#old man on his hotel bed after working for ten hours

[madsmilfelsen]

things old man doesn’t want me asking him #327: “can I have a fox fur coat or is that like an over indulgence?”

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

KIDS KIDS KIDS

Taylor checks her phone with a smirk on her face. She’s out of breath, her legs as shaky as always when she comes right off stage. She’s sweating, now more than she was while dancing and singing. A normal reaction by her body which she’s gotten used to by now. Every time, it’s almost as if her body is only just realizing how much work she’s put in once it’s over. Once she gets to relax. It’s insane how exhausting these past three and a half hours really were, but it’s become even more amazing to see that she’s strong enough. Strong enough for all of it.

Taylor giggles once, rather loudly this time, causing her dad to be curious, too.

“What are you laughing at?”

Standing in her dressing room with her parents, she can’t stop smiling at the picture Travis just sent her two hours ago.

“Oh look at them.” Andrea now also laughs while looking at Taylor’s phone screen. She’s holding it up to give both her parents a good view and it certainly doesn’t disappoint any of them. Travis has taken a selfie of himself and his four year old niece, who’s sitting comfortably on her first class airplane bed, orange juice in the plastic champagne cup, a big smile on her face whilst uncle Travy is wearing her beloved dinosaur shaped plastic glasses. This girl loves to force her clothes and toys on her uncle and Taylor adores with every inch of her being how much he just lets her do anything and everything to him.

“Oh look at her with her orange juice.” Scott is laughing now, Taylor already giving her mom a look she knows too well. Her daughter’s heart is slowly but surely exploding from seeing the man she’s in love with so attentive with his nieces. She can’t wait for the two of them to get here. Can’t wait to see for herself how he deals with the little girl. She knows how nervous he is to take Wyatt on this little trip. But in a way, Taylor knows she’s even more nervous than him. After all, there have been so many late night conversations about babies lately. About their future. Their values. Where they see their lives together in ten years.

She knows she wants to go this step with him. She knows that she wants him to be the father of her children. Him and no one else. But this week together with Wyatt will really be a test run, for the both of them, to see how they will deal with a child, especially when things get hectic. She’s only ever experienced him with his nieces during a family day in Philadelphia, for a maximum of three hours. But this time, it’ll be different. This time, he’s dealing with the little girl day and night for a total of four days before Jason and Kylie will join them in London to take over again. Truly the first time, that the two of them will have full responsibility for keeping a human being alive and happy.

“Do you think he’s getting any sleep on this flight?” Andrea just asks, almost as if she’s ready to answer her own question and Taylor laughs. She’s just replied to his picture with a pink heart, then places her phone on the little table by the side and shakes her head at her mom.

“I told him that booking a red eye flight with a toddler is a bad idea. Like.. worst idea ever.” she says, can already imagine how tired and whiny the little girl will be.

“Well, we’ll keep them up tomorrow. At least she’ll sleep good after.”

Taylor nods, hoping to get any sleep in the next four days. But there’s still a smile creeping up on her sweaty face. She can’t wait for the two to get here. Can’t wait to spend more time with Wyatt and Travis. After all, she will be part of their family soon. And in a way, that makes Wyatt her little niece, too. With a smile on her face still, Taylor takes another sip of her water bottle. She’s ready to go back to her Parisian hotel suite and call it a day. Finally.

~

With her hair open and all over the place, she gets up quickly. Her heart is beating fast. She feels dizzy from having gotten up so fast, faster than she should, but she’s way too excited to just stay in bed now. Barefoot, she opens the curtains of her suite a tiny bit, the sky still gray but the sun comes slowly creeping out behind the thin clouds. After all, the weather has been forecasted to be absolutely stunning today. A beautiful summer day. She cannot wait. With her sleeping shorts and her favorite chiefs t-shirt, she checks her phone again, nervously biting her lip as she sees that his location icon and hers are truly closer than close now. She feels her stomach exploding. They’re here. It’s 6am and they’re here.

Just when his latest text comes through is when Taylor can hear a knock on the door. She immediately gets up to open the hotel suite door, smiling ear to ear at what she sees. Brandon from her security team just smiles at her and nods. Travis right behind him, a toddler fully asleep over his shoulder, hanging from him as limp as if she’s dead. He’s not just got his own backpack hanging from the other shoulder together with a tiny pink backpack full of dinosaurs but also pulls a huge suitcase behind him. Taylor can’t help but giggle. He looks exactly as worn out as she expected him to be. Travis then walks in, immediately whispering at her to signal Taylor that they need to be quiet.

“She just fell asleep in the car, I think she needs at few more hours.”

Taylor immediately nods, has already taken the rolling suitcase from him. She thanks Brandon with a smile, quietly closes the big hotel room door, trying not to wake the sleeping child. She places his big hard shell suitcase by the wall, then watches adorably as Travis places the little sleepy girl on the small children’s bed that the hotel has arranged for her at the end of the room. Taylor immediately steps up, helps Travis by taking off her sneakers and proceeds to pull the little blanket up to cover the small body. Travis just drops both backpacks on the floor, lets out an exhausted breath. He can’t wait a second longer, just smiles at the sleepy woman in front of him, shakes his head in anticipation. Oh how long he’s waited for this moment. She immediately giggles quietly, falls into his arms and kisses him. She can feel him sighing into her kiss, his tired body immediately relaxing just by the proximity to her. His big arms are swung tightly about her torso and her hands are securely on his stubbly cheek.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you, baby girl.” he whispers in between the kisses and she just giggles quietly, clearly trying to contain her excitement to not wake up Wyatt right next to them.

“I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea.” she mumbles, their faces still so close that their noses are touching. He smiles, not saying anything, just taking a good moment to look at her. The smile on his face says it all. He’s absolutely and inevitably in love with her. And she loves to feel it with every fiber of her being.

“Did you get any sleep on the flight?”

He shakes his head, tiredly letting his forehead drop onto her left shoulder.

“She was so excited to see Paris and be on a plane. I think she fell asleep thirty minutes before landing.”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. You both must be exhausted.” she says, gently scruffing the stubbly hair in his neck. He doesn’t react and she just turns her head to place a little kiss on his skin.

“Let’s sleep a couple more hours. Will be good for the both of you.” Taylor whispers and he nods, only slowly letting go of her.

“I’ll send a picture of the sleeping beauty to Jason and Ky, I think they’re still up terrified that I lost their baby somewhere in Paris.” he mumbles, already taking a picture with his phone of Wyatt in her little bed. Taylor smiles, especially because she can definitely envision the both parents dying a thousand deaths while Travis is in charge of their eldest daughter. But Taylor also knows that this is one of the biggest declarations of love and trust that Travis has ever received from his big brother. And that’s why he’s been so nervous about this trip. That’s why he’d do anything to make this trip nothing but magical and memorable for little Wy.

“Yeah let them know you both made it safely here and tell Jason and Kylie I’m taking care of the two of you now, so no need to worry.” she jokes and Travis shakes his head pretending to be mad.

“The truth is, that might actually soothe them.” he laughs and so does Taylor. She just shakes her head, can’t help but hug his arm once more. She’s missed him. Oh god, how much she’s missed him.

“Stop it. You’re an incredible uncle. They trust you deeply, that’s why they sent their toddler across the world with you alone.”

Travis nods, yawns once more, and proceeds to get rid of his sweatshirt. She can tell, he’s definitely too tired for these types of conversations now.

“Shall we go back to bed?”

He nods, stealing her cheek one last kiss before walking past her into the big bathroom. Of course they gave Taylor the most luxurious hotel suite he’s ever seen. He didn’t expect anything less.

“Wow this is nice.”

“I know, right? It’s insane.” she says, and he yawns some more.

“Want to set a timer for like… eleven? I’ll just jump into the shower and then come back to bed, okay?”

She nods, more than happy to get a few hours of sleep herself now.

“Okay. Do you need anything? Water?”

He smiles at her standing in the door frame to the bathroom, just takes off his sweat pants and shakes his head.

“I’m good, baby. Go back to bed. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

She nods, closes the door gently and takes a few steps back to Wyatt’s little bed at the end of her bedroom. She’s fast asleep, her little hand moving once. She must be dreaming. And Taylor can’t help but smile at her. She looks just like her father. Those Kelce genes seem to be strong in the family. She’s also got the same eyebrows as Travis. Taylor gently strokes over the little girl’s hair once, then makes her way back to her own bed. She quickly closes the curtains so that the room is dark again. She sets her timer for 11am, thankful for the almost four hours of sleep ahead. A few seconds later, she feels herself get sleepy again, moves to turn around in her big and comfortable bed as soon as she feels the big man crawling under the sheets right next to her. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles, opening his arms for her to crawl into. Within a few seconds, Taylor has wrapped both her arms around him, kissing him gently a few times. She loves to be so close again. Finally, after what feels like eternity. And she can’t wait for the next days to come. She can’t wait to kick off a wonderful summer in Europe together with her favorite person.

“I love you so much, sweetheart.” he mumbles onto her lips, and she smiles into one of their kisses, just nodding happily.

“I love you, uncle Trav.”

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

Chapter III (part 1/2)

No-one dared to remove the apple lodged in Gregor’s flesh, so it remained there as a visible reminder of his injury. He had suffered it there for more than a month, and his condition seemed serious enough to remind even his father that Gregor, despite his current sad and revolting form, was a family member who could not be treated as an enemy. On the contrary, as a family there was a duty to swallow any revulsion for him and to be patient, just to be patient.

Because of his injuries, Gregor had lost much of his mobility—probably permanently. He had been reduced to the condition of an ancient invalid and it took him long, long minutes to crawl across his room—crawling over the ceiling was out of the question—but this deterioration in his condition was fully (in his opinion) made up for by the door to the living room being left open every evening. He got into the habit of closely watching it for one or two hours before it was opened and then, lying in the darkness of his room where he could not be seen from the living room, he could watch the family in the light of the dinner table and listen to their conversation—with everyone’s permission, in a way, and thus quite differently from before.

They no longer held the lively conversations of earlier times, of course, the ones that Gregor always thought about with longing when he was tired and getting into the damp bed in some small hotel room. All of them were usually very quiet nowadays. Soon after dinner, his father would go to sleep in his chair; his mother and sister would urge each other to be quiet; his mother, bent deeply under the lamp, would sew fancy underwear for a fashion shop; his sister, who had taken a sales job, learned shorthand and French in the evenings so that she might be able to get a better position later on. Sometimes his father would wake up and say to Gregor’s mother “you’re doing so much sewing again today!”, as if he did not know that he had been dozing—and then he would go back to sleep again while mother and sister would exchange a tired grin.

With a kind of stubbornness, Gregor’s father refused to take his uniform off even at home; while his nightgown hung unused on its peg Gregor’s father would slumber where he was, fully dressed, as if always ready to serve and expecting to hear the voice of his superior even here. The uniform had not been new to start with, but as a result of this it slowly became even shabbier despite the efforts of Gregor’s mother and sister to look after it. Gregor would often spend the whole evening looking at all the stains on this coat, with its gold buttons always kept polished and shiny, while the old man in it would sleep, highly uncomfortable but peaceful.

As soon as it struck ten, Gregor’s mother would speak gently to his father to wake him and try to persuade him to go to bed, as he couldn’t sleep properly where he was and he really had to get his sleep if he was to be up at six to get to work. But since he had been in work he had become more obstinate and would always insist on staying longer at the table, even though he regularly fell asleep and it was then harder than ever to persuade him to exchange the chair for his bed. Then, however much mother and sister would importune him with little reproaches and warnings he would keep slowly shaking his head for a quarter of an hour with his eyes closed and refusing to get up. Gregor’s mother would tug at his sleeve, whisper endearments into his ear, Gregor’s sister would leave her work to help her mother, but nothing would have any effect on him. He would just sink deeper into his chair. Only when the two women took him under the arms he would abruptly open his eyes, look at them one after the other and say: “What a life! This is what peace I get in my old age!” And supported by the two women he would lift himself up carefully as if he were carrying the greatest load himself, let the women take him to the door, send them off and carry on by himself while Gregor’s mother would throw down her needle and his sister her pen so that they could run after his father and continue being of help to him.

Who, in this tired and overworked family, would have had time to give more attention to Gregor than was absolutely necessary? The household budget became even smaller; so now the maid was dismissed; an enormous, thick-boned charwoman with white hair that flapped around her head came every morning and evening to do the heaviest work; everything else was looked after by Gregor’s mother on top of the large amount of sewing work she did. Gregor even learned, listening to the evening conversation about what price they had hoped for, that several items of jewellery belonging to the family had been sold, even though both mother and sister had been very fond of wearing them at functions and celebrations. But the loudest complaint was that although the flat was much too big for their present circumstances, they could not move out of it, there was no imaginable way of transferring Gregor to the new address. He could see quite well, though, that there were more reasons than consideration for him that made it difficult for them to move, it would have been quite easy to transport him in any suitable crate with a few air holes in it; the main thing holding the family back from their decision to move was much more to do with their total despair, and the thought that they had been struck with a misfortune unlike anything experienced by anyone else they knew or were related to. They carried out absolutely everything that the world expects from poor people, Gregor’s father brought bank employees their breakfast, his mother sacrificed herself by washing clothes for strangers, his sister ran back and forth behind her desk at the behest of the customers, but they just did not have the strength to do any more. And the injury in Gregor’s back began to hurt as much as when it was new. After they had come back from taking his father to bed Gregor’s mother and sister would now leave their work where it was and sit close together, cheek to cheek; his mother would point to Gregor’s room and say “Close that door, Grete”, and then, when he was in the dark again, they would sit in the next room and their tears would mingle, or they would simply sit there staring dry-eyed at the table.

Gregor hardly slept at all, either night or day. Sometimes he would think of taking over the family’s affairs, just like before, the next time the door was opened; he had long forgotten about his boss and the chief clerk, but they would appear again in his thoughts, the salesmen and the apprentices, that stupid teaboy, two or three friends from other businesses, one of the chambermaids from a provincial hotel, a tender memory that appeared and disappeared again, a cashier from a hat shop for whom his attention had been serious but too slow,—all of them appeared to him, mixed together with strangers and others he had forgotten, but instead of helping him and his family they were all of them inaccessible, and he was glad when they disappeared. Other times he was not at all in the mood to look after his family, he was filled with simple rage about the lack of attention he was shown, and although he could think of nothing he would have wanted, he made plans of how he could get into the pantry where he could take all the things he was entitled to, even if he was not hungry. Gregor’s sister no longer thought about how she could please him but would hurriedly push some food or other into his room with her foot before she rushed out to work in the morning and at midday, and in the evening she would sweep it away again with the broom, indifferent as to whether it had been eaten or—more often than not—had been left totally untouched. She still cleared up the room in the evening, but now she could not have been any quicker about it. Smears of dirt were left on the walls, here and there were little balls of dust and filth. At first, Gregor went into one of the worst of these places when his sister arrived as a reproach to her, but he could have stayed there for weeks without his sister doing anything about it; she could see the dirt as well as he could but she had simply decided to leave him to it. At the same time she became touchy in a way that was quite new for her and which everyone in the family understood—cleaning up Gregor’s room was for her and her alone. Gregor’s mother did once thoroughly clean his room, and needed to use several bucketfuls of water to do it—although that much dampness also made Gregor ill and he lay flat on the couch, bitter and immobile. But his mother was to be punished still more for what she had done, as hardly had his sister arrived home in the evening than she noticed the change in Gregor’s room and, highly aggrieved, ran back into the living room where, despite her mothers raised and imploring hands, she broke into convulsive tears. Her father, of course, was startled out of his chair and the two parents looked on astonished and helpless; then they, too, became agitated; Gregor’s father, standing to the right of his mother, accused her of not leaving the cleaning of Gregor’s room to his sister; from her left, Gregor’s sister screamed at her that she was never to clean Gregor’s room again; while his mother tried to draw his father, who was beside himself with anger, into the bedroom; his sister, quaking with tears, thumped on the table with her small fists; and Gregor hissed in anger that no-one had even thought of closing the door to save him the sight of this and all its noise.

Gregor’s sister was exhausted from going out to work, and looking after Gregor as she had done before was even more work for her, but even so his mother ought certainly not to have taken her place. Gregor, on the other hand, ought not to be neglected. Now, though, the charwoman was here. This elderly widow, with a robust bone structure that made her able to withstand the hardest of things in her long life, wasn’t really repelled by Gregor. Just by chance one day, rather than any real curiosity, she opened the door to Gregor’s room and found herself face to face with him. He was taken totally by surprise, no-one was chasing him but he began to rush to and fro while she just stood there in amazement with her hands crossed in front of her. From then on she never failed to open the door slightly every evening and morning and look briefly in on him. At first she would call to him as she did so with words that she probably considered friendly, such as “come on then, you old dung-beetle!”, or “look at the old dung-beetle there!” Gregor never responded to being spoken to in that way, but just remained where he was without moving as if the door had never even been opened. If only they had told this charwoman to clean up his room every day instead of letting her disturb him for no reason whenever she felt like it! One day, early in the morning while a heavy rain struck the windowpanes, perhaps indicating that spring was coming, she began to speak to him in that way once again. Gregor was so resentful of it that he started to move toward her, he was slow and infirm, but it was like a kind of attack. Instead of being afraid, the charwoman just lifted up one of the chairs from near the door and stood there with her mouth open, clearly intending not to close her mouth until the chair in her hand had been slammed down into Gregor’s back. “Aren’t you coming any closer, then?”, she asked when Gregor turned round again, and she calmly put the chair back in the corner.

Gregor had almost entirely stopped eating. Only if he happened to find himself next to the food that had been prepared for him he might take some of it into his mouth to play with it, leave it there a few hours and then, more often than not, spit it out again. At first he thought it was distress at the state of his room that stopped him eating, but he had soon got used to the changes made there. They had got into the habit of putting things into this room that they had no room for anywhere else, and there were now many such things as one of the rooms in the flat had been rented out to three gentlemen. These earnest gentlemen—all three of them had full beards, as Gregor learned peering through the crack in the door one day—were painfully insistent on things’ being tidy. This meant not only in their own room but, since they had taken a room in this establishment, in the entire flat and especially in the kitchen. Unnecessary clutter was something they could not tolerate, especially if it was dirty. They had moreover brought most of their own furnishings and equipment with them. For this reason, many things had become superfluous which, although they could not be sold, the family did not wish to discard. All these things found their way into Gregor’s room. The dustbins from the kitchen found their way in there too. The charwoman was always in a hurry, and anything she couldn’t use for the time being she would just chuck in there. He, fortunately, would usually see no more than the object and the hand that held it. The woman most likely meant to fetch the things back out again when she had time and the opportunity, or to throw everything out in one go, but what actually happened was that they were left where they landed when they had first been thrown unless Gregor made his way through the junk and moved it somewhere else. At first he moved it because, with no other room free where he could crawl about, he was forced to, but later on he came to enjoy it although moving about in that way left him sad and tired to death, and he would remain immobile for hours afterwards.

The gentlemen who rented the room would sometimes take their evening meal at home in the living room that was used by everyone, and so the door to this room was often kept closed in the evening. But Gregor found it easy to give up having the door open, he had, after all, often failed to make use of it when it was open and, without the family having noticed it, lain in his room in its darkest corner. One time, though, the charwoman left the door to the living room slightly open, and it remained open when the gentlemen who rented the room came in in the evening and the light was put on. They sat up at the table where, formerly, Gregor had taken his meals with his father and mother, they unfolded the serviettes and picked up their knives and forks. Gregor’s mother immediately appeared in the doorway with a dish of meat and soon behind her came his sister with a dish piled high with potatoes. The food was steaming, and filled the room with its smell. The gentlemen bent over the dishes set in front of them as if they wanted to test the food before eating it, and the gentleman in the middle, who seemed to count as an authority for the other two, did indeed cut off a piece of meat while it was still in its dish, clearly wishing to establish whether it was sufficiently cooked or whether it should be sent back to the kitchen. It was to his satisfaction, and Gregor’s mother and sister, who had been looking on anxiously, began to breathe again and smiled.

The family themselves ate in the kitchen. Nonetheless, Gregor’s father came into the living room before he went into the kitchen, bowed once with his cap in his hand and did his round of the table. The gentlemen stood as one, and mumbled something into their beards. Then, once they were alone, they ate in near perfect silence. It seemed remarkable to Gregor that above all the various noises of eating their chewing teeth could still be heard, as if they had wanted to show Gregor that you need teeth in order to eat and it was not possible to perform anything with jaws that are toothless however nice they might be. “I’d like to eat something”, said Gregor anxiously, “but not anything like they’re eating. They do feed themselves. And here I am, dying!”

Throughout all this time, Gregor could not remember having heard the violin being played, but this evening it began to be heard from the kitchen. The three gentlemen had already finished their meal, the one in the middle had produced a newspaper, given a page to each of the others, and now they leant back in their chairs reading them and smoking. When the violin began playing they became attentive, stood up and went on tip-toe over to the door of the hallway where they stood pressed against each other. Someone must have heard them in the kitchen, as Gregor’s father called out: “Is the playing perhaps unpleasant for the gentlemen? We can stop it straight away.” “On the contrary”, said the middle gentleman, “would the young lady not like to come in and play for us here in the room, where it is, after all, much more cosy and comfortable?” “Oh yes, we’d love to”, called back Gregor’s father as if he had been the violin player himself. The gentlemen stepped back into the room and waited. Gregor’s father soon appeared with the music stand, his mother with the music and his sister with the violin. She calmly prepared everything for her to begin playing; his parents, who had never rented a room out before and therefore showed an exaggerated courtesy towards the three gentlemen, did not even dare to sit on their own chairs; his father leant against the door with his right hand pushed in between two buttons on his uniform coat; his mother, though, was offered a seat by one of the gentlemen and sat—leaving the chair where the gentleman happened to have placed it—out of the way in a corner.

His sister began to play; father and mother paid close attention, one on each side, to the movements of her hands. Drawn in by the playing, Gregor had dared to come forward a little and already had his head in the living room. Before, he had taken great pride in how considerate he was but now it hardly occurred to him that he had become so thoughtless about the others. What’s more, there was now all the more reason to keep himself hidden as he was covered in the dust that lay everywhere in his room and flew up at the slightest movement; he carried threads, hairs, and remains of food about on his back and sides; he was much too indifferent to everything now to lay on his back and wipe himself on the carpet like he had used to do several times a day. And despite this condition, he was not too shy to move forward a little onto the immaculate floor of the living room.

No-one noticed him, though. The family was totally preoccupied with the violin playing; at first, the three gentlemen had put their hands in their pockets and come up far too close behind the music stand to look at all the notes being played, and they must have disturbed Gregor’s sister, but soon, in contrast with the family, they withdrew back to the window with their heads sunk and talking to each other at half volume, and they stayed by the window while Gregor’s father observed them anxiously. It really now seemed very obvious that they had expected to hear some beautiful or entertaining violin playing but had been disappointed, that they had had enough of the whole performance and it was only now out of politeness that they allowed their peace to be disturbed. It was especially unnerving, the way they all blew the smoke from their cigarettes upwards from their mouth and noses. Yet Gregor’s sister was playing so beautifully. Her face was leant to one side, following the lines of music with a careful and melancholy expression. Gregor crawled a little further forward, keeping his head close to the ground so that he could meet her eyes if the chance came. Was he an animal if music could captivate him so? It seemed to him that he was being shown the way to the unknown nourishment he had been yearning for. He was determined to make his way forward to his sister and tug at her skirt to show her she might come into his room with her violin, as no-one appreciated her playing here as much as he would. He never wanted to let her out of his room, not while he lived, anyway; his shocking appearance should, for once, be of some use to him; he wanted to be at every door of his room at once to hiss and spit at the attackers; his sister should not be forced to stay with him, though, but stay of her own free will; she would sit beside him on the couch with her ear bent down to him while he told her how he had always intended to send her to the conservatory, how he would have told everyone about it last Christmas—had Christmas really come and gone already?—if this misfortune hadn’t got in the way, and refuse to let anyone dissuade him from it. On hearing all this, his sister would break out in tears of emotion, and Gregor would climb up to her shoulder and kiss her neck, which, since she had been going out to work, she had kept free without any necklace or collar.

[whitepolaris]

The Balsams

by Joseph A. Citro

Most New Englanders have heard about The Balsams resort in Dixville Notch, New Hampshire. Deep in the North Country wilderness, ten miles from the nearest town, it is a city unto itself. There's something surreal about this magnificent grand hotel in such a remote and wild setting, almost as if some kind of giant Victorian spacecraft had touched down in the great north woods.

Of course, many people known that Dixville Notch's residents are the first to cast votes in presidential primaries-and, in fact, the voting booths are here in the hotel. Besides national politicians, you can also expect to see notables from the entertainment industry at the hotel, along with the less recognized elite from every walk of life.

What you don't expect to see are ghosts. And if there were ghosts, you'd expect the well-trained staff to be sworn to secrecy. Yet when I visited two years ago, I was delighted to discover The Balsams has a wonderfully active otherworldly population.

I was even more surprised to learn then president and managing partner Stephen P. Barba-who had worked at the hotel since 1959-not only talked about the ghosts, but has also been documenting their activity for years.

The Vanishing Beauty

"The number of reports [of ghosts] has greatly increased since we began our renovation program fifteen years ago," Steve told me.

Although he's never seen a wandering spirit himself, Steve doesn't discount the testimony of the many employees and guests who've had supernatural run-ins. "There are several staff who report seeing ghosts," Steve told me. "We have a bellhop who will never go to the third floor. . . ."

In the summer of 1997, Steve said, doorman Wesley Richardson was heading up to room 439. Halfway up the last flight of stairs, he looked up and saw a beautiful woman sitting in a chair on the third-floor landing. At first he thought she was a guest, but when he considered the hour (almost midnight), her clothing (a long, black old-fashioned dress), and her fixed stare, he wasn't so sure. When she didn't seem to notice him or the sound of his footsteps, he finally realized what he was seeing: not a guest but a ghost.

Just as Richardson began to turn away, the beautiful woman vanished.

A similar encounter involved a young businessman visiting the hotel. Thinking he was alone in the John Dix social parlor, he was surprised to hear the delighted laughter of a young woman. Enchanted, he began looking around for her. Much to his disappointment, she was nowhere to be seen. Later, returning to his room, he passed a large mirror in the corridor. In its dim depths he saw the reflection of someone behind me-an extraordinary beautiful young woman in a long formal gown. She and the clothing she wore seemed strangely old-fashioned.

The young man quickly turned to face her, but the hall was empty.

This lovely apparition has been reported many times in many parts of the hotel. Though she is often glimpsed in mirrors, she is also spotted sitting in chairs, standing in dark corners, and on occasion in plain sight. She has even appeared in the main lobby.

The Naked Man

Steve took me to room 120, one of the several allegedly haunted guest rooms. When we arrived, a housekeeper who had just finished cleaning was locking the door from the outside. Though we all knew the room was empty, we could plainly hear movement and talking within. Steve smiled, placing his ear against the door.

"You hear that?" he said.

Unbelievably, I did.

Just to be sure no one was there, Steve knocked before unlocking the door. Sure enough, the room was empty.

After we stepped inside, he told what had happened there.

After we stepped inside, he told me what had happened there.

At 12:30 in the morning of February 17, 1995, a lady awoke to find a naked man at the foot of her bed. Moonlight revealed that he was dripping wet form head to toe. At first she thought it was her husband, fresh out of the shower. She called to him, "Honey, are you all right?"

The answer came from under the bedclothes right beside her.

She quickly understood that the intruder was not corporeal. He faded away as she watched. Just before the apparition vanished completely, her husband, a sergeant in the Massachusetts state police, glimpsed it too.

Afterward, Steve Barba did a little research that revealed two possibly relevant details. First, back in the era of the big bands-the 1930s-bandleaders routinely stayed in room 120. Second, a certain bandleader had drowned in Lake Gloriette, which is located on the grounds of the hotel.

And Others . . .

Jacques Couture, an occasional employee of the hotel, is convinced that the place is not one, not two, but a small population of ethereal residents, some of whom he has personally seen. On November 15, 1995, for example, he was standing in the Captain's Study talking with hotel employee Diane Hall. As Jacques looked over Diane's shoulder in the direction of the Sun Room, he saw an apparition materialize right before his eyes. It appeared slowly, he said, standing direction in front of the door leading outside. Though the ghost's features were indistinct, Jacques was pretty sure it was a man.

Without saying anything, Jacques tried to signal for Diane to look, too. But before he could touch her shoulder, the apparition vanished. Jacques also reports an physical sensation, saying he felt very cold.

These are but a few of the myriad curious encounters at New Hampshire's most venerable haunted hotel. Nature? Supernature? Who knows? Both worlds seem perfectly intertwined at The Balsams.

[yesiwasateenagewerewolf]

Richie is a reporter for a Maine wide TV Network. His job is all the public interest and wacky local news stories. He loves his job.

He is never happier than when he's interviewing a couple who've been married 80 years, or sitting down to try his hand at a local pie eating contest, or getting his face painted for a charity day run by a local school.

Richie is a natural on camera and a natural with people. He's popular and a local celebrity.

For years he's managed to avoid returning to his home town of Derry until his boss tells him that he'll be in Derry for the next week covering the town Canal Festival.

Richie considers calling in sick, but tells himself it won't be terrible. He drives out ahead of his crew, getting there in the early hours of Saturday morning and checking himself in to the Derry Townhouse.

He sleeps late, then goes for a walk to refamiliarize himself.

He doesn't expect any of the old gang to still be in Derry, not when they'd all wanted to get out so badly, but he finds Mike at the library. Richie can't believe how good it is to see him again.

They go for lunch and Mike lets slip Eddie is still in town.

Richie can't believe Eddie is still in Derry, not after all his plans to get out from under his mother's thumb and live his own life, but Mike tells him Eddie is working in the pharmacy so Richie swings by after lunch.

Eddie is still gorgeous, even after the years apart, even under the horrible florescent lighting. The last time Richie saw him, they were standing on the porch of Eddie's house and Eddie was kissing him goodbye and promising to write when he got to college in New York.

Eddie never wrote. Richie took it to heart. He tried to send his own letters, but they all got returned to him unopened. He figured Eddie didn't want to know any more.

Eddie looks shocked to see him and Richie takes that as confirmation of his theory.

He swallows hard when he sees Eddie is wearing a wedding ring.

Maybe it was all one-sided. Maybe Eddie was just experimenting, just having fun and Richie took things too seriously. He fell in love and he thought Eddie felt the same.

He buys a toothbrush and makes some small talk. Eddie bags up his items, not meeting Richie's eye.

It's painfully awkward, the opposite of how seeing Mike again had been.

Just as Richie turns to leave, Eddie grabs for the sleeve of his jacket, stopping him.

"We should catch up," he says, finally letting his eyes flick up to meet Richie's. "Are you staying at the Townhouse?"

"Last I checked it was the only hotel in Derry," Richie says.

Eddie nods. "I get off work at 6pm. See you around 6.30?"

Richie nods.

He feels sick waiting for Eddie. He's sure Eddie is coming to apologise, to explain his side of things, to let him down gently but Richie really doesn't want to hear it.

It's ten minutes past six when Eddie knocks on the door, and Richie knows he must have run from the pharmacy.

He opens the door and Eddie is sweaty and breathless, his chest heaving.

Their eyes meet.

They're on each other in an instant, kissing hungrily, tearing at each other's clothes, pushing and pulling the other towards the bed.

Afterwards, Richie smokes and Eddie fiddles with his wedding ring.

"Who's the lucky girl?" Richie asks.

"Don't laugh," Eddie says. "It's Greta Keene."

Richie laughs and laughs.

"No fucking way," he says.

"It was a small ceremony," Eddie mutters, cheeks red.

Richie sits up, feeling like Eddie stabbed him in the heart.

"Why the fuck would you marry Greta? She tormented you. She was a bitch to Bev. Did you forget that?"

"She wasn't that bad. We were just kids," Eddie protests.

"She wrote loser on your cast, Eds. She wrote shit about you and me on the bathroom wall. She used to call you a fairy to your face. What was it? You thought you'd show her how much of a red blooded heterosexual man you are by sticking it to her good?"

Eddie's face goes pale. For a moment Richie thinks Eddie might hit him, but instead Eddie gets out of the bed, running for the bathroom. Richie can hear him retching.

He comes back still pale and trembling and begins to dress, not looking at Richie.

"This was a mistake," he says. "I'm married. We can't do this again."

"Yeah," Richie hisses, stubbing out his cigarette on the bedside table. "I gathered that. Most guys I fuck don't throw up afterwards."

Eddie looks at him with wide eyes.

"What? No, Richie, I..."

Richie doesn't let him continue. "Just fuck off to your wife, Eds. I don't want to hear your apologies. Were you fucking her in high school? Is that why you blew me off when you got to New York?"

Eddie looks completely bewildered.

"No! I'd never have...Richie, I never got to New York!"

That shuts Richie up.

"My mum got sick. She needed me to take her to the doctors and to look after her. I deferred my place for a year, but she didn't get better so I just withdrew. I tried to get in contact with you."

"Shit, Eds. Did she die? I'm sorry," Richie says, although he's only sorry for Eddie's suffering, not Sonia Kaspbrak's death.

Eddie smiles bitterly. "No, she's still alive. I take her to church every Sunday and we have a family dinner Wednesday night."

"She faked it?" Richie asks, almost unbelieving.

"I think so," Eddie says, running a hand through his hair. "She started getting better when I began working in the pharmacy. She was fine for the mother and son dance at my wedding."

"How long ago?"

"Two years," Eddie says, looking down at the ring on his hand. "It wasn't - it wasn't anything like you and me. Mr Keene kept hinting at me asking Greta out, and she was always there, always talking to me and I guess flirting."

"Everyone else got out after Highschool. It was just Greta, and me, and a couple of the guys who used to pal around with Bowers. It wasn't like she really liked me, I was just a better choice than one of them."

"So you're straight now? Or bi?"

Eddie shakes his head.

"No. I just...I wanted to get out of my ma's house and do something with my life. Keene says he'll leave me the business when he retires and that's something. He wouldn't have done that if I hadn't married Greta."

"Eds, that might be the saddest thing I've ever heard," Richie says.

He's angry, but now he's angry that Eddie let this happen to him, that he let his mother and this town destroy the spark in him. Eddie always tried to see the good in everyone but it just hurt him.

"I guess I always was a loser, just like Greta said," Eddie says, a sad little smile on his lips.

Richie gets out of bed. He tangles a hand in Eddie's hair and kisses him, long and slow, knowing he tastes of Tabaco and Eddie hates it.

"Don't talk about yourself like that."

They kiss and kiss, falling back into bed together, and Eddie stays the night before leaving hurriedly in the morning to go home and change before he takes his mother to church.

Richie decides he's got a week to convince Eddie to leave Derry, his wife and his mother.

[nina-wrote-this]

Kill or Die – Chapter 11: These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F!Reader x Frank Castle

Summary: You are a New Yorker prostitute and scammer. Making money working at luxurious nightclubs and bars, you go out with old rich men and take their money after drugging them. During one night at a bar, you met Billy Russo and do the same modus operandi as usual. What you don’t know is that Billy found in you a new weapon to take down his enemies and get everything he wants.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual harassment; Abusive comportment; Drug Use.

• Last Chapter

A/N: My comeback after a *HUGE* and crazy hiatus, hope you all enjoy! Love you :)

New York were always a noisy city, and you started to love this after your mom’s death and Maddie’s accident. Being a 17 years old girl, all by yourself, in Hell’s Kitchen became a tragedy and the silence would’ve eaten you alive if it wasn’t for the noises, making you a good company, through the nights.

You came back to that place inside your mind when you wake up at five in the morning, at The Plaza Hotel, inside a dark cold room with a man laying in the bed behind you. Watching the entire city prepare herself for a new day, you made the velvet chair your exile for the following two hours until your owner wakes up.

Every moment from the last night was a punch in the stomach. After you sent Billy away, you were in the stage and all the men in the club were trying to take you as theirs; you were the main dish, and they were hungry for you.

 Until the moment where the man who, in the end, bought you was competing with the one and only Billy Russo to finally have you.

“Five thousand dollars!” My owner screamed.

“We have five thousand dollars! C’mon, boys!” Ramona’s eyes shinned in gold.

“Ten thousand dollars!” Billy in the back of the club, where you have left him minutes before. His arms rigid enough so his veins were screaming.

They kept like this for good rounds, when the bet ended with twenty-five thousand dollars and the bald man taking you to one of the most expansive and fancy hotel in New York. 

Billy, on the other hand, watched you be taken to the second floor, where the private area was, to the man who paid these amount of money to have an entire night of sex and fantasies coming true. You won’t ever forget Billy’s eyes on you, broken, empty and powerless.

When the maid knocked the door, bringing you back to where you really were, you were opened the way to a breakfast little cart and that as the time you put yourself back together to revive the other woman who lives inside you. It was the end of the service, you needed to make worth twenty-five thousand dollars the man have paid you and Ramona for it.

The little card between the color vivid fruits showed you the man’s name, which you couldn’t remember clearly.

“Mr. William Rawlins,

The Plaza Hotel thanked you one more time for the preference!

Hope you enjoy this little gift from all the Hotel staff!”

“Good morning, sweetheart!” His voice came out velvety.

“Good morning, honey!” 

You turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck and placing your lips on his beardless skin.

“Are you awake for a long time?” He asked, keeping his posture and eyes on yours.

“Yeah, just a little. Don’t worry!” You smiled, caring enough for your not so good, truly, humor. “How are you? Did you sleep well?” 

“Like a baby! Doesn’t even seam like I don’t sleep for the past weeks.”

“Oh so we have something in common, some kind of insomnia problem”

 “Yeah, I believe so…”

He analyzes me for a moment, hoping to find a fracture deep inside your eyes.

The man stepped back, setting the table for breakfast. He gently called you and being gentleman enough made all the ceremony for just a simple moment.

“You really like this breakfast and settling the table thing, don’t you?”

He served the coffee, being careful to not pour on the white tablecloth.

 “Well, this is not new to you, isn’t?”

You raise your eyebrows, confused by his phrase. You couldn’t differ if it was some kind of offense or just and a careless loud thought.

Taking a deep breath and fighting to not let yourself get that angry in the firsts hours of the day.

“Yeah, I suppose I’m. But you are more cautious with all of this… Well, doesn’t matter at all.”

“Y/N?” He called sweet as ever.

“Yes, Mr. Rawlins?”

“You don’t remember me, do you?” 

Fuck.

He kept waiting, too much concentrating on you to even touch on his coffee mug. 

Running all your memories archives, looking for any sign of his name, or his face, or this place e then the memory hit harder than a fucking slap on your face.

“Oh my God… You’re William Rawlins...”

“Yes, darling, it’s me!” 

For fuck's sake, how Ramona didn’t remember to tell you this?

There he was, sitting in front of you.

Your very first client. The man who waited for you to turn – close to – twenty-one years old to finally fuck you. 

“I’m so sorry, William! I don’t know how I couldn’t recognize you, I mean…”

You stand up and walk towards him, he steps back his chair a little bit, so you could sit on his lap. For a moment, you felt guilty enough to not remember him immediately.

William was one of the most interesting person you’ve ever met. He was gentle, kind and have always this serene expression on his face. But, the curious part is, inside his eyes, when he looks at you, it’s easy to see the anger, the darkest desires and violent hungry he feels. It is a crazy lion under the skin of a liar lamb.

“Long time no see, yeah?” You exhaled a deep.

“Yes, darling… I moved to Virginia after our last meeting. Work thing.”

He places a lock of hair behind your ear, taking all the time he needed to touch you as much as he could.

“And now, you're back to New York?”

You couldn’t deny the shine in your eyes. William could be a wonderful client to you. A regular one, in other words, something near to a salary. And something near to replace Billy’s payment – and absence.

“Just for a while… I have some work here to do, but I don’t plan to stay as long as it takes. I can’t tell you more than this, darling, I’m sorry.”

“No worries!” You whisper, running your eyes through his face and placing your thumb on his eye’s scar. “Can I ask how did you get these, or it’s also classified, baby?”

He takes your hand and kissed, closing his eyes as he smelled your wrist.

“Afghanistan gave me this one, and also the hair loss!”

His little smile in the end of the phrase made your heart race in some kind of nauseous “joy”.

“I bet was because of these little details I couldn’t reconize you.” You laugh shy.

You two kept going the conversation and eating the breakfast.

William made part of your life for a significant time, what made he witnesses many private life events, like your sister’s accident. Maddison was walking back home from school all alone that day because you were with William. He drove you to the hospital. He saw Maddison all broke on that stretcher. He saw the fear in your eyes, how scary were you. In the end, when the doctors told you her case depended on a miracle, because the probability for her to wake up and have a normal life, it was - and still is - almost zero; William, and Ramona, were the ones who helped to you to not fall apart.

But, he was also a dick, and everything you could curse about an old man who fucks a girl underage. But he was also there for you in your darkest time.

He vanished after your last meeting, he didn’t leave a note and even a message, literally just went gone. But, what hurt you the most was the fact that you heard, a couple weeks before he left, a conversation between him and Ramona about his will to take you with him; for you to be his wife and he would provide a world of good life and opportunities to you. Ramona didn’t agree at first, she wanted to talk more about it. And, not much longer, he left to Virginia.

He broke your heart and expectations about a decent future. You had all the right to be angry right now, but you just couldn’t. Not after what happened with Billy, and after everything you’ve been through with Maddie.

William’s comeback could be a golden ticket. A relief. You just need to earn it.

That morning, he gave you a ride to your home. “Just like the old times”, he said.

Wearing his suit coat, while watching New York’s streets from a – kind of – limousine, you rest your head on his shoulder, and he takes your hand on his. You took a deep breath of his perfume, remembering how was it to have hope in a possible good future for you and for Maddie. How you, at the time you heard his conversation with Ramona, you’re so hopeful and truly believed on his intentions. 

Many parts of you were gone since your mom’s death, the need to grow up faster than ever was the sourest poison you could have ever taste it. One of the parts you missed the most was the abillity to be a believer. But now, it’s all reality and wish to not crumble completely apart while facing it.

“Here we are, darling!” William ran his fingers from your hand to your arm.

You gave him a kind smile.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, go ahead.” His eyes resting inside yours.

“Are you back for good, or this was just some kind of revival?”

He leaned a little kissing your forehead, taking all the time he needed, making your heart race in a way it was impossible for him to not hear it.

“This was our goodbye, sweetheart. The goodbye I could’t give you years ago.” He took your face in his hands. “I owned you this after I just left, I’m sorry for not being the man I’m used to be nowadays!”

“Please, you don’t need to apologize…”

“Y/N, please…” His eyes so concentrated on your expression, trying to find the border of your soul. “Thank you for the wonderful night!”

“You deserve so much more, William…”

You respect his decision, but would be so good if came back once for all.

His driver opened the door for you, cutting any chances for you to try to have William again.

“Oh God, your coat!” You took out faster to give them back to him, but he just smiled at your figure.

“Fits you better, darling!”

You let out a shy smirk and look down, giving him time to take a good look at you, from every point he could.

“Take care, William! Be safe!”

And the car window goes up, letting you taking the dirty stairs to your apartment. All alone, again.

At least you thought so…

To be continued…

***

TAG LIST (open): @kestrafagnor @jessevans @hummelmi @maddieinnit0 @quackson03  @blackmagicwoman

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

A rough accounting of what has happened since last weekend:

Had a slight sore throat but tested negative, so I still drove ~6 hours out of state to see family with Spouse

Did a couple things with Spouse's family while mostly masked/outside and then went back to the hotel

Woke up completely out of it and Bad on Sunday; I stayed in the hotel while Spouse spent time with family

Fire alarm goes off sometime in the late afternoon-ish. I ignore the first shorter run. Second time it goes off long enough that I realize that it's not a test and throw on my shoes and grab my bag and head out to the parking lot in my pajamas.

Turns out the hotel was on fire??

But like only a little bit

I couldn't see any smoke during my slow lap around the building, but that doesn't mean much

Basically every other person there is a 25 - 50 year old man, which makes the fact that I'm not wearing a bra more awkward than it strictly needed to be

Some guy runs up to another group of guys and asks "this motherfucker on fire?" This is greeted with laughter but no answers.

An hour and ten fire trucks/cop cars later, we're cleared to reenter the hotel

Smells kinda smoky but I really can't otherwise tell that there was a fire so that's good I guess

Also did I mention that this hotel doubled as a trucking school?

Seriously one of the most liminal places I've been in a hot minute, not helped by being deliriously sick and out of it

I go to lay back down and realize by now it's dinner time and I desperately need food

I order some soup and go on a delirious ten minute drive for this food

The food tastes weird, but it's hot so it's fine enough I guess

Spouse brings home Covid tests he's been randomly gifted by his family

The next morning I test myself since hey - we have tests and it never hurts to be safe than sorry even though it came up negative a day and a half ago

And

It

Comes

Up

Positive

So now, I'm in another state with a ~6 hour drive home, Major Work Things the scheduled the next two days, and now I'm tamei for Covid

(Spouse tests negative for Covid miraculously, and so far is asymptomatic)

(We skip out on the goodbyes with his family anyway though and hit the road)

It takes us 11 1/2 hours to make this normally 6 hour drive home, because I keep having to stop to set up work-related coverage

My driving is mostly okay but this is the loopiest I've been driving in a hot minute

(Spouse doesn't drive, so I am the only driver unfortunately)

We get home stupid late, and I collapse into bed only to get up very early the next day and proceed to work 6+ hours for coverage reasons.

I manage to work slightly less on Tuesday, which is good, because by that point I physically cannot stay awake for more than an few hours at a time and can barely talk.

Spouse is also now very obviously sick

Wednesday I sleep

Thursday I sleep

Friday daytime I sleep

I bring in Shabbat on time, and then proceed to fall asleep at 9:00 p.m. and sleep until 12:30 p.m. on Saturday

Sunday - well, after I got up on Saturday I managed to stay awake 14 whole hours! But I'm still sick as hell. Spouse is also still very sick, and both of us retested positive as of Friday afternoon. We'll see what the rest of Sunday holds I guess.

So anyway, time is fake, last weekend feels like a year ago, and some things are better not smelled or tasted whilst sick anyway.

[naoyaslut]

The Hills Ch. 5

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT +18 ONLY!

NOT SUITABLE FOR WORK - TURN BACK

Pairings: ran x reader minor rindou x reader kenji x reader feat. sanzu 

Warnings: tobacco use, lil bit of foreplay, shit talking, an attempt at brat taming, pet names, drugging (of reader), guns, BETRAYAL, talk of infidelity, suicide mention. 

Authors notes: I think I may start to push the chapters out every two weeks because they are feeling kind of rushed and I'm not able to revise ad edit as I want to. Sorry for future inconveniences! Also, we get HANMA BAE IN NEXT CHAPTER. If you find anything repeated or terrible errors please let me know, I had to redo the entire post because my 2 year old decided to come over work his magic. 

t@glist: t@glist: @alice-smutthoughts , @dumbbitchuni-versity, @renxnana, @pulchritxde , @baggymcqueen @tojitsukaisen 

Wordcount: 4, 866 

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen

You awakened groggily a few hours later, the events leading up to where you were now playing back in slow motion as you attempted to recall them.  You were in a hotel suite, dark, with streaks of moonlight pouring in from the open balcony.   

You were laying on your back, blouse halfway unbuttoned your skirt riding up over your thighs.  Blinking slowly, you stayed in place as you glanced up at the ceiling.  The room was deathly quiet and the only thing filling the room was the sound of your own breathing, painfully loud in the shrouding dark.  

You recalled Ran escorting you into the building, how you heavily leaned into his warmth his long limb wrapped around your waist.  The elevator ride made you grow nauseous, Ran’s large hand on your back soothing the uneasiness.  

“Ran,” you called out into the darkness helplessly only to be greeted by silence.  He wasn’t here, the oversized suite was empty and you laid lifelessly on the king-sized mattress.  

You sat up weakly, groaning in the process as a searing soreness made itself known throughout your body.  Your back, your limbs heavy as lead, and the crevice of your thighs supplying you with a dull ache.  

“Fuck,” you mumbled almost incoherently as your head began to pound, harshly once you were upright.  The room began to spin once you stood up flat on bare feet, probably from the residual buzz of the drinks you had ingested earlier in the night.    

“Never again, I think...” you muttered dryly as you passed through the enormous suite, sticking your head inside a room you assumed was the bathroom.  

Flicking the light switch on, you snapped your eyes shut in alarm at the fluorescent light that blinded you momentarily.  Once your eyes adjusted to the bright lights you stared at the oversized bathroom stepping in front of the mirror to examine yourself.  

You looked a hot mess.  Mascara smeared underneath your eyes and your hair that was normally sleeked down to perfection appeared unruly, curls slipping free from the band that was supposed to secure them in excess.  

You turned away from the mirror in disgust padding over to the shower before turning it on. You had no idea what time it was, but you knew that you needed to clean yourself up.  You could smell the faint traces of sex, sweat, and a hint of Ran’s cologne.   

Stripping your clothes off of your body, you stepped into the shower to tend to yourself.  Thirty minutes later you emerged, clean and content as you slipped on one of the complimentary bathrobes before going back out into the bedroom.    

The alarm clock next to the bed read that it was 12:02 AM after midnight.  It was very late or super early, you could definitely get some sleep before you returned home.  The room remained dark, the slight chill of the morning air spilling into the room from the balcony door that was now wide open.  

Sauntering to a complete stop you tiredly stared at the open door, the silhouette of a broad lithe figure visible just outside of the door.  It was a man, leaning casually over the edge of the balcony a burner firm pressed firmly to his ear.  

He was shirtless, a massive tattoo of black ink covering half of his back muscles visibly flexing as a cigar was drawn to his lips.    

Your gaze never left the tattoo, studying its simple yet intricate design.  He stood up straight to peer over the balcony once more carrying on his conversation in a hushed manner.  You couldn’t hear what was being said, but from this angle as he turned away you could see the tattoo on his neck.  

It was Ran.  You sighed in relief, shuffling across the room to lower yourself back on the mattress, the sudden movement catching his attention briefly.  He shot you a brief glance and then went back to talking on the phone.  

You continued to give him your full attention, eyes now fixated on the tattoo that was as big as the one on his back etched across his chest.  Your stomach flipped in question as you pondered as to why this man was covered in tattoos.    

You wondered what he did before any of his involvement with Hanma, and you honestly pondered if he knew more about Suzu than what he was actually letting on.  

A thick cloud of smoke seeped from his parted lips as his eyes found their way back to you in the darkness a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips while simultaneously snuffing out the end of the cigar.  

Ran slipped back into the room, the burner phone he was talking on previously clutched in one of his hands.  You sat up, eyes following him as he sat on the edge of the mattress placing the phone on one of the end tables.    

“I didn’t think you’d be up until morning at least.” he mused, watching as your eyes focused on his tattoos now that he was right in front of you.  

You only nodded briefly, your eyes never meeting his opting to linger on the traces of black ink.  Canting your head off to the side, you rested a hand underneath the curve of your jaw as you finally met his eyes.    

“I’m not sure why I woke up I just did.” your gaze wandered again to his adam’s apple.  “I was alone though, you weren’t here.”  

“I was here all night, could have been in the other room.” Ran hummed bringing a hand to fiddle with the lapels of your robe, fingers sliding along the fabric grazing your collar bone.   

You pursed your lips at his lie, doubtful that was the case.   

“Yeah, sure.” you raised your own hand, fingertips softly grazing over the large tattoo on his adam apple, resulting in you shaking your head as if you disapproved entirely.  

You bit your tongue.  The questions you wanted to ask had answers that you weren’t ready to hear, and things that would be better off unanswered, especially to you.  Ran probably wouldn’t divulge anything anyway, you were sure he was a smart man.   

Ran grabbed ahold of your wrist, tugging you forward so that you fell into his chest with an audible yelp.  You were practically in his lap, hand on your wrist still firmly in place.  He raised a brow, his lips curving upward in what you assumed was supposed to be a smile, but it looked more like a glower.  

“You’re so interested in this damn tattoo” he breathed, lilac eyes bright, curiously staring down into your own.  

Tearing your eyes away from his you tried to pull your hand away from him, only to have him pull you closer.  

 “I’m just looking.”   

He smirked down at you, leaning forward to bury his face into the column of your neck pulling the skin of your jugular in between his teeth.  

You gasped at the slight pinch relaxing in his hold as his free hand worked to untie the sash holding your robe together.  

“Do you want to know what it means?”   

Your heart leaped into your throat upon feeling his cool hand upon your bare skin, a faint whimper following when his fingers tweaked a nipple.    

Whining in complaint, you flexed the fingers of the hand that was still in his grasp settling your hand at the base of his neck.  

“No.” you mewled, swallowing the tightness that began to form in your throat.    

Ran kissed along the curve of your jaw, moving to force his mouth against your own slipping his tongue into the warmth of your mouth.  

You could taste the heavy smoke from his cigar, bitter flavor causing you to retreat from the assault on your mouth.  

“Why not?” dropping your hand, he pushed the bathrobe off of your shoulders the thick material pooling on top of the mattress beneath you.  

His next movements were quick as he hovered over you, slotting himself between your thighs.  He kissed a line down your collarbones, stopping at your breasts before taking a hardened nipple between his teeth.  

You jolted at the endeavor, arching further into him to spur him on.   

“I know-,” you stumbled over your words upon feeling two of his fingers' ghosts over your exposed cunt.  “It's not good Ran.”  

Ran pulled his fingers, now slicked with your arousal away from your core tsking as he hovered over you.  

“Don’t be greedy.” Ran crooned over you, running his thumb over his tongue and pulling back the hood of your clit before pressing the pad of his middle finger to the sensitive bundle of nerves.  “Didn’t you already get fucked earlier?”  

Your mouth went dry at the sensation as you greedily bucked into his hand.  

“I-is that what we’re calling it?”  

The sharp sting of Ran’s open palm coming down on your inner thigh ‘caused a loud yelp to climb up your throat, the numbing after effect causing you to whimper giving Ran a wide-eyed stare.  

“Ow!” you screeched, eyes beginning to cloud over with tears.  Ran smoothed a hand over the spot he slapped as he stared down at you, eyes dark and half-lidded.  

“I really want to be sweet on you, y/n.” his voice was low and almost sultry as he fixed you with a half glare half-grin.  “But you’re making it hard with that mouth of yours.”  

Something in your gut tightened at his tone.  It was stern enough to get your attention and kept you from biting about another smart remark.   

Wetting your lips, you nodded slowly suddenly hyper-aware that you were naked as the day you were born underneath his heated gaze.  

“I’m not used to...,” you faltered, heat creeping up through your belly as you tried to explain yourself, but nothing else came to mind.  

Ran sat back on his haunches stroking his chin thoughtfully as he watched you.  Your eyes were still wide in confusion.  Probably still drunk, he assumed.   

Flipping the comforter up from the mattress, he drew himself underneath taking the time to pull you with him.  He nestled you beside him, drawing an arm around your waist and tucking you back against his chest.   

“Sleep.” Ran ordered, no amused lilt as if his word was absolute while pulling the comforter over the both of you.  

The atmosphere of your banter changed so drastically, your heart still thudding against your ribcage as Ran embraced you.  You didn’t fight him either, you were exhausted.  The pair of you lay in the darkness for about ten minutes before you started to drift off.   

“The tattoo on my back is something that I share with my brother.” Ran pulled you tighter into his embrace, placing a light kiss along your shoulder blade.  “You can see the orchid and a snake if you’re observing it properly,”  

You yawned, curling further into his arms.  

“Ran means orchid,” you mumbled sleepily, in response getting a light hum from Ran himself.  “Brother?”  

“Mhm,” he hummed again, this time burying his face in the mess of your curly hair.  

“I have a brother.” you started, pushing your face further into the pillow you were lying on.  “Well, had.”  

Ran raised a curious brow, even though you couldn’t see it.  His face laced with interest because of the past tense you used to correct yourself.  He could feel the way your body tensed underneath his hold as if your nerves had begun to unravel.   

“Had?” He didn’t expect you to answer, your body becoming completely rigid as you stopped breathing.  

“He killed himself.” your voice was barely above a whisper, your body relaxing again and melding into Ran’s warmth.  “I was the one who found him... he, he and Kenji worked together at the same precinct.  He’s tried to take care of me ever since.”  

Your heart was thudding angrily in your chest, the headache from earlier making its presence known once again.  You hadn't ever shared that information with anyone outside of your close friends and family.  Why you were so readily giving the information away from Ran puzzled you even.    

Ran hummed after a moment of silence, kissing the top of your head before pulling the comforter tighter around you.  

“Sleep.  You’re thinking way too much.”  

Maybe he was right, you were on the brink of exhaustion.  Nodding you closed your eyes falling into the depths of another dreamless sleep.  

You awakened again with a start.  You were no longer wrapped in Ran’s embrace, just alone in the bed with the comforter thrown over you. It was still dark out, the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock reading 3:24 AM.   

You sat up slowly, turning your gaze off to a pair of wooden double doors barely cracked open located on the other end of the room.  A dim stream of glowing light spilled from underneath the frame the sound of low voices gently muffled by the doors.  

Slowly, you clambered out of the bed grabbing the robe you’d been wearing earlier in the night.  Throwing it around yourself, you slowly paced towards the door stopping before pulling them open.  You could hear Ran talking on the other side of the door to another man, an almost manic lilt to his voice.  

“So, it is taken care of.” the other voice spoke.  

“It’s been taken care of, Rin filled me in when I got back a few hours ago.”   

Sanzu shuffled towards the window pulling down one of the blinds so he could peek out.  

“Multiple patrons overdosing on the property isn’t a good look.” he fixed Ran with a quick glance before reaching in his pocket to fish something out.  “As long as this doesn’t get back to the boss, everything should be fine.  Just give Oh a heads up he’ll make sure we’re good.  What do we pay him for anyway?”  

“Taken care of.” Ran reiterated, rubbing his forehead exhaustion seemingly setting in.  

Curiosity got the best of you, and you stood quietly leaning forward to take a peek through the crack of the door.    

Ran stood in the center of the dimly lit room, hair disheveled as if he’d just woken from sleep pressing the mouth of a plastic water bottle to his lips.  

Near him, another man almost as tall as he was with pink hair inhaled the cigarette he’d been smoking.    

You had no idea what they were talking about, and no intention of finding out. Taking a step back you opted to return back to bed, only to halt at the cool chill of something metallic at the nape of your neck.  Your breathing hitched slightly as the drawl of a monotoned voice reached your ears.  

“Be a good girl and turn around.” the voice sent a slight tremor down your spine, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip to keep the startled whimper from clawing up your throat.  

You turned slowly and were met with the barrel of a black handgun pointed in your face.  Both of your hands flew over your mouth as you stood stock still, unmoving as the pistol was shifted so that the barrel rested at the angular of your jaw.   

“And what the hell do you think you’re doing?”   

Your eyes followed the hand attached to the gun, skimming past that familiar tattoo on the front of his throat.  It was an exact copy of the one that Ran had.  Bringing your gaze upright, you made contact with a pair of purple irises the same exact color as Ran’s.  He looked familiar; you were sure but at this point in time you couldn’t wrap your thoughts around what was happening.  

Your throat had gone dry, hands dropping to your sides as you stared at him wide-eyed.  

He stared at you; stone-faced forcing the barrel deeper into the flesh along your throat.  

Whimpering slightly, you stepped away from him your body colliding with the open door.  

“I-I just woke up, I was looking for Ran.” you stumbled over your words, panic evident in your hushed tone.  

He pulled the pistol out of your face and leaned down so that he was a mere inch or so away from your face eyes burning into your own.    

“What’d you hear sweetheart?” the hand that wasn’t holding the pistol, grasped around the base of your neck, fingers weaving themselves into your hair holding taught.  

You shook your head slightly, tears beginning to brim the corners of your eyes.  

“I didn’t.” wetting your bottom lip, you stared up at him lips quivering in fear.  “I didn’t hear anything, I swear.”  

You were positive you were in tears by now, your hands nervously gripping the hem of your bathrobe while the purple-eyed stranger kept you in place with a hand in your hair.  Sniffling quietly, you squealed in surprise once he pulled you closer, standing erect as he did.  

The doors to the room the two of you were standing outside of began to creak open Ran stepped into the open doorway.  

“You should pay more attention to your playthings.” the man with the hand in your hair scolded, obviously annoyed.  “She was eavesdropping, no telling what she heard.”  

Ran blinked down at you, your face streaked with tears as his brother released the hand in your hair.    

Tsking, he opened his arms with a gentle smile on his face, intending to placate your crying.  

“C’mere baby,” Ran mumbled, his tone soft.  

You quickly stumbled into his arms with the intent to get away from the other man behind you, your fear still caught in the base of your throat.   

Burying your face into the silk shirt that Ran was wearing, you hid your face within the fabric sobbing quietly into his abdomen.  

Ran slipped an arm underneath both of your legs and swooped you up bridal style as he walked back towards where the bed was.  

“Rin, why are you scaring the girl she was just looking for big daddy.  Right baby?” he sat down on the mattress with you draped over his lap and let out a sigh of exhaustion.  

“We don’t have time for your shit Ran.”  Rin scolded his older brother, the pistol from earlier still clasped tightly in his grip.    

“She didn’t hear anything; we weren’t talking about anything important.”   

Sanzu walked into the room, this time his face free from a face mask two apparent scars on the sides of his mouth.  Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a metal tin and handed it to Rin.  

“Mikey needs me, I’m headed out. Give her one of those, she won’t remember a thing in the morning and we don’t have to get rid of a body tonight.  Easy.”    

Sanzu wasn’t in the mood tonight, and it clearly showed as he turned towards the door to leave.   

You cowered in Ran’s lap as you listened in on the conversation that went on in the background, your head swimming with uncertainty as you curled inward on yourself.  

“Meeting tomorrow at HQ,” Sanzu said, an amused smile plastered on his face.  

Sanzu was on his way out, while Rin opened up the metal container presenting Ran with a right pink pill.  Ran held out an open palm as Rin dropped it in his hand, eyes narrowed in discontent.  It was clear he wanted to scold his older brother but he did no such thing, pushing the container into his pocket before following Sanzu’s lead.  

“We’ve got shit to do, Ran.”  

With that, he was gone leaving you and Ran alone in the darkness of the hotel room.  Running a hand through his hair, Ran groaned internally, cursing under his breath.  

“Look at me pretty girl.” Ran sighed, waiting for you to comply holding the pill up to your mouth when you finally did.  

“This is going to help you sleep.” he watched you quietly, your lips parting obediently, he placed it on the flat of your tongue.  

The pill began to dissolve as soon as it hit the wet of your tongue, the bitterness causing you to cringe in disgust.  

“I’m sorry.” you were quiet, a gentle haze of confusion wafting over you from the obscure lozenge that Ran had given you without hesitation.  

“Get some sleep.”  

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

Bzzt…Bzzt…Bzzt  

Reaching out you felt around the bed from underneath the comforter for whatever was vibrating loudly against your ear drums.  The initial assumption was that it was your phone, but you just couldn’t get a solid grasp on it in the groggy state you were in.    

Lifting your head in agitation, you cracked your eyes open tiredly waiting for your vision to adjust to the brightly lit room.  There.   

Picking it up, you pressed the button on the side of it to silence the vibrations that had awakened you from a deep slumber.  The phone was silenced and you nestled back into your pillow closing your eyes again.  You were extremely fatigued, head throbbing unforgivingly as you relaxed into the blankets.  

Sighing in relief, you closed your eyes again only to jolt up again upon hearing your phone vibrate once more.  Frustration was beginning to set in, you forced yourself up right picking up the phone to stare at the LCD.   

Kenji’s name was displayed on the screen as the phone buzzed continuously, and in return, you just stared at it blankly. It was after 9 AM apparently, and after the phone eased its ringing again you saw the missed call notification.  

10 missed calls.  All from Kenji.  Rubbing your tired eyes, you unlocked your phone in an attempt to call him back, but your doorbell ringing disrupted you.  

The heavy pounding that came next startled you, forcing you to clamber out of bed.  A few glances around the room told you that you were in your own bedroom. Slowly, you padded through your apartment, clad in an oversized silk button-down shirt that didn’t belong to you.    

Your confusion came next, as you tugged at the silk shirt curiously, only to jolt back to reality upon hearing another round pounding at your door again.    

Startled, you shouted out of anger as you neared the door.  

“Hang on a damn minute, I’m coming!” you seethed, placing your hand on the handle and yanking in frustration.  Your hand sipped off of the knob from the excessive force almost throwing you back on your behind.   

Regaining your composure, you unlocked the door, angrily pulling it open to see Kenji standing in the doorway dressed a little more formally than usual in a black suit white undershirt, and tie.  He looked as if he had just come from some kind of business meeting or court.  

  Sighing in annoyance you fixed him with a pointed glare, raising your eyebrows in pure agitation.  

“Why the hell? Why are you hitting my door like some deranged psychopath?”  you asked, completely bewildered.  

Kenji simply stared down at you, eyes going over your appearance confusion and then anger falling over his features as he pushed his way into your apartment slamming the door shut behind him.  

“Where the hell have you been?” Kenji loomed over you; brows knitted together in anger as he stared down at you.  “And where the fuck did that shirt come from?”  

Affronted, you stepped away from him to put some distance in between before retorting.  Looking down at the shirt again, you honestly couldn’t recall where it came from or why you were wearing it so you lied.  

“It’s an old shirt Kenji,” you glared in his direction as he began to close the space you had purposely put between the two of you in the first place.  “Why are you blowing my phone up, I was sleeping.”  

Kenji stared at you in disbelief, eyes narrowing in suspicion.  He looked like he didn’t believe you one bit.  

“You’ve been gone for two days.” He stepped forward again, his hand grasping hold of your jaw to pull you into his grasp.  “I was this close to filing a missing person's report.”  

Stilling in his grasp, you looked away from him trying to come up with something, literally anything.  The longer you stood there trying to account for lost time.  Everything was blank.    

Your brow furrowed in discontent as you pulled away from him to sit down on your sofa.  Leaning forward, you rested your forehead in your palm as you sat quietly.  

The last thing you remembered... was going to see Suzu.  How she was still detoxing and how she admitted that Kenji had cheated on you while you were in college.    

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him lips pressed in a thin line.  You slowly chanted a mantra in your head, hands curling into fists at your sides.  

It happened in college.  It happened in college.  It was the past; you have no right to be upset.  It was in the past.  

Clearing your throat you stood, cradling your bosom with both arms.    

“Are you going to answer my fucking question?” Kenji asked, the aggravation clear in his voice.   

The longer you stared at Kenji the more upset you became.  Your frustrations were coming to a head, your nerves suddenly raw from Suzu’s exclamation.  It left a bitter taste in your mouth.    

“Did you sleep with Suzu while we were dating in college?” the question materialized before you realized you had spoken it out loud.     

Kenji paused momentarily but rebounded just as easily as he stepped towards you.  You were impressed.   

“Did Suzu tell you that?” He stepped towards you again, attempting to grasp at your arm only to have you step out of his reach.  “Didn’t I tell you not to go see her alone? She’s an addict.”  

He wasn’t confirming nor denying it, your heart dropped down into your stomach an inkling of nausea beginning to stir in the pit of your belly.  

“Ken,” you started, walking over towards the door you reached out to grasp the handle.  “I need you to leave, right now.  I can’t talk to you right now.”  

Ken’s mouth dropped open, to say something only to have you interrupt him.  

“I mean it Ken, get out right now.” Your heart ached for obvious reasons but the fact that he wasn’t trying to save face really hit your hard in the gut.  

Kenji ran a hand through his hair fingernails nearly clawing at his scalp, this was something you noticed he did when he was getting irritated.  

A slight grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he tried one more time, taking a step near you.  

“Baby doll.” Kenji reached towards you to rest a hand on your cheek and you turned away from him, tears starting to make their presence known.  

“Get out, I don’t want to talk to you right now.  I mean it.”  

He got the hint that time, preparing to leave the apartment.    

“Look, it’s not what you think.” he stepped out into the hall.  “Just let me explain.”  

Once he stepped over the threshold, you slammed the door shut in his face locking it right after.  

This was rough.  Propping yourself up against the door, you caught yourself before you fell over.  You felt absolutely disgusted.  The fact that both Kenji and Suzu had been lying to you right in your face for all of these years.    

“Y/n.” Kenji’s voice came from the other side of your door and you were nearly retched right then and there.  Abandoning your post at the door you ran into the bathroom flipping the toilet seat up as you vomited into the bowl.  

Leave.  Please, just leave...  

Silence ticked on afterward.  Five minutes turned to ten the silence continuing to stretch as you sat on the bathroom floor wallowing in your own self-pity.    

Once you were certain Kenji was gone, you stood up leaning over the sink to brush your teeth to cleanse the taste of sickness from your pallet.    

Splashing your face with cool water, you looked into the mirror staring sadly at your reflection.    

“I- can’t...”   

A faint image tugged at the recesses of your brain, causing you to jolt momentarily as snapshots of the other night began to become more recognizable.  

Ran pulled you into his lap, covering your lips in a fervent and needy kiss.  Heat bloomed in your chest at the absent memory.  

“Ran.”   

You remembered spending the night with him, you remembered him buried deep inside in the back of that damn car.  

You flushed, slightly ashamed.   But the rest of the night was just dark, except for the unfamiliar voice that echoed in the depths of your consciousness.   

"Just give Oh a heads up he’ll make sure we’re good.  What do we pay him for anyway?”  

You stood frozen, staring at your paling reflection in mirror. 

[wizkiddx]

work with me

this is for @worldoftom 'lolbrosgetsicktoo' challenge event thing - go check it out bcos lots of much better writers have got involved too✨! I'm v new to these things but I tried :) the prompt was: 'would you quit whining and just get in the bath' . (also look at me acc posting sort of regularly, who'd of thought?!?!)

warnings: sickness / fever (more dramatic than it needs to be) / LOTS of medical inaccuracies

summary: when tom doesn't take advice and ends up very ill, very far from home, there's one person whose stuck dealing with it

“Please Tom… I need you to work with me!”

It wasn’t his fault he was being a complete nightmare, though your patience was wearing off somewhat.

For context, you were in Morocco, where he had been filming part of his next film, which only made trying to take care of him that bit harder.

Everyone got ill sometimes. It wasn’t his fault.

That was the mantra ringing through your head, even if you had a more challenging time believing it. Tom wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to joke about it. HOWEVER, what he was less good at was heeding warnings. He was a white boy in Morrocco; the health and safety briefing had literally been aimed at him. Had he taken the advice not to eat any dodgy looking meats at the market?

Of course not; that’d be boring.

Everyone else was fine. You’d all sampled Morroccos culture without giving yourselves the worst case of food poisoning you’d ever witnessed. But not Tom - possibly one of the only ‘indispensable’ people on the set. If you, or one of the minor characters, or even the director, had got ill - the show could continue.

When you’d been rudely awoken by your phone going off, you’d known instantly. It was as if you’d told him not to take a bite out of the weird burger once you were away from the eager view of the street vendor. Sure enough, with bleary eyes, you hissed at the brightness of the phone screen before seeing ‘Tom H’ on the screen.

“Y/n?” His voice was croaky, but just from the single call of your name, it was clear he was feeling sorry for himself.

“Are you okay? It’s late T.”

“Um I… can you come over? You…you might need the key I’m - um- in the bathroom.”

As his stylist, it technically wasn’t part of your job description to also be mother when he was sick, but (unfortunately for you) after the 3 years working side by side with him - you were also friends.

Which you were almost regretting by the second time rinsing the toilet bowl clean after he’d evacuated what seemed to be the majority of his vital organs into it. Honestly, it was impressive how he managed to keep going.

That had been at around 4 in the morning- the doctor had been called at 8, coinciding beautifully with his 5th toilet extravaganza. Once the doctor had confirmed your original, if completely unqualified, diagnosis of food poisoning - you hadn’t been able to bite your tongue. Perhaps an ‘i told you so’ might’ve slipped past your lips, but Tom was a bit too out of it to argue back.

You’d been given firm advice from the doctor - he said little sips of water, rest and control his temperature. It all had seen pretty simple - though the action? Not so much.

It wasn’t his fault, yet Tom was not super compliant. You and Harry had both been taking turns in practically forcing him to take sips of water, having to turn off ‘modern family’ till he did. The blackmail had put you both in his bad book.

Honestly, thank the lord Harry was here too. You’d woken him up at seven, begging for help and since then, you’d tagged teamed. While one was looking after Tom, the other was phoning the director, the doctor, and the crew to inform them of the current situation.

Again, of all people. Why’d it have to be Tom?

Mainly because you knew how mortifying he found this. He didn’t like people fussing over him, never had. He liked to work hard, liked to make people happy - definitely didn’t like to feel a burden. Perhaps what made him feel ten times worse was that he knew he was inconveniencing the whole production team massively.

And yes, as you’d unhelpfully reminded him, it was ‘his fault’.

The lavish hotel room, big bathroom and pretty efficient AC still didn’t manage to mask the pungent in-the-back-of-your-throat smell from the bathroom. At the doctor’s advice, who had been a little concerned at Toms fever, Harry had cranked the AC on high. It had forced you to steal one of Tom’s big hoodies and a pair of joggers- you hadn’t left his room since he first called you, still wearing your tiny pyjama shorts and an old tee.

“Please turn the air con off.” His little voice whined from where he was lying, huddled up under the covers. Perched on the other side of the double bed, but over the covers with your laptop on his lap, you could actually feel him shivering with the chills. It felt like you were torturing the poor boy.

“T you know I can’t. It’ll make your fever worse.” The way he looked up at you, like a little Labrador that you were refusing to pet, actually pained your heart.

Okay, so yes it was his fault, but you weren’t mad, you just felt so awful for him.

“Please I’ll- I’ll pay you more.” His voice was hoarse; though he denied a sore throat, it sounded like the constant sickness was burning his windpipe.

“Tommm” you pouted, sticking your bottom lip out “I don’t want your money, want you to get better.”

Apparently giving up, brown eyes shot you the filthiest look in disappointment, rolling to face away from you. You thought he was giving you the silent treatment in a huff, but instead, he was praying on the weaker one.

“Harry, I’ll buy you that set of golf clubs-“

“NO!” You had to interrupt before Harry would say yes - because from the way his younger brother shot up from the arm chair, he was about to. Scowling eyes slowly focused back on you in annoyance, making you huff - shutting the laptop and kneeling on the bed to face him. After pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, which was scorching hot, you sighed. “I know you feel shitty and I’m so so sorry but I’m trying to make you better. So shut up, drink this and go to sleep!”

Like a child scorned, you received another death glare however, then he complied, taking a sip of the water you offered before lying back - huddling even tighter.

And it had been relatively peaceful for a few hours; Tom seemed to be getting some sleep - even if he was tossing and turning. Eventually, a prescription that the doctor had requested worked its way through the system, Harry getting a text to say he could go pick it up. The nearest pharmacy was probably a 30 minute drive from the hotel, so he left as soon as.

This left you alone with Tom, where the situation only descended into more chaos.

Almost as soon as Harry had left, Tom had stirred with a grunt. All it took was one look at his face for you to know. Both of you leapt up and flew into the toilet, Tom once again getting very familiar with the Moroccan toilet bowl.

This time though, when he had leant backwards, he’d sort of lost control and flopped most the way - you catching him before he could hit his head on the tiled floor.

“Woah, easy there!” It wasn’t like he’d passed out, but the look in his eye as he slumped into your lap… he wasn’t all there either. “Hey Tom… you with me? Tom?”

Lazily he blinked up at you, not really replying except for groans of half-formed words.

Deciding this had all got a bit direr, you almost sprinted back into the room, grabbing your phone and returning. He was still on the floor, his thumb and first finger pressing into each eye - groaning again.

“Hey Tom? I’m gonna call the doctor you need anything?” He whined in response, stopping only when you stroked his sweaty hair back, most of your attention on dialling the correct number.

The solution he’d given wasn’t pretty: Tom’s fever was too high hence why he was all woozy and groany. Until the doctor could get over with the stronger medications, you needed to lower his temperature in other ways or take him to hospital. He’d absolutely hate hospital, but the other choice? Boy, was he not going to like it either.

Ignoring Tom’s croaked question of what you were doing, you busied yourself switching on the bath taps. You let the water run until it was the right (very mild) temperate, then turned back to Tom, who’d managed to work himself up to sit against the sink unit.

“The doctor says you need it.” His brain was foggy, his mind was slow but your tone told him enough to know something was wrong with the bath. “Just take your clothes off and then I’ll help you-“

“Absolutely fucking not.” Good. He was still with it enough to argue.

“I am just as uncomfortable as you are Tom, but we both know you can’t stand up without fainting, so you are going to need my help.”

“Y/n!”

“Keep your boxers on and it’s just like a fitting! I’ve seen you have those before!”

It was clear as day just how emasculated he felt, especially because he knew you were right. Sitting up at this current moment was a push; there was no way he was getting in the bath without some help. Defeatedly he nodded, but gave you a piercing look to turn around before he started wiggling himself out of the flannel pyjama trousers and light cotton t-shirt. Most confusingly, he still felt freezing cold, yet he had long since learned not to argue with you - especially when your justification came from the advice of a doctor.

Your cue to turn around came in the form of an extra angry-sounding grunt- the look you got when you did wasn’t much better either. It was a weird contrast, though, having someone who physically appeared so indestructible (a superhero for crying out loud); to have been absolutely beaten to a pulp by a few mouth fulls of weird meat. You had seen his bare torso before, although it still wasn’t something easy to get used to - making you clench your teeth together just slightly. A very welcome view.

Perhaps you looked just a little too long at the man who was technically your boss, hunched angrily on the floor in nothing but his calvins - another grunt shaking you out of it. By now, the bath was almost full and you hurried to shut off the water, feeling your cheeks heat up as you cursed silently to yourself.

“Okay come on, gimme your arm.” Begrudgingly Tom followed your request, slinging his arm heavily over your shoulder as you crouched beside him. As strong as he looked, you knew right now he felt powerlessly weak - all that muscle was just going to be almost dead weight.

Now it was your turn to grunt and groan as you pulled Tom up to stand, him focusing on blinking away the headrush he got.

“Come on T work with me here.” Getting him to the side of the bath wasn’t too difficult, the issue came when he stepped with one foot into the bath and yelped, instantly withdrawing as if it was a literal ice bath.

The sudden movement had you both losing balance, ending with Tom sitting on the edge of the bath and you leaning over him, in between his legs, and slapping your hand on the wall opposite purely so you both didn’t end up in the bath.

“Tom!”

“It’s like ice water!”

“Its lukewarm like the doctor said!”

“It is not its from the fucking arctic!”

“Oh for god sake!” Exasperated, you paced up and down the bathroom shaking your head at his ridiculousness. This was ALL. HIS. FAULT.

You came back to him with an ultimatum.

“It’s this or the doctor said I had to drag your ass to hospital.”

“Nooooooo.” The 25 year old seemed to convert into a whiny three year old again.

“Those are the two options. So will you PLEASE quit complaining and get in the bath.”

Keeping up the toddler persona, Tom huffed but reluctantly nodded in agreement - you had come up trumps. It didn’t stop him yelping when you helped to lower him in. His breath was shaky, as a response to the ‘cold’, but he was firming it. At least when you felt his forehead after a couple of minutes, it certainly seemed as though the fever was starting to ease off .

“You can go if you want.” His voice was murmured and as you looked up at him, he did his very best to avoid your gaze.

“Not a chance, if you drown on my watch, Nikki will never forgive me.” At the very least he seemed to appreciate your joke, scoffing a little with a small nod. “If you don’t want me here I get it. As soon as Harry’s back, I’ll swap with him.”

“No! It’s not that its… I’m just an ass when I’m ill.”

“A self aware ass, though.” Again he chuckled a little, as you folded your arms on the edge of the porcelain tub, resting your head lying to one side. “You had me pretty scared there for a moment, you know?”

He nodded a little, creating a wave of ripples in the water which you watched to avoid his gaze - which you knew was tracing all your features inquisitively.

“Hey it’s in the job description, always a bit dramatic... I’m sorry though I should never of called you- don’t know why I didn’t just get Harry.” In response you tutted, taking a moment to lean up and push his sweaty curls back a bit.

Just because you could, it was allowed in this moment.

“’m glad you did.”

“Yeh me too” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut in the easy silence of the bathroom. You kept a vigilant eye on him for the next 20 minutes, checking the temperature of his forehead using the back of your hand, whilst he seemed to finally get a bit of proper restbite, appearing like the worst had passed. You had no idea what was taking Harry so long; in fact it was the doctor that arrived first- who you ran to let in (not wanting to leave Tom asleep in the bath one bit).

Whilst the doctor did all his checks, taking his temperature properly this time, satisfied that it was much more manageable. He still wanted to set him up with some oral rehydration rescue packs to get his hydration status a bit better and give some anti-sickness tablets and antipyretics.

Having actually been getting some rest before all the prodding and poking, Tom was back to being a grumbling dick - now not wanting to leave the bath (the irony was real - making you roll your eyes). Once again, he appeared embarrassed to have you see him like this, so you left the doctor to help him get out and changed- instead going down to reception to get a fresh set of sheets, as he’d done a pretty impressive job of sweating through the old ones.

Even if tired and grumpy, when Tom exited the bathroom, he looked much better - he was walking himself without the doctor’s help. Which honestly was such a relief because when he had passed out on you, you genuinely were terrified. Thankfully the doctor stayed for the next 20 or so minutes, which was just when Harry returned with a bag of medications - which were now wholly redundant, given the doctor had already supplied everything.

“What happened?” Harry asked you in a hushed voice, whilst Tom was distracted with getting his medications. Recounting the story of Tom pretty much passing out, Harry grimaced for you, then launching over to give you a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” That was a novel idea, you hadn’t really thought about yourself at all - but honestly, you were a bit shaken, having been running on adrenalin for most of the night.

“I-uhm… yeh I think so… just-just was a bit scared, I guess? Felt bad too because he didn’t want me there but-“

“I can promise you Y/n, he did want you there. Just probably embarrassed he wasn’t all manly and that…” With a nod, you smiled softly at the frizzy-haired boy.

Whilst working with Tom, it also meant getting pretty close to his younger brother. The two Hollands were almost attached at the hip, which you were very much okay with.

It was weird though... your relationships were completely different. Harry was just your brother, through and through. He wound you up like a sibling but also knew you as if he had your whole life. With Tom… it wasn’t that. Arguably, you were closer to Tom, but on a different level. It was more exciting, more nerve-wracking and heartwarming all at the same time. Honestly, you couldn’t get your head around it properly.

“Hey, you’re probably shattered. Why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep? I got it in here.” You knew Hary was trying to offer something nice, and now all the excitement had worn off, you were unbelievably shattered. But you didn’t like the idea of not being there, as a just in case.

“Uhm, I think I might just stay, you know?” And he did, with a deliberate, knowing smile, he nodded.

He knew you were worried. He knew Tom had really really scared you. He also knew how much you cared about his brother.

Just like how Harry knew Tom wanted you there, even if he felt embarrassed. Well, anyone would- when you are passing out half-naked in front of the one person that really matters.

It was just at this point that the doctor was done, giving Harry instructions about the rest of the day, when you made a beeline for the bed. Tom was propped up against the headboard, still with a pale sullen look and tired eyes, but a bit less clammy and more human. He cracked a smile as you crawled up onto the other side of the bed, kneeling next to him.

“How’re you doin’?”

“All drugged up, just feel fucking exhausted.” Instinctively you reached up to feel his forehead, really appreciating the fact it felt almost normal.

“Join the club mate, I had a 5am wake up call too.” You almost whispered, intending to make Tom laugh, but instead only getting a pout.

“I am sorry, a-are you going to go back to your room?”

“Nah” Tom’s eyes didn’t light up, except the fact that they very much did. “Can’t trust you not to get into trouble while I’m gone Holland.”

“Thanks.” He laughed weakly before shimmying down on the bed, so he was much more comfortable. “And thankyou, I-I’m sorry I’m a dickhead and made your life-“

“Shut up Tom!” Laughing, you lightly slapped his arm, also leaning down on the bed, so you were lying facing him. “You’re all feverish; go to sleep before you say something stupid.”

There was a long pause, Tom just gazing deep into your eyes, because he was pretty sure what he was thinking was nothing to do with the dodgy unidentified meat he’d had the evening before.

“What... like asking you out?”

…..

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so stupid.”

~~~~im really not sure how I feel about this one, let me know what you thought ;) ~~~~

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter@hollandfanficlove

[imagineaworld]

mr & mrs smith | b.b

in which bucky and y/n go undercover

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, platonic/romantic undertones

word count: 2k

warnings: none

undercover missions were usually fun. coming up with a character and a backstory was something y/n enjoyed doing the night before the mission. this time, however, her character and story were already decided.

“you two,” tony stuck his head around the corner of the door into the common room and beckoned with his finger. “come with me.”

y/n shared a confused glance with bucky from across the room. they had both been sat on opposite sides of the common room, bucky reclined on an armchair, head in a book, and y/n sat in the windowsill, her head also buried in a book. 

shrugging, y/n headed after tony, bucky following suit, wondering whether they were in trouble or not. when they got to tony’s office, bucky took a seat next to y/n, bouncing his leg up and down unconsciously.

y/n put a hand on his leg. “it’s alright,” she said, flashing a reassuring smile.

bucky smiled back, awkwardly patting y/n’s hand as it rested on his leg. he never knew how to respond to physical affection.

“alright you two,” tony chucked a file across the desk to them. y/n took her hand off bucky’s leg to read through it. “got an undercover mission for you. this time, i decided your aliases.”

“what?” y/n complained. “that’s no fun.”

“quite the opposite,” tony said. “you two are in the honeymoon suite.

bucky choked in surprise. y/n’s jaw dropped.

the two weren’t the best of friends, but they weren’t enemies either. y/n was always kind to bucky, and very physical in her affection. on multiple occasions, when going to bed, she would hug everyone good night, including bucky if he was in the room. bucky tried not to think of it personally, she did it with everyone of course. but sometimes it was the only physical affection he got for days. 

“you couldn’t have picked someone more compatible? like bruce and nat?” y/n suggested.

“vision and wanda?” bucky chimed in. the thought of going on a mission with y/n made him nervous, because she made him nervous.

tony shook his head. “has to be you two. this mission requires a particular skill set. you spend the night in the honeymoon suite, plant some bugs, secret cameras, y’know?”

“why?” y/n asked.

“after you two check out, a prominent member of a terrorist organisation will check in with his equally prominent new wife. see what information you can get, hm?”

-

y/n chucked her suitcase into the trunk of the loan car. “i’m driving,” she announced.

“why you?” bucky asked, leaning against the car, dressed in dark jeans, a plain t-shirt and a zip-up hoodie to cover the majority of his metal arm.

“you’re an old man. plus you don’t have an actual licence.”

bucky protested as y/n climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the engine. grumbling to himself, he got into the passenger seat. “here you go,” he said, handing her a gold ring. “goes on your left hand.”

“yeah, i know,” y/n muttered, slipping the ring on her finger. she held her hand out, admiring the wedding band. bucky put his hand next to hers, wearing a matching band. “i always thought if i was marrying a hundred-year-old man, he’d be my sugar daddy.”

“i can buy you a coffee at starbucks,” bucky offered.

y/n chuckled. “you know what? i’ll take it.”

bucky watched y/n from the passenger side as she drove. the pair drove for an hour until they passed the nearest starbucks, where bucky bought them both a latte and a pastry for the rest of the journey. another half an hour and they arrived at the grand hotel tony had booked for them. 

they each grabbed their suitcase from the trunk. “okay, metal man,” y/n murmured. “keep your left arm hidden behind my back.”

“no shit, captain obvious.” y/n elbowed him in the side. “yeah, that’s exactly how a newlywed couple would act,” he said sarcastically. 

“okay, newlyweds starting now.”

the two walked into the hotel, suitcases in tow. bucky’s metal hand was on the small of y/n’s back, hidden from the view of the receptionist as the two of them checked in. for him, it felt strange to be touching her like that, but y/n showed no signs of even acknowledging it.

“hi,” y/n greeted sweetly, in a voice bucky had never heard before. “we’ve booked the honeymoon suite.”

the receptionist typed something into the computer. “mr and mrs smith?” she asked. bucky and y/n nodded, fake smiles plastered on their faces. “third floor, let me just get your room key,” she headed into the backroom.

“mr and mrs smith?” bucky whispered.

y/n rolled her eyes. “must have been tony’s idea of a joke,” she whispered back.

“i don’t get it.”

“never mind.”

the receptionist had returned, handing y/n a room key. “enjoy your stay,” she smiled.

“thank you,” bucky and y/n said at the same time, heading up to their room.

-

inside the honeymoon suite was beautiful. there was an expensive-looking chandelier in the middle of the ceiling, gorgeous floral wallpaper adorning the walls. on the walls also hung beautiful paintings and embellished mirrors. at the back of the room, there was a huge, decorated bed. just one.

“there’s only one bed,” bucky pointed out.

of course, there was only one bed, it’s the honeymoon suite. bucky hadn’t thought of this. 

y/n abandoned her suitcase and flopped down on the massive bed. “it’s a movie.”

“what’s a movie?” bucky asked as he sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed beside y/n.

“mr and mrs smith,” she explained. “angelina jolie and brad pitt play a husband and wife who are both assassins, but neither knows about the other because they work for different agencies. until they get assigned to kill each other.”

bucky chuckled. “sounds good, actually.”

in the golden light reflecting off the ornately carved, brushed-gold headboard, y/n looked ethereal. bucky took in her exquisite facial structure, the way her hair splayed across the pillow where she had laid, how her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she closed her eyes.

“about the bed situation,” y/n said, snapping bucky back to reality as she opened her eyes to look at him. “you mind sharing? it’s pretty big and i don’t take up much space.”

bucky just shrugged, not really sure what to say.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to, you can tell me,” y/n reassured.

“no, it’s fine, honestly,” bucky replied, not entirely convincingly.

y/n got up from the bed, picked up her suitcase and opened it on the bed. she rummaged around underneath a bunch of microphones and cameras to pull out a bikini. looks like we’re filming a porno, bucky heard her mumble under her breath.

“i’m heading to the pool, wanna come?” y/n asked, disappearing into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.

bucky tapped his metal arm. “can’t.” 

when y/n came out of the bathroom, she had on a simple black bikini. she threw on an oversized shirt, grabbed her towel and her book. “alright, i won’t be too long,” she said, heading out the door.

-

happy to have some time to himself, bucky made his way out onto the balcony, taking a seat in a sun-lounger and started reading his book. it took him a while to get the image of y/n in her bikini out of his head, but eventually, he managed to focus on his book. in the midday heat, he slipped his t-shirt off over his head, shirtless in the sun.

he had been so lost in his book that he hadn’t heard y/n come back, or realised how much time had passed.

“whatcha reading?” y/n asked, surprising bucky. she was sat on the sun-lounger on the other side of the balcony, her shirt also discarded on the floor like buckys.

“i didn’t hear you come in,” bucky murmured.

“that’s the point,” y/n shrugged, opening up her book.

“to kill a mockingbird,” bucky answered her question. “saw it on a list of ‘ten books everyone should read’. have you read it?”

“yeah,” y/n used her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked at bucky. “i really liked it. you enjoying it?”

“so far,” he said.

y/n diverted her attention back to her book, but bucky found it difficult to do the same. y/n’s body was exposed, leaving little to the imagination. bucky wasn’t yet used to the new way women dressed nowadays. he most certainly wasn’t complaining though. her hair was damp, slicked back and trickling droplets across her bronzed skin. her face was makeup-free, glowing in the sunlight. her long legs...

“what?” y/n asked, noticing bucky staring at her.

his cheeks flushed as he mumbled, “nothing.”

“i can cover up if it makes you more comfortable?” she offered, not unkindly.

“no, it’s fine,” he spoke louder now. “i think it’s great that women can wear whatever they want now.”

“you sure?” she checked.

bucky cleared his throat, closing his book. “yeah. i’m gonna take a cool shower now anyway, too hot.”

he headed inside, leaving y/n in her bikini on the balcony. 

-

by late evening, y/n and bucky had ordered room service for dinner and were now sat opposite each other on the humungous ornate couches. between them was a glass coffee table, holding two glasses of red wine. bucky was already on his second glass.

"so," y/n said, making conversation. "you think nat and bruce will ever make it official?"

bucky looked confused. "is it not already official?"

y/n shook her head. "nat talks my ear off about it, how she's not sure if she should make the first move or wait for him to." 

y/n wore a pink silk pyjama shirt and matching shorts, exposing her long legs, which she crossed in front of her as she sat. she took a large gulp of wine and carefully topped up her glass. bucky wore dark sweatpants and a dark t-shirt.

“why don’t you have a boyfriend?” he asked, the wine giving him an edge.

y/n looked slightly amused. “what?” 

“why don’t you have a boyfriend? or girlfriend?” he added.

“i guess i haven’t found the right person,” y/n shrugged.

he contemplated this for a moment. “so, are you...” bucky cut himself off. “never mind. none of my business.”

y/n knew exactly what he was going to ask. “a virgin? no, i’m not. you?”

“no.”

“i didn’t think so,” y/n said with a smile.

bucky frowned. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“well, have you looked in the mirror? you’re not exactly ugly,” she said with a laugh.

bucky wasn't sure how to interpret that. he wasn't used to compliments, nor was he used to speaking so openly about sex. did that mean y/n thought he was good-looking? perhaps he hadn't been mistaken all those times he thought y/n hugged him just a bit longer than everyone else.

he didn't say anything, just poured himself some more wine. 

"why don't you have a girlfriend? or boyfriend?" y/n threw bucky's question back to him.

bucky thought for a while. he hadn't really thought about having a relationship. he didn't think anyone would want to be with someone with as much baggage as he has. but he didn't want to share that with y/n. "haven't exactly figured out this modern dating," he said, taking a sip of wine. "don't like the idea of going on a date with someone i haven't even met." 

"i tried it once," y/n confided. "nat dared me, a few weeks ago. didn't go very well." 

bucky raised his eyebrows. "why not?"

"men are pigs," y/n shrugged, not wanting to go into much more detail.

perhaps she wasn't interested in bucky then like he had thought for a second there. ask now, he thought, while its the topic of conversation.

"there's got to be someone you like though?" he asked.

he watched her shoulders rise and fall as she sighed, contemplating. "it's not a priority for me, i guess. if i find someone, cool. but i'm not looking. i think love just happens sometimes, you can't always look for it."

"i'm sorry your date didn't go well," bucky spoke lowly. "anyone would be lucky to have you."

y/n chuckled. "you think?"

"i do."

"you're real sweet, you know that?" y/n smiled softly at bucky. "anyone would be lucky to have you, too.”

[writingtoforgetreality]

Gold Rush (Sebastian Stan x Reader)

[Actors-Masterlist]

Gold Rush [1] / You’re Not Sorry [2] / This Is Me Trying [3] / [4] (soon)

Summary: Your career was blossoming, especially with your new role in “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier”. Working on set was a dream come true. It was never your intention to fall for one of your coworkers. Not when you knew that he would never look at you that way.

Words: 2,637

Warnings: language, it’s Anthony Mackie’s world & we’re just living in it, angst, feeeeeels, maybe I cried, maybe I didn’t, we’ll never know, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Inspired by: “gold rush” by Taylor Swift

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

You scored big time when you were casted in the upcoming Marvel series “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier”. Working alongside Anthony Mackie & Sebastian Stan had been more than you had ever wished for. The atmosphere on set was harmonious. Everything would have been fine if it were not for your stupid crush on your fellow castmate. Mackie picked up on the fact that you liked Sebastian almost immediately & he teased you about it one too many times. No matter how obvious his teasing, it seemed like Sebastian was completely oblivious to it. Or he acted as if he had no clue. You were not quite sure about that.

The press tour was going strong, which meant that Seb, Mackie & you were teamed up for every interview. Now, that was not something that bothered you too much. After all, you were more than comfortable around them. But when some interviewers did not know where the line was, you got frustrated. Like, okay, we got it. Everyone with eyes knew Seb was hot. But as an interviewer, you should know when to stop. Shamelessly flirting in front of the camera with basically a stranger? Sorry, but you had no explanation for such a behavior. Yes, some interviewers flirted with you, too. But you were great when it came to brushing them off while staying polite. Of course, Mackie’s teasing did not make this any easier for you. Every now & then, he would bring up the chemistry you & Seb shared on screen. And off screen. Like usual, you laughed at him & so did Seb. During interviews, you teased each other a lot, it was a playful manner you all enjoyed. And the audience loved the three of you for it.

Sometimes, when Seb answered a question that had him explain scenes with you or something similar, you hated the butterflies you felt inside. You hated how your cheeks warmed up. You hated that he had such an effect on you. You hated Seb. You hated him for being so perfect. You hated him for being a literal God. You hated him for ruining every other man for you. Because nobody could ever compare to him. And you said that even though you were not even in a relationship. Hell, you were not the only person who looked at him that way. If the interviews were not proof enough, a look at social media did the job, too.

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

“So (Y/N)…” the man sitting opposite of you started. It was not a lot of times that questions were directed at you. Usually, people were more excited to talk to the guys. No offense taken. “The chemistry between Sebastian & you can be felt even after such a short trailer. My question is…are you two, like, a thing?” of course. If you got a question, it was about your love life or about how great you looked in your suit. The others got complex & well thought through questions & you got this shit. Internally rolling your eyes, you stayed professional & answered casually.

“Sebby & I are friends. We work well together. We know each other well enough to communicate with our eyes, body language & so on. Some people mistake that for dating, apparently.” finishing off with a sarcastic chuckle, you had to hide the fact that you wished that there was more between you two.

“I gotta say. Even I think they’re dating sometimes.” Mackie smirked when he spoke up which earned him a light slap from you. Seb only hid his face behind his hand & laughed quietly. It was nothing new. You were used to his teasing by now. Looking over at Seb, you could not help but admire him. Even when he was embarrassed, to you, he was the most beautiful person on this planet. Not a single flaw. Just…perfect. If only you had enough courage to do something about your damn feelings.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

I see me padding across your wooden floors

With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door

“Stop that.” Mackie walked over to where you were sitting. Finally, you had a break after hours of giving interview after interview. Looking up, your face turned into one of pure confusion.

“Stop what?” he exaggeratedly rolled his eyes at your question.

“The daydreaming.” it was a simple statement. But why would he tell you to stop that?

“What? Is it forbidden to daydream now?” chuckling at him, you offered him one of your coffee cups. Your handler brought you two because you had not slept much that night. But Mackie needed one just as much & he gladly accepted it. Still, he could tell that you were trying to change the topic. Not with him, though. Sitting beside you, he sighed loudly.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” he looked straight forward when he asked that question. Your face fell at his words but maybe, maybe, if you played dumb, you could get out of this conversation without any awkwardness.

“Tell who what?” your innocent eyes bore into his side profile & you saw him shaking his head slightly. A low chuckle escaped him.

“Tell Seb you like him or I will.” he stated & your eyes widened in fear.

“You wouldn’t dream of it.” exclaiming frantically, you grew more nervous at the thought.

“I wouldn’t trust that thought.” & after a few seconds of silence, you breathed out loudly.

“Yeah, sure. And I’d risk our friendship for that? Forget it.”

“He likes you, too, you know?” he casually stated. Your face changed, but only for a second. He was wrong. Someone like Seb could never like you back.

“Stop, Mackie. Don’t just run around assuming shit.” you pushed his shoulder playfully but it did not do too much. What a surprise.

“My running around assuming shit isn’t assuming. It’s facts. You guys are awful, by the way. It’s exhausting, watching you two trying to dodge your feelings. Why can’t you just, I don’t know, get everything sorted out & be happy together? If someone deserves that, it’s you.” yes, Mackie could be sarcastic but when push came to shove, he could be serious, too. And that last part, he meant by heart. Was it true? Did Seb like you? More than a friend? Maybe you should just tell him. Life was too short to be filled with what if’s. It was now or never, right?

At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit

And the coastal town we wandered 'round had never seen a love as pure as it

And then it fades into the gray of my day-old tea

'Cause it could never be

Wrapping up for today, the three of you decided to grab some take-out & eat it back inside your hotel. After quickly showering & dressing more comfortably, you made your way over to Seb’s room. Mackie was already there, he texted you at least ten times to hurry up because they were starving to death. Dramatic diva. Knocking softly, a smile spread across your face when Seb opened the door. Stepping aside to let you in, you greeted Mackie briefly. He was already eating so why the hell was he rushing you earlier? He could be such a child. Seb handed you your food & motioned for you to take a seat on the bed. Take-out in a hotel bed? It should be illegal. Usually, you were not one for eating in bed but whenever you where staying at a hotel, it became some sort of a routine for you. Same for the guys. For a while, the three of you just talked & ate your food. Conversation always flowed easily with them. You knew all of their secrets & they knew all of yours. Well, except for Seb having no clue about your silly crush on him. When he & Mackie discussed a topic you did not know too much about to actually engage in their conversation, you found yourself stealing glances at Seb. If it were not enough for him to be so gorgeous, of course he had the best personality to match that. God really took his time with him. And the weirdest thing of it all was that Seb never let that thought get the best of him. He was aware of people admiring him but that never changed him.

'Cause I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

Mackie got a phone call & said goodbye to you before leaving the room. Which meant that Seb & you were alone. It was nothing special, the two of you spent a lot of time together. This time, though, you wanted to confess to him. Finally, you wanted to tell him how you felt. Could you live with the rejection? Well, if things turned in that direction, you had no choice but to. Seb’s lips moved but no sound came out. You zoned out & simply stared at him. Your thoughts were running wild. The sun had already started setting & the golden light illuminated his features in such a beautiful way. It almost looked like a movie scene. He was the masterpiece others could not keep their eyes from. You were this close to speaking up, taking a deep breath for preparation. This could change your bond with him forever.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

My mind turns your life into folklore

I can't dare to dream about you anymore

A phone ringing interrupted you. It was not yours. But Seb pulled his phone out of his pocket. The moment he saw the notification, he started smiling so brightly. The smile you had grown to love so much. It brought a grin to your face, too. The things this man could do to you, completely unaware of the effect he had on you.

“What?” you asked when he could not stop staring at his phone. Had Mackie sent him a message?

“Nothing, it’s just…” he stopped before saying too much but you were having none of it.

“Aw, come on, Sebby. You can tell me anything.” encouraging him, your hand found its way on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Seb seemed almost shy right now. And this was weird because he usually was everything but shy when he talked to you.

“There’s this girl & she’s just…amazing.” your face fell the moment he started talking. No. “I asked her for dinner but when she hadn’t replied after hours, I started losing hope. She just messaged me back.” his smile was sheepish & you hated that you had to admit that he looked happy right now. Genuinely happy. But you were not the reason of his happiness. Another girl was.

“And? What did she say?” deep down, you knew the answer & you actually did not want him to say it out loud. But you were best friends, after all, it was kind of your duty.

“I got myself a date. I’m going on a date with her, (Y/N)!” he beamed & pulled you into a big hug. One, that made the butterflies act out. Fuck, that hurt.

“That’s great, Sebby. I’m happy for you! You deserve it.” your excitement for him was fake but the sincerity behind your last words were not. If one person on this planet deserved endless love & happiness, it was him. Mackie was wrong. Seb had never liked you. Not in that way, at least. And his date saved you from embarrassing yourself & ruining your friendship. That did not change the fact that you felt like crying right now. You could not shed tears in front of him, could not show how much it actually affected you. No. You had to fake a smile. And that shit hurt like a bitch.

At dinner parties I won't call you out on your contrarian shit

And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it

'Cause it fades into the gray of my day-old tea

'Cause it will never be

“Something’s wrong with you.” Mackie stated at breakfast. No shit, Sherlock.

“What makes you think that?” feigning innocence, you rolled your eyes when you saw the look he was giving you.

“Clearly, you’re upset. Did something happen after I left you with Seb yesterday?” he hit the nail on the head with his assumption.

“Yeah.” was all you answered. His eyebrows raised, he waited for you to continue. But when he noticed that you were not planning on engaging in any more conversation with him, he pressed further.

“Did you tell him? Did he mess up?” if Seb messed up, he would kill him. There was no other person who was better for him than you. The two of you deserved each other. And everyone seemed to realize that but you.

“I wanted to tell him.” admitting quietly.

“But?”

“He got a notification.” your short answers made Mackie freak out. He grew frustrated with you when you dragged out this entire conversation.

“(Y/N), come on.” he urged.

“Sebby has a date.”

“With you? But that’s great.” his smile was small but present. Did you finally realize that you were feeling so much more for each other?

“With another girl.” then you looked up at his face, your eyes glossy. Clearly, you were trying to keep it together but he could tell that you had a hard time doing so. Yes, Mackie would kill Seb. He could have sworn that Seb only had eyes for you. The stolen glances, the efforts to make time to spend more with you. What the fuck was going on? When he saw your first tear falling, he wasted no time in pulling you in for a hug. You were broken, all because of one man. But the thing was that he was not just any man. He was Seb. Your best friend. Your everything. But he would never be yours. Not in a million years. Because he only saw you as a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was not like you did not have options. Hell, you declined so many people over the time. All because of him. And you were afraid that this would not change anytime soon. Because you did not think you would ever get over him. Your heart was ripped into a million pieces & the only person who could help you fix it was getting excited over his upcoming date. Whatever you thought could be between you guys, it was nothing but a dream. Something that could never be.

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

Gold Rush [1] / You’re Not Sorry [2] / This Is Me Trying [3] / [4] (soon)

Published (04/22/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @buckysleftarm420 (thanks for your support <3)

[willwriteforhugs]

ateez says “i love you” for the first time

ateez scenario - all members (individually) x reader

genre: fluff, angst if your vision is worse than 20/60

word count: 4k (total)

warnings: minor intrusive thoughts, some arguing and cursing 

a/n: this fic should be taken lightheartedly! i really enjoyed writing this, but please remember that it is for entertainment purposes only. also beware: some of these are a bit longer than others? please know that it wasn’t intentional lol (no writer’s bias here!) also, the gif above does not belong to me! thank you so much for reading <3

hongjoong: 

quiet, repetitive sound effects play through the outside of hongjoong’s headphones. you sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. even when your boyfriend isn’t working, he’s working.

you’d been together two months already, but sometimes you worried. he was so busy, and you knew it wasn’t his fault... but you weren't sure how he really felt about you. for you, the first few dates had been butterflies-in-the-stomach, giggling-like-crazy, head-over-heels-for-this-man type emotions. but as you sit in his studio on this saturday night, you start to wonder if he’d ever felt those things.

you tilt your head to look at him. god, he’s beautiful. those long lashes that you would absolutely kill for, his curious eyes... everything about him screamed “love of your life!!!”

hongjoong shifts in his seat, glancing down at you. he smiles a little, and plants a small kiss on your temple. “ten more minutes, my love. i’m almost done.”

you smile and nod sleepily.

the ten minutes pass in relative silence, minus joong’s music, which was accompanied by the tapping of his foot. 

finally, he shuts his laptop. he stands up, returning to his desk to put everything back in order. you stay where you are, watching him.

after a moment, you stand up. “i’m gonna go heat up the car.”

he looks back at you, already protesting. “babe, you don’t need to do that. plus it’s late- i don’t want you out there all alone.”

“i’ll be okay, hongjoong. you know how cold that car will be.”

he holds your gaze for a moment. “alright.”

you turn to leave as he continues talking. 

“i’ll be out in just a minute, okay? i love you.”

you freeze, halfway out the door. your head swivels back, and your boyfriend is staring at you with wide eyes, clearly catching what he’d said.

“what did you say?”

he’d said it in passing. of course he loves you, the same way hongjoong loves everyone, why would he-

“i said i love you,” he sighs. he sets down his bag and crosses the room in large strides. he comes to a stop in front of you, and lifts his hands to cradle your face. “and i meant it. i do. i didn’t mean to tell you like that, but- yeah. i love you.”

your voice cracks when you finally manage to speak. “i love you, too.”

seonghwa:

the heels of your boots make angry clicking sounds on the floor of the apartment complex. tears prick at your eyes, and you increase your pace.

just get through the door, y/n. don’t you dare cry in public.

work had been awful, of course. apparently, you’d made a mistake while filing paperwork last week, and now the whole office was behind, scrambling to make up for lost time. learning about your slip up had been hard enough. being absolutely screamed at by your boss had pushed you over the edge. you had managed to finish your hours, but now, you practically sprint for the safety of your apartment.

you take the stairs two at a time, dignity long abandoned. when you get to your front door, your hands shake trying to unlock it. a sob tears through your throat. why, god? what did i do to you?

the door finally swings open, and you stumble inside. kicking off your shoes, you walk straight to the bedroom, where you sink to the floor and begin to cry. 

thump. 

you raise your head. what the hell was that?

thump.

a beat passes, then a voice from the other room: “hello? y/n, is that you?”

the door to your bedroom opens, and there he is. seonghwa, your boyfriend of only three months, stands in the doorway. upon seeing you, his face cracks.

“y/n? babe, what happened? i thought i heard you get home, are you okay?”

hearing your boyfriend’s concern only made you cry harder. frantic, he hits the floor next to you and tugs your hands away from your face. “talk to me. what happened?”

your voice is croaky and broken, but you manage to recap the story from work. by the end of it, seonghwa looks almost as emotional as you do.

“what a douchebag. who does he think he is?”

you reach out and gently swat at his thigh. “don’t talk all big.”

he manages a small smile. “i’m sorry, y/n. tell me what you need right now. let me help you.”

“can... can you just hold me?”

this is something seonghwa knows how to do. he crawls over to you and leans against the bed, hugging you tightly from behind. “yes, i can do that.”

a beat passes.

“you know i love you, right?”

your heart skips a beat. he’d never said that before, not like this. but you don’t say anything. you reply by sinking deeper into his hold, letting out a long sigh. 

he understands.

yunho: 

“okay, seriously. where are we going?” you look over at your boyfriend, feeling the edges of anxiety begin to creep in. 

yunho, who’s seated at the wheel of the car, looks over at you, his eyes crinkling slightly. a smile tugs at his lips. “why are you worried?”

you huff and slouch back in your seat. your seat belt digs into your shoulder, making you cringe. “i’m not worried.” you lie. “i just want to know where you’re taking me.”

“well, i already told you- it’s a surprise.”

“yes, but-” you hold up your hand, counting on your fingers. “it’s not my birthday. it’s not your birthday. it’s not a holiday. it’s not our anniversary. so. what is it?”

yunho glances at you again, exasperated. “you are so difficult. just let me treat you, you dumbass.”

“treat me? yunho-ah, i swear to god-”

“don’t! it’s nothing big! now shut up- you’re on talking restrictions.”

you gape at him. “talking restrictions? i’m not a six year old-”

“oh look, we're here!” your counterpart shouts over you. he turns the vehicle and pulls into a parking lot you don’t recognize. you peer out the window, craning your neck in order to see the building in front of you. “is this a hotel?”

yunho hums a confirmation. “your bag is in the back.” 

- - - 

ten minutes later, you find yourself standing in what’s probably the nicest hotel room you’ve ever graced. you gape at your boyfriend, hoping he realizes how crazy he is.

yunho sees your expression and laughs, his hand instinctively rising to cover his teeth. “do you like it?”

you stutter, unable to hide your surprise. “i- yes, of course. but, yunho, you said it wasn’t anything big!”

he laughs again. “nothing’s too big for you, love.”

your face flushes. god, you love him. yes, he is a hopeless romantic, and yes, he says cheesy things. but you’d been in love with him for a while now, you think. since before he’d even asked you out. you’d always admired him from afar, but yes- you know it was love all along. 

“um. is there...a particular... reason? for this?” you manage. surely this isn’t as  random as it seems.

yunho crosses the room to stand with you, wrapping his long arms around you. you step back in surprise. “yunho-ah?”

he buries his face in your neck, inhaling. “yeah, i-yeah. i guess i just wanted to say-” he pulls away to meet your eyes. “i just wanted to say- to show that i love you.”

you blink, and say the first thing you think of. 

“thank you?”

yunho looks surprised for a moment- then bursts into laughter. you gasp, trying to backtrack. “wait- no- no i love you too,” you scramble.

yunho bends over, only laughing harder. “babe-” he says between wheezes. “that was so funny. i love you so much.”

you’re laughing too, now.

yeosang: 

your finger traces circles on the fabric of the couch, and you sigh contentedly. you glance to your left, gazing up at your boyfriend, who’s scrolling on his phone. you and yeosang are only a few months into your relationship, but nights like this already feel so natural.

but looking up at him now, you can’t help but feel that something’s a bit off. you sit up, brushing his arm away from you. “yeosang?”

he looks up at you, eyes wide and curious. “what?”

“are you alright?”

he looks a bit taken aback. “what do you mean?”

“i don’t know, you just- you seem stiff. did something happen? or- was there something you needed to talk about?”

for a moment, he doesn’t answer. then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “you’ve gotten really good at reading me, you know that?”

you tilt your head. “sure, i guess? what did you need to talk about?”

“oh, it’s just- um- something i wanted to say...” his voice trails off.

you lean forward, worried. “what?”

you’ve known yeosang so long, but you have no idea where he’s going with this. what if he wants to break up? what if he wants to go to third base? do people even say ‘third base’ anymore? what if-

“it’s just. um.” he pauses again, even after interrupting your thoughts. “iloveyou,” he says in a rush. as soon as the words leave his mouth, yeosang’s face turns beet red. his expression twists into a grimace.

you feel your own face betray your surprise. “wait, what?”

he won’t meet your eyes, but your heart speeds up. “yeosang-yah, what did you say?”

he responds in a mumble. “i said i love you.”

you feel so many things at once, and you want to say a million things. you’d dated before, but no one had ever told you they loved you. you feel your eyes begin to burn from withholding tears. “yeosang.”

he looks up at you, his eyes begging for something more.

“i love you too.” you cut him off before he can ask. “and before you ask- yes, i’m sure.”

you reach forward, running a finger down the side of his face. “you dumbass.”

his eyes widen in mock anger. “dumbass!? i can’t even-” he grabs your waist and shoves you back on the couch. “i can’t believe you!”

you burst into laughter. “big words for a man who’s just confessed his love!”

san:

“i don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”

you throw your hands in the air, exasperated.

san’s face flushes red. “well i don’t know what you want from me!”

your mouth drops open as he turns away. “no. no fucking way- you can’t walk in here and start a fight just to leave! you don’t know what you want from me? you started this!!”

your boyfriend turns to face you again. his eyes burn with barely controlled anger. “no- i wanted a civil conversation. you were the one who went and got all defensive.”

“san, you’re accusing me! how the hell am i supposed to respond?”

“i didn’t accuse you of anything. i asked you a damn question.”

“an accusatory question.”

san rolled his eyes with so much emotion it hurt to watch. you clench your hands. you couldn’t believe him. don’t misunderstand- you and san usually got along great, and the two of you had been in a steady relationship for a few months now. but san was so emotional- in a way you just weren't. you didn’t understand his emotional insecurities. so when he came home asking why you felt the need to ignore him in favor of your other friends- you couldn’t believe your ears. 

back in the moment, you make a groaning sound. “san-ah,” you begin, trying to keep your voice even. “i just don’t understand what makes you think all that.”

san is still upset, clearly. he scoffs, tossing his head. “please, y/n- you’re always making excuses to leave, it’s like you don’t even want to see me!”

“but that’s not true!”

“just the other night you went out with friends, when i specifically said i wanted to be with you!”

“but san- i hardly see them either! you know how busy i am-”

“i’m even busier than you are!” he argues.

“don’t cut me off!” you seethe. “besides, why is it any business of yours when i want to go out? i don’t-”

“of course it’s my business!” san steps closer, pointing down at your chest. “it’s my business because i love you!”

your words die in your throat. “i...what?”

he loves you? now? he’d never told you that before... 

what just happened?

san grimaces, and the anger leaves his face. his whole body seems to deflate.

 your own pulse seems to slow down, and you sigh. san runs a hand through his hair, looking away.

“y/n, i... i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to-” he cuts himself off, as if afraid of his own words. 

“san....”

“no, i’m sorry. i can’t believe i blew up like that.” he looks saddened as he takes a step towards you. his hand brushes your elbow, and you shut your eyes. 

you hear him whisper; “can i hold you?”

you nod, then practically melt in his arms. “i’m sorry, too.” you mumble into his chest. for a moment, the two of you just stand there, letting the embrace linger. 

“did...” you begin. “did you mean it? what you said?”

san pulls away to gaze into your eyes. he brushes a stray hair from your eyes. 

“yeah. yeah, i did. i’m sorry i told you like that.”

you pause. “it’s okay. i love you too, though.”

for the first time tonight, your boyfriend smiles.

mingi:

it’s snowing. and for the first time this season, too. you can’t help but grin as you watch the snow fall, face peeking through the curtains. 

“are you actually that excited?”

you turn to look mingi, your boyfriend, in the eye. “yes, yes i am. are you telling me you’re not?”

he smiles- a big, genuine smile, the one you’d grown to love more than anything. “no, i am. i’m gonna throw it at you, though. just a warning.”

you make a face, and turn back to the window. you and mingi had only been dating a few weeks, but you’d known each other much longer than that. though your relationship had only just begun, it felt like you’d been dating for years. 

many of your girlfriends had said the beginning of a relationship was- while being the most fun part- also the most stressful. there was supposed to be a lot of pressure. but you didn’t feel that way with mingi. you had kissed him only when you felt comfortable, you had met his family only when you felt comfortable... though you hadn’t slept together yet, you felt no rush. part of you wondered if you were doing something wrong, but mingi seemed happy too, so you tried not to overthink it.

the snow continues to fall in large chunks. after a few moments of peace, you hear an odd shuffling behind you. you turn around, and mingi is standing there, wearing a full winter parka, looking like he was about to pick you up. 

“dammit!” he curses. “i was gonna try to scare you.”

“ha-ha.” you deadpan.

“yeah, yeah. put this on.” he tosses your own coat at you, and gestures for you to hurry.

“hold on, you don’t actually want to go play in that, do you?”

“that’s exactly what we’re doing.”

you start to protest, but mingi cuts you off by snatching your coat back and zipping you in it himself. then he grabs you by the waist and drags you off the couch. 

after several minutes of wrestling, you find yourself outside in the cold, sitting on your butt in a snowbank. “oh, it’s on, you little-”

mingi laughs and runs away, then picks up an armful of snow and tosses it in your face. you blink in shock, and he doubles over, laughing even harder than before.

“song mingi! you have some nerve!”

the next 15 minutes consist of you and mingi trying to see how much snow you could force onto the other, along with the occasional laugh break.

finally, mingi collapses onto his back in the snow, breathing heavily. you plop down next to him, giggling. 

“i hate you,” you say between hiccups of laughter.

he turns and grins at you, before turning his face to the sky. “well, i love you.”

you catch his eye, unsure that you heard him correctly. “come again?”

“i love you!” he shouts at the sky, then rolls over to meet your gaze. before you can manage an answer, he leans over and presses his cold lips against yours.

wooyoung:

you take another deep breath, determined to keep your heart rate down. 

you are going to do fine. it’s just one interview...

oh, but you really want this job. what if you do terribly?

you shove the thought out of your head. you glance at the clock. 10:56. 19 minutes until you either do amazing or fuck up your entire career. you reach over and pick up your phone. you’d left early, so should you just try to kill the time?

you have a text. it’s from wooyoung, your boyfriend.

wooyoung: hey

wooyoung: if you see this before your interview call me 

you wonder what he could possibly need from you right now, but you hit dial anyways.

you and wooyoung were... a lot. for a while, you’d been in a “relationship that’s not really a relationship” type of thing... but he’d only officially asked you out a few weeks ago. you liked him a lot, actually. you loved how outgoing he was, and how much he seemed to care about you. and his friends were nice. plus, he was- well- not bad on the eyes.

he picks up on the second ring. “hey!”

“hi?” you ask. “was there something you needed?”

on the line, wooyoung fakes a gasp. “i can’t just talk to you whenever i want?”

“you asked me to call you.”

“whatever.”

you sigh, laughing a little.

“anyways,” he continues. “i just wanted to see how you were doing. i know you were worried.” your heart flutters at the thought that he was thinking of you now. but the interview...

“oh.” your mind turns back to the event to come. “right. uh, i’ll be okay.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, wooyoung. i mean, i’m definitely nervous, and i can think of 1000 ways this could go wrong, but overall, i’m alright!”

your boyfriend laughs. “i know. really, i know you’ll do well. you’re one of the smartest people i know- they’d be fools to turn you down.”

- - - 

three hours later, you sit at your kitchen table, mindlessly picking at your lunch. across from you, wooyoung looks concerned.

“baby, is the food bad, or...?” 

you look up. “no! no, not at all! i’m just- i’m just not very hungry.”

wooyoung’s eyes crinkle with sympathy. “you’re nervous?”

yes. yes, of course. you have no idea how that interview went. but you were positive that the man in the grey suit hated your guts, even though-

“y/n-ah,” your boyfriend calls you back down to earth. “it’ll be fine. please eat.”

you shove some of the food into your mouth, more to satisfy him than yourself. suddenly, your cell phone rings. the sound makes you jump. you pull it out answering it automatically. “yes?” 

as the voice on the other end of the line talks, you nearly drop your chopsticks. wooyoung leans forward, trying to eavesdrop, and you shoo him away. 

a minute passes, and you slowly lower your phone as the woman on the line ends the call. your boyfriend is staring at you. 

“who was that?”

your voice is froggy. “wooyoung- i got the job.”

a beat passes, then he leaps up. “you- you did?!? i knew it! oh my god!” he grabs your wrists and yanks you out of your seat. he spins you in a frantic circle, ending it by slamming you into his chest, hugging you hard. 

“i knew you could do it, baby. wow, i love you so much.”

your heart skips a beat at these words, but wooyoung himself doesn’t seem to catch them- he keeps talking, because that’s just who he is. but you don’t miss it.

you know he meant it. 

jongho:

“boom! look at that one!” you laugh, fitting together another set of puzzle pieces. 

jongho, your boyfriend, glances over, letting a small smile escape his lips. “it’s upside down, babe.” 

you look back down at the pieces, realizing he’s right. 

“oops.” you giggle, flipping them upright. “i think they do go on the left, though.”

you’d been so excited for today. you had done nothing all morning, only being able to think about what you were going to do with your boyfriend later. nowadays, with ateez’s popularity, you had very little alone time with jongho. you’d only been dating a short while- but you still wanted to see him as often as possible.

so when he’d come up to your apartment holding a jigsaw puzzle, you immediately agreed to participate. you’d never been particularly good at puzzles, but jongho seemed to enjoy them. it’s the calm, you think. there’s a lot of chaos in his day to day job, so it’s really not surprising that he enjoys things like this. 

you watch his hands as they roam across the table, searching for edge pieces. 

he has such beautiful hands.

“oh, y/n-ah- can you hand me that one there? the blue?”

you hand him the cutout. “what is this supposed to be again?”

“uuh-” jongho hesitates, glancing at the discarded box on the floor. “an alaskan sunset?”

the two of you meet eyes, then look at the table. he bursts into laughter. “are we doing something wrong? alaskan sunset...” he manages.

god, his smile. you love his smile, probably more than anything. you didn’t see it too often- that full, gummy smile of his. your heart flutters as you watch him laugh.

he meets your eyes again. “how are we bad at this? it’s a puzzle!”

“well, it’s your puzzle, and it’s 2000 pieces! who willingly does 2000 piece puzzles?!” you begin to laugh too.

jongho’s chuckling ceases, and he reaches over to grasp your wrist. he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “i love to see you laugh like that.”

you feel your face burst into flames. you sheepishly try to pull your hand back. “jongho-yah...”

he smiles again and tugs you closer, placing his forehead against yours. for a moment, he just looks into your eyes, his own sparkling with curiosity and adoration. then he closes his eyes and leans in, pressing his warm lips against yours. 

the kiss is tentative, inviting. you lean into it, hoping he catches on. he does- he begins to kiss you harder, parting your lips with his own. this goes on for a moment before he pulls away.

you almost whine, wishing he hadn’t ended it so quickly. but looking at him, you can see his face is red, and he won’t meet your eyes. before you can truly wonder about his well-being, jongho comes in again, stopping just before his lips meet yours.

he looks down at the floor, his lips barely brushing yours. “y/n.”

you make a small “hmm?” noise.

his words come out in a low whisper. “i think i’m in love with you.”

you almost jerk back in surprise. but instead, you let a beat pass in silence. then you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his chin. “and i think i’m in love with you.”

<333

[thegeneralguy]

A good role model

Hello! Thanks to @amalianetwork for helping me out with this story. Its a bit shorter than what I usually post on here, but it struck some heart strings inside of me. I hope you enjoy it.

Twitter | Blog

“Come on Matt! We’re going to be late for the festival!”

The excited shrieks came from a young child not older than ten years of age. His wavy blonde hair was encased in a blue baseball cap, and he was wearing an old button shirt. He was grabbing the hand from an older young man, pulling him forward with haste. Both boys looked very alike, age being the most differentiating factor between them.

“Ease up Cole, your number starts at seven. There’s plenty of time.”

“Yes, but I want to rehearse one time before the show. Mrs. Davis said all kids in our class had to meet an hour before to practice our song”

Matt advanced reluctantly, feeling uneasy in his attempt at formal attire. He adjusted his badly-knotted tie and tried his best in accommodating his oversized shirt. But he knew it was a necessary sacrifice, because this was supposed to be Cole’s “big night”. He would do anything for his little brother, even if it meant dressing as a buffon. The boys were rushing through the parking lot of the local theatre, amongst a sea of other families heading to the entrance. They entered the building and immediately headed backstage to deliver Cole to his class. Matt made sure his small bowtie was in place, but when he tried to take the cap from him, Cole swatted his hand away.

“Cole, you know you’ll get in trouble if you throw a fit over that cap again. All the kids in your class have to be dressed the same.”

Cole pouted and grabbed his head with both hands, securing it on his head.

“Please let me keep it. I’m scared to perform without it.”

“Okay you win. Just this one time though. You’re a big boy now, there are some rules you have to follow.”

“You’re the best Matt!”, said the little boy hugging his brother.

“Just remember to have lots of fun! I’ll be watching you from the front rows. And remember, once your act is over we gotta go.”

“That's not fair! Mrs. Davis is gonna take us all for pizza once the show is over.”

“I’m sorry C. You know Aunt Gertrude doesn’t like it when we go out late.”

“I don’t like Aunt Gertrude. She’s mean.”

Matt kept a straight face not to give a bad example, but he knew what his brother was talking about. Their aunt was a real menace sometimes. Especially when her rules were disobeyed.

“Don’t be like that buddy. Aunt Gertrude has been nice to us, so we have to obey the rules of her house. Besides, I’ll take you for pizza on the weekend. What do you say?”

“Yay! Thanks Matt. I’ll hurry up after the show, I promise. See you later!”

Cole then turned around and sprinted towards his group. Matt looked at his brother tenderly, remembering all they have gone through together. The blue cap was originally his, a gift from their father. They never had a lot to begin with, and after his parents were gone, the cap was one of the only mementos he had from them. He remembered hugging it terrified, as the police explained to him with gruesome detail for a twelve year old how his parents had been killed in a mugging. Cole had been only five at the time. Their aunt was their only living relative, so they were placed in her house. Cole couldn’t stop crying during the first night, so Matt gave him the blue cap and told him as long as he had it, his father would be there with him. Five years had passed, and the little boy still took the cap everywhere. Convincing Cole to take it off to wash it was a real hassle sometimes, but Matt managed. He was a good big brother after all.

Matt went to his seat and watched the recital in silence. Group after group they performed, excited families bursting in applause every time their kid went onstage. The young man was growing increasingly nervous, watching the minutes turn into an hour. The show was taking too long, which meant arriving at his aunt’s too late and having to deal with her wrath. He was lost in thought when suddenly Cole’s group was onstage. He cheered and applauded his little brother, who along with his classmates presented a potpourri of popular songs. He immediately recognized him due to the blue garment sticking out of the sea of white shirts. Once the number was done, he stood up from his seat and went to meet his brother backstage to take him to their aunt’s.

Their Aunt Gertrude was a solitary woman, preferring to live alone and far away from any other neighbor. The little house stood right at the edge of the woods, standing lonely amongst the dark trees. The car was parked on the driveway, so Matt knew immediately their aunt was home. He prepared mentally for the fit she was about to throw when she saw them coming in through the door. Once they made it inside, he sent Cole straight to his room and went into the living room, where his aunt was sitting on her usual chair watching TV.

“So, look who finally decided to show up. This isn’t a hotel you know.”, said the fat woman looking hatefully at the scrawny teenager.

“I know Aunt Gertrude. Cole had a school event he couldn’t miss, so we stayed out until late.”

The woman sneered at Matt, and then continued watching her show.

“You know misbehavior has consequences right? You were out past dinner time, so there won't be any dinner for you.”

Matt felt the rage coming up from his stomach. He disliked the woman a lot, but he knew she was the only reason the brothers were allowed to stay together. She knew that too, so she made sure to exploit that fact every time she could. He didn’t mind missing dinner, he was used to it. But Cole had to eat, or his stomach would hurt again and he wouldn't be able to sleep.

“I can miss out on dinner today and tomorrow if you want, but let Cole eat something. It was a tough day for him.”

“You should’ve thought that before breaking the rules. Rules are necessary, or else you will end up like your good for nothing dad. He got my sister killed, you know. Only a bad person does that.”

Matt tightened his fists so hard his nails dug into his skin causing some bleeding. His father was his aunt’s favorite subject, always belittling and berating him. But he was a good man, very hardworking. A real example for Matt. His only mistake was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Don’t you dare talk about him…”, he grumbled quietly. His aunt let out a cruel cackle, and glared at him angrily.

“Or what? You are just like him, you know. A useless dead weight under my roof. But not for long. You got one more night. After that, you’re turning into an adult, which means you gotta earn yourself a life.”

Matt had been so busy with his brother that he had completely forgotten about his birthday the day after. His aunt had been telling him she was going to kick him out that same day, but he always thought she said that only to intimidate him. Thinking about leaving Cole with that monster alone sent a chill down his spine.

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking you little asshole? As soon as you’re eighteen, you’re legally not my problem anymore. Besides, it’s good you learn how the world works. Not that your father ever taught you that. In fact, I think Cole was lucky to grow up without his bad example!”, said the woman laughing loudly. “Now, better get your shit ready. I’m calling farmer Joe tomorrow to see if he has some job for you. If you’re lucky he might even let you stay in the barn with the rest of his boys. Now, get out of my sight. My next show’s about to start.”

Matt just turned around and left completely speechless, hearing the loud music from the TV and his aunt laughing as he went upstairs to his room. Cole was already showered and wearing his pajamas, the blue cap still on his head. Matt sat down next to him on his bed, trying to keep his composure and not burst into tears.

“Listen Cole, I have to tell you something,'' he said, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the right words. “You know tomorrow is my birthday, right?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t forget. I even wrote it in my calendar to get you some chocolate.”, he said excitedly before realizing he just ruined the surprise. “Oh no, I just ruined your present.”

“No buddy, it's okay. You know I love chocolate.”, said Matt grabbing the little boy’s head. “But listen, tomorrow I’ll be eighteen. And that's a very special number. So special, that people invite you to participate in certain activities!”

“What do you mean?”, asked Cole with a puzzled look on his face.

“Well, farmer Joe has invited me to his special club on his land, so I’m very excited I can go now. There’s only one small problem, I have to go sleep there too so I can do everything the guys there do.”

Cole just stared at his brother, tears welling up behind his eyes.

“You’re gonna leave?”

“Don’t be sad buddy. This is a great opportunity for me! Besides, I’ll come to visit you every day, I promise.”

Cole threw himself at Matt, his little arms embracing him as strong as they could. Tears ran down his rosy cheeks, and he could barely articulate the words due to the knot in his throat.

“But I don’t want you to go! I don’t want to be alone in this house. I’m scared.”

“I know buddy, I know.”, said Matt hugging his little brother. “But listen, remember what I told you about that cap? As long as you have it, dad’s going to be here with you. And so will I.”

Both brothers embraced for hours, refusing to let each other go. Cole cried until he fell asleep, so Matt tucked him into bed and waited until it was late enough to go down and steal some food for the boy. His aunt went to bed just before midnight, so he had to wait until she was gone to go to the pantry. He was almost falling asleep when he heard the TV going off, and the heavy steps of his aunt going into her room. He hesitantly stepped out of their bedroom, and swiftly went down to get some food for Cole. His body was very light, so that helped him move silently on the wooden floor. He brought up some snacks, leaving them on Cole’s night table, completely missing the clock just striking midnight.

He went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Taking off the horrible oversized shirt he stared at himself in the mirror. He was practically just skin and bones, lacking the proper nutrition and exercise for a good development during puberty. His dirty blonde hair was pulled back on a bun, looking just a shade darker than his brother’s. His aunt was right, he was pathetic, scrawny and weak. Barely a fitting example for Cole. But he didn’t want his brother to grow up without him. It was already bad enough he had to grow up without a dad, only to have his big brother be taken away too. He wished that both of them could stay together. That he was enough for his little brother, so he could provide him with the life he deserved.

The lights in the bathroom flickered, and the window was suddenly opened by a strong gust of wind, startling Matt. He started to get lightheaded, grabbing the small sink to prevent himself from falling. “It’s probably hunger”, he said to himself. But the more seconds passed, the worse he felt. He started sweating cold, drops falling down his face and his pale body. He watched a shadow creep over his skin, thinking he was starting to faint from starvation. When he raised his hand to touch the darkness, rough bristles greeted his fingertips. He was growing hair, all over his body. He watched it get longer and thicker, a thick mat covering his chest, and crawling down his flat stomach painting a thick treasure trail on his skin. Tufts of hair poked out from under his arms, his sparse armpit hair getting far denser. The shadow then climbed up his neck, fully flourishing on his face to form a short beard. Matt felt its roughness with the palm of his hand, fully enthralled by the sensation.

He then felt his bones elongate, shooting him a few inches towards the roof and lengthening his limbs. He looked like that creature slender-something kids were so obsessed about. Once his skeleton finished its growth, the muscles followed suit. He felt incredible heat emanating from his body, as each muscle twitched and grew to enormous size. Size packed on his chest, fully forming two massive pillow-like pecs sticking out from his torso. His cleavage was so deep he could probably put his entire thumb in it, and probably crush it too if he squeezed hard. Muscle packed on his shoulders as well, growing like two bowling balls. It made him look monstrously wide, fully condemning him to a life of having to go through doors sideways. His arms surged with power and grew as well, fully surpassing the width his legs had before. Thick hairy pythons hung to each side of him, resting at an angle due to the thickness of his triceps. His back then rounded out like a shield and expanded into a hairy muscular landscape. The lats were so big they looked like the could fall off of him at any moment.

He heard his stomach grumble, as it blew forward sticking out just a few inches behind his chest. Thick abs could be seen on the curve of his belly. His ass blew his dress pants into oblivion, each cheek swelling like a Christmas turkey. The legs followed suit, thickening into titanic proportions, powerful enough to sustain such a heavy top. Even his feet grew a few sizes, fully completing his transformation. Matt just stared at his new body speechless, feeling control over each fiber. He flexed his big arms, and bounced his heavy chest. A deep chuckle left his throat, and he realized his voice grew much deeper as well. He was so entertained by his new figure, he missed the clumps of hair falling from his head. His hair thinned out a little bit, and shortened itself into a clean cut, contrasting with its previous unkempt image.

Matt looked like a new man. His kid used to tell him he looked the size of a barn, just like that Disney song he liked from the film with the talking furniture. He was very bad with names, but he knew what movies his son liked. Matt scratched his head, confused by the thought of having a child. He was only eighteen, barely old enough to have a kid. But a body like this couldn’t belong to a young kid. A body like this took years of dedication, of pain and sweat, of discipline. He looked like the perfect dad, strong enough to protect, and big enough to climb over like a jungle gym. Matt smiled looking at himself in the mirror. His features changed and rearranged themselves into those of a masculine man. His nose was bigger and his brow stuck further out. Even a cleft formed on his now square jaw. He looked tough, but also lovable.

The maelstrom of memories fully blew Matt’s mind away, turning him into a perfect dad. He felt his dick snake up under his belly, and his balls drop lower and heavier like a mature plume, virile enough to spread his seed wherever he wanted. The rush of testosterone triggered more changes in him. His muscles got denser, more lived in. Crow feet printed themselves next to his eyes, and his skin got rougher fully aging two full decades.

“I’m one sexy motherfucker.”, grunted Matt, flexing before the mirror. He dedicated years of hard work and discipline to his body, and it showed. He loved the tight feeling of a shirt about to burst due to his titanic arms, or how the buttons popped open on their own due to his heavy chest. But even his glorious physique wasn’t his most valuable treasure. That was his son.

Reality rearranged itself around Matt, as memories of Cole growing up with him changed into those of a father raising his son. He remembered how tiny he looked when he held him in his arms, or how scared he looked when Matt dropped him in kindergarten for the first time. He remembered the recitals, the little league games, the birthday parties, the nights with Cole on his bed due to a nightmare, the camping trips. Everything he did, and had, was for his son. He was happy to grow up next to him, so he could teach him about the same hard work and discipline he put into his own life. Hopefully, Cole would grow up to be a good man like his father. And with those genes, hopefully big and strong too.

When Matt came back to his senses, he was standing in a nicely furnished bathroom. He adjusted the glasses on his face, and checked himself one last time before going out. The short sleeved shirt looked perfectly fitted to his big body, his arms almost ripping the tight sleeves apart. He came out of the bathroom to find the luxurious interior of a suburban home. He wanted his kid to have all his necessities covered. The memory of the tiny house in the woods and the monster within fully erased from existence.

“Come on Cole, you don’t wanna miss out on a good pizza, do you?”, he shouted, his deep bass shaking the foundations of the house.

“I’m coming dad!”

Young Cole came rushing down the stairs. His blonde hair shined brighter, and his blue eyes sparkled with excitement. He took his coat and headed towards the front door, where his dad was waiting for him. Matt noticed the small blue cap on the little table next to the door.

“Aren’t you gonna wear your cap?”, he said, handing it to his son. Cole just smiled at his dad, and turned the cap away.

“I’m not scared anymore dad. I don’t need it.”

Matt just smiled and opened the door for Cole. The happy family then headed out into the sunshine to live the rest of their lives together. Nothing would be able to separate them.

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

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ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he’s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

-

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

-

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @yooforia @oceanablue @sara-alonso @pedrosmustache @feelingmadclever @hnt-escape @radiowallet @obsessivelysearching @sugarontherims @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @linnie0119 @1800-fight-me @autumnleaves1991-blog @toilet-keeper @evelynseventyr @metalarmsandmanbuns @shannababyy @sambucky21 @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @theorganasolo @jagi-yaaa @mrsparknuts @tacticalsparkles @beskarboobs @wintermuteway

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Scandalous(1)

An infamous Influencer that is known for getting into drama befriends ImAllexx, George doesn’t trust them one bit. 

Gif cred. @sdmngifs

Pairing: George Memeulous x Reader

WC: 2.2k+

Pronouns: They/Them

____________

For the entire day, Alex seemed to constantly be on his feet. At first, George really didn't pay much attention to it, after all, sometimes people just have busy days. Usually for George, his days weren't anything special. He'd just wake up and lay around the house. He'd make sure to film a video every couple of days and could be found playing a bit of FIFA or COD. 

George didn't have much of a reason to leave his shared flat. He'd usually go over to one of his friend's places to hang out or film a collab, every now and then he'd go out shopping to get a couple of things for a video or just the flat. Still, George wasn't the type of person to find reasons to rush around or try and get as many tasks done as possible, it was one of the many perks that came with being a YouTuber.

It was normal to see Alex running around once in a while. He'd like to go out and do things like playing football with a few of his mates or just going out and being around people. But today seemed different, as though he was planning for something important to happen. 

At first, George didn't feel the need to ask his flatmate about what was going on. But while the day rolled on and Alex seemed to only go back and forth from making phone calls to typing away on his computer, George's curiosity had begun to eat himself up from inside.

As the afternoon rolled around, George found himself seated on the couch. He had been wasting a good portion of his day watching whatever he could find on the TV that was actually interesting. Earlier he had filmed a few videos for his second channel, he looked at the Reddit page for usual funny content and then proceeded to go on a Twitter page and look at nostalgic videos and photos for a second video.

Usually with some luck, George would be able to find something good to put on TV, but today just seemed like one of those days where you couldn't find anything good to watch. So as a final resort, he had turned on some Spongebob cartoons, it seemed like he only had enough luck to have the old cartoons from the early 2000's play. 

While watching the yellow sponge on TV, George had checked a few of his social medias, wondering if there was anything else that was going on that could possibly hold his attention for longer than ten minutes.

Maybe he just needed a new hobby, something to keep attention for more than five minutes. FIFA was fun, but you could only play it so many times.

"Hey George?"

The sound of his flatmate's voice had pulled him out of his thoughts. Standing behind the couch, Alex was typing away on his iPhone. He had taken a quick look to make eye contact with George before returning to his text messages. Turning around, the brunette man gave his attention to his flatmate, "What's up?"

"I don't know if you remembered, but I'm having someone come out to the UK to spend a couple of days with me to film some collabs and just get to know each other," sliding his phone in his back pocket, Alex shoved his hands into his pockets. "Hopefully this turns out all good."

How did this slip his mind? Alex had been mentioning he was planning to do this with someone for the past couple of weeks. As the days rolled on, when he became busier and busier, it all made sense. Alex was only making sure everything was going to go smoothly when whoever was going to come to the UK.

"Shit, that totally slipped my mind, sorry," George brushed a hand through his hair with a short sigh. "Are they gonna stay with us or are they staying at a hotel? Maybe they're doing something completely different."

"Hotel," as he responded, Alex began to rock back and forth on the heels of his feet. "They're gonna get here in two days and when they show up me and a couple of our friends are gonna go out and get some drinks, just to get more comfortable with one another. You coming with us?"

"I don't see why not," giving a shrug, George leaned his head against the palm of his hand, supporting his head to sit at a certain angle. "Are you interested in this influencer or something, you keep saying you wanna get comfortable with them."

"Well, they aren't really my type. Also, they're gonna be hanging around us for a few days, so of course I wanna be comfortable around them."

"Who even is 'they'? Does this influencer have a name?" George let out another sigh as he looked up at his flatmate. 

"They're Y/n L/n."

Y/n L/n, George had heard that name a few times in the influencer world. One thing he knew for sure, Y/n was much bigger than both Alex and George's channels combined. So why was Y/n planning to come and hang around them for a while?

That wasn't the only question rushing through George's mind, from what he had heard about Y/n (which was very little) he knew they were a very scandalous person. Having them around didn't seem like too bright of an idea, maybe Alex just wanted to collab with them to gain a bit more in subscribers... George knew it'd be smart to keep Y/n at arm's length while they'd be in the UK. After all, they'd only be here for a couple of days, so how hard could it be?

"Oh."

"Just 'oh'?" Alex raised a brow at his flatmate, "What is it?"

"Nothing, I just took me a moment to realize who they were," George turned back to face the TV, implying the conversation had come to an end.   

"Alright, I'm gonna get back to making sure the flat isn't a typical mess," Alex sighed, taking a step back from the couch.

"Cool," George mumbled as he watching the yellow sponge on TV run beside a pink star. 

If Y/n got Alex caught up in anymore drama, he'd have a fit. He had seen his flatmate come so far since the last time drama was in his life. There'd be a chance that would grow bigger and bigger everytime they hung out that Alex could get caught up in a scandal. 

Even though Alex's a grown adult, sometimes he could make really stupid decisions. But that was the thing, Alex is a human being, he's allowed to make mistakes. All George wanted for this whole collab to into come back around and bite Alex in the ass. But it was too late, Y/n was going to be here soon and whatever happens, just happens. There wasn't much George could do besides distancing himself away from Y/n.

"Alright, I think I have enough shirts, I better go double-check to see if I have my toiletries all packed up," Y/n had mumbled under their breath in the midst of packing. Even though they were a big YouTuber and could simply pay someone to pack for them, Y/n had decided to pack for this one trip. 

"Y/n, where the fuck are you?" 

The sound of someone's voice had become louder, Y/n could tell their friend was entering their bedroom.

"I'm just in the bathroom, Bret!" They had responded while looking underneath their bathroom sink for a few more toiletries. 

"Are you seriously leaving?" The one and only Bretman Rock stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking down at his friend. 

"Well yeah, I've been planning this trip for the past couple of weeks," Y/n looked up at the makeup influencer. Bretman and Y/n had been friends since forever, they had gone through so much together. 

"You're gonna miss James's party next Saturday," he moved aside, letting the other influencer in the room past by. 

"It's just one party," they had let out a short scoff while working on packaging their bathroom items properly. "James always throws parties, I'll go to the next one."

"Fine bitch," Bretman had tossed himself onto Y/n's bed, making their suitcase jump a little with everything else that had been laid out on Y/n's bed. "Why are you even going to London?"

"Well, I'm planning to meet up with a friend to make some videos together and just hang out," Y/n shrugged as they tucked away a few more items into their suitcase.

"Who?"

"He goes by ImAllexx on YouTube."

Bretman shook his head as he watched his friend, "I have absolutely never heard of them... ever."

"Yeah, his channel is smaller than either of ours."

"Lemme tell you now, if you're secretly doing some long-distance relationship with him and haven't bothered to tell me any tea yet, I will literally kill you," the raven-haired man laid on his back, beginning to fidget with the rings that sat on his fingers.

"I'm telling you now, Bret. Alex is only a friend, he's like a brother," they tsked at their friend as they zipped up their suitcase, finally finishing packing. 

"Fine, but if I find out you end up hooking up with some British boys over there and don't tell me... like I said, you'll be  dead bitch."

"Calm down, you know I can't keep secrets from you," Y/n flashed a cheeky grin at their friend while sliding the suitcase off of the bed. "I had two hours before I head to the airport, what do you wanna do?" For the past couple of weeks, Y/n had been counting down the days until they would leave for London. No doubt about it, they were excited. It wasn't often for them to make friends with other Influencers or people in general. So when they got the chance to make friends with a small commentary YouTuber that went by the name of ImAllexx, they had made sure to be as kind as possible.

At this point it was truly hard for Y/n to make friends, most people didn't like them based on the rumors that had spread about Y/n. Others that usually tried to be Y/n's friends were merely using them for money and fame. It became hard for Y/n to trust people and get close to them. So how did Alex pull off gaining Y/n's trust?

Y/n one day had been scrolling through YouTube, looking for something to watch. At this point, they had seen almost everything, vlogs, challenges, makeup, drama, and more. But one video had popped up into Y/n's recommended videos that had caught their eye.

'We Need to Stop Y/n L/n.'

It was normal for Y/n to see these types of videos, usually they'd come from Drama channels trying to cancel them. But this one had come from a YouTuber with the name, 'ImAllexx'. It was normal for Y/n to scroll when they came across these types of videos, but the video seemed a bit intriguing considering the thumbnail was only a simple picture of themself against a blue background.  So of course, Y/n clicked on the video only to hear; "Hello everyone, I'm Alex..."

Y/n found the video quite funny, when they'd watch videos made on them, the videos were typically quite harsh and mean. With Alex, he seemed like the type of person to be able to take a joke. His whole video was on an Instagram post Y/n had made a week or two before Alex had posted his video, he had just been taking the piss out of the photo as a joke. 

And after finishing that video and having a laugh, Y/n continued to watch more of Alex's videos, just to see if he was seemingly a decent guy. And somehow, they got hooked on Alex's videos. And by the end of the day, they had binged a good amount of his content. 

A few days after discovering Alex and his content, Y/n had decided to check out a few of his social medias. That's when Y/n had found out he was already following them on both Instagram and Twitter.

When Alex checked Instagram a while later, he was surprised to find that @y/nl/n was now following him. Y/n was almost four times(if not more) the popularity size of Alex, so how had they noticed him? He was a bit nervous at first, why would someone like Y/n follow him?

Instead of anxiety getting the best of Alex, he had decided to do something to try and figure out why of all people, @y/nl/n had decided to follow him. So he had been careful with sliding into Y/n's DMS, only to ask why they had followed him. ANd moments later, Y/n responded to him. 

'I've just been binge-watching your content lately and I thought that you were funny so I followed you. :)'

At first, Alex felt like it could possibly be a trap, but he continued to message back and forth with Y/n. After a while, Alex had realized that maybe Y/n wasn't as scandalous and dramatic as people made them out to be. As the days rolled on and they continued to talk, they had ended up developing a friendship.

After a couple of months of talking and coming closer and closer, Alex had asked if Y/n would want to fly out to the UK from LA to film a couple of collabs and hang out in person. Y/n had easily accepted his invitation, and just like that, A date was set for Y/n to fly out to London.

Taglist: @ivory-raptor @breakfast-cereal @snowcones404​ @golden-hoax​ 

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday!

Red placebo pills work better than blue ones.

Eyebrows evolved to make humans look friendlier to each other.

It takes four seconds for a silence to become awkward.

You retain information better if it is accompanied by a pun.

The Chupa Chups logo was designed by Salvador Dalí.

All ten species of the most venomous snakes in the world live in Australia.

In the 1760s, 33 Cock Lane in London was believed to be haunted by a ghost called Scratching Fanny.

It requires seven to eight trees to provide enough oxygen for just one person per year.

Two-thirds of all the people in the world who have ever lived to be 65 are still alive today.

Psychology says no matter how angry you get, you always end up forgiving the people you love.

Within 200 yards of the flat in Islington where George Orwell had the idea for 1984, there are now 32 CCTV cameras.

The 'coffee break' was invented in 1952 by the American Coffee bureau.

The palm trees in Los Angeles, are the result of a job-creation scheme in the 1930s.

There are more phone calls placed on Mother's Day than any other day of the year.

India used to be the richest country in the world until the British invasion in the early 17th Century.

Human saliva contains a painkiller called opiorphin that is six times more powerful than morphine.

Climate change is making it harder to sleep. On average, you are losing 44 hours of sleep a year due to higher temperatures.

All polar bears are Irish: they’re descended from brown bears that lived in Ireland over 10,000 years ago.

On the set of ‘Jaws’, the shark was named Bruce after Steven Spielberg's lawyer.

Cacozelia is the use of foreign words to make one appear un peu plus cultivé.

In 2002, a NASA intern stole a safe full of moon rocks, sprinkled them on a hotel bed, and had sex with his girlfriend on top of them.

Football World Cup referees have to learn swear words in other languages.

The sign-language equivalent of a tongue-twister is a ‘finger fumbler’.

Inserting a swear-word in the middle of another word, such as ‘abso-fucking-lutely’, is called an Expletive Infixation.

The thermostat knobs in many hotel rooms don't work; they're rigged to save electricity.

Disneyland shut down its gondola rides because too many people were having sex on them.

According to new research from Dartmouth College, people are at their most miserable when they are 47.2 years old.

About a third of the UK population has discussed the weather within the last hour.

Dancing Queen gets 16 times as many Spotify streams as the average ABBA song.

Breakups are hard to deal with because the body and mind goes through withdrawal, like drug addiction, we become addicted to love.

‘Billie Jean’ was about a girl who climbed over Michael Jackson's wall one morning and accused him of being the father of one of her twins.

King George VI's wedding was not broadcast on the radio in case people listened without removing their hats.

Not realising his microphone was switched on, Ronald Reagan once joked that the US was about to bomb Russia.

The harder you work for something, the greater you'll feel when you finally achieve it.

The first iPhone virus was the Ikee worm which infected thousands of Australian iPhones. Its only function was to change the phone’s wallpaper to a picture of Rick Astley.

In 2019, a Danish politician paid for ads on Pornhub. When questioned, he said, "Half the internet is porn and you need to be where the voters are."

In 1923, an American man was killed trying to open a coconut with the butt of his (loaded) revolver and died from a bullet wound to the abdomen.

In 2019, a 31-year-old North Carolina man named Aaron Smith created and launched a new dating app, but there was a catch. He was the only guy on it. He banned all other men from joining.

In 2003, six monkeys were funded by the Arts Council of England to see how long it would take them to type the works of Shakespeare. After six months, they had failed to produce a single word of English, broken the computer and used the keyboard as a lavatory.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.