surprised you didn’t break the glass then and there.

First off, you went to the restroom and checked your makeup. A little mascara had run down your cheeks. You fixed your makeup and took a few deep breaths. You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were red. What were you going to do now? There was a chance he’d see you and you didn’t want to see the stupid look on his face when he realized he’d been found out.

And you didn’t want to imagine what other reaction he could have. All of this happening in such an extravagant place made you seethe.

Johnny made a fool out of you and his infidelity carved a hole so deeply into your heart, you wanted to scream. So you took a few more minutes to collect yourself. You imagined your entree would be out soon enough anyway. You quickly realized what you needed to do.

You made a beeline for the entrance of the restaurant and approached the first staff member you saw. He was a slender and striking young man. His long brown hair was tied up in a bun. His chiseled face made everyone’s heads turn. His heart shaped lips were perfect. And…

Why were you thinking all of these things when you’d just been cheated on?

Wait a second…

Why couldn’t you think this way? As of ten minutes ago, your relationship with Johnny was over.

The handsome man was talking to one of the hostesses. The hostess was biting her lips and making googly eyes at him. This was awkward but you were resolved to ask him for help.

You tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Excuse me.”

He turned around and eye contact with him nearly sent you into the stratosphere. His eyes were the deepest brown and when he looked at you, you felt like you were his world.

His eyes were that intense.

“How can I help you?” He smiled, his perfect set of teeth greeted you.

“Hi...Um, what’s your name?” You start, awkward at the start.

He smiled even wider, “Yuta, miss. And yours?”

“I’m y/n. Can I make a special request?”

You didn’t know it then but Yuta watched you enter the restaurant earlier. He was stunned by your beauty and your smile. You looked like a princess as you entered his castle. He saw the wonderstruck look on your face as you were led to your table. He’d never seen someone so happy to enter his restaurant. The young man before you was the owner of Osaka Moon: Nakamoto Yuta.

So for you to come up to him and ask him for a favor? He was more than happy to oblige.

Yuta noticed how red your eyes looked and was concerned. He wondered what transpired when he had to go check on the kitchen staff and couldn’t keep admiring you.

Although your eyes had been red, there was determination in them, he noted.

“Of course,” he said as you moved closer to him and whispered in his ear, making you both a little hot and bothered instantly. You both felt a spark from the moment you met eyes.

Snap out of it, you told yourself. He was very attractive, yes, but your heart had been ripped out of your chest. You wanted revenge. You had to remember why you were talking to this fine man in the first place.

_______

You sat back at your table, undetected by the clusterfuck of a man you used to call your boyfriend. You made sure to focus on your meal, which had been orgasmic. The dish was called Okonomiyaki, a pancake with sliced pork belly and cabbage. The okonomiyaki sauce, Japanese mayonnaise, and dried bonito shavings sealed this dish as one of the best meals you’d ever had. Your compliments to the chef, whoever they were.

You realized it was go-time when the handsome staff member brought the food out for Johnny and his date. All eyes were on the young man who said he would help you. You wondered why. Has your plan been found out?

The young man deposited the dishes to Johnny’s table. His radiant smile never slipped from his face. Incredible, you thought. After what you told him about Johnny, he looked like he was about to pounce on him right then. Even so, he looked attentively at you and accepted your request.

“Here you are,” Yuta said as he put down the plates of sushi in front of Johnny and Blondie. “And a special treat from our chef…”

Johnny and his date oohed and ahhed over their plates. Until the young man deposited a plate that had sauce spelling “Cheater, Liar, Bastard” on it.

“This dish is for you, sir. Have a pleasant evening with Girlfriend Number Two, you son of a bitch.” Yuta gritted his teeth at Johnny. The expression on Yuta’s face then both terrified and aroused you.

Humiliating your cheating boyfriend and standing up for you...It brought a smile to your face.

Even if you still wanted to cry.

Johnny glared up at Yuta, “What the hell is-” He then does what he never does and THINKS. He panics and scans the restaurant, looking for you. He finds you seated at your table. You raise your glass at him as you take a sip of your wine. You flip the bird at him in the process.

He stands up from his table and runs over to your table. “Y/n…”

The other woman is right behind Johnny and  simply laughs. “This is her? From the way you talked about her, I expected a real threat...but it’s nice to see that I have nothing to worry about.”

So she knew? She was in on this? You mimicked the blonde’s laugh. “Oh, fuck off...both of you…How long have been together?”

“Three months,” the blonde smirked.

That hurt. A lot. Johnny must’ve started seeing Blondie around the time you’d celebrated your one year anniversary with him.

You guessed one year was his expiration date for relationships.

“Go…” You started. “Have a nice blissful year together. In nine months or so, he’ll find someone shiny and new..”

Johnny was at a loss for words. “Y/n, I am so-”

“Are you sorry?” You rolled your eyes. “Go to hell, Johnny!” You couldn’t hold back anymore as the tears came out.

Yuta came up behind Johnny and his date. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“How dare you?” Blondie asked. “I want to speak to your manager-”

Yuta crossed his arms as his lips quirked up. “You’re looking at him.”

The three of you stared at him with your jaws to the floor. This was news to you. You’d ask the restaurant owner for a favor? The audacity you had…

Your face heated up in embarrassment.

Yuta called over a few security guards to escort Johnny and his date out. Johnny couldn’t even look at you. A fucking coward. His other girl had more balls than he did.

Yuta put a hand on your shoulder and leaned down to speak to you. “Are you okay?” His anger dissipated at the sight of your tears.

You sniffled. “Yeah...Thank you...I-I’m so sorry for bothering you...I didn’t know you were the owner of this place…”

He squeezed your shoulder. ��I was happy to help…”

You laughed. “You scared the crap out of me when you called him a son of a bitch.”

He played around with you. “Ah, you liked that? I’ve been working on my crime lord act...How do you think it’s coming along?”

You wiped your tears with your napkin. “Pretty good.”

You both laughed.

“Well, y/n...I hope you have a wonderful rest of the night.” He tipped his imaginary hat and walked away.

As you finished your meal, your waiter brought you a bowl of green tea mochi ice cream.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you started.

The waiter replied, “Courtesy of the boss, miss. Please let us know if there is anything else you would like. Your meal is on the house.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked in shock.

The waiter smiled. “Just following the boss’ orders.”

This night may have begun on a sour note but at least you could end it at this incredible place. And you were pretty sure you’d met a real life knight in shining armor tonight...

Before you left the restaurant, the hostess, annoyed, handed you an envelope. “Here.”

“What is it?” You furrowed your brows in confusion.

The hostess sighed. “The golden ticket. Have a good night, miss.” She returned to her stand with her coworkers.

You walked out the door and left Osaka Moon. You opened the envelope and found a handwritten letter.

y/n,

I’ll be upfront with you. I wanted to ask you out the minute you walked into Osaka Moon. But then I found out you had a boyfriend. And right after that, I found out he was a cheating piece of shit...So I’m at a crossroads here...Can I see you again? If yes, please call me at 555-127-1026.

Yours,

Yuta

P.S. The green tea mochi was good, wasn’t it?

_______

A week had passed. You and Yuta have been texting non-stop. He invited you to his restaurant to have dinner. The beef tenderloin he’d served you was out of this world. He made you laugh and shamelessly flirted with you the whole time. You told Yuta you weren’t ready to date so soon. You didn’t want him to be a rebound. You knew that once your heart mended a little more, you’d want to ask Yuta out. He was more than willing to wait for you.

You two had a lot in common: same taste in food, same taste in music, same sense of humor, and you both believed in astrology. No one was as unapologetic about being a Scorpio as Yuta was.

You and Yuta would share meals together frequently. Sometimes outside of his restaurant. And right after, you two would go to the movies like you wanted.

Two months have passed. Finally a couple, you and Yuta have just left the cinema. You’d just watched a midnight showing of Paranormal Activity 7.

“That was amazing,” you started.

Yuta snorted. “You are too easy to please, y/n. That movie was terrible.”

You slapped him in the chest. “You’re so full of it.”

Yuta chuckled. “Nothing beats horror movies from Japan. Just you wait…” He wrapped his arm around you.

You looked up at him. “Is that a promise?”

He kissed the crown of your head. “You bet it is.”

_______

“It is week nine into the investigation of Johnny Suh’s disappearance. Johnny Suh is a twenty four year old marketing consultant. He hails from Chicago, Illinois…” The news anchor says on the television screen.

You and Yuta are cuddled on his couch in his penthouse suite, watching the news. You were shocked when you first heard that Johnny had gone missing over two months ago. Even though you’d hated him with every fiber of your being, your heart ached for his family. You hoped he would be okay.

Yuta drove to you to work that morning and told you he would pick you up when your shift ended. He planned to surprise you with a backyard screening of “Ring”, one of the most popular Japanese horror films of all time. He’d set up a projector in his backyard so you two could watch the movie under the stars.

When Yuta arrived to pick you up, he saw you run out of the record shop and run away in tears. He ran out of his car to meet you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” Yuta asked as he cupped your face in his hands and wiped tears away.

You sniffled. “Let’s go...Pl-please.”

Yuta was hesitant but he accepted as you definitely wanted to get the hell out of there.

The question on Yuta’s mind was...Why?

As he drove away from Neo Records, he asked, more softly, “What happened, y/n?”

“I quit,” you said.

Yuta nearly stopped the car so he could look at you. However, he couldn’t because the traffic was quite unpredictable so he couldn’t turn to face you. “What? Why?”

“I...I don’t...He...Uh…” You hiccuped between your tears.

Yuta gripped the steering wheel at the sound of “he”. “Who? Y/n, did someone do something to you?”

You were worried about how Yuta might react when you told him about how your boss, Mr. Fox, groped you during your lunch break. Mr. Fox had always been too friendly with female staff but you never thought he would cross the line. Until today.

“Mr. Fox touched...me…” You managed to say. You shut your eyes, awaiting the wrath of the Scorpio beside you.

Yuta was about to rip the steering wheel out of the car. “He did what?”

“He touched me, Yuta...And I...I didn’t know what to do...I don’t have proof...So I quit. I can’t be in the same room as him anymore…”

Yuta was furious. To see the woman he loved broken and helpless. You were his everything and you deserve nothing but the best the world had to offer. And to see you get treated like this? He wanted to beat the shit out of Mr. Fox. He wanted to see him cry and beg for mercy.

He didn’t want to frighten you with his anger because you were already shaken up as is so he turned into a store plaza parking lot and put the car in park. He turned to you and asked you, “Can I hold you?”

You nodded, “Y-yes…”

Yuta backed the driver seat up so you could crawl into his arms. He held you as you cried. His heart ached for you and he wondered what he could do to get you justice.

You were so thankful to Yuta. You knew he would be so upset once you told him. Your heart felt so reassured to see how passionate he was about you. He made you feel like you were his world. And you felt much better knowing that you had him by your side.

_______

A week had passed by after you quit your job at Neo Records. You couldn’t afford to pay your half of the rent so Yuta offered for you to move in. You were thrilled at the idea. You and Yuta were living like blissful newlyweds.

You were washing the dishes after you two had eaten some imported steak that Yuta had wanted to try out. It was incredible. Everything Yuta prepared for you was literal sex in your mouth.

As you stretched your neck to the left, Yuta wrapped his arms around you and nibbled on your neck. “y/n, you smell like raspberries…”

You froze and dropped the dish you’d been scrubbing into the soapy water.

Yuta turned you around quickly and pulled your cleaning gloves off of your hands and tossed them aside. He picked you up and sat you on the kitchen island.

“I love that you’re here with me…” He whispered.

The hooded look in his eyes made your panties soak. He lifted the skirt of your dress up like nothing. He sunk his teeth into the fabric of your panties and pulled them down, never losing eye contact with you. You loved how primal he got with you. He always left you with love bites. He always seemed to find new places to leave them so you can find them during a random part of your day and think of him.

“I wonder if your pussy tastes like raspberries, y/n...Shall we find out?” Yuta asks as he looks up at you. He was on his knees, looking like he was praying to his goddess.

You nodded fervently as you pulled your dress off over your head, only in your bra now. “Yes…”

He unclasped your bra so your breasts were exposed to the cold air in the kitchen. Your nipples were already hard at Yuta’s initial touch. He got up off his knees and began sucking at one nipple and rubbing the others. He bit your nipple and you cried out.

You grabbed at his growing member and he grunted. You unbuttoned his pants so his aching member could be free. You squeezed it harder and began rubbing up and down. Traces of precum coated your fingers. You worked harder to get him riled up. When he felt himself build up, you stopped and he looked up at you through needy eyes.

You kept going until he climaxed onto your arm. You licked his cum off of your arm slowly and it made his cock harder. He met you halfway and lathered up his juices. He loved the taste of his seed on you.

Yuta catered to your pussy which ached for his touch. His hot breath greeted your entrance before he inserted two fingers inside you. He coated his fingers in your growing essence. You adorned him with kisses and love bites. You bit behind his ear and he moaned at your velvet touch.

He laid you down on top of the kitchen island, throwing everything off of the table with a quick swipe of his arm. He straddled himself on top of you. He proceeded to give your entrance some kitten licks, enjoying when he teased you most of all. You got all bratty and needy and it always drove him up a wall.

“Yuta...please hurry,” you begged.

He tsked. “Good things come to those who wait, darling.”

At the sound of “darling”, you got even wetter.

He chuckled as he licked your folds and played around with your sweet spot. Never quite making contact and making you delirious with need. You gripped his hair, trying to maneuver him to hit your sweet spot already.

“You better not cum until I say so, y/n...Or else I’m going to get very angry…” Yuta said with a mischievous smile on his face.

Yuta underestimated his touch, you thought. The man was literal sex on two feet. You came quickly at the contact he’d made with your pussy.

He frowned at you, “My dear little slut, you’ve disobeyed me.”

You sighed blissfully. “You make me want to break the rules, Yuta.”

He laughed. “So I’m to blame for your disobedience, huh?”

You grabbed his face and kissed him, your tongue playing around with his. You kissed his neck and left marks against his collarbone as he teased his cock against your entrance.

He entered you now and you felt close to completion. He thrusted against you and you joined him. The slapping of skin against skin and your moans echoed throughout the penthouse. You were thankful there were no next door neighbors. You liked the feeling of this floor being just the two of you.

Alone with Yuta, you felt like the center of his universe. You felt like a queen. That no one else mattered quite like you did. Yuta always made you feel like the most important person in the world.

You felt the need to climax come back quickly but just as you wished for your release against Yuta’s member, he removed himself and pecked your lips.

Between your thighs, he gave you a dark stare. “I don’t know if you should cum again, sweets.”

You drooled. “Please…”

Yuta teased. “What was that?”

“Please,” you full on begged as you started to touch yourself. “I need you or else I’m going to finish the job.”

He gasped and laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

You coated your fingers in your essence and popped your index finger into Yuta’s mouth. He sucked hard.

“How do I taste?” You asked.

Yuta didn’t let go of your finger and bit lightly against it to tease you further.

You sighed. “Well, if you don’t want to fuck me properly, then I can’t force you. I’ll finish off in the shower.” You got up off the kitchen counter and nearly lost your balance. You were already weak in the knees.

Yuta fought back a laugh. “I’d like to see you make it to the shower, jello legs.”

You gave up and laid on the floor, giving him a nice angle of your naked body. You stretched out and started teasing your own entrance, imagining Yuta was building you up again. And having him watch from above on the kitchen counter, you felt yourself grow even hotter.

Yuta got up off of the counter and straddled you again. Without warning, he entered you and went hard. Tears streamed from your eyes as you climaxed quickly. Yuta continued you to thrust against your pelvis until he came quickly after.

Yuta took you into the shower where you would continue to fuck and he gave you new love bites. This time, they were on your ankles.

_______

A month had passed and you’d taken over as manager of Neo Records. Mr. Fox had fallen off the face of the earth and was reported missing. It was odd. Another man who attempted to ruin your life had disappeared. You thought it was karmic justice but deep down, it bothered you.

Your mother once again resurfaced after months of radio silence. She wanted to invite you and your new boyfriend (who she was very upset not to have heard about before) over for dinner. Scott and his kids from his previous marriage would be there. You hated them, too. They were a bunch of enabling brats that were after their daddy’s money.

You couldn’t say no to your mother, especially after she found out about Yuta from your dad. It wounded her pride that your dad knew something she didn’t. Your dad felt horrible for letting it slip in conversation with her. He couldn’t dodge her phone calls. He always tried to pacify her and talk to her when she called. So he couldn’t help but mention Yuta.

You didn’t want Yuta to know about your mother and her side of the family, for it brought about deep shame, regret, and painful memories.

But this time, you couldn’t run away.

You and Yuta went over to your mother’s lavish home, your old home for seven years. Scott married your mom when you were a senior in high school. Scott came from old money but he never worked a day in his life. The undeserving ass wipe, he was.

Your mother pretended to be the picture of domesticity as she cooked her once-in-a-decade dish of lasagna. You loved it, you hated to admit it now. You begged her to make it so many times when you were a kid. She always said she would but would always get distracted. Distracted with her new boyfriends or paying a debt. Sometimes you were truly on your own even if your mom had been physically beside you.

You and Yuta sat at the table with Scott and his kids. They prodded Yuta with questions about his ethnicity, his restaurant, his political beliefs, basically everything you can think of that would make anyone’s significant other runs for the hills.

Yuta took it like a champ. He answered them as politely as possible and whenever the question was too offensive to get an answer, Yuta masterfully deflected.

Your mom brought out the lasagna and served everyone. She gave an extra helping for Yuta. “I hope you like it, Yuta.”

Yuta nodded. “Thank you, Ms. y/l/n.” He took a bite of it. “It’s delicious.”

Your mom smiled brightly and gave you a look of encouragement.

You forced a smile.

Your mom could tell you were faking it and her smile faded. “You still hate me, don’t you, y/n?”

Oh no, you thought, not here…

“I make this nice dinner for you and your perfect boyfriend...Who is clearly way out of your league...And you’re moping around like a sad, pathetic little bitch.”

“Mom, please stop-”

“You don’t tell me what to do! I am the parent. You are the child. Get that through your thick head. God knows what poison your father has been feeding you about me but he’s wrong. I’ve never been better,” she says as she downs her third glass of beer in the past thirty minute.  

She was already this inebriated so you imagined she drank before you arrived and drank more while she was cooking the lasagna.

You looked down at your lap and Yuta grabbed your hand. He squeezed it.

“Your mother has been coming with me to church, y/n,” Scott began, “She’s been conversing with the Lord and she’s been on the mend. Why can’t you see that?”

Your other hand that wasn’t holding Yuta’s had balled up into a fist.

Scott’s oldest daughter added, “Your mom’s amazing, y/n. She’s more of a mother to me than my actual mother is.”

That’s rich….Your mom always acted so sweetly with Scott’s kids to get on his good side. It was sickening. And to hear this bullshit come out of their mouth...You were about to reach your breaking point.

“Yuta, let’s go,” you said.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Scott asked.

“Anywhere but here,” you said, “Excuse us.”

“Y/n, if you leave, I will never talk to you again!” Your mom wailed as she gripped her glass tightly.

You snapped, “Well, mom, that just might be the nicest thing would ever do for me.”

Yuta started. “Y/n-”

“Go to hell!” Your mom yelled.

“I’ll meet you there!” You yelled back as you stormed with Yuta right behind you.

Back at your place, you hid in your bedroom while Yuta ordered some takeout. You laid your face down on Yuta’s pillow and smelled the scent of his shampoo mixed with his cologne on it. It gave you great comfort.

Yuta joined you and sat beside you on the bed. “The food will be here in half an hour.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled against the pillow.

Yuta sighed as he laid down next to you. “How are you?”

“Humiliated,” you answered.

“Y/n...I am so sorry…”

“Are you kidding? I’m sorry I took you with me in the first place...I...I could’ve kept you from all of that…”

“Your mother insisted, y/n. We had no choice.”

“Yup, that’s how it always is with her and fucking Scott. I fucking hate him. If it weren’t for his money and her obsession with him, she wouldn’t have gotten to this point, Yuta…”

Yuta rubbed your arm. “I know, y/n…”

You sighed. “I know there’s nothing I can do...It just sucks. I try not to let it get to me...Since it’s something I can’t control...But seeing my mom like that...It’s really fucking unfair.” You sob into your pillow.

In between your sobs, you said, “I wish Scott would go away...Somehow…”

Yuta hugged you as you cried. He wanted nothing more than to take your pain and suffering away.

_______

A month had passed since the disastrous dinner. Your mom was good with her word. She hadn’t contacted you or your dad. You’d told him about the falling out and he consoled you. He understood your pain more than anyone. He encouraged you to keep living your life and being happy with Yuta and so you did.

Yuta’s birthday was coming up so you wanted to surprise him. He told you he was meeting a client downtown so you got to work.

You wanted to take Yuta to all of his favorite places over town and you wanted to make scavenger hunt out of it. The clues would take Yuta to places that had to do with your relationship. It was a way of celebrating how much of an amazing boyfriend he’d been to you. The ultimate prize of the hunt would be a key...a hotel room key to the Lotus Hotel.

As you shopped for art supplies for your scavenger hunt one night, you’d noticed Yuta on his way somewhere. He had a couple of shopping bags with him.

You decided to follow him and catch him by surprise. However, Yuta was headed to a more abandoned part of town, where there were only warehouses.

You got behind a bunch of abandoned cars and watched Yuta make his way into a warehouse, where his car had already been parked. Half an hour passes and Yuta comes out of the door with bags stained red with blood.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. What the hell were those?

You noticed the shifty look in Yuta’s eyes and quickly, you grew scared. Terrified of being caught.

Calm down, you told yourself, it was probably meat for his restaurant. What else could it be? You felt incredibly stupid for spying on him like this. In fact, you felt ashamed.

You waited for Yuta to leave in his car. You crept into the warehouse and tried looking through the windows. You saw nothing but butchers’ paper and a basket of random items.

Except one thing stuck out to you. A gold Rolex. It was obnoxiously large that you could never forget about it.

It was Scott’s. It was one of a kind. He had it custom-made to be the only one in existence. And now it was just sitting there in a random warehouse…

But why? What was it doing in this warehouse that Yuta came out of?

Your stomach lurched at the uncertainty of it all. You needed to get the hell out of here so you ran off.

Not realizing you’d forgotten something.

_______

Yuta made you spaghetti and meatballs after work the next day. You’d been awfully quiet and he wanted to know why.

“Something bothering you, sweets?” He asked.

You played with your food and took a bite of one of the meatballs. Damn, it tasted good, you thought. It was savory and not like any other kind of beef you’ve tasted. You had to ask Yuta where he imported his meat from because there was nothing quite like it.

Still, you couldn’t look Yuta in the eyes.

“Y/n, look at me, please…” He started.

You forced yourself to look at him and just as you were about to speak, your phone rang.

You were shocked to see that it was your mom. You dreaded answering it but if it could deflect from the confrontation you were about to have with Yuta…

You answered, “Hello?”

“Y/n!” Your mom sobbed. “Scott is missing!”

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. “What?”

Your mom wailed. “I don’t know what to do, y/n! Have you seen him at all since you came to visit?”

Your mind immediately went to the gold Rolex at the warehouse. “No, mom, I haven’t seen him.”

Yuta watched you with curious eyes. You averted your gaze and got up from the table. “Mom, please calm down...The police will find him. That’s what they’re supposed to do.”

Your mom laughed. “When has the police ever done what they’re supposed to do?”

You sighed. “Mom, I’m so sorry...If there’s anything I can do…” You felt awkward for saying this because you absolutely hated Scott and part of you wanted to say good riddance...But you couldn’t. You couldn’t add salt to your mother’s wound.

You mom replied, “If you see or hear anything about Scott, call me. Please.”

“Okay,” you said, “Bye mom.”

Your mother hung up.

You turned back to Yuta, who watched you carefully from the table.

“Your food’s getting cold, y/n…” Yuta mused aloud.

“Right…” You said as you sat back down. You took another bite of the spaghetti and meatballs.

“What was that about?” Yuta asked, concerned.

“My mom called. Scott is missing…” You said as you looked down at your food.

“Oh? Well, that’s terrible,” Yuta said. He looked upset enough.

But you knew him. You sighed, “Yuta, you’re hiding something from me.”

His eyes widened. “Finally, I was waiting for you to say something. It’s been driving me crazy.”

“What?” You asked.

He pulled something out of his pants pocket and it was your charm bracelet. His birthday gift to you from last month...You’d completely forgotten about it. “You dropped this on the way home.”

Your mouth opened in shock.

“How long were you watching me for, y/n? It must’ve been troublesome to be hiding in the rubble across the street…”

You lost your appetite completely. “You knew?”

“I knew you were tailing me yesterday…” He said as he picked at your plate and took a bite of your food.

You started pathetically, “I wanted to surprise you…”

Yuta nodded. “But instead I surprised you…”

“Yuta, what was in those bags?” You asked. “And what were you doing with Scott’s watch?”

Yuta bit his lip and rubbed the back of his head. “Well...Since we’re this deep into the relationship, I think I should be completely honest with you, y/n.”

The look in Yuta’s eyes was something you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t playful. It was more...evil.

“Do you remember our first meal together, y/n? How savory it was? How it was unlike anything you’d ever tasted?”

You didn’t know where this was going but you responded anyway, “Y-yeah…”

“Did you ever stop to think if it was really beef tenderloin?” Yuta asked.

Your eyes widened. “N-no…”

“Come on, y/n. It’s me...You can be honest…”

“Was it veal?” You asked, grasping at straws.

Yuta shook his head and a smile was fighting to come onto his face. “Nope...I grounded him up real nicely for our first meal together…” He muttered that last part.

“Him?” You asked.

“But who else, y/n? Think.”

You and Yuta ate together for the first time after...Your breakup with Johnny.

“Yuta...What are you…” You began.

“I think I’ve made myself pretty clear.”

You laughed skeptically. “Yuta, I know you love to tease but be serious for a second…”

Yuta’s face darkened. “I am serious, y/n.”

You shook your head. “You mean to tell me...Y-you killed Johnny?”

Yuta nodded. “Why, yes...Slit the bastard’s tire before he left the restaurant. Followed him home. Made sure Girlfriend Number Two was going up to her apartment and I got him right where I wanted him…”

“Yuta…” You couldn’t believe what he was saying. This had to be some cruel joke. And the fact that he was being so specific with these details meant that he wasn’t lying.

“So, yes, y/n, I killed Johnny and I ground him up. No evidence of that bastard’s existence is left now…And do you want to know why?”

You cried. “Yuta, stop it.”

Yuta wiped the tears from your eyes. “Because we ate him. You and me, y/n…”

You gasped in horror. You sobbed as you backed away from Yuta. “You’re a fucking liar, Yuta. Stop it!”

Yuta sighed. “Why should I stop there? That scumbag, Mr. Fox? Remember the day we made the sweetest love in the kitchen? And we had ‘steak’?”

“Yuta, no!” You fell to the floor. “Stop it! I am begging you.”

“You need to know the truth, y/n…”

You shook your head. “You killed them...And you killed Scott.”

“Ding ding! We have a winner!” Yuta rejoiced.

“You’re crazy…” You cried out.

Yuta’s smile faded as quickly as it came. “Y/n, you don’t mean that. You love me. Just as I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment we met…”

You cried harder. “Yuta…”

Yuta got onto the floor with you. “I did it all for you, y/n. So you could be free from them all.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Yuta was a murderer and...you couldn’t even think the word...

And you...you ate their remains...Johnny’s...Mr. Fox’s...and…

You looked up at the plate of spaghetti and meatballs and came to another realization. You ran into the bathroom and threw up in the toilet.

You gagged and coughed as you held your hair back.

You’d just eaten Scott’s remains.

Your world was crashing down on you. Yuta, the love of your life, killed three people. And that was only accounting for the people you knew. You had no idea what his past was really like. Yuta cut them up, ground them up, did everything a butcher would do with their body parts. Yuta fed them to you. He ate them knowingly and unapologetically.

And the worst part?

You enjoyed every morsel…

And you craved more.

Yuta entered the bathroom and held your hair back for you as he caressed your back. “There, there…”

Tears from vomiting ran down your cheeks. “Yuta...You really shouldn’t have done those things…”

“Do you really mean that, y/n? Johnny made a fool out of you and lied to you. He humiliated you and he didn’t stop his new girlfriend from insulting you. He was scum. Mr. Fox was the most vile of them all. He touched you without consent. Rapists should perish from the moment they think of touching someone...At least, give me that much, sweets…”

As disturbing as everything Yuta had said sounded, you couldn’t help but agree with him.

“And Scott...You wished to make him go away...And your wish is my command, my angel.”

You got up from the toilet and flushed the contents down. You went to the sink and brushed your teeth. All the while, Yuta watched you.

“Y/n...The consumption of human flesh has been a custom in my family for generations...These days, we can’t just pick and choose our victims. We must have an honorable reason to kill them. You gave me three victims. A feast. It’s what sustains me, y/n…”

You spat the toothpaste out of your mouth and swished your mouth with some mouthwash. “You...you’re serious?”

“I need to consume human flesh at least once a year or I will die, y/n...Why do you think my parents died so young?”

You thought about it. “They gave up on human flesh?”

Yuta nodded somberly. “I don’t want to die, y/n. Now that I’ve met you, I can’t afford to…”

“But why did you feed them to me?” You asked.

“To absorb their power. To move on,” he said, “It’s my family’s belief that once you ingest the meat of your enemy that you will overcome the barrier that they’ve created for you.”

You stood there, silent. You were afraid of what he would probably bring up next.

“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” He asked, finally.

You averted your gaze and stared at the sink. “I...did.”

Yuta met your eyes through the mirror. “I know, y/n...And there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Not with me.”

Tears escaped your eyes. Yuta was right. It’d felt...amazing. Empowering. And each of them were the best meals you’d ever had…

“Yuta?” You started.

“Yes, darling?”

“Never keep anything from me again,” you commanded.

_______

It had been a year since the news broke out over Scott’s disappearance. Johnny and Mr. Fox’s missing person cases had gone cold.

Since Scott was out of the picture, your mom had a mental break and was admitted into a rehabilitation facility. She is continually seeking treatment and is turning away visitors. She wrote you a letter, reflecting on her past mistakes and how she’d failed you as a mother. She apologized profusely and promised you that she would try to be sober.

And that’s all you’d ever hoped for from her. You knew that it would be a difficult journey. But the desire for change was the first step in the right direction. And you had a feeling your mom was going to succeed.

You married Yuta. Your father gave you away at the wedding. You were happy. You and Yuta traveled the world together. You had adopted two rescue dogs. To your friends and family, you and Yuta were the dream.

When you’d returned from your honeymoon, Yuta had bought a house for you two to start a family together. The first night in your new house, Yuta bred you.

You two laid in bed together. Yuta hugged you and asked, “So, has anyone screwed you over recently?”

You laughed. “Nope. Sucks for you, doesn’t it?”

He rolled his eyes and nipped at your ear. “A Nakamoto man’s gotta eat, y/n...Any ideas?”

You nuzzled into his neck. “You can always eat me.”

Yuta got a hard on at those words. “You’re too sweet for me to eat. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, y/n…”

You traced your fingers down his happy trail and asked. “Well, we can go hunting this week. I’m sure there’s some privileged college fuckboy that is beyond redemption…”

“You know what, y/n? There’s so many things I love about you but it’s your optimism that gets me hot.”

“Oh yeah?” You teased as you kissed him.

“I love you,” Yuta said between kisses.

“I love you, too,” you replied.

[Fin]

[brian-bloody-may]

hi, love!! may i please request something with bri? enemies to lovers would be spectacular, but anything fluffy on your mind will do!! thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺

Hi! You’re my first ask :D I absolutely adore the enemies to lovers trope, though I’ve never actually written a fic using it! It's a little different however than the usual trope so keep that in mind. I accidentally ended up writing more than 4,000 words for this one (I was aiming at making it less than 2000 words jfsljgalk) and I think maybe some parts are stupid or don’t make sense, but I think it’s cute at least and it’s fluff and angst so what more can you ask for? Enjoy! Thanks for the prompt!!! I think I’ll call this “A Hard Day’s Night” lol

Slight tw for cursing

You didn’t mean for it to be this way, it just sort of….happened. You liked to think you didn’t have any enemies, I mean, you didn’t talk a lot, you didn’t have a lot of friends and you kept a low profile. You minded your own business, plain and simple. So how you ended up despising your neighbor across the hall from you was truly a shock to yourself.

It’s not like you didn’t have a reason though. Looking back, perhaps you had overreacted but....no, you had a perfectly valid reason. You sigh, you didn’t want to think about it anymore. You shut your eyes and laid back in your bed, and still you couldn’t stop replaying the day’s events over and over in your head.

It was, perhaps, one of the worst days you had had in the past few months. School was piling up, you were behind on no less than 3 assignments, you had an approaching test and you most certainly weren’t prepared. You had bills to pay, groceries to buy unless you wanted to starve. And now, the cherry on top, your mother had called to tell you that your father had been in a bad car accident, and that he was in the hospital with multiple broken bones. The pressure was piling and piling and piling.

So, after the worst week you’ve had in a very long time, all you wanted to do was go back to your shitty apartment and cry. Fate, apparently, had other plans. You entered your building and began walking up the steps. Truthfully, you hadn’t fully noticed the loud voices coming from somewhere farther up in the building, but as you got closer to your floor you realized it was coming from the hallway in front of your room. As you stepped into the hall, you noticed 4 men, 3 of them laughing and joking around, while the other man locked the door behind them preparing to go who knows where. You recognized him as your next door neighbor whom you had never actually spoken to. 

The sight of them had only caught you off guard for a second before realizing that, actually, you couldn’t care less who they were or what they were doing, as you only wanted to be in bed. As you walked towards them, all 4 noticed you, you kept your head low. You noticed out of the side of your eye that a blonde one had elbowed another one of the men, before walking towards you slightly with a confident and arrogant attitude that had already begun to piss you off. Then he spoke.

“Hello, gorgeous.” he said.

You heard one of them groan in annoyance, and another, which you realized after was your neighbor, chastise him.

“Roger, please.” he said

“What? I was only being nice”

Through all of this, you kept your head down and you didn’t stop to give him the satisfaction. You would have to walk past them to get to your apartment, so you kept going. Then you heard your neighbor speak once again.

“Oh, hey, I think I left something inside, let me get it.” and he quickly unlocked the door and went in, leaving the other 3 in the hallway. Right before you were about to pass them, the blonde, Roger, once again made a move, moving right in front of your path and leaning against the wall on his elbow in a stupid attempt of looking appealing. His other 2 friends, one with black hair and one with brown hair, both rolled their eyes.

“I’m Roger,” he said with a sly smile, sticking out his hand for you to shake. 

“Piss off,” you replied.

The two other men, though they seemed annoyed with his antics, didn’t think to move out of the way to let you through the cramped hallway, so you opted for pushing yourself through forcefully, slightly knocking Roger off his balance.

“Hey!” he yelled, offended. As you went past he put his hand on your shoulder, and in one quick moment of rage, you snapped and turned around.

“Listen to me, asshole. If you ever fucking touch me ever again, you will be so sorry. I’ve dealt with men who love to harass women, I’ve seen it all, and you’re just as bad as them. You do not have the right. So next time you even think about laying a hand on me or any other woman you’ve ever bothered, take a moment to think about what a piece of shit you are.”

In the moment you hadn’t noticed it, but your neighbor had found whatever he had been looking for and was now back outside in the hallway, locking up his apartment again as you went off on his friend. As you finished, you saw the look of shock on all 4 of the men’s faces. Whatever they had been expecting, it wasn’t that. Roger put his arms up in defense.

“Woah, I’m sorry.” he said half apologetically.

You turned on your heels and walked away, not suffering one more second of interaction. You heard your neighbor behind you saying something to them. It registered for a moment that he sounded angry. 

You were already looking for your keys in your bag as you approached your door after what seemed like a 5 minute ordeal. In reality, the events from the moment you got to the top of the steps to the moment you reached your door couldn’t have been longer than a minute, but doesn’t anger always make you perceive things differently? You were already fiddling with your keys and were about to unlock your door when you noticed that your neighbor had run up next to you before you got into your room.

“Look, I am so, so sorry for my friend’s behavior. Roger can be....a pain” he said as he rubbed his neck awkwardly.

You merely looked at him, anger still blurring your head.

“Um, if there’s anything I can do, you know, to make up for it, please let me kn-”

And before he could finish, you were walking into your apartment and slamming the door shut in his face. You had no room for niceties, no room for forgiveness at the moment. You turned around and slammed the keys on the kitchen counter. You thought that he might try to knock, or to say something on the other side of the door, but you heard nothing more and forgot about it. Your only mission was to cry like you had never cried before, so you walked to your bedroom, shut the door, and fell face first onto your bed. And then came the tears.

For the next few hours you had gone through a sad and vicious cycle. Cry, wipe your tears away, compose yourself, pick up the book next to your bed to try to move your mind away from your problems, remember your problems, and cry some more. Honestly, it was therapeutic. At some point you knew you wouldn’t be able to bottle your feelings up anymore, and maybe, you thought, this would be a turning point of sorts. Maybe you would be able to get your shit together after the climax of the day. Well, you thought that, and then you began to cry some more.

And so there you sat, crying rather loudly in your apartment, wallowing in self pity. So much so that you almost didn’t hear the knock at your door.

At first you wondered what would happen if you just didn’t answer the door. Whoever was on the other side of it surely couldn’t have been more important than what you had going on at the moment. But, in a quick moment of judgement, you decided to make yourself get up and answer it. You walked to the door, wiping tears and mascara trails alike off of your face, trying to maintain any dignity you had left. 

You didn’t bother looking through the peephole before opening the door. There stood your neighbor in front of you. It occurred to you that perhaps you didn’t have a right to be angry at him; after all, it was his friend who had set you off, not him. He had only been in the firing range. But either way, at that moment his was not the face you wanted to see. A new spark of rage began boiling in you, but he began talking before you got the chance to act on it.

“Hello, I-” he began before pausing, taking a look at your face and tilting his head. He undoubtedly noticed your tear stained face, you realized. “Uh, sorry, are you alright, love?” he asked gently. 

Perhaps, if you and he had been friends, this question would have sparked a different response in you, but after the day you had had, you didn’t quite feel like unloading all of your angst on to a stranger. Instinctively, you wiped your face with the back of your hand, trying to further wipe away your stained face.

“Yes,” you said swiftly and angrily, “what are you doing here?”

“Uh, well, I just wanted to apologize again for my friend, you see. I just,” he paused and looked down, before looking back up to you again. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

You wanted to be mad. You wanted to be furious at him. He, a complete stranger to you, had no right to check on you. He had no right to ask if you were alright, to invade your privacy. Briefly, however, it crossed your mind that maybe you were being rash and ridiculous. You stood there for a moment, deciding on some sort of response to his question. Then, it hit you like a pound of bricks, and, oh god, you were crying again. In front of your neighbor who you’ve talked to a collective 2 minutes total.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t put this all on you, I’m sorry,” you said, tossing the rest of your dignity out of the window. You rested your head in your hands and tried to stop the flow of tears.

“No, it’s alright, it’s ok love, I-” he stopped, not knowing exactly what to say. He hesitantly put his hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him, dodging your eyes away every few seconds in a sad attempt of escaping eye contact. 

“Listen, and it’s alright if you don’t want to or if it would make you uncomfortable, but uh, well. Would you like to come over to my apartment? I totally get it if that’s not alright, I know we don’t exactly know each other like that, but...you seem like you could use a friend right now.”

You looked around restlessly, your tears slowly coming to a stop as you wiped underneath your eyes once more and exhaling out. You thought about his offer, thought about how on another day, under different circumstances, you might have declined it. But he was right, you could use a friend.

“Okay.” you said. “Let me grab my keys.”

“Al..alright” he replied. He seemed as if he expected you to say no.

You turned back around, grabbed your keyring off the counter, and followed him out of the apartment and towards his own. He let you go in first, and you took a quick look around. It was nice; a little messy perhaps, but it was charming. The walls were littered with various posters and illustrations. One of the posters, you noticed, had 4 people on it whom you recognized. You looked closer and realized it was your neighbor and the 3 others you had met earlier today. Well, ‘met’ was an over exaggeration. Underneath the photos, written in extravagant text, wrote “Queen.” It was a band poster. 

You felt him walk up beside you after closing the door.

“Are you guys a band?” you asked, beginning to finally settle down but still sniffling occasionally.

“Uh, yeah we are, actually.” he said, once again rubbing the back of his neck as he had done earlier. You looked at the poster again, seemingly lost in thought, before he pulled you out of it.

“Right, well. I don’t suppose I’ve officially introduced myself. I’m Brian” he said, extending his palm.

“I’m y/n” you replied. And for the first time that day, you smiled, even though it was only slight. 

“Hello, y/n” he repeated, faintly echoing your smile. You realized that you didn’t exactly know how to progress the conversation. You had just cried in front of your neighbor, and now you were in his apartment. Needless to say that this was a new situation for you, and it seemed it was for Brian too. There was a short moment of silence over the room before you spoke up, breaking it awkwardly.

“I’m really sorry about everything,” you began before getting cut off.

“No, if anyone should apologize it needs to be me,” he started apologetically. “I’m so sorry about my friend earlier, Roger is a real pain in the ass and doesn’t know how to talk to people appropriately, as you can tell. I should have stopped him, I didn’t realize what he was going to try, I should have known though. I could have handled that better.”

This took you aback. You hadn’t anticipated such a sincere apology and now you were beginning to feel guilty.

“Really, I shouldn’t have lashed out at you that way earlier, I shut the door in your face, that was rude, i-” you paused to take a breath and ran your hand through your hair in the process. “It’s just been a really long day. So much has been happening lately and it’s become overwhelming. I usually don’t get so angry and impulsive, I just-”

“No, it’s alright, I understand completely. I’m the same way sometimes. It’s easy to let your problems, I don’t know, spiral sometimes. Snowball effect, until they’re so big they’re tough to handle. I get it.”

You weren’t used to someone being so kind to you. It almost made you start crying again, this time out of relief instead of frustration. You tried to hold back, but tears pricked the back of your eyes anyways. One escaped and you quickly wiped it away. 

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping.” he said, noticing it.

“No, no, you’re ok. I’m just not used to...this.” you quickly reassured, vaguely gesturing your hand in the air. You weren’t exactly sure what ‘this’ was. 

“Would you like to sit down? Can I get you something to drink? A glass of water?” 

“That would be lovely, thank you.” And with that he turned away into the kitchen, leaving you in the small living room to sit down on his couch. 

Looking around some more, you noticed a few things. On the walls, among his own band poster and others, you noticed a few illustrations and images. You realized that they were of constellations, planets, stars; anything related to space, it seemed, he had pasted on his walls. You then noticed a telescope in the corner of the room next to the window. It was silly, you pondered for a second, because right outside of his window was the wall of another building next to it. Surely he wasn’t able to see many stars through it, you thought, but your attention was once again drawn away by the sight of another thing. Near the telescope was a shiny red guitar propped up on a stand. He was a guitarist, then.

Brian walked back into the room a moment later with a glass of water in his hand. He gave it to you and you took it gratefully before taking a small sip. Perhaps you hadn’t realized how dehydrated you had actually been. He took a seat on one of the chairs next to the sofa, as to not overstep his boundaries and sit too close. 

There was another moment of painfully awkward silence. You were beginning to wonder if this was a mistake. You had no business being here, did you? You thought that maybe you’d say something like, ‘well, perhaps  I should be going’ or maybe even ‘sorry for wasting your time, i shouldn’t be here’ but you realized that it would only be combated by Brian’s reassurance, so it wasn’t worth the effort. Instead, you settled on something else.

“So,” you began. “I’m sure you’re probably wondering why I’ve been crying all afternoon and have been on the brink of tears since you invited me to your apartment.” You tried to work in some type of humor to deflect or lighten the mood but Brian didn’t laugh, he only stared empathetically in your direction, listening to you intently, not interrupting. His kindness was so astounding it scared you just a little, but you decided that you wouldn’t stop, and so you began to unload everything you had been carrying that day, that week, that month. It all came unraveling like a tightly coiled ball of yarn. You told him about school, about how you were in debt and were struggling to stay afloat, how your dad had been in an accident and now on top of everything else you were worried sick about him.

“I think the...situation..in the hallway earlier was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’m sorry you had to be there for that. All the stress was just too much to handle, and as soon as I got to my apartment I just...shattered.” you finished, with one last sigh. As you recalled everything, you were afraid that it was becoming far too overwhelming far too fast. You felt it heavy on your chest, you felt your voice become hoarse, your eyes become glassy, your lungs taking shallow breaths. All of the sudden you weren’t in Brian’s apartment anymore, you were inside your own head and nothing around you made sense.

And like that, for the thousandth time that day, you burst into tears. You couldn’t say you were surprised. You placed your head in your hands and tried to even your breathing but it wasn’t working. And then, out of nowhere, you felt the couch dip beside you, and you felt 2 arms wrap around your shoulders.

“It’s alright love, you’re ok, I’ve got you, no need to worry.” He said in a soothing voice, and you believed him. You didn’t think about the way that you had only known him for a little while and he had already seen you cry twice. You didn’t think about how one might find it strange that you had only just met and he was hugging you and helping you calm down from another fit of tears. You only thought about how at that moment, for the first time in a long while, you felt safe and cared for and no longer alone. 

This time you didn’t try to stop crying, you just let it happen, and Brian didn’t seem opposed. He let you cry in his arms, occasionally running his hand over your hair and reminding you to breathe in and out. After what you guessed was 6 or 7 minutes, your tears slowed, but Brian still held you. You were grateful. You finally took a long, shuttery breath and began to find some semblance of composure. 

“Thank you,” you said simply. 

“It’s no problem, darling. None at all.” he replied, slowly untangling his arms from around you, and you almost missed the contact once they were gone.

In the moments after you both stayed silent. Brian let you process, and you took a few more sips from your water glass. Your attention was drawn back to the guitar in the corner.

“You play guitar?” you asked to draw the conversation away from sadness and stress and everything else that had just passed over you in a wave of emotion. 

“Yes, I do. I built that guitar with my father. I’ve been using it ever since,” he said.

You thought that maybe you shouldn’t bother him, you had already put him through enough, he didn’t owe you any favors. But, you had to ask, didn’t you?

“Would you mind...playing something for me?”

“Yeah...anything you’d like” he said and stood up from beside you to grab it. You thought that maybe when he sat down he’d sit back in the armchair next to the couch, but instead he resumed his position next to you, only sitting a little farther away to make room for the guitar. He looked down in concentration before beginning to pluck a tune that was simplistic but beautiful. Then he began to sing, and you were entranced.

“Yesterday my life was in ruin. Now today I know what I'm doing. Gotta feeling I should be doing all right” he sang peacefully

“Doing all right. Where will I be this time tomorrow, jump in joy or sinking in sorrow anyway I should be doing all right. Doing all right”

You wanted him to sing forever. You would be perfectly content if, for the rest of eternity, you sat on his couch while he lulled you with a gentle melody. With each lyric, you fell deeper into the trance. Your eyes traced the features of his face. He was facing forward on the couch, his profile in full view and illuminated by the lamp a few feet behind him, making everything about him feel angelic and ethereal. It didn’t occur to you how intensely you had been staring at him while he sang. It was only when he stopped that you noticed he seemed a little nervous under your watch.

“It’s just one of our songs, my band’s I mean, It’s nothing much really,” he said, looking away awkwardly.

“It was perfect,” you assured. “You’re incredibly talented”

“Thank you,” he smiled, seeming genuinely appreciative of the comment.

For a moment you thought that the awkward silence had returned, but actually, you realized, there wasn’t anything awkward about it. You both sat still for a moment, and it felt as if you two had been friends for years, like you were more than strangers who happened to live in the same hallway. You didn’t feel strange or uncomfortable. The sadness you had felt only an hour, hell, only a minute or so before this moment had seemed all consuming, but now you could hardly remember why a lingering tear still ghosted your cheek. Your anxiety and stress was a distant memory now as you looked a few feet in front of you into his eyes.

He was looking back at you.

You noticed faintly how his eyes flicked down to your lips for a swift moment. You noticed, faintly, how yours did the same. For a second, you almost thought that the air had changed, that the energy had shifted in some way, you didn’t pay it much mind.

“y/n?” Brian said gently, lowering his voice nearly to a whisper. You realized he had inched slightly closer to you. You hadn’t realized just how close you had been sitting to each other before then. You skipped a beat before responding.

“Yes?” you asked.

He seemed unsure of himself, unsure of what he really wanted to say, and if he really wanted to say it.

“Can I…” he trailed off, not bothering to finish the question before leaning in ever so slightly to seal the gap between both of you with a kiss. A gentle one, one that perhaps matched the way he had been towards you that evening; soft, understanding, careful. Sweet.

It couldn’t have lasted more than 6, 7 seconds. You didn’t want it to end, but you certainly wouldn’t dare miss the expression playing on his face once you had parted. He smiled like you hadn’t seen him smile yet. He seemed happy, which was a beam of light upon the darkness in which the interaction you’d had together had started. He was considerably taller than you were, but he rested his forehead against yours gently, and he laughed.

“Was that terribly inappropriate?” he asked, looking down between the two of you.

You considered for a second what you wanted to say. You laughed back.

“It would only be appropriate, I think, if we didn’t do it again” You saw him smile again as he moved his head away slightly to look at you. 

“Well, I suppose we have no other choice.”

He moved his hand up to your face, cupping your jaw, and again you closed the gap.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

what’s left of us

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of ‘the choices we make’. I've been teasing this for so long that I'm so excited to finally have something to show for it. I really hope someone reads it. 

main masterlist | the choices we make masterlist | story description | discovery

summary: The Hargreeves have slowly been putting the pieces of their lives back together after coming back from the 60’s. Upon clearing out Reginald’s old office, the siblings find a box containing the files of their birth families. What happens when Luther makes the choice to open his?

warnings: swearing, canon childhood abuse and trauma, canon death/murders

word count: 1,566

The siblings stood in the doorway, no one daring to go in. Diego awkwardly cleared his throat. “So... who first?” Luther glanced down at him as Klaus shoved past. “Oh, you big bunch of babies. He’s dead.” Klaus waved his arm about as he moved further into the office, the bottle of brandy in his hand. 

“Are you seriously drinking right now?” Diego asked incredulously. 

“Well, the bastard might be dead but”, he shuddered, “I still don’t like thinking about dear old dad.” 

“Well, the study won’t clean itself.” Five said, following Klaus into the room. “Everyone take a box. Like the rest of the house, if you think it’s important, bring it up, otherwise trash it. We don’t need more of the old man’s stuff than necessary.” The siblings moved apart, some grumbling, others sighing. The clocked ticked as they worked, and Luther thought back to how they got here. After getting back to 2019, after saving the world, the family had planned to settle in and enjoy being together. Unfortunately, the consequences of what came before were bound to catch up with them sooner rather than later. Diego and Vanya had both been arrested almost immediately following their arrival. While Klaus got shitfaced and Allison called every lawyer friend she had, Ben and Luther sat and sat, wondering where to go from there. But yet again, Five seemed to have a plan, and had somehow managed to get Hazel and Cha-Cha’s guns to the police without suspicion of family involvement. Diego had been released pretty quickly afterwards, and so had Vanya, on account of Leonard’s murder being self-defense. Diego suspected his death had probably done the police department a favor, given Leonard’s history and the fact that he had killed at least 2 other people that they knew of. Ben rejoining the living after the doomsday incident in Texas had been a welcome relief to all of them, and the family had never felt more cohesive. The town had mostly left them alone, but the siblings were trying pretty hard to stay out of the public’s way. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, guys, I think I found something.” Allison’s voice broke through Luther’s thoughts and he looked over to where Allison was lifting a big box onto the desk. The siblings turned and gathered around the desk. Five grabbed the box from Allison, and his eyes widened. 

“What? What is it?” Diego asked, standing next to Luther. 

“It’s our files.” Five said quietly. 

“Our what?” Luther asked, eyebrows raising. 

“Our files. All the information about our biological families, it’s in here.” Five responded. An uncomfortable tension settled over the siblings as they looked at the box. 

“So... who wants to go first?” Klaus asked tentatively. Five shook his head. 

“Forget about it, I’m not interested.” Five said, moving away from the box. Allison let go of it and moved back from the table and Diego turned back to his project. Klaus and Ben moved back over to the fireplace, where they were definitely not cleaning. Vanya and Luther looked at each other. Vanya eventually shrugged, and moved back to her earlier spot. Luther swallowed. Why was he so curious?

-

Luther couldn’t stop thinking about the file and the information it might contain. He was content sure, happy even, but he couldn’t stop wondering. Did he have a biological sister? A biological brother, maybe? What about his parents? Why had they given him up? Did they regret it? Luther’s thoughts consumed him so much that he missed the uneasy looks his siblings shared over breakfast the next morning. “Whatcha thinking about?” Klaus singsonged, sitting down next to him. Luther startled, and looked up at him. He sighed and sat back in his chair. 

“Are you guys really not going to look at your file?” Luther asked. The siblings all looked at him, worry etched onto their faces. 

“What, this family not good enough for you or something buddy?” Diego half-joked. 

“I just... how are you not curious?” 

Allison shrugged. “I’ve got you guys. Isn’t that enough?” Luther sighed. 

“Luther, opening those files is opening a can of worms you can’t close again. Once you know, you know. And you may not like what you find.” Five said solemnly. 

“Yeah, whose to say any of our biological parents were any better than dear old Dad?” Klaus said. 

“I mean, they did give us up. For money.” Vanya said, sitting down next to him. Luther looked at her. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” That seemed to be the end of the conversation, and the family resumed their normal breakfast chatter. And yet... Luther continued to wonder. 

-

The Academy was dark and quiet, the only semblance of peace this place seemed to get. It was 3:32 am and Luther was trying desperately not to wake anyone as he snuck into Dad’s study. He needed to know, can of worms be damned. This was driving him crazy, and he just... he needed to know. He pulled the box out from where it had been set in the corner, and pulled the lid off. His file was the first one, labeled NUMBER ONE. Luther sighed, and closed his eyes. Was he really going to do this? Luther opened his eyes and flipped the folder open. His eyes flicked over the page, looking for the information he cared about. 

Mother: Taunya Roberts

In a relationship with Richard Gray. Might prove to have complications later on.

Paid: $7 million

Location: San Diego, California

Luther’s eyes focused on the name of his biological mother. Taunya. Huh. Not exactly what he had been expecting, but it would do. The page mentioned nothing about already existing siblings, but he was curious about the “complications” his father mentioned. 

Which is how he wound up at the police station the next morning asking Diego’s cop buddy that had helped him escape if he could track down his mother for him. He had agreed and promised to give Luther a call when he found something. It hadn’t taken long and he met him back at the police station a few hours later, almost anxious to finally get an answer. Luther sat down at the man’s desk and he sighed. “Well, you’re in luck. Found the family. From San Diego like you mentioned. Here, take a look for yourself.” He turned the computer towards Luther and he leaned in, eyes scanning the document. 

Taunya had married Richard in 1990. Richard and Taunya divorced in 2006.

Had four kids. Elena, Steve, Madison, Addison.  Elena, born in 1993. Steve, born in 1996. Madison, born in 2000. Addison, born in 2001. 

Luther’s eyes continued to skim the document. All still living in San Diego until- there. 

Elena Gray current place of employment: Manhattan District Attorney’s Office

Elena Gray current location of residence: Manhattan, New York

Luther sat back in his chair. Not only did he have 4 biological siblings, but he had a chance to talk, meet, see one of them? Manhattan wasn’t too far, only a few hours drive. He sighed, thanking the man. Luther mulled this thought over in his head. Was he really going to do this?

-

Apparently, he was. Luther took a deep breath and shook out his nerves as he stood in front of the prestigious looking building. 1 Hogan Place. That’s what the information Diego’s police buddy had given him. There were no guarantees she’d be here, or that she’d even want to see him, so he’d written a letter, just in case. He walked in, and the front desk lady directed him to the office he presumed was hers. There was girl sitting at a desk in front of the office and Luther’s heart skipped a beat, wondering if this was her. The girl looked up at him and gave him a smile. “How may I help you?” She asked politely. 

“Hi, um, I’m looking for Elena Gray?” Luther asked, hoping the girl-Lucy, the name plaque said, he noted- didn’t notice how much his voice was shaking. His nerves were vastly vanishing and he was wondering why he hadn’t listened to Five when he’d had the chance. 

“Oh, she’s not here at the moment. She in court.” Lucy offered, still smiling. “Can I pass along a message for you when she gets back?” 

“Actually, uhm yeah. Could you give her this letter?” Luther said, extending the arm grasping the paper. 

“Of course. Who should I say it’s from?” Lucy said, taking it from him and placing a sticky note upon it. 

“Uh, Luther. Luther Hargreeves.” Luther said nervously and Lucy’s eyebrow quirked. “What?”

“Nothing... it’s just that your family is a bit uh.. notorious around these parts.” He nodded, not sure how to respond. “And would you like to leave a phone number so she can get back into contact with you?” 

“Uh, it’s in there.” He said, nodded to the letter. Lucy nodded, and looked back up at him. 

“Perfect. I’ll give that to her once she gets back. Anything else I can do for you?” Luther shook his head and realized his feet needed to start moving for fear of embarrassing himself any further. 

“Thanks for your help.” Luther offered the girl a smile and headed out of the building to his car. As he walked he began to feel a painful mixture of regret and elation. What did he just do?

[sweetpeaownsmyheart]

T-Bird (Sweet Pea x Reader)

Hi Guys! Here is a lil something I wrote in an hour which has had limited editing, it’s bad basically! It is also past midnight here so I think I may just be sleepy writing but I hope you like it! I’m obsessed with musicals (all of them) so expect more writing inspired by them and feel free to request anything at all! Remember you are loved, my inbox is always open if anyone needs to talk in these unprecedented times :)

Word Count - Under 2000

Warnings - Bad writing? Not really anything else?

Summary - When you meet Sweet Pea again, things aren’t exactly going as planned. It is made more awkward by the fact he doesn’t know what you’re referencing...so you change that!

-----

It was cold out that night. Cold and ridiculously dark in the middle of nowhere without any of the towns light pollution. So, while it was cold and dark, with car parts and a long-forgotten manual thrown on the floor around you, you were searching for the nearest mechanics on your phone.

The situation stunk. You wanted nothing more to be at home, in bed, not calling up a random mechanic to come to a random abandoned road to fix whatever decided to go randomly wrong with your car. It stunk of the plot of a badly written and self-produced horror movie in which you were the victim.

As the phone kept ringing and ringing, you kept pacing, trying to keep warm. Who would pick up the phone at 2am anyway? No one would be in the shop and it was unlikely to be a home/mobile number. They were probably asleep. With your hope dwindling and the air still getting colder you decided to take a walk and see whether you could find help. Until...

-RING-

'Hello?' you began.

'Hey' you heard a raspy voice from the other end of the phone.

'Sorry to bother you this late, from the sounds of it you were sleeping. My car has broken down and i tried to fix it, but I think I may have made it worse. Is there anything you can do?'

'Umm sure, where are you?'

'oh. Right. Well about that... I'm not too sure. I don't have any signal so can't check on my phone and yeh... Somewhere on a backroad between Riverdale and Greendale. I took the third left turn when I left Greendale if that helps?'

'No, it doesn't but thanks for that Princess. I didn't plan on having to do rescue missions when i signed up for this job.'

It was if him saying the word Princess sparked something in your brain and suddenly the voice became slightly more familiar. 'Sweet Pea?'

'Yes? How do you know that? Who are you?'

'Y/N, umm we were in Math together in High School, not that you'd remember, god that was years ago now.' It had only been 3 years but having not spoken to him in School besides him asking to borrow your textbook, you didn't want to embarrass him by placing him on the spot.

'Yeh, I remember. How've you been?'

'Good up to now. I'm not exactly peachy sat on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere.'

'Well stay where you are, and I'll come find you. Be there soon.' And with that he hung up leaving you alone with thoughts about the 'good old days' and how you have changed.

-----

The sound of an engine broke you out of your thoughts and as you checked your phone you noticed that it had been about 20 minutes since you had called. As a slightly beaten up truck pulled up beside your car you got up from the curb and walked towards your (more beaten up at this point) car once again.

As Sweet Pea got out of the cab of the truck you can't help but feel 17 again. Not much had changed about him, he was still wearing the typical black jeans, his hair was still styled the same way, dog tags still hung around his neck and the iconic serpent jacket sat on his shoulders. Though, something was different. The way he held himself maybe. He looked as if he no longer was trying to carry the world, he looked more relaxed. Either way you felt like a younger version of yourself who would spend math staring at the back of his head wondering if he would notice you.

Sweet Pea had noticed you back then and he was convincing himself in that moment not to feel how he did when he was 17. You were just a customer.

'Hey Sweet Pea! Thank you so much for coming, I'll pay you double for it being, you know, the middle of the night.'

'It's my job. What's the problem?'

'Well as I was driving home, I noticed smoke coming from the engine and a god awful smell and then the car stopped.' At that moment, Sweet Pea looked down and noticed various tools on the floor. 'Um yeh... i tried to fix it but it didn't work.' you say, packing the tools into a bag, a blush settling on your face.

Pea stepped forward and looked under the hood of your car before stepping back. 'Looks like you did more harm than good Princess.'

'Can you fix it?' He responds with a hum before turning to look at you.

'Yes but not here or now, I'll take it to the shop and you can come pick it up in the next few days.'

'thanks.' You say as he begins wrapping some wires and rope type things around your car, attaching it to his truck before getting back in the front cab and opening the other side door for you.

'come on then!'

You hurried over and climbed into the seat beside him. He started the truck up and began the slow drive back to Riverdale. You took that time to admire his profile. You sure knew he was attractive at school but now he's an Adonis. Although, his current look reminded you an awful lot of a character from Grease

'What have you been up to then? What led you to be on a backroad at 2am?' He broke the uneasy silence that had settled between you both.

'You know, just work ended late and I fancied a drive to clear my head. Lost track of time.' Your response seemed short and you were glad SP didn't push further, you didn't need a reminder of your day. 'And what about you?' He looked at you puzzled. 'What led you to be the one picking up the phone at 2am? Had the

leather jacket and decided to go full T-Bird?'

He still looked confused. 'you know "automatic, systematic, hydromatic?"' you pushed but were still met with a blank stare. You decide to let it go as you reached the garage. 'Well thanks for getting me, call me when it is ready, and I'll come pick it up.' You practically whisper, already walking away from him feeing rather awkward and questioning if he had ever even seen Grease - he didn't exactly look the type.

'Wait, let me just get this unhooked and I'll drop you home, don't want you getting hurt.'

'Oh, that's nice of you, are you sure? I don't want to be trouble; I've already interrupted your sleep.'

'What's an extra five minutes though princess?' Truth was, despite not knowing you, Sweet Pea felt drawn to you and couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you. So, he sat you back in his truck, put your car in the shop and then got back in next to you.

The silence then seemed more comfortable, the tension lay within you both wondering who was going to try and start a conversation - you both did. At the same time. Another awkward moment to add to the many of the night. You started to talk about how school used to be and him about work.

'Tell me about it, Stud.' You hit him with another reference to test your theory and are met with a confused look once again before he starts to go on about work. Before…

'Oh my god you haven't seen Grease!' you interrupt him.

'I don't see what that has to do with anything?'

'The references Sweets, you haven't got them. Thank god I thought I was just being an idiot.' His heart swelled when you called him Sweets, normally he wouldn't take it but the way you sounded so innocent as his name left your mouth made him feel ~gooey~ inside!

'Oh right, was that what it was?' you respond with a hum. 'You like that film?'

'Yes, who wouldn't? Apart from people who haven't seen it of course.' You send a cheeky glare his way.

Suddenly Sweet Pea feels very nervous, a feeling that he hasn't really ever felt before and as he pulls up at your house, he turns to you.

'It's playing at the drive-in on Saturday, if you want to go? If you're free. To go. With me, I mean.' He just about stutters out.

'Sounds great - here's my number, pick me up at 7?' Your reply is perky and a smile settle on your lips followed by a smirk appearing on his. There was the cocky guy you knew. 'Thanks for coming to my rescue T-Bird, see you Saturday' you say turning and walking into your house.

-----

Saturday came sooner than you thought, you had spent most of the previous few days texting back and forth with Sweet Pea and had come to really like the guy. He turned up at 7 as you had said, dressed in his usual attire, you greeted him with a quick, 'Hey Zuko.' before grabbing his hand and walking to his truck.

The drive-in was relatively empty (not surprising as the film had played loads before) so you grab a good spot and go to get snacks before jumping in the back of the pickup and settling between cushions and blankets as the opening credits played.

As the film progressed you and Sweet Pea got gradually closer without realising it. By the end, he could hear you softly singing along to the film and at that moment he knew he was absolutely smitten with you.

It was the way your fingers softly tapped to the beat of the song while resting on his chest. It was how your eyes would light up every time that an iconic line was said. It was the way that you would keep turning to check on him and see that he was enjoying the film. He was head over heels by the time the ending note of 'We go together' played.

'What did you think?' You whisper to him, startling him out of his daze.

'Umm there was a lot of singing?'

'It's a musical Pea.' You respond, playfully nudging him with your shoulder.

'Yes, I know. It was okay, I suppose.'

'I know you're only saying that to keep up the bad boy persona but it's okay, I know you loved it.' You jump out the pickup and climb back into the cab, Pea quickly joins you.

'Okay, okay, I liked it. That's all you're getting. Don't tell anyone though.'

'Course not.' You scoot closer to him as he starts the engine and begins to drive back to your house.

Once you reach your house, the ride home having been filled with off-key singing from you and disapproving looks from Sweet Pea, he gets out to walk you to your door.

'I had a great time tonight Y/N'

You blush, 'Yeh, Me too Sweets. I think the Wiz is playing next week if you want to go maybe, with me.'

He smirked. 'You asking me out Y/N/N?'

'And if I am?'

'I'd have to let you know that you're the one that I want.' You were leaning into him, focussed on his lips but quickly pulled back erupting in giggles as he said the famous line.

'Told you that you loved it, T-Bird.' You lean in again and as your lips meet, you're both smiling because, you both knew, you really were hopelessly devoted.

<3

[wincestisasincest]

2000 Man (A beatle!reader story) - Part 4: If Love is a Drug

She is back! And better than ever.....

Not really, sorry it’s been radio silence/lurking, she’s had something of a depressive episode recently, but she’s getting back on her feet. So yea, I don’t want to promise anything, but I’ll try to post more.

And finally get a masterlist at some point with this series, for goodness’ sake.

So yea. 

When should I stop crediting @casafrass for this? I feel like it’s getting annoying, but it’s only fair. 

Description: It’s the year 2000, and y/n, the fifth member of the Beatles, is advertising her new book, Madam Beatle, in her first interview of the year. We see snapshots of her life, from when she joined the band, to the trials and tribulations, to the death of the band, and everything in between. Loosely inspired by Slumdog Millionaire.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4

Headcanons: Based off of this one, though like, not really, just the general vomit theme. 

Words: 3,951 (woop, she’s a long one, get ready for some TEA)

Pairings: Honestly, just let me know if you would like me to put some pairings in here, because most of all of the ones that I’ve written, you can read it either way, so please, just let me know! 

Warnings: Vomit, drugs, pills, violence, swearing

“So I understand that at one point you talk about a conversation that you had with Judy Garland.” 

“Yes, she and I met, actually I don’t remember where, but it was one of those random ‘high society’ parties, and we struck up a sort of conversation. I think we found each other’s stories interesting, because, as women in the entertainment industry, even across film and music, there were some startling similarities.” 

“Would you care to expand on those similarities a little?” 

“I mean, besides the fact that so much of the focus is on our bodies, which we’ve already discussed, the zeitgeist of the time seemed to be that women simply weren’t ready to handle all of the pressures that that sort of system put on us. Of course, this meant drugs, particularly amphetamines, which were quite vogue in the US at the time. Judy and I were both familiar with that sort of concept, however, the difference lied in that Judy chose to go on amphetamines, and I was given them.” 

“Given them by...?” 

“EMI, mostly, but everyone, including me, was complicit in a way. Though, it did slip more into self-regulation in the Beatles’ later years, and I even fully recovered by my solo career. But yea, especially in the earlier ones, during our massive concert tours, a lot of it was... very strong suggestions.”

“You were known for being very strong-willed, though.” 

“Yeah, but y’know, it’s my career. I guess at the time, even if EMI had let me go, I could’ve gone somewhere else on the name alone, but I was young, stupid, and scared of non-existent threats, so I really did put up with it for quite long.” 

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

“She hasn’t come out of that room since last night.” 

“It’s called sleeping, Rings.”

“It’s past noon! She came straight up here after dinner last night.” 

“And she locked the door.” 

“Very suspicious.” 

“You think we could get Mal to break it down?” 

“What if there’s a guy in there?”

“Then we’ve got to break it down.” 

“She’s an adult!” 

“What if she’s DEAD?” 

“Someone get Mal.” 

Your eyes fluttered open. With friends like these, who needs an alarm clock? 

Through blurry eyes, you could read the actual alarm clock: 3:17. 

Everything was alright for about 20 seconds, and then all of the crappy feelings had re-settled into your wakened state. Your legs felt like they were filled with cement, your nose was congested, your hands were clammy, you were extremely sweaty even though it was absolutely freezing, and you were stilled tired, even though you had gone to bed at 7:30 last night. 

You sauntered over to the door, pulling on a pair of sweat pants over your bare legs. 

You pressed your sweaty fingers down on the cool lock and pulled it open. 

“Do not! Call Mal! I am here.” Four blank faces gawked back at you, all far more spritely than you cared to admit that you weren’t. The suits were on as well. 

“Is that what you look like without makeup?” John quipped in mock-surprise. He knew damn well what you looked like without makeup, he just couldn’t give up a chance to be his sarcastic asshat self. You sighed.

“Not now, please, John.” The light in the main suite was too bright, so you pushed your head into the doorway and closed your eyes. You wanted to sit down again. 

“(y/n), love, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it is 3:30, and you’ve got to get your act together at some point.” You couldn’t see his face, but you knew that was Ringo.

“I know what time it is, I’m just... eurgh,” You didn’t bother opening your eyes, “This shit is exhausting.” 

“We can’t can-” 

“I know, I know,” you interrupted Paul, “I’ll be out in fifteen minutes.” 

- time skip brought to you by I am very tired - 

“(y/n), do you want me to carry that?” George appeared at your side, holding his hand out near yours, grabbing at the guitar case. 

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You chuckled weakly. 

“Your playing was off. You missed a few chords. You didn’t smile as much, and your voice was weaker. I can tell.” 

“Rough night is all. Remember, we can’t cancel even if I am sick. But I’m fine.” Your grip on the guitar case loosened unconsciously as your arm felt weaker. 

“Sure.” George swung his hand in and grasped at the handle of your case, before taking it in his own. You sighed, but still didn’t feel like answering. 

“What a gentleman you are, Georgie.” John ruffled his hair with his free hand. 

A pattering of very angered footsteps approached behind you, and you instantly knew who it was. Only one man could angrily footstep like that.

“What the hell was that, (y/n)?” Brian spun you around to look at him. Though you could tell that there was some softness in his eyes, and that he was perhaps worried just as much for you as for your reputation, he was still fuming. 

“Whaddya mean?” You fumbled out. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice. You were out of it tonight. Well? What was it? Weed? Cocaine? Alcohol? All of them?!”

“Scout’s honor, Brian, it was just a weird night.” Brian’s grip loosened on your shoulders, as he facepalmed. He looked back up at you sympathetically.

“You’re a little pale, (y/n), perhaps you should take an early night.” You peered over your shoulder, only to catch the lads instantly trying to pretend like they weren’t listening in on your conversation. You were going to go to a very fancy club tonight, and you had been looking for a chance to dress up. You looked back at Brian, who was almost sweating. Anything to ease his worry. 

“Alright, just this night. Even though I swear I’m fine.” 

“Right, right. Why don’t you head back with the equipment, and I’ll head out with the boys?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” You sighed and could feel your eyes droop. You trudged back to the black van and hauled yourself in the back, giving a small wave to Mal in the mirror. He nods understandingly. You shut the van doors. 

“Where’s she goin’?” You hear John bug Brian like a petulant child.

“Back to the hotel, I think.” 

“Killjoy.” Paul muttered.

George just watched the van leave over Ringo’s shoulder, whom he was deeply in conversation with. 

- time skip - 

It happened again. You had fucked up again. You’d missed some of your chords, your voice had cracked at one point, and not in the hot way, and your energy on stage was no longer a bubbly bounce, but a gentle, almost sleepy, swaying. 

Your fuck-up only really hit you after, though, as you had zoned out while you were on stage. 

You couldn’t go out to face the boys. You just couldn’t. You sat in your locked dressing room, head in your hands, as you stared at your knees trying not to pass out. Everything was blurry. 

You were awakened from your thoughts by a loud thumping. You could feel your stomach drop. It was an angry knock. Why did men always have to be so angry? 

“(Y/n), I know you’re in there.” It was John. Of course it was John. It was always John. He never knew when to stop. 

You leaned back in your chair, dazed, knowing full well that you didn’t have to let him in if you didn’t want to. You shakily pulled a cigarette out of a pack on the table and it it with your delicately engraved lighter while the pounding continued. He would die out there if he had to. 

“Whaddya want?” You blew a plume of smoke and coughed.

“Why are women always so dramatic? Just let me in, damnit!” 

“Not if you don’t stop acting like a petulant goddamn child!”

“Call me a child, will you? I’m not the one who can’t handle every goddamn concert. What? Are you too tired? Awww, I’m sorry. Do you need a nap?” 

You could feel your eyes brim with tears. You put out the cigarette, grabbed your bag, and opened the window. The wind blew in your face, and it was almost calming. Using the gymnastics skills that you had honed as a kid, you slunk out the window and onto the open street, your heels clacking on the pavement. You pulled a coat over your face and called a taxi, only offering cash but making sure to keep your looks relatively obscured. Back to the hotel, where you could sleep it all off.

- Time skip - 

You slept for 20 hours, and yet, you still woke up feeling all the worse. The clock read 4:00. You were about to be late for call. There was no shuffling outside, so you could assume that the lads had already left. Awesome. 

You fixed your hair, grabbed your guitar, called a limo, and added small touches of makeup on the ride there. You could barely feel anything anymore, and your body had gone completely numb. You chunked on foundation way more than usual as to hide the cold sweat and incredible paleness that your face had broken out in. Some of the powder drifted over your lips, and you felt a welling of stomach acid churn. 

You swallowed, took a deep breath, and your stomach calmed down once more. You were backstage. 

You thanked the cab driver before slipping through the back door, barely being able to make it open. The first thing you met was Brian having a panic attack, which actually made sense for once, as there was about 15 minutes until you were on stage. 

“(Y/n)! Where the bloody hell were you?!” The rest of the lads were behind him, speaking and looking at you like some high school girl’s clique. You shot them an angry, but weak, stare.

“No one woke me up.” 

“You look like death.” Paul piped up from the back.

“You’ll meet death very fuckin’ soon-” You had no time for any of the sass anymore, but a hand clamping on your shoulder cut you off. You looked up to your left, and were greeted by the face of Neil Aspinall. 

“That’s enough of that, (y/n), we have something to do.” He didn’t wait for your answer, but simply lead you backstage. You were far too dazed to resist, so you simply let him steer. 

“So, the company, not me, heard that you haven’t exactly been on your A-game lately, and they recommended something.” You nodded, still not listening.

“Apparently, a lot of rockstars use it, they heard about it from the manager of the Animals or something, so I thought we could give it a try. It’s supposed to help you get that burst of energy that you need.” He patted your shoulder joyfully.

“Now, this is all of the company’s doing, so, if you don’t want to take them, then I completely understand, and I’ll just tell them that you did, but I am supposed to mention them.” Neil’s voice drifted off. In front of you was a table with several small white pills and a glass of water. 

“No. I’ll take it. We gotta a show to do.” You were sure that Neil said something, but you didn’t hear, as you were too busy downing the pills and the water in one determined gulp. 

- Time skip - 

That night was the most energetic that you had been. Almost too energetic. Your eyes were shot and pink, though fortunately all of the audience was too far away to notice. Your playing was erratic and very harsh, though the screaming was too loud to hear. Your vocals, well, those would not be matched until some actual crackheads took the stage later. 

None of your actions felt deliberate, everything felt at the whim of the surges of energy jolting through your body, while your actual mind just felt more and more disconnected, and your stomach churned. The lights gave you a pulshing headache. 

Three-quaraters through the show, you began to come back to Earth again, though not because the drugs were wearing off, but because something else was beginning to emerge. You could feel it. The wave rising up in your stomach. You swallowed. You shouted the lyrics into the microphone. You put your all into the song, even though you no longer felt the energy. You were not going to mess up on stage again. 

Paul gave you some side-eye. Though the fans were absolutely eating up, he wasn’t buying your shtick. 

Finally, you made it to the last number. The crowd screamed. Your heart pounded in your chest. You were sweating like crazy, and your hair was sticking to your face. Your legs felt wobbly, but you thew a hand up and waved goodbye to the crowd, as well as to any sense of calm in your stomach. 

As you shambled off stage, Ringo scrambled up behind you and put an arm around your shoulder, steadying you. Oh god, even he knew and he couldn’t see your face. Your guitar was slung around your shoulder, but you forgot that it existed, and slammed it into a poor stagehand. 

With your last sense of control left, you removed our guitar the minute that you got off stage and handed it to said stagehand, who was highly confused, while you grabbed the nearest trashcan and heaved your entire stomach into it. Mind you, since you had slept for the last day, there were hardly contents to begin with, just raw stomach acid.

Your throat burned, you sweat, and your eyes wanted to do nothing but close. You could feel gentle hands pulling your hair back, while startled screams and yells rose up backstage. You didn’t care. You had fallen to your knees, taking the trashcan with you, still completely retching your stomach into anything that would take it. 

“What the hell did you do ta her?”

“It wasn’t me, it was that stuff that EMI sent over?” 

“What stuff?”

“I don’t know, pills, something!”

“You gave her pills? She’s clearly had the fucking flu, on top of dealing with your ridiculous schedule. 

“I just did what they told me to do!”

“Brian! I want you to end the contract with EMI right now.” 

“John, you don’t mean that, sit down.”

“I second.” 

“Paul, John, why don’t we all just-”

“No! If this is how they choose to treat people, to treat (y/n), then I don’t want anything to do with them. Look at what you’ve done to her!

“What I’ve done?! This is not just me, and you know it.”

“I never said give her fucking pills!” 

“You never say anything, you just yell!” 

“Mal, can you call an ambulance?”

“Already done, Georgie.” 

The vomit stopped, and you lifted your head up, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. Ringo’s hands gently fell from your hair. 

“No, no ambulance, I’m fine.” Your voice was so raspy, like your throat had been torn out. 

John, Paul, Brian, and Neil froze in the middle of their argument while George and Mal cocked their heads to look at you from the side. John only stayed quiet for a second.

“You’re not fine, you’re on fucking drugs!” He lurched forward, approaching you. You could feel your stomach quell again. You swallowed. 

“Any drug that I was on,” you breathed deeply, “is in there.” You pointed to the trashcan. 

“You’re being ridiculous, I-” 

“No! Fuck you! You don’t get to say shit!” that come out far louder than you expected. You stood at your full height, willing to handle the discomfort if it meant telling him off. You’d even surprised John/

“How the fuck can you pretend like I’m the one acting ridiculous right now considering all the shit that you said to me yesterday? How far does your fucking double standard go? Of all the sins you’ve committed, John Lennon, I never thought that hypocrisy would be one of them. Get a grip, goddamnit! This is just as much your fault as it is mine, and I know you know that, so look me in the eye and for a goddamn second confront the consequences of your actions!” You were breathing very heavily now, whether with anger or exhaustion, and you could feel a surge of energy come through you yet again, though this time you weren’t sure if it was the drug.

You lunged at John, aiming your fist at his face. Everyone suddenly shifted into action all of a sudden, with George and Ringo holding you back and Paul pulling John away, though you noted that Paul refused to look John in the eye. 

“Woah, woah, (y/n), take it easy. Calm down. It’s alright, it’s alright.” You could hear George softly try to calm you, though your heavy breathing continued, and at some point along the way, you ended up crying into his shoulder as Ringo patted your back. 

“Come on, you’ve done enough.” You heard footsteps shuffle away, followed shortly after by another pair, leaving you, George, Ringo, and a very awkward Mal.

You cried until there were no tears left to cry. Your legs got tired from standing at some point, so you simply sat down, with George and Ringo joining you as Mal left to explain to the ambulance that they wouldn’t be needing their services today. 

You swallowed, and you could feel the tears begin to stick to your cheeks.

“We should probably go back to the hotel.” You leaned against George’s shoulder pensively.

“If you’re up to it, Birdie.” 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” 

You stood up weakly as Ringo wrapped his jacket around you. The three of you returned to the hotel without another word.

- Time skip -

You, George, and Ringo, slowly creaked open the door to your shared massive suite. Paul sat in the middle of the room, a beam of moonlight illuminating his face, legs crossed, just as he was waiting for you. John was nowhere to be seen.

“There you are!” he said in a stage whisper, “I was worried sick!” He rose from his chair and approached your trio. 

Before you could even anticipate what he was doing and protest, he wrapped you in a very warm hug. He was always good at those. He held you like he was afraid to lose you, and you used what strength you had left to return it with all your might, as if you were afraid to lose him. The two of you stayed like that for a minute, without words, before he separated. 

“You best get some sleep. All of you.” His eyes traveled to George and Ringo, and it was clear that there was no more room for negotiation.

The three of you gently drifted into your rooms with Paul watching you all leave. The minute your face touched your pillow, you fell into a dreamless sleep. 

- Time skip -

God only knows how long you had slept, but the growling of your stomach woke you up next morning. You felt a lot better, at least, and the mothering of Paul, making sure that you ate and drank enough, and that you didn’t need anything, made sure that you were gradually on your way to some form of recovery. 

Paul, as you had learned, was originally the one who had postulated that you had some form of the flu, and the symptoms proved his predictions correct. Thankfully, he was well equipped to care for people with the flu, having done so for his family growing up, so he knew all of the common remedies. 

John was still nowhere to be found, but George and Ringo emerged from their rooms one by one, and the four of you lazed around, reading papers and watching the news, for the rest of the morning. 

When you finally asked where John was, Paul answered that he had gotten up early and gone for a walk. Pretty long walk, you guessed, but didn’t pry. 

At noon, there was a gentle knock on the door. Paul admitted a very sheepish looking Brian into the suite. He approached the table. 

“How are you feeling?” 

You took a long sip of water.

“I’m alright, better than yesterday.” 

“That’s good.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck. There were other things on his mind. 

“Um, I wanted to apologize, on behalf of me, and Neil, who is speaking to the company at this point, he’s trying to-” 

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, pausing to gather your thoughts, “No, really, it is. You didn’t know, and neither did I, and neither did Neil. And I’m alive. Now we just know not to do it again.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you shifted in our seat to grab the tea pot, though Brian shook his head, “No, no, I must be going, we’re traveling again today. But, enjoy your tea, and I’ll see you in a few.” 

You nodded sagely. Brian began to take his leave, but halfway through the door, he turned around to look at the solemn crowd.

“You know, you all really do mean a lot to me. I promise you that. Not as clients, but people. This will not happen again.” And with that, he left.

- Time skip (last one, we’re almost done folks) - 

“I’ll take that.” John grabbed the large box off your hands, and you squeaked with surprise. His face twisted into an unfamiliar expression of damaged concern almost instantly.

“Oh, sorry, I just didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Yeah, I was on a walk this morning.” He continued to struggle with the box. You’d finally had enough of it, and leaned in to help him haul it to the top of the shelf in the crate. 

The two of you stood there awkwardly, both refusing to look the other in the eye.

“I-”

“You-”

You both began speaking at the same time, interrupting eachother. 

“You go first. “ He offered.

“No, no, I’ve said enough.” You waved your hands defensively.

“So have I.” He chuckled. 

Another awkward silence. 

“I guess,” he began, “I’m sorry for saying that shit to you. I was stressed, angry, and I know that’s not an excuse, but then you got on the drugs, and I was so worried, and I guess I just never realized...” he trailed off, realizing that he was just on the verge of not making sense. He took a deep breath. 

“I guess, what I”m trying to say is that I would never, ever, want you to do what you had to do there. It wasn’t fair of me to put that kind of pressure on you, and everyone else. And, you didn’t hear it from me, but I’ll try to do better.” 

You chuckled lightly. 

“That sounds like a plan. And, I guess I’m sorry for not coming to you sooner.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yes, I do. I just let you get worried about me, stupidly thinking that I could handle it all by myself, and I just totally forgot about everyone else. It’s kind of ironic that I, uh, snapped at you about how  your actions affect others, when I did the same exact thing. So, uh, I’ll work on that too.”

You swore you could see the smallest bit of a smile on his face. The first one in a while.

“Well then,” he thrust out his hand, “let’s make that a deal. Mutual forgiveness, and hopefully, mutual progress”

You took his warm hand in yours.

“You got it, John.”

[flipomatic]

Shortcuts Chapter 8

Author Note: I don’t know if anybody noticed the Fantasia reference in the last chapter, but the magic brooms trying to flood the school was a reference to the Sorcerer's Apprentice released as part of Disney’s Fantasia in 1940. To understand what Emira was dealing with, watch the original here. Another great one is Rhapsody in Blue from Fantasia 2000. It’s fantastic.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

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Emira stood in front of her destination, scanning the windows and rooftop for any alternate entrances. Unfortunately, she didn’t see any. Perhaps she could avoid scrutiny if she snuck in, though that was a long shot. There were plenty of people inside who could notice her and kick her out, which they certainly would.

She’d been banned from the library for a good reason after all.

But now she really needed to go there. Watching Viney perform her new spell and been inspiring and Emira wanted to help her, but without doing some research it wouldn’t be possible.

She had no idea what kind of spell she could use to enhance the magic. Emira had asked the illusion track teacher what they thought about a spell that could be used to extend or enhance other spells, but they said there were so many that might or might not work for what Emira wanted and suggested that she do some research.

This left Emira with no choice, if she wanted to help then she would need to look in books. That meant the library.

The problem was, there was no way she’d be allowed inside. By her estimate, the odds of getting past the front desk were about 5 percent. She had known that before she walked all the way there, and she was willing to take those odds. Helping Viney with her spell was worth it.

Shaking her doubts away, Emira put on her best confident smile and walked up the stairs to the library entrance. She opened the door and went inside, closing it gently behind her. She held her head high, making sure not to look at the head librarian behind the counter, and walked past the front desk. Perhaps if she acted like she belonged he would just let her go. That was wishful thinking.

“Excuse me Ms. Blight.” The head librarian called to her in a stern tone, causing her to stop mid step. She turned her head to look at him. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He said, gesturing to a small poster on the wall behind him with the Blight twins’ faces on it and the word banned written over them in red ink.

Emira made sure her smile didn’t slip as she turned and approached the counter. “Good afternoon.” She made a point of being polite, pretending she hadn’t just been trying to walk past without being noticed. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stay and do some reading.”

“It isn’t.” The librarian replied bluntly, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I need to do some research for a spell, and this is the best place in the Boiling Isles to do it.” Emira tried talking up the library a little, then switched her tactic. “I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.”

The librarian’s firm expression slipped slightly, as if he were considering it. “Your brother isn’t here, is he?”

“No, he’s not.” Emira replied firmly. Ed always caused more trouble than her; it was a good decision not to bring him today.

The librarian thought about it for a moment, then sighed once. “Fine, but if you cause so much as a wink of trouble you’ll never set foot in this building again.” Phew, that was a relief. She wasn’t sure what she would do if he hadn’t let her in.

Now Emira was genuinely smiling. “Thank you so much!” She was about to walk away, but realized that she had only ever spent time playing pranks here, not actually reading books, so she had no idea where to even start looking. “Where can I find books on casting illusion magic?”

The librarian leaned forward to point at a set of stairs to the right. “Go up those stairs, then make a left and go straight until you reach the last row of bookshelves.”

Emira thanked him again, then went to do just that. She could feel his gaze on her back as she climbed the stairs and turned left. She walked that way until she reached the last set of shelves, then turned in to look for something she could use.

Just as the librarian said, the shelves were full of books about illusion magic. An overwhelming number of them, in fact. She skimmed the titles, taking a few that could be relevant. She stuck with broader topics to start. Quickly, her arms were full of books. Emira took her pile out of the row of bookshelves and over to a nearby table, where she sat down and got to work.

The first book was a general overview text of types of illusion magic. Emira thought it would be a good place to start, since she wasn’t really sure how to find the information she was looking for and this could give her some ideas. She opened to the table of contents, looking to see which type might fit best for enhancing the power of other spells. There was a chapter on layering illusions together, so Emira flipped to that page to start there.

She read through the pages, one by one, looking for any info that could help her. Reading this reminded her of how much she hated studying, but she was determined to stick with it.

Emira had only been reading for about ten minutes when someone approached her. She didn’t notice them until they spoke.

“Emira?” There was no mistaking the voice behind her; Mittens had found her. “What are you doing here?” She asked in a high tone, sounding like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Emira turned her head to look at her. Mittens was carrying her school bag and had a concerned look on her face. “Doing some research.” Emira answered the question honestly. She patted the chair next to her to invite Mittens to sit down.

“Really?” Mittens joined her at the table, putting her bag on the ground and sitting down in the chair. “That’s not like you.”

“I know, I’m not usually allowed in here.” Emira chuckled.

Mittens nodded, gesturing towards the front of the building. “That must be why the librarian told me to look out for trouble.”

“Good work catching me.” Emira winked, bringing a slight smile to Mittens face. “I really am here to look things up though.”

“What are you trying to find?” Mittens asked, shifting to a more serious expression.

Maybe Mittens could help her find the right books, or direct her to a different section of the library if she was looking in the wrong place. “One of my friends, Viney, she’s one of the multi track students if you remember, is working on developing a spell.” Emira had started speaking strong, but this was surprisingly embarrassing to talk about. She could feel her face warming as she continued. “I want to help her enhance it with illusion magic, so I’m researching what kind of spell might work.”

Mittens’ eyes were narrowed as she turned it over in her mind. “What does the spell do?”

“Give a beast temporary healing abilities. Right now, she can apply the spell and it heals once. The problem is, it wears off after one use and isn’t as strong as it should be.” That was the easiest way to explain it.

“Hmm.” Mittens brought her hand to her chin as she thought. Emira could practically see the gears turning. “So you want to meld multiple types of magic, specifically to let a beast carry a healing spell effectively.”

“That’s right.”

Mittens turned her eyes to the pile of books Emira had gathered. “Those books are too broad to help with that.”

Emira had figured, but didn’t know where else to start. “Could you help me find better ones?” She asked. Mittens spent a lot of time reading and Emira trusted her to know what she was doing.

Her sister nodded. “I’ll go look.” She rose from her chair, then walked back towards the same bookshelves Emira had been looking at before. While she was gone, Emira skimmed through the rest of the chapter she had been reading. She didn’t want to miss anything if it was going to be useful.

It wasn’t very useful, and by the time she had finished Mittens was on her way back with a couple books in her hands. Emira closed the book and put it back on top of the pile.

“Here you go.” Mittens put the books in front of her. “This first one examines theories in magnifying spell power through perception. The second is studies on ways to make spells last longer after being cast.” Leave it to Mittens to find just the right books.

“They’re perfect.” Emira stood for a moment to give Mittens a quick hug. “Thanks, you’re the best.”

Mittens averted her gaze as she pulled back from the embrace. “Glad I could help.” She said, and then picked her bag up off the ground. “I have to get going, it’s almost story time. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“I’m sure I will.” Emira then said goodbye and waved as Mittens turned to walk away. Once Mittens was out of sight, she opened the book about magnifying spell power and got back to work.

She tried not to think about how many hours it might’ve taken her to find this book on her own, and thanked Mittens again in her head.

Emira stayed at the library for another couple of hours. She found some interesting information in the first book, and some even better stuff in the second. She went to put the first set of books she got away and found another one that would help.

By the time she left the library, Emira had a good idea of how to fix the spell. She checked the three books out of the library to keep working on it. Though the reading had been tough, she’d had a productive couple of hours and was optimistic that the spell would work.

She would perfect it and practice at home so that she could get it just right, and then show Viney when it was ready.

It was going to be great.

_________________________________________________________

End Note: I’ve missed writing these two together.

Next Chapter

[fortheloveoffanfic]

You (pt.2)

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- A continuation of this fic-.> You. Also, it’s veryyy long, but I really couldn’t help myself)

Spring, Napa Valley, 2000 In the walled off backyard of a large winery, Keanu stood, that day, dressed in formal cloths that fit perfectly. White-tie grade suit that reflected the vintage theme that they had chosen. The freshly cut, green grass felt soft under his shining black shoes and the smell of flowers, coming from hedges against the vine adorned walls intermingled with the ever-lingering smell of oak and wine. A quiet chatter ran through the gathered crowd; his family and friends on the right and hers on the left, though, as the heavy doors creaked open, it stopped and everyone stood.

Keanu’s back straightened at the sight of her and he inhaled deeply. She looked better and more beautiful that anything he could have ever dreamed of. Y/n wore cap-sleeved, lace adorned, mermaid cut, ivory dress. An old fashioned veil hung over her forehead and eyes, skewing her vison as her father walked with her towards Keanu. In her hands, Y/n held a bouquet dominated by colorful wild flowers in blatant homage to all those pretend wedding they’d have when they were just children. Neither of them could believe it. Who would have thought that summers spent in her backyard would turn out to be practice for their real wedding decades later?

When they reached the alter, Y/n’s father pulled Keanu into a short hug, whispering in his ear, “Of all the men that I could have handed my baby girl over to, I’m glad it’s you son.”

Keanu smiled proudly in thanks. Her parents, like his mother, had been welcoming to their relationship and when they announced their engagement two years after that memorable night in her bedroom, her mother had exclaimed, in an exact quote, “Finally! I thought I’d die before we got this news!” His mother had been just as excited, murmuring something about finally getting grandchildren. 

As they faced each other, Keanu's sister standing as the officiant before them, Y/n beamed brightly and Keanu couldn’t help but return her glee. The ceremony went on without flaw and eventually, it was time for the vows. Like years of practice had preached, Y/n went first, “Keanu, three years ago, if someone had told me that I had known the love of my life since I was three, I’d have laughed in their face and called them crazy. But today, as I stand before you, more ready to become your wife than I’ve ever been to be anything else, I think I’d be the crazy one for not believing them. We’ve grown together, you’ve loved me when I felt un-loveable, taken care of me when I didn’t what to be taken care of. You’ve made me laugh and you’ve dried my tears. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that our love has been over thirty years in the making, that it’s taken us so long to get here, but I don’t regret it. If anything, it’s taught me that the best things are right there if you choose to look for it. Thank you, for loving me, and for helping me find it. Thank for thirty two years of unconditional love and I hope that in our next thirty, fifty, or how much ever it ends at, that I could, at the very least, show you a fraction of the love you’ve made me feel.”

With the bouquet having been handed of to her sister and maid of honor as she took her place at the alter, it was easy for Keanu to clasp her smaller hands in his as he recited his vows, “Y/n,” he began, trying to suppress the nerves, “You’d think after all those years I’d know exactly what I was going to say. But the truth is, I don’t. All I can say, is what I know. And what I know is that thirty-two years ago, I didn’t just meet a girl who lived a couple houses away, or my best friend, I met the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. My soulmate. My home. And even though we’ve known each other for this long, it’s still hard to believe that I’m the man you chose, which is why I promise to make every day for the rest of our lives, worth it. I can’t always promise a walk in the park, but I can promise that even when things don’t seem that great, I’ll be right there with you, through it all. I love you Y/n, my love, my soulmate, my home and very soon, my wife.”

By the time he was through, Y/n’s eyes had begun to shine with tears. They exchanged rings, a thin gold band with diamonds on it for her and a slightly thicker one for him, both with the word ‘forever’ engraved on the inside. Afterwards, they ended with their first kiss as a married couple, the photographer stepping in front of them just in time to capture the moment.

Early 2001 The move had been tough, changing jobs had been tougher and with three movies being released that year, Keanu had been gone a lot. Which is why when she found out, Y/n was a little more worried than excited. 

A baby?

In the midst of their crazy lives?

By the time Y/n had found out, Keanu had been gone for a couple weeks and, unable to keep the news to herself for any longer that a few hours, Y/n hopped on the red eye to New York. On the plane ride, all the way through the cab ride to his hotel and even as she walked to the conference room on the first floor, Y/n’s stomach made a habit of twisting in and out of knots. 

On one hand, they were a stable couple. Married for just about a year, happy, in love. With both their pay checks, they could easily afford about three babies, though Y/n was glad it was going to just be the one.

However, on the other hand, while they were certainly finically able and mentally stable, Y/n wondered if they even had time for a child. Keanu was travelling a lot lately and she would often spend hours past midnight at her office. Then, there was the fact that they had never talked about children. They had known each other, for what felt like forever and still, they hadn’t talked about it. Sure, jokes had been made, little hints been dropped by their families and even the tabloids had seemed smitten with the idea. Since they had married, entertainment journalists had banded together to scrutinize her. If she drank water or wine, what she had at the sushi bar, the possibility that her doctor’s visit might not have been for an ear infection, but an ultra-sound. The question had even come up in Keanu’s interviews, with prying minds being bold enough to ask, “When are you going to take the leap and knock her up? She’s gorgeous, you’re a heart throb, the world needs more of your genes.”

And still the topic hadn't come up between them.

Of course, it was about to. On wobbly legs, Y/n stood at the back of the small crowd, watching as Keanu and his co-star got interviewed. She was a beautiful, tall, blonde who looked amazing in anything, but the despite it all, Y/n knew that she could trust her husband around the woman and thought very little of their light hearted banter for the cameras. 

Next to her, was Keanu’s publicist, who was more than surprised at her impromptu appearance, “Y/n, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“What? Huh? Yeah!” Y/n waved her off nervously, going to toy with the visitor's badge that hung around her neck.

“Are you sure? Yesterday Keanu was thinking of flying back home, he said you were sick,” the older woman said, concern written on her matronly features. 

“Oh, yeah,” Y/n nodded, weakly, “I was. I am, but I felt a little better so I flew out to surprise him.” 

Thankfully, before Y/n could suffer through anymore nervous attempts to hide the truth, the interview was over, and having spotted her through the crowd, Keanu was headed their way, “Y/n?” he said, a note of worry etching his tone as he immediately pulled her into a hug. His co-star and publicist quickly excused themselves and when Y/n requested that they speak in private, he took them straight to his room. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here? You’ve been sick for the past couple weeks and you’re looking a little pale. You should be home, resting.”

Y/n smiled at his concern. He was always more worried about her than she was about herself. “I know,” she nodded "I went to the doctor a couple days ago. He ran a couple tests, I got the results back on Tuesday." It was Thursday. She had kept it to herself for almost two days and she was itching to tell him.

"Oh?" Keanu's frown deepened, worry lines creasing his brows. As he sat on the bed next to her, Keanu took Y/n's hand, lightly squeezing, trying to contain his worry. Swallowing thickly, he asked, "What did he say? Y/n, babe whatever it is, we'll get through it, together."

His words serves as warm comfort a d Y/n offered him a meek smile as she said; “He said that I’m pregnant.”

Keanu sighed in audible relief and it took a minute before a wide grin brightened his handsome features, “Y/n,” he breathed, pulling her into a crushing hug as he pressed a passionate, love-filled kiss to her lips, “I’m going to be a dad! We’re going to be parents!”

“You want to keep it?” Y/n laughed, relived that he was excited.

“Keep it?” Keanu scoffed, “I can’t wait to meet this little guy,” he pulled away to lay his hand on her still-flat stomach, “Or girl. A girl would be great too. Like a little you,” he wondered out loud.

“Or a little you,” Y/n mused, taking his hand, “I’m so glad you’re okay with this. We’re gong to be a family.”

“We are,” Keanu declared, pulling Y/n in for another kiss.

2003 Just let him be okay. Just let him be okay. Just let him be okay.

Those were the words that formed a mantra in Y/n mind as she weaved through Los Angeles traffic. Her hands maintained a tight grip on the wheel as she ignored blaring horns of those she had cut off in her panicked frenzy. The girls were home with the housekeeper, Nelly, who had essentially pushed her out the door when she got the worrying news, assuring Y/n that her kids would be fine and that she should focus on Keanu. 

Keanu. Her husband of three years, a man she had known for thirty-five years. The same one who drove well below the speed limit on he both times his newborns slept peacefully in the backseat. The man who usually pressured them to leave their house an hour earlier so he wouldn’t have to speed with his kids and wife in the car. Keanu was a careful man, the kind that thought things through, the only one she had ever fallen in love with. And now he was in the hospital. 

Just a couple hours after he had phoned home to tell her hat he’d be leaving set in a few minutes, Y/n had gotten a call. It was the kind she never wanted to receive.

“Y/n Reeves?”

“Yes? Who is this?”

“Ma’am, I’m calling from Los Angeles General, you’re husband has been in an accident.”

Without waiting to hear the rest, Y/n had hung up, already telling Nelly as she shrugged on her coat over the old band tee she was wearing and grabbed her keys. Her daughters, who had gotten more from her than they had from Keanu looked on at their mother with a kind of naivety that told her that they didn’t quiet understand the seriousness of the call. Not that anyone could blame them, they were still so, so young. Their oldest, Rosie was barely three and Taylor had joined their family in a flurry of cries only seven months before. As young as they were though, they both adored their father, maybe, just maybe, a tad more than she did.

With barely a beat to shut off the engine and grab her purse, Y/n was stumbling out of the car, almost losing a shoe or both in the process. With heaving breaths and barely contained sobs, she ran through the glass sliding doors.

Almost everyone’s head raised at her entrance. Probably because she was the widely adored wife of a block-buster movie star. Probably because her hair was a mess and there was spit up on her shirt. Or probably just because of the manner of her entrance. Y/n didn’t care about their reasoning, she only had one goal. Find her husband. “Where’s my husband?” 

After the grueling process of filling out insurance forms and hearing the occasional, “He’s going to be just fine Mrs. Reeves,” a nurse led Y/n to a private room.

On the bed, Keanu laid propped on some pillows, a few cuts and bruises on his face. The worst of it was his left leg, casted up to the knee, “What the hell Ke?” Were the first words that left her lips, tears finally falling as she rushed to his bedside. 

Taking her arm, Keanu pulled her down into a hug, shushing her like he usually did their girls when they cried, “All this for me?” He chuckled.

Pulling away from him, Y/n swatted at his arms, “Don’t make fun of me! I was worried out of my mind.”

“I know,” his chuckles died into a soft smile and he held on to her hands, “One of the nurses said that you hung up on her.”

“Well, obviously! She said you had been in an accident!” Y/n’s shoulders dropped, defeated, “We could have lost you, this isn’t a joke!” She explained, Y/n’s voice breaking with emotion, “If this were more serious, I don’t know what I’d do. Rosie and Taylor, they need a father, they need you. I need you! If I lost you, god,” she breathed, hot tears spilling down her already stained cheeks, “I just can’t okay? So be careful when you’re out there, if not for yourself, for the three of us.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Keanu cooed, shifting awkwardly so he could pull her down next to him, “Don’t cry baby,” kissing her forehead, he mulled on his next words. Just the thought of his family being without him was upsetting, missing the birthdays, the anniversaries, graduations, not seeing his girls grow up and his wife achieve everything she dreamed of, “Listen, if I have anything to do with it, you three are going to be stuck with me for a very long time. I’m going to be right here, at your side while they grow up and we grow old, okay?” He kissed her hair again.

“Promise?” She turned to meet his dark gaze.

“Promise.”

2005 Fuming. That’s what she was. Y/n was surprised that there wasn’t smoke coming from her ears yet. How dare he? After everything! Acting like he didn’t know her at all. It was enough to make Y/n want to just turn around and walk out the front door, slamming it in his face. She might have, if Keanu didn’t beat her to it. 

As Y/n plopped onto the sofa, not really paying any mind to the clutter of children’s toys around her, she tried to take a calming breath and not scream in a way that would wake their sleeping children. 

Lately, it had become almost routine. Bouts of giving each other the cold shoulder and then, when Taylor and Rosie were finally tucked in bed, they’d engage in a shouting match. Taking turns at spatting accusations and insults that they didn’t even mean. Neither of them was sure when it really started. Maybe it was when he had temporarily moved their family to Portland at heel of Christmas, and then, when the girls had gotten sick, Y/n was left alone in their rental taking care of them without an ounce of help. Instead of offering to clear his schedule a little, Keanu had offered the aid of a nanny. Or, it could have been when Y/n had hired a new assistant, nearly twenty years their junior, though he had taken a keen liking to his boss. Offering to bring dry cleaning to their house, buying her coffee every morning and staying late with her when everyone else had left. The advances were subtle, but Keanu had noticed and when he brought it to his wife, she had waved him off, saying that Jack was just a gentleman.

Their latest fight had been more explosive than the others.

Y/n had gotten home just after Nelly had left and dinner had already been put away. From the minute she entered the kitchen, she had noticed the tension in the air. The girls were playing in their playroom and Keanu was just reentering after having a smoke. “I told you not to smoke around them,” were the first words she huffed as she dropped her bags to the counter, “Who was watching them while you were out there?” She pointed, anger growing.

“God, they’re fine Y/n. It wasn’t even in front of them,” he whispered angrily, “They’re playing, I was out there. Didn’t even see the fucking cigarette.”

“So now you’re cursing in front of them?” She fumed, trying to contain her tone. as mad as they were, the last thing they wanted was for the kids to see them like that.

“They’re not here,” he hissed, clenching the pack of cigarettes and lighter in his fist, “You know, if you don’t trust me with them, you should have come home instead of staying at your office to fuck your boy toy!”

“Boy toy?” She quoted. Before Y/n could get another word out, their eldest, Rosie ran in.

“Mommy!” She squealed, hugging Y/n’s legs, “You’re back. We missed you.”

Opting to ignore Keanu right then, Y/n scooped Rosie up in her arms, “I missed you too bunny! Come on, it’s late, lets get ready for bed.”

(2 hours later) With the girls fast asleep in their rooms, loud whispers had turned to shouts, “What do you want me to do?” Y/n yelled, “The firm is just getting off the ground and I’m supposed to be here at your beck and call? I have a life too you know?”

“Oh, I know!” Keanu accused, “How’s it been, living it with Jack? He seems to see more of you anyway, kind of makes me wonder why.”

“God!” Y/n groaned, hitting her fists against the marble counter, “For the last time, I’m not fucking him! He’s my assistant, and he’s been more help in a few months than you’ve been this past year!”

“So this is my fault now?” He tone incredulous, strong arms folded across his broad chest.

“Congratulations! Get the man a fucking trophy!” She mocked angrily, “You say I’m never here, but you leave for months, filming and doing god knows what else. News flash Keanu, if anyone’s cheating, it’s you!”

“Me?” He chuckled, rage evident, “You know what Y/n? I don’t need this bullshit tonight,” he began, walking through the house, collecting his coat and keys.

“Where the hell are you going?” She probed, annoyed.

“Out.” Was all Keanu offered, slamming the door behind him.

September, 2005 Things hadn’t gotten better, but they hadn't gotten worse either. After a night away, Keanu had returned home, wordlessly, moving some of his things to the guest room. They carried on like that for months, fights, teary nights apart and tension filled silence. Whispers had started going around, that one of Hollywood’s favorite couples was on the brink of divorce. Y/n didn’t want to leave him, Keanu didn’t want her to go, but it really didn’t seem like there was anything else left to do.

Until Y/n had spent an hour on the phone with her mother, the first draft of divorce papers opened on her computer, “This isn’t what you want Y/n,” her mother declared plainly.

“You don’t know that,” she huffed in return, “Things haven’t been great lately. All these fights, the accusations. We’re barely holding it together for the girls, I don’t want them to grow up in a home with this much anger.”

“Do you want them to grow up in a home without their father?” She asked and Y/n could swear that she saw her mother siting right there in her office, arms folded, eyebrows raised in question.

“They would still see him. We’d-”

“Share custody? Mhm. It starts with trading them every week. Then he gets a new girlfriend that you don’t like, probably because you’re jealous and you still love him, and then it turns to the weekends. Then, he moves on some more, and it’s every other weekend and you keep going like that until its once a month and, finally a few times a year. That’s not how you’re raising my grandbabies.” Her mother paused for a minute then cutting her off before she spoke again, “And don’t say that it’s what’s best for them. It’s not. I know you. Both of you. That boy is like a second son to me! Are you really going to throw away thirty-seven years over a fight?”

“It wasn’t just one fight mom, it’s been like this for months,” Y/n tried not to sound like she was whining, but she was sure she failed miserably.

“Doesn’t matter dear. Can you really sit in you office on this beautiful Thursday evening and tell me that you don’t love that man anymore? And I know you lawyers lie a lot, but I also know you like the back of my hand and anything but ‘no’ would be a lie.” Y/n was quiet for a while, lost in thought, worrying on her bottom lip, “Well?”

“Well what?” Y/n sighed.

“Can you say you don’t love him?”

Y/n leaned back in her chair, eyes falling on a picture near the end of her desk. One of the first ones taken after they had brought Taylor home from the hospital. She had looked a tired mess, but Keanu had kept saying that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Sighing as thirty-seven years worth of memories washed over her, Y/n realized that her mother was right, “No, I can’t,” she concluded, “I still love him. I always will. But it’s not that easy mom.”

“It is. Just talk to him. And listen too.”

“I tried,” Y/n argued weakly, “But it didn’t work.”

“You didn’t,” her mother objected, “You yelled, you argued and you accused. But you didn’t communicate and you didn’t listen. So get divorce out of your mind, open your ears and get your ass home .”

“Fine,” Y/n grumbled. 

That night, Y/n had gone home and after putting the children to bed, she had flopped down on the sofa next to Keanu, “I fired Jack today.”

“What?” He turned to her.

“You don’t trust him and I shouldn’t have kept him around that long if it was making you uncomfortable,” she explained quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Keanu sighed, “I shouldn’t have accused you of those things and I should have put you in a position that would make you think I’d do that.”

“I’m sorry too,” Y/n laid her hand over his, squeezing reassuringly, “I should have understood that you’re just trying to provide for us, and you’re not gone by choice,” Keanu smiled sadly at her as she declared, “I still love you.”

“I still love you too.”

Winter 2006 Y/n huffed as she stood at the entrance of the cleared out guest room, hands bracing her strained back as she declared, “I’m too old for this.”

Keanu’s eyes widened at the sight of her, scurrying of the ladder, dropping the paint brush as he hurried to her side, “Honey, what are you doing?”

“Checking on you. The last time I left you alone on a ladder we had to go to the emergency room,” she giggled, not acting on his concern.

Keanu placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of the unfinished nursery, “I was fine,” he argued.

“You threw your back out,” Y/n reminded lightly, “It looks nice by the way. I’m actually surprised that you chose that color on your own,” she teased leaning into his side, her hands going to rest on her swollen stomach.

“Thank you. I think,” Keanu shook his head, unsure on whether or not it was a compliment, “You shouldn’t have been in there though, the fumes aren’t safe.”

Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes, “Ke, I love you, but this worry is unnecessary, I’ve been around this block twice.”

“I know,” he agreed, “But this little guy hasn’t,” Keanu rubbed her stomach affectionately. Everyone had been worried when Y/n had conceived over forty, even he had had his doubts. What if they were too old? What if this one was too much younger than the girls? But from the minute he saw the first ultrasound, Keanu knew, it didn’t matter that they had slowly started to go grey, that the doctor had said that there were risks, not of it mattered as long as they thought they could do it. And do it they did. 

“Fine,” she huffed as they descended the stairs.

“I can’t believe that this is the last time I’m going to see you like this,” he leaned his head against hers.

“I thought the last time would be with Taylor but you just had make us go to Prague for our anniversary.”

“Me?” He shot back, hand going to his chest in defense, “You’re the one who was hot for it in the airplane bathroom!”

“What?” Y/n playfully slapped his arm, “Our son was not conceived in an airplane bathroom!”

“I think he might have been,” Keanu carried on nonchalantly, “Don’t worry, it’s a cool story.”

“No, it’s not. And it’s not true either. I refuse to believe that,” she plopped onto the couch, getting to work on folding some clothes from a laundry basket on the coffee table.

“Refuse if you like, but I think it’s true,” he laughed.

“It’s not. Now go get cleaned up or something, you’ll get paint everywhere,” she shooed him. “Bye!” She laughed as he walked off, back in the direction of stairs, waving dramatically.

2007 Y/n stood in the doorway of Rosie’s bedroom, admiring the sight before her. Keanu sat on the bed, Rosie and Taylor on either side of him already dressed in their colorful, printed pajamas, their dark hair falling in their faces and their little hands fought to brush it away. Their son, Henry, barely a year old by then sat against his father’s chest, cubby fingers trying to grab at the excitable pages of the story book. Already, he looked so much like Keanu and the little bits of his father that he had taken on showed up more and more everyday. 

Bed time rituals usually ended in Rosie’s room. Keanu would read them whatever story they pleased, sometimes he’d even make one up if they asked. And then, when they were falling asleep, He’d scoop Taylor up in his arms and hand Henry over to Y/n, tucking their eldest in before they took the other two of to their rooms. 

“Daddy?” Taylor spoke up as he closed the book.

“Humm?” He hummed, preoccupied with Henry trying to put the corner of the book in his mouth. Their youngest babbled in frustrated discontent when Keanu finally got the book, placing it on the near by night stand, far out of his reach. For a minute or two, he fussed but when Keanu started bouncing him in his lap, all signs of sorrow were replaced with tiny giggles. “What’s up princess?” He finally turned to her.

“Can you tell us another story?” She looked up at him, wide eyes pleading in a way that he couldn’t reject, “Please....”

“Yeah,” Rosie clapped her hands, jumping up a little, “Tell us another story daddy! Please! Henry wants to hear one too!”

“Does he now?” Keanu raised his eyebrows, amusement softening to adoration when Taylor started playing with Henry’s fingers, “I guess we can do another story. It is Friday,” he chewed on his lip for a minute and then his face lit up again, “Tell you what; we can have another story, if mommy helps me tell it.”

In the doorway, Y/n folded her arms, giggling and they all started up at her, the girls with anticipation in their eyes, “I guess that can be arranged,” she obliged, stepping further into the room. Taylor crawled out from her father’s side and when Y/n was sat next to him, she shifted into the space between Y/n’s legs. Feeling a little left out, Rosie hopped onto Keanu's free thigh, curling against him, giggling when Henry tried to get on top of her. “What story are we telling?”

“The one about how you met! Nana says it's really romantic!” Rosie sang and Taylor offered her own excited noise of agreement.

“Okay,” Keanu agreed and then he began, “Well, it was thirty-nine years ago and-”

“Thirty-nine years!” Taylor exclaimed, pressing her little hands to her opened mouth, “You guys are old!”

Chuckling quietly, Y/n lightly pressed her pointer to Taylor’s button nose, “Listen to the story monkey.”

“As I was saying,” Keanu laughed, “It was a long time ago, and I had just moved to a new place and my mom, your Nana, took me and your aunt to the park. We hadn’t lived there for very long, so I didn’t have any friends yet.” At that, the girls made a quiet coo of sympathy and not really caring about the whole thing, Henry started playing with the end of his sister’s hair. Smiling, Keanu continued, “I didn’t have any friends, but on that day, I met your mommy at the swings, she had come with her brother and sister.”

“Was she pretty?” Rosie interjected.

“She looked just like you two. So very, very pretty. And I didn’t know it yet, but she’d grow up to be the most beautiful woman I’d ever meet.”

The girls smiled and then Taylor turned to her, “Your turn mommy, did you think daddy was handsome?”

“I thought he was adorable. And a little weird,” she added at the end, “He never liked to cut his hair.”

“You said you liked it,” he scoffed defensively.

“I did! I do!” Y/n laughed, pecking him quickly on his lips, “Anyway,” she continued, “Your dad, came to play on the swing next to mine, and we played together for the entire evening. And as it turned out, he lived just down the street, a few houses away from where Gammy and Papa still do and after that day, he’d come over all the time, and we’d play together for hours.”

“Until it was past dark,” Keanu chimed in, stroking Henry’s hair, “Sometimes Gammy would even let me sleep over.”

“When did you know you loved her?” Rosie looked between them with hopeful eyes.

Smiling softly, Keanu turned to Y/n, meeting her eyes, seeing the same thing he always saw, that still, he could never grow tired of, the sparkle of love, staring right back at him, “I always loved her.” Laughing softly, Y/n blushed for a reason she couldn’t quite understand and Keanu draped his arm over her shoulders, “I just had to grow up to realize how much. And you know what?” he looked between their daughters, “She’s a saint for waiting for me.”

“Oh,” Y/n lightly slapped his thigh, “Your daddy was worth the wait, he’s worth everything. Just like you three,” she laughed and the children giggled when Y/n pulled them into a hug, with Keanu quickly joining in.

“Nana was right,” Rosie began after they finished the story, “It is romantic!”

“It is!” Keanu declared, handing Henry over to Y/n, “But it’s also way past bedtime.” After noises of protest and the ‘I’m not tired’ argument, Y/n and Keanu finally got all three of them into bed. When that was over, they resigned to their own room where Keanu fell face first into bed, patting Y/n’s usual spot next to him.

Smiling, she crawled up next to him, getting under the covers, turning on her side so she could caress his cheek, “You look beat,” her thumb glided over the apple of his cheek while the tips of her fingers brushed against his recently shortened hair; he had cut it for a part.

Keanu chortled quietly, “Well you look lovely as always.” Slowly, Keanu shifted until his face was inches from hers, drinking her in before he pressed a kiss to her lips, his hand skimming her side clad in a silk nightgown. One of her legs hooked over his and soon his hand was slipping under her nightie, groping her.

“I’m guessing you’re not that tired,” Y/n giggled against Keanu’s lips.

“I’m not,” he smiled before moving on to pay attention to the soft, warm skin at her neck. Eventually, with hurried hands, Keanu turned off the bedside lamp, right before he pushed Y/n’s nightgown over her head, tossing it to a place that could be the next day’s problem.

2019 She looked beautiful, she always did. Much like the same woman he married almost twenty years prior, though, by then little strands of grey had started to show up in her hair and there were the slightest hints of laugh lines on her face. It was like she was caught between youth and maturity, aging slowly and gracefully, like the finest of wines. Most of the world had started to consider her a beauty icon, marveling on how, after three children and fifty-four years on earth, Y/n could still mange to barely look her age. Keanu often found himself in awe of her too, and sometimes, it was hard to remember that they had been married for almost twenty years.

One of those times was the night of the premier of his latest action movie, an expected hit in the box office even before it’s release. Y/n strolled arm in arm with him along the carpet, donning gorgeous deep red dress that boasted a high slit on the right side. He couldn’t even blame the photographers for wanting her attention, she looked amazing. 

When they stopped, it was for him to be interviewed by a popular media outlet and the young woman looked as about excited as they both felt, “Hi! How are you feeling tonight? Hope you’re feeling as fabulous as you look,” she gestured to their outfits.

Keanu laughed quietly before; “Well I came with the most beautiful woman here, so I’m feeling pretty great.”

The interviewer laughed and Y/n swatted at his arm playfully, “You did, didn’t you? I must say, Y/n you look absolutely stunning and I’m sure our viewers will agree.”

“Thank you,” Y/n nodded, “But I’m just trying to keep up with all of this,” she gestured to Keanu, who bent his head, chuckling quietly.

The young woman laughed loudly and then continued with her questions, “So, I know tonight is about the movie, but I just have to ask; how do you make it work?”

Keanu’s brows knitted, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you two have been married for almost twenty years, and you’ve known each other for over fifty. It’s been a long time and you still seem every bit in love”

Keanu scoffed a laugh and suddenly the microphone was near Y/n’s face. Smiling, she easily handled they question, “You know, sometimes, its not always easy. We’ve been at each other’s throats a couple times,” Keanu nodded in agreement and they both reflected on a time that seemed so distant, when they thought that their marriage was over. “But when it gets like that, I try to remind myself that it’s us against the problem, that we want the same thing, it’s just that sometimes, we have different ways of getting it. But that doesn’t mean that one of us is wrong, or right, it just that means that we still care.”

“Yeah,” Keanu agreed, “It’s what Y/n said, and you know, I think if it starts feeling like work, like we have to make it work, then we’re doing something wrong. Because this isn’t a job and at the end of the day, all we want is what’s best for out kids, our marriage and each other.”

The interview went on for about another half hour, and for the briefest moment, they talked about their children with proud smiles and eventually, things steered back towards the topic of the movie. At the end of it, the woman offered them a couple more compliments and praises and finally, when it was over, Keanu looked down at Y/n, smiling as he asked; “Ready?”

In response, Y/n nodded eagerly, reaching up to give him a quick peck on the lips. With his arm secured around her waist, Keanu and Y/n continued down the carpet, occasionally stopping for pictures until they disappeared through the double doors, ready to spend the rest of the night, and the next fifty years and whatever came after, not only as an internationally adored couple, but also as two people who loved each other dearly.

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Reliving An Old Nightmare - Chapter 20

<= Chapter 19

Summary : We get to know more about the origin of the time rift. And maybe another element which is probably irrelevant. Or not. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337299/chapters/58413415

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Oh, what do you know, another chapter, yaaay ! Also, I added more than 2000 words to this chapter today, so it's almost the longest one. Not quite, but almost.

Anyway, happy reading !

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Chapter 20

The manor was silent and the air was glacial, just like usual. It was dark, as always. The lonely Queen was in the kitchen, sitting at the dining table. A plate of frozen cookies was just in front of her, completely uneatable. She had done it again.

Vanessa stared at her monstrous hands then to her horrifying shadow visible on the wall. She gritted her teeth as her claws left marks on the wooden table. It was all his fault!

She hated him. But oh, she also loved him so, so much. She knew it didn’t make much sense but it was okay. Everything was fine. Her Prince had abandoned her for years but he would eventually come back to her. She was sure that, one day, he would come back and apologize for everything he had done to her. He would beg for her pardon. Alistel just refused to see the truth, for now, that was all.

Vanessa wasn’t hungry anymore. She barely was nowadays.

With a swift gesture, Vanessa threw the plate on the wall, hitting the place where her shadow was. She stood up abruptly, making the chair slide loudly on the brown tiles of the kitchen. A sudden rush of rage filled her, without knowing why exactly. But it could only be her Prince’s fault. It was always his fault. He was the one who had been seeing another woman, lying to her all this time, using her…

Now she was alone and it was so much better!

It wasn’t, but she tried to believe it anyway. She still longed to see her stubborn lover everyday, wishing he would come back home. Why was he so persistent of staying away from her when they were clearly made to be together? Why couldn’t he see it? She knew they were!

The Queen let out an animalistic growl. She supposed she could only wait for him to realize his past mistakes and take responsibility for it. How long, though? It had been hundreds of years and her dear fiance still hadn’t come back…

The woman huffed and puffed at the broken plate on the floor and to the impact the shock had made on the wall. She didn’t want to deal with it at the moment… In fact, she didn’t want to deal with anything. The Queen left the room, dragging her feet in the manor until she reached her bedroom on the second floor. She wasn’t tired but there wasn’t anything to do when she felt this depressed.

She opened the door and simply lied on the bed, without caring much about undressing. She wouldn’t fall asleep anyway, so what was the point? The Queen just put her twisted shadowy body under the warm covers, hunching her back even more as she did so. She could feel her bones cracking at the movement. Then… She just waited. At least, her dear precious fiance would see her in her dreams if she managed to fall asleep…

Vanessa didn’t expect it to be that easy. But soon, her consciousness drifted away as her body relaxed little by little. When she opened her red eyes again, a few hours later, she felt refreshed for a reason she couldn’t quite place. Her nap had been lively, as she could remember dreaming about something… Wonderful. But she didn’t remember, so it didn’t matter anymore. What mattered now was that she was back in this icy manor, alone, without her loved one to keep her company, even from the basement.

However, when she sat on the bed, she noticed something on the nightstand, something which hadn’t been there when she fell asleep. It was a page of her old diary, which had been ripped off. The said page was already full of her writing. Yet, something felt off: why was it here? She frowned, already thinking of one of the possibilities: did someone dare come into her home? A familiar feeling of anger engulfed her: who would come to her manor and mess with her? She had no intention of letting the reckless idiot leave… Not alive anyway.

But as she clenched the piece of paper with rage, she suddenly realized that something has been written vertically on the edge of the page. The Queen squitted to read it, yet it was a bit too dark to decipher it. She could at least recognize her handwriting, but… She had never written that. And there was no way she would forget something like this!

Very much startled by what she had discovered, the Queen looked clumsily into her nightstand for some matchsticks, making most of them fall onto the floor. Once she held one firmly, she lit the candle next to her and brought the paper closer to the light to read whatever was written on the paper.

However, what she read was very different than everything she was expecting :

“Dear Queen Vanessa, you do not know me yet, but I know you are in great pain. I am offering my services to help you get what you wish the most. Especially who you wish the most. If you are interested, please leave several blank pieces of paper on your nightstand and I will describe how I might help the next time you go to sleep. If, on the contrary, you do not want my help, you just have to burn this page. In that case, I will not contact you ever again. I hope this note finds you well.”

This was all. The woman turned the page over but there were no other message hidden on the opposite side. Her eyes stared at the note in bewilderment: this was clearly a message from someone, but this was her handwriting. Did someone try to imitate it? But what for? And who?

Though, that wasn’t what was occupying the Queen’s mind. The person who wrote this message clearly knew something about her relationship with Alistel. Who were they? A feeling of anger and frustration settled over her as she tried to guess in vain. She had killed everyone, there was no one left who could have given her such a message…

Except for Alistel himself. He knew her handwriting, he knew where she used to keep her diary… But why? This didn’t make any sense.

But it didn’t matter anyway. It was all a joke, wasn’t it? If Alistel was the one who wrote that note… Vanessa was sure he just wanted to mess with her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left after putting the message on her nightstand.

So the woman did the only thing which seemed reasonable at the moment: she held the note out to the fire, ready to follow the instructions on the note if it meant Alistel wouldn’t try to prank her. She wanted her prince to come back and apologize, not to mess with her.

But just before the fire could reach the page, Vanessa stopped. Her arm remained completely motionless, holding the piece of paper in the air. She wanted to burn it, she wanted to destroy this joke… Yet she was unable to. While the rational part of her brain thought her hesitation was stupid, the other part of her mind couldn’t help but formulate a small and quiet “what if?”. What would happen if she left more paper on her nightstand instead of burning the page? What would change?

Would Alistel come back to her? Could it be his way to reach her again?

A few seconds passed, silently, before the Queen lowered her arm, setting the page on the nightstand again. This was absolutely ridiculous, she didn’t even know why she couldn’t destroy a single piece of paper! But she couldn’t ignore the feeling of hope emerging in her. She frowned at all her conflicting thoughts, not knowing what to do with herself now. She felt both nervous and excited at the same time, thinking about the note.

Was it a joke? Or… Was it true? There was only one way to find out.

Vanessa got up, stretching her old body, hearing more and more cracks as she did so. The first thing she did after getting up was fetching a few blank pages and putting them on her nightstand, with a quill and ink. If this was true… Then ignoring such an opportunity was out of the question.

The “day” after seemed to last centuries for the Queen. Well, it was always nighttime in Subcon, due to Alistel’s… Bad influence on the forest. Still, she wanted it to be over as fast as possible so she could get answers. She spent the whole day being fidgety, walking in the corridors of her home just so she could occupy herself. There wasn’t much to do anyway and what she could do was not enough to take her mind off the note.

She couldn’t wait to know. She needed to know.

After an unbearable wait, the woman felt tired enough to go to bed once again. However, she was much too excited to fall asleep right away. She didn’t really know how many hours she had had to wait until she felt her consciousness drift away once again… But after a while, she relaxed and fell asleep.

Once more, she dreamt of something colourful she couldn’t remember when she woke up. Smudges of red, blue, and yellow were all she could recall. But it wasn’t really important to her once she came back to reality: what mattered was the pages on the nightstand. And, just like she had expected, a longer message had been written on the previously blank pages. She immediately lighted up the candle next to her and started to read:

“I am glad to see you are interested in my help. Just like I promised, here is how I can assist you: there is a powerful artefact in Subcon Forest, which comes from a world far, far away from ours. It looks like a gigantic and broken hourglass, which pieces have been scattered all around the forest. Such an artefact can be used to rewind time, from mere seconds to centuries.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened at the words. An object that could rewind time? This… Couldn’t be true, could it? Was Alistel just messing with her again? Yet, she had the feeling deep inside that her prince wasn’t the one behind this.

This wasn’t like him. No matter how much he had possibly changed through all those years without her good influence… Such words would certainly not come from him. But then… Whose words were these? She continued reading, feeling her nervousness replacing her previous excitement:

“However, broken like it is, it is perfectly useless. It simply stays unmoving, untouched by the effect of time itself. But there is a way to fix it. If every part of the hourglass is taken back to its core, the artefact should reform. It is currently huge, but it will shrink back to its normal size. Once it is back to its former shape, I will be able to help you. But… Be careful.”

Vanessa gulped as she read the last sentences, feeling her hands shake from the emotions engulfing her at the explanations:

“Do not break it again. Otherwise, it will be permanently broken and unusable. You do not want that, do you? Once it is complete again, bring it back to the manor, on your nightstand. I will then take care of everything for you. You will not have to worry about a single thing.”

The note ended here. Once again, Vanessa examined the pages thoroughly, but didn’t find any other message. She remained motionless for a few minutes, her eyes fixed on the note before her. Could it be true? Would she be able to fix all of Alistel’s mistakes if she followed the instructions?

Given how stubborn her prince was about accepting his responsibilities… She didn’t have much of a choice, did she? Maybe she could help him to realize that his place was with her, an not with anyone else.

She nodded to herself, before putting the notes back on the nightstand. She stared into space as her mind filled itself with many thoughts. An artefact in Subcon Forest? Pieces scattered all around? She thought about it, imagining all the ways she could use to find them. She couldn’t fetch them in person… Alistel wouldn’t let her cross the broken bridge. However… She still had some ice statues obeying her, even in her fiance’s part of the forest.

This was her only possibility.

She nodded once again, speaking aloud just in case the person helping her would be able to hear her words:

-“I will find those shards and bring the artefact to you once it’s fixed,” she promised, closing her eyes as she spoke.

And sending the ice statues was what she did. Most were successful, others… Not so much. But after a few days, the animated objects managed to bring all the pieces back to the core. She had instructed her statues to be extremely careful with the hourglass, yet she couldn’t help but be a nervous mess at the thought of breaking her only chance of seeing Alistel again.

However, contrary to her fears, one of the ice statues came back, the artefact in his strong and hard hands. It had knocked on the front door and the Queen had rushed to take the object as fast as she could. She then did her best to stay calm, to avoid stupid risks. What would she do if the hourglass hit the floor and broke? She didn’t want all her efforts and hopes to go to waste!

Vanessa looked at the hourglass, filled with wonder at the sight of the shiny artefact. It was filled with a glowy kind of sand. Though, when she saw her reflection on the glass, she stopped examining it. She didn’t want to see herself. Not with her current appearance.

Filled with a whole new determination, she came back to her room with a light skip, too much excited to hold herself back. She hadn’t been so happy since… Since… She didn’t want to think about it. She wouldn’t let her memories ruin how relieved and joyful she felt at the moment!

She entered her room and exclaimed excitedly:

-“I have it!” she said, lifting the hourglass as she continued: “I did it!” But no one was there to answer her. Of course, her secret helper could only talk to her while she was sleeping, right? This was okay. All she needed to do was to go to bed and wait for her body to relax. She could do that!

She gently put the hourglass down on the table near her bed and lied under the cover. She was much too excited to fall asleep but she knew it would happen anyway. In the meantime, she simply imagined what would happen once she would wake up. Oh, she just couldn’t wait! She found herself smiling and giggling under the cover, like a child waiting for Christmas. She was so happy, so overjoyed!

She was going to see Alistel again… And everything would be back just like before.

Finally, after what seemed hours to Vanessa, she felt her mind slowly drifting towards unconsciousness. Just before falling in a deep sleep, she heard an evil laugh resonating in her head, as if she had just imagined it. But she was too tired to pay attention to it and everything went black.

When she woke up,  she had all forgotten about the cruel laugh. She opened her eyes slowly and squinted not to be blinded by the light.

The light? Vanessa’s attention was immediately caught. It was never daytime in Subcon.

She was sleeping in her bed but… It was sunny outside. The Queen could hear birds chirping, people walking and talking quietly behind her door. She was in her room, just like it had been when everything was still fine.

It had worked!

She sat up instantly, looking all around her with wonder and amazement. How could this be possible? It was unimaginable! And yet, it was happening! A nervous and excited laugh escaped from her mouth as she examined everything. And then, she saw her hands, human hands-

-“Oh…” Vanessa felt her eyes water at the realization. She brought one of her hands to her mouth to stop herself from crying… But all she felt was more skin on her face. She touched every part of her head, trying to convince herself that this was real, that she wasn’t dreaming. She could feel her fingers touching hair, her soft blonde hair! Her body was not twisted anymore either!

She laughed gleefully as happy tears rolled on her cheeks: it had truly worked! She was human again!

It is with this thought that she realized the most important thing: if she was human again, then… Alistel was alive again too.

As more tears left her eyes, she heard a soft knock on her bedroom door. The sudden noise made her jump and she stopped touching her face, bringing her hands down quickly. She remained hesitant for a few seconds before finding the courage to talk, and her voice sounded so much more human now!

-“Y-yes?”

The door opened, revealing a face very familiar to Vanessa. It was… Her family’s butler, back when she was alive. She recognized his salt and pepper hair, his uniform, his very straight posture… And the woman remembered his name too.

-“Simeon?” she asked, though very anxious. It had been centuries since her last conversation with another living being… How did one talk to someone else without looking weird?

The man came inside and closed the door behind him. He then smiled at her in a very gentle way and opened his mouth:

-“Not exactly, my Queen,” he replied, always smiling. The woman frowned in confusion but the man quickly added: “I may look like your old servant, yet I am a very different person. How are you feeling?”

This way of talking, his claims…! She guessed who it was. The man in front of her was not her old butler but her secret helper! Her eyes widened at the constatation and the other’s smile grew larger as he saw she finally understood.

-“G-good,” she answered, though speaking was a bit hard for the moment. It was too many emotions at the same time! But she did manage to ask the question that had been on her lips for a so long: “But… Who are you?”

The “butler” nodded, visibly happy of her answer. He then closed his eyes and bowed down slightly in a very elegant manner, before properly introducing himself to her:

-“I am very happy to know I was able to help you, my Queen. As for who I am…”

The man opened his eyes once again, revealing red irises staring directly at her.

-“You may call me Moonjumper.”

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

Vanessa’s dreams had been extremely colourful and marvellous at first. Everything was so perfect! Her lover was brought back to life, his mistake had been fixed, she had even forgiven him! Everything could be just like before! The first day, she had spent hours looking herself into a mirror, changing dresses after dresses, loving how human she looked like. She was amazed to walk in the manor, this house where she had been so alone for years, and see her old servants, alive and well! No intruders she had to murder (because they deserved it of course), but actual people who once were a part of her life!

Then she went outside, to explore the village, the untouched and undamaged village. There were so many people walking right next to her, their smells passing by, children running around while laughing! It was surreal. Everyone had been waving at her, smiling at her! She was being loved again!

Somehow, this made the Queen feel extremely strange. It was like she felt relieved, yet she had no idea why at the time. Simeon, or Moonjumper, had told her it might be quite a shock to see such a different version of the world she had come to know. So, with that in mind, she just assumed that she had this weird feeling because of that.

Her accomplice had also warned her about her emotions and what they could cause but why would he tell her such a thing? She only felt pure happiness at that particular moment! She was so overjoyed! Or, at least, that’s what she had believed until she saw a carriage passing right next to her.

Her eyes met her prince’s, who was inside, and her heart almost stopped at the shock. It only lasted a second, as the carriage quickly faded in the distance, but it had a powerful effect for Vanessa. As for her, she only stood still, staring into space as her mind was full of conflicted thoughts. Seeing the face of her loved one took her by surprise but why wasn’t she feeling so happy at the moment? Why was she so petrified?

The Queen noticed a bit too late that she had stopped moving for a few minutes and that she had been hyperventilating. Her heartbeat was fast and she suddenly put her hands over her chest, trying to reassure herself. Apparently, no one noticed her standing in the middle of the way.

It was fine! Everything was perfect! She had fixed everything Alistel did in the past! So why was she feeling this way?

“I’m… I’m happy!” she told herself as if she was reasoning with her own mind: “Alistel is back! He’s alive again! So I should be happy! Right?”

Though, it didn’t make her feel any much better, as doubts engulfed her. He wouldn’t remember… Would he? She shook her head. No, of course, he wouldn’t! Simeon had told her everything would be perfect, just like she had always wanted! She had the opportunity to make things better for Alistel this time! She would just shower him with even more love so he wouldn’t leave her for someone else!

And… Maybe close a flower shop or two before doing anything, just in case. No one would notice anything anyway. All that mattered now… Was her prince’s love for her and their “happy ever after”. Nothing else.

She then proceeded to run in the direction of the manor, not noticing the small trail of ice she was leaving behind her.

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

Well… That was what she had thought at the time but it had been easier said than done. First of all… Alistel remembered. Not only that but he had remembered everything, even after his death. At first, he had tried to fool her, though, for some reason, Vanessa knew. The way he looked at her, the way he avoided her touches or her affectionate gestures… She knew he had to remember. And when she tried to confront him about this, it had only confirmed her deepest fears.

How could she fix all of his mistakes if he remembered? What if he still wanted to leave her?

Of course, the Queen had come right at Simeon the second she thought about it, but the man had just told her not to worry about it, that it would be solved soon. But how? How could it be solved? She had tried to explain her doubts once again, but… For the first time, her accomplice had stopped smiling and had ordered her to stop mopping and enjoy what he had done for her.

This should have really made her think. But it didn’t. Maybe because she didn’t want to believe that something was wrong.

Then she had snapped at Alistel, only to be strongly reprimanded by her dear friend Simeon. The man who had made her come back to the past had changed his attitude with her so quickly… And somehow, she still didn’t want to even think about the possibility of having been manipulated.

And then… She had hurt her Prince. It was an accident! But the injury was there to prove she had still done it. The way he looked at her, so afraid of her… It had made her come back to reality as she crumpled in apologies. But it was still too late. Guilt crushed her instantly and when Alistel’s parents came into the room… It was too much. All she could do was flee.

It was all she was good for, wasn’t she? Fleeing. Hurting people. Wasn’t it the reason her dear prince left her in the first place? But that thought quickly disappeared as she tried to push the guilty thoughts out of her mind. She was trying to fix things! She couldn’t be the one at fault if she was fixing things!

She spent the whole day crying in her room after that, only to learn a few hours later that her loved one had left her once again. It should have crushed her feelings even more but somehow, it only made her livid. How dared he leave her again? After everything she did to make things right again!

But of course, he came back to her, just like she had expected. But he still didn’t understand. He would never understand, would he? They argued once again, only for Simeon to interrupt them and send Alistel away to scold her once more.

For a moment, she had felt like her mother was standing right in front of her. It only made her feel bad about her new outburst. New thoughts of guilt invaded her mind: “I’m just a failure, aren’t I?”, “it’s wrong, it’s all wrong, what are you doing?” or, the worst one, “he’s never going to love you again”.

But why? Everything she did had been right! Except, the more she tried to convince herself, the faker it sounded to her. And the distortions she had seen everywhere only intensified her fears about Alistel being right. But once again, she shut those thoughts up. Simeon also assured her it was only temporary, that time travel was an unstable process… So Alistel couldn’t be right! If he was, then… Then she had done terrible things for nothing. But it didn’t matter, because what she did had been justified!

Except it hadn’t been.

The dinner she had with Alistel only made things worse. She didn’t want to believe him! Everything couldn’t be fake! She hadn’t been manipulated! Those were all desperate thoughts she had when Alistel argued with her, again. She didn’t want everything to be fake! So she had another outburst, demanding him to leave, because she couldn’t stand looking at his disappointed face anymore.

He didn’t love her anymore. No matter what she would do… He hated her.

The realization hit her with an extreme violence, making her cry more than she thought it would. But it was just the worst thing she could have ever thought about. She cried and cried and cried, only to be interrupted by Simeon.

-“Everything is going to be okay,” he had said to her, rubbing her shoulder in a way that was way too nice for someone who had snapped at her a few hours earlier. But Vanessa didn’t care. All she wanted at the moment was comfort, to hear she wasn’t the reason her dear prince hated her. Simeon said nothing else, just smiled at her and sent her to her room so she could “rest”. She just nodded, giving up any hopes for comfort as she stood up and went to her bedroom.

And then, she cried herself to sleep.

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

Vanessa’s dreams were not happy and peaceful anymore. The more time had passed, the worst her dreams had become. This night was no exception. However, when screams woke her up from her current nightmare, echoing in the entire manor, the Queen panicked, absolutely taken aback. She sat up in her bed, confused, but it hit her after a few seconds.

Those screams were Alistel’s. She could recognize them perfectly because they sounded like the ones when-

“Oh no. Oh no no no no no!”

Fear engulfed her and she jumped out of her bed. Why? How?

She didn’t take the time to dress up and left her room, still wearing her nightshirt. The Queen ran to the stairs, only to be stopped as a figure crossed her path. Simeon.

-“May I know where you are going?” asked the fake butler, wearing an awful smile that only made Vanessa’s fears and emotions worse. Her body was becoming colder and colder as mixed feelings such as confusion, fear, anxiousness and anger were fighting for dominance in her mind. Anger won in a blink.

-“What did you do?” countered the woman, livid. She hadn’t planned this! She hadn’t wanted any of this to happen again!

Her accomplice’s smile widened at her question as if it were just a game for him. He let out a malevolent scoff and he answered, with a light and innocent tone:

-“Nothing!” Alistel’s screams echoed in the manor once again and he had to continue: “Oh, you mean this?”

-“Don’t you dare play dumb with me!” yelled the Queen, feeling her hands grow colder and colder again. Her own scream resonated in the hallway as a light layer of ice materialized on the wall next to her. The Queen jumped and stared at the wall, horrified. She didn’t mean for this to happen!

She glanced at her own hands, guilty, only to notice that they didn’t look human anymore.

-“Wh-what?” mumbled Vanessa, as she stared at her hands in bewilderment and confusion. She glanced back up to Simeon, who didn’t seem surprised. He hadn’t even been troubled by her outburst!

-“I told you to keep your emotions under control,” reprimanded the fake butler as if he were talking to a child: “Go back to sleep, it’ll be gone in the morning.”

Vanessa could see how he was trying to keep her from going down to the basement. It was just painfully obvious!

-“Move,” she warned, as she tried to walk next to him, only to be stopped by his arm taking hers, preventing her from moving further.

-“No, I think you should listen to me,” retorted her friend, with a fake friendly tone, very much threatening: “Your dear prince tried to destroy everything we worked for. He has even been helped by a little girl!” the man laughed at the ridiculous situation: “Well, she almost got me, so she’s not that defenceless. Thankfully, I took her hat away, so she’s no threat to us now.”

He paused and continued, as Vanessa was trying to process what she had just heard:

-“I just put them in the cellar for the night, don’t worry,” he tried to reassure her, though all his words seemed fake: “It’ll all be better in the morning! Go back to sleep, now.”

Hearing about her loved one trying to leave once again… The Queen felt her emotions engulfed her once more, as the air cooled down again around them. He tried to leave her again?

Guilt was crushing her, ten times worse than all she had felt in the last few days. Her body was shaking now and she was hyperventilating again. The only thing taking her back to reality was the moment Simeon put his hands on her trembling shoulders.

-“Come on, Vanessa. It’s going to be okay, I promise,” said her accomplice with a sweet little voice: “Trust me. I promise everything will be back to normal tomorrow!” Then, he added with an evil voice: “Or are you going to keep destroying all the things I made for you? Is this what you’re going to do?”

The words hit Vanessa like a train. She wasn’t a failure! She wasn’t! She just wanted to make things right!

Tears started to appear on her face as she simply nodded her head, unconvinced by his claims. How could everything be back to normal after this? Alistel would never forgive her.

He had never forgiven her anyway.

-“Good!” exclaimed the man, smiling again: “Let me take you back to your room, then!”

Simeon guided her back to her room, while she simply obeyed, devastated by everything happening around her. And when she heard her prince’s screams echoing in the mansion again…

She knew she couldn’t delude herself anymore. She had to do something, even if it had to be in Simeon’s back. She had always wanted to fix everything, only to hurt more and more people in the process… And now, she had an opportunity to make things right. A real opportunity to fix not Alistel’s mistakes, but hers.

She couldn’t lie to herself anymore.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Chapter 21 =>

[bennyboyjones]

The Getaway (Ben Hardy Fanfic) Chapter Three

A/N: Hi! So, here is chapter 3 to my Ben Hardy AU Fanfic! There are currently several chapters written, which you can find on Wattpad, but I’ve decided to also upload it here as well. It might be a bit behind, but you’ll still get all the chaps eventually.

What it is: basically, a girl from a small town who is bored of her life decides to take a trip to Nice where she runs into ben, who is also running away from some shit and some romance ensues.

Word count: 3.9k

in this chapter: FLIRTING AND MAYBE A DATE?

WATTPAD LINK IF YOU WANT TO READ AHEAD

Spotify playlist

In case you missed it: MASTERLIST

here we go:

day three

I woke up thinking about him, the same way I had yesterday. I had a feeling it would last all day and I would spend every moment looking for his face or the back of his head because that’s what had consumed me the day before. The difference was that today I would actually call him.

Yesterday would’ve been too soon and I was afraid of looking too eager or desperate. I was so out of practice when it came to meeting someone new that I didn’t really know what the proper etiquette was or how long was too long or too short when you’re expected to call someone. I had managed to talk myself out of basing my decision off late 90s and early 2000s rom-coms because the three day rule seemed way too long as I was already slightly impatient to talk to him again; and I was worried that if I waited too long he could potentially meet someone else or take my lack of eagerness as a sign I wasn’t into him—which could’ve been potentially devastating.

I also spent yesterday trying to grip back onto my sanity. I spent my day at the beach, laying on the rocks, trying to get some sort of tan and attempting to convince myself that I wasn’t that into Ben. Rationally, I couldn’t be; I had met him once, talked to him once, and that was under the influence of alcohol. I had been with a guy for years and didn’t remember feeling like this, which made me really think about what I was doing with Liam for so long when I could’ve been feeling like this with someone else.

I called my mom that afternoon and expressed all of this to her; I told her that I thought I really liked him, which was insanity because I didn’t even know him, how I felt like a hormonal fourteen-year-old who was experiencing a crush for the first time and slightly desperate.

“You’re not desperate, honey,” she assured me, “you’ve just been stuck with dead weight for far too long. This is the first romantic experience you’ve had in a long time.”

I sighed, knowing she was right. There had been nothing romantic about my relationship with Liam, at least not for the past year and a half. It was kind of sad, now that I looked back on it. Even the sex was slightly platonic and I couldn’t believe I had let it go on for so long. “When should I call him?”

“Tomorrow. He’ll have gone a whole day thinking about you, wondering if you’re going to call. It’s good to leave them hanging for a bit.”

So I took her advice and waited until today. My plan was to call right after I woke up, that way there were plenty of opportunities for us to meet up: breakfast, a day at the beach, a walk, lunch, dinner.

I pulled my phone off the charger and dialed the super long number—I assumed it was a U.K number because there were way too many digits for it to be American and I couldn’t see the point in him getting a French number for only a few weeks.

I clutched it close to my ear and waited for it to ring, but it didn’t. Instead, there were several loud beeping noises and an automated voice telling me that this number was out of service. I felt my heart plummet into the pit of my stomach as the embarrassment flooded my cheeks.

He gave me a fake number, an out of service number. I sat on the edge of my bed with both my phone and the piece of paper in my hands, my eyes moving between the two. A fake number. I was so into this guy, with his charming smile and gorgeous eyes and great laugh and he, apparently, wasn’t into me at all. Did I read the whole situation wrong? I couldn’t wrap my brain around the idea that he would buy me a glass and then ask me to have a drink and then went so far as to settle for a coffee and talk to me for almost an hour, all without being the least bit interested in me. It made no sense.

I tried the number again, this time being super careful about punching in the numbers, making sure I didn’t miss one. Again, the same voice told me the number was out of service. Well, that was tragically disappointing.

As much as I didn’t want it to, the disappointment had ruined my mood. I no longer wanted to explore or sit in the sun or even stuff my face with pastries. All I wanted to do was wallow and, in my favor, it was raining. I could’ve just thrown on a rain jacket or grabbed an umbrella and still have done something fun today, but I didn’t. Instead, I stayed in my oversized QUEEN t-shirt I had worn to bed, made a coffee and sat on the floor in front of doors to the balcony and watched the rain.

I felt slightly melodramatic; this wasn’t some huge heartbreak. I even felt a little guilty for feeling this let down over a guy I didn’t even know when I barely mourned the final ending of a two and a half year relationship.

Despite the guilt, I found myself wondering what Ben could be doing, if he felt bad about giving me a fake number, if he had thought about me at all. I perked up when I realized there was a possibility that hadn’t crossed my mind: he made a mistake. He could’ve written the wrong number down; some people have two phones, I rationalized. They often have one for work and one for personal use. Maybe he gave me his work phone by accident! Then it would make sense why it was out of service because he doesn’t work there anymore and therefore would no longer need the phone or the number. I wondered if he realized his mistake and if he was disappointed that I couldn’t call him or if he was hoping to run into me again to make it right.

I knew that even the joy this new theory brought me was overdramatic; I was being so silly, acting as if I had never liked a guy before, as if this was the first person to ever take interest in me—like a complete amateur, pining over a guy who probably didn’t even really care about my existence, but if felt good. It was fun to be this emotional and it was something I hadn’t done in years. Well, I did it a little in London when I had small crushes on cute boys I had met at pubs but I never let myself fall into a feelings hole this deep; I was still technically in a relationship and refused to cross the line physically or emotionally. But now, there was no line to cross and I was free to feel as dramatically as I pleased.

I thought about going out and looking for him but quickly shot my own idea down because searching for him meant aimlessly walking around for hours with no real idea of where he could be. It would have been a major waste of my time, but so was sitting on the floor watching water fall from the sky.

I got ready in a rush; threw on a ‘The 1975’ tee, black jeans and my clear raincoat, didn’t bother with any makeup and left my hair in their natural waves, tucking my bangs behind my ears since they weren’t styled. I threw on my white sneakers, grabbed my umbrella and shoved my wallet into my back pocket before leaving the warmth of the AirBnB.

I wasn’t going to look for him. I was going cafe-hopping since there was nothing better to do on a day as miserable as this. I was going to fill myself to the brim with caffeine and pastries and if I just so happened to run into Ben then so be it (and if I didn’t, I was sure I’d have to find a way to derail another melodramatic sit down but I’d worry about that later).

It was five cafés later and so far, I had no luck. My hands were already shaking from caffeine overload when I settled into a chair at Brassiere L’Olympia. It was small, on the corner a  block or two from where I was staying. It had a deep red awning with gold trim, a pale yellow front and a large gold doorknob that my hand barely fit around. There was no one else inside and upon my entering, the woman behind the counter called, “No food, only coffee.” I nodded and took a seat all the way at the back of the beige room, right next to the windows that looked out on the street. It was almost evening and the rain was still coming down hard.

I decided this would be my last stop before swinging back to the apartment to grab the two reusable bags I bought and heading to one of the grocery stores. I still hadn’t bought any snacks or foods I could pack for the days I spent at the beach and for the past two nights I suffered at the hands of my midnight snack withdrawals.

I ordered a noisette like I had at the last five spots, feeling myself become slightly nauseous at the idea of downing another but it was only €2.50 and I was fully committed to the cause, despite my growing disappointment. I hadn’t seen Ben, or anyone who had looked like him the entire day and I finally let the hope slip out of me and settled on the idea that he could’ve easily stayed inside today or that he was wherever I was not.

Again, my mind went to him and the way he looked in the dim glow at the restaurant and I tried remembering what his voice sounded like but it was hard.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

I jumped in my seat, the voice breaking my stare down with the lamppost across the street. When I turned my head to see who it was, I almost started laughing. Just when I had given up, I found him; of course, when I stopped looking.

“Happy to see me?”

“Something like that,” I tried to subdue my smile as I motioned for him to take the seat across from me.

“You didn’t call.” He shrugged off his jacket and put it on the back of his chair before taking a seat.

I spun my cup in a circle on its saucer, not meeting his eyes, “I did, actually. It was out of service.”

He acted surprised, “What?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started fiddling with whatever was on his screen.

“It’s okay,” I held up my hand, “You don’t have to make some big show about it. I can take a hint—I mean, I guess I can’t since, you know, I was kind of surprised it wasn’t real. I thought we, I don’t know, got along really well—“ I was slightly nervous and babbling. Sure, I had convinced myself that he made a mistake when he wrote down his number, but what were the actual odds of that? In my mind, they were very very low and the more likely reason the number was out of service was because he intended it to be.

“No, seriously, that can’t be right,” he interrupted me, “you must have done it wrong.”

He read out his phone number and my eyes grew wide.

“Wait, did you say, ‘three’?”

“Yeah, I said, ‘three’. What else could it have been?”

“An eight!” I laughed in relief and pulled the small piece of paper out of my back pocket and placed it on the table in between us. “Look!”

“That is obviously a three. Just admit that you didn’t actually call me and that you’re trying to get out of having to explain yourself.” He threw the paper back on the table and picked my cup up and took a sip.

“Trust me, I called—twice.” After the admission left my mouth I immediately wanted to take it back.

He raised his eyebrows, “Twice? Hm.” He leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the table, crossing his arms, “That makes me feel a bit better about waiting for your call; decreases the damage to my ego.”

“You waited for my call?” I leaned forward, taking on the same position as him.

“Of course I did; I’d be stupid not to.” His eyes never left mine as he brought my cup to his lips the second time. After a moment of us staring at one another, he pointed down to the cup, “I should get you another one of these.” He raised his hand, about to turn around to get the woman’s attention but before I could stop myself I put my hand on his forearm.

“You definitely shouldn’t. I’ve already had five; if I have another I’ll have a heart attack.”

“Five?” He rested his hand on top of mine, “Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“Your hands were really shaking,” he said while maneuvering the umbrella between us.

“I told you, I had five.”

We were walking with no where to go. Once he saw the state my hands were in, he asked if I was interested in getting dinner and, without hesitation, I said yes. I made the assumption that this was a date, but was too afraid to ask for confirmation. I was slightly aware of the fact that I probably looked like a wet dog, having spent the whole day going in and out of the rain, while he looked like an actual god. His hair was brushed back off of his forehead, he was clean shaven, in dark jeans and a light grey crew neck sweatshirt, an army green raincoat thrown over top. His eyes looked just as they did the other night: sparkling green and clear—I wanted so badly to kiss him. He looked kissable. I was sure I looked like a disaster and with every step, regretted not putting makeup on or doing my hair. One or the other would’ve balanced me out but instead, I could feel both my wavy hair frizzing and my un-mascara-ed lashes drooping down.

I always tried to be one of those girls who preached about not looking good for anyone but herself and believed that a guy should like me for the way I looked without makeup and not just deem me fuck-able when my lips were painted blood red—but, I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel better about myself when I was wearing lipstick or when my lashes were curled or when my hair was done perfectly. I felt prettier and more confident when I looked a certain way and that was my cross to bear.

I could feel the insecurity weighing on me in the way I covered my mouth when I laughed and let my bangs hang slightly over my eyes but I needed to shove it away because that wasn’t the girl he had met in the restaurant. She wasn’t the girl he had asked to have a drink.

“Interested in some crepes?” He pointed at a sign for a small crêperie .

“For dinner?”

“Why not?”

I shrugged, not being able to argue. He held the door open for me and lightly pressed his hand into my back as we walked through the door. We both ordered two; I chose one with lemon and sugar and one with a caramel filling while he went with hazelnut spread for both.

“Surely they have Nutella in the States?” He questioned when I told him I wasn’t big on hazelnut after he offered me a bite of his.

“They do! But I’m not really into it.”

“Not into Nutella? I don’t know if this is going to work out.” He let out a breath as if my dislike of the spread made things between us extremely awkward.

“So there’s something here to work out?” I smirked.

He winked, “Could be.”

I felt my cheeks flush and didn’t know what to say.

The idea of something happening between us made butterflies launch themselves around my stomach. It seemed ridiculous, considering we were complete strangers and anything that started between us couldn’t last; we lived an entire ocean apart. It would never be anything more than a fling and I was more than okay with that. What girl didn’t dream of a fling in Europe? This was a fantasy that was meant to exist solely in easy reading romances, where the girls had lives I lusted over and the boys were described as being so charming and beautiful that they didn’t really exist.

“So,” I started, while he was in the middle of taking a bite, “why advertising?”

He shrugged and finished chewing before answering, “The money, mostly. I had planned on going to school for business and advertising was what I was best at. Also, it was the only bit that allowed a little creativity.”

“If money wasn’t an object, what would you be?”

“An actor,” he broke eye contact with me and his face turned a light shade of pink. “I always wanted to do something like that, be in plays or movies, but financially, it’s not very feasible.”

“I get it. I mean, being a writer isn’t the most financially stable profession either. Do you like advertising?”

He sighed, “At first I did, but not anymore. The hours are long and even if I wanted to try to do something on the side, I can’t. It’s kind of become my entire life.”

“I know the easy answer is to say that you should just quit, but I also know that it’s usually a lot more complicated than that.” I laughed lightly.

“It’s not. I did.” He smiled at my surprised expression.

“You quit?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of why I’m here. I don’t know what to do now.”

“Ah, running away. I’m good at that.”

“Well, cheers to running from our shit.” He raised his glass of water and clinked it against mine. “Want to grab a real drink?”

This time, I didn’t turn him down.

He paid our bill and after I thanked him, we walked out of the crêperie and into the cool air.

We walked close to each other, so close that our arms and fingers brushed against one another with every other step. Each time I felt his fingers swipe against mine, it felt electric, a small tingle shot through my arm and something inside me fluttered. I wondered how long we would let this go on, whether he would move away so we no longer touched or finally grab my hand.

We walked past several bars and restaurants and I started to wonder where exactly it was we were grabbing this drink. “Are we going somewhere in particular?”

“Yeah.” He smiled at me before pushing his fingers through mine and holding my hand.

We walked for the next few minutes in a comfortable silence just enjoying each other’s company. His palm was warm against mine and his fingers were long and his skin wasn’t rough but it wasn’t as soft as mine. Every few steps, he brushed his thumb over my hand reassuringly and I couldn’t stop blushing.

When he stopped, it was in front of a small grocery store.

“Oh.” I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“Disappointed?” He asked as he squeezed my hand.

I shook my head quickly, “No! Just…confused?”

“Come on,” he said before pulling me inside.

He took us straight to the wine section and pulled two coteaux bourguignons off the shelf before moving on to grab some fruit, bread, and cheese. I had figured out what his plan was, slightly worried that we would be taking these things back to wherever he was staying. I admit, I wanted to kiss him, I wanted to do more than that, but technically, this was a first date and I wasn’t about to fuck him after hanging out with him for only the second time.

The last thing he grabbed was garbage bags, and when I gave him very confused and concerned look, he said, “We need something to sit on.” I nodded as if my confusion had completely evaporated with that simple explanation.

After a small argument over who would be paying for the two armfuls of supplies (I wanted to pay because he paid for dinner but he argued that since it was his idea and this was an extension of our first date that he should pay—and frankly, his argument was too good to deny), he lead us towards the promenade and took us down the steps to the rocky beach.

“Is this allowed?” I whispered as we walked over the rocks.

“Probably.” He shrugged.

When he found a spot he liked, he pulled out a plastic garbage bag from the pack and placed it on the ground like a picnic blanket. It was raining anymore, but everything was covered in a thin layer of water. Once he had that set, he took everything out of the bags, one by one, arranging it all a very specific way.

When he caught me staring and trying to stifle a giggle, Ben gestured towards his setup, “I’m just trying to make it as perfect as possible. I’m doing my best!”

“The garbage bag is perfect, I swear! It’s…cute.”

He opened the wine with the opener he bought and poured it into our paper cups and waved at me to take a seat next to him. We opened our snacks and started munching in comfortable silence despite the crepes we had inhaled only an hour before.

It was dark now, the only light coming from the flashlights of our phones we had placed in between us. We could hear the waves lapping against the store but could barely see them. There was a chill in the air, as the breeze was amplified closer to the water and I felt myself shivering slightly. We were sat against the wall of the promenade, hidden away from any on lookers.

“Come here,” he said when he noticed my slight shiver and pulled me into him. We sat with our backs against the wall, his arm around me, looking in the direction of where the water would be if we could see it. His body was hard against mine, signaling to me that I was right about how fit he was and I felt the muscles in his arms flex every time he moved it slightly. He rubbed his hand up and down my arm trying to warm me up as we slowly sipped our wine.

“This would be a lot more romantic if it wasn’t so bloody cold.” He laughed.

I hit him lighting in the stomach with me free hand, “Stop! I think it’s just the right amount of romantic.”

“Hang out with me tomorrow.”

“Was that a question?” I turned my head to him to see that he was already looking at me.

“Not really.” He smiled, “Come on, you know you want to.”

“Fine.” I leveled him with a smile of my own.

[jessahmewren]

“Birthday Boy Seeking Party Guests” / Queen / Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction

Summary: Tired of spending birthday’s alone, John posts an ad on Craigslist hoping to spice things up.  Set in the 2000′s.  

Rating E for Everyone be aware here be smut.  

Pairing: Poly

Word count: 7,556

Also on Ao3

-0-0-0-

John erased what he’d written for what seemed like the tenth time, squinting at the screen on his laptop. He cracked his knuckles, taking another sip of wine.  The bottle was more than half gone, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.  It was the weekend, and he was spending it, like every other weekend, alone in his flat browsing the internet.  

The wine settled in his bones, making him feel warm and heavy and a bit giddy.  He opened up the Word document where the Craigslist Personal’s ad he’d been fumbling over for the past half hour sat half written.

“I am a single male seeking three men for a one night stand at my flat.  I have no other preferences other than that you be reasonably good looking and clean.  I will send a headshot and directions when you send one.”  

Wait.  The fuck?  That sounded really off and vain.  No way should he be writing this while drunk.  Or, he thought miserably, writing this period.  But anyway.  

“I am a single male seeking three men for a one night stand at my flat. I am fit and disease free; please be the same.  Details to be follow.”  

Was that better, he wondered?  Worse?

“I’ve never done this before; I’m not weird or even kinky…just a normal guy wanting to have a good time for once on his birthday.”  

There, he thought. That sounded nice and normal, not scary like some of the other ads (seriously, the one asking for the fart buddy was a little out there…).  He copied the ad and, before he could chicken out, pasted it into the text box.  

He titled the ad “Birthday Boy Seeking Party Guests” and hit submit before he could talk himself out of it.

John checked his Myspace briefly before closing the laptop.  His cat, Gwyneth, coiled around his legs.  He reached down to stroke her ginger fur.  “Again, lovely?  You’ve already had your dinner,” he cooed fondly.  He reached for a bit of chicken from the fridge, leftovers from his own meal. “Just a snack, now.”  The cat was an absolute unit, and he couldn’t afford her getting any fatter.  

He put the wine glass in the sink, nodding off slightly as the water ran.  Gwyneth waddled off to her cat bed, sniffing it delicately before she sank into the pillowy softness.  John smiled at her as he switched off the light and shuffled off to his bedroom.

As he lay down beneath the covers, he thought of his little Craigslist ad, and smiled.  

--

Freddie woke up early for once, silencing his alarm on his phone and stumbling to the teapot.  He put the kettle on and grabbed a lemon strudel before settling on the couch and opening his laptop.  

Craigslist was still open from the night before where he had entertained himself with reading the personal ads.  It was one of his favorite past times late at night…sitting with a bag of crisps with his legs crossed reading some of those wacky adds.  As his kettle hummed, he decided to scroll further down the page.

He landed on John’s ad, and something made him smile.  “I’m not weird or even kinky…” Freddie laughed at that.  Why yes you are darling, you’re asking for a foursome for your birthday!  Still, his smile never faltered.  He clicked on the user name and opened up his email program.

“Hi John, I’m Freddie.  I AM weird and VERY kinky, and would love to come to your birthday party ;). I have attached a headshot. Cheers.”

He hit send and closed the laptop. His kettle was boiling by now and he poured himself a cuppa. He thought about the email he’d just sent and sighed.  It wasn’t likely he was going to get a reply, and if he did, he was up for it. He hooked up regularly with no problems.  This time was likely to be any different.

--

Brian cursed to himself. He was late and the computer labs at the university were always nearly full around lunch.  He had a paper due in two hours.  Maybe he could swing it.  

He found one open kiosk in the corner and settled in front of it, plugging in his flashdrive.  After an hour of typing, Brian closed the document and submitted it to his professor.  One more paper, one more assignment closer to his PhD.  He took a moment to relax and opened up his Hotmail.

After a few moments of aimless clicking and deleting, he opened one of his Craigslist notifications. Unfortunately, the amp he had wanted for his guitar was already sold.  He clicked the link anyway, the website opening in a new window.  He browsed the website a bit, eventually landing on the Personals section.  

He entertained himself for a while, admittedly enjoying the sexier ads.  And then he read John’s.  

Something about it struck him as honest, and Brian could respect that.  Brian considered the prospect of fucking three other guys, a little thrill running through him.  What would that even be like?  

He decided, like a good doctoral researcher, that he needed more information.  He emailed John.  

--

Roger was drunk (and maybe something else).  His limbs were loose, and he couldn’t feel his lips.  An easy euphoria fell over him, throbbing in his skull in time with the pulsing music and the girl riding his lap.  The friends he’d come over with were somewhere else, but there were others here.  So many people just walking around him as this girl fucked him right here on the sofa.

“Lay back baby,” She said as she rode him, steadily lifting herself off of him, the wet squelch of her tight heat lost to the music and the chaos of the open room. She was pretty in an odd way, Roger thought.  His body felt like it was on fire, and he felt the involuntary response of his orgasm winding its way to completion.  

He gasped, coming inside the condom as she giggled and contracted around him.  He was panting hard, his heart racing.  Whatever he had taken was too much, he thought, too much this time.  He felt sick. He pawed at the girl as she chased her own climax, pushing her off just as she came, nibbling at his sweat-slick skin.

“Thanks for the fuck,” she said as she slid off him.  She pulled up her panties under her skirt and wobbled away.  

He sagged back against the couch where no one seemed to pay attention to him, feeling used.  Tears stung his eyes, and then someone called his name.  

“Hey Roger, you done fucking around?  Come play this game with us.”

He raised his head, the whole room swimming.  Gingerly, he made his way over to the small gathering.  There were shots set up in front of a laptop.  Greg, the leader of the group, pushed Roger down in a chair.

“It’s youngest against oldest, and Rog, you’re the youngest.  Whoever does the least amount of shots has to answer one of these Craigslist Personals ads.  I’ve put them all in a random name generator so it’s totally fair.”

Roger felt sick.  He knew he’d had too much to drink already, and there was no way he would win.  He stared the other man down anyway.  

Greg counted them out. “On your mark, get set, go!”

Roger started downing shots until he declared he’d had enough.  He was nearly blackout drunk when they pulled the virtual lever on the random name generator.  The ad title that came up was “Birthday Boy Seeking Party Guests.”

Roger was passed out on the couch when Greg sent the email to John along with a fetching photo of Roger smiling with friends while wearing his favorite sunglasses.  Greg was sure to add, “you can’t tell, but my eyes are blue ;).”

--

John forgot about his little ad until the following evening, when he was coming home from the repair shop and remembered that he should probably check his email.  He picked up dinner, fed Gwyneth and did just that, deleting the spam and adverts and noticing, to his surprise, several emails from Craigslist users.  

He omitted some right away…not on a superficial bases, but just based on how they sounded.  Bossy, arrogant, or their emails gave out a creepy vibe.  The next one he clicked on was a bloke named Freddie.  

“I AM weird AND kinky…”  John laughed at that.  That was mild compared to some of the other things he’d been told.  It was rather endearing, actually.  As the pic took forever to load, he thought Freddie might be interesting to get to know.  

Then the pic finally opened and John’s mouth flew open.

Black, lustrous, shoulder-length hair framing the most stunning face…tan skin stretched over sharp cheekbones and jawline and those piercing brown kohl-lined eyes.  He was easily the most exotic person John had ever laid eyes on.  He was immediately attracted to him.  

John hit reply and began typing.  “I love your headshot.  This may be a little forward, but would you like to come celebrate my birthday with me?  You would be my first guest :).”  

He gave him the time and place, included a headshot, and hit send, hoping for the best.  

The next email was a bit longer and more thoughtful but just as intriguing.  

“Hi there.  My name is Brian.  I am a college student getting my PhD.  I saw your ad on Craigslist and I must say I am intrigued.  I have never done anything like this, either.  I would be interested in helping you celebrate your birthday if you provide a safe, clean environment in which to do so.  Please provide photos of your flat.”  Thanks –Bri”

John smiled.  How considerate to think of a safe environment. Bri was definitely getting an email. He replied to Brian and included photos of his living room, kitchen, and bedroom (he left the bathroom out for reasons). Thankfully he had just tidied up. He also included a headshot.  

The next email that caught his eye was from Roger.  When the pic loaded, he was stunned to find a beautiful blond man with a winning smile standing in a group of friends.  

“Hi! My name is Roger.  I saw your ad on Craigslist.  You can count me in!  Just send me the time and place.  Also, you can’t tell, but my eyes are blue ;).”

John smiled at his enthusiasm.  He attached a headshot, gave him the details and hoped he would hear a little more from him.

John switched over to his Myspace and made a post for the first time in a long time.  “Happy for new adventures,” it said with a sticker. And for the first time in a long time, he was.

--

Freddie was late, and he had just enough time for tea and maybe to check his email before he was needed at Splash, the high-end fashion boutique where he worked.  He scrolled through his messages on his phone, reading a few replies, when one from Craigslist user John caught his eye.    

“I love your headshot.  This may be a little forward…”  

Freddie smiled at that.

The pic finally loaded, and Freddie’s mouth watered at the sweet sight.  A young man, early twenties, long brown hair, lovely green eyes, and the sweetest smile stared back at him.  There were secrets in that smile, he thought, and Freddie wanted to find them out.  

So Freddie had a date with not one but three other gents.  He better get to work so he could find himself something new to wear.  

--

“I want a double mocha latte, no whip, no drizzle, but soy sub on the milk,” the customer spouted off dryly, and Brian just nodded.  He’d been working as a barista at Starbucks to help pay his way through college, and while things could get a little crazy, he mostly liked it.  “No problem,” he said as he tried to smile.  “Name please?”  

The teenage girl grinned. “Princess of the Universe.” Brian’s face fell.  “Alright miss I’ll try to fit that on the cup,” he muttered as he turned to make her coffee.  

At his next break, he sat in the back and played Angry Birds on his phone until his email notifications pinged.  John from Craigslist had written him back.  

“Hi Bri! This is John. I really enjoyed your email and appreciate you thinking to ask about a safe environment.  That is really important and is honestly something I would do. I have included the requested pictures of my flat.  Thankfully I had just tidied up (haha).

The flat was neat and clean. Very homey.  There was a fat orange cat nestled on the couch in one of the pics, and it made Brian smile.  The headshot John had sent was of John in profile, looking out a window. His green eyes were luminous in the sunlight, and his long brown hair was pulled back over his shoulder.  There was a slight smile on his face.  

Brian hummed as he looked at it, eyes going over the smooth skin of the young man’s neck and where that skin stretched over the juncture of his jaw and cheek.  He was lovely.  

“Brian!  You’ve got customers!”  

Brian muttered a curse to himself.  

“I’d very much like to attend,” Brian found himself typing. “Send me the details.”

--

His head was pounding, and the afternoon light of his bedroom hurt his eyes.  Those were Roger’s first cognizant thoughts as he gradually returned to wakefulness after coming home last night and passing out on top of his sheets.  

He doesn’t remember coming home, really, or how he got home.  But he assumed Greg and his friends dumped him off here after he woke up on their couch.  

It didn’t matter, not really.  He stumbled home like this a few times a week and he invariably always recovered.  

Roger peeled himself off the mattress, dragging himself into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He endured the light so he wouldn’t miss the toilet, and when he passed the mirror, he paused.  

There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.  His face was puffy, his hair in disarray.  He looked older somehow, and he swore under his breath.  Shit had to get better than this.  

He peeled off last night’s clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot spray wash off the filth and sketchy memories.  Stepping out of the shower, he toweled off and put on a pair of sweats.  He had a few hours before he had to be at his bartending job at a local nightclub, so he decided to forego the tea and head straight for the coffee.  

He settled into the couch, letting the weariness leech from his boned into the cushions.  Sipping his coffee, he checked his email, frowning when he got a notification from Craigslist.  

“What the hell,” he muttered to himself, opening the email to find the top half of a picture loading.

It was a young man with soft green eyes crinkled at the edges, a wide smile and long brown hair. Something caught in his chest, something warm and fluttery, as he looked at it.  

The email was underneath.

“Hello Roger!  I’m John. I’m excited that you want to attend my birthday party.  You’re my third guest, so that makes four of us, lol ;).  I’m sending you the date and time below along with directions to my flat. I can’t wait to meet you in person. :).”

What the actual FUCK.

And suddenly it all came flooding back.  The shot game, the lost bet.  Roger’s heart sped up.  Was he going to a foursome?  Were they all dudes?  His mouth went dry.  While Roger had always been attracted to men, he had never actually slept with one.  He swallowed.  Could he actually do this?  

FUCK.  

--

There was no Emily Post etiquette guide for hosting a foursome, so John decided to wing it.

As he stared down into the homemade pasta sauce, he reasoned that food was a good move.  Food brought people together, and togetherness brought sex. John smiled, satisfied with his ingenious if rather simplistic reasoning.  He stirred the sauce, pausing before adding the browned ground beef. What were the odds that one of them was a vegetarian?  He shrugged and dumped it in.  Not too high.

The doorbell rang and John nearly jumped out of his skin.  It was 6:05, and his guests weren’t due until 6:30.  He frowned, turning the burner on low and moving to the peephole.  

There, on the other side, was the same face he’d viewed in the email, only in living color.  The sharp cheek bones, the elegant nose, the kohl lined eyes.  John couldn’t get the door open fast enough.  

“Freddie,” he almost breathed.  His heart was beating fast and he self-consciously smoothed the hair around his face.  

Freddie’s eyes flicked down to his chest, then back up to his face before he smiled, stepped into his space and smoothly kissed him, steadying his chin with the tips of his fingers.  

John returned the kiss before breaking away, sputtering a little before getting his bearings.  “Do you…do you always greet strangers like that?”

Freddie laughed smoothly. “No, silly.”  He looked down, then back up at him, one neatly trimmed eyebrow cocked slightly.  “But I’m excellent at following instructions.”

John flushed, remembering his ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron, and ushered him inside.  “Um, can I get you something to drink?”  

“I dunno, can you?” Freddie said smoothly as he walked through the living room of John’s flat, taking in every detail.  He was impeccably dressed, John thought as he tracked him through the space.  He stirred the sauce, leaving it to simmer and reached for a bottle of red wine, pouring Freddie a glass.

He handed it to the man who took it gratefully.  “Something smells yummy.  You didn’t have to cook, darling.”  

John smiled, flushing at the epithet.  “It’s just pasta.  It’s nothing.”

Freddie settled on the couch, balancing the wine glass on his knee.  “I hope you don’t mind that I arrived a little early.  I always arrive early to these sorts of things.  It keeps me safe.”  

John nodded.  “That’s smart actually.  I don’t mind at all.  I’m just glad you came.”  

Freddie waggled his eyebrows over his wine glass.  “I always come.”  

John’s blush deepened, and Freddie laughed.  

“I can’t help myself, darling, you’re just so damn cute when you do that.”

John lowered his glass. “Do what?”

“Blush like that. It’s precious.”  

The two of them sat there for a few moments when Gwyneth took that opportunity to rub against Freddie’s leg.  

“What a baby!”  

John laughed as Gwyneth stretched and meowed, looking up at Freddie with affection.  “I think she likes you.”  

Freddie cooed and scratched her head.  “I think I’m in love.”  

--

When Brian arrived, John was busy straining the pasta, so Freddie got the door.  

“Hello, darling,” he said brightly.

Brian looked at Freddie blankly.  “You’re not John.”  

“Come on in!” John called from the kitchen, and Brian side-stepped the man at the door a little nervously to meet the man in the kitchen.  

“Um, sorry darling, but as I was about to say, “I’m Freddie.”  

Brian looked down at the enigmatic man who had a delicate hand stuck out for him to shake.  He took it.  

Brian pressed his lips together.  “Sorry about that earlier.  I uh…I was just expecting John.”  

Freddie patted his arm. “It’s alright love.  We’re all a little jumpy.  Just meeting and all that.  But John is lovely. He even cooked.”  

John appeared behind Brian, a dish towel over his shoulder.  “Hello,” he said.  “I’m John.”

Brian shook his hand, noticing the calloused fingers.  The young man was trim in figure-hugging jeans and a crisp blue shirt that brought out the green in his eyes.  Brian swallowed hard.  

“Brian,” he said a little thinly.  

John smiled, and it went straight to his gut.  “I hope you like pasta Brian.”  He walked to the counter and poured him a glass of wine.

Brian took it from him. “I do actually.  Just no meat sauce.  I’m a vegetarian.”

John looked horrified. “Fuckity fuck,” John he said allowed. “How about a salad?”  

Freddie howled with laughter, the outburst so loud it scared Gwyneth under the couch.  Brian just smiled softly, laying a hand on John’s shoulder.  “That actually sounds lovely John.”

Brian made his way to the couch, followed closely by Freddie.  The other man was observing him very keenly, taking in the softly curling hair and the sharp nose framing the delicate face.  Brian was dressed very casually compared to Freddie, but he was no slouch.  His neat jeans and tan blazer suited his slim physique very well.  

John stared at the clock. It was crowding seven now, and Roger was nowhere to be found.  A little pang of worry stabbed at his heart.  It was possible that he might not show, and that was fine, but he was certainly looking forward to meeting him.  He thought of the blue eyes the photo had hidden that he would never get to see.  

Instead of worrying, he busied himself with plating the pasta and salads.  Brian met him in the kitchen, setting his wine glass down. “Let me give you a hand, John.” His smile was genuine and warm, and John found that he liked it very much.  

With two working it took half the time, and everyone had their food.  Freddie looked around at the empty place setting and frowned. “Where’s number four?”  

John worried his lip. “I don’t really know,” he said honestly. “I’m sure he’ll make it.”  

Freddie smiled sympathetically.  “Sometimes they don’t love.  Nerves and all.”  

Almost on cue, there came a tentative knock at the door.  John stood a little too fast before settling himself down enough to answer it.  He knew before looking through the peephole who it was.  

Roger was dressed in a fashionable leather jacket and matching pants that hugged his figure. His trademark sunglasses were in the collar of his frayed t-shirt, no doubt purchased that way.  His hair was messy-chic.  John couldn’t stop staring at him until those blue eyes popped up to meet his.  “You’re John?”  

“Y-yeah,” he stammered out. “Nice to meet you Roger.”  Roger shook it rather limply as he breezed into the living room, not giving John more than a glance.  He stiffened when he heard voices from the kitchen.  

“There you are!” Freddie called out to him.  “Thought this was going to be a threesome.  And while that’s still lovely, I do hate it when plans change,” he pouted.

Roger turned rather haltingly to face the other two men who had been eating and chatting, getting to know one another.  Brian pointed to the open seat at the table, and Roger took it.  

“Mind if I smoke John?”

John liked his voice…soft but still masculine.  It made his stomach flutter.  And while he smoked, he usually didn’t smoke inside because of Gwyneth. But he supposed—

“That’s fine,” John finally said.  He watched as the fire from the lighter illuminated his fine features; he was certainly very beautiful, this Roger.  

“I made dinner,” John offered, hoping to start a conversation with the man who had said very little since he arrived.  

“Not hungry mate. Thanks though.”  

John frowned a little, and Freddie cleared his throat.  

“Well I’m Freddie, and this is Brian,” the ever talkative Freddie began with the introductions.

“Roger,” the newcomer mumbled around his cigarette.

They resumed eating and things grew quiet and bit awkward as Roger sat there smoking while everyone ate. He was very closed off, like he didn’t want to be there.  John would need to get to the bottom of it if things progressed.  

“Now that we’re all here, I’m a true bottom,” Freddie said matter-of-factly, “so I hope there are some tops among us.”  

John nearly choked on his penne, and Brian had to pat him on the back, a fond smile on his face.  “It doesn’t matter to me either way,” Brian said, his face growing hot.  

“Me neither,” John said quietly.

Roger took a bored drag on his cigarette.  “Top,” he muttered.  

Freddie’s eyes grew wide. “Really…”

Roger snapped his gaze Freddie’s way.  “Yeah, that’s right.  Is that so hard to believe, you wanker?”

Freddie put his hands up in defense.  “No reason to be nasty, love.  Just took me by surprise is all.  You just give off…bottomy vibes.”

Roger stubbed out his cigarette in his empty plate.  “What the FUCK is that supposed to mean?”  

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Nothing darling.  Forget it.”  

Roger had stood, fists balled at his hips, and he was gyrating with anger.  John and Brian were looking on, wide-eyed, wondering where all of this would go.  

Until Freddie stood and hugged the man.  

Roger relaxed into his grip, his head dropping to his shoulder.  He sighed, arms relaxing at his sides.  

“Darling, it’s alright,” Freddie soothed against him.  “It’s all alright now.”  

And when Freddie pulled away, he kissed him softly on the lips.  

Roger hummed in surprise before relenting into the kiss, letting his mouth go pliant against the other man’s and enjoying the faint hint of tomato sauce and chapstick on his tongue. When Freddie released him, he sighed.

“Why—why did you do that?”

Freddie reached up to thumb at his chin.  “Darling, you looked like you needed it.  When’s the last time someone hugged you?”

Roger’s eyes stung with oncoming tears, but he willed them back down.  His lack of an answer was enough for Freddie.  

“Let us take care of you tonight,” he said sweetly.  “Show you true affection.  Make you feel good.”  

“Yeah,” Roger found himself saying.  It sounded so nice, after all, to be truly wanted and cared for, if only for the night.

Brian and John were beside them now, and John leaned in and lay a hand on Roger’s arm.  “Are we ok?”  

Roger nodded, feeling much more at ease.  “Yeah, everything is fine.”  

John smiled.  “Let’s clean up, yeah?  Then maybe we can move this into the bedroom.”  

--

“You uh…You mind if I just watch for a while?”

Roger had gotten his shirt off, and then nerves had taken over.  Freddie was on all fours, moaning into John’s talented fingers as he opened him up, his heavy cock straining with need.  

John shot him a smile. “Sure love.  Do what you’re comfortable with,” he said as he punched another moan out of Freddie, twisting those fingers inside of his tight walls.

Roger eased off the bed before a hand grabbed him.  “Hey,” Brian said, hazel eyes soft with lust.  

Roger swallowed, the tall man’s kind smile making him feel instantly at ease.  

He smiled, his heartrate going down a bit.

“Where are you off to?” Brian answered innocently. He was crowding his space, the bare skin of his chest now flush with his as he bent his head to nose at his hair.  

“That chair in the corner,” Roger said softly.  “I was gonna watch.”

Brian placed a little kiss to his hair.  “Not gonna play?”

Roger’s throat was dry, and he was straining in his trousers.  “Not right now,” he trailed off.

Brian kissed further down the side of his face.  “Pity,” he said as his hands traveled over Rogers bum.

“You ever had a really good blowjob, Roger?  One that makes you feel like you’re exploding into a billion stars?”  Brian finally reached his mouth and locked lips with him, his tongue curling around his, kissing him so deeply it stole Roger’s breath.

Roger moaned in spite of himself, leaning into Brian’s touch.  Brian released him, never breaking eye-contact.  “Well, have you?”  

He answered him truthfully. “I guess not,” he said a little breathlessly.  

Brian smiled.  “That’s what I was hoping you would say.”

“Can you take a fourth finger baby?”  Freddie just moaned, gripping the sheets as he tossed his head back.  John slid it in, delighting in the way Freddie just fluttered around him, drawing him in like he was born to take it.  He worked his fingers in and out of him, hitting his prostate to make him moan.  The sound of Brian going down on Roger was in his ears and it home to John that this foursome dream of his was really happening, this little birthday fantasy of his was real.  

John pressed kisses into Freddie’s neck, making sure his fingers kept up a steady pressure. Freddie just moaned—he was so vocal—and thrust his hips up to meet his fingers.  

“Need your cock,” he finally breathed.  “Give it to me John.”  

Roger shivered as Brian circled the head of his cock with his tongue, licking the slit before descending on him again.  Brian took him all the way to the base, his nose buried in the dark blond hair there, Roger’s hot length stretching his throat with every bob of his head.  

Above him, Roger was coming undone.  He was making little keening sounds as Brian played with his balls while sucking him off, moaning and sputtering that he wouldn’t last long.  It didn’t matter to Brian.  He loved this.  

The man grabbed a handful of his hair just before coming hot and full down his throat, his back arching prettily.  Brian swallowed him down, finally pulling off him when he was sure he was finished.  

Brian dabbed at his mouth as Roger looked at him with a little bit of awe.  

“You good?” he asked Roger as he sat back on his knees, smiling up at him.  

“Incredible,” Roger sighed. “That was better than X.”  

Brian frowned.  “X?”

“Ecstasy? The party drug?” Roger looked perplexed that the man had never heard of it.  

He dug in his pocket and produced a little baggie and handed it to Brian, who pushed it away.  

“Sorry mate, but I’m not down for that.  Brian looked nervously over his shoulder.  John doesn’t look the type either, so I’d put that away if I were you.”

Roger stuffed the baggie of pills back into his pocket.  “Do I look like the type?” he said as he zipped up his fly.  

Brian just sat there, thinking.

Freddie had one hand on his leaking cock, stroking it in rhythm to John’s thrusts.  His head was pressed into the mattress, and he was having the time of his life.  

“Harder John.  Fuck me harder babe.  Like you mean it!”

John loved how vocal Freddie had been to begin with, but now he was being outright bratty.  John hitched Freddie’s hips higher, angling them so he could aim directly at his prostate.  Freddie’s body was slicked with sweat as was his own, so maneuvering them was no easy feat.  He pulled out of Freddie and then slammed back down again.  

“God yes that’s it lover,” Freddie mumbled into the sheets as he set up a blistering pace, wet flesh slapping against each other as he John chased his release.  Freddie was furiously stroking himself, so it wouldn’t be long for him.  Through Freddie’s plaintive, sharp moans, he could feel the crest of his orgasm stop right at the edge.  He tightened his grip on Freddie, emptying into the condom as wave after wave of pleasure gripped him.  Somewhere through the fog he heard Freddie come right after.  

Brian followed Roger into living room, where he was trying to collect his things.  “You’re leaving?”

Roger turned on Brian, his hands on his hips.  “I don’t have much choice, now do I?”

Brian shrugged.  “You always have a choice.”

“I don’t belong here,” Roger said, shaking his head.  “I’m not even gay.”

Brian’s eyes widened. “Are you sure about that?”

Roger shook his head, withdrawing the little baggie of pills.  “Ah fuck it,” he said as he poured a few in his hand.  

Brian approached him slowly. “I can’t let you do that, Roger. Take those pills.  Not on my watch.”

Roger clutched the pills in his hand tightly to his chest.  “What the fuck do you care, Brian?   You’re just some guy who blew me off.  You don’t know me?”  He was vibrating with rage, his eyes wide.  “You don’t own me!”

Brian shook his head. “Listen to yourself.  You sound like a child.  We’re talking about drugs, here, Roger.  You could seriously hurt yourself.”  

“Yeah well, I hope I do,” He spat.  

Brian had no choice. “John!  Freddie!  I need you in here!”

The two of them came rushing in, John in a robe and Freddie struggling into pants.  “Brian, what’s wrong?”  

“Roger has drugs,” Brian got out quickly.  “Ecstasy. He’s about to take some.”  

Freddie stepped forward between them.  “Oh darling that shit is hell on you.  You don’t want to do that.  Tell me what’s up.”  

Roger relaxed a little. “Nothing,” he whispered. The pills were sweating and melting in his hand.  “I just needed to get out of my head for a little while.”

John was watching the proceedings, trying not to panic.  No way did he want drugs in his house, but he also didn’t want to see Roger hurt.  

Freddie nodded.  “I so understand that love.  That’s why I hook up a lot.  Sex helps me forget some nasty things in my past and some things that are going on in my daily you know?  It’s a nice escape.  Plus it’s legal and it doesn’t hurt me as long as I’m safe.”  

Roger’s hand relaxed a little on the pills.  “Yeah that makes sense,” he conceded.  “I’m glad you have that.”  

Freddie nodded again, getting close enough to Roger to smooth some of the hair that hung around his face behind his ear.  Roger seemed to lean into his touch.  “Did you enjoy your time with Brian, him?  Freddie couldn’t keep the wicked smile from his face.  “Sure sounded liked you did.”  

Roger smiled then. “Yeah it was really nice.”

“I bet.  Might have to see how nice it is, huh Brian?” Freddie said as he threw a wink over his shoulder at Brian who just laughed at him, shaking his head.  

Freddie grabbed Roger’s hand.  “Give me these darling…they’re all melted now, anyway.  Come have some fun with us instead.”  

Roger’s lips were dry as Freddie pried the pills from his grip.  “I’ve never…I’ve never been with a man,” he admitted.  

“A virgin?!” Freddie gasped, “Oh our boy’s a virgin…we’ll have to take extra special care of him won’t we boys?”  

Freddie discreetly handed off the baggie of pills and the few tablets to John who promptly went into the bathroom to flush them.  

“Yes,” he said as he stroked his face.  “We’ll take extra good care of you love.  You won’t have to worry about a thing.”  

--

Brian stroked the young man’s face as John worked on the fly of his dark jeans, easing them down his hips. His cock sprung free…no pants underneath, and John smiled, stroking him lightly.  Freddie hummed, squeezing Brian’s buttocks as he wrapped an arm around his waist.

“You sure you’re ok with this Roger?”  John’s voice was husky with want, his eyes flicking up briefly from the young man’s cock to his blue eyes where they looked down at him expectantly.  

“Yes,” Roger said, leaning into Brian’s hand on his face, his eyes fluttering closed.  “I want this.”

Freddie smiled, tightening his arms around Brian.  They walked Roger back until his legs touched the bed.  He sat down, easing onto the soft comforter while they helped him scoot back.  Brian was between his legs in an instant, easing between his thighs to skate his hands along his chest and arms while Freddie cradled his head in his lap.  Roger’s eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted in a pretty bow, and John bent to kiss them, unable to help himself.  

Roger sighed, giving himself over to the kiss, letting his tongue dart out to meet John’s as his arms strained against Freddie hands.  At some point, the dark-haired man had pressed his arms down into the mattress.

Roger panicked for a split second, then the thrill of the restraint sank into his bones, and he truly felt free.  

“That’s it baby,” Freddie soothed, “Just let go and let us take over.”  Roger stared up into the man’s soft brown eyes, feeling a strange sense of peace.

Brian was making slow circles on his hip, thumbing the sensitive skin there.  “Roger,” he said softly.  “Do you want to top?”  His hazel eyes bore into his.  “It’s your first time.  It’s easier that way.”

Roger worried his lip. “No,” he said firmly.  “I want to do it like Freddie did.”  

Freddie smirked a little, still stroking his hair.  “I knew it. He’s a natural bottom.”  

John giggled a little, tossing Brian the lube.  “Open him up nice and slow Brian.  Your fingers are slender.”  

John crawled over to Freddie, pulling his head up and kissing him firmly.  Freddie groaned into John’s mouth, letting his hand slide up his chest.  “Up for round two love?”  

John just hummed.  “Maybe.  Maybe not. On your knees, True Bottom.”  John pushed Freddie down on his knees, smacking his bum on the way down.  Freddie fell forward, grunting as he hit the mattress, landing on all fours.  

He shivered as John climbed up behind him. He could feel his warm breath on the back of his thigh, whispering over his bum as John’s hands settled there.  He parted his cheeks, and Freddie hardly had time to catch his breath before John had licked a hot strip up the cleft of his buttocks.  

“Fuck!” Freddie cried out, his whole body jerking under John’s mouth.  John smiled against him, and Freddie felt the wry grin against his skin.

Brian eased a pillow beneath Roger’s hips, watching Roger for any sign of discomfort.  He betrayed none; he seemed as relaxed as he did when Freddie was cradling his head.  Indeed, Freddie had now clasped the blond’s hand while being eaten out, a look of sheet bliss on his face, and Roger gripped it tightly.

“We’re going to do this very slowly, Roger.  It will feel different at first, but then it will feel good, ok?”  

Roger nodded his head, taking in a breath.  

Brian tutted.  “Don’t hold your breath love.  Blow it out for me.  Just try to relax, ok?  I’m not going to hurt you.”  

Brian smiled at him, and Roger returned it.  Brian had the sweetest, most genuine smile, and while he didn’t really know the man, he knew instinctively that he could trust him.  

He warmed the lube in is fingers before circling Roger’s entrance with smooth, calculated movements, relaxing the tight muscle.  He pushed one in, and Roger jumped a little.  

“How does that feel Roger? Talk to me.”  

“Different,” he breathed. “Not bad.”  

Brian smiled.  He began working the finger in and out of Roger rhythmically until he felt Roger relax around him, then he added a second.

Roger jerked, a little half-moan escaping his lips.  Brian cocked an eyebrow.  “Is that better?”  

“Y-yeah,” Roger stammered. “It’s ok.”  

Brian aimed for his prostate, finding the little bundle of nerves in moments, and Roger nearly folded in half.  “Just ok?”

Roger was panting, a fine sweat on his brow, and he unconsciously thrust onto Brian’s fingers. “So good,” he said, his grip on Freddie’s hand tightening.  

Freddie preened.  “Look at you baby boy—ahh—taking those fingers so well.  I knew you could do it.”

Freddie looked ruined, very near coming, and the sounds coming from John were bordering on obscene. Roger couldn’t see him, but whatever he was doing to Freddie it sounded like he was enjoying it.

Brian twisted the fingers against him, making him writhe and squirm, until he added a third.  

Roger winced at the sting, the stretch of a third finger, but Brian was gentle in coaxing him open. He was leaned over him, planting little kisses on his collarbone, his throat, and finally smothering his moans with his own mouth.  It all felt so intimate, not at all like his drug-fueled shags.  Tears began to spring in his eyes.  

Brian noticed immediately. “Roger, am I hurting you?  He lost the fingers immediately.  “Talk to me, Roger.”  

“No,” Roger choked out. “Give me more please.”  

John laughed as he was helping Freddie clean up.  “You’ve got him begging Brian.   So beautiful for us.”  

The fingers returned, a little rougher this time, a little more insistent.  Roger’s legs were open wide and he was almost swallowing Brian’s hand.

“You’re ready, gorgeous. I think my work here is done.” Brian withdrew his hand, wiping it on his thigh, and met John in the middle of the bed.  He kissed him deeply.  “You have him nice and open for me?” Brian murmured softly.

John nodded.  “He’s all yours.  I bet you can get him to come again.”  

Brian squeezed John’s arm, locking eyes with him.  “Be gentle with Roger.”

John blinked up at him. “Of course Bri,” he said, using his sign off from his email.  “I wouldn’t dream of hurting him.”  

Brian smiled.  “I know.”

John crawled over to Roger, who was still red-faced, his chest heaving.  He leaned over him, giving him a tender kiss.  “Hello love.  Don’t you look ravishing like this?”

John cradled his face in his hand, then trailed it down his chest to tease at a nipple.  “I’m going to take good care of you, yeah?”

Roger only nodded, his eyes half-lidded, lips kiss-swollen and irresistible.  

John slid on a condom, coating it with lube.  He pressed against Roger’s open entrance, letting his cockhead push at the rim.  He looked up at Roger.  “We don’t have to do this.  It’s up to you.”  

Roger shook his head. “I want it,” he said throwing his back into the pillow.  “Give it to me.”  

John pushed gently inside, watching Roger’s intake of breath, is fluttering eyelids at the sudden onslaught of being filled.  He gave him a moment to adjust, the vice-like grip of him around him, hot and incredibly tight driving him mad with the need to move.  

“I’m ok,” Roger said finally.  “Go ahead.”

He had one arm over his face and his lip between his teeth, but for his first time he was taking cock so well.  John basically made love to him…slow, measured strokes, his face buried in his shoulder and his hips undulating over his.  He had one hand on Roger’s cock, slowly stroking it in time with his thrusts.  

Then Roger started kissing him…hungry, desperate kisses that made the fire rise in his blood.  That, coupled with the feeling of how bloody close they were, their bodies nearly fused together, made John want to give it to him just a little harder.  

“Hitch your legs around me baby.  Come on, that’s it.”  John increased his pace, and little whines started coming from the back of Roger’s throat.

“You doing ok?”  

Roger nodded furiously. “Gonna come,” he managed.  

Freddie and Brian rolled over close to the couple, Freddie taking over for John by working Roger’s cock, and Brian sweeping the hair back from John’s neck and placing an encouraging kiss there.  

John could feel his own orgasm building, a tightly packed explosion of euphoria ready to burst at any moment. It was finally punched out of him when Roger looked up at him with those blue eyes and said “Just let go…” He had been the one who had been so careful with him, but it finally took permission from Roger for him to get release.  

With Freddie’s help, Roger came right after.  

The four of them lay beautifully spent, bodies sweating and coming down from their highs.  Roger lit a cigarette and shared it with Freddie.  

“We never cut the birthday cake,” John mused.  

Brian laughed.  “What time is it?”  

Someone looked at their phone.  “10:20.”

Roger smiled.  “Well, it’s still your birthday.”  

John laughed.  “Indeed it is.  Who’s up for some post-coital cake?”

Freddie grimaced.  “That does not sound right.”

They all tumbled out of bed toward the kitchen where John dished up the plates and began serving cake.

John flushed.  “Um, before you go, you’re free to use the shower. Freshen up a bit if you like.  Or, you could stay over…”  

Something flashed in their eyes, and they all shared a look.  

“I’m actually off tomorrow,” Freddie said.

“I don’t work until nighttime,” Roger added.

“My shift at the coffee shop doesn’t start until ten,” Brian replied.

John brightened.  “Well, that’s great!  I mean, I wouldn’t want you traveling so late and all.  Let’s take our cake back to bed, shall we?”  

John gathered up the plates and began to traipse back to the bedroom, but as soon as he got out of sight, Freddie grabbed a piece of paper and put his phone number on it, then gave it to Brian and then Roger and let them do the same.  At the bottom, he wrote “Happy Birthday” with a heart and stuck it on the fridge for John to find later.  Then, all three of them followed John back into the bedroom to finish their cake.

-0-0-0-

[killerqueenmachine]

Gonna take me to the Oscars or nah? - PART 2

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Reader, Gwilym Lee x Reader

Words: 2000 words

Prompt: None Summary: In a few bold seconds you decide to send Joe Mazzello a DM on instagram. To your surprise he replies and suddenly you are meeting up. The meeting doesn't completely turn out how you had imagined, but in a fortune turn of events you end up meeting Gwilym Lee as well. The two of you hit it of as if you were soulmates - and maybe you just so turn out to be.

Warnings: This is a fluff-fest and I'm not even partly sorry. Also alcohol.

Note: In this fic 'reader' is taller than Joe Mazzello, yet shorter than Gwilym Lee, which means somewhere between 175cm (5'9) and 188 cm (6'2). Everything written in cursive is a text/something written.

__________________

A few days had passed since Gwilym arrived at your place and you had loved every single moment the two of you had spent together. Joe was still there with you too, and while you thought he was hilarious and you loved spending time with him, or with both him and Gwilym together, there was just something indescribably magic about those sacred moments that Gwilym and you had had together. Joe had noticed the chemistry between you and Gwilym too and he couldn't stop teasing you about it.

"Joe.. Stop it. Nothing's going to happen - he's way too good for me anyway" you stated, forcefully placing a six-pack of beer on your coffee table.

Luckily, Gwilym wasn't in the living room with the two of you. He was situated in the kitchen, per your order, getting a bunch of snacks ready. Joe stopped whatever he was doing by the couch, folded his arms sloppily over his chest and popped his hip out, looking at you very judgementally.

"What do you mean way too good?"

"You know what I mean… Don't even get me star-"

"No. In fact, I don't know what you mean. You've been an amazing hostess these past few days. You're funny, you're thoughtful, beautiful, intelligent, caring, attentive.. I can't really see which part of you is the 'not good enough' part"

A wave of complete silence flooded the room. Nothing but the clinks from the kitchen and the deep breathes the two of you had going on could be heard. Both of Joes eyebrows were lifted, partly in annoyance, partly in shock. He couldn't believe he had just said all of that - even though he meant every single word. Defeated, you sat down on the arm of the couch.

"I.." you sighed before you lifted you face, trying to catch Joes eyes.

"Uh… Thank you for.. Yeah. All that. But.. I don't know, Joe. Something just feels… strange and I can't explain it and I don't want to explain it. It's not like anything special is going to happen. The mere fact, that the two of you agreed to come here - and to bring me to the most prestigious event in the world is… too much for my brain to handle. I can't possibly be expecting to get any more out of this adventure." You mumbled.

You felt yourself blush but quickly you shook your head, not wanting to ruin the night. It was supposed to be fun and enjoyable. It was your last night together before both of the boys went back home and then it would be a whole week until you all met again, the day before the big show.

"I'm sorry for saying all that.. That wasn't necessary" Joe whispered.

You replied with a shy smile, making your way to him, gently placing a kiss on his cheek. In that exact moment, Gwilym walked through the door.

"Uh.. Oh, am I interrupting something?"

You swiftly turned around to face him, profusely blushing even though you hadn't done anything that should've made you blush.

"Absolutely not, mate. I just told this little missy to stop doubting herself and I thanked her for being such a great hostess these past few days" Joe calmly said as he rubbed your upper back before he walked over and patted Gwilym's shoulder.

Something about Gwilym's face made you feel uneven. He starred at you in a way you had never seen before and his otherwise beautiful lips were forced into a thin line.

"Are you okay, Gwil?" you asked softly.

He just nodded and suddenly his face relaxed a little again.

"Uh, yeah. Snacks are ready" he mumbled, turning around and walking back to the kitchen. You quickly followed him, leaving Joe alone in your living room. You gently squeezed his hand on your way out of the room.

Gwilym started picking up a few bowls of sweets and chips. You stood in the entrance, blocking his way out.

"You seem a little off, Gwil. Is everything okay?"

You were genuinely concerned that you had done something that upset him. You weren't going to lie, you had felt some sort of spark between the two of you, but you hadn't put too much thought into it, given that you didn't want to get disappointed. Gwilym put down the bowls he had previously picked up and turned around to face you. His swift motions made you feel a little uneasy - he looked really serious.

"Everything is fine, bub. I just.. I think I got a little too involved in everything and I might've misread some signals. And you and Joe obviously have something going on, but I just thought that-"

"What are you on about, Gwilym!"

You had abruptly cut him off and now the two of you were just standing, two meters apart, staring at each other in complete silence. You didn't really know what to do, your natural response would be to crack a joke, but this didn't really feel like neither the time nor the place to do so. Gwilym took another step closer to you and grabbed both your hands in his.

"How about.. We go back to Joe and throw down some beers? I think.. I think all of this might call for some beers." Gwilym said with a shy smile on his lips.

What was going on? You couldn't really wrap your mind around everything that was happening.  You couldn't even audibly answer Gwilym's question, you just nodded and went to the fridge to grab another two six-packs.

"I think this whole thing needs more than a few beers" you shyly laughed as the two of you followed each other back to the living room where Joe was patiently sitting in the couch.

Joe snickered when you dumped down beside him, placing the beers on the table in front of you. Gwilym mimicked your movements and dumped down beside you after placing the snacks on the table.

"Emotions are hard, huh?" he asked with a sly smile prominent on his face.

"Shut up, Mazzello" you warned as you learned forward to open three beers. You passed one to each of the men beside you and placed the last against your lips.

"Cheers" you mumbled, before swallowing a big part of the cold beer.

The hours went on and the beers and snacks went down while the three of you talked your asses off. A very innocent game of truth or dare had played out between the three of you too, much to everybody's enjoyment. All of the beer bottles were empty, which meant that each of you must have had six beers. The amount of alcohol in your blood had made you even more emotional.

Honestly, by now you had a really hard time understanding everything that was happening to you. You were sitting on your couch with two of your biggest idols, one of which also happened to be you biggest celebrity crush. He could barely be considered a celebrity crush now that you actually knew him. He was more likely just a good old regular crush now. You had been snuggled against him a little during the evening. Nothing too crazy, but just the small touches like resting your head on his shoulder or handing him beers or snacks or whatever.

"I'm going to the bathroom" Joe announced, getting up from the couch leaving Gwilym and you alone for the first time since the incident in the kitchen and before any of you even had the chance to say anything, you felt tears stream down your face. You didn't feel like you were actively crying, but you most certainly felt the water on your cheeks. Everything had overwhelmed you. Meeting your idols, lounging around with them - and in about a week they would have you flown to LA to be a part of the biggest award show ever. It was way to much for you to cope with. 

"So.. About the - oh my God, are you okay?" Gwilym franticly asked while he placed his hands on your shoulders in an effort to calm you down. You couldn't even answer him. It felt like all air had been sucked out of your body alongside all your muscles and everything else. The reality of the whole situation had hit you like truck and it all got too much for you. Maybe everything got a bit enhanced by you being both tipsy and tired. You leaned forward, resting your head against Gwilym's chest, letting him embrace you.

"I'm sorry.. I'm okay I just think the whole.. Reality just hit me" you mumbled into his chest and you felt him softly nod, placing a soft kiss on top of your head.

"I'm really sorry for just.. Crying like this. And I'm sorry for making this situation weird.. Sorry for crying on your beautiful sweater and sorry for overreacting and sorry for getting too tipsy and I'm just.. So sorry that-" You rambled on for way too long, but you didn't know how to stop. Gwilym gently pulled you away from his chest to look you in the eyes instead.

"Stop apologizing! If... If you say sorry one more time I'm going to kiss you" Gwilym said. It was probably supposed to sound like a threat but to you it sounded like anything but a threat.

"I'm.. Sorry" you whispered.

Gwilym softly laughed. He gently placed his hand on your cheek, softly rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. You leaned against his touch almost melting into it. You felt Gwilym's face slowly move closer to yours and right before his nose brushed against yours, you closed your eyes and leaned forward to meet his lips. Your hands moved ups his torso before they found their way around his neck. He pressed his lips against yours a little harder causing you to fall backwards swiftly followed by Gwilym, who seemed to be glued to your lips. The kiss deepened and before you knew it, the two of you were completely devouring each other.

"Alright then" Joe laughed as he re-entered the living room.

You and Gwilym darted up from the couch, both of you gaining so much momentum that you ended up standing up, quickly shuffling a meter apart. Joe erupted in a loud, hearty laugh which made all the blood in your body rush to your cheeks.

"Went faster than I thought it would. I would've placed my money that you guys would've waited at least until the Oscar afterparty." he judgementally said with a huge smile on his lips.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Gwilym nervously rub the back of his neck and glancing at you.

"I.. I don't even know what to say" you shyly laughed.

You reached out to grab Gwilym's hand and stepped close to him again.

"Close your eyes if you hate PDA, Mazzy-boy" you laughed.

Joe returned the laughter and jokingly placed his hands over his eyes. You gently tugged on Gwilym's shirt, silently asking him to lower his head. He obliged to your silent command and a fleeting moment later your pressed another soft kiss against his swollen lips. He returned the kiss and you felt him smile against your lips, which caused you to smile back. You pulled back and felt your heart flutter like mad.

"Goodnight boys" you laughed, swaying your hips a little extra as you strutted out of the room.

"Thank you for introducing me to her… She's.. Everything I've been looking for" Gwilym whispered to his friend, still completely mesmerized by your hips from when you had left the room.

"No worries mate" Joe laughed, clearly satisfied with his accidental matchmaking service.