#she would probably be good for ben- who is probably very exhausted with crowds of fans

[whatudottu]

So, what are your thoughts on the relationship of Ben and Annie? What exactly is do like about them?

I had to sit on this a bit, to think about both sides of their relationship. I ended up writing a bit so… under the cut we go!

I’d think Annie, because she was never the one to hero worship, was already pretty neutral about Ben; ‘he’s a good person for doing the things he does’ and whatever. But, with stories from the Andromeda 5, she got second hand but still personal experiences and history with Ben Tennyson (beyond snatching his sumo slammers card way back when).

I suppose that translates to something like- ‘you’re a hero AND you’re a person, who will always try to do right even if you stumble along the way’. To bring up BenLie and BenRook, it’s like the middle road between Julie’s ‘i know you as a human boy with a life on earth’ and Rook’s ‘i know you as the hero of the universe and one of everyone’ initial thoughts on Ben.

But since a relationship isn’t one sided, let’s talk about what Ben may like about Annie.

Ben - confronted with either sides of the binary - would kinda disappoint some sides, even if Julie and Rook understands if season 3 and ov julie were still written well. Not to knock on these relationships, but going out for dates as ‘that guy from class’ would lead to disappointment when heroing takes priority, and ‘this is the hero of the universe’ is significantly prone to disappointment because no one’s a paragon and Ben needs a break from fighting every so oftenx

And aside from the silent appreciation - instead of fawning over his heroics like it was a prize to be with him - Ben may find that Annie is that in-between he needs. Just like him, even at the most relaxed in her life, Annie always as a foot in the alien world; Andromeda 5. And just like him, Annie born and raised on Earth, have gone through some shit before meeting.

I mean sure, nothing compares to being the hero of the universe, but Annie is no stranger to threats. She doesn’t see Ben as this perfect being, but also understands that he’s needed across the universe, to save people like her dads from ending up hurt.

But I don’t know- I’ve pulled these thoughts out of my head and I’m not sure if I’ve gotten the vibes right. I do hope it’s like… understandable and whatever, haha!

[lxndonorris]

by your side - Ben Chilwell

Y/N x Ben Chilwell

Theme: angsty fluff // fluffy angst (not too explicit)

Ben defending you and staying by your side during an argument in a club x

word count: 1030+

It’s nearly midnight on this Friday night and right now, you’re clubbing through town with your boyfriend Ben. One of your favorite songs is playing in the background when you’re dancing slowly at the sidelines, one of Ben’s arms securely wrapped around your waist, holding you close to his body. His once nicely done hair is slightly messed up by the hot and steamy air hovering above the partying crowd and he unbuttoned his shirt just enough to tease everyone around with his well-trained chest. Resting your head against his shoulder and one of your hands inside his shirt, gently stroking his chest, you move rhythmically to the soft beats of the music, slowly getting lost in this moment.

Just then, you hear someone calling his name and by the loud and shrieking sound of their high-pitched voice, there is no doubt that it must be Katie, one of the few people on this earth that you would not want to see ever again in your life. Nearly half a year ago, the two of you were very close friends, hanging out multiple times a week and going to parties together. However, that changed when a mutual friend introduced you to Ben. From the very first second, both of you were highly interested in him and it seemed like he was into Katie as well. However, he quickly turned away from her and after a few dates, you were happy to get together finally. Since that day, she changed drastically, her whole attitude towards you went hostile and disrespectful, so you cut her out of your lives.

Trying so hard not to roll your eyes as soon as you spot her walking towards the two of you, you put on a weak smile and separate just barely from Ben, but his hand still keeps you close to his side. “What a surprise to see you here.” She says, smiling brightly, not even acknowledging your existence at all. Too exhausted and tired to care at all, you lean against his shoulder again, hoping she would leave as soon as possible. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” He says grumpily, and you can feel his whole body tensing in an instant when his grip and expression slowly stiffens. 

She doesn’t even seem to be listening to what he’s saying, or she doesn’t care but she starts looking down his body, seemingly enjoying how good he looks tonight. “What a handsome man you are,” Katie says, her eyes glowing in the dim, flickering lights of the club. Ben smiles softly and you tilt your head just enough to meet his gaze when he rolls his eyes in frustration. You giggle quietly, looking at Ben’s face shimmering slightly. But then, she reaches for his arm, her fingers brushing along his body and both of you, feel very irritated. “You could do so much better.” She says and looks at you, probably wishing that she was in your place right now.

You can feel your whole body reacting to the way she talks about you. Your stomach starts hurting badly, and you clench your fists, thinking about what to tell her, but before you can even open your mouth to say something, Ben cackles underneath his breath and runs a hand through his hair, trying his best to fix it as good as possible. Confused, both of you watch Ben’s face tensing once more when he turns towards Katie. “Do better?” He scoffs, carefully stroking your waist. “With you?” Blinking a few times, you watch her slowly processing what he just said, as she didn’t expect him to react like that.

Then, she crosses her arms in front of her chest and turns her face towards you. Smiling triumphantly, you shrug without saying a word. “Anything is better than her,” Katie says loudly, with a sour tone in her voice. Shaking your head in disbelief, you take a step towards her. “Who do you think you are?” You say, the pain in your stomach getting even worse. “Do I need to explain it for you?” She smirks and throws her hair back. But then, Ben steps closer and puts an arm around your shoulder, with a grim look on his face. “Let me do that for you.” He says and turns towards you. “Y/N is one of the kindest, intelligent and gorgeous woman I’ve ever met and I’m so happy to have her in my life.”

You can see a weak smile forming in the corner of his lips, his eyes soften instantly while he tenderly strokes your arm. “Please.” Katie scoffs and rolls her eyes. Then, he turns his face back towards her, pulling you just a little closer to him, as if telling you that he’d always be by your side. “As soon as you open your mouth, everyone sees through your charade, Katie,” Ben says seriously, in a tone you’d rarely hear him speak at all. “Good looks don’t make up for an ugly personality.” He raises one of his eyebrows and smirks playfully. Defeated and startled, she stands there with her mouth open, seemingly unable to say another word.

“Should we leave now?” Ben asks you lovingly, his whole body now relaxing slowly. Still thinking about the things he said about you, you start smiling brightly and place a hand at his cheek, your fingers running along his jawline through his scruffy beard to his chin. “If you want to.” You say quietly as he leans into you and kissed you gently, the feeling of his soft lips on your giving you goosebumps. Once you separate from him, Katie already left you alone and you leave the club nonetheless. You’re walking hand in hand through the streets of London when you lean against his shoulder once more. “Thank you, for the nice things you said.” You say, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Of course. I wanted to tell you for so long now.” Ben says, his voice husky and rough, but you can still feel that he means it. “I feel the same.” You say happily as he places a kiss right onto your forehead. Together, you walk back to your apartment and spend the night together.

[redrosesartcabin]

The cave incident: Kenji x first perspective reader pt. 1 of 2

(This is happening between season 2 and season 3. So, basically whatever is to happen in season 3 hasn’t happened yet but the entirety of season 2 has)

(I hope you like this little intro and tell me if you like this kinda story and writing style. You can also give me requests for one shots if you like. That being said: I hope you like the story!)

 Relieved yet kind of saddened, that yet another rescue had failed, we stood there, looking out at the sea. I still couldn’t believe Ben was alive. Or that the only people that had the capacity to safe us had been evil. It was all so overwhelming.

After a while of contemplating our fates, we had decided to drive back for now to the treehouse we had built to think about our next step and get some rest. Because as Darius had put it: We were done waiting for the rescue.

 Since we were a big group we had to travel back in two groups. One riding on Bumpy and one on the motorcycle. Since the motorcycle was harder to ride we argued back and forth who would ride on it until all eyes were stuck on Kenji.

“Can’t anyone else ride a motorcycle here?”, Kenji asked with a long groan but received no positive feedback, which led him to let out another typical groan.

I had to hold back an amused laugh as he did. He was adorable when he would lay down his rich, cool, unimpressed guy act…

Yeah… I have a crush on him.

I know: A bad timing to be falling for someone. We barely have time to sit down! But maybe it was exactly that environment and these circumstances that had made it possible for me to fall for him.

It had made it possible for him to grow as person, or rather ‘ungrow’ the person he had become because of how he was raised. Because though he had always looked good to me, he had appeared rather… not that nice. But now: Gosh now I could swoon all day…

 Anyhow, I digress: What I was able convince him to ride the motorcycle again. With me of course. I wouldn’t pass that opportunity.

“Hey”, I said, “I know you are exhausted, but you are the only one who can ride it, plus: It’s too heavy for Bumpy to carry us all and we’d be too crowded. One of us would fall off her for sure! Come on: I’ll even forego riding on Bumpy and accompany you”

He let out a sigh, but quickly gave in and agreed with a light smile. My heart fluttered at that and I could feel my cheeks grow bright red. I hoped he didn’t notice, but he seemed to be oblivious to it as he had to all other instances where it could’ve been obvious that I was crushing hard.

Unlike Brooklyn who gave me a cheeky grin and mouthed something that I was sure meant ‘you are so into him’. Typical Brooklyn: She notices everything.

She had been doing that for at least two weeks now and every time I gave her a death glare, that she however would just laugh at. She knew she was right, and I did too. It was just a matter of me being too chicken and fearing the friendship I had miraculously been able to build with him, would be destroyed if I confessed I had these kinda feelings for him.

 Surprisingly, over our time together I had to recognize that we had more in common than I thought. Besides being the same age, we also both hated math and liked bowling. Though Kenji and I had to admit that we probably weren’t very good at it. In my case it was because I didn’t get to do it often, in Kenji’s case it was because his father’s staff would always let him win and thusly, he hadn’t gotten proper practice. He had told me that with a laugh, as if though it was supposed to be amusing, but really, I could see the pain in his eyes.

One could say his life of wealthiness gave him a lot of incredible privileges and made his life in many aspects easier for him than for others. But in truth, being treated that differently, like a little child, a being from out of space, or like some kinda god even, when you are neither of these things, messes with you after a while. You are treated that way, but when you act it, you are hated. Why? You don’t understand. How could you understand? Aren’t you the most important person in the world? Deep down you know you aren’t, and you feel it most when you don’t receive the affection a human being craves for. He has a father, but he didn’t grow up with one. He grew up with servants. Wealthiness was his parent.

And suddenly I had understood where he was coming from, why he acted the way he did.

I never directly told him, that I understand it, because there was still too much pride in him to admit it. I had decided, it was better to just listen and engage in conversation with him, even if he acts immature in certain situations.

And I had been right.

And so, we connected. As friends. Though to me it quickly became more than that.

It felt wrong though, in this situation. Was it just the drill of it all? The hormones going crazy? A savior complex?

He wasn’t a bad person though. He wasn’t inherently abusive, so he didn’t need a savior, someone to make him ‘right’. He needed someone who understood that beautiful person he was hiding. Also: What kind of drill we lived through could make you fall in love? Seeing the other person screaming and seething in the dirt, on the run from a dinosaur? Yeah: Very attractive (that was sarcasm if that wasn’t obvious).

 ‘This is all stupid’, I thought as I was leaning against his back, my arms wrapped around his stomach and chest as we were riding in a comfortable silence along the jungle, ‘this entire thought process is just a way to tell myself that these feelings aren’t real, so that I can run away from it forever’. I sighed, trying to forget my overthinking for once.

I loved this moment. The warmth I felt as I was cuddled against him. Riding with him was a good excuse for proximity I’d otherwise would never get-

 But it was rudely interrupted by a shove that came from the right.

We didn’t see the dinosaur coming, or at least not soon enough. It was just too fast.

The motorcycle went flying down a steep hill we had been driving by. I heard our screams as we came crashing down in what seemed to be slow motion moment.

With all his might, Kenji tried turning the bike around to get some footing again, but only managed to find stability enough so that we wouldn’t fall to our death by being crushed by the vehicle and twisting our bodies, but instead fall, with the tires on the downside, into a big hole in the ground. It reminded me of a cave with an open ceiling.

The motorcycle finally came to a hold. We were breathing heavily, still in shock.

At the same time, we turned our heads up.

The hole wasn’t that deep, but just deep enough we couldn’t get out so easily.

“Oh no”, we said at the same time.

“Looks like we are stuck here”

[hphmmatthewluther]

Matthew Luther and the Riddle of Easter

7th April, 1985:

It was a Sunday, and everyone at Hogwarts was either busy enjoying themselves or furiously studying for their exams. Well, almost everyone. For in the West wing of the Castle, up in Ravenclaw Tower, there was one person still in their bed. He wasn’t asleep, but he didn’t exactly want to get out of bed. Matthew Luther didn’t really feel like there was much of a point. If he did, he would either get dozens of looks for being Jacob Luther’s brother, or be pestered by the Slytherins again. As far as he was concerned, it was best to avoid all of that. For the past three years, it appeared that God had been playing an awfully long-winded joke on him. So there he laid, trying not to think about anything, forcing himself to go back to sleep.

Suddenly, there was a noise. A loud, piercing screech. It sounded like a cat of some kind. It was probably Mrs Norris, Matthew thought, covering his ears with the pillow. If he hadn’t, he would have heard several tiny footsteps moving towards the dormitory door, followed by a click. He finally noticed when the door swung open, filling the room with light.

“Gah!” Matthew exclaimed, squinting to see that the only thing in the doorway was a cat. It wasn’t Mrs Norris, that was for sure. This one had large, green eyes and ginger hair, and it didn’t hiss at a moments’ notice. It walked up to the bed, and started to mew at the first-year.

“...Oh, what? What is it?” Matthew asked, pushing himself over to see the cat. It looked at him, right at him, before glancing up at his desk. On it was Matthew’s wand, books, and his silver bracelet. In a flash, the ginger cat jumped up and swiped it, scampering out of the room with the bracelet in its mouth.

“H-Hey!” yelled Matthew, quickly forcing the duvet off of him, grabbing his wand and heading off after the cat. He followed it down the stairs and into the Ravenclaw Common Room, and into the many bookshelves that made up Ravenclaw Tower. The cat headed deep into the tower, until it came to a stop several minutes later near an alcove with several blue lanterns and cushions. It sat down on one of these cushions, keeping the bracelet under its claws. Slowly, Matthew approached the animal, now exhausted thanks to having chased it down here.

“There’s got to be a better way to do this...” he said to himself, moving closer. And then it hit him. He was going about this all wrong. I always am, he thought, stopping in his tracks. Cautiously, he moved his hand forward, not towards the bracelet, but to the cat’s head. It hesitated for a moment, sniffing the hand, before allowing Matthew to stroke its head, moving its claws away from the silver. He didn’t grab it instantly, and instead sat down on one of the cushions, continually stroking the cat. Eventually, it moved onto his lap, and Matthew finally grabbed his bracelet and put it on. He gave a sigh of relief as he felt the cold metal touch his skin.

“Ah, you’re not so bad.” he admitted, as he started to give the cat chinny rubs. It purred loudly in his lap. “I wonder who you belong to.”

“He belongs to nobody.” came a woman’s voice. Matthew snapped his head up, and the cat remained still in its lap. In front of them was a silvery figure in a resplendent dress, with long brown hair going past the shoulders. She had the tiniest of smiles on her face. Matthew gasped.

“It’s you...” he began, “The Ghost of Ravenclaw Tower...Helena Ravenclaw.” he said, remembering Chester informing him that she didn’t like the name “The Grey Lady”. And honestly, who would?

“I am glad that you solved my riddle. It’s a favourite of those eager to find a suitor who has both intelligence and kindness, and faith in their soul.” Helena explained, “Take good care of it.”

Matthew’s eyes widened. “You- You’re giving me a cat? W-What? W-Why?” he stammered, looking down at the cat’s green eyes.

“I felt that you require a companion that is immune to human inventions such as rumour, or scandal.” Helena said, gliding closer to the window. “Things that you know too well.”

Matthew nodded. “You can say that again.” The cat got off of his lap and pounced up to the windowsill. The Ravenclaw got up and moved towards it too, to see whatever it was that had caught their attention. From here, they could see a great deal of Hogwarts, including the Clocktower Courtyard. There, he could make out a large crowd of people surrounding two people. One of them was a nervous-looking Gryffindor, and the other was a wild-haired Slytherin.

“Ben and Merula!” Matthew exclaimed, “Oh no...”

“Ah, yes. I believe the Snyde girl has been one of the most eager to find the Cursed Vaults.” Helena observed. “Besides you, of course. I must ask, is this why you have shut yourself here?”

Matthew’s expression soured even more so. The cat nuzzled his shoulder. “That’s..that’s not it. It’s just...well, it’s Easter.”

“Indeed it is.” confirmed Helena, looking down at the boy.

“Well, it’s just...we don’t have an owl, so my Dad can’t send me anything, so that sucks...” Matthew explained, “But more than that...it’ll be the first time I’ve missed it. Every year, we’d go to church and they’d give us all a little chocolate egg, and we got to do colouring activities while the main service happened. I know I’m twelve now, but...it was nice seeing everyone there, you know? I just...that was how it happened every year. I miss that.”

Helena nodded. “You miss your old life. Now I must ask you something that may cause you offence.” she announced. “How does staying up here solve any of that?”

Matthew stared, open-mouthed. “Wh- well, I...I...you stay up here all the time, don’t you?!” he reminded her, suddenly very annoyed. He knew that staying up here wasn’t helping, but hearing it from somebody else was just...well, it felt awful. It then occurred to him what he had just said. “I...I’m sorry, I should go, I-”

“No. I understand.” Helena reassured him. 

“I...” Matthew began, “It’s no excuse, but...I just...I know it's wrong. But I can’t bring myself to change anything. When I was younger I’d always had Jacob to help me with that...we’d always get the same Easter chocolate, too. He’d tell me when to stop so I could space it out over the holidays, you know, to make it last. He was brilliant. I guess if I had the chocolate now, I’d eat it all in one go and feel awful about it later...I...I guess I just miss him. He was brilliant, and...I can’t stand his name being tarnished.” As he let everything out, he found himself stroking the cat again. It turned onto its back and let Matthew rub its belly. Helena watched for a moment, before sighing.

“Matthew Luther, in case you had not noticed, I am dead. But more than that, I am a ghost. I refused to let go of this world, as I did not have the faith to move on. Thus, I am trapped here, unable to truly feel the pull of the world around me...unable to enact change. You are not dead. You are alive. You can enact change.”

Matthew digested this, taking a long sigh. “You’re right. Of course you are. It’s just...so damn hard sometimes.”

“As all things worth doing are.” Helena said, “Now, best hurry. It looks like Mr Copper has been struck by the Jelly-Legs Jinx.”

“Right!” said Matthew, picking up his wand again and heading towards the door of Ravenclaw Tower, the cat following behind. “Honestly, I think I lost God’s lottery, and then there’s Ben-”

“Matthew!” cried Helena, gliding forward.

“Um...yes?” he asked. The ghost pointed at him.

“You are still wearing your pyjamas.” 

Matthew blushed. “Right, sorry, gah!” he exclaimed, heading up to the boy’s dormitory. A few minutes later he emerged, now with proper clothes on. He looked down at the cat by his feet.

“I guess you need a name.” he realised. “How about...Danny?”

Danny mewed quietly, scratching his head against Matthew’s leg.

“Great.” He said, before turning to the Grey Lady. “I...thank you. You know, I think you’re slightly wrong. You said you couldn’t change things, and now here I am, off to duel half of Slytherin.”

Helena’s smile grew ever-so-slightly. “Well...take care of that cat. It’s been in my care for a few years now, it deserves someone like you.”

“I will. I promise.” he said. Before he left, however, he turned back. “Um, Helena?”

“Yes, Matthew?”

“Do wizards...do they believe in God?”

Helena paused, then nodded. “Some do. They believe that he gave us our magic for a purpose, and...that we are destined to act as Guardian Angels for the masses.”

Matthew nodded in return. “Yeah, cool, um...see you around, Helena! Thank you for the cat! Oh, and Happy Easter!” he yelled, before dashing out of Ravenclaw Tower.

When Matthew got to the courtyard, the crowd had almost doubled. Rowan was standing nearby.

“Where were you? The Slytherins have been, well they’ve been-”

“I know.” Matthew said, scowling. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd. The group of Slytherins were hurling insult after insult at Ben, who had next-to-no chance of defending himself. Matthew sighed, and pointed his wand at Ben’s wiggling legs.

“Unjellify!” he yelled, causing them to straighten out. Ben immediately backed away, Rowan moving forward to check if he was okay. “Wait, the counter-curse is just ‘Unjellify’? That’s it?!” Merula asked, her eyebrow raised.

“Trust me, I was surprised too.” Matthew said, chuckling. “Alright then, guys, you’ve had your fun, so-”

“Oh shut up, halfbreed.” sneered Preston Crawford, another Slytherin who Matthew found to be worse than Merula. “You’ve made an enemy today, you know that?”

“Mm, and I haven’t even had breakfast yet.” Matthew said, looking up at the clock tower. “Hm. Half eleven. Guess I’ll have to settle for brunch.”

“You’re going nowhere, Luther.” Merula declared, stepping forward. “I doubt you could ever best me.”

“Is that so?” Matthew asked. “How about this, then: If I win, you can’t lay a finger on Ben Copper ever again.”

Merula snorted. “And if I win, you will never search for the Cursed Vaults ever again.”

“Fine by me.” Matthew said, genuinely smiling. “By all means, you first.”

“Flipendo!” she screamed. Matthew took it head-on. He heard a gasp from the crowd as he skidded to a halt. Matthew looked down to see Danny by his feet. Ben was nearby.

“Matthew...you really don’t have to do this...really, I..” he stammered, but Matthew just smiled, and gestured to his cat.

“Take care of my cat while I do this, will you? Thanks a bunch. Expelliarmus!” he yelled, knocking Merula’s wand right out of her hand.

“Ooh...you little...” she muttered, scowling at the cheering crowd. “You can’t do this! You can’t stop me from showing that mudblood who’s boss! I’m the Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts, and-”

“Umm...Merula...” Matthew began, pointing behind her.

“No, I’m not done! How’d you master that spell already?! It’s not fair! Nobody can be better than me! I can do what I want, when I want! I run this school, I-”

“Merula...” Matthew tried again.

“For Merlin’s sake, what?!”

“Ahem.” said Professor Snape. Merula looked behind her and gulped. Preston and his cronies quickly scattered.

“P-Professor Snape!” she said, quickly.

“I suspect this is your fault, Luther. Are you aware of Hogwarts policy on unauthorised duelling?”

Matthew felt his stomach curl up, and it wasn’t because he’d missed breakfast.

“Sir,” piped up Rowan, “Merula hit him first, he-”

“Enough, Khanna. Is this true, Miss Snyde?” Snape asked. Merula looked as though she was going to deny it, but Danny had walked over and started moving in and out of her legs. She looked down at the cat, then up at Snape, and nodded.

“Very well. You will report to me in the West Towers to discuss this transgression.” He declared, both him and Flitwick departing. A silence hung in the air.

“Blimey, I am starving.” said Matthew, clutching his stomach. “I wonder if they do cat food...Not for me of course,” he added, looking at Merula’s bewildered expression.

“Luther...I’m getting to the Vaults first. And you won’t stop me.”

“I look forward to trying.” he said, before heading into the castle with Rowan, moving towards the Great Hall.

“See? Told you she wasn’t that bad.” he was saying as they came to Ravenclaw table.

“Matthew, she tried to jinx you.” Rowan reminded him. “I mean, I certainly didn’t expect her to tell the truth, but do you really think she’ll keep her promise to stop bullying Ben?”

“I suppose we’ll find out.” 

Suddenly, there was a loud hooting as several owls flew into the Hall. One of them flew low down and dropped a large box in front of Matthew. Attached to it was a note.

Hey Matt,

Happy Easter. I don’t know if they celebrate it over there, but I convinced your mother to let me send these to you with her owl.

Keep it up, 

Love, Dad.

Matthew smiled and opened the box. It was filled with several large chocolate eggs, and a singular smaller one, too.

“Wh-what is all this?” Merula asked, having just appeared in the Great Hall.

“I think...” said Matthew, “It’s God’s way of saying, ‘Sorry, mate.’ Why, do you want some?”

Merula scowled, then walked over to the Slytherin table. Matthew just grinned.

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Congrats on 750 and thanks so much for doing this! Can I please request “4. I need to know that you can trust me. Please.” for Tom? Angst to fluff with maybe a dash of smut at the end? I could see either Tom or the OFC say this under different circumstances, but I would leave that choice up to you! Thanks again and also thank you for creating such a wonderful blog:)

Thank you so much for sending this request! I will admit that this is incredibly long at 3.4k words and it 100% got away from me to take on a life of its own. As it stands, I couldn’t make any smut work in it, but I do hope that you enjoy it nonetheless!

Thank you to @vodka-and-some-sass who gave me some very helpful insight on this fic! It wouldn’t be what it is without you!

Warning: language!

Five Stars

“Ben, I can’t. I’m sorry, but I’m swamped working on the cues for-”

“Too busy to pop into our Ugly Sweater party? Nonsense! You must come. It has been ages since we’ve seen you.”

You made a noncommittal grunt, scouring the thoroughly marked script in front of you, ignoring the pixelated face giving you a very stern glare from the screen beside it.

“It starts at eight. Sophie will be so pleased to know you’re coming.”

The screen went blank after his unceremonious goodbye. You rolled your eyes before pulling the pencil from behind your ear to make another note. Ben was a force of nature, had been since you’d met him starting out in theatre, and it was easier just to go along with whatever he wanted whenever he got an idea into his head. Maybe a few hours of fun might do your exhausted mind a bit of good. Clear the clutter and whatnot. What could it hurt?

~

What was the line between a sweater being so ugly it was awesome and just being embarrassingly terrible?

You were sure you had crossed that line with the getup you were wearing, but there wasn’t time to change as you had already knocked on the door to the Cumberbatch house. You were swept inside from the soft snowfall into a pair of long, lanky arms and crushed against an almost skeletal body.

“It’s been so long! Come on, Sophie can open the wine you’ve brought, and then I need to introduce you to some new friends.”

You followed along without getting much of a word in edge-wise, nursing a glass of red wine thrust into your hand by Sophie before you made the rounds at Ben’s side. Names and faces went in one ear and out the other. Hands were shaken, cheeks of old friends were kissed, and small talk was made. The cheery Christmas music in the background and the slight buzz of alcohol in your system helped to loosen you up, and soon you were sitting on the arm of a couch, contentedly people watching when Ben confidently strode up to you, ushering along someone behind him.

“You look positively bored out of your skull, and I have just the solution. I’d like you to meet Tom,” he said with a grin and a flourish, stepping out of the way to present ‘Tom’.

“Tom Hiddleston,” he said, the familiar face sheepish as he held out a hand for you to shake. “Ben has regaled me with great tales of your running around together years and years ago.”

His hand was warm when you took it, smooth and firm and completely enveloping yours with the length of his thin fingers. “I’m sure they’re highly edited versions of what truly happened, all spun to put him in a more attractive light.”

“On the contrary,” he smiled, running his hand through the auburn locks curling behind his ears before shoving his hand into the pocket of his dark jeans, “they were tailored to do so for yourself. Perhaps you can tell enlighten me with your perspective?”

And that was how you spent the evening chatting with Tom Hiddleston. You had known that he and Ben were close friends, he’d been mentioned in passing before, but it was one thing to hear about ‘Tom flying to the States to work on a film’ and another to have the full force of Tom Hiddleston and his breathtaking rapt attention clothed in a gaudy Christmas sweater directed at you from close range. It was secretly thrilling to hold the focus of someone so beautiful, to watch his eyes sparkle and mouth pull back into a grin at your jokes and anecdotes. His hands spun tales in the space between you, as expressive and vibrant as his many impassioned tangents. You couldn’t deny the twist of butterflies in your stomach when his hand settled onto the middle of your back and his head craned down to better hear your point over a sudden burst of laughter from the other party guests.

But the night couldn’t last forever, and the glass of spiked eggnog Ben had slipped into your hand was in cahoots with the late hour to make you drowsy. Your poor attempt at stifling a yawn behind your hand did not go unnoticed by the keen blue eyes that hadn’t left you since you’d been introduced what felt like an eternity ago.

“Perhaps we should call it a night,” Tom offered, standing up and stretching languidly. It was pure force of will that kept your eyes from lingering on the peek of pale skin at his hip revealed by the gaudy red bottom of his sweater riding up from the innocent movement.

You slipped your phone out of your pocket, nodding in agreement. “You’re probably right. I’ve been working myself to the bone. I’ll just call an Uber and then make the rounds.”

His hand closed over your phone, pushing it gently down to your side. “I was about to leave. Allow me to give you a ride, in payment for monopolizing so much of your time?”

How could you say no to such an earnest face? With his brows lifted into a hopeful smile, you were hooked. “Let me say goodbye?”

You left Tom to wind your way through the mingling crowd, the music and murmuring having leveled off to more intimate levels as the evening wore on. It was easy to find Ben stationed in the kitchen, packing away the leftover finger foods.

“Heading out?” he asked when you handed him a cheese platter, glancing around you before turning to the open refrigerator once more. “Sophie wanted to say goodnight before she went up to bed, but she couldn’t find you.”

Their home wasn’t that big, but you let it slide with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. You carefully put your empty glass into the overloaded sink. “Yeah. It’s getting late, and Tom offered to give me a lift back to mine.”

“Oh, Tom?” The interest on his overly expressive face was impossible to miss. “Hit it off, did you?”

You swatted at his chest before pulling him into a quick hug. “Oh hush, you. You’re about as subtle as a slap to the face. He’s nice. Come say goodbye, you meddling fool.”

He acted overly offended, hands clutching his chest as he led you back toward the front door where Tom was waiting, already buttoned into his black pea coat. “Meddle? Me? Never!”

Tom’s answering chuckle was filled with warmth as he pulled your coat from your hands, helping you into it without any fuss. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, but I’m inclined to side with the lady. You are far too meddlesome for your own good, Ben.”

“Would it be considered meddling to inform you both that you’re stationed underneath the mistletoe?” Ben asked, a devious smile on his face as he pointed above your heads.

Sure enough, he had cheekily planted that festive decoration right above the front door. Heat flooded your cheeks when you dropped your gaze down to Tom and shoved your hands into your coat pockets awkwardly. “That bastard.”

He shifted just a breath closer to you, so the masculine scented warmth of his body fought against the chill seeping through the front door at your side. “It is tradition. May I?”

When you quickly nodded your silent reply, his hand came up to cradle your cheek facing the room, permitting you a bit of privacy. As soon as your lashes fluttered against your cheeks did he kiss you, a quick, almost chaste brush of his lips, leaving you with just the barest taste of the chocolate he sampled earlier. It wasn’t enough.

You ignored the inferno set inside of you at the simple action and opened your eyes, startled to see Tom still so close to you. His breath fanned across your face, sweet and quick, and his thumb stroked your cheek softly before he released you from the captivating spell of his blown light-blue eyes.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his jacket up around his neck, shooting Ben one last glance. “Thank you for inviting us to the party this evening. I’ll get in touch soon.”

You waved your goodbye before following him outside, mind trying to wrap around being included in Tom’s farewell to your mutual friend. It was surely nothing, as was the way that his hand lighted on your lower back to assist you into the car. You were exhausted. That had to explain why you were so tongue-tied and nervous for the entire drive back to your home.

“That’s me,” you gestured to the side of the road, sitting up straighter in the soft leather seat.

He pulled to a slow and careful stop on the curb. The tense silence that filled the small space threatened to choke you, but you couldn’t make yourself reach for the door. Doing so would be a definite cap on the evening. The spell would be broken and you would go back to the mundanity of daily life without the captivated ear of a handsome gentleman.

Tom broke your sorrowful train of thought, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Allow me to walk you to the door.”

In the spare seconds that you had to compose yourself, all you managed to do was thoroughly inspect a smudge on his rear-view mirror. Cold rushed into the haven of his car when he opened the door, drawing you out by the guidance of his gentle hand. He followed you to the door, towering above you and ducking his shoulders against the frigid breeze that ruffled your hair.

“Thanks for the ride.” You fidgeted with the keys in your hands, worrying the worn metal. “It was much more pleasant than an Uber ride, that’s for sure.” So smooth.

“Will you give me five stars?”

The joke gave you enough confidence to lift your face to his. You startled slightly at how close he was, the fog from your breath swirling together to mix with the scattered snowfall. The tenderness in his gaze made your heart race in your chest. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips against the wind, and the darkness that flooded his pale blue eyes made your breath catch in your throat. Snowflakes caught on his light lashes and tinted his now rosy cheeks. You heard yourself ask, “What have you done to earn them?”

Uncertainty flashed across his face for the briefest of moments before determination ticked in his temple. He stilled the clink of your keys with his hand over yours, using the contact to shift that much closer to you. Hope and the desire that clenched in your stomach bid you to tilt your pouted mouth up to him in offering. He accepted, giving you a warm, gentle kiss that warmed you from the top of your head to the tips of your curled toes. The sensitive skin around your mouth tickled from the rasp of his short beard, wholly masculine and surprisingly soft.

“Goodnight, darling. I’ll call you in the morning.”

He stayed on your doorstep until you fumbled the keys into the lock with trembling fingers. The last thing visible through the slowly tightening crack in the closing door was his kind smile crinkling around his eyes, bright and full of promise just for you.

If he called the next morning, which would be impossible because you had forgotten to give him your number like a pining idiot, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. You woke to your phone blaring out your ringtone nonstop. It had vibrated itself right off of the bedside table onto the floor so you had to practically fall out of bed to silence it. As soon as you did, another call came through from an unknown number, followed by several texts and emails in quick succession.

“What the?” Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you leaned back against the side of your bed, opening your texts because you were definitely not alert enough to speak to a living person yet.

’ARE YOU DATING TOM HIDDLESTON?!?!’

‘Was that you in the papers with Tom Hiddleston?’

Practically every person under the sun that you had ever come in contact with had sent you a message or called you, flooding your phone with notifications you were instantly too overwhelmed to handle.

You grabbed a change of clothes, answering the phone on the next ring and shoving it into your ear, not even caring who had called as you gathered your things for a shower.

“Are you alright?”

Ben. “What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?”

“I sent you a picture taken by the paparazzi yesterday. It’s all over the gossip magazines and websites. I haven’t been able to get a hold of Tom. I assume he’s been tied up with Luke all morning. Are you alright?”

You didn’t answer him, tossing your clothes onto the bathroom sink so you could flip through your overload of messages to find what Ben was talking about. There, on the front of some tawdry magazine, was a slightly grainy picture of you and Tom from the previous evening. There was no mistaking it. There you were, locking lips with the internet’s perpetually single boyfriend.

Shit. You placed the phone on top of your clothes, hitting the speakerphone so you could turn on the water for the shower. “Nothing happened, Ben.”

“I know that, you know that, and Tom knows that. But the world doesn’t, and several hundred-thousand opinions hold more weight than the truth in this instance.”

Hitting your head repeatedly against the tiled bathroom wall was suddenly far more appealing than the current conversation. “I can’t deal with this right now. I’m going to take a shower. Thanks for checking in, Ben.”

Hair damp and decked out in your softest lounge clothes, you had foolishly expected that the situation would somehow magically improve. But it only seemed to worsen upon leaving the sanctuary of your bedroom. When you peeked out from behind your curtains to see what all the shouting that you heard was about, dozens of men with cameras bigger than your face were visible across the street. They perked up at the movement and their huge black lenses all turned in your direction.

You were trapped. Grumbling, you turned on your heel to retreat to your room when loud knocks pounded straight into your skull, making you practically jump out of your skin with shock.

“Who is it?” you called, pressing your ear against the front door. Who would brave the field of paparazzi to visit you?

“It’s me! Please, let me in,” Tom called.

You hurried over and ushered him in before closing the door against the blinding flashes shot in your direction, blinking the spots from your eyes.

He held his hands out in front of him, palms up. “I apologize for showing up without an invitation, but I didn’t have your number, and I was concerned.”

You crossed your arms over your chest to hide the trembling in your limbs at the sudden spotlight thrust upon you, shrugging your shoulders in what wasn’t exactly a convincing act of nonchalance. Desperate to hide from his earnest, ever-observant stare, you went into the kitchen and set the kettle on the burner. “It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s whatever.”

His heavy footsteps matched the roaring pulse in your ears as his long legs quickly closed the distance between you. He carefully took your hand in between both of his, turning you to face him. “You aren’t fine.”

“No, I’m damn well not fine,” you huffed, pinching your nose with your free hand. You dropped your chin onto your chest, closing your eyes as you fought the anxiety gripping your lungs like a vice. “I woke up this morning to my phone blowing up because of a stolen picture with you. I’m sure half of the internet hates me because they think we’re this serious thing now, and any illusion of privacy that I had is dwindling by the second as they try to figure out who the heck I am to either crucify me or congratulate me. It’s just…”

He released your arm to curl his fingers underneath your jaw, lifting your gaze from the burgundy cable-knit jumper covering his chest. The genuine concern that creased his brow and tugged on the corners of his mouth would be your undoing if you allowed yourself the weakness. “It is quite the ordeal, and you didn’t ask for this aspect of our relationship.”

“There isn’t any relationship at all! It was only a kiss. Well, two, but still. It would be one thing if there was,” you paused, allowing yourself the luxury of fully savoring his electrifying touch before pulling your face out of his featherlight hold, “but there isn’t.”

His hand scrubbed over the whiskers muddying his razor sharp jawline before falling to ghost over the curve of your hip. “If there was, what?”

You didn’t know what you were saying, what you had just said and alluded to. Your thoughts were a blur and you couldn’t discern whether you wanted to hide from him or into him. Quickly replaying what you had blurted out in your distracted state, you sighed heavily, the weight of what could not be dragged down your shoulders. What would it hurt to say what had been lingering on your mind all morning? “If there was something between us, maybe all the scrutiny would be worth it. If we were together, and I didn’t have to face them alone. If there was a reason behind terrifying men shouting awful things at me outside of my home. As it is, I’m a prisoner in my home for no damned good reason.”

He took a step away from you, arms crossing over his chest. “A consolation prize, then?”

You wanted to slam your fists onto the countertop, scream and tear your hair out at the confusion and frustration of it all. Instead, your hands flailed uselessly in between you. “No! No, not that.”

“Then what?” he asked, silken voice as tight and guarded as the rest of him. Steely blue eyes held you captive as he demanded an explanation.

What did it hurt to admit your fledgling feelings at this point? “Being with you, it wouldn’t be some consolation prize. You aren’t a-a prize to be won, Tom. I like you, okay? It was fun to talk with you last night, and you sure are one heck of a kisser. Five stars, for sure. I just…” you waved your arms at the throng of paparazzi you could faintly hear gathered outside. “That’s a lot to take on, especially for someone I hardly know.”

His arms fell to his sides and he took a small step toward you. “If it weren’t for the fame, for the fans and the celebrity and the madness of it all, would you hesitate?”

“Not for a second,” you answered instantly. The answer came from deep within you with no thought.

“Well, then…” His hands came up on either side of your face, cupping your jaw. He moved with absolute care, slow and steady with plenty of time for you to stop him at any point. First his forehead rested lightly against you, then his nose nudged along your cheek, and finally his mouth slanted over yours in a kiss so full of passion and intensity that your knees buckled. He held you upright between his body and the counter behind you, hands splayed over your sides and fingertips molded to the soft flesh of your waist.

He tucked your head beneath his chin, nuzzling his cheek into your damp hair. “Give us a chance? Give this a chance.”

You dug your fingertips into the worn wool of his jumper, inhaling the dark and soothing scent of his cologne from your nose pressed into his chest. “Tom…”

“I will handle this, I promise,” he assured you, reaching up to cup the back of your neck, holding you to him. “I need to know you can trust me. Please.”

The tension slowly left your shoulders at the caress of his hand down your spine. You melted into him. “Ben is going to be insufferable when he hears,” you said, doing your best to keep the happiness from your voice, but you were no award-winning actor.

“Let him,” he growled, hooking his thumbs underneath your chin, tilting your face up to him so he could further prove to you with his pillowy-soft lips and coffee-laced tongue exactly why trusting him would be worth all the sorrow and strife waiting just outside your door.

~~~

Whole Shebang Taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @lovesmesomehiddles @silverswordthekilljoy

[fairfowl]

Hot Chocolate and Liquor (I Need A Drink)

April 2nd 2019, the remaining Hargreeves tie up loose ends (Klaus-centric, no Sparrows)

this fic is also on AO3

-

They arrived on April 2nd 2019 to an empty tomb of a mansion, echoing and cold. By the staircase Grace had booted up and greeted them warmly, leading them down to the kitchen for a snack as though nothing had ever happened.

There was no sign of Pogo.

No sign of Reginald. 

No apocalypse.

After everything that they'd experienced the anticlimactic calm had been surreal. The six of them had followed their mother's measured footsteps down the halls of their childhood home, politely averting their eyes as Diego wiped tears away. 

Five had led, with Vanya close to him. Diego and Luther followed side by side, while Klaus trailed after Allison, his fingers ghosting over the sleeve of her dress as though he was afraid of getting lost. Allison bore her brother's clinginess well, eventually grabbing and holding his bony hand in hers as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

Both of them were shaking, but neither said a word.

Mom brewed hot chocolate uncannily quickly, and with more skill than Klaus had seen from professional chefs. Miraculously his flask had survived their battle and time travel, after pouring a hearty dose of the contents into his hot chocolate Klaus generously donated the rest to his siblings. Vanya, Allison, and Five accepted his offer—some more gratefully than others—while Luther and Diego declined. 

Instead Diego had turned to the counter and said something completely unprecedented.

"Mom, why don't you come sit down with us?" 

Their mother was widely considered to be unflappable. Klaus had seen her wrist deep in her childrens' guts, standing between knife wielding teenagers, and facing her own demise, all with the same demure expression on her face. But now she paused 

“Sure” She said finally, smiling, her blank processing expression turning to the familiar bright smile that she wore so often. “If it makes you kids happy.” 

It did.

She placed a plate of perfectly arranged cookies at the center of the table before sitting beside Diego,  her back straight, prim and proper, while the six of them silently drank their hot chocolate. It felt like a tiny little revolution. 

Allison had been the first to stand. Her graceful fingers had ghosted over her wedding ring as she explained. 

“I need to talk to Claire.” 

Five had nodded immediately, and the others followed suit. Klaus gave his sister a smile and two thumbs up before returning to his drink. He wondered idly if he would be able to summon Raymond, it was possible that he had died in the fifty-six years they’d travelled to be here. If he were alive he would be in his late eighties. Klaus hoped he’d had a good life, for Allison’t sake. 

As Allison left he switched the mug in his hands and grasped the hem of Vanya’s oversized shirt, rolling the stitches between his pointer and thumb hello.

Vanya looked at him, at first surprised and then soft, she said nothing but scooted closer. Across from him Diego met his eyes as Luther watched Allison go. Her heels made a quick anxious tap tap tap as she walked away.

“What are we going to do now?” Klaus broke the silence. “Now that it’s all over do we just go back to what we were doing before? Go our separate ways?” 

The remaining siblings shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other. 

“I don’t really have anything to go back to.” Luther said, running a large finger over the table’s wooden surface. “The last four years I spent in this time were all wasted on another of Dad’s lies. It’s not like I can just go back up to the moon and do nothing.” 

Luthor’s expression was caught between a rueful smile and a grimace. The look on his face was all but alien to the rest of the siblings, who had rarely seen Luthor look anything but neutral, annoyed, or smug. Klaus wondered if the ability to move his face was something that he’d learned on the moon, or if he’d picked it up during his time as an underground boxer who worked for the mafia. 

And wasn’t that still surreal. 

“I don’t have anywhere to be either.” Five chimed in, staring at his hot chocolate as if it held all the secrets of time and space. He seemed shocked by the prospect. After decades of single minded survival, years of assassinations, and two weeks of mad running to stop the world from ending, it must have been outright bizarre to find himself with nothing else to do. 

“You could join me!” Klaus interjected, unwilling to let the mood sour without at least an attempt of a joke. He pointed at Five.  “I have a lovely little alley behind Dunkin Donuts that’s just lovely this time of year.” 

“Why didn’t you invite me to your alley?” Luthor’s face turned to a more familiar annoyed expression.

“You wouldn’t fit.” As he spoke Klaus jolted slightly as Vanya’s small hand shot out, wrapping around his wrist.

“You were living in an alley?” 

“Not really.” He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t really live anywhere Vanya. It’s just a nice alley.”

Vanya looked as though she doubted that. 

"I think I'm still first chair." She murmured, there was something heavy in her voice. Klaus wondered if she really even wanted the position. "But I also think I probably still killed Leonard." 

There was something matter of fact in her statement, a resignation to accompany the guilt. 

"That doesn't matter." Luther frowned. "He was evil."

If only it was that simple. 

"Were your fingerprints on any of those knives?" Diego asked, his expression thoughtful.

"No, but there should be some in the house …. And in his car." 

“Ours would be too then.” Diego said, drawing one of his knives and fiddling with it thoughtfully. “Allison, Five, and I all went to his house to look around.”

Klaus frowned, glancing about the room before he remembered that the presence that he was looking for wasn’t there. If Ben wasn’t around then he’d have to think for himself. Vanya’s hand was warm on his clammy skin. 

“Remember when we were kids, and Dad would send Ben into a room with all the bad guys so he could ‘take care of them’?” He used his free hand to make air quotes. “We kind of committed murder all the time and never faced consequences for it. Why should we now?”

It was a horrible thing to say, arrogant and callous and extremely typical for the Hargreeves family. His siblings nodded uneasily. The room felt colder.

“How did Dad make all of that go away?” Klaus continued. 

“He had a lot of connections.” Luther ventured, his mug dwarfed to the comparative size of a shot glass by his giant fingers. “Between him and Pogo they could just sort of make anything go away. I think he had connections with the government somehow.” 

“Do you think we could inherit any of those connections?” Vanya raised her head, pushing hair out of her face. She was so pale that her eyes seemed black against the whiteness of her skin, even in the warm light of the kitchen.  

“Maybe.” Luther looked at Diego as if he was expecting a challenge, but Diego simply whittled at the edge of the table, his expression conflicted. Klaus doubted that their tentative plan sat well with their brother’s zealous sense of justice, and he was grateful to Diego for the restraint that he had shown so far. After their time in the 1960s, his experiences in the psychiatric hospital, his failed attempt to save Kennedy, and whatever had happened with Lila—Klaus really was confused about what had gone on there—must have exhausted him. 

Either that or Mom’s presence had mellowed him out. 

Speaking of Mom.

“There’s a form in your father’s office that can be used to deal with casualties. Once filled out it can be submitted electronically to an anonymous government agent who then proceeds to clean up any loose ends.” Her smile was like the ones shown in toothpaste commercials. 

“Well fuck.” Five’s time stopping the apocalypse really had done nothing for his manners.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Really they hadn’t known if it would work—they still didn’t know for sure—but it was better than doing nothing. After they had brought her up to speed Allison had put it well.

“It’s a good first step.” 

So they crowded together in their deceased father’s office, their voices hushed as though they were still children under Reginald’s watchful eye. Above them the unmarred portrait loomed, unyielding and perpetually disdainful. 

“I wonder if he was ever happy.” Vanya murmured, looking up at the painting as Luthor opened the file cabinet. Allison perched against the desk her eyes on Klaus as Klaus in turn watched Vanya. 

“I doubt it.” Five responded coming up to stand beside their sister. “Whatever else he was, Reginald Hargreeves was a terminal malcontent.” 

It was a grim pronouncement for a man who had ultimately committed suicide, but certainly not untrue. The terminal malcontent and his seven little natural disasters, spinning out of control at every opportunity. 

Six.

Klaus wrapped his arms around himself, his right hand resting on his left shoulder Hello. Sky Soldiers. Hello Sky Soldiers. 

Luthor made a satisfied noise as he found the folder in question, drawing out the form and placing it on the ostentatious hardwood desk. At the door their mother watched silently, her default serene smile cemented to her face. Five took the paper, scanning it clinically as he held one of Reginald’s fountain pens in his hand. 

It looked expensive and Klaus wondered how he’d missed it during his first looting of the office. It had been only days ago technically speaking, but for Klaus nearly four years had passed. The siblings who had once been exactly the same age down to the hour were now staggered across a few years’ worth of experiences. 

Physically Klaus was the eldest, but mentally Five had half a decade of trauma over the rest of them. Sometimes Klaus caught his brother’s eyes and those decades seemed especially apparent. 

“We had forms very like this at the commission.” Five’s voice was high pitched and childish, but his intonation held the heaviness of his age. “The field agents use them to account for accidental collateral damage, it’s pretty standard paperwork. This one has a CIA stamp but otherwise it’s nearly word for word.”

For a moment the siblings were silent. The fabric of Allison’s dress slipped across her knees as she shifted, Diego leaned forward, peering over Five’s shoulder. 

“Creepy.” He pronounced, long hair falling down to brush his cheek. Klaus wondered if he was going to shave it all off again now that they were all back. “Did you have to do that a lot?” 

“No. I was never sloppy enough to need it.”

Klaus wanted a cigarette. He hadn’t smoked in three years, nothing, not even pot. After being spat out into 1960 he’d relied too much on Ben’s manifested abilities to get high, and after everything else cigarettes had hardly seemed worth it. Once Keechie had joined their group and started using charisma and psychobabble to push them all towards clean living Klaus had written nicotine off entirely to avoid losing control of the nebulous but extremely enthusiastic spiritual collective that had congregated around him. 

But the cult wasn’t there anymore.

Ben wasn’t there anymore.

He settled for biting his lip and mentally going over what he remembered of their father’s alcohol selection. At this point in life his memory was shot, but some things stuck out with obsessive clarity. He knew that there was top shelf vodka and gin behind the bar, scotch in the cabinet, ecstasy in his unicorn plushie, oxy in the infirmary, and a razor blade taped to the inside of the light fixture in the upstairs bathroom. 

He’d always had a good memory for escape routes, it was what had made him a good lookout in their childhood exploits. 

They filled out the paperwork in short order, and handed it to their mother to deliver. Even Five couldn't figure out who it would go to, but it was integrated into Grace’s programming and they collectively decided to trust her on this.

When they’d finished Allison hopped off the desk in a flurry of crinoline, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. 

“I’m going to get changed.” She said fingering the material of her skirt. “And then I need a drink.” 

Klaus smiled

“Way ahead of you.” 

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

They congregated by the bar. Klaus had poured for Vanya first before measuring out a shot for Five and himself. Diego and Luther hung back, looking at the bottles of liquor warily. Luther’s experiences with alcohol were limited to the one night days before the apocalypse, and if he’d had any feelings about that night he had yet to share them. Diego on the other hand had enough experience to know that he was better off if he avoided drinking in excess.

And he wasn’t shy about sharing his opinions.

“Really Klaus?” He looked disappointed, judgemental but not angry. 

“I already fell off the wagon Di, I might as well.” Klaus took the shot, Five and Vanya followed as Allison entered the room.

Her hair was pulled back and her clothes were much more modern.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you wear a t-shirt in years.” Klaus commented as she sat down. Their sister had changed into light wash jeans and a mustard yellow top. It was a sharp contrast from her extremely fashionable bespoke hollywood wardrobe, and the gorgeous dresses that she’d worn during their time in the past. She looked nice and Klaus wondered if he should follow suit. Wearing black felt right but he was getting chilly. 

He took another shot instead.

Diego finally shrugged, sitting beside Klaus at the bar and motioning Luther to follow him. Behind the bar Five rummaged for a moment before popping back up with a  satisfied expression and a green bottle. He poured himself a generous amount before sliding the bottle towards Allison and Vanya. Klaus could smell the familiar pine-y scent of gin. 

He poured himself another finger of vodka before passing the bottle into Diego’s waiting hand. 

“We should make a toast.” He said, mostly to fill the silence. Even surrounded by his siblings he felt alone, bereft of Ben’s familiar presence. 

“To what?” Luther asked, looking to Klaus as though he were expecting an order. For a man who had been raised to believe that he was a leader Klaus realized that Luther was absolutely most comfortable when following directions; whether the trait was a result of nature or Reginald’s grooming he couldn’t tell. 

“To Ben.” Vanya piped up, firm and confident in a way that she would have never been before. Klaus nodded.

“To Ben.”

[sleekervae]

Young God [0.3]

Despite the obvious connection she felt with Andy, the way they clicked, Taylor had told herself not to get attached to him, that they were strangers passing and that this week was probably the only time they would ever meet. But when she watched him on stage, when she observed him in his element, she forgot about all of that.

Even in his lanky nature, Andy was an explosion on stage, like a paint bomb going off in a white room. There was something about the way he hyped the crowd all the way through the set, his smile when he heard them singing back to him loud enough so that he didn't have to, the infectious joy she felt watching the band play -- according to their setlist -- Fallen Angels.

There was so much to explore in the spunk, the charisma, the effortlessness of his performance that accentuated his raw talent, his long hair in his face and eyes, his nose resting on the microphone as he sang into it, the way he leaned well over the stage, how he bent down in a passion-fueled growl, how he seemed to get lost in the moment and it was hard to believe she'd only known him a couple of hours because she felt so intrigued and interested by him, his mind, drawn to his presence.

When Black Veil Brides' show had come to an end, Taylor was jolted forward when Danny suddenly slapped her on the back. He held a grin like a proud parent watching his kids perform on stage, beaming with the energy that had just been expelled from the last forty-five minutes.

"Oi! What were that for?" Taylor scolded him, rubbing at her sore shoulder blade.

"Well, what'd ya' think?" he asked, completely ignoring her irritation at his actions.

Taylor grinned then as she stole another glance at the sweaty boys coming off their stage, "... Very loud," she chuckled, "Very impressive, though,"

Later on in the day Taylor found herself sitting under a white pop-up tent, guitar sat in her lap as young kids, probably ranging between the ages of 12 to 19 came funnelling in. They sat either on the grass or in folding chairs. Taylor's rhythm guitarist and best friend, Maxeen, was sat next to her. Her own nervous tension bounced off of Taylor's and reverberated around the small square space.

The heat radiating off the sun certainly was no comfort to them.

A close but discreet enough distance away were Danny and Ben, promptly joined by Andy and Ashley who they invited to come and watch Taylor's set. With a fresh cigarette in his fingers Andy watched with intrigue as Taylor balanced her scratched and sticker-covered acoustic guitar in her lap, strumming it a few times to tune it just to her liking. She inhaled deeply a few times as she watched the crowd grow to the size of the average school classroom. Her blue hair fell over her face just to be quickly tucked behind her ears. He could tell she was terrified.

Their mediator came to address the crowd, a taller, scruffier man with sleeve tattoos and a Hawaiian shirt. Taylor took another deep breath.

"Thanks so much guys for coming out to Warped Tour this year!" he announced, earning a few faded claps and whoops, "We brought out a very special guest for you all today. She's the newest budding rock act in England right now, and she was gracious enough to find time in her schedule to come and hang out with us this week!"

He then turned to Taylor and winked. She smiled politely.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm Warped welcome -- trying saying that ten times fast -- to Taylor Wray!" the mediator stepped away to another round of echoing applause.

Taylor took another deep breath as the clapping died down, "Yeh're all doin' alreyht, yeah?" she spoke softly, "Please forgive the accent," the unique zang of her Geordie accent brought a merry giggle to the audience. That was a small comfort at least. She looked to Maxeen, who nodded encouragingly and Taylor counted them in.

"Okay, one, two, three, four..."

The soft, haunting twang of her guitar floated through the airs, wafted pleasantly through Andy's ears as she started to sing. From the moment she opened her mouth her voice was golden, flowing like rich velvet with a raspiness that he found incredibly sexy. Her fingers plucked delicately at the string, and her brown eyes were focused on the worn out wood so as not to face the reality that she was really performing here. He noted how Taylor's knee trembled as she tried not to bounce from the nervous energy, or how she was glancing at her partner now and then for reassurance. She had to clear her throat once or twice before the next verse, but regardless she was unlike any specimen Andy had ever laid eyes on.

Yet as she sang, there was an underlying darkness to her. Perhaps it was the solemn emotion, or how her heartbroken poetry struck a chord within him. She had key phrases in her songs that had chills running down his spine. The crowd seemed just as taken with her as he was, sitting quietly yet their attention appeared undividing from Taylor's music.

"She's pretty good," Ashley mused, "Is she doing any stage shows?" he asked Ben.

"No," he huffed, "But you guys gotta' see her on the electric guitar. She goes insane!"

"Yeah!" Danny piped in, "She's even better then Ben!"

Andy snickered as the taller boy glared at his bandmate, but he shrugged nonetheless, "I'm not even gonna' argue with that one, actually. You're right," he chuckled.

Andy took another drag of his cigarette, "So how long is she here for?" he asked them.

"Rest of the week," Danny replied.

He and Ashley was surprised at that, "That's it? She's not doing the circuit?"

"We was lucky enough to get her out for a week," Ben said, "If we can get her signed to a label here, she could stay for longer next time,"

"So, where does she go to get signed?" Andy asked.

"Whoever wants her," Danny said, "Unfortunately, we haven't met a lot of labels who're interested in taking on a rocker bird like her. We just managed to talk our boss into signing her,"

"Fuck. They're loss, dude," Ashley scoffed bitterly.

From just behind the clouds the sun was able to come through, spotlighting a glow just behind the Englishwoman's head. The light made her hair appear platinum, shifting from dark and light wash blues with every little move that she made. When her song came to an end she finally opened her eyes, and her gaze fell on Andy himself. Near immediately her knee stopped trembling, and instead a soft smile wormed its way to her face.

Andy took another quick drag.

A sum of hours had passed. The night was beginning to christen the sky with hues of vibrant oranges that would soon fade out into encompassing purples and indigos. The last of the acts were going on stage and soon the festival would be cleaned up and packed off for the next destination.

In that time frame -- that of which Taylor hadn't kept track of -- she was sitting in the middle of Danny's flat and was refolding and packing her clothes for the venture tomorrow. Beside her was an ashtray with a sizzling joint. She felt calmer now then she had earlier, her first performance in America now checked off her list. Well, perhaps maybe half a check mark would've sufficed? An acoustic only show was blatantly boring to Taylor.

The front door suddenly swung open and Danny came jogging in, being the sole epitome of giddiness and stimulus. He was a little less put together from when she'd last seen him -- with greasy, messy hair and sweat-filmed skin; not to mention the brash odour of overworked body that followed him through the door.

"I've walked this road for hours

To the white hills, and the oceans I search for solace in this toxic land of sin Just let me in! Just let me in!"

Taylor smirked at his off-key, top-of-lungs singing, "I take it you had a good time," she said.

"It was great," he huffed, "We missed you afterwards,"

"Well, they didn't need me anymore," Taylor shrugged back, "Thought I'd come back and catch a few winks. Maxeen and Robin went out shopping,"

Danny ran a hand through his soggy hair and flopped down on the couch, "Well, you could've slept on the bus," he said.

Taylor scrunched her nose at the notion, "No offence, Dan, but I ain't putting me head on any of them surfaces in that bus of yours. I don't know what's touched the cushions,"

Danny started to laugh, "Tay, what do you think we do? Have a good wank before the show?"

"There have been stranger pre-show rituals," Taylor replied, "You gonna' shower? You smell like sweaty-dude-in-a-cheap-gym,"

"Yeah, I'm gonna' shower," Danny said, "What're you doing with your clothes?"

"Packing," she shrugged, "Where are we going tomorrow?"

"Ventura," he huffed, "Maybe see some talking animals? Perhaps we'll run into a particualr skillful animal detective?" he wiggled his eyebrows at her. Taylor shook her head with a chuckle.

"I've heard funnier, Danny," she said.

He gave a small hmph before snatching the joint out of the ashtray and taking his own drag, "Very well. You up for a night out?" he asked her then.

Taylor couldn't help but groan, her head was pounding at the thought, "Again, eh? Last night weren't enough for you?" she replied, hoping that he was just joking.

"Come on, we won't go crazy tonight. We're going to just drink beer and bullshit on the bus," he said, "If you want, you don't even have to do anything rough,"

Taylor stopped and stared up at him. Danny stared back too, right until they caught onto the same page and chuckled merrily, "That's what she said," they said in unison.

With that, Taylor stood up from the floor and did a quick stretch, throwing her hands over her head to pull out the knick that that formed in her lower back. Fuck, when did the floor get so hard?

"The guys from Black Veil are coming," Danny suddenly piped in.

With that mention, Taylor started to smile. Her exhaustion then was repleted with a small burst of energy, "Oh, yeah?"

Danny nodded happily, "Yeah! They liked your set. I mean -- Andy and Ashley did, anyway. I don't know where the other three were,"

"I didn't meet Ashley," she said.

"Well, now you can," Danny put the joint back down and went for his bedroom to freshen up, "What did you think of their show, love?" he called.

"You already asked me that!" Taylor replied.

"Yeah, but you weren't smiling the way you are now, you cheeky shit," she could just imagine the shit-eating smirk on Danny's face now.

"Oh, fuck off, Danny," she scolded back.

"I'm only teasing ya', Tay," Danny suddenly popped back out of his room, only donned in a pair of track pants, "I told him if he dares lay a hand on ya', I'll kill him,"

Taylor scoffed back, gawking at him up and down, "Danny, you're about as threatening as a beach ball," she told him.

"I have muscles though!" he replied, "Biersack's a twig,"

"What's your point?" she asked.

"You can fuck a beach ball," he replied, "A twig I reckon is unsavory,"

Taylor stared at him in near disbelief at his words, then she started to laugh, "Mate, what the fuck?" she exclaimed, "Tell me you haven't actually... like you didn't... like... wait, Danny," she stopped laughing then when she wondered if he was being dead serious in his analogy.

"I haven't, if that's what you're wondering," he said, "I wouldn't put it past Cam though. He might be small enough to fit it in the air hole,"

With teasing disappointment, Taylor grabbed one of her shirts and threw it at him. It missed him by a few inches, "You're sick!"

"I love you!"

Andy glanced through the top of his beer bottle, peering at what was left before he quickly down the rest and set the glassware aside with a few of the other empty bottles. Not solely all of his, to be clear. He was only half listening to Ben's drunken story which involved James, alcohol, nudity and a very pretty fan from one of their European shows. His fingers drummed on the armrest of the couch, glancing out the window now and again to see if he could spot Danny and Taylor somewhere in the night.

There was a new and unfamiliar excitement that coursed through him with every thought of Taylor. Never before had he been so taken by a woman like her; somebody who at first glance appeared so shy and quiet like a little church mouse, yet within her held a great and unequivocal power that hypnotized those who paid close enough attention to her.

He took another beer from the six pack and started to listen in.

"... and then I just look at this sad sack o' shit and go 'mate, I was just going to ask if you wanted to eat'," Ben's story had the other boys in stitches, apart from James who scowled and blushed profusely as that particular disdainful memory.

"I didn't think it was funny," he grumbled.

"You're just upset 'cause she didn't call you back the next day," Sam awed at him.

Cameron just shrugged nonchalantly with a swig of his own beer, "I didn't think she were that pretty. She were like one of 'em trashy Essex girls," he said.

"Well mate," Ben leaned over and patted James' shoulder reassuringly," when you've had as much to drink as James did that night, anybody's beautiful," The bus cracked up in drunken laughter again, the only being that seemed lit and raucous on a rather quiet night in the bus parking lot.

Meanwhile, Taylor squeaked and scampered off to the side to narrowly avoid being hit by Danny's mud splash, "Fuck off, Danny!" she cried, quickly checking to see if he'd stained her outfit. Not that she put much effort into it; only a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a white t-shirt with a pair of tits drawn on the front.

"Oi, simmer down, Tay. I'm only teasing with ya'," Danny wrapped his larger arm around her and proceeded to ruffle her teal blue hair, much to Taylor's chagrin.

"Yeah, you're just teasing with me," she wriggled out of his grasp, "Wanker,"

"My deepest apologies,"

They trudged through the field, reaching a park lot that was crammed to the brim with vehicles. Tour buses, equipment vans, jeeps and SUVs. They passed a larger bus decked out in black, with tinted window and a bright red stripe on its side. It loomed over and cast an imposing shadow over the three musicians, swallowing the gravel and grass beneath them in a pool of black. The ultra bright stadium lights set up around the park were the only stark contrast to the shadows, guiding them to their destination.

They finally approached the desired bus, jet black and donning the band's logo on the side in crisp Times New Roman. Danny knocked while Taylor waited anxiously behind. They waited only for a mere matter of seconds before a subtle click echoed through the air and the door swung open. Taylor was taken aback to see an older man standing before them, donning longer hair and an open denim vest. His arms were near-full sleeve tattoos, and he had a face that held this brooding, yet cute quality to it -- kind of like a grizzly bear.

"Ashley, mate!" Danny raised his hand and full-on bro-hugged the older lad, "Handsome at ever, man,"

"Back at you, dude," Ashley replied, his eyes then landed on Taylor and his smile grew.

"And it's nice to finally meet you, Taylor," he said, "I'm Ashley,"

Taylor smiled shyly and shook his hand, "Pleasure," she said, "Areyainthebandthen?"

Ashley's smile then faltered. He bent his head down as though he couldn't hear her, but in actuality he didn't think it was humanly possible for people to speak so fast and still hear them.

"Come again?" he said.

"She asked if it's your band," Danny said, "Tay's a Geordie, they have their own funny accent,"

"It ain't funny!" Taylor cried, "It's jus' unique,"

Ashely then nodded, "Okay... well, do you drink back in Geordie? Or whatever part of England you're from?" he then chuckled.

"Sure," Taylor replied, "In fact, I can drink Danny here under the table still do a perfect cartwheel,"

"Bullshit you could," Danny scoffed.

"We'll put it to the test inside," With that, Ashley stood back again, "Welcome to Warped Tour, Taylor,"

Taylor followed Danny inside with  Ashley taking up the rear. The first thing that hit Taylor was the distinct smell of charred nicotine and hops. The next was department store aftershave, the good shit though; not the cheap bottles her dad used to buy. Coming into the atmosphere of an actual tour bus felt somewhat claustrophobic and confining to Taylor, yet at the same time, she felt quite safe inside. Glancing out the tinted windshield she could see the world, yet they had no inkling of whether she was inside or not.

Aimless chatter and laughter struck her ears, some men and women. Taylor nervously pushed some of her hair behind her ear, forcing herself to put on a smile to engage new strangers. The bus was clean enough, just some pillows were awry on the couch and the countertop was littered with cans, bottles, and red cups. The Asking boys were sat around in company with a few other strangers she had yet to meet.

"Fellas!" Ben suddenly called when he spotted his friends, "The party has now begun!" he raised his arms to the side as though he were giving a church sermon. The three young strangers stood and greeted Danny, whilst Taylor hung back, looking aimlessly at her sneakers as the old friends got reacquainted. She then noted the rips in her jeans, showing off the several week-old bruises that freckled her knees. That was an occupational hazard, she always tried to look badass and slammed down on her knees during her guitar solos, effectively yet unintentionally harming herself. The crowd however seemed to love it.

"I'd like you guys to meet somebody," Danny interjected then, stepping back to let Taylor have the hot seat, "Meet the hottest new act in Britain,"

"Danny!" she scolded, abashed as red tinted her olive cheeks.

"What?" he shrugged, "Was I wrong?"

"He most certainly is not!" a lankier young man approached, with a long face and smudged makeup beneath his eyes that just seemed to burst with enthusiasm, "I'm CC,"

"Nice to meet ya'," she shook his head.

CC then turned to his friends, "And over here we got Jake and Jinxx," he pointed to two young men, dressed similarly to himself with floppy hair and old makeup stains, but they were brawnier, "And this bean dick on the couch is Andy,"

"Take a look in the mirror, dude," Andy scolded.

Taylor bit the inside of her lip when she saw him again, and she averted her eyes back to CC to avoid her cheeks growing any redder, "We've actually already met," she said.

"In that case," he then turned to the Asking boys, "Over here, we got Sam, Cameron and James --"

"Oh, shut up and have another drink, CC!" James exclaimed.

Taylor snickered quietly, "I think he's had plenty already," she said, noting the way this boy wavered slightly on his feet.

A few hours had passed into the night, mostly filled with alcohol-fuelled interactions and wild stories from early band days. Once having a few beers, Taylor found herself beginning to settle down around this metal band. They weren't as scary and wicked as her first impressions had told her, if anything they were complete nutters. It helped having Danny and Ben around, just so Taylor didn't feel so lost and out of place amongst them.

Taylor found herself snuggled between Danny and Ben, just listening as oppose to partaking in conversation. She was still so tired beyond anything she'd ever felt, and Taylor quickly regretted coming out tonight. She wondered what Maxeen was up to back in the motel room she'd rented, probably conked out to be well rested for the trip tomorrow.

From across the couch where she sat, Andy was perched on a beanbag, only semi-paying attention to Ben's story about a recent scuffle he had back in York as his eyes kept panning back to Taylor. There was an air of fatigue that floated over her head, her deep brown eyes slipping shut before popping open again at the slightest raise in volume. If she had just come from across the Pond, Andy didn't blame her for being so sleepy. Her teal-blue hair fell delicately around her shoulders, raising gently with every shallow breath she took. His eyes averted then to the holes in her jeans where her bruises were just peaking out. Subconsciously, he pressed down on the rib brace underneath his shirt.

Her glance suddenly shifted and her eyes locked with his, and she blushed when she noticed Andy watching her. She wiggled her eyebrows a few times and suppressed a giggle, a warmth flooded through her when he smiled back. His lips turned into a cocky smirk. Taylor was utterly perplexed by Andy; the cockiness he exuded was undeniable, but she couldn't help but think he was contrastingly soft at the same time, each consuming feature of him seemingly met with a delicate counterpart.

"Tay, you're falling asleep on me," Danny's voice suddenly wafted through her ears and she sat up at the sudden mention of her name. She blushed profusely when the others giggled at her shock.

"Sorry, babe," she mumbled, yawning into her fist. Andy raised his eyebrows and suppressed the snigger that was fighting to make its way out at the way she drawled her words, her accent unlike anything he had heard before.

"That's some accent you got there," Ashley said, near-reading Andy's mind.

"Got it from me ma, dear," Taylor drawled back.

CC then started to laugh to himself, clearly at a well-off point of intoxication, "Deea," he slurred, trying to mock Taylor's accent, "I like the way she says words," he said.

Taylor glanced at him with uncertainty, but she shook her head as she sat up and did al little stretch, "I assume that's a compliment," she said.

"It is," Jake confirmed with an apologetic nod, "So, where are you from in England, Taylor?"

"A little coastal town called Newcastle," she then averted her eyes to the sozzled CC, "We all speak funny there," she grinned.

"But she lives in London with me" Danny said.

"For now," Taylor pointed out, "Until I can afford to get my own flat,"

Cameron snickered, "It's gotta' be fucking awkward when his bird's over," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Taylor looked over at Danny, "Well, it would be nice if the walls were sound proof," she then looked to Ben, "Though it's nothing compared to when Ben comes over,"

"Aye, poor kid," Ben looped an arm around her, "She has to sleep with earbuds in the entire night," he smirked.

"We appreciate your support though, Tay," Danny smirked back.

Taylor refrained from rolling her eyes at their bromance, instead decided to fish her lighter from her pocket and stood up, "I'm gonna' nip out for a cig,"

Andy's mouth moved faster than his brain did, "Care for some company, darlin'?" he asked. Taylor raised an eyebrow at him. She suddenly realized that all of the boys were staring at her expectantly, and felt herself go flush again.

"Why not," she replied. Andy took that as an invitation and hopped to his feet, wavering a little as he struggled to find his balance. From there he grabbed a packet of cigarettes off the countertop and followed her to the bus door. Danny suddenly shouted after them.

"Have her back in ten minutes, Biersack!" he called in a threatening manner.

"Yeah!" Ben piped in, "Or we'll come find ya!"

Andy smirked at them, "I'm quaking," he mocked. Taylor rolled her eyes as they stepped outside. Much to her relief, the night air was warmer than what she'd come prepared for. She regretted wearing her thicker denim jacket. Andy blew strands of hair out of his face and shook his head, acclimatizing himself to the warmer air. The two of them sat on the grass, leaning against the side-trunk of the bus. Andy produced the cigarettes and Taylor pulled out the lighter.

"So," Andy exhaled, handing Taylor a cigarette, "Taylor Wray,"

Taylor grinned, "Andy... w-what's your last name again?" she asked as she placed the bud between her lips.

"Biersack," he replied.

"Oh," Taylor clicked the flame and lit the end of her cig, then handed the lighter to the long-haired rocker, "Is that European?"

"German," he replied, "Where does 'Wray' come from?"

"Scotland,"

"... But you're from England,"

Taylor gave him a wayside glance, "Their two parts of a whole, babe," she held up two fingers just to make her point.

Andy smiled sheepishly and took another drag, "... I knew that," he said.

Taylor giggled to herself. Her captivating smile and the tiny creases around her eyes as she laughed drew Andy in instantly. He wasn't sure if she was laughing from his meek comeback or it was just the alcohol doing it for her. But by God, the noise bubbling from between her lips was melodic and addictive from the first note.

"Have you ever been to England, Andy?" she asked.

"I was there about a month ago for the Download Fest," he replied.

"You went to Leicestershire?"

Again, Andy paused, grinning like a fool at her accent as he puffed away on his cigarette, "Yeah, we went to Leisheshire,"

"Leicestershire," Taylor corrected, "Le-shy-steh-shire,"

"Leshestasirw," Andy drawled, "Leshesham. Lesbian. Who gives a fuck?"

"People from Leicestershire, I'd imagine," to both Andy and Taylor's surprise, she started laughing again. She didn't know what had gotten into her suddenly, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Why was she so fucking giggly all of the sudden? It may have been the way Andy was looking at her; transfixed by his crystalline eyes that seemed to bore a hole right into her soul. Despite the hair covering his face, those eyes of his were so crisp and clear.

"Are you already plastered?" Andy asked, reigning his own grin of amusement.

"No!" she exclaimed just a tad too quickly for her own liking, "Look, I -- right. I have been drinking. That being said, I am also so fucking exhausted from this jet lag. So, please forgive me if I act like a fucking nutter,"

"A fookin' nuttah?" Andy mocked back, making Taylor giggle some more, "You're pretty cute, Taylor,"

"Well, you're not so bad, neither," she admitted shyly, "It's nice to see what that face looks like without the makeup,"

Andy took a drag and exhaled slowly. He held this electric charisma about him, seemingly so that it wouldn't matter how many times he'd verbally tear himself down, he was a cocky, confident young man.

"Did I freak you out today?" he asked.

"Hardly," she replied, her gaze dropping to the ink on his arms, "You have a lot of tattoos, eh?"

"Why, yes I do," he replied.

"You got a favourite one?"

He didn't reply. Instead, Andy raised his right arm, proudly showing off the Batman tattoo on his forearm, "Is now a good time to mention I'm a huge Batman nerd?"

"You could've fooled me," Taylor replied, shedding her jacket to reveal her bare arms, "I'm more of a Poison Ivy fan myself," she held her forearm out to proudly show off the dark green inking of an ivy vine, the inside filled with a dulled red.

"It's cute," he brushed his fingers over the delicate lines, only noting then how Taylor suddenly winced when he touched her. He pulled back, "Are you okay?"

"Your hands are freezing, mate," she chuckled.

Andy relaxed again, "I just naturally have cold hands, can't explain it," he grinned sheepishly.

Taylor brought her own cigarette to her lips, and out came three rings of silky grey smoke; an old trick she had picked up back home. Andy just watched, his own breath nearly getting caught in his throat when her lily perfume intermingled with the smell of charred nicotine.

"You showing off now?" he asked.

"Maybe," she shrugged back, leaning in closer so her nose just barely touched his. She was unsure just what had made her so brazen suddenly; perhaps the deadly combination of alcohol and fatigue had something to do with it. Whatever it was, Taylor found it undeniably exciting, "You got any secret talents of your own, Andy?"

Andy swallowed back whatever qualms he was holding on to, slowly memorizing every delicate detail of Taylor's face as though he was afraid to loose one mere second of her. However, before he could reply, they heard a shout come from above.

"Oi! You two!" they both looked up, and lo and behold, Danny and Ben had stuck their heads out of the bus window, "Get your arses back in here!" Danny exclaimed.

"You said we had ten minutes!" Andy replied, "Besides, you're no one's parent!"

"Yeah!" Taylor cried defiantly.

Ben tutted at them, "But we're morally responsible for Taylor. Ain't that right, honey?" he smirked.

"Oh, suck my dick, Ben!" Taylor replied, loud enough so that the others would hear her. With that, Andy burst into a fit of laughter, and more could be heard from inside the bus.

Danny shook his head, "How unbecoming of a lovely lady," he mocked.

Taylor looked to Andy, who was caught in the throes of hysterical amusement. She chuckled herself and took another quick drag before crushing the end into the grass, trying not to stare at him as he calmed down. But fuck, from the way he threw his head back to the curl of his lips when he smiled, Taylor felt herself falling into a rabbit hole she feared she wasn't going to crawl out from any time soon.

[goodlucktai]

look how long this love can hold its breath

king falls am word count: 5841 title borrowed from your love finds its way back by sierra demulder

read on ao3

x

The Sammy in this hospital room is a gentle creature. All his sharp edges are worn down. He sits beside the bed and holds Jack’s hand, and even though his clothes are torn and his hair is tangled and his face is gray with exhaustion, he doesn’t let go.

Five years, Lily had said. Five years.

And Sammy is here, not letting go.

The last time they spoke, Jack vacant and hurtful, Sammy with tears in his eyes, doubles as Jack’s last working memory of life before the dark. His stomach churns with nausea, remembering now what the shadows hadn’t let him see before: Sammy, struggling to help this new version of his fiance that didn’t want his interference, with no one to call for support because they didn’t have any family they were on speaking terms with or close friends they could trust, reaching out and reaching out and reaching out to Jack only to be turned away each time.

“Sammy,” Jack says. It comes out hoarse, as though he’s been screaming. “I’m so sorry.”

Sammy reaches over with his unoccupied hand, smoothing his thumb against the crease in Jack’s brow. He used to do that all the time, when Jack was doing their taxes or fixing a last-minute scheduling error, easing the frustrated lines of him soft again with a simple touch. Jack’s eyes go hot with tears.

“Don’t do that,” Sammy says quietly. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

He looks like he means it. Jack can’t make sense of that. It’s too good to be true. The whole tableau feels inches away from tipping over into uncanny valley, too much like a dream to be real life.

But before doubt can rear its head, Jack makes himself breathe.

Stop, he thinks fiercely, with all the strength he has left, the not-inconsiderable presence of mind that kept him sane in the Void. Be here.

Sammy is holding his hand, the cool band of his engagement ring glinting under the fluorescent light. Lily is heavy in her sleep and one of her earrings is digging into Jack’s shoulder through the hospital gown. In the chair behind her is a young woman Jack doesn’t know, talking in soft undertones to the town sheriff, who’s crouched beside her chair with his hat in his hands. There’s a curly-haired man propped against Sammy’s shoulder in much the same way Lily is propped against Jack’s, fighting sleep with every slow blink. The three of them are as dirty and disheveled as Sammy is. They all look as though they’ve been through hell and back.

Jack takes it all in; the presence of his family, the company of a few trusted strangers, the steady beep of the heart-rate monitor, the ambient smell of medicine and disinfectant.

It isn’t the Void. He doesn’t think it’s a dream. Strange and bright and not entirely familiar, but real all the same.

He squeezes Sammy’s hand and resolves to follow his example. Jack isn’t letting go this time, either.

Be here for him.

#

Home is a small two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a faded brick complex, and it’s where Jack goes when he’s finally discharged from the hospital.

The main living area is a total disarray of unfolded maps and loose leafs of paper and takeout containers, but no one seems to spare the mess any mind on their way through. Emily leads the way down the hall and pushes open one of the bedroom doors. Lily and Sammy deposit Jack on a bed dressed in a rich red comforter. Ben wrings his hands in the doorway and makes noises about ordering pizza for lunch.

“Get over here where you belong, Benny,” Emily says, not unkindly. Ben needs no further encouragement, crossing the room at a sprint and then slowing down dramatically to pick his way gingerly onto the bed, as close to Sammy as he can get. “I think we’ve had enough pizza to last us a calendar year. I’ll call Mary. She said she wanted to bring us lunch.”

Sammy lifts his head. He’s pale and gaunt and the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing in the goddamn world. Jack can’t help but stare at him, even though it makes Lily roll her eyes and mutter something that sounds like ‘some things never change.’

“Her famous ham and biscuit casserole?” Sammy asks with more than a little hope.

Emily tugs at Sammy’s loose ponytail playfully. “It’s only famous because you talk about it on the show every night.”

“Avoiding the question,” Ben interjects.

“You hush.” She leans over to kiss him on the cheek, then Sammy, then Lily in quick succession. She pauses at Jack, absorbs the probably-bewildered look on his face, and settles for squeezing his hand warmly. “Get settled. I’ll call her. And make the apartment look habitable before she gets here, I suppose.”

“I’ll help,” Lily says, pushing herself off the crowded bed. “Might as well. I gotta make a call, too. I’ve kind of been putting it off. Mom is not going to believe this.”

She wraps an arm around Jack’s shoulders and squeezes him hard. Sammy gets the same treatment, though it manages to look antagonistic, since it’s them. Ben gets an affectionate shove. And then the girls move into the main room together, talking quietly as they close the door behind them.

“Can I be real for a second?” Ben says, all wide, guileless eyes. “Just totally off-the-record real?”

Sammy sighs. Jack may be out of practice, but he thinks he can still read Sammy pretty well, and this put-upon thing he’s trying to do with his expression doesn’t fool him for a second.

“It's probably pointless to tell you ‘no’. It has been every other time.”

“Dude,” says Ben, visibly not playing along. “You need to sleep.”

Worry clenches like a fist in the pit of Jack’s stomach. He thinks back on the almost-week he lived in the hospital and can’t seem to come up with even one vague recollection of Sammy so much as dozing off beside Jack’s bed.

Jack disappeared on him once. The idea that it could happen again must be a source of terror, even here, in this cozy room filled with golden afternoon sunlight. Sammy’s mind has always been something of a bear trap, liable to spring on him at any moment. His anxiety can’t have gotten any better after all of this.

“Sammy,” Jack says, gripping his arm. “Didn’t I see the sheriff cut you off from coffee yesterday? Don’t you think that’s a sign?”

“That was just Troy,” Sammy says, all but waving it off. “He worries.”

“He cares,” Ben contests hotly. “I’ll call him and make him make it illegal for you to get less than eight hours of sleep a night, and he’d do it. You know he would. At the very least he’d come over and make disappointed faces at you, which is practically the same thing.”

Jack likes Ben. He likes how clearly Ben telegraphs his love. It’s so loud and obvious that even someone like Sammy must be able to see it. Jack spares himself a moment of breathless gratitude that Ben is here.

“Illegal, Sammy,” Jack reiterates.

“Wow, it’s been, like, five minutes and you two are already tag-teaming me. Fantastic.”

But his eyes are shining, like he might cry, and his smile more than makes up for the tired shadows left on his face. He looks so happy to be here, to exist in this moment, between the two of them, beneath their hands.

“How about a quick nap before lunch?” Jack suggests. “I’m sure Lily will wake us up for food. She’s always had a gentle touch.”

Sammy laughs like it was startled out of him. Ben grins at Jack over Sammy’s shoulder, a grin that makes Jack think Ben likes him, too.

And maybe Jack ought to be surprised that Ben lays down to nap with them, that Sammy’s arm curls snug around Ben’s back to keep him from falling off the edge of the bed, but he isn’t. He reaches over Sammy to make sure the comforter is covering Ben, too, as easily as if he’s done it a hundred times. Sammy catches Jack’s hand when he’s done, folds it against his chest, and looks at him with love.

“Thank you,” he says. He means thank you for the blanket. He means thank you for a lot more than that.

Five years, Jack thinks. That’s a lot of time to make up for. This is a good place to start.

Jack leans in to kiss him.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart,” he says softly. Sammy melts. Ben squirms with happiness, aglow at their affection. “We’ll be right here.”

Jack doesn’t sleep. He feels as though he’s slept enough for three lifetimes. He lays awake, instead, watching Sammy finally give into exhaustion, his cheek pressed against Jack’s shoulder, Ben’s head tucked under his chin. Emily peeks in some time later and smiles when she sees them. She doesn’t look surprised, either.

“Lunch is in an hour,” she whispers. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” Jack whispers back, his heart clenching at the truth of it. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

#

There are a lot things Jack is struggling to wrap his mind around—King Falls is everything he had hoped it would be, a paranormal hotspot where UFO abductions, ghosts and lake monsters are the norm—but somehow it’s the comparatively mundane that trips him up the most.

Back in LA, Jack and Sammy weren’t exactly a part of a community. They got along with the guys at the station as well as they had to. They chatted in the break room, and went out for drinks when they didn’t have a decent excuse at hand to get themselves out of it, but generally they were happy just to go home. Call it an early night and shed their work personas at the door and make dinner together, touching casually and kissing often, to make up for all the opportunities they missed throughout the day.

But Sammy is a fixture in King Falls. His finger is on the pulse of this town, he and Ben heavily involved in community affairs and local politics. Their early morning talk show is a staple, and one of the first sources the people turn to for by-the-second news and honest reporting, or even just for friendly conversation on those nights when sleep isn’t forthcoming.

Before the shadows took him, Jack’s interest in the scenic mountain town was all his own; enthusiastic, kind of goofy, liable to make Sammy roll his eyes. It’s kind of ironic that while he never had any desire to visit this town, he’s the one who ended up carving a place for himself here.

More than anything, it’s a relief.

“I’m just glad to hear it,” Jack confides in Lily. “That he’s okay, you know?”

Lily’s face does something complicated, her mouth twisting into a frown.

“He wasn’t, really. He is now, but he wasn’t, Jack. Neither of us were. There’s a reason Arnold moved Sammy into his apartment. There’s a reason I'd camp on their couch now and then.”

Jack has no idea what his face must look like, but it causes Lily to set her cup down and reach for his arm.

“Hey,” she says sternly. “It’s fine now. Sammy almost did something really fucking stupid, and maybe if he’d been alone for the last five years, he would have. But he didn’t. He wasn’t. He’s got a lot of people here who love him an insane amount, and… and so do I.”

This is remarkably open for his sister, who has always played her cards close to her chest. It’s how Jack can tell she means it. It’s how he knows how badly he fucked up by being gone.

Lily wasn’t a part of his life at the time he fell into the Void, but Sammy was. Sammy made his home with Jack. They made each other so many promises and Jack managed to break every one.

“Hey,” Lily snaps. “Don’t freak out. It wasn’t your fault, and it’s over. You’re here now. So be here.”

A knock on the doorway into the living room startles Jack into looking up. Ben grins at him, wearing Emily’s yellow hoodie and one of Sammy’s overly large knit hats. He looks ridiculous, and Jack’s first impulse is one of immediate, unrelenting fondness.

“If this is a conversation about how much you love each other, or how much you love me, then take your time,” Ben says glibly. “If not, then we’re going shopping. Our fridge is totally empty and I’m not okay with it. You guys, it’s been like a week since Sammy’s made overnight oats. It’s— we can’t live like this anymore. Don’t tell him I said this, but I’m at the point where I’d do things I’m not proud of for his zucchini lasagna, and I don’t even like zucchini.”

Lily snorts, letting go of Jack. “You don’t like anything that’s good for you. That’s why you’re four feet tall.”

“A short joke,” Ben gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. “It’s been, like, six minutes since the last one. I was getting really worried.”

“Get the hell out, Arnold. And buy some more of those frozen pancakes.”

“Hah, as if. We’re talking fresh produce and that shaved deli meat you have to get at the counter, and, like, I don’t know, almond milk.” Ben bounces on the balls of his feet, thrumming with energy. “Jack in the Box Jesus, I’ve never been this excited about almond milk. Coming, Jack?”

It’s absolutely unsurprising that Sammy is the one who does the bulk of the cooking, because that’s kind of always been his love language. Just because Jack has missed out on the last five years doesn’t mean they haven’t happened for everyone else.

A little bittersweet, but also something of a relief: Sammy still makes overnight oats, probably in those little mason jars that are such a pain to get clean. The life Jack is coming back to isn’t so different from the one he was taken from.

“Yeah, I’ll come along,” Jack says, pushing himself out of his chair. He can’t help ruffling Ben’s perpetually-ruffled hair as they collect Sammy from the living room. There’s a lot he has to be grateful for; a lot of people he has to thank.

Since the girls did the cleaning, they gleefully wash their hands of the shopping. Lily promises to keep Emily company, with a kissy face that makes Ben’s face flush with rage that’s probably only partly a joke, and Sammy steers him out the door with the evident prowess of someone who’s been on the job for years.

It’s late when they finally head out. Sammy and Ben are used to keeping odd hours because of the show, and Jack’s sleeping schedule is all kinds of messed up these days. Sammy smiles at Jack as they fall into step down the sidewalk and reaches for his hand, threading their fingers together as easy as breathing.

They walk all five blocks like that, like there’s nothing to hide. Jack’s heart pounds the whole time.

The supermarket is well-lit, a beacon in the fading orange dusk. The sheriff’s pickup truck is in the parking lot and they run into him in the freezer aisle. Troy is broad-shouldered and barrel-chested but his face is absurdly kind. When he sees the three of them, he breaks into a grin.

“Well, shoot!” He sets his basket down and hurries over, clapping Jack on the shoulder as warmly as if they’ve been friends all their lives. “It’s a pleasure to see you out and about, Jack! How you feelin’?”

“Better every day,” Jack says honestly, smiling back at Troy like a knee-jerk reaction. “Thanks for everything, man.”

Troy stopped in at the hospital every day, on his way to work or on his way home. He’d usually come bearing food; a bag of burgers, or deli sandwiches, or takeout from the only Chinese place on the edge of town. All their usual orders, and usually something for Jack, too, if the nurses let him get away with it. It’s obvious that he’s one of those people Lily mentioned; one of the ones who have been here for Sammy when he… wasn’t okay.

Troy moves on to haul Sammy and Ben into a playful embrace at the same time, one in each arm. They’re totally blocking the aisle but it’s late enough that they’re practically the only ones in the store.

“Now, what’s this I hear about you not sleepin��, Sammy Stevens?” Troy asks sternly once he’s released them both.

Sammy turns on his heel to glare daggers at Ben, who suddenly decides the frozen broccoli is the most interesting thing in the store.

“Hey now, don’t you go lookin’ at him like that. I asked Ben to keep me in the know. Lord knows you take a lot of looking after.”

“I’m fine, Troy,” Sammy says in the tone of someone who has said it a thousand times. “It’s just been a rough few weeks.”

“A rough few years,” Jack interjects, not unkindly.

He wants to take Sammy’s hand again, but he’s abruptly, irrationally afraid to. Jack has spent the majority of his life in the closet, and just because people in this town know him as Sammy’s missing fiance doesn’t mean he’s mentally overcome that fear of being found out.

Jack wonders how Sammy did it. He makes a mental note to ask.

For now, he reminds himself of Troy’s kindness and the role he played in bringing Jack out of the dark, he reminds himself of Ben’s easy love and immediate acceptance, he reminds himself of the five years he missed out on, and it’s enough. For now, it’s enough.

He takes Sammy’s hand. Sammy looks like he knows at least half of how hard it was, and the stubborn lines of his body relent.

“Ugh,” he mutters, squeezing Jack’s fingers. “Everyone’s ganging up on me again. This is gonna get old.”

“Sure, in about a billion years,” Ben says cheerfully.

They all do the rest of their shopping together, and Sammy only lets go of Jack’s hand for a few minutes at a time, to pick through tomatoes and heads of lettuce and all the other things he’s particular about. Everything else is Ben’s job.

When they’ve finished at the self-checkout, Ben says, “Troy, you wanna come over for dinner?”

“Nah, I gotta get home to the missus,” Troy tells them. “But we’re meeting up at Ron’s on Saturday for a barbecue, and y’all are gonna be there if I gotta pick you up myself. Now, do you boys want a ride home? You got enough grub there to feed an army.”

They pile their groceries into the bed of the pickup, and Ben calls shotgun, clambering into the front passenger seat of the double cab. Sammy rolls his eyes so hard Jack is distantly worried he’s going to sprain something, and climbs into the back passenger seat behind him.

Troy stops Jack from following with a gentle hand on his elbow.

“I just wanted to say something,” he says, his voice gentling so they’re not overheard. “I know this has been a big ol’ mess, and I’m sorry about the particulars of why you came to be here, and I know there’s a lot you’ve gotta get yourself used to before you can start thinking of calling King Falls home. But…” Troy rubs the back of his head, looking as though he’s worried about picking out the right words, for all that he’s utterly sincere. “We all think of Sammy as one of our own, y’know? And now that you’re here, you’re one of ours, too. If there’s ever anything you need, or someone you need to talk to ‘bout something you can’t bring to your family for whatever reason, you come right to me, and I’ll do my best to make it right. That boy loves you somethin’ awful, and it ‘bout killed me to find out how badly he’s been hurtin’ without you. I don’t want him, or you, to hurt like that again. There, I said my piece.”

Jack blinks rapidly, dimly aware of the tears in his eyes. That’s probably the kindest thing anyone has ever said to him, and for no other reason than they wanted to. Troy shuffles his feet and looks like he’s only barely not reacting to Jack’s tears, and Jack has a pretty good idea what that reaction is shaping up to be.

Jack wipes his eyes on his sleeve, and makes a vague gesture with his other hand. Troy says, “Aw, hell,” and hugs him.

“I hope them are happy tears,” the sheriff adds, sounding a little choked up himself.

“Yeah,” Jack muffles against his jacket. “Sorry. Thank you. For everything. For Sammy, and for—for everything.”

It’s hardly enough, but for now, it’s all Jack can do.

#

On Saturday evening, they head out for a barbecue and end up at the Bait & Tackle shop down by the lake. Jack is confused up until he climbs out of the car, and sees the picnic tables all dressed up, and the busy grill roasting burgers and brats, and the mountain of a man in cut-off shorts who comes bearing down upon them the second they arrive.

Sammy squawks as Ron Begley sweeps him into a crushing embrace, and Jack thinks, Ah.

“It’s about damn time you come see me,” Ron says. “Ben, get your ass over here.”

Ben submits to his hug willingly, and when it’s Emily’s turn she leans up to kiss Ron on the cheek. Jack steps forward because Ron looks willing to drag him in by the collar if he doesn’t, and Ron tugs him into a one-armed hug that feels much gentler than Sammy’s had looked. Lily dodges the whole scene with a jaunty salute and follows the smell of the food toward the picnic tables.

“Troy told me he already said most of what we’re feelin’,” Ron says gruffly. “But I’m gonna second it. This boy of yours has never done anything but stick his neck out for the rest of us, even when he was hurtin’ so hard he didn’t know up from down, and I’ll be damned if I don’t return the favor.”

“Ron,” Sammy interjects, coloring.

“You hush or I’ll make you go out on a boat to feed Kingsie her lunch,” Ron says shortly. “I’ve been waitin’ to meet Jack for ages and I got plenty of things to say.”

“Can’t it wait till after supper, Ron?” Emily asks politely, her low, sweet voice a weapon she’s happy to wield for her friends at the drop of a hat. “We haven’t eaten all day to save room.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ron doesn’t look fooled in the slightest, but he waves them on with a pointed look at Jack that promises a conversation later. Jack finds himself looking forward to it.

The next time they’re accosted it’s by an old man named Herschel, who blusters and cusses and does a lot of complaining about the general state of things, but somehow in the midst of all that he manages to get the point across that Sammy and Ben are ‘his boys’ and he’s happy that Jack has returned.

Two young kids run ahead of Mary and Tim Jensen, attaching themselves to Sammy at the waist and talking over one another, only peeling away when they spot Ben standing behind him. Emily explains quietly that Sammy and Ben did a lot of babysitting for Mary after Tim was taken by the rainbow lights, on top of everything else they did.

Mary pats Jack on the cheek with one weathered hand, someone who understands how hard it is to lose the love of your life into thin air, and kindly doesn’t say anything that would make Jack cry in front of everyone. Sammy returns her casserole dish, waxing poetic about that ham bake she brought over earlier in the week as he does, and instigates this hug himself.

Troy and his wife Loretta wave Jack over to their table, and he goes gladly, relieved to see a familiar face in this crowd of well-meaning strangers.

“They mean well, but we’re all so excited to finally meet you they can't help but turn into a mob,” Loretta says apologetically. She holds up a can of beer in one hand and a can of lemonade in the other, both beading with condensation from their time in a drink cooler at her feet, and Jack takes the lemonade. “You just wait until everyone’s stuffing their faces, and talk will turn to somethin’ else.”

She’s right. Once all the food has been brought over on big serving trays and everyone is sitting in front of heaping paper plates, Herschel says, “When are you two gonna start up your racket on the radio again?”

“Soon, probably,” Ben says easily enough, leaning bodily over Emily to steal a pickle off of Sammy’s plate. “Sammy still has separation anxiety, so Jack’ll probably have to camp out in the studio with us.”

Sammy flips him off, and Emily says, “As if you weren’t the exact same way with me, Benny.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Jack interjects. “I love radio work.”

“That’s right, you produced Sammy’s show back in LA,” Troy says. “I’ll bet you miss it, huh? You know, there’s bound to be some work for you at the station if you want it.”

At the mention of LA, Jack thinks of something he’s been meaning to ask about.

On the way home, he says, “Whatever happened to our house?”

The car goes quiet. Emily darts a glance at the two of them in the rearview mirror; Ben turns fully around in his seat. Sammy looks a little thrown by the question, and more than a little uncomfortable.

“Your house? In California?” Ben asks.

“It’s still there,” Sammy says. “It didn’t go anywhere. Most of our stuff is in storage, though.” As if sensing imaginary judgement from his friends, Sammy’s shoulders hunch and he goes on, “What was I supposed to do? Sell it? I—we—still have a mortgage.”

“You’ve kept it all this time?” Jack asks. He’s not sure what he’s feeling. “Did you want to go back there someday?”

Ben’s grip on his seat goes white-knuckled. Emily turns the radio down. Lily got a ride home with Katie, which turned out to be a fortunate thing, or this conversation might have gone even worse.

Sammy says, “I want—” and falters. He seems to have to muster his courage, as if being honest with his wants in front of the three people who love him most in the world is a feat of strength and daring. “I want to stay in King Falls.”

It almost sounds like an apology. He looks sidelong at Jack, as if he’s sorry they ended up here, even though it’s Jack who started them down this road in the first place.

“There are people here I’d be totally lost without,” he goes on. “And I—and Ben is my—there’s not a good word for what Ben is to me. I don’t want to go anywhere without him.”

Jack’s heart is up in his throat. He turns Sammy’s face towards his, stroking his jawline with the pad of his thumb. “Hey, baby, it’s okay. If this is where you belong, then it’s where I belong, too. No questions asked.” He waits until the tension has bled from Sammy’s spine, until the lines of stress are gone from his face, to add, “I got to feed a lake monster today. That changes a man.”

Ben laughs, loud and bright. Sammy reacts predictably. “You went out on a boat with Ron and dumped some dog food into the water. At best you fed a bunch of opportunistic trout.”

“I’m just saying, I’m completely sold on King Falls,” Jack tells him with a grin. “Even if meeting all your friends didn’t do the trick, Kingsie would have.”

Later, Jack will ask why Sammy kept the house if it wasn’t for a place they could someday return to.

Sammy will go quiet for a few minutes, eyes focused on something he’s not really seeing. He’ll be twisting his engagement ring around on his finger. He’ll finally admit that both of their names were on the house. When he got a letter in the mail from the bank, it was a little reminder that Jack had been real. Their life together had been real. The house was proof of what Sammy used to have, and he didn’t want to give it up.

He needed the reminders, he’ll say. He wasn’t okay.

The bedroom is quiet and dark, but not in a way that inspires any lingering fear of the Void. This apartment is a comfort, the last safe bastion on a crumbling wall, and Sammy is right beside him, hair a messy halo around his head, eyes wide and shining in the low light from the window.

“Actually, can you, um,” Sammy says. His voice is so quiet that Jack might have missed it if he wasn’t looking at him, if their faces weren’t inches apart. “Can you tell me you love me? Please? I know you do, I know, but I want—I need to—”

Five years in the Void wasn’t as painful as this. For a moment, Jack can only stare at him, aching.

When he moves, there’s a split-second of fear that darts across Sammy’s face like an animal startled across a road, an aborted motion of his hand as though he’d reach out to stop Jack from leaving him if it would do any good.

Jack hates that fear on his face, hates that there’s any reason for it.

He rolls Sammy underneath him, the weight of his body pressing Sammy’s into the mattress; the way they used to lay when Sammy’s anxieties were tearing his mind to shreds, when he needed that tether to what was present and what was real.

The air goes out of Sammy. His hands slide up Jack’s waist and under his T-shirt, pressing into the small of his back. His next breath shudders.

How long has he needed to hear it?

“I do love you,” Jack tells him, more certain about that then he is about literally anything else in the world. He kisses Sammy, long and deliberate, until he can hear Sammy’s pounding pulse begin to slow. “I love you more than anything in the world. I’m sorry you went so long without hearing it,” he goes on, mouth moving against Sammy’s lips, feeling the tears on Sammy’s face, feeling his knees come up to bracket Jack’s body even closer. “I’m sorry you had to wonder. I’ll tell you a hundred times a day from now on. I love you, Sammy Stevens. I’m going to marry you.”

Sammy sobs, and frees his hands to throw his arms around Jack’s neck, and holds him close. He must have been dying to hold him this way for so long. Jack goes on kissing him wherever he can reach, his cheek, his brow, his jaw, the soft space behind his ear.

“I love you,” Jack vows. “I do.”

#

During breakfast a few weeks later, they’re eating in the living room because there’s a bunch of mail on the table no one wanted to deal with. The overnight oats taste exactly the same as Jack remembers and he savors every bite.

Emily clears her throat, sets her food aside, and produces a folder.

“What’s up, Em?” Ben asks.

He and Sammy are both crammed into the armchair, because they’re children and couldn’t agree who got to sit there. Ben uses his proximity to steal blueberries out of Sammy's oats, even though he had insisted on peanut butter for himself when Sammy put them together yesterday. Despite his lengthy complaints, Sammy has an arm looped around Ben to keep him from falling.

Jack loves them both an absurd amount.

“I’ve been looking into real estate,” Emily says without preamble. “A house big enough for our family, with room to grow.”

“Ohh!” Ben says, lighting up. He tries to wriggle in excitement and only succeeds in elbowing Sammy in the stomach. “That’s a great idea! We should have thought of that sooner!”

Sammy darts a quick look at Jack, assessing his reaction.

“I helped pick them out,” he says gently. Sammy’s smile is a shaky, delighted thing.

“There are actually a few options that might suit us,” Emily says, laying out photos on the coffee table pragmatically. She’s biting down on a smile, obviously excited by the prospect of a home together, one that’s equally for each of them. “Jack and I put a smiley on the back of the one we liked best.”

It’s the one that Sammy and Ben gravitate towards, too. A handsome split-level four-bedroom house out by Sweetzer Forest, with a vaulted living room, wide bay windows and a furnished basement. There was a big fireplace that Jack could already imagine spending long evenings in front of, and a roomy kitchen for Sammy to work his magic in, and a guest room for Lily when she inevitably makes her way back to Washington every other weekend.

And maybe, someday, their family would be even bigger.

Ben trades one of those speaking looks with Sammy, flips the paper over, and hoots when he sees the little red smiley. He’s always all-in when it comes to the four of them, always enthusiastic to talk about a future that keeps them together.

“When can we go see it?” he asks eagerly. “I know you, Em. You made an appointment, didn’t you?”

She laughs, folding her hands over her heart. “Of course I did, Benny. We can go see it this afternoon.”

“Whose names are going on the house?” Sammy asks, flipping through additional pictures of the floor plan. The fact that he’s already darting ahead to the particulars is proof enough that he’s invested in the idea, too. “Usually they only allow two.”

“That’s heteronormative and I won’t stand for it,” Ben announces. “They’ll sign all of us or I’ll call the cops.”

Sammy says, dryly, “You can’t just use Troy to harangue mortgage lenders into a nontraditional loan agreement.”

“Troy would volunteer!”

Jack has a solid grasp on the shape of things in this town, so he says, “And if that didn’t work, we could just call in Herschel.”  

Ben and Sammy are both startled into laughter at the idea of setting that cantankerous old man on some poor, unsuspecting real estate agent, and Emily meets Jack's eyes from her side of the couch. Her expression is fierce with love when she reaches for Jack's hand, and he takes it firmly.

God, Jack thinks, it's so good to be here.

[lesserfandomappreciation]

do you think you could do Princess Looma Red Wind's reaction to facing a future human S/o in had to hand combat and this S/o had (saitama muscles build) and they fought for a long time taking up most of the day and in the end, they ended on a draw?

First Ben 10 ask, woo!

Princess Looma Red Wing vs. Saitama-level human s/o (Ben 10)

Challenges of every kind must be accepted. That is the way of her people. As Princess to the strongest of the universe Looma leads by example on this and does not turn away a challenge be it from a strong opponent or what is probably a very lost, very bullheaded human. A challenge to hand to hand? Very well then, prepare to be defeated!

Possibly. She’s not used to not winning within the first 5 minutes of a fight. 

This fight attracts crowds no matter where it takes place. The princess of a warrior race fighting someone is a spectacle. The princess of a warrior race fighting someone who can actually stand up to her, a human no less, is jaw-dropping. 

Looma herself finds whatever shock/awe she was feeling at the start turning into frustration and a bit of respect for her opponent. She’s not an easy enemy to fight. Yet here they are matching her blow-for-blow, hours on end, still standing up to fight. Her interest is piqued.

Hours drag by and by the end of it they’re both exhausted. It’s a third party judge who has to call the fight a draw - her pride and s/o’s stubbornness would easily kill the both of them, and there’s no honor in death by exhaustion. 

The princess bows her head, clapping a strong arm on their back. “You fight good, for a human. Next time we’ll see who gets the upper hand!”

There’s going to be a next time, she’ll see to that. No way is she letting possibly the only human this strong leave her without a second brawl. 

[chilly-me-softly]

Moments of Life• Eric Dier

Gosh this has been haunting me for days now and I needed to get it out of my system 😅

Eric's coming home for a few days. No particular reason, just a few days to relax that he had almost immediately decided to spend with his family. His siblings had accepted almost immediately, looking forward to spending time together again and so who at a time who at another in those days he would finally see everyone again. His mother's heart had burst with joy when she was told about it, because it had been agreed to tell her and not to surprise her. No one would have wanted to spend those days in the hospital or to see the woman crying in every corner of the house - which would have happened anyway, but with moderation.

Eric doesn't even have to knock on the door, his mother is already on the porch waiting for him to park and get out of the car as quickly as possible to wrap him in her arms. The woman almost disappears into his arms but she's undoubtedly the one more strong at the moment.

"Your siblings are all inside already, those rowdy ones have all arrived together" he giggles taking his mother's face in his hands and wiping her cheeks with his thumbs, before leaving a kiss on them. "I missed you, mom"

And after the greetings he finally glimpses a new face, and it doesn't take him long to get close while the others continue to talk, creating chaos in that room.

"Hi, I'm Eric" he holds out his hand graciously as he studies you with those eyes of his, the foreign girl his parents had decided to take with them accepting a kind of cultural exchange because the house was too quiet since everyone had left the nest and got bored. And in the last few phone calls they had spoken more about you than about his own children, so he was dying to meet you and see if the idea he had of you came close to reality.

"I'm the one who occupies your bed" his laughter fills the room as your eyes open almost immediately, "Shit, sorry I'm sorry. It sounded better in my head" he didn't even arrive and you've already made yourself known, great. And your hands are still clutching each other and when you realize it, you smile embarrassedly as you loosen your grip.

Every room in that house is crowded at any time of the day, you can't find a quiet place to relax. You tried to hide in the bathroom, but one of the guests needed it - or guys, since you are the guest - and you had to get out. You didn't have a very large family, a brother a few years older than you who had followed his own path and you had always been on your own in your room or in the apartment that the university made available and now in the home of two complete strangers who apparently had a very large and very close family.

Although you were feeling very tired from the night before, you woke up as early as you were used to. Enjoying the peace and quiet reigned in that house. The moment you leave the bathroom, a door a little further away opens and Eric leaves the room he shares with one of his brothers.

You smile at him when your eyes meet, "Sleep well?" you nod leaving the bathroom door knob and approaching him who's doing the same.

"Your bed is the most comfortable, that's why I chose it" you shrug, as soon as you arrived his mother had asked you to choose the room you liked because they were all empty and there would be no problem. So you spent the next few minutes testing the beds and the woman agreed with you when you told her you had chosen Eric's room just for the bed, confessing that she sometimes used it for that reason too. Not because she missed her babies.

It took you a while to fall asleep despite the tiredness though because your guilty feeling of taking over the boy's room got the better of you until you collapsed exhausted. You bickered with him for a good hour that same night because it was his room so he had every right to have it back, but the boy had stuck his neck out. He was only going to be there for a few days, you were going to live in that house for at least the next year so he kind of sent you to his room and settled in his brother's one.

And you made yourselves tea, sitting across from each other around the kitchen table, taking advantage of the silence that would disappear soon. Everything came naturally, the talking, the laughter, the looks, the smiles. And in those days you had spent so much time locked in your/his room, he would come in with the excuse of having to look for something he wanted to take home and then end up with him lying with his arms crossed behind his head to hear you babbling about fashion and your dreams. Or seeing some movies or just enjoying each other's while you were doing different things.

"Good morning" a sleepy Eric rubbing his eye smiles at you while you're getting closer and he doesn't have time to put his brain to work that you're kneeling in front of him. He holds his breath as long as he can while you're babbling on something he can't probably understand right now.

"There you go, now you're good. See you downstairs" but he's not good at all, he locks himself quickly in the bathroom before releasing a deep breath and throwing water in his face. His hands cling to the sink until his knuckles turn white as his breath gets heavier and heavier and he's getting water drops down his neck "Oh god"

*

"Hello boys! I'm here at your service again" a bright smile on your face when you set foot in that room and the boys' heads turn to you. Laughter and smiles across the room as you put everything you've brought along and will need to take suites size for the team.

Years after that meeting and your paths never drifted apart. Eric found himself visiting his parents very often and most of the time it was just to see you, but still. That room had seen a lot, although the other rooms were empty again more times his mother found you sleeping together or laughing together. And in short, if she could see her baby, she didn't care who he came in the first place for. Because when he was there he also made sure to give the right attention to his parents, and the woman could not be more than happy about it.

Then you had finished university and started looking for a job - you left that house with great regret shortly afterwards, Eric's proposal too tempting not to accept it - starting in local tailors who had taught you so much until you came to Hugo Boss. Your lifelong dream, to work for a big brand. And in the beginning it was more about bringing coffee and cleaning the floor full of sequins and colorful threads. Then you were able to find your way - be in the right place at the right time or destiny - and show the talent you have.

"So who's first?" when you knew Hugo Boss was going to be one of Tottenham Hotspur's sponsors, you did everything in your power to get the job. And you head department was more than happy not to have to beg someone to do it - and honestly you still don't understand how working with a bunch of players isn't the job that every girl in there dreams of doing. You were trying to do your job as professionally as possible, perhaps the fact that you were already familiar with someone and that Eric had been watching you the whole time had worked in your favor.

"Again? We met six months ago"

"Oh, but I don't need you, Mr. Dele. You can go" you giggle as he hugs you and leaves a kiss on your cheek. The end of the market window in January means new signings, so work for you.

"Newcomers, one at a time here please. Ben, your dress is ready could you please try it on?" the boy nods and smiles as you pass him the suit bag.

"Babe" just hearing Eric's moan makes you roll your eyes at him while you're busy writing down the size you just took. Every time it's the same story, you already know that soon he will tell you you don't have to sit like that and in fact soon after those exact words come out of his mouth.

"Relax man, he ain't getting out of here until I say so"

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely" you hear him giggle as you tell the boy he can get dressed and you hear him approach.

"But still, you shouldn't squat like that in your condition. Besides, can't you bring, like, an assistant?"

"I'm the assistant Eric. And by the way, don't worry, I have a great fiancé at home who gives great ankle massages"

"How lucky you are" he stares at you from above with one of his smiles on his face and you roll your eyes, "Now are you going to help me up or do you need a written invitation?"

*

You close the book you're reading and take off your glasses, place everything on the bedside table and place your head on the pillow before sighing and extending one hand to turn off the light on the nightstand.

"Tired?" Eric looks down at you with his back against the bed headboard to see you nod and your eyes close for a few seconds. You feel Eric move slightly until he puts a kiss on your forehead and even the light from his lamp is turned off. "Good night"

"Ugh Eric, are we one of those couples?" the light comes on soon after, your eyes already looking for his, his hand caressing your cheek. "Are we... boring?"

Eric laughs by shaking his head and making force on his arms to put his back against the headboard again, "Come here" you don't make him repeat it twice and put your head on his shoulder while he caresses your hair.

"Listen, we have some pretty hectic lives. We have a baby who needs us, we'll have another one soon" he leaves a kiss on your temple by moving one hand towards your belly. "So no, to answer your question, we're not boring at all. We're just a couple of 30-year-olds trying to get our strength back for another busy day"

"Speak for yourself, I haven't gotten to thirty yet"

"Oh then it's worrying" you laugh out loud and then suddenly shut up for fear of waking the little one, but luckily you can't hear anything in the silence of your house and look at each other giggling quietly now. Him kissing you in the meantime and making you remember why you chose each other.

[ohtheseboysilove]

Sexy panties to dirty nappies [Ben Hardy x F!Reader] IV

Words : 4, 200 K +

Warnings : angst, fluff, smut

Summary :  Reader is eight months pregnant. The only problem ? She just find out. Yep, pregancy denial. Now, they only got one month to be ready for the baby. Ready…steady…go !

Note : Not you’re not dreaming !!! The new chapter is here after 16325 years of waiting !!! I think we got two maybe three more chapters before the eeeend

🌼Request are open🌼☀ Masterlist ☀

“It’s impressively well-done for a fake pregnant belly”

“It’s a real one”

“I mean look at the details and all, I can’t see the strap to take it off! ”

“I told you it’s my real skin, you dummy”

“You’re almost convincing sweetheart but you can’t be– holy shit ! Your fake stomach just fucking kick me !”

“Joseph, for the tenth times, I’m pregnant and the kick you just felt, it’s our baby girl” You scoffed as the ginger man looked at your belly with wide eyes.

“But– I saw you in a thigh dress last month, I’m sure I wouldn’t have missed your...” He gestured to your swollen abdomen. “...imposing hum state”

You and Ben had currently some of your closest friends at your place and they were all shocked by the new but they mostly congratulated you for the baby’s coming. Joe couldn’t believe the pregnancy’s denial thing, not that he thought you were lying, he just had a hard time to process.

“Do you have any idea for a name ?” Lucy asked with a soft smile.

You and Ben glance at each other, whining a bit.

“Not really. I love Lottie but Ben don’t want it” You pouted childishly.

“It’s not even a name ! It’s basically Charlotte’s nickname but you don’t like Charlotte, it’s not my fault baby” Ben chatted back before tacking a sip of his beer, earning a roll of eyes from you. “You don’t like any of my idea, you had reject every name I proposed !”

“We’re not calling our daughter Esmeralda, Ben” You huffed as you lay back in the sofa, wiggling to find a comfortable position. “And Isabella is out too, I’m not giving my kid the name of the dumbass from Twilight” Joe snorted and shook his head, patting Ben’ shoulder.

“These names are rather lovely (Y/N)” Commented Gwilym with a shrug.

“Didn’t ask for your opinion Lee” You scoffed and snatched the crisp’ bowl from his hand, munching loudly the snack.

“Don’t worry, the hormones drove her mad, she’s mean with everyone Gwil” The blond winked at the brown-haired man. “She’s probably gonna cry in less than half an hour”

“Piss off Benny” You mumbled, moving like a worm on the sofa, the baby was jumping around your belly and the task of relaxing was nearly impossible. “What about Mina ? It’s cute”

“I love it” Lucy and Gwil nodded enthusiastically, Joe just shrugged.

“Nah, I’m not fan” The blond scratched his chin, thinking about other names. “Kelly ?”

“Urgh, no way. I was bullied by a Kelly in school, she was a real bitch” You shook your head, a hand massaging your swollen belly. “Ophelia?”

Your boyfriend whined and you sighed dramatically. The brainstorm for a name continued for a good twenty minutes, everyone proposing a name until you and Ben found one you both agreed on.

“Ellie. It’s perfect” You smiled and Ben smiled back, both of you reassured to find a name before the arrival of your daughter. “It’s short and adorable”

“Well done Gwil” Lucy gave a thumb up as he smiled proudly for finding the name.

“Mine was better” Grumbled Joe with a childish pout. “You could put as a her middle name”

“Ellie Skywalker Jones” Ben nodded and glanced at you “What’s do you think babe ?”

You raised your middle finger to the two men before wrapping protectively your belly with your arms.

“I think neither of you will be allowed in the hospital for the birth, I don’t trust any of you”

**

After a promise of paying the restaurant’s note next time you all going out, your friends accepted to help you to get the baby’s room ready. You were painting one of the wall in a light blue as was Lucy, both of you chatting during your task.

Joe and Ben were trying to find a way to put together the crib which it and more baby’ stuffs had arrive earlier during the day.

“So...do you feel ready for the baby hon ?” You stopped your movements and glanced at Ben who was already looking at you. You both knew the answer.

“Fuck no” Gwilym, Lucy and Joe laughed at your perfect synchronisation and Ben winked at you.

“But it’s not like we have any choice...it’s gonna be hard but we will find a way, right Benny ?” You asked and smiled lovingly when the blond stood up to plant a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Of course, baby. We can manage a little human, million of people do it, so we can do it too” He ignored the exaggerated aaaawwwww of Joe and pressed a second kiss, on your nose this time. “But maybe you should rest for a bit now. You have been standing for hours baby” He gave you his famous puppy-eyes and for once, you didn’t object.

You hummed in agreement and sat in the rocking-chair, giving some rest to your swollen ankles. Ben smiled with relief and went back to the crib as Gwilym was hanging few decorations above it, following your instructions.

“I was wondering guys...since you’re not going to the concert next week, can I have your tickets ? I met a really pretty girl the other day and if–“

“What ? What concert ?” You cut Joe with a frown.

“Queen + Adam Lambert, did...did you forget ?” Gwilym looked at you and Ben’s dumbfounded faces and get his answer.

“Holy shit, is it next weekend ? I completely forget it !” You slapped your forehead with shock. This surprise baby made you forget the concert you were waiting for practically a year. “Fuck, I will be still pregnant for the gig !” You stood up and cursed loudly, looking dramatically at Ben. “What are we going to do ?”

“What do you mean ? We’re not going, baby” The blond stated the situation like it was the most obvious answer ever. You scoffed, outraged by his reply and he shook his head, feeling the fight coming. “(Y/N), you’re eight months pregnant, you’re not going to any concert”

“But it’s Queen ! I’m waiting for that since I’m a little kid !” You reacted like a brat but honestly, the only thought of missing the gig made your blood boiled. “I’m going !”

“You’re not going anywhere” Ben snapped and crossed his arms, looking firmly at you. “Joe, you can have our tickets, there are in the kitchen, behind the echography of Ellie”

Lucy and the two boys looked awkwardly at each other at your bickering and quietly exited the room to let you both speak alone.

“Joe, you better don’t touch my ticket !” You warned as he shook his head and closed the door behind him. “I’m going Ben, I don’t need your permission” You humphed angrily and finished to put the big cloud sticker on the wall, ignoring Ben’s deep sigh.

“(Y/N), don’t be stupid please. We have standing’s tickets, you can’t go in crowd and stand for three hours in your state” You knew he was right but his tone was annoying you. He was scolding you like if you were a kid. “Be serious for a minute, I want to go too but I’m not going because you can’t”

“But I want to go” You whined and felt tears watering your eyes. You hated crying but since you were pregnant, every little thing that upset you, also made you cry. “I’m sure we can exchanged our standing tickets for seating tickets...”

“I said no, it’s too dangerous ! Jesus, stop being so childish (Y/N), for fuck’ sake ! We’re going to have a baby, if you don’t want to be a bad mother, you need to grow the hell up” Your lower lip was trembling after Ben’s harsh words, trying to suppress your sobs. The blond cursed and immediately regretted his words. “No, babe, I’m sorry. That’s not what I wanted to say, I–“

“Save it Ben” You cut him, coldly and made your way out of the baby’s room, sniffling quietly.

You were hurt. Very hurt. His words stung in you like poison, you were already doubting about your capacity of being a mum and now it was even worse. The rest of the flat was empty, your friends probably left at the uncomfortable situation. Great.

“Baby, please. Forgive me, I didn’t mean any of this. I’m just fucking nervous” Ben pleaded as he followed you in the kitchen. “I’m sorry” You ignored him and graciously wiped your nose with your – Ben’s – jumper’ sleeve before grabbing a cookie’s box, crunching one of them angrily. “Babe, talk to me, please”

“Fuck off” You replied and made your way to your room, slamming it in Ben’s face and carefully locking it behind you.

“(Y/N), let’s talk about it, you can yell at me as long as you want” He knocked on the door but you stayed silent. You muffled your cries with your hand and slid in your bed, feeling exhausted. Hormones were amplified all of your emotions and maybe you were overacting a bit but you couldn’t control yourself. For now, you were vexed. “Baby, I’m sorry, I really am. Please, let me in”

Ben’s voice was sounding lower as you slowly drifted into sleep, mouth half-parted as small snores echoed in the room.

**

When you woke up, you were feeling much better. Hungry and craving for cuddles. You felt stupid to react so dramatically, Ben would never hurt you on purpose and he wasn’t totally wrong about what he said. He was a bit clumsy with his words but he didn’t mean any hurt. You unlocked the door and went looking for Ben, walking frankly around the messy flat.

“Ben ? Frankie ?” You heart started racing violently as the thought that he left you all alone. That it, he had enough with you and left you and the baby.

You put a hand on your chest, feeling it raising quickly under the anxiety. You started crying and kept calling Ben’s name with a weak voice. You were ridiculous, deep inside, you knew he didn’t leaves you but your emotions were all over the place, messing badly with your rational mind. After five long minutes of more sobbing and intense fear, – raising a baby all by yourself ? Nightmare – the front door open.

“In, Frankie. Good girl” Ben cooed as the dog immediately ran to you, her little tail wagging excitedly. “Baby, what’s wrong ?” the blond looked at you worriedly and quickly closed the door before joining you on the sofa.

“You’re back” You murmured with round, teary eyes that made Ben’s heart melted.

“Of course, I’m back, baby. ‘ Was just walking Frankie” His big, warm hands flew to your wet cheeks, brushing it softly. “I’m not going anywhere, I already told you that (Y/N), you stuck with me forever, you and little Ellie” He pressed his lips on yours, several times as you sighed with relief, your fingers clenching around his forearm. “I brought you this veggie burger from Byron that you love so much” He added in a whisper, his mouth curled in a cheeky smile.

“With sweet potatoes ?” You asked with the sweetest, hopeful voice, Ben’s chuckling softly at your tone.

“Two portions of sweet potatoes for my pretty girl” He confirmed and you kissed his cheeks, wiping your wet eyes with a hungry smile. “I’m gonna make your plate, ‘kay ?” You nodded and he disappeared in the kitchen, Frankie immediately stealing his spot.

You scratched her ears with a loving smile while she rolled on her back, exposing her tummy for some more rubbing, her cute little pink tongue poking out. The blond came back, two plates on his hands before putting the little stool, to rest your feet on, in front of you. The sight of the deliciously greasy burger made your stomach grumbled loudly. You both silently ate your dinner, Ben stealing you soft glances from time to time, your plate resting on the top of your round belly as you eagerly stuffed your mouth with chips.

“About what I said earlier...”

“No, Ben, let’s forget that okay ? You were right, I acted like a little bitch, I was being stupid” You took a large sip of your soda and waved him off, licking your greasy fingers.

“Hey, I shouldn’t have talk you like this either, ‘m sorry baby” His plump lips pressed on your shoulder, making you smiled inevitably.

You wiped your fingers into a napkin and slid them on his cheeks, bringing in face to yours, kissing him cheekily. Ben moved the plate from the top of your tummy and pushed him away somewhere on the coffee table without breaking the kiss. You sat on his lap, bowing your neck to keep your lips connected, trying to ignore the soreness of the gesture but with your massive body between the two of you, it wasn’t really easy.

Ben lips trailed down your neck, nipping at your skin as you softly gasped at the nice sensation. But then little Ellie decided to wake up, giving this steamy moment a weird dimension. The baby was pretty energetic, kicking hard until Ben stopped, sighing.

“Is it only me or you also find weird to make out when this little cockblocker is awake ?” He narrowed his eyes, looking suspiciously at your swollen belly.

“Definitively” You pouted and let a light peck on his cute nose before getting back on your spot, your hand rubbed on your tummy. “Shush baby...aren’t you a jealous little thing ? Not letting your mama getting a well-deserve quickie on the sofa, that wasn’t really nice” You cooed at your belly, your daughter kicking back even harder at the sound of your voice.

“Can’t wait to have this little girl out of her Mummy because this is my spot, and I don’t like sharing” He gave you smug smile and avoid the cushion that you threw to him. “What ? I’m sick of using my hand, didn’t jerk myself off that much since high school. Miss our long, hot night of sex very much” He whispered the last sentence into your ear, bringing a shiver down your spin.

You whined. Loudly.

“Me too baby. God, that awful, I’m so horny and I can barely move” You cried as your gently tugged on Ben’s hairs. His gorgeous lips teasing you as he ran a tongue on it.

“As soon as we have a night just for ourself, m’ gonna take care of you, no cockblocker and no big belly to stop me this time” He brushed his lips against your lobe and moved away, his eyes matching your excitation. “Soon, baby, soon”

You nodded with a pout and grabbed back your plate, munching your burger as you ignored the knot of desire in your lower belly.

“Do you want my pickle ?” His fingers wiggled the large american pickle in front of your lips, mouth twitching up in a cocky smile. “It’s leaking, wanna taste ?” You knew he was teasing you and he was having too much fun with his dirty talk, he rubbed the head of the pickle on your closed mouth, knowing damn well that the baby was too awake to do anything right now.

His amused face turned into a most serious one when you decided to play his game too, giving a kitten lick on the pickle, your doe-eyes looking right him innocently. You hummed appreciatively and chuckled as his Adam’s apple bobbed visibly. You wrapped your lips around the vegetable, sucking on it with exaggerated noises only destined to frustrate him more. His cheeks were becoming pink at your gestures, his free hand sliding into his pants, palming himself at the sight, imagining your lips wrapped around him rather than this stupid pickle.

“You like that Ben ?” You murmured in a slutty voice, trying your best to not burst in laugh at his flustered state. Men were really weak. He nodded softly, groans leaving his parted mouth as his cock was throbbing in his hand, begging for some release. You put back your lips and moaned loudly around it, your hands pressing on his thighs cockily. “That what you get when you tease me, you twat” You crunched on the pickle and moved back, giggling at his wide eyes and burning face.

“You’re...the devil, woman” He chocked out in a strangled voice, stopping the movements of his hand. You stole the rest of the pickle and ate it nonchalantly, ignoring his pleading look. “Babe” He rubbed his nose on your neck. “Baby” He whined against your skin, his hot breath tickling you. “Please, my love. Need you. So badly” He caught your hand and pressed it onto his boner, showing you how much he needed you.

“Humm, what do I get if I land you a hand ?” You purred with a cheeky smile, your fingers brushing on his hard-on.

“Everything you want baby, please” You grinned in satisfaction and pressed your lips on his jaw, biting it slightly as your hand wrapped around his length, earning a loud gasp.

“Alright, you owned three girl nights once the baby is born, whenever I want” You glanced at him and he rolled his eyes but nodded anyway, he slid down his jeans and underwear, exposing his magnificent purple-head cock to you. “And you give me a massage tonight” You added with a smirk, your thumb teasing the top of his leaking dick. Ben sighed uncomfortably at your sweet torture and nodded eagerly, his hips bucking into your grip. “And a real massage baby, not a five-minutes-and-im-too-tired one ! With the relaxing oil I bought last–“

“Jesus (Y/N) !Yes, yes, yes ! Everything you want baby, can you just jerk me off ?” His head was threw back in the sofa, eyes closed and face twisted in need.

“So romantic my love” You joked and slowly started moving your hand up and down, nails slightly grazing on him, bringing your lips back on his neck. “How do that feel ?”

“So good baby. So so so good” He whimpered as your other hand went on his balls, massaging them gently. “Shit, how can you hand be so much better than mine ?” The blond kept his eyes shut, chest panting as his release was quicky building.

“For the same reason than I prefer your fingers in my pussy rather than mine” You murmured against his lips, grinning at his long and deep moan. “Feel so nice when you touch me, always hitting the right spot” You bit his bottom lip, quickening your speed around his cock.

“God, I love this dirty mouth of yours” He breathed as he opened his lust-filled eyes. “Kiss me” You pressed a simple kiss on his mouth, earning a disapproval groan from your boyfriend. “A real– fuck, a real kiss baby”

“I taste like pickle Ben” You giggled and wrinkled up your nose. “Yuck”

“Like I fucking care, gimme a kiss baby” You happily complied and slid your tongue into his mouth, adding some pressure on his hard member as you other hand flew back on his neck. “Oh my– feel so good! I’m gonna cum baby! Shit shit shit !” He sang in a high pitched voice as you praised him until he jerked in your hand with a throaty groan.

You wiped your hands covered in sticky cum on Ben’s shirt who gave you a dirty look but didn’t say anything. You just jerked him off, knowing you wouldn’t have any release in return, he better kept his mouth shut.

**

Few days later you were doing your exercise of the day : Walking to the elevator, get in it, walking even more graciously to the box letters, grabbed the mails and then going back to your flat in the same way. It was noting but it made you sweated and groaned every time.

You sat – more like grovelled – into the sofa, patting a sleepy Frankie and looked over the mails, putting the bills on the table with a grimace. You made your way to Ben’s office, dropping his work mails on the desk but your eyes fell on a large envelop, with the name of his agent on it. You furrowed your brows and took the envelop, wondering what it was. You curiosity would kill you one day.

“I hope for you Benjamin Jones that I’m wrong and it’s not what I think it is...” You mumbled with annoyance, trying to see through the envelop.

Ben had the bad habit to accept projects before talking to you, to avoid a drama. We ask for forgiveness, not for authorisation. But now you had a baby coming very soon and if you found out this asshole was away for a photo shoot or an interview somewhere else than in London...someone gonna be in big troubles. You were becoming angry and scared. He wouldn’t do that, he couldn’t. Now you were pacing in the room, trying to relax and not becoming too paranoiac. Too late. You grabbed the envelop and looked for the little knife that Ben used to opened his mails.

“Watcha doing ?” You dropped everything on the floor with a loud gasp, catched red-handed. Ben smirked at your guilty face, walking to you. “What did I do for you to search through my boring work stuffs hum ? That not where I keep the naughty photos my fans send me, you know that” He joked before placing a kiss on your hair, rubbing gently your belly.

This wanker came back from the gym quicker than you expected.

“And why are you trying to make go in early-labour, you ass” You groaned in a loud breath, heart beating quickly from the scare he just gave you. The blond chuckled, clearly picking on your mood but he was used to it now. “What is in this envelop ?” You shook it in front of your boyfriend’s face.

“Hum...nothing” The british lied and quickly grabbed the mail from your hand, taking it away.

“Benjamin! What is it ?” You slapped his chest to make him drop the envelop but he shook his head, refusing to tell you.

“Nothing baby, I swear ! Just boring work” He smiled innocently to you and it made you even more upset.

“Oh my god Ben ! Tell me ! You better not leave the city during the first year of  your daughter’s life or I’m gonna castrate you !” You shoved an angry finger in his chest before pinching roughly one of his nipple, making him gasp painfully.

“Fuck (Y/N) ! You hurt me” He whined like a child but at least you get the mail back in your hand. You smirked at him and started to open it under Ben’s annoyed gaze. “Okay, go on, you minx, ruin my surprise” The blond crossed his arms and rubbed his torso, mumbling about his nipple hurting.

You chewed your lips in hesitation, maybe it was really a surprise and you were just acting bratty. You sighed and gave him back the mail, half opened. You pouted and walked away, hormones making you crazy. You wanted to cry, to yell or just taking a nap you didn’t know. But the envelop was still in your though, making you wondering too much. And Ben being the perfect boyfriend he was, knew that too. That why he came sit next to you on the sofa, handing you the mail.

“I wanted it to be a surprise until the last minute but I know you gonna drive yourself mad with this, so here, open your present” You squealed in excitement, sending him the wider smile ever. “But please don’t go in early labour, that would literally ruin my present” He added, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Can’t promise anything Benny” You crutched your nose, taking out two shiny pieces of paper from the mail, eyes practically popping out of your face. “No, you didn’t ! Oh my god Ben !” You let out a scream in high-pitched voice and the blond covered his ears as the sound but a satisfied smile was on his lips.

It was two tickets for a Queen + Adam Lambert concert but this time, it was not standing but seating tickets, on a private balcony, much better for a very pregnant woman. You quickly wiped away the few tears on your cheeks and grabbed Ben’s neck, kissing his mouth several times, babbling several thank you.

“I’m glad you’re happy, baby” You buried your head into his neck, his large palms rubbing your swollen belly, his head on yours.

“I though you didn’t want me to go with little Ellie” You murmured against his skin, feeling overwhelmed by love for this incredible man.

“Well, it way safer tickets and it’s probably the last very exciting thing we’re gonna do before the baby so...yeah, let’s go see Queen” He replied with an amused tone.

“You’re damn right, Jones” You put your hand over his, both of you giggling at the kick from little Ellie “See, she is very excited too ! Baby girl gonna dance with Mommy on saturday night !”

Ben gave you a warning look and you pinched your lips, amused.

“Or we can just occasionally wiggle on our seat to not worry daddy to much” You added with an innocent smile.

“Much better” Ben agreed with a grin.

**

Tag list :  @ixchel-9275 @jennyggggrrr

[bensakindofmagic]

Chapter Two

A/N: the response to the first chapter has been insane, i’m blown away thank you. no warnings for this one - just enjoy!

w/c: 3.1k+

(gif creds to @.mrbenhardys)

A couple of weeks into the project and you were still in the rehearsal stage for Live Aid. You were grateful for the later mornings, as you didn’t have to make sure the boys were in hair and makeup by 6am just yet. The shoot stared in less than two weeks and everyone felt the pressure ramping up. It wasn’t helped by the fact that Brian May and Roger Taylor were coming to set that day to see how it was all going and offer up a little of their considerable wisdom. It wasn’t the first time they’d been, and you had briefly spoken to them before, but did little more than introduce yourself before they were called away to more important business. It had still given you nervous jitters that morning to think you’d be within a few feet of them.

Rehearsals seemed to be going well; the guys had bonded a lot over the past weeks which filtered into their performance. When they are all jamming together they really felt like a band. You allowed yourself a smug smile, knowing that you had a small hand in that. You’d been hanging out together most evenings since your game, going to a local pub, chilling in someone’s trailer watching Queen documentaries that you’d all seen a hundred times before, or just chatting, getting to know each other better. All four of them were sweet and charming and funny, and you felt yourself getting more and more comfortable around them. You felt relaxed, which in turn led to you opening up to them, perhaps a little too much; you had a tendency to overshare sometimes. But it didn’t seem to bother them much, apart from maybe Ben who seemed to tense up and shift in his seat when you said anything too personal. He’d just have to get used to you.

You contemplated him as he played. You watched the way he frowned when he concentrated, lips silently counting the beats. You watched him bounce on his seat between run throughs, and twirl the drumsticks lazily between his fingers.

“He’s good isn’t he?” Brian said with a knowing smile. When he saw confusion flash across your face he clarified, “Ben. He’s very good.”

“Oh, uh yeah, I think so.”

“Attractive, too. I can see why Roger was so chuffed with the casting,” he chuckled.

You surrendered to the smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Oh I’m sure.”

“I heard that,” Roger said little grumpily.

“What, he’s much better looking than you ever were.”

“Unbelievable! Do you agree with this?” Roger asked, turning to you.

“Uh” you said with a giggle, “can I plead the fifth?”

He grumbled and you and Brian laughed. You had to stop and take a breath to make yourself realise that you had just shared a joke with two members of Queen.

Watching everyone work was kind of mind-boggling. Everyone was so focused that they didn’t stop to look at where they were, but the scene in front of you was incredible. People everywhere were fussing over something, making sure every wire and prop was in place. Joe and Gwil were jamming quietly together, probably going over some riff, Ben and Roger were unsurprisingly tinkering with the drum kit as Brian chatted animatedly with one of the ADs. The whole stage seemed to be in motion, oscillating with potential. As you watched it all pass before your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to bask in the absolute insanity of your job, a feeling of satisfaction and excitement welled up inside you. You could feel the anticipation of what this job would bring, how it would affect your life and how you would be changed by it. You couldn’t say why, but you knew in your soul how important this job would be.

It went in a blur — the rest of the day, the week, the whole rehearsal period — and before you knew it you were due to start filming. Everyday felt like a joy. It was hard work, and every night you fell into bed, exhausted, but not before spending an hour or two with your favourite boys. You’d all become close, you was starting to feel like a little family. You and Ben in particular were getting close, the constant teasing between you becoming second nature. On this particular evening, just a few days out from starting the shoot, you were all crammed Rami’s trailer (his was the biggest), relaxing after a long day.

“You know I really think we nailed it today guys,” Joe said enthusiastically.

“Yeah except when Gwil tripped over his own guitar cable,” you giggled.

“Oh come on guys,” he groaned, “we all had a big laugh about this earlier, can we move on please?”

“It was look on your face though mate. Priceless.”

“I’ve never seen such raw panic is someone’s eyes,” you teased.

“What about the day you met me?” Ben shot at you, all confidence. “I think I got you pretty flustered.”

“Oh babe, that wasn’t panic in my eyes,” you retorted with a wink, leaving the rest to his imagination. You were disinclined to let on that you had been wandering what he looked like naked the first time you met.

The five of you joked around aimlessly, only interrupted by Gwil’s phone ringing. He explained that it was his girlfriend and stepped outside to take the call. You noticed a sadness flash across Ben’s eyes, one that had infused their bright green with a hint of grey a few times over the last week. You figured it must have made him think of his own girlfriend, and he was probably missing her. You had made the decision weeks ago that you were objectively not allowed to fancy Ben, so any flare of acidic jealousy in your stomach at that thought was steadfastly ignored.

Thinking you’d give him the opportunity to talk about it if he wanted to, you lightly asked, “How’s your girlfriend Ben? Must be tough on you both, doing such long shoots.”

An awkward hush fell over the room, and Joe and Rami looked at you with shock and horror painted across their features. You had clearly said something wrong.

After a long, tense moment, Ben quietly said, “Actually we broke up.”

A longing kind of melancholy set over him; he hunched his shoulders and kept his eyes fixed on the floor. He looked wretched and you felt awful.

“Oh my god Ben, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” It dawned on you then that the others clearly knew, and no one had told you.

“It’s okay, it’s for the best, you know. I broke up with her.”

A plethora of questions and concerns raced through your brain. You resolutely battered away the ones that had anything to do with him now being available.

You settled with, “What happened?” quickly mitigated with, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine. It’d been coming for a while I think, our lives just didn’t fit together anymore.”

Joe scoffed, “Oh come on, it’s because you have feelings for someone else.”

His eyes instantly Ben wide and you thought you saw him glance at you for a second. He quickly hissed, “What the fuck, Joe?”

Joe looked sheepish and went quiet. You looked back and forth between them, confused and a little hurt. How had they not told you about any of this?

Ben gave a throaty sigh and explained, “Things were falling apart before. We’ve been talking less, we lost the spark. I thought it was just time, you know, we got so used to each other. But then I met this girl…” his voice got so deep his words were half whispered, “I instantly felt it again - that spark. She’s smart and funny and she has such a presence. I just want to watch her, all the time.”

Thinking of Ben feeling that way about someone sent a pang of yearning through you; he looked so soft, all curves. The evening sun cast a glow over him, bathing him in gold. A lone strand of hair fell down over his forehead that you were desperate to push back. The gentle curve of his jaw, soft but defined, was illuminated. His teeth clenched behind pouted lips.

He looked deep into your eyes, so far he could have been looking through you. “It reminded what love should feel like. I guess I realised that it wasn’t right to keep fighting anymore. It was time to move on.”

A heavy silence settled in the room that you couldn’t bring yourself to break. You had to remind yourself that the urge to stroke his cheek and hold him tight to your chest was entirely unprofessional. You opened your mouth to speak, but had no idea what to say. Luckily, Gwil walked back in at that moment.

“Sorry about that, she was just checking i- is everything okay?” he said noticing the tone of the room.

Rami twisted him mouth into an awkward grin, “Ben just told Y/N about the breakup.”

Gwil nodded slowly, “Oh right.” He raised an eyebrow to Ben in a silent question: if he got an answer you weren’t aware of it. “Are you okay Y/N?”

“Me?” The question confused you; what did Ben’s breakup have to do with you? “I’m fine. I guess I’m a little upset that you clearly all knew and I’m only finding out now.”

The guilt in Ben’s eyes tore at your heart. With so much tension in the air you decided that everyone needed to let off some steam.

“Let’s go out,” you said abruptly.

All four pairs of eyes converged on you.

“We have to work tomorrow,” Gwil said, ever the responsible parent.

“Come on,” you sighed, exasperated, “It’s what people do when they’re going through a breakup. Anyway, filming starts soon and then dealing with the hangovers will be even worse. Why not go while we can?”

Joe grinned, “I think it’s a great idea.”

“Of course you do,” Rami muttered. “What do you think, Ben?”

You looked at him hopefully, and when a smile tugged at the corner of his lips you beamed.

“Why not?”

You found a small bar, with a decent crowd for a weeknight, and bagged a booth. You got the first round in, despite the protests from the guys, and gave a sweet smile to the barman who helped you carry five pints to the table. You didn’t notice the glare that Ben shot at him.

“It’s busy for a Thursday, wonder why there so many people here,” Gwil mused.

“Come on, it’s London, it must be busy all the time,” Joe reasoned.

You just shook your head and motioned with your chin to the sign above the bar that read:


KARAOKE NIGHT, EVERY THURSDAY, FREE DRINKS FOR THE BRAVE

“You feeling brave, Joe?” you smirked. His eyes were wide with glee.

Ben sniggered, “Of course you’re the kind of guy who loves karaoke.”

“Don’t knock it Ben, or I might just dedicate a song to you. There’s no way you’ll pull a girl then.”

“Are you looking to pull tonight?” You asked, just a little too fast.

He simpered, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” It turned the groove at the corner of his mouth into a chasm, and his eyes smouldered a rich emerald green in the dim light. Like he would have any trouble pulling.

“Well I make an excellent wing woman, just to let you know,” you smirked a little sassily and took a sip of your drink.

“Role play,” he responded without missing a beat. You had to concentrate on not choking when your mind wondered to the connotations of those two words.

“I’m not going to give it all away.”

“Signature move, then.”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip a little, hiding a smirk, and said, “Well, I’d talk you up to her a bit, then send you off to get us a round, and while you’re gone I’d very subtly allude to some sexual past between us and imply that you were the best I ever had.” You could barely make eye contact with him, but as you spoke those final few words you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his self-satisfied grin. “Works a charm,” you finished.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys,’ Joe interrupted before you could fall too deep into that particular rabbit hole, “but I want a free drink.”

“What, now?” you said with incredulity.

“No time like the present,” he said as he downed what was left of his pint.

“Are you seriously going to be the first person to sing?”

“Well someone’s gotta kick this bad boy off,” and with that he was marching over to the DJ.

“God, you’re so bloody American,” you laughed breathily.

Joe proceeded to annihilate a Rick Astley classic. There was a lot of cheesy two-stepping and emphatic pointing (mostly towards Ben), and he was given a loud cheer as he finished. The barman even gave him a free shot on top of his pint, just because he was so enthusiastic.

You greeted him with a chorus of ‘wow’s as he sat back down.

“That was pretty amazing mate,” said Ben.

“I was good, right,” Joe smiled, panting lightly.

“It was engaging, for sure,” you laughed.

Rami piped up, “That’s code for ‘you were horrendous but I couldn’t look away.’ Like seeing a cat in human clothes.”

“Well that’s just rude, and the crowd seemed to like it. Anyway, who’s next?”

“I vote Y/N,” Ben winked and you snorted.

“Um, no thank you. I’m no singer.”

“Well that’s just a dirty lie, isn’t it? I heard you singing from inside your trailer this morning. It was a rather lovely rendition of Crazy Little Thing Called Love, I believe.”

You eyes went wide and you blushed, remembering how you had danced around as you sang, thinking no one else was awake yet. You desperately hoped he hadn’t seen you through the window, but the twinkle in his eye made you suspect otherwise.

“Look, I’m perfectly happy sitting right here with a drink that I paid for.”

“No way,” Gwil beamed, “it was your idea to come out, I think it’s only right that you sing.”

You pursed you lips, “I’m really fine.”

Ben licked the corner of his mouth, his eyes locked with yours, and said, “We won’t force you if you don’t think you can pull it off. We wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself now, would we?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and ran your tongue over your teeth. He knew exactly what to say to get you riled up. You were desperate to prove yourself to him, but also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had you wrapped around his little finger. The tension around the table was palpable as you brooded over what to do. A group of women, far too drunk for the time of the evening, had just finished screeching their way through Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, so it was now or never.

You stood without a word, grabbed a shot from the bar, and went to the microphone. You told the DJ what you were singing — Piece of My Heart by Janis Joplin, which you had pre-picked for exactly a situation like this — and waited for the guitar to kick in. You took a steadying breath and stole a glance at the guys. Joe, Gwil, and Rami were smiling encouragingly, but Ben just cocked an eyebrow at you in a silent challenge.

Needless to say, you crushed it.

You let the music fill you up, ignoring the rest of room, and pretended you were in your bedroom singing into a hairbrush. You swayed your hips, just sexily enough to show how comfortable you were up there, and belted out the high notes as best you could. It was liberating, and you felt galvanised by the whoops and cheers coming from your table - Joe’s voice was unmistakable as he cheered you on. You tried to steal a glance at Ben through the lights, but couldn’t make out the expression on his face.

“Dude, you brought this on yourself,” Joe quipped, noticing the awe and the hunger on Ben’s face.

“You were the one that told her I had feelings for someone,” he sassed back.

“I didn’t tell her who!”

“Oh right, ‘cause you’re always Mr Subtle.”

“Well I’m not going to sit around forever and watch you pine over her and do absolutely nothing about it.”

You were making your way back to the table, still followed by the cheers of the crowd, and grinned at the guys, oblivious to the conversation that preceded you. Ben shot Joe a warning glare as you sat down, free drink in hand.

“I think we can safely say I did not embarrass myself,” you said, smug.

“You were amazing up there, Y/N,” Rami smiled kindly.

You looked to Ben, waiting for whatever snarky remark he was bound to make, but nothing came.

“Nothing to say Ben?”

He blinked slowly, and replied with a shrug, “I eat my words.”

You were shocked into silence, and only vaguely aware of Joe rolling his eyes. You would have wondered what it meant had you not been so distracted by the way Ben’s body seemed to clench and sigh. The muscles in his arm rippled as he tightened his fingers around his drink.

You gave your head an indiscernible shake to dislodge the image from your mind and turned to Rami to distract yourself. “It’ll be your turn next Mr Mercury,” you said, raising your eyebrows.

“No no. If this was lip sync then I could crush it, but I’m not singing.”

You spent the rest of the evening chatting, cheering on those who braved the karaoke and trying to ignore the less tuneful among them. Amidst all the joking about and teasing you were completely ignorant to the way Ben looked at you, watching your lips as you talked animatedly and the breadth of emotions dancing in your eyes. He smiled at the annoyance with which you kept tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear that kept breaking free to fall across you face. It briefly occurred to him that he was staring, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat and try to focus on other things, but his thoughts inevitably drifted back to you. He contributed little to the conversation, as lost as he was in his pining after you, and it had shocked him when you asked him if any girls had caught his eye. He wasn’t looking at anyone but you.

tags:

@anikatcmh @queen-turtle-boiii @orchideax

(let me know if you want to be tagged and i’ll add you!)

[scoopsohboy]

I Got You Babe || Platonic Richie x Beverly

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction in YEARS and my first time ever writing “It” fanfiction. I have a BIG series in mind based in the universe of this fic but, I knew I needed to get this piece written down first. This whole series is inspired by this moodboard post created by asthmaticeddie. Go check it out, Kay is so talented and lovely! My fic would likely be Eddie POV, so I would never get to actually write this scene! So I’m doing it anyway! 

Summary: Richie gets into a fight at a party. Bev has to pick up the pieces. 

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood and spit, slight internalized homophobia. Angst that becomes fluff.  

Word Count: 1508

Richie had fucked up.

That much was painfully obvious to on-lookers who watched Bev as she escorted him from the party. She flashed her brightest smile whilst moving her newfound responsibility by the collar of his Hawaiian shirt through the throngs of people. Her cheeks were a stark red, a harmonious gradient from her cherry lips to her fiery locks.

She shot a quick look back to where her friends stood, mere feet away from the incident. Eddie and Ben were watching the pair storm away, concern plastered all over their faces. Meanwhile, Bill, Stan, and Mike clearly had a handle on damage control, talking Bowers and Co. down from rushing at Richie. Who, by the way, was just asking to get choke-slammed through a coffee table at this point. The punch across the face was an appropriate escalation.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer!" Richie shouts bitterly, before throwing his empty beer can in their general direction. Bev picks up her pace and tightens her grip.

Despite how it feels as if this crowded college party is never ending, the pair finally make it to the front door. Somehow, Stan had managed to follow the pair through the crowd and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. It didn't fix anything but, the gesture reminded her to inhale, in addition to exhaling. Imagine that. Richie opted to sit on the front porch while he waited for his roommate.

"He's messy tonight," Beverly grumbles, running her hands across her face and up into her hair.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Stanley observes, head cocked, eyes following Richie as he begins to spit excess blood and saliva onto the ground, "He looks normal enough to me," this elicits a soft, tired chuckle from Beverly and Stan cracks a smile, "Seriously, though, do you want any help with him?"

"No, no, Stan the Man, you're good. He's just gonna make it his goal to bother you the entire time anyway."

"Fair," he pulls Bev into a side hug, as they stand in the doorway, watching Richie hock a glob of blood and spit on the pavement once again, "And hey, if you make it through the night, tomorrow we'll get breakfast on me." She hummed her appreciation of his proposal, giving his side one last squeeze before stepping into the threshold of Trashmouth Wrangling.

"Bevvie!" Richie cheered as she stormed past him and towards the car, "We should stop at the store!" He caught up to her within two strides, trying to hold her hand.

“No,” Beverly declared, knowing she was already in for a long night. Richie pouted, before spitting yet again, “Stop it. Get in the car."

Spit.

"Don’t spit again, Richie!"

Spit.

"I swear to God! Stop! Spitting!”

Spit.

She hit her much taller friend on the back of his curly haired head, as he laughed against the cool October night. Upon impact, Richie’s glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, as crooked as the smile playing on his lips. He leaned clumsily against his friend’s dingy Ford Freestyle, the freezing touch of the vehicle cooling him down. His intoxicated laugh had echoed off into whatever residential neighborhood the pair had found themselves in this time. He looked off down the street, expectantly, as if he was waiting for someone to return his drunken call. The quirking edges of his smile faltered as he turned to beam down at the angry redhead. Her perfectly and intentionally sculpted brows arched at his childish display, “You done?”

He smiles wider, full of teeth. He spits on the pavement again before spiraling into hysterical laughter. He had no spit or blood left in his mouth at this point. Just defiance. Beverly extends both of her hands forward and shoves her friend, “How fucking old are you?!” her cry is shrill as she goes to get in the driver’s seat. Richie, knowing that he’s already pushing his luck, gets in the passenger’s seat unprompted. He even buckles his seat belt without a glare required. He leans far back in his seat, “Old enough,” 

“Can you not quote Superbad at me right now? I don’t even know how to get out this fucking neighborhood!" Beverly begs, fiddling with the GPS her aunt had gifted her before the semester had begun.

"Are you mad at me?" Richie asks.

"Yeah, Rich, I'm fucking pissed," the engine revs alive as they pull away from the curb.

"Why? I held on to your hair tie all night, like you asked," he holds his wrist out dramatically, providing evidence. The redhead rolls her eyes, softening slightly. Slightly.

"I'm mad because you couldn't just let that piece of shit have the last word. Just this once!" Bev lectures, "Everything was going fine! We managed to pull Mike out of the library for one Friday night! Ben was socializing while he got us drinks!"

"Bill was going to makeout with you," Richie quips.

"You know what, Trashmouth, maybe he was!"

"He was not. Too nervous,"

"Ah! Irrelevant!" Beverly's face had done this lovely little trick it does when dealing with intoxicated Tozier, where it fluctuates from pale to bright pink to the brink of purple, rinse and repeat, "You did enough showing off for Eddie before Bowers showed up. This didn't do you any favors. I don't think beaten to a pulp is exactly his type,"

This struck a nerve.

Richie fell silent in his seat, suddenly very intrigued by the rolling foliage that whipped passed the window. His hands gripped the sides of his seat, fingers picking at the torn upholstery there. Bev didn't push it; she would remember to yell at him for that later. She glanced over at the lanky man every few minutes, looking smaller every time she did so. His busted lip was pursed into a thin line and his posture was frail, hunched. His chest rose and fell rapidly, the only part of him that was active.

Bev broke the silence, "He's probably worried about you, ya know."

"Why would he be?"

"Rich. I'm your roommate. I'm your friend. Do you think I don't have eyes?" A whine escaped from his lips and he shut his eyes tight at the realization that his secret wasn't much of a secret anymore. She gave her friend a wry smile that was practically audible, as she reached her hand across the center console to hold his, "Or a functioning gaydar?"

The duo laugh at this, Richie letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, "Please," he begged, "never use that term," despite how it had alleviated tension between them, it built up a bubble inside him, how quickly this new "quirk" about him gave her the ability to shove him into a box. Bev nods. Richie begins to fiddle with the radio. Despite being drunk off his ass, he was still too sober to be having this conversation.

"Richie...it's not like anyone of us Losers would judge you. Eddie's out and proud-"

"And that's good for Eddie," he cuts her off, wanting to change this conversation as rapidly as he's flipping the channels.

"I just...don't see why you don't just come out and go for it? I have no idea if he likes you back...you're a little polarizing like that. But what is the harm in trying?" Bev wonders, genuine support and a longing to understand in her voice.

"I don't know if there's anything for me to come out as," Richie admits, leaving the radio alone, "I mean...I think Eddie's great. Well...probably more than great. Definitely more than great," he ignores the giggles that emit from Bev, "But...am I really...gay? I couldn't tell you. I've made out with Stan's sister enough back home-" he cuts himself off to respond to Bev's scandalous expression, "you don't know shit-" she throws her head back and laughs, "that there's no way I can't like girls. Do I even need to come out? What does that even mean? Can't I just date who I want? Can't I just make out with who I want at a gross college party, no questions asked?"

Bev shrugs in response, her attitude towards Richie having made a complete 180 since their car ride began, "You got me there," she pulls his hand up to her mouth and let's a kiss linger there until the red light turns green, "We're almost home, Richie, just relax. We can keep talking about this and cuddle on the couch. Or not. Either way, this stays between you and me, bub,"

"What a fuckin' sap," he playfully teases, before turning the volume dial on the radio nearly all the way up. Through the speakers of this behemoth of a car twangs the familiar, funky chords of Sonny and Cher's "I Got You Babe". The two share a look. A look of love and exhaustion and understanding...of the fact that they were about to scream-sing this song until the very last note. This song was a promise. Melodramatic and disco-based. But a promise nonetheless.

[morningfears]

Foul

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Meet-Ugly, college!AU | After a friend convinces you to join the intramural baseball team, you meet the guys (Joe, in particular) in the worst way possible. But at least he’s nice enough to take you to the emergency room after. [Mentions of blood but it gets cute, I promise] Also, if anyone has any Joe requests (that are or aren’t college, doesn’t matter), feel free to send them in. Ben, too.

Word Count: 5.4k (I talk too much, what do you want from me?)

“No.”

Max huffs, an indignant sound meant to convey his unhappiness with your answer, as he reaches for bowl of fruit cocktail that looks questionable at best. He stares at it for a moment, considering it, before he frowns and places it back onto the cool metal of the serving line. “If they wanted us to eat healthy,” he murmurs as he reaches for an apple that’s only slightly bruised, “maybe they should make the healthy options less, I don’t know, revolting?” He frowns at the array of food in front of the two of you before he shakes his head and returns his attention to you. “What do you mean no?” he demands as he grabs a bottle of water and a fork. “You can’t just say no!”

“I can just say no,” you inform him as you grab your own bottle of water before picking up your tray and stepping around him, “and I believe I just did.”

Max huffs again as he grabs his own tray and follows you through the crowded dining hall. The first week of classes means that every freshman on campus eats in the dining hall, before they learn just how disgusting it is and waste the rest of their meal plan on other on-campus options before shamefully returning in November, and the place is packed. The table that you usually occupy, the one by the window closest to the street (“Perfect spot for people watching,” you’d explained once your freshman year), is packed with excited freshman giggling at the seniors in sweatpants and you bypass it to take a seat at the only empty table in sight.

“Why, though?” Max asks as the two of you settle into your seats. “Give me a valid reason and I’ll stop asking.”

“I don’t want to. Valid enough.”

Max rolls his eyes and studies you as you pick at the wilted lettuce of your salad. He’s been trying to get you to play intramural baseball with him since your freshman year and now, at the very beginning of your senior year, he knows that this is his last chance. So, he reaches out to steal a crouton from your salad before he says, “You played softball for most of your life. You could’ve played in college but you wanted to focus on academics and I know you miss it. Intramural isn’t the same, I know. It’s baseball with a bunch of idiot guys who only think they’re good but it’d be a chance for you to at least play a little! You can pick whatever position you want and we only practice once a week so it’s not a huge time commitment. Please!”

You stare at him, contemplating his line of reasoning, as you chew on the fry you’d stolen from his plate during his explanation. Deep down, you know that he’s right. You do miss the sport. Even though you go to as many of the university’s games as you can and even have a few friends on both the softball and baseball teams, it’s not the same as playing yourself. Going to a batting cage or playing catch with a friend isn’t the same and, even though you don’t like admitting it, playing intramural baseball would satisfy your desire to get back out there.

So, you ask, “Do I have to play every game?”

The intramural team, for some unknown reason, plays year round. They begin with the school year and continue until May. The perks of living in California, you suppose. And while you want to play, you don’t want to devote every free moment you may have to the team. So, when Max shakes his head, it makes you consider his offer a little more seriously.

“I want third base,” you inform him as you reach to steal another fry. “And I reserve the right to throw a baseball at the head of any misogynistic asshole who tries me.”

“Done,” Max nods as he shoves the plate of fries toward you. “You can have them,” he offers as he steals the chocolate cupcake from your plate, “they taste like cardboard today. Anyway, we have practice tonight at six. You want to come meet the team? You can ride with me, if you want.”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod as you glance down at your cellphone and notice the time with a sigh. You have just under fifteen minutes to get to your next class and it’s on the other side of campus. So, you shove the device into your pocket and toss your backpack over your shoulder before you grab your tray. “I have class until three so text me and remind me about practice just in case I take a nap and oversleep. Lucy might come, too, if that’s cool.”

“The more the merrier,” Max nods at the mention of your roommate. He’s already scribbling your name on the roster and you’re not surprised that he carries his clipboard in his backpack. With a goodnatured roll of your eyes, you wave goodbye and slip on your headphones before you rush across campus to get to your next class.

The day passes quickly, much faster than you imagined it would, and by the time three o’clock rolls around, you’ve mostly forgotten about the intramural practice. You fall onto your bed with a groan, already exhausted even though it’s only the second week of the semester, and stare up at the ceiling. You would’ve fallen asleep, drifted off into an uncomfortable nap that you desperately needed, had Lucy not bounded into your bedroom and plopped onto your bed beside you.

“I’m glad Max finally convinced you to play,” she hums as she lays beside you and stares up at the glow in the dark stars you hung up when the two of you moved in. “I hate going to the batting cages with you.”

“Hey,” you huff as you nudge her shoulder with your own, “rude. You’ve only been twice! And since you started seeing that guy, I haven’t even seen you.”

“Rami,” she reminds you with a grin, “and we see each other plenty! We had dinner last night.”

“That was three nights ago,” you remind her, and when she blinks, you laugh. “It’s fine, Luce,” you assure her as you reach for her hand and give it a squeeze. “At least one of us has a love life.”

Lucy frowns at this as she curls into your side. She hums thoughtfully before she sits up and grins at you. “I could set you up with one of his friends,” she offers, “he has this friend that loves baseball. You’ve probably seen him at a game. He goes to most of them. But he likes the Yankees so that might be a problem.”

“Don’t think I can date a Yankees fan, Luce, sorry,” you laugh as you glance over at the Mets cap sitting on your desk. “We might kill one another. I’m fine, honestly,” you assure her as you stand from your bed and begin sifting through your clothes for something you don’t mind getting sweaty, “I can wait for love. Besides, I don’t think I’ll have time for it this semester. Senior seminars are going to kick my ass.”

“I don’t even want to think about them,” she huffs as she tosses you an old Nike shirt she’s only seen you wear once. “We have auditions soon and I think I’m going to die.”

“To death and dying, then,” you laugh as you tug on a pair of shorts and shove your cleats in your bag. “If we don’t survive, at least we had fun.”

Two hours later, Max is parking his car in the lot by the ball field and Lucy is texting Rami to let him know that you’ve all arrived. They plan on sitting in the stands, watching as you practice, because the Yankees fan friend is also on the team. “Joe?” Max questions as soon as Lucy mentions it. When she nods, Max snorts a laugh. “You really wanted to set them up? That’d be a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Why?” Lucy demands as the three of you cross the gravel parking lot to get closer to the field.

“Joe’s, well, Joe,” Max shrugs as he adjusts his baseball bag. “He’s loud and passionate and goofy and romantic and gooey and soft. She,” he begins, pausing to glance at you for a moment, “is not. They’re polar opposites. She’s quiet, doesn’t like practical jokes or drawing attention, and romance is her kryptonite.”

“I don’t know if I should be offended that you pretty much just called me dull and unlovable or thank you for stopping Lucy from setting me up with someone who really doesn’t sound like my type,” you mumble as you step into the dugout and reach for the cleats in your bag. “I’m not, like, boring. I like funny jokes. I just don’t like being made the butt of a joke. And I can socialize. It’s just a little harder for me.”

“I know,” Max nods as he follows your lead and pulls on his own cleats. “I didn’t mean it in an offensive way. I just meant that you guys are pretty opposite and that it probably wouldn’t work well. I feel like you’d get a little annoyed with him or, like, hurt his feelings by being too blunt or something.”

“You keep digging yourself deeper,” Lucy informs him with a laugh before she turns to you. “I think that this would be a case of opposites attracting,” she shrugs. “You guys are meeting today no matter what,” she reminds you. “It wouldn’t hurt to keep an open mind when you meet him.” She looks like she wants to say something else but before she can, Rami catches her eye and she waves at him. “Rami and Ben are here. I’m gonna go sit with them and watch practice. Show them how great you are! Good luck, babe!” she cheers, wrapping you in a quick hug before she rushes out of the dugout and goes to join Rami and the blonde you now know as Ben in the stands.

With a roll of your eyes, you stand to your feet and grab your glove from your bag along with a ball from the bucket in the corner. “Meet me out there and we can warm up?” you offer as you glance at Max who is struggling to tie his cleat tight enough. When you receive a nod from him, you step out of the dugout and stand by the entrance for a moment to observe the team.

The pitcher looks far too serious for an intramural pitcher and you figure he must be a former player who injured himself enough to not be able to play for the university. The catcher looks scared shitless, even beneath the mask, and bite back a laugh when he flinches as a fastball hits his glove. There are a few players in the outfield, tossing a ball back and forth or stretching, and they all look like they’re either absolutely apathetic or completely thrilled to be here. You’re not sure which ones you’re going to get along with the best but you don’t dwell as movement in the corner of your eye catches your attention.

You watch as a batter steps into the box, frowning at the pitcher and wearing a Yankees t-shirt. You assume that this is Joe and you can understand why Lucy would want to set you up with him. He’s cute, with red hair that glows in the late evening sun and a nice face that you imagine only looks better with a smile gracing it. You decide that maybe Lucy is right, maybe you should have an open mind (even if he is a Yankees fan), and decide to watch for a moment longer as he settles into the batter’s box.

He looks utterly concentrated, ready for nearly anything, and you watch as the first fastball zips past him. He huffs a breath, the grimace on his face easily visible, and digs his cleats into the dirt as he waits for the second pitch. You hear Max moving around behind you and turn your head to glance at him for a moment, grinning when you see him shoving his cleats back into his bag and tugging on a pair of sneakers, before a shout of, “Watch out!” catches your attention and causes you to turn your head once more.

Before you can move out of the way, or even really register what’s happening, you see a flash of white and feel a searing pain in your nose. The force sends you falling backward, your back hitting the ground with a thud and a cloud of dust. Everyone is frozen with shock for a moment, no one daring to move, before Max unfreezes and drops his bag to the ground with a clatter and skids out of the dugout to drop to his knees beside you.

You hear a flurry of movement around you, you can hear Lucy yelling your name and the bang of her shoes against the metal bleachers as she runs down them. You hear the clatter of the bat dropping against home plate and the sound of feet hitting the ground as Joe, along with the pitcher and catcher, run over to where Max has you propped against the dugout fence.

“Someone grab a towel,” the pitcher orders as he kneels down beside you on the right and you can hear the catchers gear rattle as he rushes into the dugout in search of a towel.

“Fuck, that’s a lot of blood,” you hear Max murmur, his voice muffled and sounding as if he’s speaking through a wad of cotton and you vaguely remember that he gets queasy at the sight of blood on television. You’ve just taken a baseball to the face so you can’t imagine what kind of horror show you must look like now.

As the catcher returns with the towel, you feel a new presence take Max’s spot on your left. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” a frantic voice breathes as a towel is trust into your hands and guided to your nose. When you choke out a noise of pain, the voice sounds again, closer this time. “Fuck, sorry. Sorry. Shit, this looks really bad.”

You blink, still somewhat stunned, and glance at the person out of the corner of your eye. Red hair covers the eyes and you know that it’s Joe. Even though you want to be angry, you want to be upset that your nose is broken and you’re going to be in pain for a bit, you hate how upset he sounds. So, you try to make light of the situation. As clearly as you can, you mumble, “I know we’re rivals but, fuck.”

Joe looks confused for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed and his mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that you’re concussed (or worse) before Max points to the Mets hat that had been knocked off in your fall. “She’s trying to be funny,” he heaves, still not looking at you as he places his head between his knees. “Doesn’t want you to feel like shit.”

Joe blinks, still a bit overwhelmed, before he nods and carefully shifts on his knees so as to not bump you. “I take my baseball really seriously,” he attempts to joke, his voice weak and unconvincing. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Do we need to call an ambulance?” someone asks, one of the guys from the outfield, likely. “That’s a lot of blood.”

“Head and facial injuries bleed a lot,” another voice chimes in, “lots of blood vessels. Probably don’t need an ambulance but she definitely needs to go to the emergency room, just to be sure. She could be concussed."

“I’m so sorry for calling your nursing major stupid, man,” yet another voice chimes in as you feel a third presence by your side.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you hear Lucy ask as she places a hand on your knee. “That’s a lot of blood.��

“Everyone keeps saying that,” you mumble, your voice muffled. You try not to because you know it’s not going to feel great but the blood running down the back of your throat from sitting with your head tilted back makes you cough and you groan at the feeling. “I’m fine. I’m dying, but I’m fine.”

Lucy swats your thigh before she turns to face Joe. “This is a terrible first impression on my roommate, Joe,” she huffs as she takes the water bottle one of the other players grabbed from the concession stand for you.

“Fuck,” Joe breathes, his eyes widening, “fuck! That makes this so much worse.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble, towel muffling your voice as you shift your head slightly and wince at the pain that comes along with the movement. “Help me up,” you huff as you hold the towel to your nose and shift away from the people crowding you. “I’m choking on blood here.”

“Careful,” the nursing major urges as Joe and the pitcher help you up. “You’re probably gonna need some help walking. Mazzello, since this is your fault, it’s only fair you help get her to the emergency room.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joe nods quickly as he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you stead. “Lucy, you or Rami mind driving us? I rode with Blake.”

“I’ll drive,” Rami offers, his voice distant from where he’s stood just outside the gate with Ben who looks almost as green as Max.

“Does anyone else have a towel they want to donate to the cause?” Joe asks as he glances at the blood soaked towel hanging from your hands. It doesn’t appear as if your nose has stopped bleeding any and he’s worried that you might pass out before they can get you to the emergency room. His heart is still pounding and his legs are shaking as one of the players hands him another towel. He shoves half of it into his pocket before he glances at Max. “I know you’ve got her bag, but do you mind grabbing mine?” he asks as he steadies you to begin walking.

“I’ve got it,” Max mumbles, voice still muffled, “please just leave so I can breathe. Text me any updates.”

Not much else is said as Joe guides you through the parking lot to Rami’s car. He helps you into the backseat before he rounds the car and slides in on the other side. Rami and Lucy chat quietly in the front but Joe can’t stop staring at you. His eyes are drawn to the red staining your top, quickly darkening to a rust color, and he feels terrible. Lucy had been talking you up to him for weeks now. She’s been encouraging him to drop by or have dinner with the two of you because she knew that you’d be perfect for him. She’s told him time and time again just how much the two of you have in common and just how well the ways you differ complement one another. She’s painted you to be a dream and the glimpse of you he’d gotten earlier, before he destroyed any and all hope he’d ever have of being with you, was enough to tell him that she wasn’t kidding about you being stunning.

But no matter how perfect for one another Lucy thinks you might be or how pretty he thinks you are, nothing is going to come out of it. He’s sure he’s just broken your nose (and maybe chipped a tooth, although he desperately hopes that’s not the case) and he’s certain that this is going to keep you from ever considering him as anything other than an idiot.

“You guys can head in,” Rami offers as he pulls up at the entrance of the emergency room. “I’m going to find a place to park. We’ll be in soon.”

Joe is practically rushing out of the car before Rami can really stop and you don’t want to laugh because you’re afraid it’ll hurt but you can’t help yourself. You giggle at Joe’s seemingly permanent worried expression and wince at the pain it sends shooting through your nose. “Can you calm down?” you ask him as he guides you into the emergency room. “It hurts to laugh,” you inform him as the two of you approach the desk.

Joe blinks at you, surprised by your nonchalance, but doesn’t get a chance to reply as the nurse on duty hands over an intake form. “Have a seat and fill this out,” she instructs as she hands the paperwork to Joe. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

The emergency room is fairly busy so you know that you’ll be there for a while. You also know that you’re fairly low on the priority list so you settle into one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs and hold out your hand for the clipboard. When Joe doesn’t hand it over, you turn your head and glance at him. “I need to fill that out,” you remind him as he shifts in his chair. He jolts, like a video that’s been on pause and you’ve suddenly pressed play, before he hands over the clipboard with a nod.

“I know I keep saying this,” he begins as he watches you fill out the form, “but I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him with a shrug, “I’ve had worse baseball injuries. A friend threw her bat after a bad call and hit me in the head. My cousin threw a terrible pitch when we were practicing and dislocated my knee. This isn’t even the first time I got hit in the face with a ball. At a tournament in high school, a foul ball hit me in the face and knocked out a tooth. And, no. I’m not telling you which one is fake.”

Joe is surprised at the list of injuries you rattle off and shakes his head. “Sounds like someone doesn’t want you playing ball,” he attempts to joke as he glances around the waiting room and grimaces at the sight of some of the injuries.

“That’s what I thought,” you hum as you sign the first form. “That’s part of why I didn’t play in college. Everything hurt after high school. I’m an injury magnet, I guess. Today was my first time stepping onto a field to play in years.”

He feels terrible that him sending a foul ball straight into your face was the welcome you were given back onto a ball field and he frowns at the new information. “Jesus, that’s even worse than me just hitting you,” he sighs as he catches sight of Rami and Lucy walking into the emergency room. “I’m really sorry that was your welcome back to the sport.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you assure him as you turn to look at him properly for the first time all day. He meets your eyes and can see the sincerity in them. You’re really telling him that it’s alright, that you know he’s not at fault even though he can tell you’re a little annoyed with the injury itself, and he continues to realize why Lucy wanted the two of you together so bad.

Before either of you can continue, Lucy and Rami sit in the chairs across the aisle from you and Lucy asks, “Did they say how long it would be?”

“No,” you sigh as you finish filling out the form. Before you can get up, Rami stands and grabs it from you without a word. You watch for a second as he crosses the room to hand it to the nurse and you smile at Lucy. “He’s a good egg,” you nod as you lean your head back to rest on the wall. “I’ll be here a while, though,” you inform her as you let your eyes shut. “You guys can head home. I’ll call Max to pick me up.”

“You should probably keep your eyes open,” Joe reminds you as he gently nudges your side. “You might be concussed.”

You can feel it, the nausea settling in the pit of your stomach and the ache in your head, so you forego your argument and lift your head. Lucy watches the interaction and settles further in her seat as Rami returns and joins the three of you. “We’re not leaving,” she informs you with a decisive nod. “We will go get food, though, because I know you haven’t eaten and you’re probably starving. What do you want?”

You think about her offer for a moment. Everything sounds amazing but nothing sounds like it’ll be fun to eat. You’re sure that it’s going to hurt to chew, at least for a little bit, so you answer, “A smoothie, please,” as you lean back in your seat and attempt to keep the slowing stream of blood at bay.

Joe takes the bloody towel from your and quickly hands you the fresh one. Lucy watches the exchange with a small smile on her face before she stands from her seat and holds her hand out to Rami. “One smoothie, coming up,” she nods. “Joe, want to come with us?”

“I’ll stay here,” he declines as he leans back in his seat, too. “Someone’s gotta make sure she doesn’t fall asleep.”

After getting exactly the answer she’d hoped for and promising him she’d bring him back a smoothie, too, Lucy and Rami leave the emergency room to set off in search of food. You’re both quiet for a moment, letting the sounds of the emergency room around you wash over you, as you turn your head to stare at Joe. He’s people watching, too busy attempting to figure out what’s wrong with everyone in the waiting room around you, to notice that you’re staring at him.

Up close, you realize that he really is cute. His cheeks seem to be permanently blushed (although you assume that’s because he’s still embarrassed that he almost knocked you out with a foul ball) and his hair is wild from running his hands through it. He’s got a bit of blood on his shirt and you almost feel bad for staining it before you remember it’s technically his fault, anyway. He’s fidgeting in his seat, clearly not comfortable, and you decide to take advantage of the situation to get to know him a little better and take his mind off of the situation at hand.

“I need to stay awake,” you remind him, regaining his attention as you shift in your seat. “Why baseball? Why USC? What’s your life story?” you ask as you shift in your seat to get a better look at him without twisting your neck. “I feel like we have plenty of time to kill.”

Joe stares at you for a moment before he launches into his life story. He tells you all about his parents, about his brother, and about his desire to be a filmmaker someday. He tells you how he met Rami, how he got involved with intramural baseball, and how he managed to fuck up that one hit so badly. He tells you about the pranks he’s been puling on his roommate, Ben, with a cardboard cutout and how everyone has gotten in on the joke. He tells you about his plans for after college and about his desire to move back to New York and start a real life.

He really does tell you his life story and with almost anyone else, you would’ve fallen asleep within minutes. However, Joe has a way of keeping you interested and engaging with you, even if he’s dominating the conversation. He makes things fun to listen to and the pranks that you would find dumb had anyone else told you about them sound genius coming from him.

All of the things that you were worried about with Joe, all of the negatives Max mentioned earlier, turn out to be more positive than anything and you can feel a small smile make a permanent home on your lips as Joe continues to speak. He talks until your name is called, until a nurse comes to guide you back into one of the exam rooms, and he stands to join you but thinks better of it.

He moves to sit back down but before he can, you grab his hand and lace your fingers together. “I’m not a fan of doctors,” you admit, just loud enough for him to hear you. “Mind keeping me company a little longer?”

Joe is surprised that you still want him to be with you, that you’re willing to touch him after he’s practically knocked you out, but he readily agrees and follows you back and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, opposite the side with the doctor’s stool.

After waiting for nearly two hours, the doctor takes five minutes to tell you that, yes, your nose is broken and yes, you have a concussion. She prepares you to have your nose realigned (“You really did a number on it,” she jokes as she gives you the nasal spray) and when the nurse steps behind the curtain to assist, you grab Joe’s hand and grip it tightly.

He flinches at the sound of your whimper of pain and allows you to squeeze his hand as you attempt to breathe through the pain of having your nose realigned. He listens carefully as the doctor gives instructions (he knows you’re a little too out of it to pay much attention) and says a shaky thank you after they’ve finished up. The nurse discards the towel for you both and sends you on your way with a reminder to keep ice on your nose and to have someone stay with you to ensure that you’re alright through the night for the concussion.

You keep your fingers intertwined with Joe’s as the two of you step back into the emergency room waiting area. Lucy and Rami are waiting by the door, smoothies in hand, and you smile as you take the green one from Lucy’s outstretched hand. “They realigned my nose,” you inform her before you take a sip of your smoothie, “and I have a concussion.”

“Someone has to wake her up every few hours to make sure she can wake up normally,” Joe informs Lucy as he takes the purple smoothie from Rami’s outstretched hand. “And, I mean, it’s my fault so I can come over and sleep on the couch or something so I can wake her up,” he offers, his words tumbling out of his mouth quickly as the four of you venture to Rami’s car.

Lucy glances at the pair of you, at your intertwined hands and Joe’s blush, before she smiles. “We could have a sleepover,” she offers with a grin. “Invite Ben and Gwil that way no one will have a problem waking up every few hours. We could binge watch Stranger Things.”

“Sure,” you nod, even though the headache that’s beginning to plague you is made worse by the action, “but whoever wakes me up should be warned that I’m awful to wake up, anyway.”

“That’s true,” Lucy nods, glancing at Joe in the rearview mirror (who she knows will be the one waking you up and taking care of you). “You’re a monster.”

“Think you can handle it, Joey?” you question as you lean your head on Joe’s shoulder and take a sip of your smoothie. He glances down at you and grins. Even with puffy eyes and bruises forming, he still thinks you’re the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. He still feels bad but he no longer feels as if it’s the end of the world. Instead, he feels as if it’s the beginning of something beautiful. So he nods. “I’m pretty sure I can handle it,” he confirms as he squeezes your still intertwined hands.

And hours later, when Rami and Ben and Gwil are all asleep, Lucy pops her head into your bedroom to check on you. She finds you and Joe curled up in your bed, sleepily arguing over who is better, the Yankees or the Mets, and she grins. 

She knew the that the pair of you would be perfect together. All it took was a foul ball.

Author’s Note: Both of my Joe fics have been super long so that’s fun. And they’ve both been college AUs. Write what you know, I guess. Anyway, I love baseball. And I was an injury magnet when I played softball. I got hit in the head four or five times, didn’t have my knee dislocated but I did end up with an imprint of the ball on one of my knees, and I got hit in the side with a pitch once. Absolute injury magnet. Anyway,  I do like the Mets. I somehow end up liking the teams that make me suffer the most. Go figure. Anyway, if anyone has any Joe or Ben Requests, let me know. I’m having fun and I still have two weeks of vacation left!

[introvertguide]

Nashville (1975); AFI #59

Our current movie is probably the most difficult to categorize or summarize, the Robert Altman satire comedy drama musical known as Nashville (1975). The film was nominated for 5 Academy Awards and 11 Golden Globes, but only won a single trophy at both ceremonies and both were for Best Song (Keith Carradine with “I’m Easy”). The eleven GG nominations was a record, but this was likely because the film had four nominations in the Best Supporting Actress category.  This result is somewhat appropriate as the actors really did not get enough time to really stand out except for in their singing, and the academy really did not know what to do with the performances. Same with Best Picture and Best Director (for which the film was also nominated). The artistic merit is there and so is the story, but a lot of it is what director Robert Altman allowed to happen and recognized as beautiful as he went so it is hard to put the movie into standard categories. Not to rule out the competition, the film went up against One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Jaws that year so there was not a lot of chance along the awards circuit. Now I am going to summarize, but I am not going to break down much because there is far too much going on in this film with 24 main characters and all the different plots. Even Roger Ebert said he didn’t completely understand the film, but that it was not likely meant to be completely understood. So here is my best effort to at least put this wriggling puppy of a movie into a manageable basket:

SPOILERS??? I THINK...I AM NOT REALLY SURE IF I AM SPOILING, GUESSING, OR MISLEADING, BUT HERE WE GO!!!

The movie is set in the city of Nashville that is prepping for a presidential campaign stop that will be accompanied by a country music festival. In the days leading up to the rally for a new reform nominee, a bunch of country singers come together to perform. These artists are accompanied by their management, a variety of groupies, and a large number of up-and-comers looking to get discovered. In amongst this group are also journalists, politicians, and aids trying to organize the whole event. 

The movie begins with a mass of characters all showing up at the airport to meet people or greet the public. Of special note is the return of Barbara Jean (Ronee Blakely), a country singer from Nashville that was in an accident in which she got burned and is still recovering mentally. She is greeted at the airport by a country music staple named Haven Hamilton (Henry Gibson). Barbara Jean promptly goes of script and decides that she is going to go and great all of her fans that are being held in the airport building and she suddenly passes out. In the melee that follows everyone trying to leave the airport at the same time, there is a car accident that causes more interactions amongst the characters. 

Another band that showed up at the same time is a folk trio made up of a couple and a guitarist named Tom (Keith Carradine). Tom is a womanizer and sleeps with many of the women who have gathered, including his bandmate, a reporter, a married gospel singer, and a groupie. 

Barbara Jean goes to the hospital for heat exhaustion and she is replaced by a girl that seems linked with Haven Hamilton named Connie White (Karen Black) for a performance at the Grand Ole Opry. Also performing is a black country singer who does not seem to get his due respect in Tennessee. 

There are a lot more characters and a lot more scenes, but I am not about to try break down every single plot line. Mounting tension amongst everyone in an attempt to gain the spotlight, even for a second, builds up to the day of the country folk festival. The line up has the entire cast together in one place and as the festival starts, Barbara Jean sings and she is suddenly shot by a quiet character in the crowd that is a big fan. The movie ends as a singer steps up to the stage and sings to calm the crowd down, giving her a moment to shine in the tragedy that befell another. 

There is quite the mix of genres in this movie because there are definitely set jokes making it a comedy, there is competition and betrayal making it a drama, there is over an hour of singing performances so it is also a musical, and it is set in a parody of the American political system making it a satire. I watched quite a few interviews with Robert Altman to try and get a better idea of his intentions and I am not sure that he knew what the film was beyond a panoramic observation of a Nashville music festival and all the drama and comedy that brought it together. He seems exceptionally elusive when categorizing his film and it seems obvious that he didn’t want that. The film is supposed to be more of an experience than a linear story, which makes the film complicated beyond the simplicity of the music. 

Here is where I might get some hate and I kind of don’t care because it is a personal thing. I have not found that I like country or bluegrass music in general so this particular soundtrack did not do a lot for me. I especially did not like that this is amateur hour as many of the actors (some of whom could not sing) did all of their own music. This made some of the music interludes down right painful. If it were not in my watching rules to not skip ahead, I would have taken a good hour off the run time from all of the exceptionally bad numbers. However. In the long run I am glad I stuck to my rules because I heard 3 songs that I love. I will link those 3 first and I will also link the song that won the Oscar:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pm8PwXOHNPs (Dues) This is sung by actress and professional singer Ronee Blakely. It is the character’s first singing appearance after an accident so she is a little shaky. She is singing about a failing relationship and how there is a desire to stay and try to fix things to what they used to be. Very powerful and she truly has a great voice. I really like this song.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NToTcTiX66g (Since You’ve Gone) This song is right before the award winner and the chorus is a mesh of voices that all sound in pain but still harmonically satisfying, This is my favorite song in the movie as it brings a trio on stage where the woman is married to one member but having an affair with the other. I really believe that this song should have been the one that won the Oscar if it was going to come from this film.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BYyDusJYJo (It Don’t Worry Me) This was another song that was written by Keith Carridine besides the Oscar winner that was sold to Altman. It is played many times throughout the film, but I think that the best version is when a talented singing character is looking for a break and suddenly is tasked with calming the crowd after the tragedy at the primary. She sings so woefully with a heavy dose pain and ends up sounding like Janis Joplin. A church choir backs her up and it ends the movie in a similar way to how “Let the Sunshine In” ends Hair (lots of repetition with a growing number of voices and variation).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p6y47KcuI4Y (I’m Easy)  This seems like a point of intersection for most of the characters in the film and Altman said in many interviews that he bought the song from Carradine before the plot of the movie fully existed. It seems like Altman had the start of the movie from notes by his writing partner Carol Tewksbury and the end where all the characters are at the music festival. The song did win the Oscar and Golden Globe for best song for Carridine but the tune doesn’t impress me. It seems more important to the movie plot since four different women in the room think that the song is in reference to them. Fine plot point, but a boring song for me. 

So does this film belong on the AFI Top 100? Well, I guess so, but maybe not such a high ranking. It is a slice of Americana set in Nashville featuring a very American style of music during an American election. All the characters were very American in the 70s (except the British one). And it was a pretty good movie with a lot happening and special care to the craft. However, the #59 movie in 1997 was Rebel Without a Cause while Nashville was not on the list at all and then that switched completely in 2007. I liked this better than Ben-Hur so I suppose this movie could be on the list, but Nashville should not replace such an iconic American film as Rebel Without a Cause. Finally, would I recommend it? That really depends on the viewer. The movie is very long and has a lot of very complicated plot threads, some of which go nowhere. I can’t say somebody would like it based on the performance of a specific actor or character because 24 people split up the screen time. Being interested in country music, politics, or the lifestyle of the road musician doesn’t mean you will like this movie either. I would recommend this to those who are interested in film making and story development because the ability to incorporate so many things through shot choice, angles, and overlapping dialogue is pretty phenomenal. I don’t think I will watch it again, but it is probably worth checking out for the experience. I like my movies with a little more plot structure, but that is just me. People in the business would probably love this. 

[zairapvrker]

imagine // ben hardy!roger taylor

Prompt: This is inspired by Ariana Grande’s song imagine, written for @bensroger 3k writing challenge ((congrats sweetie!))

Summary: Your life had revolved around Roger for long now and you couldn’t help but stop and think if he imagined it the same as you.

Warnings: a bit of angst, some fluff, nothing major.

Author’s note: this took so long and was quite difficult for me to write bc of this stupid writer’s block i had. i’m sorry if the end feels a bit rushed, i tried my best.

He couldn’t quite believe himself as he thought of the last words he’d said to you. He couldn’t process it was him who’d said that - or even that the sole thought would cross his mind.

If he thought of any moment in his life - any moment that held importance and relevance, any happy, sad, joyful memory - you were by his side. You were there holding him, telling him that everything was going to turn out fine, to trust himself. You were there cheering for him and his friends, helping, encouraging them.

“Fred, don’t touch that!” you yelled as he made his way to the drums. Like a deer caught in headlights - his eyes wide - the singer looked at you. “Rog was just tuning them, if you don’t want to be the subject of his wrath I’d really suggest to not touch them” he nodded in understanding, thanking you for the heads up. He was the new singer of the band and still hadn’t caught onto the quirks of his band mates.

“What would I do without you?” Roger came up behind you, leaving a sweet kiss on your head.

“Probably you’d be dead by now” you answered and he giggled, making his way on the stage to finish what he’d started. It was the third gig they played with the new members and people seemed to like them very much. That had lifted their spirits, but you knew Roger, and you knew he was still nervous and worried about every little thing.

“Thanks for coming” he mouthed to you from his spot behind the drums - noticing you’d been watching him. You smiled sheepishly with rosy cheeks.

As he reached for your soft hand and held it lightly, he tried to hold back the tears. This was not supposed to happen. Things were not supposed to go like they did. Unconsciously, he’d started to draw circles on the back of your hand - something he knew you loved.

It was late at night, in a city you didn’t know. Their last show of the tour had just finished and you were now seated in the corner of a room full of people you’d never seen before, the boys had disappeared with their manager what felt like ages ago. You were growing tired of doing nothing and sitting around, plus, your head was starting to hurt. Huffing in annoyance, you gulped down the last sip of your drink, wanting nothing more than to disappear into the chair you were sitting on. Just when you thought things couldn’t get any better, you saw a mop of blond hair making its way towards you.

“Let’s go” he just smiled, offering you his hand. You took it without hesitation. Roger led you out of the crowded bar and into the fresh air of the night. He took a deep breath, tilting his head up as if to watch at the sky, but keeping his eyes closed. It was a sight to behold.

He then started moving, his hand still in yours, making his way to the side of the street. He stopped a taxi and gave the driver the address of the hotel.

“I could sense your boredom from the other side of the room” he joked, murmuring in your ear.

“Oh, sorry” you huffed ironically. “You left me there alone and lost”

“No, I’m sorry. They told us it would take a few minutes and next thing we knew the whole room wanted to talk to us” he apologised, lightly drawing circles on the back of your hand. A shiver ran down your spine as goose bumps formed on your skin.

As the car came to a stop, Roger was quick to pay the driver and start walking towards the entrance of the hotel. You followed, tired, not noticing he was taking you somewhere that wasn’t your room. He took you to the roof. You asked if you could stay there- in return he grinned. Shaking your head and quietly giggling, you sat down and he soon followed. Cuddled on a lonely deckchair, you hid in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes. It surprised you every time how your face fit there like it was made for doing just that. You sensed him playing with your hair and with his comforting touch you fell asleep.

When you woke up the sun was up in the sky and you weren’t on the roof anymore.

“Good morning, love” he mumbled quietly. You rolled your eyes and smiled. “More like good afternoon” you retorted and he just laughed. Oh, that laugh.

Right then and there, in the silence of his room, you wished you could kiss him. Tell him everything that you wanted from him. But you knew he didn’t think of you the way you thought of him. You sighed quietly as you freed yourself from his embrace - giving him a soft smile - he couldn’t imagine the same world as you.

Silent tears were making their way down his face, his view of you now blurry because of them. He reached for your hair, his hand was shaking as he moved a strand of it away from your pale face.

He wished he’d sprinted out of the room that night, running after you, telling you everything that he’d been keeping inside, keeping from you. But he was petrified. He’d thought the world was going to end right then and there, with you stepping out of the door like you did of his life- unfortunately, it was only his that did.

 You were coming home from a long day at work. You felt exhausted and you wanted nothing more than resting in your comfortable bed with some takeout by your side. Sadly, someone up there had other plans for you that night.

As you opened the door, you didn’t find Roger to greet you. It was weird, since he basically lived at your place now - but you shrugged it off, thinking maybe he was in the shower, while taking off your coat though, you noticed that it wasn’t running. Calling for him, you made your way into the living room. He wasn’t there either. A sense of slight panic made a shiver run down your spine, even if deep down you knew you were being irrational.

Maybe tonight he was going out with the boys and had already left - but he would’ve let you know, a voice in your head told you. At this point you were making up excuses on where he could be, trying to calm down, and right when you were making your way to the phone hung up on the kitchen wall, you heard the door open.

You almost let out a sigh of relief knowing that nothing bad had happened, but your face was quick to fall when you saw who was right by his side. The girl was tall, or maybe it was the heels she was wearing, and had long brown hair. You couldn’t see more as she pressed one last kiss on his cheek and turned around, making her way back down the hall of the apartment building, giggling.

Quickly regaining composure and trying to get rid of the jealousy - he isn’t yours, he isn’t yours- you stood near the entrance with your arms crossed, waiting for him to turn around. As he did, his eyes widened.

“I trust you had a fun night” you said, sounding harsher than you thought you’d manage.

He stayed silent for a second but then walked past you into the living room. You huffed, annoyed, and followed him.

“Why do you even care, Y/N?” he asked flopping down on the sofa. You had to refrain from letting your jaw hit the floor.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve basically been living at my flat for months and when one night I come home expecting to find you here and I don’t, get worried sick- so much that I’m about to call the entire phone book- I shouldn’t care for the wellbeing of my best friend? That you couldn’t even have left me a note?!” at this point you were hovering his lying figure.

“Jesus, Y/N I’m a grown man, I can do whatever I want! But sorry I guess, I’ll let you know next time, mum” he bit back. Letting out a desperate laugh, you took a step back, he was behaving like a child. Breathing in, you deflated - fighting wasn’t going to get you anywhere.

“You may be a grown man but I’m your friend and I got worried not finding you where I’d expected. Sorry if I care about you” making your way out of the living room you heard him mumble under his breath something along the lines of “Maybe too much”

You froze on the spot, turning to face him again. “I’m sorry, what?”

He looked at you and for a moment you could see the guilt in his eyes, but a second later it was already gone.

“I said” he got up from his spot, nearing you. “That maybe the problem here is that you care too much about me”

Your heart sunk at that. “Oh, I’m sorry” you got closer to him, pointing a finger to his chest. “Next time you’re stuck in the dressing room because there’s too many people to get out, or you are so high you don’t even know where you are and it’s too late at night to get home on your own, I’ll make sure to leave you right where you are” you were yelling at this point, though you didn’t care.

“Maybe you should” he screamed back. You were stunned by his words, never in a million years you thought they’d come out of his mouth. In the electric silence of the room you took a single step back, regaining composure.

“When you love someone” you began, throwing conscience out of the window - not caring about anything anymore. “You take care of them, you help them and you support them. Through the dark you’re the light that keeps them going. And maybe I read this all wrong- I know I did- because all these years I wanted to be your light: burning to keep you going so that you didn’t lose your way. But time after time I shone less and less and you brighter and brighter and I’m sick of it. So I guess you did it. You put me out”

With tears brimming in your eyes, stinging and begging to let them spill and wet your face, you took one last breath to say the words you feared the most.

“I loved you too much when you didn’t even notice. I loved you so intensely I would’ve gone to the ends of the World for you. So much I imagined one of our own - one you couldn’t even fathom” slowly taking a step back you allowed one single tear to run down your cheek.

«But I’m done shining for someone who can see in the dark»

You put your coat back on and threw your bag on your shoulder, ignoring Roger’s calls for you. “Y/N, please, come back we can talk about this” he pleaded. “I think you’ve said enough” without turning to look at him one last time, you slammed the front door behind you. While making your way out, you couldn’t help but imagine him following behind you, calling after you to get back inside. But he didn’t. He’s made his choice- you thought.

And he was still regretting not doing it. He regretted it the second he heard the door slam and instead of sprinting down the hallway he helplessly slid down the wall, finally hitting the floor and staying there crying like he was now.

But the guilt hit him deep and hard when the phone rang at three in the morning and he had to get up from his spot - where he’d been sulking for hours, deep in despair- and answer it.

“We’re calling from the London Bridge Hospital, is this Mr. Taylor?” he nodded, then remembering they couldn’t see him.

“Yes, it is” his voice was hoarse and he had to cough to clear it.

“This is the number that’s been written down for emergencies on Y/N Y/L/N’s file” at that he was immediately alert, suddenly awake. “She was involved in a car accident and is now in surgery, do you think you could make it to the hospital-“

He didn’t let them finish the sentence, sprinting out of the flat and out in the streets. Driving as quickly and as carefully as he could he arrived not even ten minutes later.

Launching himself at the front desk he started to frantically ask questions about you. This was all his fault, he should’ve followed you. He was told to wait outside your room, all time he spent cursing himself. He looked like a madman but didn’t care one bit.

“You may go in now” a doctor told him. He kept on talking about your state but he just couldn’t focus on one word. His eyes were on your bruised body, tubes all around it.

“She’s going to wake up eventually, but we still don’t know when. It could be a couple hours as well as a couple of weeks” with those words the doctor left him in the room.

He watched you as he’d been doing the last couple of days. It took him almost a day to call the boys and alert them of his whereabouts and as soon as he did they ran to the hospital, worried for the both of you. He hadn’t had the courage to tell them what had really happened, that this was all his fault.

Many times they told him he had to leave but he wouldn’t budge, even his friends tried but nothing had worked. Your words were still echoing in his head and were keeping him up at night along with the guilt.

You were right - he’d realised. He had been a complete idiot. Over the days he spent by your hospital bed he had time to think back to every moment with you. You see, Roger always knew he loved you, but could never place where the both of you stood. You acted like a couple and basically lived together and you were one of the only people that really mattered to him.

He squeezed your still hand - he couldn’t imagine a world without you. When he tried a wrenching heartache made him wince, and he prayed that you’d wake up soon.

So when you did and saw him there, asleep by your side and his hair a complete mess, you didn’t really care about the pain your body had been hit by- until you remembered his last words to you and what they’d caused. Stiffening, you tried to reach for the button that called a nurse.

“Don’t, I’ll do it” his voice was still the same, but scratchy and deeper, full of emotions you couldn’t quite distinguish.

After the check-up was done, and lasted more than you could endure, you were once again left alone with him.

“I’ll leave you alone and go call up everyone” he said with droopy shoulders.

“Wait” you barely whispered, but he stopped anyway.

Silence filled the air and for the first time since you’d met him, it was heavy. Roger was almost expecting you to say something, but when he realised you wouldn’t, he did.

“I can’t imagine a world without you” he said lowly and only then you noticed the tears in his blood-shot eyes. Roger knew how much those words meant for you, he remembered you asking him half asleep on the deckchair, that night on the rooftop. He was pretty confused then, but now he knew.

Your own eyes widened, thinking you’d misheard him.

He smiled briefly and you knew that smile. It was the one he always gave you to calm you down, tell you that everything would turn out fine. It was short and quite hopeless, but you recognised it nonetheless. You smiled back and his face lit up, he then sat down beside you.

Lifting a hand to caress your face he started talking. “I know I’m late and that I’m an idiot and that this is all my fault. And I’m so sorry for all the pain I caused, so fucking sorry. But it took me almost loosing you to realise that I can’t go on without you” you brushed a tear that was streaming down his face. “So if you ever find it in your heart to take me back, I promise I’ll be there for you always and forever”

By now you were both crying and ignoring the pain your body was in because your heartache was being chased away by his words. You only nodded almost feverishly, and he brought his forehead to rest against yours.

“I love you” he whispered softly against your lips. “And I love you”