#petition to make BEN stop being an ass

[evenbreewrites]

Unedited

Harsh sun rays hit my eyelids harshly. Fuck. I force my eyes open covering them with the back of my hand . My head hurt .

" fucksakes" i groaned . She stood by the window . In my crispy white shirt . I could see her petite figure through it.

" wake up sleepy head.." she says  laughing, jumping in bed playfully . " i made coffee " she anounces ,stretching her hand towards the side table.

On the table was a tray with a coffee pot and two small glasses. She comfortably poured the content from the pot and handed me a cup.

Wait. What was she doing here by now?? Who the hell told her she could make coffee in my kitchen??

Just like that . My mood changed and i could feel this was a wrong day.

" what are you still doing here?" I asked harshly

" what do you mean what am i doing here victor?" She asks me back with some stupid seductive smile on her face.

The drunk me would have fallen for that , am sure but me? Victor ?? I didn't think so

She came closer to my face as if to plant a kiss on my sanctified lips when i grabbed her leavin the hot coffee spilling on my white sheets.

" fuck" i cursed now more annoyed.

" okay, fine am leaving" she says raising both her hands in defeat. I entered the bathroom leaving her changing into her very small glittering dress.

I decided to shower cold., hoping maybe it would cool me down. As the cold water fell on my body so did the memories from last night came back .

I should really stop this. This was the fifth time in a row i brought home a girl from the club.

Fuck Mila. She knew I didn't like waking up with a girl still in my house but she still choose to stay and it being her second time here she ought to know . Considering i made it clear the last time that she should be gone by six in the morning , of which she obliged but still chose to ruin my day today.

About twenty minutes of self proclamation in the shower , i finally got out and got ready for work.

" good morning sir" annette greets me as i alighted the stairs to the main door. I don't reply to her stupid greetings, as in whats good about this morning? Nothing. It was already bad some thirty minutes ago .  I thought to myself.

There was no traffic . Very unlikely for a thursday . The building was busy. Everybody seemed to know what they were employed to do . It was silent . Only the taps of the keyboard filled the air .

I made my way to my office

" good morning sir" greeted Ben opening the door to my office . As always I didn't reply

" sir Pauline from Climentine will see you today at exactly ten forty five.."

" cancel." i cut him short.

"But si..."

" cancel." I cut him short once more this time looking him in the face.

He swallows hard ." Right away sir" he answers then excused himself .

Today was just the day. The wrong day , the bad day. I didn't feel nice and after hours of staying behind my desk eyes glued to my computer, i knew i couldn't do anything today .

I fish my phone from my pocket and dialed Jays number and between the first and second ring a 'yoh' came from the other end

" yoh, where your stupid ass at?" I asked

" still at the office, whats up? You good?"

" talk of a bad day man. I literally can't do nothing"

" Tina's place in twenty minutes?" He asks

"See you " i say back before hanging up.

The rate at which i was bored couldn't let me wait for atleast five minutes before leaving for Tina's

The cafe was a three-five minutes walk away so there was no need for me taking my car.

I sat at jays favorite place in the cafe just by the window. It was a small cafe , clear and the massive glass windows all around it made it more bright and lively but with a twinge of old school theme brought about by the ancient chairs and tables.

" can i get you anything?"

I turn around and i come face to face with the perfect cat face in the world. With extra big black eyes

"Huh" i managed to say

" can i get you anything? " she asked again

Still astonished by her beauty traits i lost my words

"Huh yes ...can i have coffee please. Triple espresso with no sugar" i told her.

She pretends to write it down but watching the circles her pen made on the paper, i could bet it wasn't my order she wrote down.

" thats all?" She asks still not tearing her eyes from the small notebook in her hand. And suddenly i was curious. I felt like looking at the book.

" yeah that's all". I said and without a word or a stare she left for the counter.

Lucky for me, the counter was some tables away in-front of me . Guess what that meant?? I could check her out all through my time here.

It was awkward though. She was dressed in Tina's male outfit. The loose white t-shirt and the gray trousers. Okay it was weird maybe to me because i thought it was a rule that the female waitresses put on dresses here and to be honest that was one of the very few reasons why we came here. Jay was obsessed with legs.

Five minutes later and my coffee arrived.

" can i see your note book" i found myself saying.. it was actually more of a statement than a question

" excuse me ?"she asks shocked

" your note book, may i see it .... please" i asked her stretching out my hand.

She looked shocked and shy at the same time. Her eyes were not only big but beautiful also. They were not black at all now that i stared at the . They were a mix of dark brown and gray with long eye lashes and i tend to get lost deeper into them each time she butted her eyes.

" man am sorry am late" hats voice comes through and i looked away from her standing up to greet my guy.

" can i get you anything?" She asked Hay as soon as he was settled in his chair.

" yes please madam. Passion juice with marble cake" he says all smiles and i knew he was about to do or say something stupid.

This dumbass couldn't wait for a minute before he bursts out laughing " her eyes did you see them " he asked me through his stupid laughs and honestly I hadn't planned to laugh with him but you should hear Hay laugh. I kicked him under the table as soon as i noticed the lady coming back.

" excuse me" Jay called the girl before she left

" sorry, please I'll have cappuccino ?"

" okay?" She said it more as a question than a statement

" oh and another thing..i have never met a girl like you my entire life so i was wondering if you've been told today , you have really beautiful eyes "he  compliments her " wine later in the evening maybe?" He asked

" jesus Jay" i chocked on my coffee. Dude just asked the girl out that direct

" what i just want to.." she shoved the marble cake into Jays mouth that he was shut quiet.

"You talk too much' she leaned towards him and said

I was shocked. As in I didn't see that coming. And with that , she turnedand left our table and i burst with laughter while handing Jay some serviettes .

After more hours of talking after moving on from Jays incident she comes back with the bill . She pushed it to my side of the table and left.

I open the bill book and i see a torn piece of paper with a hand drawn . The hand was just from the wrist and the way the watch was drawn could tell she was a professional and thats when it hit me that it was my hand she had drawn in her notebook. I throw her a glance and she smiled back .

******

How is it??

Feel free to comment like and critique.

[inkinmyheartandonthepage]

Coming Home

AU – Peter Stark was kidnapped when he was just three years old. Tony and Pepper never stopped looking for their boy. Years later, Peter finds his way back home.

You can find it here on AO3

Part One

Tony Stark smiled as he felt warm arms slip around his neck, petite hands settling over his heart and arc-reactor.

“What are you looking at?” Pepper hummed in his ear.

“Just viewing the latest YouTube clip of the Spiderling vigilante,” Tony said, eyes never leaving the Stark Tablet in his hands.

“What has he done this time?” Pepper asked.

“On today’s vigilante swing,” Tony tapped at the screen, pressing play on the video. “He rescued a stray dog about to be hit by a car.”

Pepper watched as the blue and red figure swung down in the front of a car, the horn blaring loudly, and scooped the dog up with his free arm, just before the car came speeding past. The one they were calling Spider-Man landed lightly on the sidewalk, putting the dog down safely. She watched as the blue and red vigilante patted the dogs head before he was shooting a web at the nearest building and swinging away.

“Amazing,” Pepper said softly.

“That tensile strength of that webbing is off the charts,” Tony shook his head lightly. “I wonder if they’re the manufacturer of it or if they’re getting it from somewhere else.”

Pepper placed a kiss on her husband’s cheek. “You could ask him.”

“I’m going to have to,” Tony sighed.

“What do you mean?” Pepper asked.

“Fury wants to know who this guy is,” Tony said. “He’s starting to make a big name for himself and you know Fury, he likes to know everything about everyone. Especially when they are enhanced like the Spiderling appears to be.”

“He saved a dog from being hit by a car,” Pepper pointed out. “I don’t think he’s dangerous.”

“Fury thinks he could be Avenger material,” Tony switched the tablet to sleep mode and settled back into his wife’s embrace. “I disagree solely on the onesie he’s wearing.”

Pepper chuckled. The suit the vigilante was clearly a handmade costume. Whoever the vigilante was, they were obviously on a budget.

“Boss, the FBI are calling,” FRIDAY’s voice filtered through the workshop.

Pepper frowned, pulling back from Tony’s shoulder’s, allowing her husband to spin around on her stool. She raised a brow at his confused expression. “What did you do now?”

Tony scoffed. “I didn’t do anything. How do I know they’re not calling about you?”

Pepper smirked. “Because I would never get caught.”

Tony mirrored her smirk, sneaking an arm around her waist. “Patch them through FRIDAY.”

“Mr Stark. This is Agent Williamson from the FBI.”

Both Pepper and Tony froze as the man introduced himself. The name was one they knew well but had not been one they were expecting to hear from for another few months.

“What can I do for you, Agent Williamson?” Tony asked, arms tightening around his wife’s waist, his voice steadily controlled.

“Mr Stark, my apologies for calling so early,” Agent Williamson said.

“It’s fine,” Tony said. “What can I do for you?”

“My office was alerted when a fingerprint was run through our system yesterday,” Agent Williamson said, always getting straight to the point. “Mr. Stark, the fingerprint was a match to your sons, Peter Stark.”

Pepper’s hands flew to her mouth, Tony’s tight grip on her waist the only thing keeping her upright. She locked eyes with her husband, watching as the blood drained from his face and his lips became a thin line.

Eleven years ago, while Tony had been kidnapped and trapped in a cave by a group of terrorists for three months, Pepper had been left alone with their three-year-old son Peter. To her horror and devastation, Peter had been taken in the dead of the night. While Rhodey searched for her husband, Pepper and Happy had worked with the FBI to find their son.

Tony had been returned to her, harmed, injured but alive but they had never found Peter. As it came to light that it had been Obadiah who had been the one to orchestrate Tony’s kidnapping and Peter’s, the man had never given up their son’s location before he died. They had poured over Stane’s files, but the man hadn’t left a trace. That had not stopped Pepper and Tony from using all their available resources into finding their son, including SHEILD but they had never uncovered where he was.  

“Are you positive?” Tony managed to choke out.

“We brought in the boy for some questioning last night and to run a blood sample against the one you provided us,” Agent Williamson said.  “Are you available to come to the FBI?”

“We’ll be there in ten,” Tony said before he had FRIDAY end the call.

“Peter,” Pepper whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Tony.”

Tony buried his face in Pepper’s stomach, clutching her tightly. He took a few steadying breaths, trying to get his thoughts in order but he couldn’t get past the constant stream that they had found his son. Pepper’s fingers found their way into his hair, gently brushing through the strands. He shuddered, pulling back and swallowing hard. He stood, gently cupping his wife’s face and wiped away her tears. He kissed her forehead before pulling back.

“You get the picture of Peter and I’ll get Happy to meet us out the front,” Tony said.

Pepper nodded, almost frantically, before she spun on her heels and left the room.

Tony swayed as she left, his heart clenching painfully. He took a few uneven breaths before he ran a hand down his face. “FRIDAY, call Happy and get his ass out the front.”

*

Peter Parker’s legs bounced as he took in the small waiting room. He sat in one of the comfy chairs that was provided, leg bouncing as he waited. There was a tall plastic smelling plant in the room and a painting hung on the wall. A table sat across one of the walls, refreshments available if he wished for one.

He didn’t, his stomach twisting with nerves.

He and May had been on their way home after eating at their favourite Thai restaurant when they had been stopped at the front of their apartment. By the FBI. They had offered no explanation other than they needed to come down to the FBI to sought something out and if they didn’t cooperate, they would be arrested.

Peter’s first thought was that they had found out about his alter-ego, Spider-Man. On the car ride there May had tried to get them to answer why they were being detained but they had not said a word. When they arrived, Peter and May had been separated and he hadn’t seen his Aunt since.

The door opened to the waiting room and Peter straightened, eyeing the sharply dressed man who entered.

“Peter? I’m Agent Williamson,” the man introduced himself with an easy smile. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.” He crossed the room, taking a seat near Peter.

“I’m Peter Parker,” Peter introduced and then winced. The FBI most likely knew who he was since they had been waiting for him and May. “Where’s my Aunt?”

“Your Aunt is answering a few questions for us,” Williamson said.  

“What kind of questions?” Peter swallowed.

“May Parker is helping us clear up a few things for us,” Williamson smiled. “You aren’t in any trouble, Peter.”

“Oh,” Peter blinked. “Okay. That’s good. I mean – I hadn’t done anything to warrant being in trouble.”

“I know you haven’t,” Williamson said. “Peter, are you up to answering a few questions for me?”

“Um, yes, I guess so,” Peter shrugged. “What do you need to know?”

“Great,” Williamson smiled. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together. “How long have you been living with May Parker?”

Peter blinked, brows contracting together. “My aunt? Ummm, since I was six or seven. She and my Uncle Ben took me in when my mum and dad died.”

Williamson nodded. “Your uncle passed away recently, didn’t he?”

Peter looked down at his hands, watching his fingers twist together. “Yeah, about six months ago. He was – um – he was shot by a mugger.”

“You were there?” Williamson asked gently.

Peter nodded; his throat tight. “I – we were coming home. Uncle Ben had taken me out for ice-cream to celebrate an A I got in my chemistry class.” He took a shaky breath, his nose starting to sting. “We were just walking home.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Peter,” Williamson said.

Peter nodded. “Thank you.” He looked back up at the FBI agent. “Umm – the police took my statement months ago. Why are you asking about Ben?”

Williamson didn’t answer his question. “What do you remember about your parents?”

Peter frowned. He was beginning to think that maybe this had nothing to do with his alter-ego. “My parents?”

“Richard and Mary Parker,” Agent Williamson prompted. “What do you remember about them?”

“I know they were scientists,” Peter said slowly. “I don’t know what kind though. I remember my dad doing experiments with me. You know, stuff with magnets and dropping Mentos in coke. I – I don’t remember a lot about them.”

“Did Ben and May ever tell you stories about them?” Williamson asked.

“Uncle Ben was my dad’s brother,” Peter said. “He would tell me stories about them growing up. Uncle Ben told me about how my dad met my mum at a convention. They would travel a lot for their work. That’s how they died. They were heading out on a business trip and their plane crashed.”

“And you were staying with May and Ben Parker at the time,” Williamson said.

“Agent Williamson? What is this all about?” Peter asked. “Why are you asking me questions about my parents?”

“Peter,” Williamson's voice was gentle but controlled. “You had a police officer come to your school today, correct? For careers day?”

Peter blinked at the rapid change in conversation. “Yes.”

“And he went through the process of his job,” Williamson continued.

Peter nodded.

“He also went through the process of fingerprinting and how each one is unique. He even let your class participate in fingerprinting,” Williamson said.

“Were you there too?” Peter blurted out, confounded as to how the agent was detailing the officer’s presentation exactly. He didn’t remember seeing the agent there at all.

“No,” Williamson chuckled. “I spoke with that officer earlier today.”

“How come?” Peter asked.

“The officer put your class’s prints through our database to demonstrate how we use prints to find a person's identity,” Williamson explained. “When he did this, we were sent an alert when your prints showed up in our system.”

Peter swallowed. They knew. They knew that he was Spider-Man. Peter was sure that he had always worn his gloves when he was out patrolling but maybe he had slipped up and left his prints at a crime scene. Oh god he was going to be arrested.

“Oh?” Peter squeaked out.

“Peter, what I am about to tell you will be a shock,” Williamson said seriously. “But we are here to help you. Okay?”

Peter couldn’t speak and stared at the agent, willing his heart to stop racing in his chest. They were going to arrest him. They were going to take away his homemade suit and throw him in jail all because he was trying to help.

“Peter, your prints were in our system because we’ve been looking for you since you were a baby,” Williamson said.

Peter opened his mouth to defend that he wasn’t Spider-Man when the Agent’s words kicked in. “Wait – looking for me?”

“Peter, Richard and Mary Parker were not your parents,” Williamson said. “Your last name isn’t Parker.”

  *

May Parker straightened as the door to the interrogation room was opened. A female agent, dressed in an expensive looking back pant suit stepped into the room, the door clicking behind her. She looked around the same age as May, blonde hair pulled back into a severe looking ponytail. Strictly business.

“Where is Peter?” May demanded.

“Peter is safe,” the agent said, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. “I’m Agent Harper. I need to ask you some questions about Peter.”

“Is he okay?” May swallowed. “Is he in some kind of trouble?”

“He’s fine and not in any trouble,” Harper said, flipping open a file she had placed on the table. “You are Peter’s current guardian, correct?”

May placed her hands on the table, shifting in her seat. “Yes. My husband and I took in our nephew when he was six. His parents were killed in a plane crash.”

Harper nodded. “You were not related to Richard or Mary Parker, were you?”

“Only by marriage,” May pushed her glasses up her nose. “Ben was Richard’s brother.”

“Ben passed away recently, correct?” Harper asked.

May swallowed around the tight lump in her throat. “Yes. Six months ago. He was killed in a mugging. Peter was there with him.” She inhaled shakily. “The police talked to him about this already. They took his statement.”

“I have the report here,” Harper tapped the file with her pen.

“Then why did you ask me about it?” May snapped. She took another shaky breath. “What is this all about?”

“You continued to care for Peter, even after your husband’s death?” Harper asked, ignoring May’s outburst.

“Of course,” May huffed. “Peter’s family. My family. I would never abandon him.”

“Were you there for the birth of Peter?” Harper asked.

May blinked at the left fielded question.  “What?”

“Were you present when Mary Parker gave birth to Peter?” Harper repeated.

“I – no. No, neither Ben nor I were there,” May hesitated.

Harper nodded, making a note. “When did you first meet, Peter?”

Something churned uncomfortably in May’s stomach. “Three. Peter was three years old when Richard and Mary first introduced us to him.”

“Why so old?” Harper asked, cocking her head to the side. “Your first and only nephew and you only met him when he was three?”

“Mary and Richard weren’t living in Queens,” May argued. “They were away on business. Ben and I didn’t hear from them much – a phone call once a month was the most contact Ben had.”

“How well did you know the Parker’s?” Harper asked.

“Not very well,” May admitted. “They were always travelling for business and after Ben and I got married they had accepted a job across the country. They came back after three years and that’s when we learnt of Peter.”

“You didn’t question why they hadn’t told you about their first-born child?” Harper asked.

“Well, it was a little weird,” May agreed. “But Ben and Richard weren’t super close. Ben felt he could never live up to Richard’s expectations. He was a scientist and Ben wasn’t. Once we met Peter, we got swept up in him. He was adorable. Still is.”

“Did you often spend time with Peter before his parents were killed?” Harper made another note.

“We would babysit Peter when Mary and Richard were travelling for business,” May said. “Ben hoped it would bring him and Richard closer together and we adored Peter, so it was no trouble to us.”

“How long would he stay with you?” Harper asked.

“A week at a time, sometimes a little longer,” May bit her bottom lip. “What is this all about? Where is Peter?”

“When you were looking after Peter, did Mary or Richard Parker ever give you instructions?” Harper asked.

“Instructions?” May repeated blandly. “Like don’t let him eat the Lego pieces?”

Harper cracked a small smile. “No. Like if he was injured, don’t take him to the hospital? Did they ever tell you not to take him to certain places?”

“Not to me, no,” May shook her head.  

“Did they give Ben these instructions?” Harper asked.

May sucked in a breath. “I – I don’t know.”

Harper caught the stutter and her mouth tightened. “But Ben knew something?”

“Peter has asthma,” May swallowed, her voice shaky. “Ben always picked up his inhaler from the same place.”

“Where?” Harper demanded.

“Some chemist. I’m – I’m not sure. He always picked up a script before Peter ran out. Since – since Ben died, we haven’t needed to get one,” May rubbed her chest with a frown. “I’m not sure where Ben got the script from.”

Harper scribbled notes quickly. “You never adopted Peter when Mary and Richard passed?”

May shook her head. “We didn’t need to. In their will they named us Peter’s guardian’s.” She stared at the agent across the table from her, something twisting sharply in her chest. “You said Peter wasn’t in trouble. Am I in trouble?”

“You tell me,” Harper said, her voice never losing the tightly controlled sharpness of her tone. “Did you ever question Ben about Peter’s parents?”

“I never saw a reason too,” May insisted. “Peter was never hurt when we babysat. He was healthy, clean, had new clothes and toys. He had no learning disabilities. The opposite, actually. He’s incredibly smart, even when he was young. He was a perfectly happy boy and I had no reason to question anything.”

Harper nodded.

“Why are you asking about Mary and Richard?” May asked.

“May, were you aware that Richard and Mary Parker were not Peter’s biological parents?”

May stared at Agent Harper for a beat. “What the fuck?”

“Am I to take that as a no?” Harper quirked her brow upwards.

“What do you mean Peter isn’t biologically their son?” May demanded.

“Mary Parker never gave birth to Peter,” Harper said.

“So, they adopted him?” May asked. “Is that what this is? Is his biological mother asking for him?”

“Peter's parents have been looking for Peter for eleven years,” Harper said coolly. “Peter was not adopted by Mary and Richard, he was kidnapped.”

May sunk back into her seat, staring wide-eyed at the agent opposite her. She turned over the words in her mind, but she simply couldn’t grasp them long enough to understand.

“May, did you have any idea that Peter wasn’t Richard and Mary’s Parker’s son?” Harper asked.

“No,” May breathed out, blinking dumbly. “They – they kidnapped Peter?”

“We were alerted when Peter’s fingerprints were processed earlier today,” Harper said. “The FBI and his parents have been searching for him since he was taken eleven years ago.”

May covered her mouth with a shaky hand. “Oh my god.”

“Have you ever met a man named Obadiah Stane?” Harper asked.

May shook her head. “No, never. I’ve never heard of him.”

“May, did Ben know about Peter?” Harper asked.

Lowering her hand, May opened her mouth several times before any words came out. “I – I don’t know. He never said – never said anything. Oh my god.”

Closing the file, Harper got to her feet. “Let me get you some water.”

May said nothing as the agent left, her mind reeling. Had she and Ben really been raising someone else’s child? All these years and May had unknowingly kept a mother and father from their child. Had Ben known? Before Richard and Mary – those strangers – told Ben the truth before they died? Or had her husband uncovered the truth and kept it to himself?

Harper returned and May shakily accepted the glass of water, taking a few sips.

“Where is Peter?” May asked.

“He’s being informed of the situation as we speak,” Harper said.

“You’re telling him alone?” May cried. “How could you do that to him? Where is he? I want to see him.”

“You will shortly,” Harper said. “I just have a few more questions.”

*

Peter stared at Agent Williamson; not sure he had heard the man correctly, even with his super hearing. “What?”

“Richard and Mary Parker were not your biological parents,” Williamson explained.

“Oh,” Peter blinked.

When people asked Peter if he missed his parents, he said he did. It was true, but also not true. Peter didn’t remember much of his parents as he had been so young when they had passed away and he remembered they often left on trips. He remembered often staying with Ben and May and never feeling unhappy or scared. He did miss his parents, but mostly he missed the idea of what him and his parents could have been. But May and Ben had raised him, had given him a loving home and he couldn’t have been happier.

“I was adopted?” Peter frowned.

“Unfortunately, not,” Williamson said. “You were kidnapped from your family.”

Peter froze, limbs locking in his seat. “I don’t feel kidnapped. May didn’t – she wouldn’t kidnap me. I’m not even related to her and took me in.” You’re not related to any of them. “She kept me after Ben died. She didn’t have to.”

“Take a breath, Peter,” Williamson coached. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

“A lot to take in?” Peter repeated. “You’re telling me that I was kidnapped! That the people that raised me, gave me a home, weren’t my family at all!” He sunk back in his seat, crossing his arms and shoved his hands under his armpits. “I want to see May.”

“You will, soon,” Williamson said. “We just need to ask her some questions.”

“She didn’t kidnap me,” Peter nose stung with tears. “She wouldn’t do that. They never wanted kids.”

“Who?” Williamson asked.

“May and Ben,” Peter sniffed. “I asked them why I didn’t have a brother or sister once. They said that I was all they needed. They were never planning on having kids. But they took me in when my par- when they died.”

“Okay,” Williamson said. “Maybe they didn’t know.”

“May wouldn’t do that,” Peter said stubbornly. “She wouldn’t.”

“That’s what we need to get to the bottom of,” Williamson said gently.

Peter slumped in his chair as he watched the agent get to his feet.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Williamson said. “Can I get you any water?”

Peter shook his head and watched as the agent left the room, leaving Peter all alone with nothing but a tight feeling in his chest and wishing that this had all been about Spider-Man.

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Eleven: Part One

Previous Chapter can be found here

Warning: Language, mentions of blood and medical procedures

Note: Sorry for the delay on this one...

Chapter Eleven: Part One

A devastating pile-up on Main Street brought dozens of patients into the ER that Monday morning. Rain had been falling almost non-stop since Saturday afternoon with reports of flooding in areas surrounding the city centre. Paramedics and the Fire Department were having a rough time getting patients to the hospital and as a result, several commuters with moderately less life-threatening injuries had to be diverted to Thomas-Alderson on the other side of town. Ordinarily, she and Audrey would have been assigned onto ward rounds to maintain the status quo for the existing patients but as the first people arrived, all at some stage of critical, it soon became clear this was to be no ordinary day.

Audrey was due to take annual leave that week but she texted Sarah soon after 10 o’clock to let her know she was now on her way in. Greg had recruited two medics he knew from a private hospital in Lincoln, one town over. One was an award-winning neuro-surgeon; Sarah recognised him from a profile featured in an old edition of the AJM. He was considered something of a maverick round these parts but as the ER filled up with bodies and anxious, despondent families, they would gladly take all the help they could get. 

“OK, listen up. We have Trauma One and Trauma Two split between Morris and Stephenson. You three, I’m going to need as back-up, OK?” O’Brien was yelling commands at the team currently gathered just inside the part-covered Ambulance Bay and relishing every minute of it. He excelled in moments of great pressure. “Alex, Mark and Lina, you’re taking the minors. Use the suture lab but make sure they are kept far away from the Trauma centre as possible. They don’t need to see that.”

As Sarah watched the named trio jog off to their posts, her focus was quickly diverts to a waving Audrey as she ran into the building, flustered and wet from a sudden downpour. She caught Sarah’s eye and indicated the locker room to drop off her stuff before joining the group. More staff had gathered by that point, wanting to help in any way they could. The interns looks scared to say the least; Sarah couldn’t remember how long she had interned before coming into contact with something this heavy. This was going to be a harsh learning curve and if she had to bet, at least two of them would rethink their career path before the day was out.

“Sarah, you and Audrey and...Tom will cover the cubicles. Sarah, the man in five has also likely had an A.M.I. and ought to have a sed rate done for assurances. Greg, can you oversee them?” Greg nodded before scanning Audrey and Sarah, a somewhat sympathetic smile on his face. Sarah could tell this was as far from his comfort level as it was anyone else’s and no amount of private education could fully prepare you for being thrown in at the deep end. 

The stretchers were lining up thick and fast. One patient, a man in a designer suit, had most of his body covered with a blanket but not enough to hide visible blood and scratches covering his face and neck. An older man lies on a gurney next to him, looking trim and relatively clean except for his left arm wrapped in a checked towel of some kind or possibly someone’s shirt they had used to stem the bleeding. A woman further down has a makeshift eyepatch covering one side of her face, glass cuts peppering her skin, her trendy grey hair now streaked with red. They shock was evident on every single one of them. It was hard to know where to start.

“Call seventh and eighth floors and tell them we need as much space as they can give us.” Audrey yelled across at Beth, a young receptionist stuck in her spot, mouth open, aghast as what she was witnessing. “Beth! Come on now, girl.” There was nothing quite like Audrey’s voice to stir you into action as Beth fumbled for the handset and began furiously dialling numbers.

“I’m thinking we clear the easy cases as fast as we can and shift those guys upstairs to make way for the emergencies.” Greg suggested, surveying the corridor. “O’Brien said another two ambulances are en route as we speak. We’re gonna need the space.”

Audrey nodded in agreement, taking in the war zone surrounding her. “I think between us, we can stitch up and bandage quickly. Get them out and on their way home if possible.”

“Think you can break your speed record for bandaging?” Tom asked, moving through the growing crowd towards where the three of them stood, equally as dumbstruck by the sight before him. Tom was an upstanding member of staff, seventeen years with the hospital but with a youthful face that belied his impending middle age. Sarah had fond memories of him inducting her when she first started and was a fan of his friendly, goofy bedside manner. Kids loved him.

“I haven’t practiced in a while. I was hoping to get fair warning at least.” Sarah responded. A couple of nursing interns shuffled past carrying stacks of boxes filled with medical gloves and bandages. “It’s gonna be a long-ass day, folks.”

*

Sarah and Ben, a specialist she’d never met before, were tending to the elderly man she’d spied earlier that morning. He’d had a high dosage of a local anaesthetic that took next to no time to kick in and was causing him to drift off very few minutes. Ben didn’t seem worried, it would at least allow them to take a closer look at the deep cuts running from his wrist to his elbow. Within a minute, though, he spotted an artery visible just underneath the muscle closest to the wrist, and glanced at Sarah, worry etched across his face.

“If we touch this, it’s hame over.” he whispered, pointing his finger towards the pronator muscle, glancing back to the elderly man to make sure he was still out. “What are his current vitals?”

“No sensation radial, median or ulnar. Ulnar could be trapped, though. No pulses, temperature and colour as you see, and we’ve kept his arm elevated. He’s had 500ccs of saline by push, too.”

Ben nodded, taking a step back from the trolley to take stock of the man’s predicament. “What about an x-ray?”

“Sarah shook her head. “X-ray is backed up but he’s on the list. Should be less than an hour. Crit count is thirty-two-five.”

“OK. Not great but OK.” He thought for a second. “We need to get him into surgery as soon as we can/ Cancel the x-ray for now.”

Sarah nodded in agreement and called the OR. Ben remained standing in the room alongside her until he knew the plan of action. “OK, they should have a room in twenty minutes. Up on ninth.”

Audrey popped her head around the door and got Sarah’s attention. “All OK in here?” The look on both of their faces soon gave her the answer. “Can I steal you for a minute?”

Ben nodded for Sarah to leave and she followed Audrey out towards a nearby stock cupboard....

*

“....And move this leg for me, ma’am.” Greg was attempting to coerce an older lady, Matilda, into focusing on his small movements as he gently moved her legs and her arms to confirm that what she was experiencing was temporary paralysis from shock and not a more serious loss of feeling in her extremities. He’d called Sarah in to assist after she’d finished stitching and wrapping up a dozen or so other patients. Could have been more. She’d lost count when she hit double figures.

He gently worked her knee, massaged her calf muscle with two of his fingers, and then her ankle until she appeared to be more aware of what was going on. Sarah wanted to give her a hug. She looked completely lost.

“That’s very good. Now, can you tell me if you have any pain in your neck, shoulders or you upper arms?”

“No,”

“What about when I press here? How does that feel?” He moved his left hand to the back of her neck, pressing two fingers slightly onto her atlas and axis bones at the top of her spine.

“That feels OK.”

“That’s good, thank you.” He seemed satisfied she was OK as he continued to move his fingers down through the spinal bones, pressing on each one as he went to see if she flinshed or made any indication that something was hurting her.

Sarah moved a little more into the light so the woman could focus on her as Greg moved his way down her back. “Were you with someone this morning? Is there someone I can call for you?”

“Oh no, just me today.” The lady responded with a small smile. She flinched a bit when Greg moved back down to her right ankle and they noticed some blueish bruising now forming clearly around the lower tibia bones.

“OK, I think we’ll get the x-ray done on this foot and we’ll go from there. Sound good?” Greg smiled broadly, trying to instil some confidence back into her. To her credit, she smiled back at them both, light tears forming in her eyes.

“Hey, why don’t I come with you? It’s near the canteen, we can grab a snack on the way? I don’t know about you but I’m starving.” offered Sarah. Her eyes met Greg’s briefly and he smiled at her. It might be a good idea to keep her company for a little while given she was on her own.

The hospital had filled up more during the afternoon as people came in off their own accord, displaying various cuts and scrapes from flying glass and debris. Security had also noticeably tightened by the reception area, ready to help disperse the typical rubberneckers and ambulance-chasing lawyers that usually made appearances once that first initial panic had died down. Crowds of people had been congregating in the corridors and the consultancy rooms that once allowed patients to have private conversations with their family members and doctors had now been taken over by interns taking temperatures and recording blood pressure. Anywhere you dared to turn, someone needed you for something and it was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic. For a patient as fragile as Matilda, it would have been a scary place to be left on your own and Sarah had started feeling a little protective over this petite old lady.

“If you take her up, I’ll cover you in triage for a while.” Greg offered, taking his gloves off and throwing them in the nearby waste bin.

“Thanks. I won’t be long.”

The elevators were subject to the expected traffic jams as always but Matilda had managed to calm down somewhat in the few minutes it had taken to manoeuvre her wheelchair passed the throngs of people hanging around. Sarah was thankful for a few moments of peace as they waited for the next elevator to open up. She placed her hands back into her pocket and felt her phone having forgotten she had kept it on her. Pulling it out, eleven hours after she’d begun the day, she was expecting to see some messages but not the barrage that awaited her.

Jocelyn had clearly descended into full-blown panic and managed to convince herself that Sarah had been involved in the accident and was currently lying unclaimed on a gurney somewhere. God knows what Noah was doing to calm her down. He’d also messaged her separately to warn her of the increasing press presence currently gathering around outside and she remembered O’Brien’s earlier order for staff not to engage with any line of questioning off the back of instructions received from the local police department. It was becoming increasingly apparent it was a criminal case.

Shanna had helpfully messaged her at half hour intervals to explain the news footage to her and left a voicemail that sounded like she had butt-dialed her by accident, Lisa’s fretful voice also somewhere in the background. She opened up her group text function and typed a quick message in the hopes the signal in the hospital wasn’t too bad.

Sarah 9.14pm

Guys, I’m fine. We’re getting through it. People have responded well. Hopefully over the worst now. Speak soon xx

Had she become de-sensitised to it all? Maybe. In May the previous year she had taken Shanna to a Q&A by renowned medical Psychologist, Professor Alexander Shang, who had just published a long gestating and controversial report stating that slowly, over time and with enough exposure to bodily trauma, people in the medical profession were setting themselves up to become emotionally stunted. Ah. Because that’s what she needed to be thinking about right now.

Shans 9.17pm

THANK GOD. It looks awful. They’re saying a lorry driver was drunk n drove straight thu all those cars :( xxxxx

In all the stress and drama, she hadn’t stopped to figure out what could have caused this amount of destruction. She nudged Matilda’s wheelchair further up the queue and saw she was within closing distance of the next elevator. She flicked through the rest of her messages to make sure she hadn’t missed anyone. Matilda, bless her, had fallen asleep and a ported in front of her kindly allowed her to take his place in the waiting elevator.

Charlotte 7.44pm

I saw the news. I hope you are OK? Please let me know if you can x

She read the message back several times. Following their failed attempt at meeting up, Shan had encouraged her against replying. She hadn’t felt particularly angry; more so, disappointed. Rejected. Looking down at the message in front of her, she didn’t really feel anything.

The floor opened up in front of them both shaking Sarah from her focus and she carefull wheeled Matilda out towards the reception desk. They avoided waking her up to ask her more of the same questions she’d answered ten times already and Sarah was ushered into a quiet room around the corner and whispered a soft “goodbye” to her before leaving her in peace.

*

“You were great back there.” Greg said, siding up to her in the locker room. He was wrapping up his scrubs into a plastic bag and shoving them in to the bottom, of his rucksack. It wasn’t the designed one she’d seen the other day. She had also noticed he stopped wearing ties, too. He acted a little more relaxed, like he was trying to fit in.

“Just trying to keep things moving.” She shrugged. “You have a fan in Matilda by the way. She was singing your praises on the ward.”

“Ha, that’s cute. She was sweet, wasn’t she? I hope she gets some rest up there.” He pulled his watch from his trouser pocket and began clipping it back around his wrist. “You should really think about going back to Med School by the way. Can’t understand why you stopped. We could do with more level-headed people out there.”

That took her by surprise. She didn’t know what to say when her parents had asked her the same thing so Greg wouldn’t be in much more luck now. “Just...time. Money. I guess I was ready to just get out of there and work.”

“Yeh, I get it.” He grabbed his jacket from the hanger. “You can tell me to butt out but it’s not that hard, the entry exam. Hell, if I managed it, anyone can.”

Sarah wasn’t keen on progressing this line of conversation at 1 o’clock in the morning, and she couldn’t much make out Greg’s features through her growing tiredness. He still seemed bizarrely chipper.

“I know someone on the board up in New York. i could probably get you on the entry test easily enough, if you fancied giving it a go.” He grabbed his bag. “You’ve got some fans here and you worked through those patients like an expert. It’s something to think about at least.” He smiled at her before backing out of the room almost as quickly as he’d arrived.

Sarah was left pondering his words for a second before Audrey emerged from the shower, towel loosely wrapped around her as she attempted to carry half a CVS shelf in her arms. A second earlier and Greg would have been treated to a wonderful sight.

“What did Greg say? Is he going back to school?”

“No, but he thinks I should. Try getting me M.D. again.”

“Yeh? Think you will? ‘Cos I am all for balancing out the gender pool in this place.”

Sarah laughed, tying her shoelaces. “Honestly, it hadn’t much crossed my mind. I don’t think I could handle the pressure and being in school for another four years.”

Audrey raised an eyebrow. “Honey, I know you well enough to know you like a challenge. Plus there’s ways of working around the studies. You know full well you could handle it.”

“Greg knows someone on the board apparently. Said it would be easy for me to at least try the entry test again.”

“Knows a guy, does he? And what will you do for him in return?” Audrey could never be accused of being backwards in coming forwards.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Can he not just be a nice guy? Honestly, I think I’m warming to him. You should have seen him with this old lady today.”

Audrey side-eyed her and began rubbing moisturiser on her lower leg currently balanced on the chair in front of her. “He’s got you sussed then. Playing nice with little old people always gets in your good books.”

Sarah chose to ignore the implication and gathered her hoodie. “I love you, Audrey. Get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

*

“Sarah!”

The voice was clear, not quite a shout, and came from seemingly nowhere in the dark. She stood still on the drizzly sidewalk, the hospital gradually disappearing behind her in the heavy rain. She made little effort to stay for long; she was tired and she wanted her bed, so she turned to carry on walking home.

“Sarah, wait up,” came the voice again, a little more recognisable this time. She turned around just in time to see Chris paving towards her, his light grey hoodie spotted with raindrops.

“Chris?” she blinked a few times. “What the hell are you doing here?” It was a fair question; his flight wasn’t due to land until the early morning and she was pretty sure Scott assumed he was collecting him from the airport.

“I left early. God, you walk fast.” He stopped a few feet in front of her feighing breathlessness but she knew better. He could probably run a marathon right about now with energy to spare. Upon closer inspection, he looked shattered and the dark circles under his eyes gave away that he hadn’t slept much. 

“How long have you been waiting her?”

“Not long.” He lied. “Shan said you were staying later ‘cos of the accident so I just pulled up around the corner. You OK?”

Lines clearly marked his face with worry and when she finally realised what was going on, she nodded slowly. “Yeh. Yeh, I’m OK. It’s been a long day is all. Can’t complain really. Not compared to...” she motioned back towards the ambulance bay.

He turned back briefly in the direction she was looking. People were still milling around outside, puffing on cigarettes and talking on their phones. “Yeh, I bet. I saw the news, it looks awful. I can’t imagine how tough it’s been.”

Another pause. It didn’t seem right that he was here. “Night shift have taken over now so I’m just gonna try get some rest and come back in the morning.” She half-smiled at him, still not fully taking him in as he stood mere feet in front of her, his hands balled into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Fuck. Shanna said he was drunk at the wheel.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been paying much attention to the news.”

“No, yeh, of course. Sorry, I was just....I don’t know.” he snickered to himself awkwardly. He should have thought better than accosting her on the street in the middle of the night when she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else than standing there.

“Let me give you a lift home. Get there faster.”

“No, it’s OK. I’d prefer the walk.”

“Come on, Sarah. You’ll catch a cold out here and it’s dark and I don’t want you getting hurt.” He turned to take a step back in the direction of his car, half insisting but half worrying she was going to stubbornly reject his offer. “Please? I’m just down there.”

He was right and Sarah was glad to take the weight off her feet. She walked a little behind him until they reached his Audi and she removed her back from where it had been slung across her body and released a noticeable sigh as she sat down inside the vehicle. He put the seat heaters on and she felt the warmth gradually travel up her back and down her legs. 

“You been on your feet all day?” he enquired, looking across to see her lean her head back on the headrest, closing her eyes. The rain was coming down hard and blurring the windscreen but he wasn’t in any hurry to set off the wipers or start the car. He allowed her to sit for a moment, gathering her thoughts in what was probably the first moment of peace she’d had all day. She looked exhausted. “I take it you haven’t have a break?”

She shook her head slowly. “Time goes quickly when you’re busy.”

“i know that feeling.” he smiled at her. “Have you eaten anything?”

She shook her head slowly once more but she wasn’t altogether that hungry. Just tired. Just wanting to take off her shoes and lie down somewhere quiet for a few hours. It really didn’t matter where so long as it was dark. There were people currently inside who wouldn’t get that luxury for some time yet. “I could do with a drink.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Yeh? What were you thinking? We could easily grab some beer on the way.”

“Or whiskey. Something strong and warm. Might knock me out for a while.” she chuckled to herself not expecting to be taken seriously. He watched her look at the rain falling onto the windscreen in front of them. Exhaustion was radiating from her body and before he knew what he was doing, he reached his hand out to tuck strands of wet hair behind her ear.

“I have some at mine.” He offered. She leaned her head to one side to look at him, moments passing that felt longer than they were. He looked just as tired and would no doubt crash out as soon as he got home. It seemed wrong to disturb him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She decided, somewhat unconvincingly. Somebody here should be at least trying to think straight.

“I didn’t say it was a good idea.” he didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. “But you need a drink and I have plenty.”

She felt her resolve waiver the more time passed and the more they continued to look at each other. it could very well be the fatigue that was enveloping her and preventing her from thinking straight but she was finding it harder and harder to pull herself away. The last few messages exchanged between them that week proved the energy had shifted and no matter what they intended, things were not the same anymore. And she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

*

[wiltedthrone]

♡♛.  𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐘 & 𝐁𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐊𝐒 — 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘

Alright, so, the very first time we meet Audrey is a very uncomfortable scene to watch, for me at least, because she’s painted at this overbearing, shallow, annoying girlfriend. But there is SO MUCH to unpack in this scene that really shows a lot about Audrey’s character and I’m very excited to dig into this. *rubs hands together like a fly* It’s long so it’s going under a cut. It’s not edited bc I never proof read anything ever, so if there’s typos I swear I’m literate ok ok

I. BEFORE THE VKS ARRIVAL

Audrey, like many others, was very not peachy keen on the VKs coming to Auradon. But when Ben spoke to her about how upset his parents were about his proclamation and she saw how upset he was, she put aside her feelings and told him to follow his heart. She wanted to be a good girlfriend despite the fact she had mad anxiety about the VKs especially Mal coming to Auradon.

So Audrey was the third to sign the petition to stop the VKs from coming, which no one really knows if it’s a real petition or not, because they don’t even know if you can petition a royal decree, but it’s still kind of messed up considering Ben’s her boyfriend and he’s going to see that. 

Anyway Audrey also saw how much Ben had on his plate with the new kids coming, so she offered to help him with the welcoming committee. The ideas for the limo bringing them, snacks, the marching band, that was all her (even though she makes Doug put it together lmao).

II. THE VKS ARRIVE — AUDREY’S MASKS

This is my favorite part to dig into so here we go. Audrey is already not thrilled, but as Ben’s girlfriend she’s going to have to put on that mask. There are many instances where that mask slips and her insecurities and true feelings slip out, especially with Mal. When Ben and Mal start talking, you can see Audrey’s eyes dart back and forth to them and there’s a worried look on her face because here they are, very much having A Moment right in front of her salad and she can see that.

She’s very much threatened because hello, this girl is kind of flirting with her boyfriend and her boyfriend seems to be into it. She’s not just going to come right out and be like “Hey, um, are you flirting with my boyfriend?” Because that’s going to make her look insecure, which is what Audrey tries to cover up all the time. So she tries to put on her little polite Auradon princess smile and pretend that everything is okay.

If we’re sprinkling in some of those book influences—at this point Mal and Ben have dreamt of each other, Ben is starting to or has already fallen out of love with Audrey and I’m pretty sure that even though Audrey doesn’t know about the dreams, she can tell that things between her and Ben have changed. So she’s already insecure about her place in the relationship, especially since Ben, her boyfriend, could’ve chose, you know, literally any other villain kid besides the one whose mother tried to kill HER mother but haha coolcoolcool, she’s going to pretend it doesn’t terrify her because she wants to be a good girlfriend. But she’s still very much into Ben and is trying to hold on to something she might have already lost.

So instead of Audrey outright accusing Mal of anything, she jumps into that whole “Hey! Aren’t you Maleficent’s daughter?” speech because it’s going to put her back in the conversation and she’s kind of, in her own way, trying to appeal to Mal before shit goes down (or it could be her sneaky way of reminding Ben and Mal, hey um, this is the girl whose mother almost ruined my family, maybe DON’T flirt with her right in front of me????).

Audrey doesn’t share her feelings. She was raised to keep her mouth shut and not rock the boat. She especially can’t do that now when she’s supposed to be making an impression as Princess Audrey, girlfriend to Prince Ben. But god does her mask slip, especially when talking to Mal. You can see her real emotions start to come out as if she wants to say something but she’s remembering she can’t. Mal’s just starting to get under her skin and—

Ben claps—

—and just like that she’s back in Princess mode. She snaps like some kind of robot.

III. THE VKS ARRIVE — AUDREY BEING OBNOXIOUS & OVERBEARING

First things first, Audrey does the “annoying” things she does because

A) She’s trying to stake her claim, hi, hello Ben is her boyfriend

and

B) Hi, hello, she’s very insecure we established that.

But Audrey has a superiority inferiority complex and she knows how Ben isn’t going to put himself on a pedestal in front of the VKs so when he says, “I’m Ben” and she goes “Prince Benjamin, soon to be King!” she’s giving him the credit he won’t give himself because she’s proud of him???? And then when he introduces her as just Audrey, she’s quick to be like “Princess Audrey” and “his girlfriend” to stake that claim that hello, she is royalty and is a bad bitch, put some respect on her name and also Ben is her boyfriend, (which he wasn’t even going to mention) so, again, back off—which, doesn’t even work because immediately after that Evie is still all googly eyes over him so Audrey literally has to pull Ben back —

—as a reminder that hi, you’re still not a princess (which, from the POV of someone rooting for the VKs, it seems like a bitchy move for Audrey to point that out but she’s literally just stating facts) and Ben is still Audrey’s boyfriend. 

Then he and Mal basically eye fuck each other during their introductions and banter so like, THAT’S GREAT.

Then, when Audrey puts Ben’s arm around her (another PDA moment designed to show just how “in love” they are) he immediately shrugs her off like he’s uncomfortable to be around her, in front of these new kids, which is....ouch. How is she supposed to fend off these other girls from her boyfriend when he’s...not even acting like her boyfriend? And acting like he doesn’t like her? Or doesn’t acknowledge her as his girlfriend? And has those Moments with Mal?

But she saves face.

At this point, when Ben is about to offer himself yet again to be around for the VKs, there’s no way in hell Audrey is going to be okay with that after everything that’s just happened.

1) She already feels like Ben doesn’t like her and the things he does only make her feel more like that

2) Evie’s clearly into him

3) Him and Mal have this weird ass dynamic going on (flirting, they’re flirting)

Audrey’s about to crack. You can see it in the tight lipped smile. The shifting of her weight. The look in her eyes. So instead of cracking, she shifts back into Helpful Princess Mode.

So basically, from the very first day the VKs stepped on campus, Audrey was struggling to be seen and not fade into the background. She was fighting to keep Ben. She doesn’t even say anything rude, anything bitchy, anything unwarranted. She doesn’t put them down from being from Isle. She doesn’t say shit about Carlos having chocolate all over his face. Doesn’t make fun of their clothes. If you take her comment to Mal as a genuine thing, she was trying. She’s not some bitchy mean girl, she’s an insecure girl afraid of loses everything dearest to her. Afraid of making a mistake that costs her everything.

And she loses it all anyway. All her worst fears come true. She loses Ben, loses her friends, everyone pushes her to the background and forgets about her, Maleficent shows up and tries to take over Auradon. It doesn’t matter how hard she tries because she doesn’t win anyway.

[let-love-run-red]

Purple

AN: Hey guess who’s back, I’m sorry I left you all hanging for so long but here it is! Finally, the newest chapter of Daffodils!

Tags: @keithseabrook27 @imaginecrushes @but-kairis-not-that-smart @zeuniel @bittersweetbooke (I’m sorry if the tags didn’t work)

warnings: fluff, some mildly sexual themes towards the end, no smut yet loves

Luke shuffled around the little office tucked into the back of the club. After looking around the club, you'd decided it wasn't the type of club that raves and parties took place at, it was more like a bar where people who just wanted a drink or two would hang out with and didn't necessarily cater to the rowdy crowd.

"You're worried I can tell." Luke said, looking up from his desk where he'd pulled out a stack of pictures. You swallowed meekly. You remembered clearly how often Luke was around after Han left, helping Leia raise Ben during the shaky months afterward, the days Ben almost ran away, the days he'd climb through your window into your bed to cry on your shoulder with fresh scars on his arms and bruises on his knuckles from punching the wall.

"Of course I'm worried, aren't you?" You questioned Luke. He took another drink from his water bottle and shook his head with a grunt.

"Your nephew just started a fight in your club, beat somebody, and then got arrested, and you're not worried?" you asked incredulously. Luke looked at you with a quirked eyebrow as if begging you to continue your rant.

Instead, you sighed and put your head in your hands. This was all your fault, if you hadn't agreed to come to the show with Ben then Hux never would have showed up and Ben wouldn't be sitting in jail.

"He's been arrested before." Luke said, very matter of fact, while looking through the stack of pictures. He plucked one out and handed it to you. The picture showed a 13-year-old Ben, dressed in a black hoodie and jeans sitting in a holding cell in the police station pouting while someone took the picture of him. 

"Took that the last time he got arrested for picking a fight. He beat them up too, had a good reason though." Luke said. You tilted your head, why had he taken a picture of Ben instead of helping him?

"Don't worry, he just got fined, Leia and I paid it, then grounded him for a month and made him work off the fine. And he didn't kill anybody this time so worst case he gets a fine, maybe a night in jail, and he's done." Luke explained. That did make sense, it was in self-defense, Ben hadn't thrown the first punch. You looked up to see Luke fiddling with his computer and a USB stick, when you realized what he was doing. Luke had hidden cameras all around the club, and he was pulling the footage from them.

"C'mon, you'll need to tell them what happened down at the police station." Luke said, heading out of the office and walking through the now empty club. 

"Ms. (y/l/n), what happened to provoke the fight?" The deputy asked as she sat down across from you. She was petite, with curly black hair that stopped just above her shoulder. 

"Well, Armi-, Hux, he climbed onto the stage and started getting in Ben's face. Calling me names, threatening me, so Ben got between me and Hux and he put his hands up, then Hux charged him and someone pulled me out of the way and then everything is just," you paused and put your hand over your mouth as you remembered the thwack sound Ben's head made as it snapped back against the ground.

"Ok, hey, it's ok. You're not in trouble. Now, did Ben do anything to start the fight? Did he say anything?" The deputy asked. You thought back and shook your head, Ben hadn't said a word in response to Hux's taunts. 

"No, he just put his hands up when Hux wouldn't back down. He was just trying to defend me." You responded.

"Ok, now why was Armitage upset?" 

"I um, we broke up last week. He didn't take it well, he kept coming to my house, I've been staying with Ben and his mom the past few days." You explained. The deputy wrote down a few notes on her notepad as she nodded along, then looked up at you with a smile.

"Well, with what you've told us and the footage from Mr. Skywalker to corroborate, the assault and battery charges against Ben will be dropped. He was defending you and did nothing to instigate the fight." You felt the weight lifted off your shoulders.

"However, he will still be charged with resisting arrest. Since there was no harm to an officer it will be a misdemeanor charge and he'll only be charged with probation for three years and a fine of $400." She explained. You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Probation, in this case, just means that he can't get picked up for the same crime in the next two years or he'll be punished with jail time." The deputy explained. You nodded, pursing your lips.

"Well, that's all we needed you for, thank you Ms. (y/l/n), you can wait here, and we'll have Ben out in a minute." The deputy said, standing and offering her hand for you to shake. You took it and stood, turning when you heard a commotion coming from the back of the station where they had the holding cell.

"Hey, hey! you said the charges were dropped why are you still walking me out in cuffs?" You heard Ben snap. You heard the jangling of the chain on Ben's jeans as the cops bustled him from the back towards the doors of the station. You felt overwhelmed upon seeing him and rushed towards him.

"Ben!" You cried as you ran towards him and threw your arms around his neck, standing on your toes. He lowered his head and tucked it against your neck, letting out a deep sigh and relaxing himself against you. The officers finally let go of his arms and uncuffed him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your waist.

"god (y/n) you're ok, they dragged me away and I didn't know what happened to you and-" You cut Ben's rambling off by pushing your face against his neck. Ben sighed and pulled away from you, looking up to see Luke walking out of a separate office.

"No no, thank you chief. I promise you won't see him in here again, don't worry about him." Luke shut the door behind him and walked swiftly towards you and Ben, his cloak billowing behind him.

"Benjamin Lando Solo, I cannot believe you'd be involved in a fight in my place of business." Luke hissed as he reached up and grabbed Ben's ear, dragging him out the door. You could hear snickering from the officers behind you. You followed close behind as Ben winced and grimaced. He tripped over his feet as Luke dragged him out of the building and towards his old beat up car.

"I understand, that boy was a, a kriffing idiot, but getting in a fight? I thought your mother had raised you better." Luke said. Ben pulled himself away and straightened his shirt, stomping his foot against the ground.

"Luke, I get it I was stupid. But, if you knew, if you knew what he did, then you'd have done the same thing." Ben said, running his fingers over the purple bruises forming on his knuckles. Luke's stance softened as he watched how Ben shuffled his feet against the blacktop.

"(y/n) what's wrong?" Ben asked when he saw you sitting by yourself tucked in a corner of the hallway while everybody else was at lunch.

"Nothing." You said, wiping your face with the sleeve of Ben's blue jacket you'd stolen a few days ago. You sniffled and pulled your knees up closer as Ben sat down on the ground and shuffled towards you.

"(y/n) somethings wrong, please tell me what it is?" Ben asked. You shoved your face against the purple sleeve and sniffled again.

Ben sighed and said nothing, just held his arms out to you. You leaned against him and shoved your face against his chest as you continued sniffling and more tears leaked from your eyes. Ben held you and rubbed your back as you reached up and ran your hands through his jaw length curly hair.

"(y/n) I'm your best friend, please tell me what's wrong because I want to help you." Ben said softly. You lifted your head and rested your chin on his shoulder. His black curly hair tickling your nose.

"Y'know Jason? The um, the kid in our math class?" Ben nodded along and rubbed your back, turning his head to look at you. 

"You mean Jabba the Hutt?" Ben said. He was a little cruel with his nicknames, but it fit, Jason was easily the biggest kid in the 7th grade and was about 150 pounds overweight. Which is why it made it so easy for him to pick on you.

"He's just being an ass to me. Like stealing my stuff, pushing me in the hall, yeah." You muttered in his ears. He rested his nose against your forehead and hummed.

"And?"

"He called me a slut." You whispered, hoping he couldn't hear you.

"He what?" Ben snapped, lifting his head and looking at you with fury burning behind his whiskey-gold eyes.

"He called me a slut for hanging out with you so often." You said, quieter than before. Ben growled, low in his throat.

"I'll be right back." Ben said, pulling away from you and standing up.

True enough to his words, Ben came back a few minutes later with dried blood around his nose and a purple bruise forming under his left eye as he sat down next to you and flashed you a grin.

"Something tells me Jabba the Hutt won't be bothering you anymore." Ben said.

"Really? What tells you that."

"the three missing teeth I just knocked out of his head." Ben said with a sparkling crooked smile. You smiled back and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against his chest.

"Hey, I just wanted to say thank you. For, dealing with Hux." You said as you climbed into Ben's bed watching him get ready.

Ben shrugged and pulled his shirt off, stretching his shoulders and bending down to pick up the shirt he just dropped on the floor.

"No big deal. You're my best friend, aaand Hux is an ass." Ben said, undoing his belt and dropping his jeans and kicking them away from him, bending down once again to pick up the jeans before dropping them in his hamper and climbing into the bed. You pulled the blankets back as Ben climbed into the bed and switched the lamp off. You tossed the blankets back over Ben, making sure you still had enough for yourself. Ben rolled onto his side and pushed the blankets down to his hips.

"You really didn't have to fight him though." You said, scooting closer to Ben and running your hand down his bare back, gently scratching his back the way you knew he liked. He hummed and shuffled back towards you.

"Yeah I did. Payback for every bruise he left on you and every time he pushed you to your knees trying to get you to suck his dick." Ben growled. You gently pushed his shoulder to get him to roll onto his stomach. He complied, and you pushed yourself up, swinging one leg over his back and straddling him while you dug the heels of your hands into his shoulders. He let out a groan as you started rubbing his back. Ben sighed happily, and you looked down at his smiling face as you rubbed his shoulders.

Ben let out a deep breath and suddenly rolled over so he was facing you and you were straddling his hips. You looked down at him as he rested his hands on your hips, rubbing his thumbs over your skin. He took a breath, his lips slightly parted as he looked at your face.

"(y/n), I-" He paused, and you leaned down, resting your hands on his chest, looking into his eyes as you brushed your nose against his. He slid his hands from your hips to your back, one on your lower back and one between your shoulders and pulled you closer so your chests were pressed together. You moved your hands to tangle in his fluffy black hair, brushing your nose against his cheek.

"Ben, are we?" You muttered, your lips inches from his. He lowered his hand from your back down to the waistband of your panties, snapping it gently as he brushed his lips against yours. You shuffled your hips slightly, hearing Ben gasp and felt him harden against you. 

You leaned forward and pressed your lips together and grinding your hips against Ben's. He hummed against your lips, pressing his hands against you and sliding one hand down to your butt, squeezing it softly. You moaned slightly and Ben took that opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You felt his stubble scratching lightly at your face and you gently tugged at his hair, feeling a moan rumble through his chest. You slid your hand down between your bodies, resting it against his hardening dick, giving an experimental squeeze. Ben groaned and dropped his head back onto the pillow.

"(y/n), I need y-" Ben's words were interrupted by Leia knocking gently on the door. You felt your face flush as you pushed yourself off Ben and rolled on your side facing away from him to avoid the growing blush on your cheeks.

"Yeah mom, what is it?" Ben called. Leia pushed the door open.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake her, is she asleep?" Leia asked. Ben looked over to you and you stayed still, signaling for him to say you were sleeping. You couldn't face Leia after what she just almost walked in on. Thank god that woman believed in knocking.

"Angel and BB-8 were scratching at your door, I figured Angel wanted to sleep with (y/n), he's always slept with her anyway." Leia said. The two dogs trotted in the door and Angel bounded onto the bed, laying on top of you and huffing in your face. BB-8 settled himself at the foot of the bed as Leia shut the door quietly.

You couldn't believe you just almost had sex with your best friend.

[aleapoffaithfiction]

VI.

"It is not until you rhyme with a person that makes you their perfect match, it is when you are satisfied with each others peculiarities, and find jewels in their loopholes." ― Michael Bassey Johnson

I’ve suffered injuries before, so I’m well aware of how much of a bitch they can be. I’ve sat out of games, I’ve had my playing time limited due to undeniable pain and soreness, but I’ve never had an entire season snatched away from me and it’s a motherfucker. Post-surgery, I spent six days in the hospital. I’ve been home for just about a week and I’ve had a few moments when I felt like I was on the brink of snapping at those who are only trying to help me, for the sake of my own self-pity and then there’s the sleepless nights where I lay in bed and mentally rip myself to shreds.

I’m not depressed. I’m injured, not dying. There’s a lot more depressing shit going on in the world and unfair circumstances that have left people in worse conditions that I’m in, so it’s not fair for me to claim such a vicious dark state of mind after having spent hundreds of thousands of dollars of my own money on one of the best surgeons in New York to repair my ankle. Am I disappointed? Hell yeah. It’s killing me to watch my teammates go out there to battle without me and though many of them stopped by the hospital to visit and called my phone with well wishes, that doesn’t compete with or compare to the adrenaline rush of being able to run out onto those fields and to play my heart out in order for us to advance to that Super Bowl we’re all working towards playing in.

My days consist of either laying in my bed or on a couch, with my ankle elevated on a pile of pillows, and either a remote or video game controller in my hands. I haven’t watched this much TV in years. My independence is limited because my momma finds it to be a nightmare to watch or even think about me moving up and down the stairs with the crutches, so everyone does just about everything for me other than the normal humanly functions that I’m supposed to handle in private. I’m starting to think I’d even be joined in the bathroom if I hadn’t mouthed off about it.

I can’t take a shower, so I have to oddly wash my ass while standing in front of my sink and then there’s the fact that I have to balance myself on the crutches while doing it. It’s a lot harder than I’d like it to be. Getting dressed is a bit complex but I came up with a couple of techniques in order to get my comfort attire on without much assistance. There’s no playing with the dogs and they don’t understand it whatsoever. It’s difficult to manage three hundred pounds of dog with only one good foot, so if they’re not willing to lay around with me, whoever else is around for the sake of caretaking or company looks after them for me.

“O! You alright down there?” Momma stopped midway down the steps leading to the basement to be able to hear whatever response I may give. Today’s the first day I’m able to hang out in my mancave area. I crawled down here when she wasn’t paying attention and after verbally ripping me a new asshole, she properly set me up so I could lay around down here for however long I can take it.

“I’m good.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Nah, I’m alright.” I can’t front, I’ve been having junk all day long. I know that candy, chips, and cookies aren’t what most people would call comfort food, but it’s comforting the shit out of me.

“You feeling any pain? You’re due for the medication pretty soon.” I’m avoiding it. The discomfort is there for sure, but I’m not trying to go to sleep. On top of that, all of it messes with my stomach. I don’t even pop pills when I have a headache, so having bottles of them lined up on my bedroom nightstand to take every couple of hours is draining.

“I’m alright.”

“Are you cold?”

“No, I’m not cold. You wrapped me up in this blanket. You swaddled me like I’m a few months old momma. Ain’t no way I can get cold.” What she thought was hilarious didn’t quite connect with me. I’ll be burning up in about ten minutes.

“Okay, I’ll check on you in a bit.”

“Aight.” A bit means within the next ten minutes. I thought that I could get her out of the house by offering her a shopping spree to get whatever she and Jazzy wants but that was a lost cause. Though she quickly agreed to it with a warm thank you, she has yet to leave the house and I don’t think she is. I’ve gone from having a house full to everyone trickling out of here little by little over the last couple of days. It’s not like they can’t come back at some point. Where am I going?

My pop flew up here for three days but he flew back this morning for some business he has to handle back home. He told me he’d be back within the next couple of days but I’m not counting on it or sweating it. He will be back at some point, but it won’t be within any specific timeframe that he gives me or anyone else.

“Harry Potter or Twilight.” Sarai claimed that whenever I reached a point of dire boredom, I needed to either fine a television or film series to watch in order to keep myself occupied. With giggles, these were the ones she suggested and as I’m reading through the brief descriptions of the films, I can see why she was laughing. She’s has to be kidding around me with. Ain’t no way I’m watching any of this shit. Wizards? Ghosts? Vampires? Wolves? Nah.

Just the thought of her made me reach for my phone and head to my recent calls. I tapped on the last FaceTime call we shared with one another and listened to the ringing while awaiting an answer. I’m not sure when she leaves the ESPN studios but The Sports Haven has been off the air for hours.

“Hold on.” I almost misheard what she said as she hushed me with her whispered tone. She had to be holding the phone in front of her chest because I could only see the cool grayness of the dress she was wearing earlier today. She obviously hadn’t changed her shoes because in the midst whoever she was speaking to as she walked away, I could hear the sound of her heels clicking and clacking against the tiled flooring. That infectious giggle bounced throughout the halls further worsening my need to see her stunning face and once she was behind a door, my craving was fulfilled while her flustered facial expression amused me.

“I’m still at work. You know better.”

“Do I? What am I supposed to know better about?”

“I’m still at work.”

“So.”

“If you were at training camp, a work out, or at practice, would you answer my phone calls?”

“Yes.” I would. If I was near my phone, I absolutely would, with no hesitation. Coach would just have to be pissed because I’m walking off to take that call every single time.

“Bullshit, Beckham.”

“I’m answering your phone call every single time.” Her petite frame plopped down in the chair nearest to her as she teasingly rolled her eyes.

“How’s the foot?”

“Same ol’, same ol. I’m what, about two weeks post-surgery? I guess it’s not as crazy painful as it once was, but other than that, same shit, different day.”

“You’ve been staying off of it? Elevating it?”

“Yes, nurse.” It was my turn to roll my eyes. Much like my momma, she’s been just as on my case about sitting around on my ass. I’m doing it. I’m just not trying to become good at it.

“Ice for the swelling? Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off, then repeat?”

“Yep.”

“Two pillows under the knee, two under the ankle?”

“Actually no, nurse. I’m not doing any of that shit. I think I need a home visit because I really don’t understand any of that.”

I haven’t seen her since I was discharged from the hospital. For the six days I was there after the surgery, she visited me every single day. Her shift was during the late evening. She would come straight from Connecticut to relieve my mother and would stick around until I was sound asleep. She spent the night twice. On one of those days, I had her sitting on one side of me and Drake on the opposite side. That may have been the best visit or maybe it was the one when both she, Ben, and Shep turned the opposite side of the room into a dance floor so that they could dance for me since my dancing shoes will be hung up for a while.

I find myself looking at all of the pictures and videos we all took during a time when I needed my friends the most. I had no time to sulk, because I was laughing every day. I smiled until my face began to hurt and it was all as genuine as it could get. We played Uno and Spades, Monopoly, Charades with our iPhones, and we sat around eating whatever they all decided to bring me from outside. Sarai even bought me a steak from Ruth Chris. It didn’t even feel like I was hospitalized.

“Cut the shit. You understand it.”

“Honestly, I don’t. You said how many pillows? Put the crutches aside and walk where on my own?” My eyes trailed up to the ceiling as I jokingly pondered on all of the directions I’ve been given. They’ve been drilled into my memory so much; I’ll never be able to forget any of it even after I’ve gone through recovery and am completely back to being myself.

“I’m not coming to your house.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“I’m confused. So, you can come and visit me in the hospital, where there’s hundreds or maybe even thousands of people around, but not at my house where there’s now barely anyone around?”

“Beckham.”

“I miss you. I haven’t seen you since I’ve been home and I’d like to. I can’t go anywhere. If I could, I’d come to you no matter where you are, but I can’t right now. When I’m better, consider it done. For now, I need you to come to me. Is that okay?”

Silence filled the spaces surrounding the both of us and we stared at one another through the screens that served as our connection and yet as a clear sign of the current distance that we have from one another. Sometimes FaceTime isn’t going to cut it. I miss the alluring scent of jasmine and vanilla as it mingles with my own to create an inimitable mesh that is only exclusive to us. Then there’s the way her laugher starts out boisterous and eventually trickles down into this soft cackle that instantly brightens my smile. I miss her cheating and making up nonexistent rules for Uno, and then the way she taunts me for being a sore loser as she does a victory dance that purposefully mimics the ones that I do on the field. Most of all, the kisses. They’re the ones that she thinks I don’t feel when she assumes, I’m asleep. Sometimes they’re on my forehead. The last one I got was near the corner of my mouth. It was lingering, so lingering to the point of me nearly turning my head so that I could finally become drunken from her lips. I miss everything.

“You need anything before I come? Are you hungry?” I may not be able to dance physically, but I’m damn sure doing so mentally.

“Nah. The chef is here. She’s going to whip something up. That was my momma’s doing, by the way. She knows that if it’s up to me, I’ll sit around here and eat junk all day, so she hired someone to make sure I am able to have a healthy balanced diet. She’s on a trial run right now, but I think she’s going to stick around because everything’s been good for the most part.”

“You need a chef. Your eating habits are childish. I’ve told you that before.”

“Aye, childish or not, at least I know it’s good. I’m not experimental. I eat what’s familiar to me and I keep it moving.”

“Childish. Your snack stock is good?”

“Just bring yourself.”

“Alright. I’ll see you later on then. I have to get home, change my clothes, and all of that other good stuff.”

“Drive safely.”

“Will do. Text me if you need anything so I can grab it before I come.”

“I don’t need anything other than your presence.” I thought she’d roll her eyes again and wave off what I said as yet another one of my flirtatious jokes as she calls them, but she didn’t. This time, she sank further down into her seat and kicked off her heels.

“I’ll text you when I’m nearby. See you soon.”

“Okay.”

As the recent call screen returned to view, I tossed my phone beside me on the couch, and began the waiting process.

Though I couldn’t do it physically, mentally, everything felt like one of those moments in a romantic comedy when someone invites a person of interest over and they’re scrambling around the house trying to rid areas of dirt and mess, in the sloppiest manner ever. They’re usually stuffing clothes into drawers, sweeping dirt and dust under dark crevices, and tossing most of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher only for them to be forgotten about for days. I know the house is clean, because a cleaning service comes here three times a week to make sure of it, and yet I’m still sitting here anxiously hoping that nothing is out of place.

There’s also the part of me having to mention to mom dukes that she’s coming and her turning that into yet another high school moment as she promises to stay out of the way though I know that she’s going to make it her business to be as nosy as possible because she can’t help herself. Per her request, chef Renee is making pasta and salmon. I would have changed my clothes but I’m not going up three flights of stairs to get to my bedroom so the shorts and t-shirt will have to work. My breath ain’t funky.

“You need anything else? Is there enough water?” She put together a platter of snacks and beverages for Sarai and I’s enjoyment. Why does it seem like she’s more nervous than I am about this?

“Everything’s cool. I think we have enough of everything. Those watermelon Sour Patches are her favorite.”

“After eating, I’m probably going to be upstairs. Just ring my phone if you need me. I’m going to bring your medication downstairs for you in like five minutes. You have to take it. Don’t give me hell about it.”

“I’m not.”

“Alright. Stay put. Please do not move.”

“Where am I going? I’m imprisoned for at least the next eight weeks.”

“You’re not imprisoned. You’re just home. Cut the dramatics.”

I selected Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone as my distraction while I awaited her arrival. I’d gotten through that one plus the second film and was near falling asleep through the Prisoner of Azkaban until her all too familiar scent came trickling up my nose as she hovered over me and poked at my nose until all eyes were on her. We didn’t bid one another hellos as she plopped down on the couch next to me. I don’t know why, but it felt extremely organic when she kicked her shoes off and threw her legs up on the ottoman alongside mine and restarted the film as if she went to use the bathroom and I let it play through all of the good parts without her. She served us dinner. Because I couldn’t move, she went upstairs to retrieve it and brought it down.

As for dessert, the Sour Patches were her preferred snack and though she shared some of them with me, she hogged the bag while deeply in tune with yet another part of the series that I know she’s seen more than five times; maybe even more than ten.

“For you to have knocked these films when I suggested them, you certain are becoming interested.”

“There’s like fifteen of these things. You’re right. They kill time.”

“There’s only eight. Shut up.”

“Feels like fifteen.”

“I enjoy them because they’re a reminder of my childhood and these movies came at a time when I needed an outlet or rather a distraction. I remember when my mom took my sister and I to see Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. It came out in November. We hadn’t been out of the house since September.”

“Why?” She went silent for minutes. The musical score of the ending credits filled the air between us.

“My daddy died in September. September of two thousand and eleven.”

“From what? Was he sick?”

"Iraq. Operation Enduring Freedom, a direct response to the September eleventh attacks." Suddenly the room felt like it was viciously spinning as I stared at her. Beads of sweat trickled along the napes of my neck and though my heart mentally shattered at her words, there were some aspects of it that felt so physical. The tension gripping my body intensified as her devastating response echoed in my thoughts.

None of us will ever forget where we were, what we were doing, and how everything that happened on that specific day affected our lives from afar but my God, I can't even begin to imagine how those directly affected felt then and continue to feel now no matter how many stories I read or heard, how much footage I've watched, or how many memorials we have year after year. I have an extremely high level of respect for any and everyone who enlists to protect, defend, and preserve the safety and honor of this country, but I've never directly felt what it is like to lose someone you love while they're in the process of doing so, especially after all of the loss that happened just a month prior.

"I'm so sorry Sarai."

"Don't be. You didn't do anything. I'm alright. We're okay. I mean, you're never really alright, but you're alright in the sense that you learn how to cope with it, accept it, and move forward. You know, all of those stages of grieving. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I learned all of that in therapy." My hand met the top of hers and she allowed it to rest there rather than choosing to resist me. In an instant, our fingers laced together.

"We all have to survive something, you know?"

"I know." Our eyes glimpsed at the protective boot shielding my ankle from any potential trauma. That is of no comparison. I could lose my fucking leg tomorrow and it won't ever compare to what she lost. My pop and I have a solid relationship now, and though it was one big ass ball of confusion during many points of my childhood, I couldn't imagine losing him.

"Sometimes we learn that life isn't easy in tougher situations than others. Don't mistake that for me believing that things for me were far worse than anything anyone could have ever experienced then or now, but that was and still can be difficult to process. It took me a long time to be able to do so. Shit, it took me a long time to be able to even speak about it like this. I used to want it to be this best kept secret, you know? It wasn't a secret, because everyone knew about it no matter where I went, but I preferred spaces where people didn't know so that I didn't have to be the elephant in the room who everyone pitied. I believe when people pity you, it always keeps your pain at the forefront of your life because it's all they see." Our hands parted so that she could use both of hers to run up and down her thighs, in a self-comforting tactic.

"I remember my mother used to question me and often lash out with this accusation that I was trying to forget him but it wasn't that. More than anything, I was trying to preserve him; all of the good about him and the moments that we did have together. We were offered to sit in front of cameras at so many different television studios to be yet another grieving family giving Americans the waterworks, but I refused. Those memories were and are still mine. I don't want to share them. A guy I know felt the same way as I did. We went to school together. His father was a military medic who died over there some time later on."

"I'm trying to find the words, but I can't even imagine." I can't. How can anyone, if they weren't directly affected by it? The emotional response to the news coverage and the reality of what happened will never compare.

"I couldn't find them either. I'll never forget the stench of the cigarettes that my mother smoked one after the other, because she just felt it. He hadn't called home in days. Even with the city still being in subtle chaos after all that had happened, she was still able to go to the store and pick up two packs of something that she had quit using three years prior. She just smoked them while tapping her foot and hoping that he'd ring the phone to annoy her with one of his horrible jokes or to talk her ear off about real estate and finance, per his usual. Both were always a focus of his, but he was able to actually work in those fields once he transitioned to the reserves after being active duty for twenty years. He opened up a business right in Brooklyn because he saw all of the gentrification coming from a mile away. He volunteered to go. He was an American born Haitian and was all about the good of the country for whatever reason. He believed that he could be of great help with his two decades of knowledge and experience."

"That's honorable."

"Maybe selfish too." I can understand why feels that way. In some ways, his death feels like it's his fault, though it isn't.

"How did you find out?"

"Like everyone else does when a close relative dies in active combat. He didn't die in combat though. A building was bombed. He was in it." She squeezed her knees and shut her eyes.

"Two military officers showed up at our door, holding a folded up United States flag, and offered their deepest condolences in what I felt like was the blandest manner you could say it in. You could tell it was something so normal for them. The list of names was scrolling across the bottom of everyone's screens by the evening and there were pictures. Of course, he was mentioned. Reality really kicked me in the face and knocked me off my feet that same night when the doorbell rang. It wasn't more friends, family, or neighbors from all over our block. It wasn't another sympathy flower delivery or a gift basket. It was CNN; prying ass CNN. The whirlwind began from there. It was at that point that I realized that my father would be famous for that day and maybe the next one, and then would eventually be nothing more than a casualty of a fucked up war." 

"Sarai."

"Odell, I'm okay. I worked hard to be that way and it's what he'd want for me. I still have a lot of work to do, but I'd rather be a work in progress than a bunch of nothingness. I know I've made him proud."

"You're beautiful." From the top of her head to the very tips of her toes, she is that. Her essence and soul. Her demeanor and charisma. All of her is that.

"And you're kind of alright, I guess." Her laughter spilled out before mine, shifting the heaviness in the room. Though I couldn't move much, my arms were long enough to grab her into them for a lighthearted tickling session for having lessened me to "alright". I'd take that from her though.

"Thank you for sharing that with me. I know it wasn't easy despite you saying that you're okay but I'm glad that you shared it. Sometimes when you're up there speaking about me on that panel, I feel like you know me better than most and sometimes, even myself. It's my turn now, but for you."

"I don't know you better than you know yourself. I just...see you. You know?" Strip away the unique perks that comes with the jobs that we do and the positions that we play in society, and that's what most of the people in my position want. The cameras only pick up a small percentage of who you are and then there's the mask that you often time have to wear for the sake of self-preservation and protection. The scrutiny is never ending. One day they love you, twenty-four hours later, you're the scum of the earth. Explaining yourself is worthless because it only gains you the entitled label. The rare aspect of it all is being seen in the manner that Sarai just emphasized. There are very few who have that gift. I'm so grateful that she does.

"I see you too." On the screen and finally, beyond it. I thought my fantasies about her essence were unbelievably incredible, but the reality of her is beyond measure. She's superseded all of my thoughts.

"Can we finish binging my friends in my head though? We can finish all of these movies tonight." I earned a mush to my head for groaning in response. I thought we could at least switch it to Bad Boys. Who wouldn't rather watch Will Smith and Martin Lawrence tear down Miami looking for drug traffickers and murders than to watch wizards and goblins?

"Go ahead. Play the next one."

"You're so nice."

"Happy wife, happy life, right?" As quickly as I said it, is as quickly as I laughed. Her responding facial expression was a photo worthy moment.

“Beckham, I will pour the remaining sugar in this bag all over you. Keep playing with me.”  

“You can, for as long as you…” Before I could finish it, I was mushed again and her palm remained over my mouth as she pressed play. I know she found it funny because the smirk dancing along her lips didn’t let up. That’s good enough for me.

We shared my fleece Giants blanket through the earlier portion of the movie and that plus a mixture of all we’d eaten soothed the both of us into a slumber that left her limbs intertwined with mine and the illuminating glare from the television highlighting our frames. I hadn’t even realized we were sleeping or for how long until she was stirring in her sleep and lifting her head.

“It’s almost three in the morning.”

“It’s okay, go back to sleep.” Our tones were equally groggy. She could barely keep her eyes open.

“Lay down, baby.” Her head rested on my chest as it had been before and I covered her upper frame with the blanket once again. With one click of a button on the remote, the annoying lighting from the television was gone and we were left in pitch blackness.

It was my turn to kiss her as she slept and I planted plenty of them on various areas of her face until my body rejoined hers for rest.

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1303

Monday, March 2, 2020

 This is a public service announcement. You will be ticketed for parking on the street during a parking ban even though the snow has already been cleared from the roads. We got a ticket parked in front of our house last week because we couldn't get into our driveway after the grader left a big snow bank at the end of it. I hope to spare anyone from being dinged with what I think is an unfair fine.

 Amazing Spider-Man: Daily Bugle #2 - Mat Johnson (writer) Mack Chater (art pages 1-12) Francesco Mobili (art pages 13-20) Dono Sanchez-Almara, Protobunker & Peter Pantazis (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). I can't read the rest of this 5-issue mini. The art really bothered me this issue. It was hard to tell what was going on the first few pages and then seeing Peter Parker in civvies looking almost exactly like the bad guy confused me further. There are interesting mysteries about Spidey's webbing and a Wilson Fisk involvement with an explosion, but this story probably won't matter in the grand scheme of things, so I don't think I'll miss anything if I bail out here.

 Punisher Soviet #4 - Garth Ennis (writer) Jacen Burrows (pencils) Guillermo Ortego (inks) Nolan Woodard (colours) Rob Steen (letters). Frank and Valery go after Konstantin by kidnapping his trophy wife. She's amenable to divorce by Punisher. Thank Garth for improving my mood.

 Basketful of Heads #5 - Joe Hill (writer) Leomacs (art) Riccardo La Bella (additional pencils) Dave Stewart (colours) Deron Bennett (letters). Everything leading up to this issue has been circumstantial. Now the villain tells the complete story. I'm rooting for June to survive this mess.

 Year of the Villain: Hell Arisen #3 - James Tynion IV (writer) Steve Epting & Javier Fernandez (art) Nick Filardi (colours) Travis Lanham (letters). Heh, it's the Joker who helps Lex beat the Batman Who Laughs. It looks like next issue's pulse pounding conclusion will be Lex and his super villains versus the Batman Who Laughs and his infected super heroes. It's been a while since the Main Man has been in a comic that I've read.

 Avengers #31 - Jason Aaron (writer) Gerardo Zaffino, Geraldo Borges, Szymon Kudranski, Oscar Bazaldua, Robert Gill & Mattia De Iulis (art) Rachelle Rosenberg & Mattia De Iulis (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). I haven't seen Tony Stark in a while so I assumed he was dead. Nope. He was zapped a million years into the past by the master manipulator Mephisto. The devil tries to get Tony's soul. This is a wonderful full issue of Iron Man and if Jason wrote an Iron Man book, I'd read it.

 Amethyst #1 - Amy Reeder (story & art) Gabriela Downie (letters). I remember reading the original Amethyst book when it hit the racks in 1983 with the Ernie Colon art. It was fun and weird with a plucky heroine. This new Wonder Comics book has the appeal of having art by Amy Reeder who wowed me with her work on Madame Xanadu and Rocket Girl. Here she is writing as well and the art and story is tight and concise. This is a nice substitute for the dearly departed Naomi book.

 Avengers of the Wastelands #2 - Ed Brisson (writer) Jonas Scharf (art) Neeraj Menon (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). It's the origin of Captain America of the Wastelands. His name is Grant. I think this is a great way to change tried and true Marvel characters to make them fresh and new. Having them fight an evil Doctor Doom is nice and simple. Four Avengers may become five but they have to contend with a super villain first.

 Suicide Squad #3 - Tom Taylor (writer) Bruno Redondo (art) Adriano Lucas (colours) Wes Abbott (letters). The new Squad's first mission under Lok's leadership does not go according to plan. Neither are these super villains what they seem. This is why I read Tom Taylor books. Forget about any new Crises and DCeased and pick up this most excellent comic book for some straight up action and skulduggery.

 Kill Lock #3 - Livio Ramondelli (story & art) Tom B. Long (letters). I get why the calligraphy font is used in the Wraith's word balloons but man, is it hard to read. This issue explains why The Kid is innocent and shouldn't be branded. The four droids find the one who can lead them to the Kill Lock's off switch but she betrays them. This universe of sentient robots is pretty cool.

 Jessica Jones: Blind Spot #4 - Kelly Thompson (writer) Mattia De Iulis (art) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Each issue has started off with Jessica held captive by the bad guy. The end of this issue reveals who that is and how she was killed and resurrected. I am looking forward to the conclusion to see how she defeats the villain.

 Batman Superman #7 - Joshua Williamson (writer) Nick Derington (art) Dave McCaig (colours) John J. Hill (letters). A new story starts here. Part 1 of "The Kandor Compromise" pits the World's Finest duo against Ra's Al Ghul and General Zod. One of the bad guys is working with the good guys. I got bored of the fight between Superman and Rogol Zaar so what happened to the city of Kandor was a surprise to me. I'm interested to see the final fate of the shrunken city.

 Giant-Size X-Men: Jean Grey and Emma Frost #1 - Jonathan Hickman (writer) Russell Dauterman (art) Matthew Wilson (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). This mostly wordless $4.99 US one-shot will be a quick read but I read it twice just to soak in the beautiful art. The story starts with the discovery Storm's body and ends with a problem after Ororo is resurrected. This leads into a story where Jean, Emma, Logan and Scott will have to save Storm again.

 Leviathan Dawn #1- Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Alex Maleev (art) Josh Reed (letters). Leviathan succeeded in shutting down every spy agency and the leader has been revealed to be an ex-spy named Mark Shaw. The good guys are still trying to fight back but they're going to need help. Time for Kingsley Jacobs to start up Check Mate again. I like the players he's gathered. I'm looking forward to watching this game unfold.

 Finger Guns #1 - Justin Richards (writer) Val Halvorson (art) Rebecca Nalty (colours) Taylor Esposito (letters). And now for something completely different. This new urban fantasy introduces two teenagers with a weird power. Wes discovers that when he shoots people with his left hand he can make them angry. Sadie can calm people down when she uses her right finger gun. They meet by accident at the mall and try to get a handle on their newfound powers. It's a cool concept and I wonder where these kids are going to end up.

 Fantastic Four: Grimm Noir #1 - Gerry Duggan (writer) Ron Garney (art) Matt Milla (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). This one's all about Ben's bad dreams. I thought the bad guy was Nightmare but it's another one of those mystical villains that generally mess with Doctor Strange. I expected some sort of Mickey Spillane type story but there's no murder, just a pretty dame needing rescue. It's a nice character study of the ever lovin' blue-eyed Thing.

 Detective Comics #1020 - Peter J. Tomasi (writer) Brad Walker (pencils) Andrew Hennessy (inks) Brad Anderson (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). Two-Face is back and he's more bipolar than ever. This is what I like to see, an old villain presented in a slightly new way. We still have the scarred coin dictating how Harvey acts but there's a new twist with a cult of fanatics and the Church of the Two Strikes. I love how the first page hints at the return of the Court of Owls too.

 Falcon & Winter Soldier #1 - Derek Landy (writer) Federico Vicentini (art) Matt Milla (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). This 5-issue team-up starts off with a heavily armed and armoured hit squad attacking Bucky Barnes in his home. The Winter Soldier emerges unscathed and hops his motorcycle to find out who sent the killers. Meanwhile Sam Wilson is searching for a missing vet. The two meet at a government agency office where all the staff are dead. Wanting to know who's doing all the killing has got me interested in reading the rest but when a preppy killer shows up and kicks both of the heroes asses I decided to put this mini on my "must read" list. The kid's name is the Natural. Picture a blonde Damian Wayne in a pair of Chuck Taylors.

 The Amazing Spider-Man #40 - Nick Spencer (writer) Iban Coello & Ze Carlos (art) Brian Reber & Peter Pantazis (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). The fight between Spider-Man and Chance had to do with a bet that Chance could get one of Spidey's web shooters. What bothered me was how easily that was done and Spider-Man's lack of urgency to get it back. There's a couple of foreshadowing scenes that will keep me reading however. One involves the Clairvoyant device and the other is who Norah Winters is working with.

 X-Men #7 - Jonathan Hickman (writer) Leinil Francis Yu (art) Sunny Gho (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). This issue is dedicated to a new Mutant Ritual called the Crucible. It's a lot shorter than calling it the Arena of Death and Rebirth. It shows how mutants who have lost their powers can get them back. But first we have to endure a deep philosophical discussion between Cyclops and Nightcrawler. It's a real snoozer if you're an action fan.

 Action Comics #1020 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) John Romita Jr. (pencils) Klaus Janson (inks) Brad Anderson (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). I wish they would stop with the deceiving covers. It looks like Superman is trying to come between Lex Luthor and Leviathan but what actually happens inside is Superman fighting Lex and the Legion of Doom. If it weren't for Young Justice helping out I would have found this issue boring.

 X-Men/Fantastic Four #2 - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Terry Dodson (pencils) Rachel Dodson, Karl Story & Ransom Getty (inks) Laura Martin (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). There's a lot of heroes accusing heroes of shenanigans concerning the disappearance of Franklin and Valeria. They are actually guests of Doctor Doom. Victor wants to reverse what Reed did to his son and I want to know why. With the X-Men converging on Doom Island, good old Doc Doom is prepared for an attack.

 X-Force #8 - Benjamin Percy (writer) Bazaldua (art) Guru-eFX (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Why did Oscar Bazaldua stop using his first name in the credits? Domino and Colossus attack the flesh factory making assassins using Neena's DNA. The organisation funding the flesh factory has a mysterious benefactor and I'm hanging around to find out who that is. I wish they would change either Sage or Jubilee's costume. I keep getting them confused.

[lavenderbones22]

Light My Candle- Ben Hardy

Summary: Ben has an encounter with his downstairs neighbour that leaves him lost for words.

Requested: 'could you write ben x fem!reader based on "light my candle" from rent?? thank you cutie'

Word Count: 2161

-----------

1990

The smell of Indian spiced incense drifted around her small apartment while she sat cross legged on the rug in the middle of her living room. She was busying herself on the brown wooden coffee table cutting herself some lines; it had been a stressful night at work to which she'd come home early from.

It was like she fell through a black hole. Sudden darkness. "Shit." Dropping her ID card she was using for the drugs, she looked around her darkened apartment.

She'd forgotten to pay her rent again. "This is the second time in three months," she mumbled in a frustrated manner out loud. "Get your shit together girl," she scolded herself, standing to her feet and using the light that came in from her window to guide herself to the kitchen where she knew she had a torch.

Thanking herself for cleaning her apartment earlier in the day, she made it to the kitchen alive. Reaching to a cupboard above the fridge, she found the torch. Her dad had insisted she have one when she moved out of home for blackouts. She assumed he hadn't meant for month's she paid her rent late.

Using the torch to light her path, she walked to her bedroom and sifted through her handbag for her lighter. She loved candles so was lucky enough to have a decent amount to light her in this dark time. Mumbling expletives to herself as she struggled to locate her favourite baby pink lighter in her bag, she suddenly remembered that she had left it at work when one of her colleagues had asked to borrow it.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck," she stood up again, shining the light around her bedroom. She knew none of her neighbours, having only moved in four months ago. It was after two in the morning, she couldn't go knocking on somebody's door. Could she?

Deciding that she simply could not sit around in darkness and she was simply too high to sleep, she grabbed one of the candles, walked herself out of her apartment and into the hall. She recalled bumping into a cute guy in the foyer a few times and was pretty sure she'd seen him go into one of the apartments on the floor above her. Surely he'd be awake, young and attractive, why would he be sleeping on a Saturday night?

Knowing she looked good, still having her makeup done, hair partially, and her tight jeans on accentuating her fit body, she waltzed up the stairs and stood in front of two doors.

Which one? She looked between both for a few moments.

Concluding that she swore she had seen him come in and out of the door on the left, she took a chance and knocked three times.

***

Ben nearly had a heart attack at the three knocks on his door somewhere around two thirty in the morning. Muttering words of perplexity to himself, he got off the couch where he had been chain smoking for the last thirty minutes, and opened the door.

A girl. He'd seen her around the building a few times, she had only been there for a few months he figured.

"Hello?" It was more of a question than a greeting. A 'why the fuck are you knocking at my door at two thirty in the morning?' sort of question.

"Got a light?" she held up a candle, perfectly sculptured brows raised.

"I know you," he looked at her features a little closer. Almond shaped eyes that had a flick of a wing out the side. He'd seen her before, other than inside his apartment building. She looked pretty done up, he thought she was probably just getting home. "You're shivering," he moved aside as to invite her in.

"It's nothing," she walked inside like she owned the place. "They turned off my heat."

He shut the door, admiring her from behind as she looked around his flat. "Would you light my candle?" She held it up.

"Sure," he leant down to reach for his lighter on the sofa. "Can I get you a jacket?" He couldn't ignore her shivering and took his jacket from earlier that hung over the back of the seat, draping it over her shoulders.

He lingered, just for a moment but she noticed.

"What are you staring at?"

He shook his head as if to shake his thoughts out. "Nothing....you look familiar," he told her. She smiled softly, letting her gaze fall from his to the ground. She presented such a strong front, but he saw her falter for a second.

She moved across the small room, holding her flickering candle and running her fingers along his television, record player, smiling to herself, the dim light from a small lamp in the corner and the moonlight from his window landing on her perfectly; she was beautiful.

"What?" She spotted him staring at her intently from the other side of his coffee table.

"Nothing...your smile reminded me of-"

"I always remind people of," she interrupted him, laughing to herself. "Who is she?" she looked over at his face; he was gorgeous.

"She died. Her name was April."

Feeling uncomfortable about his sudden confession of a dead girl he used to know, she blew out the candle. "It's out again!" She announced, her big, round eyes looking over at him.

Who on earth was this girl? He thought.

"I'm sorry about your friend," she said, walking around the table and back to him. "Can you light it again?" She bit her lip in what he couldn't mistake as a suggestive move. She was close to him, he could smell her perfume.

He pulled his lighter out again, bringing the candle in her petite hands back to life once more. She grabbed it with both hands, burning her finger on the wax in the process. "Ouch!" She pulled it back quickly, sticking it in her mouth.

"The wax..." he began.

"It's dripping," she finished for him. His fingers picked up some of the wax, she took this opportunity to lace their fingers together; she was attracted to him there was no doubt about it.

"I like it between my-" she purred.

"Fingers!" He pulled his hand from hers, he wasn't used to a woman being so forward with him. "Anyway, goodnight!" She frowned at his sudden change of mood. It was the only thing he knew to do. He felt himself getting aroused by the second because of this woman he didn't even know.

She looked at him quizzically for a second longer before shrugging his jacket off her shoulders and walking off in the direction of his door.

But then she blew out the candle.

He bet that she thought he wouldn't see, but he did.

She ran her hand along her back pockets, sliding her fingers in one back pocket and then the next. Shit.

She stopped, turning around and looking around on the ground.

"It blew out again?" He asked her with humour, she couldn't fool him.

"No...uh...I think that I dropped my bag of coke." She appeared frantic, feeling around her jeans some more, even inside her bra. Ben felt disconcerted. Sure, he'd done coke more times than he probably should have but she seemed too beautiful to give herself to such a drug.

"I feel like I've seen you out before..." his attempt to change the subject was futile because she ignored him, retracing her steps back into his apartment; eyes still glued to the floor.

"I swear I had it when I walked in the door," she ran her hands through her hair. "Fuck," she sighed. "It's pure." Suddenly, she dropped to the floor on her hands and knees. She stuck her ass out purposely and obviously, he stared. The blonde was trying so hard to behave but she was making it very fucking difficult.

"They say I have the best ass in town," she peered at him over her shoulder. "Is it true?"

"What?"

She was practically asking him to fuck her.

"You're staring again..." she leaned back onto her feet, flicking her long hair behind her back.

"Oh, no..."

She frowned.

"No-I mean well yeah...erm, you do have a nice ass," he finally admitted.

He joined her on the ground in the hunt for her lost bag of cocaine. "You look familiar," he said again.

"Like your dead girlfriend..."

"Well, only when you smile.," he told her. "But I really do feel like I've seen you somewhere else before."

"Do you go to the gentleman's club in West London?"

He looked at her questioning.

She giggled. "That's where I work...I dance."

"Yes!" He sat up on his knees. That was where he knew her from! He'd been there a few times with his mates. He wish he could say it was for a good reason but it wasn't; they were drunk and a little horny. "They used to tie you up."

"It's a living," she sighed, mirroring his pose.

"I almost didn't recognise you without the handcuffs," he joked.

Rolling her eyes, she poked a cheeky tongue out at him.

"Why don't you forget that stuff?" He asked her genuinely. "You look like you're sixteen."

"I'm nineteen!" She said defensively, standing up and looking around the room again. "I'm old for my age, though."

He laughed, suddenly noticing the bag of white powder laying beside the corner of his rug. He bent down quickly picking it up and stuffing it into his back pocket. Continuing to follow her around his apartment, they ended up in his kitchen. She hadn't gone in there so he was confused as to why she was looking around.

"That's what they all say," he respond to her previous remark.

Her dark eyes met his from across the counter; she was stood in the middle of the kitchen. "Do you wanna dance?" She asked him.

"Dance?"

She nodded with glee and bounded over to him grabbing his hand. They stood right beside his small table, hand in hand, her body pressed against his.

"I'm Ben," he spoke lowly. "By the way."

She simply smiled, deciding not to tell him her name, and began to dance. "There's no music," he argued.

"There doesn't need to be music." Her beautiful eyes, dark like chocolate, glistened in the streetlights pouring in through his window.

The two strangers waltzed slowly around the room for a few minutes. An abrupt stop startled him as she stepped back only slightly, her delicate hands running along the perimeter of his belt. They lightly touched his buckle and in a move that Ben was completely stunned by, she undid it, pulling it out of his jeans and throwing it aside.

Not a word was exchanged between the two as she undid his buttons, then his zipper, moving his jeans down over his hips, his muscular thighs and to his ankles where he helped her get rid of them.

Their eyes met for a brief moment before she hooked her fingers into the sides of his briefs and pulled them down, discarding them much the same way she did the jeans.

She couldn't get over how attractive he was, having internally been beating herself up for not remembering him those times he came to her work. Mind you, she was always high as the sky when she danced and blocked most of the men's faces out that graced the strip club.

She got to her knees and licked along his pubic bone, earning a deep grunt from the blonde man. Satisfied with his reaction, she moved down further, eventually sliding her mouth down his nearly fully engorged cock, taking as much in her mouth as possible. He had a reputable size; she was very impressed.

"Such a beautiful little mouth," he praised her, fingers tangling through her long hair as her mouth started to move faster in an up and down motion. She paused each time she got to his head and flickered her tongue around his sensitive tip. She swore though that when she started using her hand in conjunction with her mouth that he was going to come right then and there. And if that was the case, she honestly didn't really mind. His defined chest was raising up and down heavily, trying desperately to control himself

This amazingly lasted a few more minutes before loud moans and groans left Ben's pink lips, seeping into the walls of his small flat. He hoped the neighbours weren't awake.

She caught everything he spurt into her mouth, licking around him afterwards like a lollipop to clean him up. Standing up, she readjusted her clothing, wiped her mouth with the back of her lips and sighed happily. Ben was too shell shocked to say a word, standing still stark naked on his bottom half, staring at the spontaneous beauty in front of him.

She didn't speak, simply walking past him, plucking the baggie of coke out of the pocket of his crumpled jeans and exiting his apartment.

TAG LIST: @galileoqueen-mama-mia @fuckinghurricanesoul @screaminggalileochickenwrites @ziggysstarrdust @spidreling @softbenhardy @mortifiedmoon @tanya-is-dead 

HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS ONE GUYS IT WAS SUPER FUN TO WRITE! 

[pompadourpink]

The reality about spoken french

We don’t use the negation ne. We say Je sais pas (I don’t know) or On a pas à le faire (we don’t have to do it),

Speaking of which, we prefer using on rather than the pompous nous : On est arrivé-es (we’ve arrived), On y va? (shall we go)

Speaking of which, our questions are often affirmative sentences ending with a question mark (i.e. : a high-pitched tone) : Tu viens? (are you coming), T’en veux un-e? (do you want one).

Speaking of which, we chew words. When followed by words starting with a consonant, personal pronouns can lose their final letter : J’te l’dis! rather than Je te le dis (I’m telling you).

Speaking of which, we’re lazy : Je can be Che (chais pas), Il can be Y (r’garde, y’a un chat!) and grunt : many euh (uh), ah, bah (hum), ben (well), hein (tf?) and rhooo/rhaaa (ffs). We often start sentences with but : Mais tu saoules! (you’re annoying) to express displeasure.

Speaking of which, on top of dropping négations, we drop pronouns : You’re being a pain in my ass should be Tu me fais chier but can be Tu fais chier - maybe to make it universal or dramatic.

Speaking of which, we thrive on sarcasm and irony. To someone who’s babbling, we’ll answer It makes my leg look good.

Speaking of which, we repeat (personal) pronouns at the beginning or end of sentences. We’re likely to ask Qu’est-ce qu’il en dit, lui? and answer Moi, je veux bien (tonic pronouns, careful!).

Speaking of which, we like to use the conditional mode to indicate a wish or hypothesis : lots of Si j’avais su, j’aurais dit oui (had i known, i’d have said yes), J’aimerais bien pouvoir- (I wish I could-), etc.

Speaking of which, we add useless words : Bien (j’irais bien), Petit (un petit peu), Très (très vrai), Trop (je ne sais pas trop), ça (C’est quoi, ça?)...

Speaking of which, let’s stop before you all get disgusted and unfollow me. Remember this is spoken, private french and doesn’t apply to formal situations!

[writinanon]

Gods and Monsters

I’ve been watching/playing God of War 2018. I love Dad of Boy. It’s great. I never really liked the originals because I didn’t like the very dark tone it took with no only the Mythology but with Kratos. He’s forced to kill/lose everyone he loves and cares for. I like how it’s made him jaded, and you can clearly see how deeply he loves Atreus but he’s almost afraid to care about him. It’s just great. And he’s always been a very loving father because while he was a Spartan he and his wife chose to risk everything for their sickly daughter instead of abandoning her.

Anyway @wafflii has Dakota, who will grow over the course of the story

@yanderedad has Ben, who is the twin Brother of Mercy in this story.

and @azm0n has August, who is still young and growing

  Hope was a land of many Deities, it had started simply as a stopping point between Realms before growing and becoming something more. The blend of different types of Gods was what gave it strength. Those Native to the Lands had been justifiably wary when the First Two came. But the pair had been seeking quiet, solitude, they did not look to take the place of the Native Gods or conquer. They merely wished for a place to rest. Hope acted as a stop, a resting place with few choosing to stay. It wasn’t until much later that the pair would actively seek refuge within the mountains and fields of Hope. So, when the Seeds arrived in the heart of Winter, Hope was expecting them to move on once the heavy snows have passed. But they didn’t. They were like those that didn’t belong in the Valley. They came to take and conquer.

  Ben looked up from his place in the fields with some of his followers. He had been granted the titled of God of Wisdom when the seat was left open. Lately however, his followers were being attacked. Those attacking called his patrons false and claimed him a false idol. They had never been in the area before. Some of his patrons had turned to this new emerging God as they found comfort in his talk of destruction and rebirth. It concerned him that they would seek out such a message but he wouldn’t put it passed this new God to poison the minds of others.

 “Benjamin.” Joseph smiled from his place on the edge of the field. “I wondered if perhaps we might speak? I assure you I do not wish us enemies.” But Ben’s hackles were raised. He was the twin brother of the God of War, he knew when someone intended to harm him. Joseph might not see it as harm, the three Brothers taking to calling themselves the Seeds and Joseph was the Seed of Knowledge, but whatever he planned would hurt Ben. He stood and brushed himself off, his dark auburn hair falling around his ears. Mercy had cut it recently, remarking that it looked better shorter. A few strands fell into his cinnamon colored eyes. Some of his followers looked greatly unsettled.

 “If you wanted to speak, why not seek me in the House?” That was where he spent a good deal of time when not with his Sister or with his followers. He weighed on the laws and rules governing them and their land with Earl, Joey, and a few lesser gods and goddesses of law and morals and ethics. “Why have you come here?” It has been a long time since Ben had been in a fight. Along time since he felt the weight of his spear and shield in his hands. But he felt their press easily. He was sure that Joseph could see their outline. He continued to smile that hollow smile.

 “I simply wished to speak to you, away from those that might seek to influence you against me. I am new.”

 “Then ask for a privet audience.” That clearly bristled Joseph; he was used to his commands being listened to, used to being in charge. “I will ask you to leave at once.” His voice crackled with power and the sky above them churned, threatening to poor rain. Joseph nodded, bowing his head and turned to leave.

 “Very well Benjamin. I shall see you later.” He left turning his back fully to Ben.

 “My Lord?” He looked down at Kim. She was soon to be married and they were looking for the right kinds of flowers to offer blessings. “Is it wise to just let him go?”

 “Perhaps not. But for now, let’s not think of him. Let’s think of you and Nick.” He smiled and she looked worried but nodded slowly.

 “Nick doesn’t like the youngest of them? John. He says he has come to the fields where Dakota and August fly and ‘shows off’. He didn’t make it sound playful.” Nick would be a patron of Dakota is the messenger goddess had patrons or higher standing. Nick had petitioned many times that she should be a Full God but Dakota had not matured enough, had not come into enough power to be a True God yet.

 “I shall speak with Earl, he’ll cool John’s heels. Or he’ll send Joey after him.” The Goddess of Justice and Vindication was not someone to mess with. And she did not appreciate a new ‘law’ god arriving and just taking residence in Hope without even asking permission to stay from the Counsel like all others had.

  News of Jacob Seed’s challenges to the Attendants of the God of War has spread like wild fire. Ben looked in on Eli and Jess, they were healing slowly. The challenge, more like a barely legal assault, has been meant to maim and brutalize, to humiliate, but not to kill. If he killed them, he would be exiled. Or be forced to take their place.

 “I’m gonna stick an arrow through both his eye sockets.” Jess seethed, flinching as she tried to sit up.

 “You’re not going anywhere. The Lord has commanded it.” Eli frowned at her and then looked to Ben. “Don’t let our Lord do anything rash.” As he finished a bell was wrong. It was the one signaling a challenge.

 “The God of Strength has challenged the Hermit God of Healing!” The three looked in horror before Jess pushed herself up.

 “I’m going.” She stated and Ben nodded, lifting her easily.

 “I’m afraid I can’t carry you both.”

 “Hey! Someone need a lift?” Dakota asked as she appeared, swift as the wind. August was on her heels. The Wind God helping to speed up her travels.

 “I’ve been summoned to bare witness.” She murmured tensely.

  The pair stood in the square. Despite the chill of Spring, Jacob as without a shirt and had his large knife in hand. His leather trousers had some stains of blood on them that had darkened to black and his heavy boots seemed to stomp into the ground. His pack of wolves were seated around his siblings.

 “I, the God of Strength, challenge you, the God of Healing in Battle.” Mercy had shifted her cloak to hang behind her as he spoke.

 “I accept your challenge.” She pulled the cloak fully from her shoulders. She wore a black tunic with herbs stitched in red around the collar. They were healing herbs from their Home. The sleeves reached her elbows. Her leather trousers were tucked carefully into her boots and both were lashed with cords. Her Axe rested upon her back gleaming bright in the sun.

 “Birgir, Brother of Bóthildr, you are called to bare witness for her.” Earl called. Ben settled Jess into Mary May’s arms, the mortal baring the weight of the goddess easily, and stepped forward.

 “I agree to bare witness.”

 “Joseph, Brother of Jacob, you are called to bare witness for him.” The Lord of Law and Protection was frowning harshly at the new comers.

 “I agree to bare witness.” Joseph stepped forward as well.

 “Quetzalli, God of Winds, you are called forth to witness and declare the end.” Earl looked to August and she shifted Eli’s weight to Dakota before stepping up to take her place. Her short black hair was ruffled and her eyes turned a bright turquoise before settling back into their deep cocoa color.

 “I will witness and declare the victor.” She said firmly. Ben took Mercy’s cloak and frowned at her in concern but she gave a soft smile.

 “It cannot be denied forever, my Brother.” She mused to him before she stepped forward. The leader of her ‘pride’ of Cougars and Lynx nudged at Ben’s hip and he stepped back. One blue eye and one green eye looked up at him before focusing on her Mistress.

  Mercy had not been called Bóthildr in a long time. The warmth of her True name curled low in her belly and she palmed the handle of her Axe. This would be a short fight.

  Jacob dodged another swing of the Axe, electricity sizzling in the air and causing him to be shocked. He stumbled back. A simple God of Healing, no matter the type of healing, should not have been this strong. She had a few minor nicks in her tunic from where he had managed to graze the clothe with his blade but she remained completely calm.

 “Do tell, Jacob.” Her voice had an odd lilt to it. “Are you even trying to hit me?” He bristled, felt his pack bristle with him. They could no aid him in this challenge. His Judges were unable to be used as the proper tools they were in this provenance. Once he had control of the God of War, he would fix that. And the poor excuses for soldiers. He needed to lure him out though. He hadn’t come when the first two attendants fell, but this one. Oh, he might come out when this one fell.

 “It’s only polite to let a lady have her hits.” He called back and her amusement turned to irritation.

 “Kick his ass Mercy!” The tiny one that John seemed fascinated with called out. The God, Mercy, chuckled and nodded.

 “Yes, I think I shall.” And then the air shifted. It felt like the breath had been pulled from his lungs. The Healing God ceased to be and in her place was a completely different one. “Allow me to correct you upon my Nature, boy. I am Bóthildr, God of War and Healing. I hail from far across the bright ocean. This has become my home. And you shall not take my Throne.” Her eyes shifted from a piercing blue into a blazing vermilion.

  The wounds inflicted by her Axe burned and dug deep. She used both the blade and the hilt, her aggression wouldn’t be satisfied with merely slicing him to ribbons. By the time she had him on his knees he was covered in their color. She scoffed and readied her blade. His head would look nice mounted upon her mantle.

 “Enough!” August called out sharply. “He is beaten. Bóthildr is the victor!” Mercy stilled and looked down at the defeated God of Strength. She leaned closer, letting the blade bite into his neck just slightly.

 “You might have the strength of Youth. But I am Old and Learned. Never challenge me or mine again. Or I will kill you. And your brothers should they attempt to enact revenge for your deserved death.” She pulled back and hooked her Axe onto the mount on her back. Her Brother settled her cloak over her shoulders and she smiled, hand touching his shoulder before settling on the head of Peaches. Her companion gave a warm purr and they walked away. The Gods and people gave her wide birth, she had always been a stranger, a thing to fear, but now they knew she was a Monster. She nodded to the Whitehorse before taking her attendants and leaving.

  August and Dakota followed Ben to Mercy’s cabin. Jerome and Grace the God of Shelter and Written Knowledge and the Goddess of Swift Justice and Vengeance were already there and waiting for them.

 “You could have let her cut his head off.” Grace muttered once they were all settled. Mercy was wrapping bandages around Jess’ thigh.

 “As much as I would have relished in starting a New War it would not have been in Hope’s best interest.” The God admitted. Her eyes had not returned to their usual winter blue, remaining a bright almost pulsing red. She tied off the bandage and moved to look over her ribs.

 “Why didn’t you tell us you were the God of War?” August ignored the jab at her and the disapproval radiating off Grace and Jess. They had both come to hate the God of Strength in their territory but knew that they couldn’t challenge him outright because he was a Strength God and going at him head on was not something they could do.

 “He wouldn’t last a day out in the woods without those beasts of his.” Jess hissed and flinched as Mercy pressed healing magic into the bruises along her lower ribs. “My Lord, really all of this is unnecessary.”

 “Hush and let me do my work.” Mercy murmured, never lifting her eyes from the wounds. Her hands were steady.

 “How are you so calm? And why didn’t you come help Eli and Jess sooner if you’re such a powerful God?” August didn’t like not knowing. She didn’t like to think that she had become attached to something fake.

 “August.” Ben chided her softly.

 “No, it’s fine Brother.” Mercy rose and turned to face August. “Quetzalli, you come from a land of many Gods, your Father is the Great Feathered Serpent. Do you brag of the things you did? Do you recall the path that lead you to coming to Hope?” August felt her throat close. She didn’t like to think on it but she accepted what she had done.

 “I never hid my True Nature.”

 “Nor have I. My secondary Nature is to Heal those in Battle. My Brother and I came here for peace. Long, long ago I was forced to make a decision. I chose a bloody path, I chose a War against my own Kin. All that remain are my attendants and my Brother.”

 “But you’re not that way anymore… Right?” Dakota asked softly. Mercy didn’t look away from August.

 “I am what I am. God of War.” She turned and Jess pushed her towards Eli and she nodded, beginning to attend once again to his wounds.

  Grace looked at the dark forest.

 “They’ll be gunning for her and you. Not that they weren’t already.”

 “John is getting closer and closer to Earl with each passing day. Are you and Joey going to challenge him together?”

 “If it comes to it. I don’t like his oily nature.”

 “Joseph has made plays to speak with me. I believe, especially now, after seeing this minor extent of Lord Mercy’s power that he’ll target more of your Patrons and those of us who have similar but different Nature.” Jerome said with a soft sigh. Ben nodded and looked at the other two Gods.

 “Be safe my friends.” They nodded departing. They were easily surrounded by the large cats that were Mercy’s Animal. One thing was certain, there was going to be a battle for Hope soon. Everyone needed to be ready.

[popmybrains]

Dead Birds - Ben Paul x Reader

Paring : Ben Paul x Reader

A/N: I’ve been rewatching run through of The Walking Dead Video game, considering I’m a big fan of the show, and Ben’s character honestly really really grew on me. I was a little broken over how he died so how do I cope? I right fanfiction over it of course. This is pretty short so sorry :)

Warnings: Angst/Fluff , Suicide/Murder , Slight Gore

Summary: (Y/N) had been with Ben since the world went to shit, arriving with Ben and their school coch at the motor inn. But what happens when Ben and (Y/N) fall together off the balcony? Someone gets speared, the other breaks a leg and Kenny will have to make a choice.

(Y/N) sat next to Ben, clinging onto his left arm, having just excasped death in the by fleeing into the attic while the mansion underneath them flooded with the dead.

Her tear stained faced buried into his shoulder as he rested his head into his free arm. While many of the group believed Ben to be the weak one, it actually was the (H/C) hair colored girl clinging onto his arm instead. She listened as Omid beat against the wall, Kenny, Lee, and Christa all secretly talking about you and Ben - they weren’t being as quiet as they thought they were.

Blinking away a few stray tears from her (E/C) eyes she leaned into Ben, feeling him pull his arm out of her grip. Opening her mouth to protest wanting him with her to feel safe she quickly shut her mouth instead when she felt it return, but instead around her shoulder, having Ben pull her closer into his side.

“I’m scared Ben.” (Y/N) whispered as Ben turned his head to look down at his girlfriend. Sighing Ben turned to look at the other four older members of their dysfunctional group. When his gazed returned to (Y/N)’s water filled one, he silently broke on the inside, bringing his other hand up to cup her face within his gigantic palm he rested his forehead against her own.

“I know you are (Y/N), I am too, but I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” He whispered before going to nuzzle her with his nose - Eskimo kisses being something he used to make her smile all the time when she was upset before their world went to shit.

Pulling back he saw the sad smile on her face, her eyes halfway open. Opening her mouth to say something, she didn’t get the chance before Omid called saying he had broken through.

-

Ben held (Y/N) by the waist as he help her carefully land into the room they had busted into, after scanning over her silently with his eyes he made a mental note that all though shaken up, she was fine. That was until he saw her eyes widen.

Confused, Ben turn to see what she was looking at only to see that the rest of the group was looking at it too - the lovers who took their life together. Ben felt his heart clench, and a grip enter and tighten around his own hand.

The group was silent as Kenny went up to take the gun out of the dead mans grasp, taking a look into how many bullets the pistol carried. “Only one left.” He mumbled, putting the safety on and the gun into his pants.

Christa looked to Omid, her face appearing to be heartbroken - mirroring (Y/N)’s own face. Turning to Lee, Christa said they should check the room all before leaving, seeing if they could find anything they would need.

Ben and (Y/N) both walked over to the window, as the petite girl looked out the boreded window, whispering to Ben. “I don’t want us to end up like them. I don’t want to die like that, just giving up.” She whispered. Ben looked at the (S/C) colored woman, shocked. He never expected her to say something like that. “I promise we won’t.” He whispered back to her. Opening his mouth to say more, he heard the sound of a door opening, and Christa’s voice calling out to say theirs nothing of value within the room.

As the group decided to jump up one to the second building, the young couple stood and watched waiting for their turn. Watching as it went from Lee, Omid, Christa, Kenny and now the teenagers.

The two stood together on the small balcony, as (Y/N) looked over the edge, into the alleyway. “I don’t think I can do it Ben.” She turned her head up to stare into the tall boys blue eyes. “You’ll be fine, I’ll be right here-“ He tried to tell her, gripping her wasit as he lifted her up onto the railing, only for both of them to here a clang, and then to feel both of them falling, listening to Lee and Kenny scream shit.

When (Y/N) hit the ground, she felt a snap, and let out a quick and shrill shriek, and heard Ben’s own mantra of, “I’m okay.”

Hearing footsteps run towards herself and Ben who was now covered in trash. “Be quiet Ben! Or the dead will be on us!” The one armed man said trying to hush Ben.

“I’m okay really, please just get (Y/N) up, I think her leg is hurt.” Ben said, shifting his head in her direction to see her sitting on her ass, cradling the leg bent at an odd angle.

“Give us a moment and let us help you first.” Kenny said, pushing the trash out of the way to revel that Ben has been pierced through his stomach.

Everyone went dead silent and (Y/N) felt as though her heart had just stopped, with perseverance and adrenaline now she ignored the throbbing pain within her leg and crawled her way over to Ben. “No, no.” She whispered, bring her hands up to his cradle his face as his own went to grip the metal poking out of his abdomen slicked in blood.

Kenny tried to lift him up only for Ben to scream out in pain making more blood ooze from the wound, forcing Kenny stop his work. Lee being the first to actually speak up, he told Kenny to just rip him up like a bandaid, but it was useless, the dead had already started to corner them. Bens eyes widened in fear, his own turning to to meet (Y/N)’s gaze before he paincked.

“Oh god don’t let them get to me!” He pleaded with Kenny, knowing there was no way for them to get him off the metal pike. Kenny had turned to Lee, ending up to have their own small conversation, while Ben looked directly into his girlfriends eyes.

“You need to go with Lee, now.” His usually soft and gentle slightly nervous voice now holding a tone of seriousness (Y/N) never heard before. Being scared out of her wits, she decided that if this was his stop, it would be hers too.

Slowly starting to cry as the dead got closer, she held onto one of his hands tighter. “No, I don’t leave you. If you die, so do I.” She cried, her sobs being mixed in with the moans of walkers. Bens heart broke, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to change her mind, which broke him the most, turning his head to Kenny who was now alone, with no Lee in sight.

“Give me the gun Kenny.” The old mans mouth opened in protest before Ben cut him off again. With a solemn look on his face, he gave the gun to Ben, giving (Y/N) a sorry glance before making his way to a manhole cover in the middle of the street to save his own hide now.

“Why do you need the gun Ben-“ (Y/N) asked before her eyes widened, realizing the gun was posting between her eyeballs. “I love you more then anything (Y/N) (L/N).” Ben said giving her a sad smile eyes filled with tears as they leaked down his cheeks, the geeks finally closing in.

Opening her lips to scream no, she never got the chance before Ben pulled the trigger, the brains and blood of his now deceased girlfriend spalttering all over his own face and the ground below them, her one stiff now limp body falling to lay on his chest.

Laying a hand on your head, softly petting your hair he tried not to scream as the dead bit into his flesh and trying to die happy.

Knowing he just saved you from living his worst fear.

[reddieloserz]

As Long As We’re Together

IT 2017 - Reddie - WIP StreetPerformer!Richie and Bookstore!Eddie Slow Burn, Slice of Life

“When the end of high school began to gang up on the six of them, they each promised the other that the moment graduation happened they would leave Derry for good. Now each of them were 21 (Bill was 22), and so far they have kept that promise.

They had found an old Victorian Townhouse up for rent right off of Main St. They had all agreed on Portland, Maine. They all knew they would be okay as long as they’re together.”

An AU where The Losers are all roommates in a huge house just off of Main St, where they all work. Eddie is a college student working in a bookstore. Richie is a homeless street performer who relies on his guitar and Voices to make money. Trashmouth soon walks into their lives and turns everything upside down.

Chapter 3 Below Cut Also on AO3

Eddie and the gang ended up going home with Bill at the end of his shift that night. Ben and Bev danced the night away, high on the bliss of being with their partner. After Richie had left, Eddie felt that old familiar cynicism and sat back down at his place at the bar counter.

He talked with Bill most of the night, both of them people watching and laughing at a lot of the absurdity that went down before them. Eddie and Bill were never best friends, thanks to Eddie’s crush (unbeknownst to Bill). But since moving to The House they had grown to be extremely close. It seems that that is what happened with all of them. Once you move far away from everything you know, all you really have is each other. Eddie didn’t know if he would find a better love than that. But as he sat and laughed with Bill, his heart pinned for something more. He hoped that he would.

It had been months since Eddie had stayed out this late though, damn near three in the morning. He was so exhausted he had to have Bill hold his hand and guide him to his small room upstairs.

Bev and Ben drunkenly gave them both a soft kiss on the mouth, and then went hand in hand into their own room. Eddie could hear faint talk and laughter every few minutes, and he knew they weren’t going to bed anytime soon.

Bill helped pull Eddie’s shoes off of his feet, but left Eddie with his thick socks and jacket on. It really was freezing in their house, the fireplace long gone cold since they left the house earlier that night. Bill then pulled the comforter out from under Eddie’s immobile body, and he tucks him in nice and tight. He leans over Eddie, barely grazing a kiss into his hair before he is leaning back up to walk out of the room.

“Night, Eddie. I’m glad I saw you dancing tonight. I love you.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and as he turned around, he felt a small, warm hand grasp his.

“Stay, Bill.” Eddie says quietly. He gave Bill’s hand a tight squeeze, stopping him from leaving the room. Bill turned back around to face Eddie’s sad expression. Bill thought for sure that he had already fallen asleep.

“Stay.”

There was a desperation in Eddie’s voice that he was almost embarrassed about. He knew that Bill’s room, which was the attic, was the coldest and the largest in the whole house. It had to be at least ten degrees colder when you went up there. Eddie would tell himself that he only offered for Bill to sleep with him because of the cold weather, but he knew himself better than that.

He was lonely. He wanted a warm body next to his. He usually took advantage of Bill’s kindness in this way. He would ask to borrow Bill’s coat, or coax him into letting him hold hands. Bill did it because of his nearly father-like love for his Losers. Eddie did it so he could pretend, at least for a few minutes, that he had someone just to call his own. No sharing

Bill’s face lit up at Eddie’s request, and he quickly shucked off his own shoes, coat, tie, and jeans before climbing into Eddie’s small bed with him. He loved any opportunity to get some affection from any one of his kids, and he couldn’t control the grin that split his face in two as he snuggled into Eddie’s back.

“Is this okay?” Bill asked, acting as the Big Spoon without actually throwing an arm over Eddie’s body. The warmth that radiated from Bill was familiar and welcoming, and Eddie took a huge big breath in to smell Bill’s signature scent.

“Yeah, it’s okay. Goodnight, Billy.” Eddie said, feeling contentment and exhaustion take over his senses.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

Eddie pretended Bill was another person. Tried to ignore just how familiar Bill’s scent was. He closed his eyes, feeling Bill’s soft heartbeat on his chest. He pretended that the hair he felt on his neck was black and curly.

He fell asleep with a small smile on his face.

The rest of his weekend began how all his other ones do- Running errands and doing his house chores. Working full time and having a huge ass house didn’t really give him a lot of extra free time.

Everyone else in the house also had a list of things that they had to get done throughout the month- Beverly usually did all of the laundry, Mike did all of the lawn work, Stan did all of the budgeting and billing, things like that. Eddie insisted that he be the one to clean both bathrooms and the kitchen. He said that most bacteria and viruses were brought about through sinks and plumbing, and nobody else was about to argue with him on that- they all agreed that his job had to be the worst out of everyone’s in the house. He liked it though, it just reassured him that things were up to his cleanliness, especially the goddamn bathtub. Living with four hard working boys wasn’t the easiest for him- they stunk.

He had powered through his chores in record time, so he decided to go down to the basement to help out Beverly. Out of everyone, her job was definitely the most time consuming. A few loads had already been completed. Stan, Mike, and Bill’s small hampers were full of fresh smelling linens. It put a smile on Eddie’s face to see Bev’s care in her folding- even all of their socks and underwear.

They were both sitting and folding Ben and Eddie’s last two loads, when Bill came down to fetch his clean clothes. He immediately swept Beverly up into a huge hug, as he always did, and blew a raspberry into her cheek. She laughed and shoved him off as he said thank you, simply clipping, “Don’t mention it Big B.”

Bill grabbed his hamper, shouting over his shoulder up the stairs.

“BOYS! Beverly is done with the laundry, come get your shit!”

Bill gave Bev one more big smile before climbing the staircase, but halfway up he seemed to remember he needed to mention something. Ben and Stan came thumping down, arguing back and forth about something having to do with plants.

“Oh, Beverly. I forgot to tell you- your friend Trashmouth came into the bar last night.” Bill says. This makes Beverly perk up and Eddie pull a grossed out face.

“Trashmouth?” They say in unison, Beverly in excitement and Eddie is disgust. “What kind of name is Trashmouth?” He adds quietly, finishing up with the pile of towels he was folding.

“Yeah! He came in and auditioned for Keith. He totally got a spot to play every Sunday- our open mic night.” Bill says.

“That’s so fucking awesome, Bill, I told him to go in and talk with you about it! Did you get to meet him?” She says, completely enthralled.

“Yeah, I did. The dude is a total card- seriously bonkers. He hung out with me at my counter most of last night, and he wanted me to let you know he was playing next week.” Bill says, a smile pulling at his lips at the memory.

Eddie hadn’t heard a word about Trashmouth - let alone that Beverly had a friend outside of her coworkers and the Losers. He tried to snuff out his jealousy, but it was loud and irritation panged in his chest. Who was this Trashmouth anyway? And why was he so quickly becoming a favorite for his two best friends?

Eddie couldn’t keep the sour expression off of his face, but Bev and Bill ignored him as they chatted. Ben leaned over beside Eddie to pick up his clothes, before standing up straight and speaking up himself.

“Yeah, I know Trashmouth! He was the first person to sign my petition last week. He is the strangest mixture of weirdo and heartthrob. I couldn’t stop blushing, honestly.” Ben said, shame nowhere in his voice. Ben was extremely secure in his masculinity and it would of made Eddie smile at him if he wasn’t already so irrationally irritated.

This made Beverly laugh and pinch Ben’s cheeks.

“Yeah, Mike and I met him at the Tea Shop yesterday- apparently he is a street performer. Have any of you guys seen him play music on the corner near Eddie’s Bookstore yet? Is he as irritating to watch as he is to talk to?” Stan quips in. He had a strange expression on his face, like he was trying his best to fight off a smile at the mere mention of Trashmouth.

Comprehension colored Eddie’s mind- Oh. So that was who they were talking about. Eddie had to admit, he found Trashmouth extremely magnetic as well. Not only that, but for the past few weeks he had found Trashmouth’s music to be one of the best parts of his day. His gravelly voice and soft guitar would sometimes help Eddie drift off to sleep, just the memory of his music soothing him.

Eddie shook himself out of his thoughts just as everyone began to head back upstairs with their laundry. Eddie quickly picked up his pile of clothes to follow behind them.

“Well, I’m glad all of you already know him, because I was going to use this to lead into another question. I asked him if he wanted to come over tonight for a bonfire- is that okay with all of you?” Bill asked from his place on the top of the stairs, looking down on the four of them with a questioning gaze.

“Yes!” Beverly squealed, her face nearly red with joy and excitement. Ben and Stan nodded as well, simply happy that they were going to be having a fire soon- it was getting cold from the sun going down already.

Eddie knew that this was going to be another long night. How did he always get roped into his friend’s misadventures?

While Mike was getting a fire started in the backyard, Ben was preparing hot dogs and burgers to be cooked over the fire.

The anticipation of their very first guest in their home was getting Eddie pretty riled up. He felt near constant waves of anxiety pool into his belly every few minutes. He hadn’t even met the guy yet, but he couldn’t help but already feel like Eddie wasn’t going to be a big fan. He wasn’t one to judge a book by its cover, but just from the details he had picked up from Ben and Beverly he could tell- this guy was a handful.

Eddie swallowed and rubbed his face. You got this, Eddie. It’s just some guy- just a guest. It’ll be… fun. He thought. The word didn’t sit right in his head, even, and Eddie sighed. He wasn’t the best at making friends, and he found himself lucky that he had managed to make the five that he already had.

Beverly, being able to tell just how anxious he really was, knocked on his bedroom door. He called for her to come in, and she quietly opened the door. She stood in front of him, offering a bowl of something that smelled fruity and held up an entire cucumber in front of his eyes.

“Cucumber facial?” She offered, a smile playing on her lips and her eyebrows raised. Eddie’s face broke into a grin. She always knew how to make him feel better.

They walked into the bathroom and Bev sat down on the floor, legs crossed and back pressed up against the bathtub. She had already applied the light green clay mask to the face, and she got busy cutting up the cucumber on a cutting board she had brought upstairs.

Eddie stood in front of the mirror and began painting his freckled face with the cucumber mask. He noticed his skin was dry and nearly cracked, thanks to the cold climate. He scrunched his nose as he rubbing it into his skin, the mask making his face freezing.

“So… Who was that you were dancing with Friday night?” Beverly asks with a coy smile, not bothering to beat around the bush. This makes Eddie blanch and she giggles at him.

“Oh, what? You didn’t think I didn’t notice, did you? Mother knows all.” She says as she laughs at her own joke. Her laughter was like music to Eddie’s ears.

“N-no! It was just…” Eddie tries to resist the smile that wants to crawl on to his face. “It was no one.”

Richie had actually been on Eddie’s mind almost constantly the last few days. They way his front teeth peaked out over his bottom lip, his thick bush of curls, the blue dress he was wearing. The image of Richie was imprinted into Eddie’s mind. It wasn’t just the way that he looked, either. Richie was funny, flamboyant, and just plain odd. He has the strangest and most addicting energy, and Eddie wanted more. He didn’t think that people like Richie actually existed, let alone would be interested in spending most of their night with Eddie.

“It was not no one. Come on, tell me about him. Are you going to see him again? Or was it just a one-time thing?” Her questioning gets interrupted when she picks up a cucumber slice and bites into it.

“He… We… I think it was just a one time thing,” Eddie begins. “But I really, really hope it isn’t. I actually can’t get him out of my mind, Bev.” He admits, blush hidden behind his face mask.

“What was his name?” She asks quietly, trying to hide her smile behind her cucumber slice.

“Richie.” He says breathlessly, a stupidly dreamy look taking over his face.

“What was he like? He seems to have made quite the impression on you.”

“He… He was electric. He just walked right up to me and grabbed my hand, asked me to dance with him. I was scared shitless but he… He was so himself that I felt comfortable to be myself, you know? Like I couldn’t be any weirder than him, so I felt kind of… Safe.” He concludes, not knowing he felt that way until he uttered the words.

“Did you guys not exchange numbers, or…?”

“I told him I wanted to see him again. He promised that I would.” Eddie blushes even deeper at this, but he is all done applying his facial so neither of them see it. “He said he works on Main St. too… So hopefully I’ll bump into him eventually.”

Just as Eddie finishes his sentence, the doorbell rings.

Beverly immediately perks up, her smile growing to an incredible degree.

“That has to be Trashmouth!” She yelps and hands the cutting board of cucumber over to Eddie. She quickly opens the door and speed-walks to the stairs. She doesn’t even stop to wash the mask off of her face before she is already downstairs.

Eddie quickly follows behind her, placing one cucumber over his left eye and taking another slice to complete his look when he has a moment to sit down. He climbs down the steps just as Beverly swings open the door, flinging herself into the arms of a very tall man.

“T! Hi! Welcome to the Losers Club!” Beverly pulls away from him and giggles, wiping off some of the mask that she accidentally got on Trashmouth’s cheek.

“Hey, Bev! Thank you for having me, Ma Cherie. Where’s Bill?” Richie’s voice asks.

Wait.

Richie’s voice?

Eddie finally steps onto the main floor and just as he takes a chomp of his other cucumber slices. When his eyes rake over Richie’s tall form, he is shocked into stillness. His mouth hangs open, mid-bite. As Eddie stares, his other cucumber falls off of his eye and onto the floor.

Richie’s eyes meet his in that moment, and instant familiarity colors Richie’s dark eyes. A giant grin graces his face and he lifts both of his arms up into the air, walking towards Eddie.

“What?! Spaghetti Man!”

Richie is wearing a yellow button up that has psychedelic patterns all over it. It was button only to his sternum, and a little bit of dark chest hair peaked out. It was paired with, you guessed it, a matching colored floor-length skirt and vans. Richie’s hair wasn’t as wild as it had been the other night, but it definitely was voluminous in only the way Richie’s hair could be. Curls cascaded around his face and his beard looked much darker than it had Friday night. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and Eddie couldn’t react fast enough before Richie’s arms were folded around his shoulders, bringing him in for a warm and sincere hug.

Eddie stared wide eyed, not reciprocating the embrace, and staring directly at Bev in horror. She just looked on in fascination. They knew each other?

And here Eddie was, next to the boy of his affections, and he was clad only in tiny red shorts and a yellow shirt, looking like a complete fool. His face was absolutely smothered with his clay mask, and his mouth was stuffed full of cucumber. So stuffed, he couldn’t swallow in time before he had to say something to Richie.

“Hi, ‘Chee.” Eddie says around a full mouth, swallowing painfully. Richie pulls away from him, but keeps his hands braced on Eddie’s shoulder while he gets a better look at the smaller man.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. I didn’t know you knew Bev! Doing a little bit of self care, Princess?” Richie says, wiping away some of the clay mask that had rubbed onto his shirt from hugging Eddie. And Eddie knows that he was not meaning to be condescending, but he felt so embarrassed in that moment he couldn’t help but lightly push Richie away from him.

“Hey! Don’t call me that!” He huffs, glancing over to Beverly in annoyance but she is just staring back at them in complete amusement. She has a mischievous look in her eyes, and she just keeps glancing back and forth between them.

Eddie’s small temper tantrum just makes Richie laugh, and he is bringing Eddie in for another hug, that Eddie begrudgingly accepts. He thanks whatever God there is out there that the embarrassing facial mask is at least covering up an even more embarrassing blush that has spread across his cheeks.

“Wait, wait, wait. Richie? The same guy Eddie was hanging out with the other night? Wait- Your name is Richard?” Beverly asks loudly, walking over to Richie and pinching his arm.

“You never told me your actual name, T! What the hell?!” He retaliates by pinching her back, releasing Eddie from his friendly hold. He keeps going in for pinches a few more times, following her as she guides him into the kitchen to find Bill.

"Trashmouth my stage name! Like Madonna or-"

"Like Madonna?! You think Trashmouth is equal to Madonna?"

Eddie just stands right in his place, not bothering to watch them leave. He was completely shell-shocked. Richie was Trashmouth? The Trashmouth that everyone was so fond of, cascading around Main St like he owned it? Trashmouth, the man that had become the soundtrack to his life since moving to Portland?

The world was much smaller than Eddie ever anticipated.

And Richie just kept getting stranger.

They had all ended up sitting in a circle around their small campfire, and Ben had just finished barbecuing some burgers. Most of the other Losers had little hot dogs on sticks, and everyone was quietly chatting amongst themselves as they huddled around the warmth of the flames. Everyone except for Eddie, that is.

Eddie had quickly gone upstairs and washed his face, changed out of his pajamas, and dressed into something more suitable for a cute boy to see him in. A cute boy that had danced with him for nearly two hours. A cute boy that held him and called him gorgeous. A cute boy that, evidently, Eddie cared a lot about. A lot about his opinion of him, a least.

But Richie hadn’t stopped in his socializing to come talk to Eddie again, not even once, since he greeted him at the front door. He was too busy sharing a beer with Bill, talking about Bill’s art that had recently been put up in The Gallery. Or sitting next to Stan, using different Voices and accents to get him annoyed and riled up until he eventually started throwing buns at Richie while the others begged him to stop wasting food. Richie spent most of his time with Beverly, however, and she was seated on the ground in front of him while he sat in a chair beside Ben, talking quietly to one another.

The Losers had told Richie about how they all grew up together, all sharing the same school, and eventually all running away from home as soon as possible. They told Richie all about their childhood antics, about how Ben and Bev fell in love, about how Stan and Mike had gotten their jobs at the Tea Shop. They basically caught him all the way up into present day, not saving any embarrassing details. They even told Richie about the Roach Incident and Stan’s story telling nearly brought him to tears.

Eddie had decided that his best course of action was to just smoke some weed, eat a hot dog, and stay permeated into the background. Like he always was. At this point he wasn’t even sure if he wanted Richie’s attention anymore. He felt so deflated that he just wanted this night to be over altogether.

He didn’t go upstairs though, because he knew that that would be weird and that the other Losers really did want him there. So instead he remained silent, staring into the fire while he listened to his other friends happily chat amongst themselves. Everyone really was enjoying Richie’s company, he fell right into place with them like a missing puzzle piece. It would of been a very lovely scene altogether, Eddie thinks, if he wasn’t already feeling out of place himself.

Mike seemed to notice his lack of presence, because the large man picked up a lawn chair and plopped it right next to Eddie. Eddie jumped a little, but immediately relaxed after seeing Mike’s warm and friendly face.

“What are you doing all the way over here, bud?” Mike asked, placing a large and warm hand against the top of Eddie’s back. Eddie leans into his touch, gazing back into the darker man’s eyes. Mike just had that effect on people, you know? Where just his presence alone brought a feeling of serenity.

“Nothing.” Eddie shrugs at him, immediately shifting his gaze to the ground. “I guess I’m just not feeling very… social.” His eyes drift over to Richie and Mike doesn’t miss it.

“Feeling anxious about the unwelcome guest?” Mike asks, hitting a complete bullseye. He always knew what Eddie was thinking. No, what they were all thinking. He had to have been an empath or something, Eddie ponders.

“... Yes.” Eddie admits, fingers twitching around his plate. “Not about the guest, just… In general, I guess.”

“You’ve been staring at Trashmouth all night. Why don’t you go talk to him?” Mike asks, rubbing a small circle into Eddie’s shoulder blades.

Because I want him to come over here and talk to me, Eddie thinks stubbornly. He knew Mike was right, of course. If you want something, go get it. He shouldn’t just be waiting around for Richie to make the move, but he was definitely out of his element if he were to be the one to.

“I heard him talking about you in the kitchen with Bev and Bill.” Mike says quietly, eyes trained on Richie so that he doesn’t overhear him. “I think he likes you.”

Eddie’s interest was definitely peaked but he remained steadfast. He wasn’t going to give Mike what he wanted, and decided to be a turd instead. “Yeah, well he doesn’t even know me.”

“Let him get to know you, then.” Mike glances back towards Eddie, giving him a flirtatious smile before getting up out of his seat and moving it back next to Stan.

Eddie feels his heartbeat in his throat as he looks back over towards Richie. His face was illuminated by the orange glow of the bonfire and he looked gorgeous. He was playing with Bev’s hair with one hand, and flicking his cigarette with the other.

And if Eddie was hoping that it looked like he wasn’t pining, he would be absolutely mistaken. Eddie had this dreamy look in his eye that he used to get when he would look towards Bill, but this time it was much worse. His eyes fluttered and he only realized he let out a little sigh when Bev glanced over towards him and quirked an eyebrow.

He straightened up, clearing his throat, and looking away from her and glancing literally anywhere else.

Get ahold of yourself, Kaspbrak. It’s just Richie.

And it was just Richie. Gorgeous, enthusiastic, charming Richie and Eddie hated him for it. He didn’t end up getting up to talk to Richie that night, either. He didn’t even end up sticking around long enough to say goodbye to him when he left. Instead, he tucked himself into bed a few hours early, and willed the romantic thoughts that he had been playing with all weekend about Richie away.

If Richie wasn’t actually interested in him, fine. He wasn’t going to be interested either.

“Does Eddie hate me?” Richie asks a few nights later, as Beverly is getting prepared to close up shop. The thought had been bothering him ever since the bonfire, and he couldn’t get that little firecracker’s face out of his brain. The way Eddie had glared at him all night didn’t sit well in his stomach.

“Hate you?” Beverly scoffs, sweeping the floor. “No. Why would you say that?”

“Because I think he does. Did you see the daggers he was giving me all night?” Richie said, voice rising. “What did I do to deserve the Spaghetti Glare of the century? I mean… I thought we were cool.”

This makes Beverly laugh out loud. “He does have kind of a resting bitch face, doesn’t he? No, T, that is just what he looks like when he’s nervous.”

“Nervous? Why would he be nervous?” Richie asks, completely clueless.

“Wow. You’re completely clueless.” Beverly breathes, staring at him with pity.

“What? No I’m not… Beverly! Don’t laugh!”

“Does Richie hate me?” Eddie asks that same night.

He and Beverly are sitting on the couch downstairs. A movie plays quietly in the background and all the other Losers are fast asleep. Eddie couldn’t fall asleep though, and he had woken Beverley up and convinced her to watch a few movies with him. They both had to work exceptionally early tomorrow morning, but she just grinned at him and said “Of course.”

This didn’t happen too often, but Beverly knew that sleep didn’t come easy to Eddie when he had something plaguing his mind. This isn’t what she thought it was, though, and she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her mouth.

“What? Beverly, don’t laugh!”

“Sorry, sorry… No, he doesn’t hate you, Eddie. What makes you say that?” She asks, eyes still trained on the television as she tosses some popcorn into her mouth.

“He just… kind of avoided me all night, at the bonfire. I thought that he was going to want to talk with me but… I guess he was too busy.” Eddie’s tone falls completely flat at the end of his sentence, his disappointment extremely evident in his voice.

She hums in acknowledgement, and as she chews on the new information, she picks up the remote and presses pause. Beverly turns to Eddie, crossing her legs, and takes his hands in hers. He just stares down at his lap, feeling embarrassed but simultaneously relieved at the confession.

He couldn’t get Richie off of his mind. Stupid Richie. What gave him the right to invade Eddie’s mind, anyway? They shared a dance, so what? Richie had made him feel alive and wanted for the first time in months… So what?

“You really like him, yeah?” Beverly says softly. Eddie doesn’t reply, just scrunches his face up in mock disgust. She lets out another laugh, but quickly quiets down. Her gaze is burning holes into Eddie’s head and he eventually makes eye contact with her.

“You’re worth getting to know, Eddie. You need to find some self confidence. You’re adorable, and smart, and really fucking funny. You have to stop beating yourself up just because you get a little nervous. It’s normal to clam up around someone you like.”

“But Richie doesn’t clam up! He is loud and.... Abrasive…” Eddie says, letting a little bit of venom slip into his voice. Stupid Richie.

“Yeah, well, Trashmouth is a spaz. I’m sure you can already tell.” Beverly teases. This makes Eddie crack a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I’m betting that reason is the same reason he was too distracted to remember to talk to you. Boys are stupid. Richie is no different.” Eddie snorts at this, and nods enthusiastically in agreement. Beverly leans forward and places a kiss softly to Eddie’s mouth, platonic and sweet.

“I love you, Eddie. Don’t let some boy make you feel unimportant. If you like him, you let him know just how important you are.”

“Okay. I love you too, Bev.”

The next time Eddie sees Richie is when he is walking to work that Friday morning. He hears Richie before he sees him, of course, and Eddie steels himself. Hold your ground, Kasprak.

You hear laughter,

Cracking through the walls,

It sends you spinning.

You have no choice.

Richie’s voice fills the cold air and he sounds beautiful. His voice is extremely soft and unlike the original song. He has slowed down the song considerably and he is swaying back and forth, looking extremely carefree. Richie’s eyes are closed as he sings aloud, feeling the music in its entirety.

You hear laughter,

Cracking through the walls,

It sends you spinning.

You have no choice.

Just Eddie is unlocking the front door to his bookstore and he is home free, he hears Richie put his hands over the strings of his guitar and stop singing.

“Eddie Spaghetti!” He calls, looking both ways before he jogs across the street and towers over Eddie. Richie’s smile is wide and sincere, his eyes crinkled to the point Eddie could barely see his eyes.

“Don’t call me that, Richie.” Eddie says, but his stern tone doesn’t have much impact because of the smile that graces his face.

“Hey, um… How-How are you?” Richie stutters and for the first time Eddie witnesses Richie’s nervousness. Eddie didn’t even think he was capable of being self aware, let alone nervousness.

“I’m okay. I’ve been better,” Eddie says honestly. He grips the strap of his satchel tightly, but he refuses to drop his gaze from Richie’s.

“I just wanted to say… I really enjoyed seeing you the other night. And seeing you the few nights before that, too.”

“You did?” Eddie asks, straining his voice from sounding hopeful. Stand your ground, Kaspbrak. “You could have fooled me.”

This makes Richie raise his eyebrows and smile self-consciously.

“What?”

“I said, you could have fooled me. You didn’t really talk to me the other night, Richie. I noticed.”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to talk to you.” Richie admits, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you? I… I told you I wanted to see you again, at the bar.” Eddie says, swallowing hoarsely. He really wasn’t planning to put Richie on blast, but here he was. Eddie was a lot more confrontational than he gave himself credit for.

“I guess I was just… Surprised to see you, Spaghetti.” Richie reaches his arm and scratches the back of his head in embarrassment. Eddie notes this, and tries his best not to admit how fucking cute it is.

“You were surprised to see me?   There I was, cucumber facial, and fucking Richie “Trashmouth” walks into my home!” Eddie nearly yells, waving his hands in the air above his head. This makes Richie laugh out loud, and Eddie tries to shoot him a glare but it comes out playful. “I’m serious! And then you basically ignore me all night-”

“Okay, I get it. I do. I’m sorry I didn’t give you all the attention you were looking for, Spaghetti Head. I didn’t know it upset you so much.” Richie teases, bringing his hand from his hair over to Eddie’s to tuck a curl of hair behind his ear.

Eddie holds his breath and silently watches Richie touch him. He shivers softly as his cold fingers graze his flushed face.

“I promise I won’t do it again. Next time we hang out, it’ll be the Richie and Eddie show, I swear it.” Richie says, crossing a little X over his heart. And that is all Eddie really wanted, in actuality. He wanted someone for himself. Richie somehow knew exactly what to say and Eddie can’t help the smile that splits across his face. He lightly shoves Richie away. Then, in a moment of sheer courage-

“Good. I think I deserve to have a boy’s attention for more than one night.” He nods, crossing his arms across his chest and bringing his gaze back up to Richie’s.

His flirtation makes Richie smile gleefully and he throws his head back in a laugh. When he looks back down back at him, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he would of said his eyes were filled with complete adoration.

“I think we’re going to be great friends, Eds.” Richie says behind him as he turns back around towards the bookstore, a smirk evident in his voice.

“Yeah, you wish, Trashmouth.” Eddie drawls, and only the flirtatious swing of his hips gives him away.

Richie just stares at him as he walks away, shaking his head lightly with his signature large grin. He turns away from the bookstore, then, and continues his singing as he crosses the street.

Following the footsteps of a ragdoll dance,

We are entranced.

Spellbound,

Spellbound,

Spellbound...

Notes:

Yay! All the Losers finally together! We can get this party started!

Some more headcanons: -If Bill is dad then Mike is most definitely Mom like he is so caring and empathetic, I feel like the moment anyone is feeling off or left out Mike is 100% there to reassure them and let them know how loved they are -Beverly and Richie are honestly the brotp of the century I can't wait until Bev starts to feel comfortable enough to give Richie lil smooches because that guy needs it -I feel like being around Richie is already extremely healing for Eddie, like never in a million years would he be teasing or confident enough to tell a cute boy what he wants -Stan hates and loves Richie in equal amounts, as always, no matter the AU we know this to be the eternal truth like the fucking gospel

Thanks for reading!! Let me know what you think my loves!!!

[thxrquill]

Je T’aime, Mon Cher Eddie

For @time-for-tozier who came up with this idea, I hope you like it!!

Eddie watched as the clock’s minute hand moved towards the number 12, making a ticking noise as it wet round. He was so fixated that he jumped when the bell rang, the cue for people around him to pack up and leave the room.

He slammed his yellow note book shut and shoved it, and his pencil, into his backpack, before running out of the classroom to meet up with the other losers.

He sprinted down the hallways, bumping into several people and nearly tripping twice, before he reached the door. He swung the door open and walked to the bike rack around the side of the school.

“Hey Eddie,” Ben called to him as he walked over.

“Hey guys,” Eddie took in the positions of his friends. Mike was sat on the ground, fiddling with his bike, it kept breaking. Ben was sat on a bench about a meter away from the bike rack, a book resting open on his lap. Beverly was sitting on her bike seat, hands already gripping the handlebars as if she was in a hurry to go. Bill and Stan were stood next to each other, however, Eddie noticed, much too close to be considered normal. And Richie, well, he was being his usual self. He was hung upside down on one the metal bannister of a nearby stair case, dark hair brushing the ground.

“Eds! You finally arrived!” Richie near shouted bouncing his way back over to the group. “Can we go now?”

The losers collectively rolled their eyes and grabbed their bikes, climbing on and cycling towards the woods.

Their was a field there that they had claimed as their new hangout. It was completely secluded and surrounded by trees. In the spring, the ground was covered in daisies, Richie loved it, and prided himself on making “the best daisy chains in Derry”. In the Summer and Autumn, the grass was green and soft. And in the Winter, the Loser’s decided to just hand out at each other’s houses instead, with the careful avoidance of the Tozier, Marsh and Kaspbrak residences.

They were all laying on the grass. Beverly had her head resting on Ben’s lap as he sat cross legged playing with her hair. Stan and Bill were laying shoulder to shoulder, Mike was spread out like a starfish, and Richie was resting his head on Eddie’s stomach.

They were peaceful.

“Richie, I couldn’t help but to notice that you were in my French class this morning.” Bev spoke up, breaking the silence.

She knew there had to be a reason behind his sudden appearance in the class. She knew that she took it so that one day, when she was old enough, she could move to France and never look back. She knew that Stan’s parents wanted him to focus more on his religion. She knew that Ben was already fluent in the language and didn’t need to take a class. She knew that Bill found it too hard because of his stutter. She knew that Mike and Eddie simply didn’t want to take the subject, seeing no reason for it.

So what was Richie’s reason?

“You take French?” Eddie chuckled, sitting up. “Since when?”

“Well, obviously since this morning dipshit. I already know how to say some stuff. Such as,” Richie cleared his throat. “Ta mère aime ça dans le cul.”

Bev’s head shot up. “Beep Beep Richie.”

“W-what did he say?” Bill asked.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” Bev whined. The rest of the group, bar Richie and Ben, nodded. She sighed. “He said “your mother likes it up the ass.”

Groans of “Richie”, and “really?” We passed around as Richie smirked.

“Hey Rich? Do you know anything that’s not rude?” Eddie asked.

“Umm yeah,” Richie replied. “Eddie, tu as de beaux yeux.” (You have beautiful eyes)

“What does that mean?”

“Ahh, my dear Eddie Spaghetti, that is a secret.”

“Don’t call me that. Bev? Can you tell me what he said?” Eddie asked Beverly, who was staring at Richie with a strange look on her face. She stared for a few more moments before turning to Eddie.

“Sorry Eddie, I don’t know what he said.”

————

The next morning Richie bounced into school with too much energy for 7am on a Tuesday.

“Good morning, mes petits choux.” He smiled, leaning his chin on Eddie’s head.

“Richie, if I may ask, why did you just call us ‘your little cabbages’?” Ben questioned.

“I did it because I felt like it.” Just then the bell rang for class.

“Um, Richie? Can I talk you you for a sec? In private?” Beverly asked. Richie nodded, he loved the girl like family, they both dealt with similar issues in their home lives. “Do you like Eddie? You know, as in like him?”

Richie blushed. “No, where did you get that idea?”

“You’re always hugging him, you never stop staring at him, and yesterday you told him, in French, that he had beautiful eyes.”

“You said you didn’t understand what I said!”

“Well I lied, I guessed that you didn’t really want me to tell him, otherwise you would have simply said it in English.” She sighed. “Richie, what’s the real reason you started taking French class? You know I’m not going to judge you.”

Richie sighed. “I’ve been dealing with so much at home and then I come to school and he,” Richie leant back against the wall. “He makes me feel safe, and, I dunno, loved I guess? I just wanted a way to tell him how I feel and explain what’s happening at home. But it was way too painful to say it all in English, so I thought it’d be easier to tell him in another language.”

“Oh, Richie.” Beverly wrapped him in a hug. “That’s so sweet.” Richie gave her a half smile, and they began walking to their first class, which happened to be French.

———-

Eddie was just dozing off when he hears the taps at his window. At first he was scared that it was a leper, or a murderer, but he was assured it wasn’t when someone spoke up from behind the glass and curtains.

“Eddie? You awake?” Eddie pushed he covers off and got out of bed, he walked over to the window and opened the curtains.

The person at his window was Richie.

“C-can I come in?” Eddie could see the tears making their way steadily down Richie’s cheeks. He pushed the window open as quietly as he could and Richie clambered in.

“Rich, are you okay? What happened?” Instead of the answer Eddie knew he wasn’t going to get, Richie clutched him in a hug, openly sobbing.

Eddie guided Richie over to his bed and lates him down so that Richie’s head was resting above his heart. He never got answers, but he knew how to calm his best friend down. He liked listening to Eddie’s heartbeat, to confirm he wasn’t alone, and he like it when Eddie ran his fingers through his hair.

That’s exactly what Eddie was doing when Richie stopped crying and mumbled something.

“I’m sorry? I didn’t catch that.”

“Je t'aime. S’il te plaît, ne me quitte jamais.” (I love you. Please never leave me.)

Richie fell asleep soon after that, Eddie had no idea what the sleeping boy had said to him.

Over the next few months, Richie refused to stop talking in French whilst around Eddie. Beverly noticed he would constantly be blushing whenever Richie spoke the foreign words, in a thick accent. All of the Losers agreed that it was The only good impression Richie Tozier had ever done. During these months, Bev had to put up with Richie’s constant pining for Eddie.

She would always catch him calling Eddie a ‘magnifique petit tournesol’ (gorgeous little sunflower) or telling Eddie that he ‘avait l'air si mignon dans ce pull’ (looked so cute in that sweater’. He even said ‘Mon Amour.’ (My love) a few times

She was fed up of it. She knew without a doubt that Eddie had the same feelings towards Richie. So, during their 5th period geography class, Bev gave Richie a stern talking to.

“You need to tell him.”

“What?”

“Eddie! You need to tell him how you feel! I’m like 99% sure he reciprocates your feelings.”

“Yes Bev, but what about the 1% hmm?” Beverly rolled her eyes, they spent the rest of the lesson in silence.

A few weeks passed and Richie and Eddie found themselves alone at Loser’s Meadow, as the gang had dubbed it, watching the sun set.

“Eddie, I’m about to ramble in French and you just need to listen, you don’t need to understand.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Oh, okay.” He secretly loved it when Richie spoke French, however, he’d never admit it.

“Vous ne comprenez pas un mot que je dis en ce moment, et honnêtement? Je pense que c'est une bonne chose.

(You don’t understand a word im saying right now, and honestly? I think thats a good thing.)

J'avais besoin d'un moyen de pouvoir te dire ce que je ressens sans que tu me détestes.

(I needed a way to be able to tell you how i feel without you hating me.)

Parce que je sais que tu ne m'aimes pas en retour. Qui pourrait m'aimer de retour? Je suis un morceau de merde sans valeur.

(Because I know you don’t love me back. Who could love me back? I’m a worthless piece of shit.)

Vous voyez, vous n'avez absolument aucune idée de ce que je dis. En ce moment, tes joues sont d'un rouge vif avec combien tu rougis, et ton sourire n'a jamais été aussi beau.

(See, you have absolutely no idea what I’m saying. Right now, your cheeks are bright red with how much you’re blushing, and your smile has never been more beautiful.)

Tant que je continue à sourire et à parler, ce regard restera sur votre visage. Je ne veux jamais que tu arrêtes de sourire.

(As long as I keep smiling and talking, that look will stay on your face. I never want you to stop smiling.)

Ok, maintenant pour la vraie merde.

(Okay, now for the real shit.)

Eddie Kaspbrak, je t'aime depuis que nous avons neuf ans. Vous avez toujours été mon refuge, pour les nuits où il n'est pas sûr de rentrer à la maison, ou j'en ai fini avec le monde.

(Eddie Kaspbrak, I have loved you since we were 9 years old. You have always been my safe haven, for nights when it isn’t safe to go home, or I’m just done with the world.)

Vous êtes la seule personne à qui je fais confiance. Sauf ça. C'est la seule chose que vous ne saurez jamais, parce que je sais que vous ne ressentirez jamais la même chose.

(You are the one person I trust everything to. Except this. This is the one thing that you’ll never know, because I know you’ll never feel the same.)

Je t'aime Eddie Kaspbrak, je t'aime.

(I love you Eddie Kaspbrak, I love you.)”

Eddie giggled. “What the hell did you just say?”

“Oh, um, just a very detailed description of your mom’s vagina. I can retell it in English if you’d like?”

“Beep beep Richie.” Eddie said whilst laughing, as Richie sat admiring him, a wistful expression on his face.

A few days later saw Richie climbing into Eddie’s window at 3am with a bust lip and a black eye and tears streaming down his cheeks.

Without having to ask, Eddie pulled him into his bed and wrapped his arms around the crying boy. Richie wouldn’t stop muttering something in French until he fell asleep.

“Je t'aime.” Eddie made himself a promise that he’d look those words up as soon as the library was open tomorrow.

As soon as Richie left the next morning, Eddie pulled on a Red sweatshirt, one of Richie’s that he’d left behind years ago, and some shorts. He ran out of the house, making sure to kiss his mother goodbye before he left, and raced to the library.

He walked in and asked the receptionist to point him towards the ‘languages’ section.

He grabbed himself the first French dictionary he could find and flipped straight to the ‘T’ chapter, he already knew that ‘Je’ mean ‘I’.

Eddie gasped when he read the meaning. He dropped the book, causing a loud thud, and ran straight for the exit. He clambered back onto his bike and sped down the streets. He knew where Richie would be. The out of use highway bridge. He would always go there on a Saturday to smoke, listen to The Smiths and get away from his Parents.

Eddie threw his bike down as soon as he arrived, taking a puff from his asthma inhaler. “Richie?” He called out.

“Eddie?” He looked up to see Richie sat on the bridge’s ledge, feet swinging backwards and forwards. Eddie began to run up the hill towards the dark haired boy, whilst said boy stumbled down towards him. They met halfway.

“Eds, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be babysitting your mother or something.”

“Je t'aime aussi.” Eddie stated, not even bothering to tell Richie off for calling him Eds.

“What?” Richie looked unsure of what he’d just heard.

“Je t’aime aussi.” Eddie took a breath. “I love you too.”

Richie wasted no time in pulling Eddie in by his waist, connecting their lips. Eddie fisted his hands in the collar of Richie’s shirt. They pulled away a few moments later, in need of air, and rested their foreheads together.

This felt right. This felt like home.

[aleapoffaithfiction]

III.

"But the second she opened her eyes and looked at me, I knew. She was  either going to be the death of me . . . or she was going to be the one  who finally brought me back to life."    ― Colleen Hoover

“Aye.”

The lids of my eyes slightly closed at the call for my attention and yet my eyes never peered away from the television screen as it illuminated the living room far more than the sunlight slightly peering beyond the curtains covering the windows. While slightly shifting to further my comfort, I leaned forward to adjust the bag filled with ice covering my ankle and lightly ran my hand over Mowgli’s head before leaving him to lazily lie beside me as he always does whenever I’m lounging around somewhere downstairs. Much like our usual unhealthy evening routine, while he lay there in solace, I popped a couple of Gushers into my mouth and cured my typical candy craving.

“Aye.”

“What?” My mumbled response surely wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear but it’s whatever.

In the midst of the three men on the screen is by far the most intriguing being walking the planet. I can easily admit that I have not been everywhere nor have I experienced every good thing that this planet has to offer but I’m willing to bet on everything I know and have that I’m accurate in what I believe and have observed ever since I laid my eyes on her. A small smirk tugged along my lips as her eyes lit up and a fit of giggles erupted from her petite frame as Chad Johnson randomly tossed in his own hot take about why Lebron should have never left Miami, Chad’s native. They’ve been debating back and forth for over ten minutes about the ongoing James versus Irving tension that has lit the NBA and media worlds on fire.

On one end of the panel you have Kobe advocating for the hunger of leadership and the ability to withdraw from the immense shadow of the well-known king and then there’s Chad is who is standing with Lebron and deeming Kyrie’s antics to be a cry for attention that he may regret later on down the line. To the left of Sarai, there’s Scott, a heavy Lebron critic who will find any reason to rip the man to shreds, and today is certainly no different. He’s already assured in Kyrie winning a championship in Boston before Lebron wins another without him in Cleveland, which is a trash ass perspective because when it’s all said and done, Lebron is still Lebron. Sarai, per her usual, kept a balanced stance about the entire situation. Much like myself, she could see both sides of the issues between the men and thought it was best that the two did part ways despite the magic of the 2016 NBA Finals.

I’ve been tuning into the show since its beginning. I found out about it while skimming through my Twitter timeline and was instantly sold as soon as I read both Kobe and Chad’s names. As for Sarai, I’d only seen her name at the end of a couple of Sports Illustrated articles and though I didn’t physically see her, I know she was around when I shot for the ESPN Body Issue because I heard her name being mentioned throughout the hallways. It wasn’t until the first day of the show that I was able to put a face to the name that I hadn’t forgotten for whatever reason and within that very moment it felt like all of my organs halted their functioning for just a brief second. I stopped talking, stopped moving, and finally stopped breathing.

As she sat there with her back pressed against the upper portion of the chair, her fingers nervously toyed with the pen resting on top of the paper filled with the discussion topics for their first episode. Along her lips was a nervous smile and her eyes panned back and forth in a manner that could easily inform the viewers of just how overwhelmed she was. It didn’t seem to be the presence of men that overpowered and mentally belittled her, but instead the stature of the men who surrounded her. Despite being quite established in journalism, she was sitting among a five-time NBA champion, a six-time Pro Bowl and three-time First Team appearing NFL player, and a Harvard Graduate School journalist who came over to ESPN from Fox Sports. I’m sure she was wondering how would she ever be able to compete with that and just as I expected, it only took her a few days to figure it out; three days to be exact. By Thursday, she was on fire with every single perspective she brought to the table and had no issue going toe to toe with whoever challenged her. Most would say it wasn’t until she spoke up for me that she became the commodity on the show, but I beg to differ. She’d already taken that title by their second week running.

“Tud!”

Her poise is so alluring and she has this infectious giggle that instantly weakens your knees upon hearing it. I’m not sure what kind of skin care routine it takes in order for her milk chocolate skin to illuminate in the manner that it does, but I have to assume that it has to be God given rather than something that anyone has bottled up to be sold on shelves. I’ve encountered more women that I can count in passing and sometimes through simple introductions or interactions and none of them have come close to what I make sure I am able to see Monday through Friday whether I’m at home to watch it or not. Beautiful is too simple to describe her appearance. Intoxicating is beneath all that her aura is. I’ve never been so in awe at any point of my life thus far. I’ve never felt so small, so unworthy.

“Tud!”

“What?” My head finally snapped in the direction of Ben’s voice and he instantly sucked his teeth as he stood in the entry way of the living room.

“I been calling your deaf ass for twenty minutes and now I realize you ain’t been answering me because you deaf. You been mute as fuck because you’re in here about to fuck up your shorts over Sarai.”

“Shut the fuck up. Why you so loud anyway?”

“Because I been calling yo ass for twenty minutes. You staying here? Me and Kav about to head out and fuck the city up. We gon’ find somewhere to eat and then probably hit up that Future party at 1Oak. Get off the couch and come on.” As good as it sounds, I’m not in much of a partying mood and the last thing I need is to be photographed inside of a club after having sat out in our first game of the season against the Cowboys due to my ankle fucking with me from a slight injury during the preseason and then Monday night’s struggle and loss against the Lions. Even with my limited playing time and Engram’s momentum, our offensive line just couldn’t hold tight against their defense and an 88-yard punt return touchdown eventually sealed that loss for us. I’m not stressing about being down two games because we’ve been here before, but we definitely need to make some transitions and really get things going. I think we’ll be ready for Philly come Sunday.

“Nah, ya’ll got it. I’ll be alright right here. I’ma just chill with the dogs, watch a movie probably, and get momma to make some turkey chili.”

“You sound like an old ass man right now. Who the fuck sits on the couch with their dogs and eats turkey chili on a Friday? You depressed? I know yo ankle ain’t hurting that damn bad. You was on fire at rehab today.”

“I just feel like chilling, honestly.”

“Or you just feel like watching The Sports Haven, because you damn sure ain’t putting on no movie. She doesn’t want you dawg.” Ben’s laughter caused Mowgli to lift his head and the both of us stared at him as he amused himself.

“Who said that I want her?”

“Oh, you don’t have to say it nigga. We know. Everybody knows. The day you did the interview, all people could talk about is the way you were looking at her. You had dudes feeling some type of way because they swear they have claim on that lady and then you had chicks shocked as fuck because they swear you only dip in the snow. You ain’t the first one though. The way ya’ll balling ass niggas drool over her has become a running joke and now you’re officially apart of that collage of videos they put together of it. I was laughing at that shit the other day. I meant to send it to you.” He didn’t have to send it to me because I’ve already seen it. I’ve seen it a couple of times before I was included in it and it absolutely does contain footage of athletes from a bunch of different sports ogling, damn near drooling, and fumbling over their words while speaking with her or sitting up there at that panel. What makes it hilarious isn’t them, it’s her. All of it goes right over her head. I’ve yet to see her flinch or even slightly entertain any of it.

“You stay over exaggerating shit.”

“I ain’t over exaggerating a motherfucking thing. Ain’t she fucking with Big Sean?” No. I asked him while out in L.A. two months ago. A photograph of the two of them at a party began circulating the internet and rumors immediately followed and though the both of them denied any connection through tweets, I still asked him during a casual conversation. I had to know. He didn’t deny that he tried to shoot his shot, but it was an air ball. She laughed off his flirtation and instantly acquaintance zoned him.

“Nah.”

“How you know?”

“I asked him.” I could have lied to get him off of my back, but for what?

“Look at you snooping around in her business. Why you trying to scare niggas off? That’s not yo girl. You trying to block every shot that’s coming her way meanwhile you don’t even have her number. You a fucking fool.” Now that? I’m not confirming it. I’ll never hear the end of it if I mention anything about her number being in my phone. I’m sure it could earn me some points with my boys but I’m not seeking that kind of validation and besides, I finessed the whole situation. It’s not like I flat out asked for it, so those points would be in the negatives.

“I'm not trying to block shit.”

“You are though, but it’s cool. When she rejects yo ass, you’ll finally get it. How you know she ain’t married? Sean might not be her man but somebody else may be occupying that spot and you trying to plot on a happy home. She looks like the married type too. She probably married to some rich ass white dude with her bougie ass. You see the way Scott’s Squidward in the face looking ass be looking at her?”

“She never wears a ring on her finger.” I observed that a long time ago. “And you don’t even know her so how are you calling her bougie? You speaking on some shit that you don’t know about.”

“Aight nigga. I’ma leave you alone with that situation. You ain’t getting her so you better scroll through those hundreds of numbers you have and call up one of your typical flavors of the week or month. You don’t even commit and yet you trying to add Sarai Nazaire to your roller deck of women. You a dog fam.”

If we were talking about anybody else, I would have laughed that off and shrugged at the partial truthfulness. I’ve been in a few relationships and I sometime handle urges in certain ways that could easily depict me as the embodiment of a fuck boy, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s who I am. It’s not. Ever since my LSU days, my pop would always tell me to just live my life and not to commit myself to anything other than football and the books because life would be easier that way. I’ve lived in-between trying to gain some perspective and experience and living that lifestyle ever since. It’s no secret that my profession comes with women consistently flocking in my direction, willing to do whatever is necessary for the sake of some type of time with me.

Temptation is a bitch and she’s gotten the best of me on numerous occasions. I can’t say that I’m proud of it but I’ve never felt the need to kick myself in the ass over it either. Surprisingly, neither has my mother. Despite my vague responses when she asks about my behavior with women, she knows what’s going down and never fails to secretly store boxes of condoms in my bedroom drawers and bags whenever I’m traveling out of town. Then there are the talks when she warns me that though it is known for women to be swept off of their feet, there will eventually come a time when a woman will do the same exact thing to me. It’ll be mutual and despite any resistance, I won’t be able to escape the feeling. What’s for me will be for me and love will fall right in line with that, so she claims. I laughed it off all throughout my teen years but as I’m reaching my mid-twenties, there seems to be a truth to it.

“Are you done? Can I get back to the show now?”

“Been done. I’ll be back and I’m sure you’ll be right here on the couch, rewinding this shit back when I do get here.”

“Fuck you.”

His obnoxious laughter filled the halls as he trekked through them and I pressed play on the episode once again. I hadn’t expected the segment to transition to me but it did. Everyone’s been discussing what I’d be contributing to my team this year since I’m so “injury prone”. My rookie year, I missed the entire preseason and the first couple of games of the regular season with hamstring issues that stemmed all the way back to a back injury at LSU. From there, I’ve had some issues on and off with it but nothing too major. The ankle situation I’m going through right now is minor. I’m not necessarily one hundred percent, but I’m solid enough to play.

Surprisingly, no one had much criticism about any of it other than Scott. He questioned the Giants’ offensive dependency on me and made an argument that they needed to draft someone to supposedly pick up my slack, but that was interjected by Sarai who bluntly told him that players get injured, it’s all a part of the game. Yet again, my stats were her focal point and as she’s been emphasizing, when I’m on the field the energy and the numbers reflect that and when I’m not, the team greatly suffers. What was left in question for her was the severity of what this slight injury is. She claimed to have watched my postgame interview after our loss to the Lions and hoped that I hadn’t downplayed anything simply so I’d be able to play.

“Scott, you’re not making any sense. The man is the first player in NFL history with eighty or more catches and a thousand or more receiving yards in each of his first three NFL seasons. When he is on and off the field, it’s felt by the team and their spectators. We all know this.” Her smirk filled my core with faint fluttering. Shit.

I’m alright. The sprain is in much better shape now. The training staff wanted me to give it some more time, so I sat out the first game. The Lions game could have been better, but I still felt solid enough. I’m good for Sunday though.

A number of reporters have my direct number in case they want to verify information or may want a quote about a specific story that’s circulating about me. If Sarai wants, she could do the same as well. I don’t have much of an issue allowing her to know whatever it is that she needs to know.

Maybe it’s just me but I still find that by low hit by Boddy-Calhoun super dirty. I’m glad to hear you’re feeling alright.

A lot of people feel the way she does. I watched the replay and I can’t call it. It was a tough play for a defensive back and I’ll just leave it at that. While it did piss me off within those few seconds after the fact, I left the anger right there on the field.

Lol It’s all good. Am I seeing you Sunday?

This is the first time I’ve been anxious for someone to see me play in person since my family, when I suited up to play in my first official Giants game. Though I won’t actually see her watching everything, just knowing that she’s within the stadium experiencing the excitement of the game amongst the wild fans will easily put a smile on my face. I’d like for her to be able to see that I want to live up to every moment when she’s spoken highly of me.

I’m going to try to make it.

Try? That’s a less than fifty percent chance that she’s coming.

Try sounds like you won’t come. I’m sulking now.

Is it weird that I actually am? I’m sure the disappointment the day off will feel worse if I don’t see her face.

Lol you’re funny Beckham. At least I said I’d try rather than flat out saying that I won’t.

I’m persistent. I hate maybes or possibilities. I’m all about making shit happen.

Or you can say that you will. That ticket comes with a pass for one of the luxury suites in the stadium, so you have the option of being out there in the mist of the madness or being tucked away from it. You have a VIP parking pass too, so there’s no need to go insane looking for parking. There’ll be appetizers, snacks, and drinks too.

I had to pull a lot of finesse for that. Tickets to the game aren’t difficult to get but VIP perks in another team’s home stadium isn’t easy to come by. It’s always helpful to know people who knows people and so on. I just want to make sure she’s comfortable.

You’re really selling it. It all sounds pretty convincing though. You know, I easily could have shown up with a media pass.

She could have. Her ESPN credentials most likely work all over the place.

True, but then you wouldn’t be my guest of honor and I’d prefer it that way instead. It’s the least I could do after all that you’ve done for me.

With her love of sports, I figured she’d prefer that over some flowers of thanks that’ll eventually die or some materialistic possession that may lose value within her life at some point. There’s nothing wrong with flowers, I’d send them in a heartbeat, but memories never die. They’re the foundation to our experiences and everything that we stand for.

I’ll be there Beckham. The jersey is debatable but I’ll be there. Thank you for the invitation and all that you’ve included with it.

The bag of ice slipped onto the floor as I quickly sat up and read over her message once more. I couldn’t help but to stand up and pace the floor. Shit. Now I really have to ball out.

I’m glad to hear that and you’re welcome. See you then. 

Wait, how the fuck are we going to see one another? That’s the part that I’ve yet to figure out. I need to do that quickly.

Rest up that ankle, Beckham. Enjoy your weekend.

We’re riding by chartered bus out to Philly since it’s only about two hours out from East Rutherford and we’ll return the same way. Maybe I could invite her out to dinner after the fact? Nothing fancy, just somewhere cool. Maybe it does need to be fancy? I’m not sure if I should say date, because she’d never go out on a date with me in the first place. I can just call it us grabbing some food. Then again, I did say that there’s going to be food at the stadium so she might be full. Shit.

“O! Sweetie, are you here?”

My mother’s light voice filled the foyer as she closed the door behind herself and I could tear the tussling of bags as she further her way inside of the house. She’s now in the middle of the second week of her two weeks stay and should be heading back to Louisiana after the Eagles game. We’ve had a few conversations about both she, my step-pops, and my little sister potentially relocating up here but we’ve summed it up to it not being necessary. They visit enough and I visit home enough, so there’s no need to leave all that they know on my behalf though I’m honored that they would do it in a heartbeat. Her check ins to make sure all is running smoothly on the business side of things and that I’m physically and mentally alright are always appreciated. It’s the perfect balance of her being able to happily function within her motherhood while also allowing me to be an adult. Jazzy has school, so she couldn’t make the trip, but Thanksgiving is around the corner. I’m sure before the ending of November comes, she’ll get up here to hang out with me for a weekend.

“I am. I’m coming to help you.” I relieved her of the grocery bags that I’m sure are filled with far more healthier items that I typically ever eat. My junk cabinet is more impressive than what’s in the refrigerator. I can whip up an amazing bowl of chicken Ramen though. It’s my specialty. I even get fancy and put an egg in there from time to time. Then you throw some of that green shit on top. What is it? Basil? Cilantro? Whatever it is.

“What do you want for dinner? I figured I’d whip something up while I’m here. You’re going out right? When you get back, you’ll have something real to eat and won’t have to survive off of sour straws and Oreos.”

“Chili. You know I like it when you make it spicy too. Oh, and some cornbread with it. Can’t have chili without cornbread. I’m kicking it here by the way.”

“Chili is so much better than you saying gumbo, because Lord knows, if you did, I would have handed you a takeout menu and wished you the best.” Our laughter was nearly identical. I’m all for some southern comfort food, especially because I don’t get it much up here, but I’ll be fair. The next time she’s here, the gumbo is happening though.

“Nah, I have a taste for the chili.”

“I’ll make a big pot, that way you’ll have it to enjoy over the weekend. I’m going to make something on Sunday before heading to Philadelphia for the game. That way it’ll be out of the way and I won’t have to worry about doing anything before my flight Monday morning. I’ll make enough for you to have a decent amount of leftovers after you dig in on Sunday. How are you feeling? Are you ready?”

“I was born ready. I feel good. Rehab was good. The trainers said I’m in good shape, so I’m ready to play. You know I’ll always play and sometimes, that’s even with discomfort.”

“Which isn’t good, but I’m glad you’re feeling good now.” My mind transitioned through a thousand thoughts as my stomach did backflips in the midst of my contemplating if I should tell her about the invitation to Sarai or not. It’s not like I have much of a choice. They’re going to encounter and be near one another. I could never play it off as a mere coincidence after the fact. Shit, Ben won’t let me either way.

“I invited Sarai Nazaire to the game.” And just like that, both of her eyebrows flew up in surprise and her elbows met the surface of the island as she leaned in to get a good look at me. Her face held a mixture of amusement and warmth. The hue of her skin slightly picked up a faint pink shade once a chuckle spilled from her lips.

“Did you? So that’s why you visited her dressing room after the interview? I thought those tickets were for some sort of an ESPN fan giveaway or something of that nature.”

“No, they were for her. I figured I’d invite her simply as a thank you.”

“Is that all it is?” She folded her hands as those eyebrows flew up yet again. “Just a thank you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you so nervous? You know, I’ve been waiting for a moment like this. Ever since you were a kid, you always played it super cool when it came to the girls. Even the little girlfriends that I met here and there, you kept cool about. Sarai Nazaire? Her name rolls off of your tongue like she’s a goddess. Your eyes literally just lit up at the sound of it. Oh my God.” Her laughter intensified my nervousness and I instantly ran my hand down my face to gain some sort of control over my expressions.

“No, they didn’t.”

“Yes, they did. You have it bad, son. You have a love jones for Sarai, huh?”

“A love jones? What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not in love.”

“I never said that you were. I said a love jones. Watch the movie.” 

“I just think she’s cool momma. I can’t think that?”

“Cool? Jazzy and I think she’s cool, but you, not so much. You think she’s far more than that.”

“Are you going to tease me the entire time I’m standing here? I just wanted to let you know so it won’t be a surprise or anything. Maybe you can make sure she’s cool and stuff? You know, with the accommodations. She may bring a guest.”

“I can do that. Is there anything else you may want me to do or say?” Her mocking tone was my cue to go. She can have those moments when she says little things to playfully embarrass me but she can’t do it on Sunday. If God is on my side, she won’t do it.

“Momma.”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’ll be on my best behavior. As a reflection of my oh so amazing son, I’ll make sure your guest is well taken care of. I mean, after all, I need to make a good impression on her too since she’s going to be around.”

“Who said all of that?” See? That’s what I mean. She’s assuming.

“Your actions.”

“It’s just an invitation of thanks.”

“You already said thank you. You told her that you want to make her proud directly to her face. That’s another thank you. The jersey? A third thank you. The game? A move to begin to court her.”

“You’ll call me when the chili is ready? Cool? Aight, Cool.”

What is with mothers and the third eye situation? I’m a momma’s boy to the core. The sacrifices my mother made to make sure that I was solid in life will never go without every aspect of thanks that I can give her, but in the midst of that, we’ve become like best friends and it’s allowed her to know and be able to read me too well. I can’t slip anything past her no matter how hard I try to. She figures shit out without even being here and a phone call immediately follows; sometimes it’s a flight. Her warnings about women have never come with a leash, because she’s always told me that it’s my life to live but it doesn’t mean that she won’t inform me about whether someone is bad news for me or not. We’ve had our fair share of conversations about particular women, especially over the course of this past summer but even then, I didn’t feel so exposed as I do now. Maybe because there wasn’t anything to expose, at least not emotionally.

I chose to relax in the theater room while awaiting the chili and after scrolling through Netflix and then eventually Amazon Prime Video, I gave in to the curiosity I’d been fighting and decided to check out this Love Jones movie momma mentioned. Given that Larenz Tate and Nia Long are pure talent within their craft, I figured it couldn’t be too bad of a watch despite me not being much of a romance film guy. Putting the love, sex, and romance aspect aside, which is all throughout the film, the most interesting and relative part about the film may have to be the reality of two young people trying to figure out themselves and their journey because I, for sure, am in that place within my own life. I may have the career side of things secured, though it comes with its ups and downs, but as far as everything else? I’m just coasting, fucking up occasionally, and learning as I navigate along. There are aspects of Darius within me and every other young man out here.

“Oh, I see you decided to check it out. How are you liking it?” My attention left Nina’s poem and I shrugged.

“It’s decent.” That’s all I can give it but I’m sure women love the hell out of this film.

“Mhm. The chili’s cooking. I just popped the cornbread in the oven. When it’s ready, I’ll serve you.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person ever?”

“Only about a million times and especially when you’re trying to bribe me out of something. Enjoy your movie.”

A happy ending after a roller coaster ride of mixed emotions, complications, and setbacks. I guess it makes sense, given if it’s what you really want. If you walk away, did you really want it in the first place? That’s subjective, but in the case of Darius and Nina, the question stands. I guess their love really was “urgent as a motherfucker”.

What are you doing?

I pulled my lip in-between my teeth and internally cringed at the message I sent to Sarai. Since when are we so casual? I hate that I had to do it. I should have never watched that movie in the first place.

Her reply came my way twenty minutes later. Maybe she’s busy.

Beckham. Lol My life is not that interesting. I doubt you’d want to know.

But you’re the most intriguing human on the planet. How don’t you know it?

Try me.

Maybe she’s with her man and I’m interrupting. I pray she doesn’t say that. I’d rather not know.

In bed, watching Remember the Titans with a jar of Talenti gelato. It’s the beginning of a weekend that will consist of exactly what I’m doing. See? Uninteresting. What club are you heading to tonight? 1oak? Marquee? Lavo?

Hm. She thinks I party a lot. I can’t deny how much I hang out during the off season. L.A. is usually my playground.

Club home theater. I’m chilling with my dogs and scrolling through a couple of apps for movies or a good TV show to binge. Momma making chili for dinner. Just finished Love Jones.

Maybe I’ll check out that Game of Thrones shit that everyone loves. Actually, nah. I’m going to catch up on Power.

You? You watched Love Jones? I’m uh..shocked? lol

Shit, me too.

Momma suggested it. It was a good watch, I guess. Remember the Titans is a better one. We Are Marshall is another good football film. Check it out if you haven’t seen it. What’s your favorite Love Jones quote?

Fuck, I’m corny. I couldn’t help but to laugh at myself after asking that.

My favorite quote? Hmm. I guess it would be: “It’s funny what you can do in front of a room full of people that you can’t even seem to do in front of one person.” That one has always stuck with me. Goodnight Beckham.

I almost tossed my phone into the seat beside me but I couldn’t fight the urge yet again.

You didn’t ask for my favorite quote.

Not necessary and yet, necessary.

And that is?

Only three lines within the film really stuck with me. Out of the three, one seemed to resonate the most.

“One truism in my life, my friend, when that jones come down, it be a motherfucker.” Goodnight Sarai Nazaire.

A motherfucker for sure.

[ncstings]

spots to kiss #20: georgia & benjamin a kiss on where the back of the neck turns to shoulder.

“Did you see who they were?” She’s got a bag full of groceries under her arm as she leads out of the elevator, walking down one of their long hallways.

“Only briefly. But they were carrying things, it didn’t seem appropriate to stop them.” Benjamin says mindlessly over the phone. She caught him while he was working and he said he could talk, because how could he say no to her, but it’s clear he’s doing something on top of it.

“Shame, Ben. For shame.” She hisses. “I have to do everything myself. I’ll have to take one of the bottles from the fridge as an impromtu gift. Unless you have a fruit basket laying around.”

“I’m sorry, is that something you think people just... have?” He laughs.

“Don’t joke, you never know when you’re going to need a gift basket. Before moving in with you, I always had supplies for making a spa basket on the fly.” She looks around her, rounding another corner. “How do you think I got to be so successful.”

“I wont question your ways.”

“Oh shit---!” Georgia stops dead in her tracks, seeing a door wide open. “They’re home.” She hisses.

“Why are you acting like they’re outlaws? They’re just new neighbors. They looked perfectly approachable. A little young, but, who am I to question anything.”

“What, like, how could young people afford a place like this?” She pauses. “How young we talking?”

“I don’t question people’s income. But certainly under thirty.”

“Wow, good for them.” She stands up straight. “I should say hi, I hear music playing.”

“Why is their door open?” 

“I don’t know I haven’t talked to them yet.”

“Seems strange is all. You don’t think they’ll cause any problems do you? Have lots of parties or anything?”

“You’re the one that’s met them, Benjamin.”

He hums, then there’s a pause for a second before he finishes. “Well I should go, you go investigate and report back.”

And she did just that. Georgia hung up her call, rushed her groceries back into the apartment, and grabbed a bottle of wine from her fridge before she dipped back out into the hallway.

Music still poured from the open door. Nothing loud, and it was rather slow and sensual rhythm and blues that she couldn’t really complain about the music choice. When she neared the corner, she was shocked to find a baron apartment, with some furniture with tarp over it. There was tarp over pretty much everything in fact, and a small woman standing on a stool, painting the wall a lovely mint color.

She was petite, tan, and Georgia couldn’t see her face but from her rather toned body, she imagined her to be beautiful. He hair was tied back in a bandana and her clothes were splattered with paint.

He knuckles tapped against the door frame, gathering the woman’s attention in the large condo. When she turned, her suspicions were confirmed, she was utterly beautiful. And very young.

Benjamin refuses to question income but in a place like this, she can’t help the questions.

“Hello!” Georgia chimes. “I just wanted to come by and say hello. We’re your neighbors across the hall. I’m Georgia. My fiance Benjamin is at work but he says hello in spirit.” As she speaks, she’s watching the woman get down from her stool, and start to approach her in the doorway, wearing a smile.

“Hi,” She says, her voice light, a bit breathless, but in a way that just sounds like that’s her voice. It’s alluring, no doubt. “I’m sorry if having the door open was bothering you, I just wanted to get this place aired out with all the painting.”

“Oh no, it’s totally okay, it gave me the nudge to come by and say hello, I just got home from work early, went to the store, now I’m here, saying hello.”

The woman laughs politely and nods, then holds out a hand. “I’m Laney, My partner James lives with me but he’s out ... “She pauses, her smile looking the fondest it could. “I’m not sure, sitting at a cafe thinking something whimsical or buying furniture, who knows. He’ll be back later.”

Georgia laughs in return, taking the outstretched hand to shake. “Seems very far from my fiance. I don’t think whimsy is a concept he even comprehends, but we definitely have a friend like that.”

“Yeah, he likes his alone time though. As do I.” She smiles. “I would love to show you around the place but as you can tell, it’s really not ready.”

“Oh no, that’s totally okay. When I moved in with Benjamin I nearly redecorated the whole place. He’s a man with very good taste but you know, not my kind of taste.” She winks playfully.

Laney laughs lightly, and it sounds like clouds and sparkles and she can imagine just about anyone would fall for her. “James is a very fashionable person, though he’s been hanging around all kinds of fashionable people since he was very young.” Her eyes crinkle, and she looks behind her. “He picked out the mint, but we’re doing something a little different. Patterns and stuff.”

“Oh, that’ll be interesting.” Georgia nods. Maybe they’re a little different. She’s not getting the vibe that they’re much like the modern architects that live in the building. People her and Benjamin’s age who work downtown in the finance district. It’ll be a breath of fresh air.

She sighs, and then looks down at the bottle still in her hand. “Oh! I wanted to bring this by to you guys, a little welcoming gift. This is my favorite dessert wine, perfect for a date night.”

She watches as Laney looks at the bottle, her smile turning quaint with her lips in a thin line. For a moment, Georgia considers that she picked the wrong wine. Or maybe it was too cheap? Who knows with these guys, they might be far too out of her pricerange.

“Thanks,” She says softly, looking up to meet her eyes. “We’re actually sober, though.”

Well at least it wasn’t her. “Oh gosh, of course! You know, I was talking to Ben over the phone, told him we should keep an emergency fruit basket around. I’m sorry about that.” She tucks the bottle under her arm, then reaches out to squeeze the other’s arm gently. “You know what, why don’t you guys come over for dinner? Neither of us are that great at cooking but we can make one thing really well so our treat!” 

“That’d be nice, yeah. James and I are free tomorrow night, is that okay?” She lets out a nervous laugh, as if thankful for the interaction.

“Perfect! Just give us a knock okay?”

//--//

Georgia moves around the table to light the candles before rushing back to the kitchen, where Benjamin stands over the stove. “This has to look perfect. Something in my bones just tells me they’re way cooler than any of us and I want to impress them.” She huffs, reaching into the fridge where she’d picked up raspberry soda. Something made in Brooklyn where the guy said it was frequently sold out. “You don’t think they’re too cool for soda, do you? I told you they don’t drink but like... I don’t want to make them drink just water. Oh god, this is why we don’t make new friends. Why did I invite them over, they’ll see what big of losers we are.”

She closes the fridge and bangs her head against the aluminum, only to find a pair of arms sliding around her waist, and a pair of lips kissing the back of her neck. “You do this for a living, love, it’ll be fine.” He continues kissing her skin. “You look beautiful and it was very kind of you to invite them and I’m sure the appreciate the warm welcome.”

Georgia sighs, her head resting against the cool metal. “Tell me what a cool unstoppable sexy babe I am, please.”

“No,” He says plainly, reaching down to give her ass a squeeze. “You don’t need me inflating your ego anymore than I already do.” A final kiss to her neck and he’s back to the stove, cooking the only thing Vincent really taught them to cook. But they like it enough they make it almost once a week.

It’s not long before there’s a knock on their door and Georgia launches to answer. When she does, the door swings open and she nearly gasps.

They’re a little too good looking and she nearly falls over.

When she’d met Laney, she was dressed for painting, which was obviously not her prime. But here, dressed in a tight little crop top and shirt skirt and she looks perfect. Her hair was tied back and yet immaculate.

And then the partner in question was just as perfect. Shining seafoam eyes, covered with tattoos that could mean any number of things. Dressed in some sort of pleated high waisted pant and patterned blouse that looks far more expensive than anything in her closet, yet effortlessly cool and slick. 

“Hey!” Georgia coos, letting them both in as she tries to ground herself in what might be something completely out of her league. She’s never had to plan a wedding for two people that were so absolutely unapologetically cooler than her.

She turns around to find that Benjamin rounds the corner greet them, raising an eyebrow in her direction. It lasts only a second, before he steps forward to introduce herself, and a collection of hands are being exchanged in shaking.

Laney introduces James to her, who is polite and far too sweet to be even real. Then again, it took her over a year to come to the conclusion Vincent was real, so she should be accustomed to this.

Everyone gets situated with dinner. Georgia’s thankful when they say they love raspberry soda. Either she guessed right, or they were painfully polite. Both made her just a little bit more relaxed as they began eating their dinner.

“So where did you guys move from?” Benjamin starts with the simple questions, and she’s thankful for that too. To her, she feels she has to come up with wildly intricate questions to engage the table. She hadn’t even considered the basics.

“Los Angeles. But we both grew up in California.” James responds, poking around his plate. “This is really good, you guys are really good cooks.”

Both Georgia and Benjamin let out a full laugh, but it’s the latter to clarifies. “One of our close friends is a very good cook, he taught us to make this at one point. We like it because it’s easy and tastes good.”

“Carbonara fits that bill, yeah.” Laney nods, picking up more of her’s. “James and I tried to go on a cooking journey a while back. We needed something to do together after we hadn’t been doing anything at all...” Her nose scrunches when she looks to James, who shakes his head fondly.

“Needless to say, that was not the way we needed to bond together. We decided puzzles was a lot better.”

Georgia snorts, looking over the Benjamin. “Can you imagine us doing a puzzle together?”

“Georgia would spent thirty minutes trying to tell me a corner piece belonged in the center.” He grins. “After the first ten, she’d realize she was wrong but she wouldn’t be able to accept it so she’d just fully commit. Most likely to try and make me annoyed.”

Georgia playfully hits him with her napkin and rolls his eyes. The couple across from them laugh, and after a few seconds, she sighs. “I mean he’s not wrong, I would almost certainly do that.”

The table laughs again.

Georgia picks off a piece of her bread, adding onto her statement. “Explains a lot though, being from LA, you guys give off a very coastal cool vibe.”

“Do we?” Laney looks at James, her hand reaching over to, what Georgia presumes, squeeze his thigh. “We don’t feel very cool. In terms of Los Angeles, and where we come from, we are extremely uncool.”

James nods, sucking in his bottom lip as he moves thing around his plate, and then takes another bite.

The air’s a little stiff, so Georgia decides to move on. “So how did you guys meet?”

“Rehab.” James says after swallowing his bite.

The air gets a little more stiff. Georgia’s holding her fork in mid air and she’s not entirely sure what to do with this information. She looks to Benjamin, who’s eyes are glued to the couple, and he’s just continually nodding his head.

“I’m sorry.” Laney laughs nervously, rubbing James’ leg again. “We’re trying this thing we learned in therapy where we’re a lot more open and honest with ourselves and the people around us. Secrets and being closed off didn’t really do us any favors.”

“Okay.” Georgia nods, taking a sip of her soda. “I’m sure we could do some good with that.”

Benjamin snorts, then takes another bite of his food.

“How long have you two been together?” James changes the subject, pushing a smile forward.

Georgia looks to Benjamin, eyebrow raised. “I think... less than two years? Got engaged about six months ago.”

“Congratulations.”  James nods. “Love is a beautiful thing, and an important thing to cherrish and hold onto.”

Georgia nods, reaching out to squeeze Benjamin’s forearm. “Had some rough patches but no one puts up with me quite like this guy.”

He pats her hand before she pulls it away, and the two look to the young couple to find them soft-eyed, looking at them with adoration. “That’s lovely.” Laney says softly.

“We had our own, too.” James says, looking over at Laney. “Though who’s surprised when you come to meet the love of your life while you’re both trying to get clean.” He huffs in amusement, then looks back to the others. “We do a lot of therapy now. We’re kind of at the point where we’re not interested in things failing again, and we want to put in the work. It’s taken a lot of time but it’s good.”

“That’s so nice.” Georgia feels herself sighing, unable to help getting wrapped up in their romance. “And you guys decided to move to the East Coast?”

“Yeah,” Laney adjusts in her seat. “Just needed to get Los Angeles off of us. All the bad reminders and the enablers. Plus, my work is easier to do here, and James is kind of between things now.” She looks to her partner, who nods.

“Oh, what do you guys do?” She’s itching to know, considering how tastefully expensive they both look.

“Laney is the most talented fashion designer on earth.” James grins before she can interject.

“Oh god.” She huffs, sinking lower into her seat.

“Wait, really?” Georgia’s eyes beam.

“Now you’ve done it.” Benjamin shakes his head, digging deeper into his plate.

“Like, what kind of fashion? Couture or like with a store or what?”

Laney shrugs. “I got to show my stuff in Fashion Week for the first time last year but that’s only after James wore my suit to his red carpet.”

Georgia’s eyes gape, and she leans back in her chair, bringing a hand to brush back her hair. “Whoa, hold on a minute, who the fuck are you guys?” She doesn’t mean it to sound so brash, but now there’s mentions of a red carpet and she might faint.

“James makes movies.” Laney says simply.

She looks to see that James’ cheeks are pink, and he’s looking down, “I wrote And End a long time ago, I was a script doctor for a while. Couldn’t really make anything good because I was too busy snorting cocaine. Uhm... and then two years ago I wrote and directed and produced Over Sunset Drive.”

The room is quiet. Georgia slowly looks to Benjamin, whose face has now gone pale. He’s got a single spaghetti noodle hanging from his lip and it takes him a second to realize it before he chews and swallows his bite. 

“He makes me watch And End all the time.”  Georgia points to Benjamin, then looks back to James. “You wrote that?”

“At nineteen, yes.”

“What?” Both Benjamin and Georgia say in unison.

“I am thoroughly impressed.” Benjamin adds. “I don’t want to act inappropriately, but I loved both of those films.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. It’s no inappropriate, you guys have pretty reasonable reactions. It’s always weird to bring it up. But it’s even weird to not bring it up and then have that come up way down the line.”

“So you’re not going to make any more movies?” Georgia frowns.

“That’s a bold thing to say. I’m not so sure. I write a lot of poetry. Sometimes Laney tells me I should publish all the love notes I write I quite like them being just for her. But I have a lot of personal stuff that could get published. I also like to paint. I’m fortunate enough that I can spend some time, figure it out. I also just want to support Laney on the direction her career has taken.”

“God that’s so sweet.” Georgia pouts. “You two are so adorable, you have to be our friends.”

The couple laugh, and look between each other. “We don’t really have much for friends here since moving, so we can’t really turn that down.”

“You guys would love Maggie and Vinnie, they’re the most sickeningly sweet disgusting couple there ever was.” Georgia leans forward. “And they’re out best friends.”

“That’ll be fun. People used to call us gross.” James laughs.

“Yeah I’d like to see you guys try and compare to them. Though who knows, they could use actual good competition.” Ben adds in.

“You know what though, I know for a fact Zebby is in all the cool New York circles. If you want the art circle, I’ll get you her number too.” Georgia wags a fork at them. “She’s also probably closer to your age.”

“Oh, really, you guys don’t have to do that. We appreciate your warm welcome as it is.”

“No no, Georgia wont stop with this until you have too many friends you don’t know what to do with.” Benjamin looks over to them with an annoyed look, which only lasts seconds until he looks back over to her, sees her with her phone out, and shakes his head with an endearing smile. “Love, why don’t we do dessert, we can do that later.” His hand reaches out, slowly taking the phone form their hand so they can continue their evening.

[authoressskr]

Misery Business

Pairing: Dean x Reader  ++  Warnings: Language, Mentions of cheating, Lisa Braden (Does that count?)  ++  Word Count: 1712

This was written for @idreamofhazel Hazel’s Throwback Challenge. My given song was: Misery Business by Paramore.

Note: Do NOT repost, copy and paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION. -+- REBLOGGING is fine! -+-

A/N: I rewrote this twice. This is the version that sucked less. Enjoy! 

When she’d left home for college on the west coast, she had kissed him in the airport, stunning not only himself but their combined families.

“Couldn’t leave without doing that.” Her smile was infectious - making a slow, wide one creep onto his face to mirror hers before his big hands came up to cup her face and pull her into a deeper kiss, ignoring the loud coughing of her dad at this development.

“That’s how you kiss someone goodbye, kiddo.”

“Noted.” Licking her lips, her eyes shifted over to Sam with a promising smirk. “Wanna say goodbye to me too Sam?” Dean’s lips were on her again, firm and chaste as his arms pulled her tight against him.

“Don’t even think about it, Sammy,” Dean muttered afterward, Sam rolling his eyes as Dean released her - watching her hug his parents and then her own as she fought back tears.

“I’ll see you guys at Christmas for sure.” She promised before handing her ticket to the clerk and with a short wave, boarded the plane and flew off to her new adventure.

---

When she’d come home for Christmas, her bright eyes landing on him as Dean entered the house for dinner that night - having been dreaming of coming back and falling into his arms - was suddenly dashed as he tugged a petite brunette into the house behind him. His eyes had dropped when they’d met your own, slightly ashamed. Turning promptly around and heading back into the safety of the kitchen, you ignore your mother’s questioning looks, simply pointing to the living room as you tug on your snow boots and then grab your heavy jacket, fighting back tears once more.

“When I thought he was mine, she caught him by the mouth.” You mutter to yourself, heading towards your best friend’s house as the tears finally slipped down your cheeks.

---

She’d gone without saying goodbye.

Hadn’t even answered his texts or calls.

He didn’t mean to...Lisa just came into the shop one day. And the one night stand turned into a few times a week sex and then into something else.

Sex with Lisa was good. Really good. But, Jesus, dealing with Lisa had been an experience. Dean couldn’t blame her for liking the nicer things. He liked nice things too, but, the shit she was always pointing out constantly - Dean couldn’t even hope to afford at this point in his life. A few weeks later, she suddenly wants him to move in with her and her five-year-old son, Ben. They’d compromised by him spending Friday through Monday at her condo, which was nice at first.

Everything was nice at first.

Then it evolved into subtly dropped hints that her grandfather’s factory needed some help. And “Besides, you don’t want to work as a mechanic forever, Dean,” mentioned a few times.

That morphed into “Granddaddy said he’d be willing to bump you straight to a supervisor since you’re taking care of his baby and Ben.” Three months later: “I don’t see why you won’t take it, Dean. It’s more than generous. Being a mechanic will never pay you as well as this will” and finally to “You’ve only been staying with me because you got attached to BEN?! I can’t believe you, Winchester! I am NOT money hungry! I want a lifestyle, Dean. One you’ll never man up and provide me and Ben with. Get your shit and get out, please.”

Pretty fucking harsh words from a woman who cheated on him...

---

When his kiddo finally came back home again, she’d granted him one wary look at the airport arrival gates before dropping her worn, purple carry-on and wrapping her mom in a crushing hug. Dean could hear her say how much she missed home and them as she reached out to repeat the process with her dad. Giving everyone else a bright, but slightly watery smile, she linked arms with her mom as they all left shuffled out of the airport.

After they’d all eaten lunch, she’d gone upstairs to take a short nap - hoping to help rid her body a little of the Dramamine she’d needed to down to combat the motion sickness. When his sharp ears had heard her moving around upstairs, he headed up. Pausing a second to take a deep breath, Dean knocked on her bedroom door.

“Got a minute, kiddo?”

“Sure.” Her body language said she clearly didn’t want to speak with him, but Dean wanted - no, needed - to lay everything out for her. Best to start simple though...

“How was school?”

“Fine. I took an extra class and it kicked my ass.”

“Don’t overdo it, princess.” Dean shook his head with a wry smile. “And don’t try to compete with Sam. Dude was born an overachiever.” Okay, she’s smiling - now or never. “I, uh, I broke it off with Lisa.” She just raised an eyebrow before looking down, fiddling with the throw tossed over her legs.

“I can’t lie to save my life Dean, you know that.” Nodding, even though she isn’t looking, trying to guess at what she was going to say next as he attempts to calm the sudden rapid beating of his heart. “You’re the only one for me.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” Lunging forward, hands pulling her as close as possible while lips molded to lips. “Same, kiddo, same.” Dean smiled, stupidly happy at the best outcome he could’ve hoped for.

---

You’d transferred schools after that, deciding that the University of Kansas, Lawrence was just as good - grumbling in defeat that yes, your father had been right. Yes, dad, it was easier to be at home. Yes, dad, I should have listened to you initially. And cue good-natured eye roll.

When you’d been in Oregon, you had kept mostly to yourself. Your days consisted of going to your classes, going to the library and then going to your dorm room. Which was usually empty due to your hippie-light roommate, Paisley, crashing at her brother’s apartment nearly every evening. However, being that alone had made your homesickness at least double, so transferring had been an easy decision. Did dating Dean significantly added to the ease of that choice? Yes.

You had waited until your semester was up to switch schools, which had been a long three months. And to celebrate getting everything signed over, you were having lunch with Dean at Lafitte’s Bar and Grill, close to his dad’s mechanic shop. After you two ordered, you saw Charlie - part-time bartender and lifelong friend - behind the bar, excusing yourself to chat with her until the food arrived.

That’s when Lisa sauntered in, her eyes almost immediately landed on Dean, raking over the snug heather gray shirt (the one you’d bought him) that fit oh-so-nicely. You were leaning against the bar when she’s nodded her bright red-head towards where Dean sat. Quirking your head to one side before turning your eyes widen to a near-comical level. Well damn, you had to give Lisa one thing - she had balls to chat up the very loving, very loyal man whom she cheated on.

“Long time, no see,” She cooed behind him, placing a tanned hand on his strong shoulder as he turned, his food-lust-filled gaze at the arrival of his burger snapped quickly to tight and uneasy.

“Lisa! Uh, yeah. Long time.”

“You know, Dean, I’ve missed you.” Oh, you bet your sweet ass she did. You thought as you pushed away from the bar and eased up behind her.

“I’m seeing someone.” Dean shuts her down, giving the burger that’d just been placed before him a long look at it that made you smile.

“We don’t even deserve a second chance?” Dean’s mouth opens, but he doesn’t get the chance to answer.

“Second chances they don't ever matter, people never change. Once a whore, you're nothing more, I'm sorry that'll never change.” She whipped around to face you, her three necklaces tangling in her hair as her eyes burned into your furiously.

“What did you say to me?!”

“Well, there's a million other girls who do it just like you, you know? Looking as innocent as possible to get to who they want and what they like. But you fucked up and suck your fingers in too many pies, Lisa. You had Dean Winchester, a grumpy teddy bear of a man whose loyalty knows no bounds, and you decided that wasn’t enough?”

“You know what, little girl? You’re a class A bitch!”

“But God, does it feel so good!” You call after Lisa as she storms out, sitting down across from Dean with the smuggest of smug grins on tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Benny!” Dean calls over his shoulder. “Box!”

“What are you doing?”

“You verbally handed Lisa her ass. I’m taking you home to fuck you senseless for everything you just said.” Benny appears from the kitchen, tossing Dean a box with a shake of his head and a deep chuckle. “Don’t drop this.” Dean shoves the box into your hands as you wrinkle your forehead. Why would he want you to - oof! He tossed you over his shoulder, earning a startled cry and then an eye roll as he waved to Benny and Charlie. “Add it to my tab!”

He sets you down more gently in the passenger seat of his ‘67 Impala than you thought he would, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before closing the door with a crooked smile gracing his handsome face. Once he’s slid in, the key in the ignition, he stops to look over at you with all the adoration and love you’d glimpsed a handful of times before.

“What?” Your voice is soft, searching his face for some hint.

“You. You make all my wildest dreams come true.”

“I never meant to brag, buuuuuut - ya know - I am the complete package.” You slide over until you’re pressed firmly against his warm side, his emerald eyes are so bright and, at the same time, so soft as they lock with your own. “Wanna go make some more of your wildest dreams come true?”

“Fuck yeah, baby.” He manages to get out prior to your lips meeting for a quick, hot kiss - the car rumbling to life before he pointed her towards his apartment.

Tagging: @lucis-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @idreamofhazel