#Scrambling to find another actor all weekend
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Big big BIG setback in the one-act process.
My lead actor texted me yesterday morning that he wouldn’t be able to be in the show because of how many other responsibilities he had going on this semester.
Hhhhhhhhhhh….
Folks, when ya commit to a show, you are basically married to that responsibility. As an actor, as crew, as the director. This is the stuff that makes directors cry.
#Scrambling to find another actor all weekend#I have a last resort choice#But I’d really like to keep him a last resort#I shall update y’all about this as I go.#This is why Freshmen are not the best choices for Senior one-act projects#They don’t always understand the responsibilities#Some of them are absolutely brilliant actors#But situations like this make me doubt them
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In My Arms
Sometimes your husband just needs to be held. (lots and lots of fluff)
Cowritten with @winniemaywebber! Also shoutout to Winnie for making yet another incredible playlist for this fic!
Warnings: mentions of cheating (but not really bc there was a war on come on y’all), definitely some historical inaccuracies in here, and plenty of tooth-rotting fluff with a touch of Emotions™️
Word count: 1k (short n sweet!)
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.
Masterlist
In the months since Harry Crosby had returned home, your husband hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you.
He’d always been like that in your more… private moments, of course, but now it seemed to be seeping into your daily lives.
You’d be walking past him to the kitchen and he’d trail his fingers along your arm, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume as it lingered in the air.
He’d wrap his arms around you, hugging you from behind as you were bustling around on a cleaning day.
He’d pepper kisses over every bit of skin he could reach every chance he got.
It wasn’t that you minded— on the contrary, you loved it. But you were curious as to where the behavior had come from.
“Honey?” You ask softly one rainy afternoon as Harry has you tucked under his arm, his fingers trailing over every inch of you he can reach.
“Hm?” He hums contentedly, “What is it, love bug?”
“I’ve noticed that… well, since you’ve been home..” You fumble over your words, trying to find the right thing to say, “You’ve been… touching me, a lot? More than you used to before you left, at least. Not that it’s a bad thing,” you scramble to add, “It’s wonderful, and I’ve missed it so, so much, but… is there a reason for it?”
Harry sighs deeply, seemingly collecting his thoughts before he answers.
“When I was… away…” he begins carefully, “there were lots of things the men used to distract themselves from the anxiety and… well, our day to day lives over there. Physical affection was one of them.” He glances at you nervously, ensuring you understand his meaning before he continues, “I did partake in that once or twice, when it got really bad, but truly aside from that, all of my thoughts and wants were directed towards you.”
“I know, honey, I understand,” you assure him, eyes soft, “There was a war on, you— you did what you had to do to keep yourself sane.”
He relaxes, a weight you hadn’t noticed he’d been carrying since he’d returned suddenly lifted off his shoulders.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he breathes, brushing a kiss to your forehead before continuing.
“There wasn’t a lot of… softness, on the base. We took affection where we could find it on weekend passes, but if you didn’t do that, then it was just a bunch of claps on the back from your fellow airmen, maybe a dance or two with a WAC girl at the Officer’s Club, and not much else.”
You reach up to stroke through his soft curls as he speaks, and he unconsciously leans into your touch as he continues.
“So being home, being with you again…” he sighs, continuing softly “Having someone to touch me again… it’s almost like I have to make up for everything I missed out on. Everything that war made me miss.”
“Oh, my love,” you breathe, hyperaware of every inch of his skin touching yours.
It made sense. Surrounded by other men— soldiers, no less— of course they wouldn’t get the amount of physical affection they were used to, especially if they had wives or sweethearts, and to be stuck there for a year as your Bing had…
Harry lets out a soft sound of surprise as you move into his lap, wrapping your arms around him. You nuzzle into his neck, pressing every inch of your body against him as your fingertips return to raking through his hair.
He melts, his head nosing at the crook of your neck, eyes closed, even as he asks, “Darling?”
“Shhh,” you breathe, “Just let me hold you.”
You feel him sigh against your neck as his hands come up to squeeze you closer, even as he protests, “But didn’t we have things to do—”
“That can wait,” you assure him softly.
The only sound for several long moments is the soft sighs of your heavy breathing, until you speak up again.
“When you got back,” you whisper, “I was so, so happy. So ready for things to go back to normal, to be us again, that I skipped the part where I just let it sink in that you were home, and here.” You lift your head to press a kiss to his temple, “And I’m sorry, my love. I promise I’ll do better.”
You feel your husband shake his head against you, lifting his face to meet your gaze as his hand comes up to cup your face, thumb gently stroking along your cheek.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, sweet girl,” he murmurs, “I’ve got all the time in the world to hold you, now.”
He pulls you in for a sweet kiss as the two of you melt into each other, a soft bubble of sunlight amidst a dark and gloomy day.
You keep holding him for what feels like an eternity. You start to hear him whimper into you, his whole body tense and shaking. You feel wetness from his eyes drop on to your shoulder and you pull away, concern all over your face.
“My love,” you say, your voice slightly strained. “What is it? What's wrong?”
“Oh, darling,” he sniffs, wiping the tears as quickly as they come, obviously embarrassed at showing this emotion. “I'm just–just so happy to be home with you.” You reach a hand out to touch his face, your eyes also filling with the same emotion. You swipe your thumb under his darling puppy eyes, your heart beginning to swell.
“I'm so–” You struggle to formulate the words, your throat closing around all the swallowed emotion. “I'm so happy to have you home, too. I don't want us to ever be apart again, honey.”
“We won't be,” he replies, holding you close and kissing your temple, clinging to one another until your tears are spent.
“I love you, Bing,” you breathe into his ear, fingers toying with the soft curls at the nape of his neck.
“I love you too, darling,” is his soft response, mumbled against your neck as he squeezes you tighter, and you know that you won’t let each other go again for a long while.
#happy mota finale day everyone 🥹#have some fluff to ease some of the bittersweetness <3#masters of the air#mota#harry crosby#harry crosby x reader#masters of the air x reader#mota fic#anthony boyle#anthony boyle x reader#masters of the air fluff#mota fluff#my writing
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Timeless Wells (Flash) Soldier- Chapter 20
After an exhausting day of Harrison’s sickening loving personality, you actually can’t help but smile as you head to Iris’s place for another girls night.
The great thing is some of your other friends were available for the weekend. So tomorrow you all are gonna meet up for a much needed two day vacation.
You step up to Iris’s door, sliding in the key as you enter.
“Hey Iris, why don’t we start at the saloon then work our way down tomorrow.” You call.
There’s no answer, and you close the door, brows furrowed.
“Iris?”
Her car was parked outside.
Your intuition tells you something is wrong. You draw your gun, surveying the room. When your eyes catch the feet of someone. Logic seems to go out the window. The second you step forward, a gun is pointed at your head.
“Peekaboo.”
The blond male is wearing a sinister smile, and you grunt when you’re struck in the jaw. Your body drops to the ground, and you try your best to collect yourself long enough to aim your gun.
“(Y/N)!!”
Iris’s scream from above distracts you. There’s a thud that follows, and he kicks the gun right out of your hand. The body on the ground was not who you assumed. It’s a battered Barry Allen. From the looks of it he’d put up quite a fight. Justin kicks you again in the gut. You grab at his leg, throwing him onto the ground. His body crashes to the ground and you scramble to get your gun. It’s all the way across the room.
“Stop!!” You freeze midstep.
Justin is standing over Barry with his gun aimed at his head.
“Take another step and I’ll blow a hole through his head. “
You lift your hands.
“Okay.”
You need to be smart. Find some way to throw him off. Had you been alone you would have rushed in irrationally. Because truthfully that would be the only way to get the upper hand in this situation. This man is unhinged. So reasoning would be pointless. He was here for revenge. That day when you’d imagined him in the parking lot you should have followed up.
“You’re sloppy.” Justin taunts.
He was right.
“You know when you figured out the method actor was just a distraction, I was impressed. You should switch careers. You’d make a great detective."
He approaches slowly, and you don’t dare move.
“I mean who would even guess that I planted a bomb. I was curious how you put it all together.”
“What did you do to Iris?”
He smirks.
“Just tied her up. All that struggling in the chair must have really worn her out. From the thud that we heard she’s probably unconscious now. The excessive screaming stopped.”
You glare.
If she’s unconscious there’s a possibility of severe injury. You can’t see, and that’s what leaves you weary. Barry’s injuries also look pretty serious. There’s a bruise on his forehead, and you can only imagine the ones that aren’t currently visible.
“What do you want?”
Now might be time to negotiate.
“Now we’re talking. I want you to tell me exactly what happened that day. “ His expression has changed drastically. He’s no longer cocky, but he looks a bit enraged.
“I know what I saw that day, there was no way you could have stopped me on your own. There was a man in a freaking spandex suit. He didn’t even speak. I saw him for one minute and then just like that he was gone. I’M NOT CRAZY!!”
He sounds deranged for a guy claiming not to be crazy.
“So what, you want me to validate what you said. I’ll do it.”
“No no!!” He shook the gun, and your eyes marked it carefully.
“See that mystery man in red isn’t the only freak I noticed. After I paid off the guard to get me out, I did a little research. Harrison forgets that I was good in all aspects of my job. Hacking a database is simple when you know what to look for. Imagine my surprise when our very own Harrison Wells just transports himself from one place to the next."
His statement stops you cold.
“That got your attention. You don’t look very surprised. You didn’t even flinch.” He starts laughing.
“I have proof too. So what is society going to say when such a highly esteemed man is actually some inhumane freak."
“NO ONE WILL EVER- "
The gunshot echoes, and you stare down at your abdomen in shock. Justin is still smiling, and two more bullets struck you in the chest. You fall backwards, gasping. Looking up, all you can see is the twisted expression on Justin’s face. You try to gather your breath. But between the pain throughout your body, and your fight to stay conscious, you’re struggling.
“Stay awake..stay awake..”
You don’t even realize that you’re saying it aloud. Justin looks proud of himself.
“You should have never crossed me Yale.”
It’s the last thing that you hear before your body gives up the fight.
#soldier#bodyguard#harrison wells#timeless#alternate universe#flash#change#protective#feelings#family
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jumper (2/14)
Sand is not kind to Shadow's air shoes.
For the sixteenth time that day, he is thrown violently into the desert floor after too much sand slipped into his shoes' jets and stopped their propulsion. He rolls once, twice, until he comes to a stop in the scorching sand.
With a hiss, he scrambles to his feet and shakes the sand out of his fur. All of this is terrible. Those stupid motherfuckers at the colony are going to pay for dumping him out here to die.
Don't they know killing him is really hard? If he were as fragile as everyone else, he probably would've kicked the bucket a long time ago. Does his existence as the Ultimate Lifeform mean nothing to them?
Whatever. He's sure that they'll realize the error of their ways when he returns to kill them all.
After an hour or so of walking, he finds a rock formation flat enough to sit on. Some of it is covered by the shade of a boulder, so he might even be able to rest out of the sun for a bit! How lucky.
Once he's settled in, he takes off his air shoes and carefully cleans the sand from the jets. The process takes at least twenty minutes per shoe. Really, it might be worth walking the rest of the way if it means he won't have to clean out his shoes twice an hour. He'll reach the colony later than planned, but at least he'll be less frustrated by the time he gets there.
He straps his feet back into his shoes, and then hears a sonic boom in the distance.
Oh, now isn't this just perfect.
He follows a cloud of kicked up sand with his eyes as Sonic approaches his location. Like usual, it takes no time at all for the blue hedgehog to get there.
Sonic skids to a stop next to him. He pants with exhaustion and looks at the sky with apprehension. "The sun is really killer these days, huh?"
Shadow gives him a level look. "You could say that."
In a stupid gesture, Sonic feigns wiping sweat off his forehead and then finally meets eyes with Shadow. It's stupid because hedgehogs sweat through their bellies. Why bother even going through the motion if it has no benefit?
"Whew! Anyways, long time no see." Sonic breaks eye contact to survey the area. "Is it really like this everywhere? I thought the colony people were lying when they said the whole world was a desert."
"They're telling the truth. The world fucking sucks."
For a moment, Sonic looks like he wants to say something. He seems to decide against it with a small shake of his head, then awkwardly leans back on his heels. A few minutes of silence pass before he speaks again.
"Are you going to kill them?" Sonic asks. He says it casually, with the levity of someone inquiring about another person's weekend plans.
Shadow raises an eyebrow at the question. "Will you stick around long enough to stop me?"
Sonic clicks his tongue and puts a hand on his hip. "You're not allowed to ask me that."
No matter how important the rules of their interactions are, they can be pretty annoying. "Fine. Then yes, I do plan to kill them. They deserve it."
He wonders how Sonic feels about it. If he met the same colonists that Shadow did, then he would know all about their post-apocalyptic slave empire. He would also know that Shadow had been banished after attempting to destroy them.
Sonic probably has very strong thoughts about that colony. Perhaps those thoughts carry more weight than his personal ethical philosophy.
Like usual, Sonic does not make these feelings known. He simply nods and says, "Yeah, okay."
Shadow gives him a once-over, then stares at him for so long that Sonic becomes visibly uncomfortable. Still, he does not let up. There is something about this situation that feels wrong. There is something missing.
Finally, he finds it.
"You're a bad actor," he says with a smirk. Sonic's eyes widen a little in surprise. "You've gone farther than this before. This entire world is the result of a massive ecological disaster--a personal nightmare scenario for you, I'm sure. Shouldn't you be freaking out right now?"
Sonic groans. He holds up a hand. "Stop. Just--stop. You are breaking so many rules right now."
Still, Shadow pushes. "If you're going to do this, you need to get better at acting. You can't make it so easy for me to figure this stuff out."
"These are your rules too, Shadow." Sonic is now visibly frustrated; his arms are crossed over his chest and one of his ears twitches in annoyance. "You have to follow them as much as I do."
With a shrug, Shadow leans back and lays down on the rock. He closes his eyes and smiles. "Leave, Sonic. This isn't a good place for you."
It takes some time for Sonic to finally cave to Shadow's request. Without saying goodbye, he takes off in a cloud of sandy dust and disappears into the distance.
They don't really need to say goodbye. They will see each other again soon.
#writing these quickly bc like. why not#no edits no anything lololol sorry#fic: jumper#my fics#redposts
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!!!!!!!!
#ARE YOU ACTUALLY FRIGGIN KIDDING ME#I SHIT YOU NOT RIGHT YESTERDAY A FEW MINUTES BEFORE SCHOOL WE GET A TEXT FROM ONE OF THE ACTORS IN OUR ONE ACT#WHICH WE ARE PERFORMING IN A (STATE) COMPETITION THIS WEEKEND#TELLING US THAT HE IS INTELLIGIBLE AND THEREFORE WILL NOT BE ABLE TO GO!!! TO THE PERFORMANCE!!!!#so we scramble to figure it out and we got a guy to do this dude's part#and this guy is (in my opinion) a shitty person and an even shittier deamatic actor#(this play is DARK)#but whatever he'll have to do bc we have literally TWO DAYS UNTIL WE ARE SUPPOSED TO DO THIS STATE COMPETITION#today we double check the schedule of competitions and GUESS WHAT#THIS DUDE THAT WE HAD TO PUT IN LAST MINUTE IS COMPETING IN ANOTHER EVENT AT THE SAME GODDAMN TIME AS OUR ONE ACT#SO WE ARE IN THE MIDST OF SCRAMBLING TO FIND ANOTHER GODDAMN ACTOR WHO CAN FRIGGIN PERFORM WITH US SO THAT WE CAN COMPETE#ALL THANKS TO THIS ASSHOLE THAT DECIDED NOT TO CHECK IF HE WAS SAFELY ELLIGIBLE WHEN HE AND WE HAD ENOUGH TIME TO PREPARE#I'm losing my goddamn mind#i have never used 'goddamn' so much in my life but i feel like that word describes my feelings well#WHY CAN'T I EVER GET A BREAK WTF#AGHHHHGGGGJJJHGHDSJSJSKKKK#I!!!! AM SO!!!!! ANGRY!!!!!!!!!!#RREEAAHAHHHHKSJDAAAAAHHHHH#i swear to god sometimes i feel like I'm the only competent actor in my theatre class/troupe#why the hell is no one else helping#why the hell is no one else being a competent person???? why am i THE ONLY GODDAMN RESPONSIBLE BITCH#also i am so sorry i bitch so much on tumblr and i apologize but that's why i put it all in the tags so y'all don't have to read it#if you're not in the right headspace to receive information that could possibly harm you (i had to I'm sorry)#no but like that but in a legit way#love y'all thanks for listening to my problems and watch me go insane and lose a few too many years off my life bc of 1 (one) goddamn class#that i THOUGHT was gonna be SO MUCH FUN#me @ myself: you dumb bitch#delete later :)
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Cold dinners and long days
This one is for beloved @jaskierswolf because I want to, and because sometimes we all need some somft.
Please enjoy some enby!Jaskier and sweater-stealing Dandelion just being somft. <3
And as always, beta read by my darling @kuripon.
On Ao3 here
Jaskier has had a very long day. They love their job, but ugh, sometimes it is just so draining. The worst part about being an adult, they complain to Dandelion when they lie together in bed on the weekends.
Dandelion would thread his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, twisting and braiding and playing with the soft and all too short strands. Jaskier would always melt, resting their head in Dandelion’s lap as they hum together.
That is why they are so eager to get home tonight. Dandelion has sent at least three pictures already, wearing the knitted sweater he steals all the time that is actually Jaskier’s , blond curls draping over his shoulder as he hides in the neckline of it. It’s adorable, and a pang of longing shoots through them.
Fuck, they just want to go home. They just want to cuddle up to Dandelion and watch a bad movie.
When Jaskier opens the door from the flat, they can hear Dandelion talking somewhere inside. They kick off their shoes and throw the bag on the floor.
“Yeah, they should be home any minute now.” Jaskier hears Dandelion say. “Yes, Geralt, I know where the box is. Jeez, you are more nervous than I am.”
What? What are they up to now?
Jaskier’s heart makes a little flip.
“I’m hooome,” they call, and they can hear Dandelion scramble in another room.
“Shit, they’re here, gotta go. Yes, of course I will. No, hush, shut up Geralt,” Dandelion hisses and then he appears in the doorway, looking slightly guilty and tossing the phone carelessly behind him.
“Hello, Jask love,” Dandelion says quietly, and Jaskier just melts. He is indeed still wearing that knitted sweater and his hair is all loose and all of today’s heavy feelings just… they don’t disappear but they take a big step into the background.
“Hi,” Jaskier says, and then they find themselves wrapped up in a big hug.
“Long day?” Dandelion asks, kissing their temple.
“The longest.” Jaskier sighs, hiding their face in Dandelion’s neck.
“Were you talking to Geralt just now?”
Jaskier feels Dandelion tense around him and Jaskier smirks. Got him.
“Yep,” he says, voice a little strained, the way he sounds when he is holding something back but really, really wants to talk about it.
“What did he want?” Jaskier asks; they can’t help but to tease.
“Just uh… He wanted help with Roach?”
“What’s wrong with her?” Jaskier asks, hiding their smile by nuzzling deeper into the crook of Dandelion's neck.
“Nothing, he uh.. he just wanted help?” Dandelion says, and oh, he is such a bad liar. Actor, sure, a great actor. But a good liar, that he is not.
Jaskier decides to stop torturing him and pulls back.
“Do we still have oreos? I could really use some oreos right now,” they say, strolling into the kitchen. And then stops dead in their tracks.
On the table, there are candles, napkins folded into birds, more candles, a big bouquet of roses, and did they say candles?
“Oh,” they say, eyes wide, and Dandelion comes up behind them, wrapping his arms around them.
“Surprise,” he whispers in their ear, and they shiver, just a little. “I have something else for you as well.”
Dandelion lets them go and disappears into their bedroom. There is some shuffling, and then they can hear Dandelion’s soft steps returning.
“Turn around for me?”
Jaskier turns so that their back is towards Dandelion. There is some more shuffling and some creaking knees.
“Alright, you can look.”
Jaskier’s heart is beating out of their chest, nervous flutters running all the way out their fingertips. Gods, is this really happening?
Jaskier turns, and indeed, there is Dandelion on the floor, kneeling on one knee and holding up a small velvet box.
“You know I am shit at keeping secrets.” Dandelion smiles, and Jaskier makes a broken sound.
“Fuck.”
“I thought I should just do this now, or I won’t be able to function at all. Jaskier. I-” Dandelion draws in a breath and blinks hard a few times.
“Julek.”
Yep, yup, Jaskier also has to blink hard, but the tears still spring up. Holy macaroni, this is really happening. Fuck.
“Julek, you are the light of my life. I can’t, no, I refuse, to imagine a single day without you in it. You have the best taste in sweaters and nail polish-” Jaskier snorts through the tears and Dandelion smiles. “and your smile, oh, Jaskier, your smile makes my heart race.”
Jaskier can’t help it, they have to put a hand in front of their mouth to muffle the little sounds that really want to get out.
“Will you marry me?” Dandelion barely gets the question out before Jaskier is over him, throwing their arms around his neck.
“Yes, you absolute sap, you,” Jaskier sobs as they fall to the floor, the ring box clattering on the floor, rolling under a nearby cabinet.
“Shit, no, the rings!” Jaskier sniffles.
They laugh together, share a kiss, and then they just roll to their sides trying to fish out the little velvet box that, of course, went into the furthest corner.
“Geralt will be so mad at me if we lose it,” Dandelion says, laughing. Jaskier has to stop and just look at him for a moment.
“You are so beautiful,” they breathe.
“You are going to make me cry again,” Dandelion mutters, and then he makes contact with the small box. “A hah!”
They lean back towards the cabinets, legs tangled together and dust bunnies clinging to their shirts. Dandelion puts the ring on Jaskier’s finger, and they put the matching ring on him.
They are so wrapped up in each other that dinner gets cold, but that is alright.
Nights on the floor with each other are worth all the cold dinners and long days in the world.
#dandelion/jaskier#the witcher#modern au#jaskilion#dandelion#jaskier#knitted sweaters#proposal#dust bunnies#i don't know#why do i always write and post after midnight#i don't make sense#anyway#please have some bard softness#dapanda writes
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heart of gold (chapter three)
pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)
warnings: domestic abuse (god sorry), jimmy bein’ a simp :)
words: 3.4k
summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.
author’s note: new oc alert!! this character was based off a little friend of mine... who’s helped me like. immensely. babe ily. also god this one hurt to write i'm sorry guys. hope you enjoy :)
chapters: 1 | 2
masterlist
playlist
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The waning light of the late afternoon sun filters in through the grand windows, stained glass painting the room a myriad of colours. Polished maple shelves line the walls, packed to the brim with dusty tomes. Comfortable armchairs sit around a side table, the gilded siding gleaming. On its surface sits a dainty teacup, still steaming.
Florence strides through the aisles of the library, trailing a finger along the worn spines. The lady of the house divides her time most often between the beautiful music room and the library, as Allen leaves her to her devices, most of the day. Running a city, he always says, takes a lot of work, dear. She’s not complaining at all, if it puts her at a difference from the barbarian she is lucky enough to call a husband.
Stopping, finally, she pulls a book from the shelf, running her fingers across the letters decorating the cover, fingers catching lightly on the grooves. ‘Wuthering Heights’, the cover reads, and Florence nods, content with her choice. Drifting across the room, she settles comfortably into the plush chairs, reaching a hand out to grasp the handle of the teacup beside her. Soft spice settles over her tongue, and her chest fills with warmth, the steaming beverage warding away the slight chill in the room. Cracking open the cover, her eyes drift over the slightly yellowed pages of the novel.
“I have just returned from a visit to my landlord—the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society…”
The woman recites the words on the page, voice drifting high into the rafters as it flutters past her lips. Florence has always enjoyed reading aloud, as it made her feel as though she was not alone. That someone hears her, and cares to listen to the words that flow from her mouth. Allen hated it, in the beginning. When he had given her the time of day, and cared for her. Promises of forever tumbled from his lips then, instead of the insults and hurt that dripped, like a slow poison, from them now.
Shaking her head clear of those thoughts, she continues. An hour passes, then another, and Florence loses herself in the narrative. These characters, brutal and flawed, intrigued her. They enchanted her, and she was unable to put it down.
Until a set of heavy footsteps, thunderous against the polished floors, near the door to the library. She knows exactly who it is, spending as much time as she had training herself to recognize his gait. Shutting her novel with a loud snap, she looks around the room. Everything is in its place; the room is pristine, as always. Smoothing down her dress, a bright yellow with lace at the hem, she waits for the inevitable. The click of the door opening rings through the suffocating silence of the room, and Allen strolls in, perfect image maintained by his coiffed hair and expensive pinstripe suit.
“Florence, my dear. I knew I might find you here.”
“Allen, is there something wrong?” Florence replies, the hands that rest on her lap subtly trembling as she gazes at her husband. He seems to be in a good mood today. Florence only hopes it can stay that way.
“We will be putting on a ball in the coming weeks, to celebrate my proficiency as mayor. Now,” Allen slips closer to his wife, and brings a hand to her chin. Holding her in place, he presses closer, looking directly into her hazel eyes. “I hope I won’t need to reiterate this. Please do try and behave.”
“O-of course, Allen, I will—”
“We wouldn’t want a repeat performance of recent festivities, would we?”
His words make Florence’s blood boil. She sees the world in shades of angry red, and clenches her fists as tight as she can, hiding them from Allen’s view. Her knuckles are painted white with the strain of keeping her composure. A few weeks have passed since Allen rained pain and devastation upon his household, but the wounds both mental and physical are not so easily hidden, swept aside.
Pasting on an agreeable smile, cheeks straining with the effort, she nods her head. Florence knows that if she plays by his rules, she’ll remain unharmed. He’ll finally leave her alone.
“I will be on my best behaviour. Please, do not worry, dear.”
Allen tilts her head up further, to stare right into her eyes. Florence would love nothing more than to deal him the pain that he had dealt to her. To John, and to James. Instead, she raises her hand, laying it across Allen’s, as she gazes earnestly back. Touching him feels horrifyingly wrong, and it's as though fire laps at her palm.
“You will need a gown, no doubt.”
“I was planning to go into town with Ms. Weston. You remember, she—”
“I do not care who accompanies you. I care, darling, that you do not embarrass me,” The man smiles at her, sharp canines glinting dangerously in the fading sunlight, and he presses his lips to her cheek. His scent, sharp and cloying, nauseates her. Allen stands up to his full height, which, admittedly, was not much, and moves for the door. Turning back to look at her once more, he takes her in almost hungrily. “I wonder, Florence, if you still look as lovely unclothed as you do in this dress. Perhaps tonight, we may find out?”
With a sneer and a chuckle, he walks out the door, closing it behind him.
Florence’s hands unclench, finally, as subtle pain rips through her palms. Gazing down at the skin of her hand, she sees deep pink crescents. One of them is streaked lightly with blood. She had broken the skin, it seems.
Trembling hands retrieve the book from the table it had been left on, and Florence opens the cover once more. Eyes drifting down to read, she can’t seem to make sense of the words, anymore. Florence is shaken, and she knows that it is precisely what Allen wants.
It is but a game for him; a battle of control. He’s winning.
---------
“You mean to tell me that he… Oh, Florence…”
The chime of nails against delicate china rings through the luxuriously decorated sitting room, as Florence passes a teacup, the steam wafting from the top following the scent of rich spices, to the woman sitting on the plush divan. Her dress, a pastel lavender, meets the floor in a stream of tulle. Dark tresses, pulled back in a small, loose braid, curl as they fall across her shoulders.
“Emma, I have no idea what to do.”
Emma Weston had known Florence longer than she could remember. They had met when they were young, and since then, they’ve been almost inseparable. That is, until Allen came along. Slowly, almost inch by inch, he had pushed Emma out of the picture, further isolating his wife. The women seemed to meet less and less over the years, now coming together a few times a month. Emma was unmarried, and rather educated, which almost seemed to scare the man. A favourite quote of his pops into Florence’s head, then: “Educated women, well, they’ll bring the downfall of humanity.” To the women, of course, it served as a nice bit of comedy.
“My dear friend, I… Is there anything I can do?” Emma lays a hand on Florence’s shoulder, earnest eyes locked on those of her friend. Florence meets her gaze then, and the glassy hazel eyes unnerve the woman. They look defeated. “Florence, we will fix this, somehow.”
“If that is possible…”
Emma shakes her head, eyes blazing with a incendiary anger she must keep hidden from the woman sitting next to her. Florence, naive as she might have been upon entering the relationship, has done nothing to warrant this treatment, this violence. Every mention of the horrors; the atrocities, that have been committed in this house makes the woman’s blood burn in her veins. Emma settles her hand over Florence’s, rubbing calming circles into it. She knows how the other woman ticks, after the years they’ve spent together, and she can see the slight tremors that pass through her. She’s scared. Why wouldn't she be, with a husband like that, Emma thinks.
“Florence,” The sentence almost tumbles out, but she catches herself. Florence has always disliked pity, felt that it was counterproductive and useless. It does nothing to help the situation, so there is no need for it. Emma changes the subject swiftly, a bright smile tilting up the corner of her painted lips. “What else have I missed? Surely you’ve gotten up to much, with your lovely husband gone so often.”
A moment of unusual silence passes, as a blush darkens Florence’s cheeks, pink shades dancing with the freckles that linger on her skin. “Well,” Florence starts, hands fidgeting in her lap as she looks anywhere but at her friend. With a fortifying sigh, she releases the words trapped in her throat. “I’ve… I’ve been writing to a man. An actor, from the theatre we frequent.”
“Oh? How long have the two of you been corresponding? Do tell me more!”
“A month, as of next weekend—”
“A month? Florence, it’s been a whole month, and you didn’t think it right to tell me? I thought we were friends… ”
“Emma,” Florence starts, scrambling to reassure her friend, until she glimpses the smirk that dangles from her lips. A relieved sigh fills the silence that had fallen over the two, and Emma’s giggle lights up the room. “You were joking…”
“Of course I was! Now, tell me more about this mysterious actor. What do you know of him?”
“Well, I do not know his name, unfortunately. This… this is my fault. If he knew who I was; if he knew Allen, he would never give me the time of day. Emma, he is beautiful, of mind, body, and soul.”
“How do you mean?”
“It was his appearance, initially, that attracted me. He was simply irresistible,” Florence’s cheeks flush deep scarlet, as an unconscious smile blossoms across her cheeks. Her hands slash through the air as she recounts her first sighting of the elusive actor. “…James and John, thankfully, had the mind to encourage me to contact him. Emma, he is poetic and charming, yet he isn't haughty in the slightest, like some who share these traits. He’s always been perfectly kind, and charisma drips from every pore. Every letter I receive from him… Goodness, Emma, it has the same effect on me that his performance had.”
“Perhaps you should invite him to the ball.”
It was a simple statement, yet those 8 words ring like sirens in Florence’s head. Her blush deepens, and she stammers out a response, nervous hands smoothing down nonexistent wrinkles on her gown. With a deep breath, she recovers, and locks eyes with Emma, who hides a smile behind a dainty hand.
“Have you gone completely mad?”
“Think about it,” Emma starts, revealing the amused smile that she had tried to hide. Taking in the way Florence’s mouth hangs open in shock, her eyes wider than saucers, Emma continues, a giggle fluttering in the air of the expensive room. “You could slip away from the other patrons, somewhere Allen would never find you, and meet the man that stole your heart.”
Florence remains frozen, as though she were a component of a still-life painting. Her blush-pink lips form an O, and her eyebrows creep close to her hairline. Her hands, the only thing in motion, are a flurry of movement as she fidgets under Emma’s watchful gaze.
“Florence, honestly, is it truly that preposterous of an idea?”
“O-of course it is! Emma,” The woman of the house shakes her head emphatically, mind racing to come up with the perfect excuse as to why this idea, although tempting, was utterly absurd. “Look, if Allen ever… I could never subject this… this angel to that.”
“If you think it’s best not to, then I will stand with you. This is, of course, common knowledge. What I will never do, however, is sit idly by and watch you throw away your happiness, again.”
Silence sits heavy over the two women, the only sound being the light slurping of tea gone cold. Emma, chancing a glance over at her long-time friend, takes in the quiver and shake of her hand. Florence sets the fragile china cup, painted a pale sky blue, on the wooden surface of the table that rests in front of them, and relaxes back into the comfortable settee.
“Is… Is James able to attend? The ball, I mean.” The relative quiet is broken by Emma, voice faltering as she curls into herself. For as long as Florence could remember, Emma has only had eyes for James. Whenever she came to the manor, her eyes would roam the chiseled marble hallways for even a short glimpse of him, and a deep blush seemed to dust her cheeks whenever he was in the room.
“I believe he and John are working that particular night, although… perhaps you could steal him away for some time alone?”
“Florence!”
The peals of laughter that fill the room muffle the hurried footsteps fast approaching, a choked gasp and the sound of falling papers finally making the two women look up. James stands by the door, shoulders hunched as he locks eyes with Emma across the room. A collection of envelopes litter the floor, and James, scrambling to his knees with a squeak, rushes to retrieve them.
A wordless glance passes between the two friends, and Florence nods, a subtle smile lighting up her face. Emma stands, flattening down her dress with clammy hands, walks up to the man, and he looks up at her under his eyelashes, hands stilled by her appearance.
“E-Emma! H-hello, I…”
“James, your face… are you alright?”
The man nods emphatically, almost thrumming with nerves as he replies, “it was nothing, Emma. You need not worry for me.”
Her hand, palm up, rests upon his cheek as she takes in the bruising, subtle now after the days that have passed, that mottles his pale skin. Florence can almost hear the rapid beating of his heart as he gazes up at her from his position on the floor.
“I can't help my worry for you, James,” Clearing her throat awkwardly, Emma shifts her gaze to the tiled floor, her eyes widening when she glances at the stationary strewn across the ground.“May I… or rather… Do you need help?”
The servant gulps audibly, and nods, cheeks an angry scarlet to compliment the fading tones of purple. The woman kneels next to him, and retrieves the fallen letters. Glancing at it briefly, her eyes light up excitedly, as she gazes at James.
“Are these invitations for the ball?”
“They are. I was to go around the town handing them out, just now.”
Two hands brush as they reach for the last envelope, and pull back, as if electricity had struck them upon contact. Florence hides a beaming smile beneath her hand as she watches her friends. They simply cannot look away from each other. James coughs, breaking the tension that had settled over the two, and they scramble back, each holding a portion of the letters. Two piles become one, and Emma steps back, the hand rubbing at her arm betraying the picture of calm she was trying to emulate.
“M-Miss Weston, always a pleasure. How are you?”
“I-I am well, James. And you?”
“Very well. May I say, you look… lovely.” The conversation peters out as their gazes flit to the ground, and Florence, from her perch behind them, can’t help but giggle. The sound propels the servant into action, and he thrusts an envelope into Emma’s hand, backing away as if he was burned by the feel of her hand on his.
“I was supposed to stop at your residence, but since you are already here…”
With that, he turns tail and rushes out of the room, leaving Emma standing, slack-jawed. Slowly, she turns around to meet Florence’s eyes, and the disbelief present on her face is almost comical.
“Perhaps you will be the one to slip away for a moonlit dance in the end, Emma.”
With well wishes, and an earnest promise to find dresses for the ball, Emma departs, stepping into her own carriage. The flush on her cheeks was still visible.
---------
“Of all the times to run out… Just my luck.”
Soft footsteps spatter like rain across the staircase, as Florence mutters to herself. Dashing into her bedroom, she searches every nook and cranny, pulling back with a grunt dripping with frustration. The supply that had sat on the desk against the wall was usurped, and there were no traces of any sheets in the rest of the mansion’s many rooms. Except for one.
Rushing across the hall, Florence stops in front of a pinewood door, intricately carved as most things within the manor happen to be.
Allen’s study, as she’s been told time and time again, was never to be entered, by anyone except the man himself. It’s rarely ever locked, though his intimidation serves as enough of a barrier from entering, until today.
All she needs is paper, after all. About to pen yet another letter to her nameless angel, she lacked the most important element: the paper itself. Where better to find a much-needed slip, than in a study, Florence thinks as she turns the gold-gilded knob. She opens the door only to be greeted with beautiful, wide windows of stained glass, which turn the sunlight into vibrant shades of red and green. Against the wall, a bookshelf stands tall, books of every genre imaginable lining it. Against the far wall, a well-polished mahogany desk, complete with winding embellishments around the edge, sits before an elegant leather armchair.
No paper in sight, of course.
A sigh reverberates off of the maroon walls, as Florence pulls open a drawer, careful to leave things as proper as possible so as to not alert Allen. Shuffling through the first, she finds a variety of legal forms and journals, and her frustration simmers inside of her. Moving on to the second drawer, she tugs on the wood-furnished handle, and her heart shatters.
Sitting prim and proper, face up in the drawer, was a letter addressed to Allen. In a curling script that, distinctly, was not hers, reads: “To my beloved, Allen.” This one note, this blasted letter, lays on a bed of dozens of others, all addressed in the same way, in the same sprawling hand. Florence can feel streams of crystalline tears trickle down the flaming apple of her cheeks, and a violent scream catches in her throat. Her insides burn in rage, in fury, in betrayal, and if not for her grip on the desk, she would have crumpled to the floor. There were no dates printed upon the envelopes, though, judging by the sheer amount, it is safe to say that this had been going on for quite a while. Long before she had laid eyes upon her actor.
Under the pile of deceitful notes, almost mocking her, sat the coveted paper. Ripping it out of the drawer, Florence turns, eyes sweeping the room for anything out of the ordinary. Seeing perfection, she tears out of the room, crossing the hall into her chambers. She sits herself down, defeated, on the chair adjacent to the small desk. Her head falls forward into her palms, resting there until, suddenly, she slams a hand down onto the lacquered tabletop.
Allen Bennett has stolen her livelihood. He has stolen her happiness; stolen everything that he saw worth taking. Greed seeps from every pore, and there are no consequences. Allen Bennett is a foul, demonic man, and Florence must play the role of the angel. The perfect wife. She must act as Allen’s toy, only of use to him when he needs a night of pleasure.
Curling her hands into rigid fists, the woman nods resolutely, and lunges across the desk. Trusty fountain pen in a clenched hand, Florence seizes the newfound sheets, and soon enough, a river of ink flows across the page. Teardrops that trickle down the slope of her nose serve as the signature.
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#robert plant#led zeppelin#robert plant fanfic#robert plant x oc#led zeppelin fanfic#robert plant fanfiction#classic rock fanfic
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The Meeting
Warnings: implied intercourse, but not described
A/N: First story that I am posting! I have four more parts, so if you like it, leave me a comment and I will post the others :)
Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece on Charlie Gillespie. In no way do I claim or declare that Charlie’s portrayal is accurate to real life. I do however, own Teagan Valencia :)
Masterlist
The Teagan Valencia Series: The Meeting / The Fight / The Proposal / The Present / The Recovery / The Future
The Meeting
“Quiet on set...! And...Action!”
Teagan watched in silent adoration as Charlie delivered his lines. She didn’t always have the opportunity to sneak away from work to watch him work, but today was an exception. The second season was well underway in the filming process and their popularity was increasing. Kenny noticed Teagan out of the corner of his eye and motioned her over so that she could watch the scene from the monitor. She was amazed at how Charlie looked playing Luke. She had met him three years ago when he was filming Season 1, but yet the boy on camera looked exactly like he did that same day three years ago.
***
Teagan had been visiting Vancouver that weekend to visit family and help her sister get settled. Her little sister had been accepted into the University of British Columbia in the Business program studying Accounting and Finance. She was the pride and joy of filipino immigrant parents as she was attending an esteemed university and getting a degree. All the while their oldest, Teagan, had opted for a non traditional method of getting into the marketing industry by working for a popular canadian clothing brand. Her sister was going to be a university graduate while Teagan worked her way up the ladder in a retail store. Teagan always knew that going to school wasn’t where her path was taking her, but she always knew that hard work, determination and experience were valuable assets in the job market. Something her parents would never understand.
“Charlie watch out!”
They were walking around Gastown in their cute summer dresses killing time before their dinner reservation, when Teagan was knocked over by another person. As she got her bearings, she felt cold liquid on her chest and the weight of another body. The other person quickly scrambled to their feet and profusely apologized, helping her stand as her cousins stood there in shock. She heard a couple more footsteps rush over to where she were standing, dusting off her butt and looking her tackler in the face. In an instant, Teagan had forgotten what had happened as she got lost in the deep green pools of the man in front of her. It wasn’t the eye colour that stole her focus, but rather the intensity of emotions that he conveyed through them. Teagan could see and feel the embarrassment, regret and sincerity of the man.
“Teags?”
Her cousin’s voice broke her trance and she blushed when she realized she had been staring. She noticed that two other people stood behind him, in which she assumed was her friend. One was fairly tall and blonde and the female with long auburn hair and a beanie. Teagan forced herself to focus on what the man was saying rather than the beautiful eyes in front of her.
“I am so so so sorry. I completely didn’t see you and didn’t mean to ruin your dress or tackle you to the floor” Teagan looked down at her once cute summer dress covered in iced coffee from Starbucks. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Teagan stood there speechless.
“Uh-uhm- D-Don’t worry about it! It’s totally fine” Teagan felt slightly flustered and out of breath, her blush deepening as she heard her cousin scoff on the side. “I can quickly just go and buy something else to wear”
“Please let us pay for it! We feel horrible!” the man’s female friend offered coming closer to Teagan motioning the other two males as well.
“Seriously, it’s fine! I’m totally fine! Don’t worry about it!” Teagan couldn’t quite understand why she felt embarrassed when they were the ones who were at fault. “What happened anyway?”
“Our friend thought it would be funny to run away with my iced coffee and wasn’t looking where he was running. It’s my fault too because I was chasing after him” the blonde one shyly confessed, rubbing his neck apologetically. “I hope we didn’t ruin your night”
“We were just killing time waiting for our reservation. It isn’t for another half an hour, so we have ample time to grab Teagan a new dress” Teagan silently thanked her cousin as her brain was malfunctioning at the handsome man in front of her.
“We seriously feel so bad, can we please make it up to you somehow?” the female tried to offer some sort of compensation again.
“It’s totally fine, no hard feelings. It wasn’t like it was on purpose right?” Teagan’s brain started to slowly function as she declined the offer of the female.
“Seriously, we need to make this up to you two. I won’t take no for an answer and if you do say no, I’ll just follow you around until you say yes” The handsome man took a step closer to Teagan, causing her breath to catch and swallow deeply.
“Uhm, okay! I mean, if you won’t take No, I’d much rather just make new friends instead of gaining a stalker!” Teagan could feel her words tumble clumsily out of her mouth. Thus began the start of a new friendship. Teagan, her cousin and their new friends ventured to the nearest H&M to find something else for her to wear. Turns out that the other female, Savannah, had excellent taste in clothing. They all came to learn that they were all in the same age range, with Tegan being born in 1997 and Owen, the blonde being born in 2000. Teagan also came to learn that her handsome tackler’s name was Charlie and that all three of them were actors for a new Netflix project that was scheduled to air in the New Year. The three ladies got along incredibly and their shopping trip turned into all five of them going to dinner. They had lucked out when a table of 5 before them no-showed the restaurant. They spent the evening getting to know one another and a deep friendship was easily formed. Throughout the night, Charlie and Teagan connected on several levels and at times forgot there were three other people at the table. Occasionally the two would banter or tease each other, even though they had met that day. As their dinner came to an end and bills were paid by none other than Charlie, the girls exchanged contact information, planning to hangout on their next day off. But before Teagan could walk away for the night, Charlie slipped a piece of paper in Teagan’s hand apologizing one more time for running into her.
‘Coffee? This time I won’t spill it on you’ was messily written on the one side, with his phone number on the other. Teagan’s cousin didn’t notice the smile that lit up her face, but she quickly snapped a picture of it and tucked it in her purse for safe keeping.
That coffee date with Charlie ended up becoming a regular occurrence, though the only one who would be drinking coffee would be Teagan as Charlie always settled for tea or whatever dessert or smoothie he wanted to explore that day. She appreciated his adventurous side as she was creature of habit at times. She learned a lot about the industry and the many quirks of Charlie Gillespie. Soon, coffee dates turned into dinner dates and dinner dates turned into weekend cuddles and relaxation, but filming would eventually wrap and the holidays approached, leaving Teagan and Charlie to make a definitive decision in their relationship. Teagan didn’t expect to extend her Vancouver visit from a week to about a month and a half. Reality was coming fast ans soon Charlie would be back to LA and Teagan working in Edmonton.
“Charlie, what are we?” she asked him as both sat on the couch of his apartment. Mama Mia played softly in the background on the TV as she turned to face him.
“Well what do you want to be?” he cheekily asked her, flashing one of his killer smiles.
“Je suis sérieuse. Tu retournes à LA toute suite et moi à Edmonton. C’est quoi ça?" Charlie knew that when Teagan spoke to her in french she was serious. It was one of the things he learned early on about Teagan. He was pleased to know that she was fluent in french, having taken an IB course in high school, but they often bantered about their accents. She understood how french was a huge part of who he was and she didn’t speak to him in french unless it was important. She knew it got his attention right away since he was so used to being around people who only spoke english.
He paused the TV, complete silence filling the room, both of them facing one another. Charlie was off to Vietnam for the holidays and Teagan planned to spend hers with her family in Edmonton, seeing as she had made an impromptu extension to her trip in Vancouver. He knew that the next time they would be seeing one another they would be crossing borders to visit one another and to be honest the distance felt a bit overwhelming. But Charlie couldn’t shake the fact that there was something about Teagan that he didn’t want to let go.
“What’s going to happen when we both go back to living the way we were before one another?” Charlie chuckled softly to himself, knowing his decision. Teagan cocked an eyebrow at his response.
“Well nothing’s going to go back to the way it was before Teags” she loved hearing Charlie use her nickname. He said it in a way that sounded so comforting to her ears. “You’re mine right?”
“Define: mine” Teagan smiled coyly at Charlie, already understanding what he meant. “I need help understanding you. I don’t speak Charlie Gillespie Language” Charlie rolled his eyes and got down in front of Teagan, settling in between her legs.
“Teagan Jillian Valencia, will you be my girlfriend?” He jutted his lips forward ever so slightly to create the perfect pouty lips and then he comboed them with his best puppy eyes. Teagan shook her head at the dramatics of the man in front of her and kissed him on the lips, pulling him up and forward. “So, that’s a yes?”
She nodded and kissed him again, this time a little more aggressively. Charlie took the hint and started getting all handsy, but Teagan broke their kiss. “As much as I would love to do this right now, Owen comes home in 30 minutes and I would much rather him not walking in on us, again”
“Well let’s make this quick and move to the bedroom!”
#charlie gillespie#charlie gillespie x reader#fanfiction#charlie gillespie fanfiction#charlie gillespie imagines#imagine
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The Sexual Awakening of David Joseph Katz - Chapter 8
Link to Chapter 1 || Link to Chapter 2 || Link to Chapter 3 || Link to Chapter 4 || Link to Chapter 5 || Link to Chapter 6 || Link to Chapter 7
Series summary: A multi-chapter journey of self-discovery and sexual awakening.
Chapter summary: Dave tries something new.
Genre: Developing relationship, smut. (18+ only, please)
A/N: This is set in a nothing-too-bad-happens modern AU. The characters are all in their early twenties (I’m picturing adult!actor versions of them and Dave as a (younger) Cody Ray Thompson). The siblings are all still living at home, relatively happily, and Dave, Lila, Sissy and Carl are friends who hang out with them at the Academy.
Word length: 5.2k
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.
*******************************************************
It was the weekend. Klaus and Dave had spent the day hanging out with Diego, Ben and Luther.
They’d driven out of the city to a hiking trail and explored for a bit, then set themselves up on a rickety jetty to do some fishing in a nearby lake.
Ben had rolled his eyes at Diego and Luther’s competitive sniping, but all three had ended up blaming Klaus for scaring away all the fish after he got board of sitting quietly and decided to dip his toes in the water and attempt to splash the serious look of concentration off Dave’s face. He succeeded.
Nobody ended up catching any fish.
In the afternoon, they returned to the Academy to chill and – at Dave’s insistence – have a Star Wars movie marathon.
At one point, Five wandered through the living room. He paused to roll his eyes fondly at the slouching heap of limbs they had become, before heading off in the direction of the bar. They heard clinking, them a few moments later he wandered back out, distractedly muttering something about quantum mechanics and clutching a Margarita topped with a little blue cocktail umbrella.
At some point during the second movie, Ben extracted himself and wandered off to a quiet nook to do a little reading and, shortly afterwards, Luther left to go pick up Allison from the mall, where she’d been shopping with some girlfriends.
Bored again from too much sitting, Klaus had come up with a game that involved passing random objects between them without letting them touch the floor, using only their feet.
With the movie still playing in the background, they’d been passing Dave’s balled-up hoodie between them for a solid twenty minutes when Diego’s phone pinged and he missed the pass from Klaus, letting the hoodie fall to the floor.
“Dude!” Klaus exclaimed, hands raised.
Diego shrugged and checked his phone.
“It’s Lila inviting me over,” he said. “Her roommate’s out of town.”
“Booty call,” Klaus grinned, winking at Diego and conspiratorially nudging Dave with his elbow. “Sounds like you’re in there, bro.”
Diego grimaced back. “More like, she’s bored of being on her own without anyone to tease, so she’s calling sparring partners to her.”
“If that really was the case,” Dave said, “and all she wanted was an argument, she’d just text Carl.”
“Ha! True!” Klaus barked a laugh. “He’d definitely take the bait. He’s been in such a pissy mood recently.” Klaus made a lewd gesture, “I don’t think he’s getting any from Sissy.”
“I don’t think you can blame Sissy for Carl’s foul mood,” Dave added sagely.
“Definitely not!” Klaus said, “it’s not her fault her boyfriend’s a prick.”
“To be fair,” Diego cut in, “she’s been pretty busy recently with that volunteering group she and Vanya signed up for. You know, the one with the music therapy for autistic kids.”
Klaus and Dave shared a glance and Dave had to duck his head quickly to hide his smile.
“Yeah,” Klaus said slowly, “Sissy and Vanya have been busy with the… volunteering. Recently, in particular, they’ve both got very… busy. Together.”
Engrossed in his phone, Diego didn’t notice the knowing grin that passed between Klaus and Dave.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Diego mused, “maybe it gives her too much power. Coming when she calls, I mean. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”
“Don’t you mean get the right idea?” Klaus smirked.
“Shut up,” Diego scowled, “I’m not her lap dog.”
Klaus caught Dave’s gaze and rolled his eyes. “Honestly, these Straights,” he said with a mock exasperated sigh, “they have such complicated relationships.” He turned to Diego and levelled him a challenging look. “Seriously, brother mine, you need to let that girl peg the toxic masculinity right out of you. You might have a clearer perspective on the whole thing after you’ve let her fuck you ‘till your true bratty bottom personality starts showing. I bet you’d find it quite liberating to let her watch you shake apart while your ankles are in the air and your knees are up by your ears.”
Diego let out a strangled choking sound.
“But if you’re too much of a sissy to let a woman top you,” Klaus added, “I’d highly recommend levelling up and finding a nice guy to fuck you instead. Tits are nice and all that – but you just can’t beat a big, hard dick. So go find yourself one of them. Just not the one attached to him,” Klaus winked at Dave, “because that one’s spoken for.”
Dave grinned fondly, rolling his eyes.
“I don’t even know where to start with that,” Diego said with a grimace.
“Well,” Dave said evenly, “personally, I’d recommend starting with a bit of dry humping. Then, when you finally get your hands around it, you can start working it properly. Maybe fondle the balls a bit.”
“Dave!” Diego said shocked. “That’s… you… don’t say things like that.” He looked between Klaus and Dave, scandalised. “He’s having a bad effect on you, Dave.”
“He’s had an effect alright,” Dave said, catching Klaus’ eye, “a big, prominent, pointed effect.”
“Seriously, dude,” Diego grimaced, “I don’t want to hear this.”
“Oh, quit whining,” Klaus chuckled. “We all know you ship us hard.”
“So hard,” Dave added.
“So, very, very hard.” Klaus giggled. “As hard as we make each other.”
“Oh, dear god!” Diego cringed, covering his ears with his hands. “Mental images! Forcing their way into my brain. Cannot un-think!”
Klaus and Dave both laughed.
“Well, on that note, I’m off.” Diego patted himself down checking for his keys and started towards the door. “I’d rather be at Lila’s beck and call than listen to anymore of this. You reprobates stay safe now. And for God’s sake, don’t cum on anything, please!”
“Don’t worry,” Klaus called after him. “We swallow.”
“La-la-la! NOT LISTENING!” Diego called back, hands over his ears again as he left, the front door to the Academy clicking shut behind him.
Klaus caught Dave’s eye and Dave raised an eyebrow and asked simply, “So, shall we?”
And Klaus barked a laugh. “Hell, yes!” he said, pulling Dave to his feet.
They ran upstairs and stumbled down the corridor to Klaus’ room, laughing and kissing and fumbling, hands pulling off clothes and blindly knocking into furniture in their haste.
“Diego’s really going to appreciate the trail of discarded clothing leading to your room,” Dave smiled, glancing over Klaus’ shoulder.
“Don’t care,” Klaus breathed, his lips pressing kisses along Dave’s jaw. “To be honest, Grace will probably pick it all up before he sees anyway.” Dave’s eyes widened in panic, but Klaus took the lobe of Dave’s ear into his mouth and sucked, and Dave’s mind blanked. He shivered and Klaus grinned, grazing his teeth along the flesh.
The door to Klaus’ room was barely shut behind them before Klaus was sinking to his knees in front of Dave, hands scrambling to unbuckle his pants.
Dave rested his head back against the door and allowed Klaus to pull his pants and boxers down, but before Dave had chance to step out of them, Klaus was leaning forwards eagerly and taking Dave into his mouth.
Dave groaned, long and low, both his hands going to Klaus’ head, fingers carding through the unruly curls, fingernails raking slowly and seductively along the scalp. He then tugged gently, in just the way he knew Klaus loved and Klaus hummed in delight. The vibrations sent a wave of pleasure through Dave and he sighed out Klaus’ name. Klaus hummed again, then started sucking and bobbing his head in earnest, his hands steadying Dave’s hips.
Dave closed his eyes and let the feelings overtake him. Klaus was setting a delicious rhythm, with just the right level of suction. His mouth was hot and wet and perfect. Dave could feel Klaus breathe out as he relaxed his throat and took Dave down deeper.
“Oh, Klaus…” Dave moaned, gently tugging on his hair again. “That’s so good.”
Klaus hummed again and, fighting the impulse to gag, took him down ever further.
“Oh, yes!” Dave sighed. “Oh Klaus, your mouth feels so good.” His brain fuzzy, the praises spilled off his lips, “Yes, oh you’re so good at that. It feels amazing. You feel amazing. You’re amazing.” Dave could feel the pressure building, the knot tightening. Klaus kept bobbing and sucking. “Oh yes, there, like that. Klaus! Oh yes, yes.”
Dave twitched his hips slightly and Klaus gave an almost imperceptible nod and squeezed his fingers, signalling that Dave could thrust forwards. Dave let out a strangled little sound and – ever so gently – started fucking Klaus’ mouth. Klaus moaned, his pupil’s blown and his chin wet.
Dave let out a low grunt and concentrated on the feeling of the tiny thrusts of his hips – the raw, decadent pleasure of pushing his cock into his partner’s willing mouth. The slightly strangled moans coming from Klaus were needy and wanton and desperate. The act felt so… base. So… primal. To Dave, it felt… unimaginably good.
Dave savoured the feeling, storing it away to be examined and replayed at another time, another place.
Klaus squeezed Dave’s hips again and then took him all the way down into his throat, swallowed, then hummed. And Dave felt the vibrations rumble through him in a heady wave. His fingers twitched and his hips bucked involuntarily.
Klaus chocked. Just a little. “Sorry, sorry,” Dave said, contrite. He only felt slightly guilty for the sudden rush that had surged through him at the sight and sound of Klaus choking on his cock.
Klaus hummed in response, picking up the pace of his bobbing, cheeks hollowed and his tongue working the underside. His thumb ran soothingly over Dave’s hipbone and even in his state of fuggy pleasure, Dave knew it was a sign of reassurance.
Half out of his mind with pleasure, Dave looked down and took in the sight of Klaus; cheeks hollowed, his lips stretched wide around Dave’s cock, the gentle sway of his wild curls as he bobbed his head. His eyelashes were dark fans over eyelids heavy from desire. Dave felt a proprietary surge of pleasure as he noticed the beginnings of dark streaks on the pale, delicate skin under Klaus’ bottom lashes, where the slight wetness around his eyes had caused his eyeliner to run.
Dave gave another low groan. He could feel himself tensing, his pleasure cresting. “Klaus!” he managed to grunt.
Klaus pulled back and off with a wet pop, a line of saliva still connecting them. He began fisting Dave’s length. He opened his mouth wide, stuck out his tongue and rested Dave’s tip on the wet, pink muscle. He looked up: open and willing and eager. Ready to be claimed, though Dave.
Eyelids heavy and eyes dark with lust, Klaus gazed up at Dave through his lashes. And, staring down into Klaus’ eyes, Dave’s pleasure crested and his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal surge. He came undone, pulsing and releasing, thick creamy ropes of cum landing over Klaus’ tongue and his lips and his chin and his cheek. Klaus closed his eyes and took it, hand still working Dave’s shaft, helping him ride out his high. And Dave just kept cumming, all over his boyfriend’s face and tongue and a bit in his hair. And it felt so dirty, but also so brilliant. And his brain thrummed: mine, mine, mine…
Dave’s cock gave a final weak pulse and Klaus licked the small trickle of cum off the tip.
Dave looked down and blushed at the sight of Klaus on his knees before him, his cheeks flushed, chin wet, face splattered with cum and his hair sticking up wildly from where Dave had been gripping the dark curls.
“Oh, Klaus” he whispered reverently. And Klaus smiled and gently kissed the tip of Dave’s cock one last time before getting to his feet.
Dave’s thumb came up to Klaus’ bottom lip and smeared a spot of cum across the skin. Klaus’ tongue came out to taste it, but Dave leaned forwards quickly and caught Klaus’ lips in a kiss, tasting himself on Klaus’ skin and in the slow slide of their lips and tongues.
“So, I guess we didn’t do what Diego asked after all,” Dave smiled.
“Pretty sure he meant the sofas, or in the kitchen or something,” Klaus grinned. “I don’t think it counts if the thing you’re cumming on is me.” Dave groaned again. Then reached blindly, grabbed his discarded tee and lightly wiped the mess off Klaus’ face. Then he brought their faces close until the tips of their noses were touching and brushed them together in an Eskimo kiss.
Dave stepped forwards, trying to walk Klaus back to the bed but, forgetting about his pants still pooled around his ankles, he almost overbalanced. Klaus laughed and held his arms steady while Dave toed off his boots and socks and stepped out of his jeans. Klaus’ pants had been abandoned somewhere on the trip from the living room to Klaus’ bedroom.
Dave gently placed his hands on Klaus’ immaculate chest and walked him back to the bed, softly pushing him down onto his back. Klaus shuffled backwards, laying his head on the pillow. He was toned and sun-golden and glorious, his erection a prominent bulge tenting his underwear. He’s gorgeous, Dave thought. Completely gorgeous and all mine. And a thrill ran through him.
Dave got onto the bed and pulled Klaus’ underwear off. And then Klaus was spread out before him: standing big and stiff and proud. A meal Dave wanted to both devour all at once… and also savour for the rest of his life.
Dave crawled over Klaus, propping himself up on his forearms so he could bring their lips together again. Klaus sighed and ran one hand down Dave’s spine, resting the other on his backside and squeezing.
“Ass man,” Dave breathed into Klaus’ mouth.
“Bite me,” Klaus smiled back, and Dave caught his bottom lip between his teeth and nipped lightly. Klaus groaned and pushed his hips up against Dave.
Dave grinned and rolled them over. He slotted his leg between Klaus’, presenting his thigh for Klaus to ride. Klaus propped himself up on his arms and pushed his hips down, grinding his erection into Dave’s deliciously solid thigh. He breathed out a sigh and leaned down to continue their kiss, his hips pressing forwards rhythmically. Dave pushed his tongue into Klaus’ mouth and let the kiss get dirty, his hands kneading Klaus’ ass cheeks as Klaus humped his leg. The room was filled with the sound of Klaus panting and grunting and the dull thunk of the headboard against the wall as Klaus increased the pace and vigour of his rutting.
“Look at you,” Dave breathed, eyeing Klaus’ slack mouth and flushed cheeks, “just look at you. So beautiful.”
“Dave,” Klaus gritted out.
“Oh, is there something you need, sweetheart?” Dave teased.
“Yes,” Klaus panted, a little frustrated and desperate to get off.
Dave raised an eyebrow but made no other attempt to move.
“Oh,” Klaus whined, “Dav-uh!”
Dave grinned wickedly, “Maybe you should ask nicely?”
Klaus’ eyes went wide. For a heart stopping moment, Dave thought he might have gone too far, might have misread the vibe, might have killed the moment.
But then Klaus flushed, blinking rapidly, and whispered, “Dave, please.” Dave squeezed his ass cheeks again and Klaus whined and clamped his thighs around Dave’s leg, grinding his erection down harder. “Please,” he repeated in a small, broken voice, “please do something to get me off.” He brought his lips to Dave’s ear, so close Dave could feel his lips moving, and murmured, “please, Mr Katz…”
Dave swallowed hard. A rush of adrenaline, and also something else – something deeper and more primal – ran through him. He could feel the soft, warm weight of his partner, writhing and rutting against him. Needy and desperate. Needy, for him. Dave was suddenly overwhelmed by an instinctive, primal urge to give and please and protect and provide. Mine, Dave thought again. He’s mine.
Dave hooked his leg around Klaus’ and flipped them over. He pressed one final searing kiss to Klaus’ lips and then worked his way down Klaus’ body, trailing kisses down his neck and chest, his tongue flicking over the hardened nub of a nipple. He teasingly kissed his way down the faint trail of dark hairs that started just below his navel and ended at the base of Klaus’ cock.
Dave could feel Klaus breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling in anticipation. But rather than turning his attention to Klaus’ erection. Dave dipped his head lower, and pressed kisses and teasing licks into the delicate skin surrounding Klaus’ cock. He pressed his nose against Klaus’ balls, nuzzling them slightly, then opened his mouth and sucked as much as he could into his mouth, applying delicious pressure and working the skin with his tongue. Klaus whined above him. Dave repeated the action, then moved onto the other.
“Dave,” Klaus panted. “Dave, please.”
A thought started buzzing in Dave’s brain. It felt electric – live and shocking.
Without quite realising he’d done it, Dave made a decision. He felt wired and alive and empowered.
Dave smiled and rose onto his knees. His hands went to Klaus’ hips. “Roll over,” he said gently.
“What?” Klaus’ head came up, eyes slightly unfocussed.
“Come on,” Dave repeated quietly, “roll over.”
“Dave? What’re you…” Klaus looked confused.
“I want to try something,” Dave smiled. He felt a shy, nervous flutter in his stomach, but he swallowed, caught Klaus’ eye and gave a confident little nod.
Klaus held his gaze a moment, eyes wide, but then he obliged, rolling onto his front. Dave encouraged him to spread his legs and lift onto his knees and elbows. Dave sat back for a second and just took in the sight before him: his boyfriend bent over on his bed, flushed and hard and slightly bewildered, but presenting himself so beautifully for Dave. Dave licked his lips and smiled. He was going to enjoy this.
Klaus’ head hung between his arms and he craned around to look at Dave admiring him and – despite all his previous experience – he still felt a small spike of self-conscious embarrassment. He shifted and started to get up, “Dave, what’s… what’re you doing…?”
“Shhh,” Dave reassured, his hand rubbing soothing circles into Klaus’ lower back and encouraging him back down. “It’s okay. Just relax. I’ve got this. I’ve got you.”
Klaus narrowed his eyes slightly but relaxed back down.
Dave positioned himself between Klaus’ legs and ran his hands over Klaus’ ass cheeks, endearingly pale against the tan of the rest of his skin. He gave the right one a quick pat and squeeze. Lowering his head slowly, he pressed a gentle kiss into the soft, fleshy centre of each cheek. Then, using his thumbs, he spread the cheeks apart, finally revealing Klaus’ pink, furled hole.
“Dave…?” He heard Klaus choke out.
Dave blew a soft stream of warm air onto Klaus’ little rosebud and watched as it clenched slightly.
Then, leaning forwards, he brought his face in close and slowly licked across Klaus’ tight hole.
“Fuck!” He heard Klaus exclaim.
Dave smiled and, tongue soft and wet and wide, he repeated the action.
“Oh, Dave! Oh, fuck!” Klaus panted again.
Dave pointed his tongue and flicked it up and down, and left to right, brushing it quickly over the delicate skin. Dave could feel Klaus’ hole fluttering under his tongue.
“Dave! Oh god, yes, oh yes!” Klaus panted. He shifted his hips and repositioned his arm to take his weight. He brought the other hand down to his cock, which was hanging thick and heavy and neglected between his legs. But before he could take hold of it, however, Dave caught his wrist and stopped him.
“Not yet,” he said. And his face was still so close to Klaus’ most private area that Klaus could feel the huff of air against his wet skin when Dave spoke.
Klaus shivered and groaned, but brought his elbow back down to the bed, resigning himself to the sweet torture.
Dave reapplied his tongue to Klaus’ hole and soon Klaus was panting and sighing and pushing back against him, needy whines and breathy little gasps escaping his throat.
Dave switched up the movement of his tongue from strong licks and fast little flicks, and instead covered Klaus’ hole with his lips and then sucked lightly.
Klaus groaned under him, pushing back, his legs trembling. “Oh, fuuuuuck!” he whimpered.
Dave gave the furled hole another slow lick, then pointed his tongue and – ever so slowly – pushed it against Klaus’ entrance. Klaus’ breath hitched. At first Klaus’ muscles resisted. But then, as Dave wiggled his tongue slightly, he felt the tight ring of muscles begin to relax, allowing him to push his tongue in slightly. Dave pressed his tongue forwards in tight circular motions, then slowly pulled back and pressed in again, fucking Klaus’ hole with the tip of his tongue.
“Oh, fuuuuucck me!” Klaus wailed. “Fuck, Dave! Yes! Oh, fuck I need to cum!”
Dave could feel Klaus trembling under his hands, the erratic twitch of his hips, the desperate, broken edge to his voice.
“Please, Dave,” Klaus pleaded. “Please, please…”
And Dave, his face still buried in Klaus’ ass, finally reached around and gripped Klaus’ leaking erection and started pumping.
And Klaus keened. He was caught between thrusting his painfully hard cock forward into Dave’s fist and pressing back into the delicious wet flicks of Dave’s tongue against his quivering hole. He was so desperately, painfully hard; the desire to cum so strong. And the feeling of Dave finally touching his rock-hard cock was toe-curlingly amazing. And Dave’s tongue, pressing and licking and sucking him – there – was beyond amazing. And for Klaus, time seemed to be caught in one delicious, shining moment of wet, hot, hard, fast, urgent, pleasure, clenching, tensing… and then he was cumming. Hard.
Thick creamy ropes spurted onto the bed and over Dave’s fist and Dave could feel Klaus’ hole twitching and clenching under his tongue as his muscles spasmed in waves. And Klaus was moaning Dave’s name wildly… then breathlessly… then a little brokenly as his trembling legs gave way and he finally collapsed forwards onto the bed.
Dave moved up the bed and lay down on his side next to him. Carefully, he ran his fingers through Klaus’ hair, studying his face, his closed eyes, his blissed-out expression.
Klaus opened his eyes blearily and looked at Dave.
“Dave,” he whispered hoarsely. Dave smiled.
“Dave,” Klaus tried again, “That was just so… thank you. Just, wow! Like really. Wow. It was just… so…” he screwed up his face, trying to find the right words and failing, ending instead on just a low grunt of consonants. “Nngggh,” he finished.
Dave smiled, eyes fond and affectionate. “Well, if I’ve rendered you speechless, I guess it must have been okay,” he teased lightly. Klaus blinked. Dave brought his lips down and tenderly kissed Klaus’ forehead and whispered, “I’m glad you thought so. It felt pretty incredible to do it for you too.” Klaus hummed and his eyes drifted closed.
“Hey,” Dave squeezed his shoulder. “You should have a quick shower before you sleep.”
“Don’t wanna,” Klaus mumbled. “Tired and comfy and no energy.”
“Come on, up you get.” Dave encouraged. “You’re sticky and sweaty and smell like sex. You’re laying in the wet spot and you’ve got cum in your hair. Shower, now.”
Klaus groaned and with great effort pulled himself up and moved towards the bathroom.
“Aren’t you coming?” Klaus asked in a small voice.
“You get in, I’ll be there in a sec,” Dave said. Klaus nodded and padded off.
Dave quickly stripped the bed and put on clean sheets from the cupboard where Grace kept the fresh linen. He bundled the dirty ones up and stuffed then in the laundry basket. He then went into the bathroom to join Klaus.
When they were showered and dry, Klaus in a pair of fluorescent briefs and Dave wearing clean boxers and a soft old tee from the stash of clothes he’d started leaving at the Academy, they crawled into bed. Klaus cuddled up to him and rested his head on Dave’s chest.
“Good call,” Klaus admitted, running his hands over the crisp sheets.
Dave hummed in response. Klaus closed his eyes, listening to the rumble of it against his ear.
“So, power kink, huh?” Klaus smiled into Dave’s chest.
“I guess so,” Dave replied. “Believe me, it took me by surprise a bit too.”
“It was good,” Klaus said. “Different. It looked good on you.” Klaus paused, then added, “I like the idea that we can switch stuff up like that sometimes.”
“Me too,” Dave found himself agreeing.
“You know,” Klaus said tentatively, “we could go further too.”
Dave traced the rim of Klaus’ ear with a fingertip.
“Yeah,” Dave said, feeling bold in the gathering darkness of the room. “Give and take, assertive and submissive, top and bottom… there’s so much we can try together. And that’s just power stuff. Then there’s… well, everything else as well.” He felt Klaus hum his agreement into the skin over his heart.
“You know,” Klaus said after a pause, “when we talked about this the other day, I thought we were going to start with some light fingering. But I guess I shouldn’t have underestimated you, Mr Katz. You just dived straight in tongue first.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Dave asked a little worriedly.
“Fuck no!” Klaus exclaimed. “I just didn’t think we’d start with rimming. I mean it’s not really the natural place to start.”
“Isn’t it?” Dave frowned. “To me, it kind of just felt right in the moment.”
“I’m glad you did,” Klaus insisted, “it was mind-blowing.”
Dave grimaced. “Promise you’re not teasing my technique?” He asked. “It’s the first thing I’ve done to you before you’ve done it to me first. I didn’t have any previous experience to work from.”
There was silence and Dave frowned and shifted to look down at Klaus’ face. He was surprised to find Klaus’ cheeks pink and his ears a little red.
“Klaus?” he asked, worried.
“You weren’t bad.” Klaus said quickly. “It’s not that. It’s just that, for once, I don’t really have anything to compare to either.” His eyes widened. “Not that I usually compare you with other people,” he said quickly. “I don’t do that. Just, with this, I don’t have a point of reference. So, all I can say is you blew my mind.”
Dave took a moment to process and then asked the obvious question. “Are you saying none of the people you’ve been with before have done that for you?”
“Um… yeah,” Klaus blushed – actually blushed – “yeah, I guess I am.”
Dave swallowed. “Because they didn’t want to? Or because you didn’t want them to?” He swallowed again. “Did I… I hope I didn’t… Klaus, did you want me to do that just now?”
Klaus shifted to press his face into the hollow of Dave’s neck, his nose nuzzling the base of his throat. “Dave,” he said seriously, “I wanted it. I wanted you to.” He paused. “Before now… nobody ever offered. It wasn’t particularly something that was on my radar. I was just happy for them to fuck me. Just that was okay. I didn’t feel like I was missing out or anything. But then you just… did that for me. Because you wanted to. I’ve never been with anyone who put me first like that before.”
Dave’s heart clenched and his chest felt tight. He wrapped his arms around Klaus’ small frame and buried his nose into the curls on the top of his head.
“Klaus” he murmured, “Klaus…”
“It’s okay,” he heard Klaus sigh into his neck, “you don’t need to say anything.”
Dave swallowed the lump in his throat and tightened his arms around Klaus. The warm weight of words that didn’t need to be said just yet, lying like a blanket over them as they held each other in the gathering darkness.
Finally, Dave broke the silence, “I don’t know whether I should be a little bit offended, you know? About not being complicated, I mean.” He grinned.
“What?” Klaus frowned, opening his eyes.
“That thing you said to Diego earlier, about his dynamic with Lila being complicated.”
“Oh,” Klaus settled back down. “That.” He paused then added. “You might play the deep, strong, silent type sometimes, Dave, but you’re not complicated. I mean, not complicated complicated.” Dave ran his fingers soothingly up and down Klaus’ arm. “It’s not like do you confusing things that I can’t work out. You’re easy.”
Dave laughed.
“I don’t mean easy.” Klaus corrected himself. “I mean…”
“I know what you mean,” Dave cut in. He pressed a kiss to the top of Klaus’ head. “You might be a chaotic, eccentric oddball at times, but to me, you’re easy, too.” Klaus huffed a small laugh against Dave’s chest.
“I love that we always seem to be on the same page about stuff,” Klaus said into the quiet stillness of the room.
“Yeah,” Dave agreed. “We click. Always have. And I suppose we trust each other too, so that helps.”
Klaus blinked and swallowed hard.
“We do click, don’t we?” His voice was small.
“Yes,” Dave said earnestly.
“This really is something special, isn’t it?” Klaus said, just as quietly. He wants confirmation, Dave thought. Despite all the bravado, he’s actually a little vulnerable and insecure and wants confirmation.
“Yes,” Dave said, giving him exactly what he needed. “For me, right from the very first moment, this just felt right.”
“For me too,” Klaus admitted softly.
Klaus rolled over and settled on his side, pulling Dave flush behind him; the big spoon to Klaus’ little spoon. Dave’s knees tucked into the crook of Klaus’ legs, his arm coming over, fingers interlacing and hands curled close to Klaus’ chest. Dave’s groin pressed against Klaus’ backside, but in this moment, Dave felt nothing more than tenderness and affection. He pressed a kiss to the back of Klaus’ neck, the spot right between his shoulders, and shifted slightly, snuggling them even closer.
“After everything,” Klaus mumbled into the pillow, voice drowsy and muffled slightly. “After all this time, and everything we’ve been through to get here.” He paused, let out a breath and then carried on. “It’s hard to believe that this is how it could be from now on.”
Dave thought back to how he used to feel about his relationship with Klaus – like his life had turned into a series of moments as precious… and delicate… and fragile as champagne flutes on a tray in the wind. He wondered when he had stopped feeling like the tiniest wrong move or misstep could bring his happiness crashing down in a shower of irreparable shards of shattered crystal.
“Believe it,” Dave replied, and Klaus sighed and relaxed further into his arms. Dave shut his eyes and held him close, his heart beating a rhythm against Klaus’ back: this, just this, just this, just this, just this…
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Listen Closer - Chapter 4
[ girl help i can't stop writing this ]
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He woke up to someone pounding on the door, which only successfully left a pounding in his head, therefore setting him up to be a little bitch for the rest of the day.
Since he was off on weekends, he usually spent them working on traps, or helping facilitate traps for John. Today was Sunday, which meant he needed to spend the whole day working on the furnace, or it wouldn’t be finished in time, which is probably why someone was banging on his door.
That realization didn’t make him any less pissed.
After a moment of fumbling around blindly without opening his eyes, he grabbed something solid and flung it vaguely at the door. He heard it hit the metal door with a thunk, followed by someone cursing in surprise. Amanda. Of course.
“Sorry ‘Manda!” he tiredly yelled at the door, having expected it to be John or Hoffman. Amanda never woke him up because she never had the courage to- not that he would scare her on purpose.
“I’m gonna get you back one day,” Amanda replied, giving the door one last bang before retreating back to her work.
It took a good few minutes, but Garrett finally rolled directly out of bed, hitting the concrete floor with a groan. After yet another few minutes, he properly got up, finally taking that shower he didn’t have the energy for last night before getting dressed.
Logically he should wear things that would be good to weld in but he was gay, and dressed like it. So he simply pulled up the sleeves on his cropped sweater and prayed to whatever god that would listen that his exposed midriff would not get burned.
He emerged from his room only to retrieve his goggles- which he hadn’t meant to leave out on one of the public tables- before retreating back to his personal workshop.
The furnace was so close to done, really just needing some closed up gaps and other various touch ups, plus he needed to make sure the trigger for the flames worked. He could finish that in a day if he started early enough, so he dove into it.
A few times he could hear the door open and close, either Amanda or Nar coming in to make sure he wasn’t secretly dead or injured. Occasionally they brought him a glass of water too, or tried to have a conversation. They only sometimes got a response.
“How long have you been working?” Narcissus asked, setting a new glass of water on the desk next to where Garrett was sitting. “Have you taken a break in the last hour? You know you can’t work non-stop without a break.”
Garrett knew he wasn’t just going to leave without getting a response this time, so he leaned back from his work and pulled his goggles down so they hung around his neck. “I need to get this done,” he said, gesturing to the furnace, “the game is starting next week. This is like, a huge part. Everyone’s counting on me.”
“Please get therapy for that,” Nar replied, surprising Garrett enough that he let out a sharp laugh, quickly turning away to hide his grin. “Don’t launch into a spiel about how this IS therapy, I get enough of that from Amanda. But seriously, you need to take breaks. If you work yourself to death, you won’t be of use to anybody, least of all John.”
He, unfortunately, had a point. Garrett didn’t like accepting defeat, but he could at least get something to eat. “Alright, fine, but if this is some kind of ploy to get me to interact with people, I’ll lose it.”
Nar chuckled at that, patting Garrett on the shoulder as he headed over to the door. With a sigh, Garrett stood up and followed, making a beeline for where they kept snacks for while they were working. Now that he realized he hadn’t eaten all day, he felt like he was dying.
“So he lives,” Hoffman spoke up, scaring the shit out of Garrett, who hadn’t seen him in his rush to get something to eat. “We were beginning to worry you had gotten hurt in there and were just too prideful to ask for help.”
“I think out of everyone here, I’m the least likely to just die for the sake of my ego,” Garrett retorted, grabbing a mysterious muffin he didn’t know the origin of to be his very late breakfast. Or would it be lunch at this point?
He took a bite into the muffin, letting out a sigh of relief when he didn’t die instantly.
Amanda was known for baking stuff for the apprentices, but she wasn’t very good at it if it wasn’t strawberry shortcake specifically or donuts. Since the muffin wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever bitten into, his second guess was that Nar baked them instead. He tended to be able to bake without accidentally introducing poison to the ingredients list.
“Don’t you have a real job to be at?” Garrett asked, leaning back against the table Hoffman was seated in front of, standing next to him, like an idiot. “You know, pretending to be on the good guy’s side, throwin’ off the trail…”
Hoffman just looked at him like he was insane. “You do realize that detectives don’t spend most of their time in the precinct, right? No one is going to question why I’m not there. They’ll just call me in if they need me.”
Can’t imagine having a job like that. “Right, right. Have y’all ‘found’ Cara’s body yet? I wanna watch when you do.” Through the cameras, of course. Garrett found it amusing to be right next to a police investigation and, since he covered the ‘on’ light on cameras he used, they never knew he was there.
“What?” Hoffman asked after a moment of bewildered silence, and Garrett vaguely recognized what he said was weird but simply stared back at the detective.
“I said I want to watch. It’s fun watching cops scramble around for an answer, like they did when they discovered my game. One of them threw up when they realized it was teeth marks in that bastard’s throat. So, let me know when you ‘find’ the body.”
Garrett looked away, returning to his muffin, leaving Hoffman to process the fact that he DESPERATELY needed real therapy.
He went to continue the conversation, maybe to learn WHY Garrett was so weird about watching the investigation, but his phone cut him off. “Hoffman,” he greeted when he answered, immediately catching Garrett’s attention. “Right,” he continued after a moment, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled out a notepad and a pen.
After a few “uh-huh”s and “got it”s, Hoffman had an address scribbled down- one Garrett immediately recognized as where his game had taken place. “Speak of the devil…” he muttered, gaining a somewhat concerned look from the detective.
“I’ll be there soon,” Hoffman said into the phone, grabbing it from his shoulder and flipping it shut. “I assume I’ll be meeting you there,” he told Garrett, before standing up and heading out. Garrett watched him leave, just like he did last night, except this time he wasn’t out of the door before Garrett was following.
---
Garrett actually ended up getting a ride from Hoffman, which was undoubtedly awkward.
They hadn’t been in this confined of a space together yet, and Garrett was making it a point to not look at Hoffman, which in turn just made Hoffman nervous because usually that means someone is about to lash out.
It was not a pleasant trip.
Garrett practically lunged out of the car when they arrived, moving much faster than Hoffman thought he could in order to avoid detection by the police. The last thing he saw was Hoffman getting out to greet another cop before he was sneaking into the building through one of the windows.
The building had two floors- the room he used for the game was on the bottom floor, and the room he had the monitoring equipment set up in was on the top floor. The building was easy to scale, which is why Garrett had no problem getting up there. He wasn’t worried about being found either, because he blocked off the door to the room when he left after the game.
He would take every possible precaution under the sun not to be found if it meant he got to watch the chaos he created unfold.
Garrett dropped to the floor from the window as quietly as possible, avoiding any chance of the floor creaking as he made his way over to the single monitor set up for the game. He clicked it on, and settled down in the chair in front of it.
The camera came to life almost immediately, and he grinned at the sight of the crime scene.
They’d moved Cara out of the iron maiden, which was a little disappointing but understandable, since they needed to inspect her body.
He couldn’t hear what they were saying, having turned off the sound just to be safe. If he knew any more about this investigation than what he could see and slipped up… he just knew he couldn’t let that happen.
So he settled for silence, instead reading their lips as best as he could.
At some point, they’d closed the box, though he wasn’t sure why. Did they put the key back in there? Were they using it to store the tape recorder, which was nowhere to be found despite Garrett leaving it right where Cara had dropped it?
It was odd, and Garrett didn’t like not knowing why they had done it. He would ask Hoffman later.
Speaking of the detective, Hoffman looked very… in his element here, in the middle of a crime scene. He looked confident and sure of himself, which Garrett didn’t see much back at the Jigsaw base. Maybe it was because they didn’t talk often, or Hoffman just still wasn’t sure about this whole apprentice thing. Either way, he was very attractive when he knew what he was doing.
Garrett also noted that Hoffman didn’t struggle even a little bit to pretend he had no idea who had done this, or deciding he simply didn’t see the difference between a normal Jigsaw game and this one. Part of him wondered if he was playing along because he knew Garrett was watching, but a larger part of him appreciated that he was such a good actor.
John had told him about Hoffman’s copycat killing- the pendulum trap built for his sister’s killer- so he wasn’t totally surprised that this came naturally to him. Still, it was nice to know he wasn’t going to slip up and get them all caught.
They were looking at the iron maiden now, and Garrett tensed up without noticing it. He didn’t want to leave it behind when the game was over, but he had to, so the body could be found the exact way she died. And he’d worn gloves while setting it up and building, but seeing people inspecting it made him nervous, and he started fidgeting.
It started with just a bounce of his leg, but the longer they looked, the more nervous he got. By the time they finally moved away, he had bitten hard enough into his hand to draw blood.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself, running his tongue over the wound so the blood didn’t start dripping. They were wrapping up the investigation now, since he hadn’t really left many clues for them- they already had Detective Hoffman and Detective Mathers was already warned about his upcoming game.
He watched them leave the room and shut off the camera once it was empty, listening through the window for the retreat of the cars. When he was sure no one was left, he climbed out the window and back down the building.
Admittedly, he was a little surprised to find Hoffman still there, leaning against the side of the car and waiting for him. It made him smile, and he realized that being grateful for small shit like this wasn’t helping his case to not get attached.
“Better drive fast, detective, I’ve got a furnace to finish.”
#story tag: listen closer#self ship fic#self shipping#self insert#scrap.writing#scrap.ships#romantic: ⛓🕵️♂️#s/i: garrett whitlock#mark hoffman#romantic: 🦿🩺#(poly) romantic: ⛓🩺#lawrence gordon#chapter 4
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Have you ever been in a PLAY (or musical)
Yup! I was in numerous plays and musicals when I was younger. Now, I’ve migrated to being a stage manager/techie for shows. However, I’m still a singer, and I now do improv (I’m that one friend who asks you to come to their improv show). I'm usually the student stage manager for 2-3 shows throughout the year at my local youth theater.
This doesn’t quite count as me being in a play, but it’s a good story so I’m gonna tell it anyway. About one year ago, I was the student stage manager for a show with a very small cast (I think 11 people). It was a really good show, but for some reason, during the final weekend of shows, everything went to shit. Right before our second to last show, the kid playing one of the major roles badly hurt her ankle. This was bad enough on its own, but her role (and really the whole show) was heavily dependent on her walking around the stage and using a puppet. We eventually had to have the actors just mime like the puppet was there while the injured girl read the lines from a chair at the side of the stage.
But that is not where the story ends. The next day, the day of our final show, the girl showed up with a boot on her ankle and was well enough to limp around the stage and play the part. But about an hour before showtime, we find out that the lead has the stomach flu and will not be able to come. This show has eleven cast members, so there are no understudies. We were all frantically scrambling to figure out how to pull this off.
Our plan boiled down to this: one of the other actors needs to take over the lead part, while another actor, who already played two characters, was going to try to take over the other actor’s role and play three. Keep in mind no one had memorized the lines for these new roles before today. They had about half an hour to try to memorize the whole part.
The first half of the show goes off relatively well. The situation has been explained to the audience, and they’re rolling with it. However, right after intermission is over and the second half is about to start, the girl playing the lead panics.
After I lean out onto the stage to gesture to the booth to stop the music, we spend like two minutes trying to figure out what to do before deciding that it’s just too complicated to ask these people to play roles that they haven’t learned at all. Everyone is going to back to playing their normal roles, and I am going to take a script and be the lead for the rest of the show.
It was hectic and stressful as fuck, but it was also really fun, and the audience was absolutely into it, which was great. It was definitely one of the crazier things I’ve done in the past few years. So I guess you could say I WAS in a play, although not intentionally!
Jeez, that story was longer than I thought. Sorry about that. Thank you for the ask!
Send me “have you ever” questions!
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The Baker And Her Actor: part III [The Beach Date!]
Paring: Chris Evans x Black Fem! Reader
Summary: You meet Chris while making a house delivery for the Evans. He can’t get you off his mind and to be honest, neither can you.
Warnings: profanity, sexual content, angst, but overall fluff.
Notes: I hope you guys enjoy! If you have any requests feel free to share those!!
Previous Part(s) → (1) (2)
-
“Baby it’s you!”
“You’re the one I love.”
“You’re the one I need!”
“You’re the only one I see!”
“Come in baby it’s you!”
You prance around your kitchen singing your heart out to Beyoncé’s love on top. The past few days you and Chris had been communicating frequently.
It made you feel some type of way and put you in a chipper mood.
Since you had a day off you decided to treat yourself to a nice warm stack of pancakes, fluffy scrambled eggs, and crispy (vegan) bacon.
A perfect way to start a weekend morning.
Flipping the last pancake and plating it you shuffled over to your living room, Haneli hot in persuit.
Today was a relaxation day, and you wanted to watch some quality movies.
Over the past few days of your texting spell with Chris he never much mentioned his work. I mean here and there he brought up but we barley discussed it as if he wasn’t proud.
So this morning you were gonna dedicate this to watching one of his many projects.
“Chris Evans.” You command into your remote.
Error.
“Chris Evans!” You shout
The screen showed many of his different films, all looked absolutely amazing but one stood out amoung them all.
The one where he held a little blonde girl on his shoulder and had a similar scruff on his face.
Gifted.
If the title didn’t grab you the plot definitely did.
“Play gifted.”
“Playing gifted.” Your smart television obeyed.
Just when you were going to trade it in.
-
You were just now finishing the movie and you were blown away.
You never thought about how much went into being an actor. Being able to convey those emotions onto the screen allowing the audience to feel them. Chris, he did just that.
Should you text him?
You decide to make the first move. Picking up your phone you click his contact, and begin typing.
Y/n: Goodmorning, I just saw one of your films. It was amazing :).
The Captain: Really, which one? Also goodmorning to you too!
Y/n: Gifted, and of course you’re amazing!
The Captain: Dont make me ink y/n. 💙
Another adorable Disney reference.
Before you could respond, your phone began to ring the contact image of Chris popping up on your screen.
Why was he calling you?!
I mean of course you all had text, but text can be motified unlike phone conversations.
Just answer dumb ass!
“Hello.” You sqeak
“Good morning.” Chris gumbles, it was obvious he’d just woken up by the rasp in his voice.
“H-how are you?” You stammer
“I’m okay just a bit tired.’ He yawns “better now that you’re on the phone.”
You were silence. Butting youre upper lip not sure what to say next.
His flirt game was strong and always caught you off gaurd.
“You there?” Chris questions
“Yes I’m here, sorry. I don’t want to keep you if your sleepy.”
“No it’s okay- I actually wanted to ask you something.” Chris reassures
“What is it?” You muse.
“Will you go on a date with me?’ Maybe tomorrow evening, if that works for you.” Chris queried.
You could have sworn your heart skipped a beat. This was the moment you’d been waiting for but was so terrified of its arrival.
When was the last time you even went on a date?
“Y/n, your making me nervous.”
“Sorry, i’d love to.” You trilled
“Great, pick your up at 7 tomorrow.!” Chris elated.
You could hear his pure excitement through the phone.
Youem were excited but nun the less nervous.
Shit what am I going to wear?
-
Saturday Evening - A.K.A “Date Night”
“Okay so you got this dress and I’m thinking we need to ensintuate your shoulders and colleebones as much as possible.” Kiara explains.
She rushes through Pinterest to find hair inspiration. Some your like some you aren’t quite fond of. You wanted to look your best for him.
“What about this one?” Kiara inquires showing you a beautiful and delicate up-do.
You take her phone to get a better look, zooming in on all the intricate details of the style. “I love it! It definitely screams first date vibes, should I even call it a date or a hang out.” You mumble.
“Girl gets some confidence.’ Kiara lectures. “He asked you on a date because you’re hot and his intrested take it with pride, he’ll love you, and if he doesn’t I do.” Planting a firm kiss on your temple.
“Thanks.” You coo.
Kiara begins to fumble in your hair, pinning it up and fluffing it’s often. “So where is he taking you?’ She quipped. “Somewhere nice I hope.”
“Well he hasn’t exactly told me.”
You feel her stop fiddling around in your hair. “So you don’t know?”
You nod your head.
“Hm, a man of mystery,That should be fun.” Kiara mused.
Shifting weight in your seat from the pressure of sitting for a while, your breath out. “I hope so.”
“Let’s find you something sexy to wear.” Kiara offered.
-
You both decide on a emerald green slip dress and a gold layered necklace, topping it off with a casual leather jacket.
“You look amazing girl, I need a picture.” Kiara praises.
You twirl around posing dramatically with various poses. Kiara snaps pictures hyping you up with each pose you perform.
“Come look at these.” Kiara hypes
Damn you do look good.
“Can you send these to me?”
Kiara nods her head.
Just when you were slipping on your shoes the doorbell rings. Your clock reads 7 o’clock.
Prompt.
You hurry toward the hallway mirror you had hanging on the wall, giving your hair one last fluff before opening the door.
The door swings open and there he was in all his glory.
He looked ravishing.
He wore a silver chain necklace, a black knitted sweater paired with heather grey saude pants and carmel shoes.
He held a bouquet of beautiful flower. Assortments of different pinks, red, and whites.
So he listens.
“Wow, you look stunning.” Chris praises
“You as well.’ I can take those, at least I hope they’re for me.” You giggle
“Oh yes, of course. Can I Uh set them up for you?” Chris ask rubbing the back of his neck.
“Yes.”
You open up the doorway even more allowing him in. Guiding him toward your kitchen. A short trip considering you live in a small loft.
“Vases are up top.” You instruct
Chris nods, reaching up to grab one of your many vases.
When he stretched up his shirt untucked revealing a lower back tattoo.
God this man has tattoos as well.
You couldn’t help but stare not only was it intresting but it was really hot as well.
Chris peaks his head over his shoulder catching your gaze in his peripheral.
Shit.
“See something you like?” Chris teases a cocky smirk painted on his face.
You drop your head biting your bottom lip. You’d been caught and the man sure knows how to make you nervous.
I was starting to believe he did that on purpose.
Suddenly you notice Kiara hiding behind the slight wall that separated the kitchen and the living space.
“What are you doing?!” You mouth.
She smirks. Then begins to suggestively dry hump the air and make satisfied faces. “Introduce me.” She mouths back
You roll you eyes giving in, motioning for her to come over.
She smiles in victory, brushing down her outfit quickly.
“So y/n before you leave- oh I’m sorry I didn’t know you were here.” Kiara lies
From anyone who didn’t know who the actors was in the room, they’d think it was Kiara how well she put on an act.
You stare at her hoping she didn’t go overboard.
“Oh erm, hello.” Chris greeted
“We were just living, Kiki I love you and I see you later!”
You hoped Chris got the message, luckily he did.
He quickly dried his hands, shooting a small smile and wave to Kiara then followed you out your home.
“Which one your?” You ponder.
Beep beep.“That one.”
You watched the interior light of a black mid size audi light up.
Sometime you forget he’s rich. He definitely didn’t like to show, one of the many things you like about him.
“Shall we?” Chris says his arm out for you to interlopp.
You smile up at him gripping his arm, feeling the heat rise up to your cheeks.
-
The car ride was anything but queit. The two of you laughed and told embarrassing stories of your childhoods.
“Wait so you actually peed on a guy in your class in sixth grade?”
“True story, I couldn’t hold it!” You retort giggling
“Wow you beat me.’Chris says. “we are almost there it’s just up this way, one of my favorite things to do.”
“So I get to go to a special place?”
“Must mean something, right.” Chris stated, giving you those damn eyes again.
The way he stared at you with so much sencerity made you crave him even more. He was passionate you could tell.
-
“Okay no peaking.” Chris instructs pilling you out of the car shutting the door after you.
“Okay.” You obeyed.
Chris walked you through a seemingly long and tangled path. His big hands covering your ears the whole time.
Eventually he stopped guiding you and removed his hands.
“Is it safe to open?” You asked softly
“Yes you can open now, even though definitely saw you peaking.” Chris teased
“I was not!” You bicker like a child
Finally you allow your eyes to flutter open. Immediately your jaw drops at what you saw before you.
It was the Boston harborwalk, but lit up. The place looked so alive.
There was everything. Fun games, food, and even a Ferris wheel.
“Chris this is amazing.’ You gasp in excitement. “It’s- it’s beautiful I - can we go now!”
“I figured you’d love it, and yes let’s get going.” Chris spoke holding his hand out for your reach.
You comply shyly intertwining you tiny fingers with his. The heat rising to your cheeks, and the butterflies bubbling in your pit again.
You finally reach the boardwalk. Enamored by all the lights and fun that surrounds you can’t help but bounce from booth to booth like a young child on Christmas Day.
“Slow down dont wanna have to put a lease on you.” Chris pesteres
You playfully slap his chest with the back of your hand.
God he was muscular and firm.
Nope not going there y/n stop.
“Oh hush, this is fun!’ You piped. “What should we do next?”
“I was thinking the Ferris wheel?” Chris suggested.
-
Chris’s Point Of View:
The night wasn’t even close together and it was already going so well.
Y/n was perfect, practically an angel.
I could tell she was breaking out shell, showing more of her personality she’d been so afraid to show me.
It was great. I loved how excited she got about the smallest things, how she was a good sport and didn’t fuss over loosing games.
Through all my relationships I’ve craved to have someone like y/n and here she was and she was so great.
Gosh get a grip meatball can’t be falling in love on date one.
Finally we get up to the top of the Ferris wheel, stopping so we could get a great view of Boston.
I watched as you leaned over on the side just enough not to tip over but to get a good view.
How your y/c eyes lit up just like the city below us, the curls that rested on your forehead dancing in the wind.
Perfect.
I pull out my phone opening the camera settings.
I snap a quick photo of you. You just looked so peaceful.
Shit my flash!
My eyes go wide, embarrassed that I’d just been acting like a certified creep ten seconds ago.
She turns to face me comfusion readable on her face.
“Um y/n I’m sorry I- I just thought you looked beautiful.” I stammered.
She slips her tiny hand into mine giving me a small smile.
“Can I at least see it.” She asks
-
We leave the carnvial to go to another beautiful location I wanted to show y/n.
This could quite literally brighten her night.
“It’s just this way.” I instruct holding her hand helping her down the pathway to the beach.
“Are you taking me somewhere to kill me.” She jokes
“Sweetheart if I wanted to kill you, it would have already been done.”
I hear her let out small chuckle underneath her breath.
She trusted me.
“We’re here.” I announce
Her eyebrows raise as she looks around observing nothing but a bland beach.“We’re where?” She ponders
I pick up a small rock tossing it in my hand. “Okay now you’re scaring me.” She says slowly backing away.
“Don’t be.”
With that I threw the rock down on the sand allowing the bioluminescent plankton to give off their blue hue.
I hear the fimaliar gasp escape y/n’s lips as she’d done all night in excitement.
“Chris! What is this?”she quipped
“Bioluminescent planktons, I discovered these a while back when I was having a not good day and needed a walk. Cheered me up immediately.” I explain
Walking toward my side her eyes never leave the ground. “Wow this is astonishing.” She states
“You wanna see something else?” I ask a devient smirk planted on my face.
“You’re just full of surprises.”
“You have no idea.” I returned.
I grab her hand leading her over to the shoreline. “Take off your shoes.” I instruct
She does just that waiting for further instruction.
“You see this.” I say pointing down to the water.
“See what?”
“This!” I smirk lightly splashing her with water
Please be into it.
I watched as she stood there for a moment, mouth agape wiping the salt water off her face.
My heartbeat sped up hoping she wouldn’t curse me out and storm off.
“Oh really that’s what you wanna do?” She said smirking peeling her leather jacket off.
“Yeah that’s what I wanna do.” I mock rolling my arm and pants legs up.
“Fine but I was I raised off avatar and have a strong belief I’m a waterbender.” She jokes
Finally she splashes me immediately damping my sweater.
I’m impressed that she was able to get the much water on my with her small hands.
I attempt to return the favor but she runs away giggling.
I chase after her effortlessly catching up, scooping her in my arms bridle style.
“Stop, stop I’m sorry put me down.” She stammers laughing loudly.
“Nope only soaking you will do for forgiveness.” I say carrying her to the spot with our belongings.
“But Chris I just had wash day.” She pouts
“Wash day?” I question.
“You’re too cute, and caucasian.” She replied
“Cute huh?” I tease.
There she goes again hanging her head low and avoiding eye contact, she was so adorable.
“You know what I want.” I stays breaking the silence
“What’s that?”
“Ice cream.” I say
-
Finally we pull up at an ice cream parlor that looks like it was plucked straight out of the fifties.
I notice you began to shiver. It was late at night and the cool Boston breeze was now turning into a chilling freeze.
Should I do it? Will she be comfortable?
Making sure not to startle her, I cautiously wrap my arm around her shoulders pulling her into me, hopping to add some type of warmth to her body.
She just smiles up at me leaning her head into my shoulder. She fit into my side like a puzzle. I let the tropical sent of her hair infuse my lungs.
God she smelt great.
We get up to the glass display of ice cream. It was so colorful with so many different assortments of flavors I didn’t know which one to pick.
You were bent over peaking through the glass. Squinting trying to decide which ice cream flavor to choose from.
“Decided yet?” I ask
“I think so, can I have the chunky monkey suprise.” She asks the waitress.
The waitress nods grabbing a warm scooper for dig out your flavor. “What about you. what’s your take?” She asks me retrieving her ice cream.
“I think I’ll have what your having.”
“Good choice.” She playfully sasses
I watch her walk over to grab us a a few napkins and extra spoons.
Thoughtful.
“Sir.” The cashier says holding my ice cream for me. “Sorry, how much?” I ask.
“It’ll be $5.78.” The cashier resports.
I dig into my wallet pulling out one of my many cards handing it over to the cashier.
I felt your brown eyes burning into me, watching me.
I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing that you were or a bad thing that you were.
“Let’s go, it late and im sure you work tomorrow.”
“Yes I do.” She mutters almost pouting.
We walk to my car. Reaching it I press the unlock butting watching the inside light up.
[CLICK FOR Part III CONTINUED HERE!]
-
Tag List:
@toniilaney
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12 days of Christmas→day.5 T.H
Summary→when tom plans on proposing to you Christmas day and comes back 12 days before, what happens when untold feelings come back up
Warnings→ jealousy, fluff
A/n→i might not be super active next week but i will take my time with this series along with happiness is a butterfly
When Harrison walked into the new flat that he shared with Harry, he let out a sigh of relief one that made his head hurt. He didn’t like how he was acting strange around tom, lying to him. he didn’t like how he was gonna try and kiss you before Tom got home. He felt guilty, so guilty for doing that to the both of you.
Can’t make it today, sorry!
Harrison sent the message to prevent any more awkwardness from happening. You were going to be Tom’s wife, he remembered. He tried to keep that in his head so it wouldn’t get ahead of him.
“Hey harry?” He called out and he walked out of his room with his computer in one hand and mug in the other.
“Yeah what’s up?” He sat his computer down and walked over to the coffee pot to get more coffee.
“If you had a girlfriend and another guy had a crush on her, what would you do?” He took a seat at the counter and Harry shrugged.
“Not quite sure, I mean...if he was making a move on her then I’d be a little pissed but If he just thought she was pretty? Wouldn’t find it that intimidating.” He shrugs as he adds milk into the coffee to give it more flavor. Harrison let’s out a sigh knowing truly what he did was wrong. “Why? Is it something with Amanda?” He asked and Harrison just shook his head.
“No, it’s nothing.” He reaches for his phone as just a distraction. He just stares blankly at his home screen and Harry comes back over to his computer.
“Wait…” he takes a sip and then sets the mug down. “This isn’t about (y/n), is it?” He asked and Harrison froze. “Haz, Toms gonna—“ he starts and Harrison rubs his temples.
“I know, I know.” He groans and Harry turns his full attention to him.
“So what happened? You were like completely over her for what? Two years? What happened now?” He asked and Harrison thinks of all the things that went so good but so wrong. Maybe it was the first day tom left. That day in October you were so emotional and held onto Harrison for comfort.
“I love you.” You mumbled into Toms sweatshirt as him and Harry were getting onto a plane to Chicago to do comic con and then taking another one to Ohio and would be gone until December. No break, no coming home for a weekend. Nothing. You’d be spending two months away and you two weren’t exactly use to super long distance. Even when he did Spider-Man he’d take you along and come home as much as he can. You would be able to come vist too, that was always a plus.
“I love you more.” He kisses your cheek and you melt into he kiss. You’re already dressed in his clothes to remember him when he’s gone. You wear his maroon hoodie and some old sweats that he couldn’t fit into anymore when he got big for Spider-Man. You wore those clothes like they were the best damn outfit anyone could give you.
“Promise to call me every night? Remember to take care of yourself okay? Brush your teeth, drink plenty of water, eat enough carbs and calories, remember to stretch—“ now you were just talking to hold onto him for a little longer.
“Babe, I know. You don’t have to tell me. I’ll call you every night and I promise I’ll do all of those things.” He rubs your shoulder and you feel your eyes water up again.
“I know, I know.” You kiss his jaw and play with his hoodie. “I’ll just miss you ‘tis all.” You try and smile and he nods.
“I’ll miss you too, so much.” He pulls you in for a soft kiss. “Lemme go say bye to Haz.” He softly smiles and goes over to his best mate.
The two hug each other and give a pat on the back. Harrison looks over and sees you giving a hug to Harry before he leaves. Harry was just like a brother to you, always. But Harrison, you could tell him anything without feeling judged.
“Take care of her mate.” Tom whispered into his ear and Harrison nodded.
“Of course.” He nods and tom gives him a smile before going back to you. He watches as you and Tom have a bond like no other, one he’s never seen before. One he wishes and hopes he has one day. Maybe with you or maybe with someone of his own.
He walks over to take you as he hears the sound of Toms flight being boarded. You calm yourself as you go into Harrison’s side. Tom never felt jealous of Harrison and you, he never felt the need to.
“I miss him already.” You wrap your arms around Harrison. You don’t even notice his heart speeding up and how he stiffened at your touch.
That was possibly the first time, for no reason at all, his feelings for you started coming back.
“Tom being gone happened I guess. It was just her and I and maybe I did get a little jealous that tom had her. She’s perfect and she’s beautiful. Maybe it felt good to feel like I was in a relationship with her for a little bit. Even if she didn’t feel anything back.” Harrison shrugged and Harry nodded.
“So her personality got the best of you?” Harry asked and haz nodded.
“Yeah, I guess. We’d be like cuddling and she’d just miss him and I was there. It’d feel so good, so perfect and then Tom would call and she’d jump up and smile and giggle with him.” He says in an almost disappointed voice.
“This is my favorite part.” You laid on Harrison’s chest as you two watched a movie. A Christmas movie in November. It was a perfect night for you. Popcorn, Christmas movie, curling up with some blankets and a friend.
“Yeah?” Harrison looked down and saw your excitement. Your eyes lit up and you stared at the screen.
“Yeah.” You spoke softly as you focused. The sound of your phone going off made you hop up, distracting yourself from the scene and going to see who it is.
“Tom...!” Haz would hear your excitement as you held the phone back from your face so you can see. You give Harrison your signature “I’ll be back” look and mouthing before leaving the room to talk to your boyfriend.
It was a simple thing that made Harrison snap back into the reality of you not being his. You were not his but you were toms. And you and tom were perfect for each other.
“Look, I know she’s perfect in a lot of ways and tom choose good. But her and Tom...they’re perfect for each other. You’ll find a girl just like her I promise.” Harry rubbed his shoulders and Harrison nodded. It was true, he would find someone like you. No, that girl wasn’t Amanda, it wasn’t some past hook up he had, he just had to be gentle and patient. And that’s what he had to be, patient because you were perfect for Tom and soon next year he’d be the best man at your wedding and give a speech of how wonderful you all truly are. He wouldn’t lie in that speech either, it’d be the most genuine speech he’s ever told and anyone would be lucky to have you. Anyone.
Tom was very lucky and he knew that but it was just sometimes Harrison wished it was him who went out last minute two days before Christmas to get the white elephant gift for the party and ran into you. It was selfish and maybe he wouldn’t run into you because that wasn’t his faith but Tom did and he’d never forget that night he came home bragging about you.
“I’m back!” Tom shouts as he tries to hold presents in his hands. Yes he had the people at the mall wrap them, he sucked at wrapping no matter how many people tried to teach him.
“What gifts you buy?” Harry looked up as he too was living with the both of you at the time.
“Sam and his girlfriend a gift, mum a gift from all of us because we forgot that, the gift for the white elephant party and oh a new ps4 controller for us.” He sets them all down and pulls the controller out of the bag for it to be taken by Harry. “And I think I just met the love of my life.” Tom places his hands on his hips. As he catches his breath.
“Yeah right, you said that two weeks ago at the club. She just wanted you to buy her a drink!” Harry reminded him and haz took the presents and organized them.
“Oh yeah?” He asked and tom nodded.
“Yeah.” He goes for his water and takes a sip before smiling a little.
“We were both rushing around the store and I ran into her completely by accident. She dropped her coffee can you believe this? it’s like a movie! Anyways she told me it was fine and I said no let me get you a new one so we went over to the coffee bean and I got her a new coffee and she told me she forgot presents for her sister and a party and I was like ‘no way me too!’ And then she told me how Christmas break this year was hard because she just got done helping to write a script for a movie and so I was like “I’m an actor” and she said she noticed me but didn’t want to say anything to make it akward but she liked my movies and then I told her how pretty she was and gave her my number and she gave me hers and then she paid for my gifts when we were in Macy’s and so I told her let me pay her back and now I’m taking her to dinner after Christmas.” Tom proudly states and the boys look at him in shock. Tom scrambles to pull out his phone and pull up your Instagram that you gave him. The winter theme ended up matching your personality.
“A film student. Graduates this year. You sure she’ll have time for you mate.” Haz teases but you were really pretty. You ice skating, you setting up a tree, you making cookies, you volunteered at the animal shelter, you were almost made up. Simply like some guys fantasy that came to life. So gorgeous and so perfect.
“Shut up. She’s pretty isn’t she?” He put his phone away and the boys nodded.
“Yeah, she is. So I don’t know what she’s doing wasting her time with you.” Harry teased and tom tackled the boy on the couch and that caused Harrison to join and pull them off.
That night was the spark to something life changing for Tom and Harrison knew that. He knew that he’ll find someone but not you.
12 days of Christmas Taglist: @bibby-baby @spideylovin @wonderland-londonboy @peter-man-parker @sleepingthestral @spiderbibby @thevelvetseries @simplylia @sighbastian
Permanent Taglist: @angelsparkers @dahliaspidey @parkersvibes @itssss-a-bean @ppkrtingle @myfinalwords @bocaul @tinyplanet-explorers @sincerlyfan @softbaby-tom @awesomeblackcottontail @rosebeegraham @stormyholland @unicorn-princess-1999 @spideyyypeter @marshyrebelcloud @oh-epiphany @yeahimcrying @highlydisfunctional1 @disgustangg @pterstingle @quacksonhq @starlightparker @reblogsfics @tomsrebeleyebrow @dreamyyholland
#tom holland imagine#tom holland x reader#tom holland fluff#tom holland fic#tom holland smut#tom holland fan fic#tom holland x you#imagine tom holland
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Sometimes the best Christmas presents are the ones we don’t think we need; a new Christmas Carol, for instance. Indeed it may be indicative of a certain unappreciated vacancy around the Christmas tree that in discussing the BBC’s new version of the Dickens classic both its director and leading man refer back to The Muppet Christmas Carol made way back in 1992.
“I was sent the script,” admits Nick Murphy, best known for directing the Rebecca Hall ghost movie The Awakening, “and my first thought was, ‘For God’s sake! The Muppets! They nailed it. What’s the point?’ ”
Joe Alwyn, who plays Scrooge’s clerk Bob Cratchit in the BBC three-parter, has meanwhile posted a trailer on Instagram with the caption: “Hard to fill the shoes once worn by Kermit. But I tried.” The self-deprecation was quickly “hearted” by the singer Taylor Swift, who is the actor’s girlfriend and who will be watching the mini-series with Alwyn and his family in London in the final days before Christmas.
There is nothing wrong, of course, with The Muppet Christmas Carol. It is probably in most people’s top three adaptations of Dickens’s masterpiece (alongside, I would say, Alastair Sim’s 1951 version and Scrooged). Its endurance does suggest, however, that it may be time someone did something a bit more serious, a little darker and a touch more grown-up with a tale that excoriated Victorian neglect and associated Christmas with the relief of poverty for ever more.
And this is exactly what Nick Murphy has achieved with a bracingly fresh script by the Peaky Blinders creator Steven Knight. Guy Pearce’s Ebenezer Scrooge is still a “squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner”, but since Pearce is only 52, there is rather less of the old. At the end of the novel, Dickens wrote that “ever afterwards” — that is after Scrooge’s Very Bad Night — “it was always said of him that he knew how to keep Christmas well”. That is rather more of an achievement when, as in this version, you may have 40 Christmases, rather than a couple, left to you.
Equally remade is Cratchit, who in Alwyn’s incarnation is far from the bashfully gulping frog thanking his master for granting him Christmas Day off before scampering back to Miss Piggy’s fleshy arms. Although Alwyn grew a rough beard for the part, his is also the best-looking Bob Cratchit you have seen. As the actor and I talk at the Picturehouse Central cinema in London, I find him as mesmerising off screen as on.
“Bob is trapped by Scrooge,” Alwyn says. “He’s abused by him. He’s not treated fairly. He’s there only because he has to be. He’s treated like shit.”
I’d say there’s a definite feeling in their shared scenes that Bob might just snap and hit Ebenezer over the head with a poker. “That was the intention. He’s at breaking point. He’s pushed right to his limits and Scrooge, I think, relishes winding him up. All Bob can do is hold his ground and fight back as much as he can — but he isn’t such a sap in this version.”
Scrooge and Cratchit’s relationship so much resembles an unhappy marriage that the niggling, bitter exchanges invented by Knight, with very little reference to Dickens’s dialogue, resemble Steptoe and Son rewritten by Strindberg. The easy contrast would have been with the Cratchits’ poor but happy marriage, but this too comes under scrutiny. There is an acknowledgment of the challenges a disabled child can bring to a household, and it is somehow emphasised by Tiny Tim being played by Lenny Rush, an extraordinary young actor, aged ten, who has a rare form of dwarfism called spondyloepiphyseal dysplasia congenita, the same condition as Warwick Davis.
“It really mattered to me that nobody was photo-fit,” Murphy says from a studio where he is dubbing the last episode. “Bob Cratchit is always a winsome, put-upon nice guy and the Cratchits themselves represent this idea of an ideal, working-class, lovely family. So we looked into their relationship on the page and there seems a genuine tension between Bob and his wife. Things are hard. It isn’t easy to have no money and a disabled child, and they lean on each other and they’re not straight with each other and there is a genuine antagonism between them.”
Knight has written into the narrative a family secret that connects the Cratchits to Scrooge. The secret belongs to Mrs Cratchit, played by Vinette Robinson, whose part is greatly expanded; indeed, the novella does not even grant her a first name, although the Muppets, and other adaptors, opted for Emily.
“Inevitably the secret begins to surface and cracks appear in the family,” Alwyn says. “Something has to happen. I think what Steven has done is take the story and drill deeper. He hasn’t taken too much liberty. It’s not bending the truth too much from what Dickens would have wanted. Or I hope not.”
Murphy insists that worthwhile adaptations of classic texts should be “edgy” and have “a good bite to them”. “If you absolutely don’t want any variation from the book then I strongly suggest you sit in a corner at Christmas and read it again. But if you want to see it used as a prism through which we can see a broader and slightly different subject explored, then this one’s for you.”
Alwyn’s performance is part of the iconoclasm. “Joe’s instinct as an actor is always to push away from the obvious and into ambiguity,” Murphy says. “He’s very quietly spoken. He’s not brash at all. He’s a gentle, intelligent guy, but he just simply wasn’t interested in fitting a Dickensian cliché.”
“I’ll take that,” Alwyn says when I pass on the compliment, having not considered his technique in such terms. He is 28 and would probably accept that he is best known for two facts: the first is that he is Taylor Swift’s boyfriend; the second that, aged 25 and with no professional acting experience, he won the title role in an Ang Lee movie.
He is from north London, the middle of three sons. Their father is the television documentary-maker Richard Alwyn, renowned for making The Shrine about the public reaction to Princess Diana’s death.
“He was away a bit,” Alwyn says. “He made quite a lot of films in Africa when I was growing up. He was often in Uganda, Rwanda at one point, South Sudan. So he’d come back with stories and artefacts from all over the place. He made a great documentary in Liverpool during the World Cup about two kids on an estate growing up there.”
His mother, Elizabeth, is a psychotherapist. So, I say, although his family were comfortably off and he was sent to the fee-paying City of London School, he knew something of other people’s lives?
“All different kinds of people, all different kinds of stories,” he says. “Obviously, she couldn’t share them with me in the same way that Dad could, but both their jobs take an interest in other people and are about how to empathise, understand, and listen to stories and tell stories. I suppose it’s not a million miles away from an actor’s job; listening to other people, understanding them, trying to tell stories.”
I ask about the contemporary political resonances of A Christmas Carol. I cite the wealth of certain members of his profession and of Swift’s. Only the other day I have read that she has a private jet so she can visit Alwyn on a whim. He promises me that 99.9 per cent of what the press write about them is false, and this is an example.
I ask if he finds it embarrassing.
“Find what embarrassing?”
The disparity between the amount some people earn and the wages of workers in, say, Amazon fulfilment centres.
“I saw something in The Guardian the other day, I think, saying that the top six richest people in the UK accumulate the same amount of wealth as the poorest 13 million. I think that was the figure,” he says.
And politics today?
“It’s bigger than Scrooge, but it’s the same thing amplified; not being able to see beyond yourself, building walls, cutting yourself off from other countries. If there was ever a story to counter that, featuring someone who epitomises that and then who remembers who he is as a human being, it is A Christmas Carol.”
Unlike the young Dickens, Alwyn was not a boy to stand on a table and sing and dance. As a child he auditioned to play Liam Neeson’s son in the Richard Curtis film Love Actually, but didn’t get it. He harboured ambitions to act, but pursued them only later at the University of Bristol, where he took plays up to the Edinburgh Fringe. One night he acted before an audience of one: the writer’s mother. Undeterred, he went on to the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama, joining the scramble at the end to find an agent. Weeks later, his new agent rang to say that Ang Lee was working on a new film, Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk, and wanted to see an audition tape.
“I got some mates to film me in a lunch break and then my dad filmed another scene, and we got a call that night saying, ‘He wants to meet you this weekend. He’s saying, we’re going to put you on a plane and take you out of school. Come for the weekend. Learn these scenes.’ ”
As Billy, a young US Marine fêted for killing an enemy assailant in Iraq, Alwyn was painfully believable; a virgin solider returning home to be exploited for an act that had devastated him. The film did not do well, mainly because it was shot at a hyper-reality frame rate that few cinemas had the technology to show, but Alwyn was on his way.
“Things only evolve by change and people taking risks,” he says. “And Ang Lee is someone who I admire for that. None of his films are the same. Maybe thematically they draw on the same things, but he’s always pushing the boundaries.”
The same can be said for A Christmas Carol and, even more, about Yorgos Lanthimos’s The Favourite, in which Alwyn appeared alongside Emma Stone and Olivia Colman. It applies less so to his other recent films, Mary Queen of Scots, Boy Erased and now Harriet, a faithful biopic about the slave liberator Harriet Tubman in which he played a slave owner’s son. What he has managed to do consistently is work and learn from some seriously good actresses — Colman, Stone, Saoirse Ronan and Cynthia Erivo. “I know. I am targeting them,” he jokes.
I tell him my daughters have insisted I ask if he minds Swift writing songs about him (whole albums, actually, but check out London Boy if you are in search of a little cringe). “No, not at all. No. It’s flattering.”
Does it matter to him that the press — it’s a bit metatextual this, I admit, for I’m probably doing the same thing — make it obvious that they are as interested in his girlfriend as they are in him? “I just don’t pay attention to what I don’t want to pay attention to,” he explains tolerantly. “I turn everything else down on a dial. I don’t have any interest in tabloids. I know what I want to do, and that’s this, and that’s what I am doing.”
The boyf, described only the other day as “mysterious” in one of those tabloids, is no mystery at all. He knows what he wants for Christmas, and it is the career he is already forging.
A Christmas Carol begins on BBC One at 9pm on Sunday
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Love on a Dare prt 3
Part one Part two
Warnings: suggestive language, bullying, puns
The next day at school was pretty subdued with a portion of the students gone for their day of volunteer work and the rest still feeling dead on their feet from their day, zombies had nothing on this shuffling. And the brothers were no different, Deacon was laying with his head in Loga’s lap as said boyfriend dozed off, Roman and Virgil sat legs tangled as they shared earbuds, and Remus was snuggled up in a nest of all their coats. They had skipped lunch to take over one of the unused classrooms near the school’s drafty back side, it wasn’t too uncommon an occurrence with their group what was odd was the knock that came from the door. Roman was closest to the door so after a sigh of acceptance he popped out his side of the earbuds and went to see who it was, the others drowsily tried to listen in, reasons varying from boredom to preparing for a throw down.
“Hey Padre, what brings your golden locks to our neck of the woods?” Roman greets with all the flourish of a Shakespearean actor. Patton smiled at the enthusiasm and gestures to a large lunch cooler in his hand, “I figured you kids might need a pick-me-up, it’s just sandwiches and goldfish crackers.” He confesses as he goes to hand over the cooler only for the intention to be dismissed when Roman drags him into the class room. “Wake up sleeping cuties! Our knight in gleaming khakis has graced us with a feast!” The boisterous brunett declares at the others, Deacon barely flinches while Logan and Virgil look mildly annoyed at the sudden noise but they perk up at the promise of food. “Patty!” Remus cheers, the last of their party was struggling to detwine himself out of two messenger bags. It takes Logan stepping in but eventually all of them are sitting on desks and munching on snacks, it’s like an indoor picnic!
The topic of conversation drifts from their hodgepodge tastes in music to classes and the new teacher in home-ec to weekend plans, “And Deacon wants to watch the next episode of the series, it sounds like an interesting plot.” Logan says as he glances to Patton who is sitting across from him in the circle, “What do you have on the agenda this weekend Patton?” And the dastardly nerd had the audacity to glance oh so unsubtly at Remus, the others grinned or snickered as Pat blushed and Remus had an eyebrow off with the terrible nerd-boy(it was a stale-mate because they stopped to listen when Patton started to talk)“W-well we hadn’t talked about it yet. Guess we got sidetracked last night.” The poor flustered senior shrugged.
“Oooh? Sidetracked, ba-geez Remus you only talked to him once leave some mystery for later goblin king!” Virgil teased earning a facefull of sandwich wrapper from the freshmen and a warning nudge from his desk neighbor, “Don’t spook the new guy babe.” Roman stage whispers, his eyes alight with the same mischief as his boyfriend. Deacon faked a gag at their joking, Logan rolls his eyes, “Then I do hope you find time in the next few days, this weekend is supposed to be nice and it would be a shame to waste it, yes?” In an effort to ignore the implication of Virgil’s statement and preserve the happy mood Logan goes on to talk about the predictions of the local weather personality. Ok the nerd is Remus’ only ally, all other friendships were cancelled! He was getting as many bugs and lizards to dissect as his creepy nerd heart desired for that save.
Lunch wraps up in a slightly better tone but left them all scrambling to get to their next class, most days they would have to go separate ways but with Patton being there today Deacon had a walking companion it would seem. They got all the way to the front of the school chatting on and off before Deacon had to duck into his class, “See you kiddo, have a great day!” Patton calls as he continued his way to the entrance and out the doors. Dee hadn’t even gotten to wave back with the way the older boy sped away, it was weird but it left Dee feeling sad that the other didn’t wait a return goodbye, “Oh wow, the freakshow made friends with another creep!” Deacon sighs, he forgot that this lesson was the one he had with a bunch of idiots from middle school, “Guess since your dad left your sorry ass you must have gone looking for a new one.” They really liked bringing that up, it didn’t even sting anymore. “Why yes, I absolutely did that thing you just said because I’m so sad a human being, he even packs my lunch for me.” Deacon deadpans as he takes his seat and takes out his folder. The whispers and scorn don’t stop but they could go screw themselves, Pat was leagues above them, so what if being called kiddo had made him feel nice and the little bit of lunch they had tasted good because you could taste it was made with love? So what? He wouldn’t give these worms the pleasure of knowing that, Remus better keep this guy around.
With his classes over for the day Patton packed up the lunch cooler into the minivan and heads back home to get ready. He had a lot to do before the little ones got home, laundry was piling up, the dishes need to be unloaded, and dinner had to be started. They were running low on groceries so he would have to make a list for his next day off this week. He needed to make sure to save some money for his date, his DATE! It was so exciting to just spend an afternoon with someone his own age, he loved his kids and the ladies at work but it was hard not knowing what it was like to just be a teenager. Pat hummed with the pop song playing on the radio while he thought about how fun it had been to eat with the others and how they had included him. The song winds down as he pulls into the driveway of the and big brother mode is activated, school and friends would have to wait, he had just over 2 hours to get everything done before the kids got home and tore through it again and he couldn’t blow it all on thinking about a cute boy! Nope! But he really really wanted to, stupid responsibilities and adorable siblings with their puppy eyes, he’d just have to wait till tonight to think about Remus.
(∩｀-´)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟtag list *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
@jessiebbb @alexa-lettuce @deceits-left-glove @dorkyduckling16 @lallyphant @newblue002 @hi-its-tutty @d-c-it @thatgaydemigodnerd
If you want on/off the list let me know
#foxx writes#ss love on a dare au#love on a dare#ss patton#ss remus#ss roman#ss logan#ss virgil#ss deciet#intruality#ss high school au
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Dance Around - Jump Forward Part 1
I’m back! And this time with an entirely new obsession.
Death Stranding has become one of my favorite games at the moment, and I’m really loving (most) of the characters. Higgs is probably my favorite, just because he is so, personally, fascinating. He is also voiced by Troy Baker, who, if you don’t know, if an exceptionally talented voice actor who played Joel in The Last of Us.
I got this entire story from an ask that @dirty-higgs-confessions had gotten a week or so back, it was meant to be more a humorous idea, but I’ve always loved my angst.
Also! Please help me out with this! If there’s something that seems off (especially with Higgs’ character), go ahead and tell me! I really want to write him properly, and while I’m going to be writing a lot for him because of that, any help is always appreciated :)
Please Enjoy - Dance Around - Jump Forward Part 1
Warnings - Swearing, Higgs
Words - 3461 (10 google doc pages)
The Death Stranding left most people with a type of pain indescribable. Everything that kept people going in life - everything that people held dear - was ripped away in the blink of an eye. Snap. Boom. Explosion after explosion decimated the world to nothing but a foreign wasteland. Warping it into some alien planet and forcing the people inhabiting it to adapt without a moments notice. Then, before anyone could even begin to unwrap the baggage they were given, humanity began to tear at the seams. People became distant, cold - hiding away from the world that had turned its back on them as well.
The people that were born after the Stranding? They didn’t have it any better either. Parents who were unable to deal with their own mental health, weren’t able to give their children what they needed to flourish. The people who tried to keep everything together and tied with a neat bow crumbled as well, until only a few scrambled to keep the pieces in the same box.
Vulnerability had become a weakness. Caring for people risked more weight to be added to one’s shoulders. Emotions were buried somewhere deep and desolate, covered in chains and locks. Sealed shut in a place no one would be able to reach.
In the end, feeling nothing was easier than the dawning realization that followed when coming to the sudden, and harsh, realization that everything was eventually going to crumble to dust.
It was bleak, depressing, but to most of all, it was the only way to survive.
Emotions were unreliable. They didn’t help people to survive. If anything - they were the reason for countless, and avoidable, deaths. Sentiment and heroism only served to cloud their judgment, and left them vulnerable to more pain than what they had already experienced - more than ever they needed or deserved.
(Y/N) was taught this as soon as they could understand words, the ideologies were pounded into their mind until it became a mantra they repeated over and over again, often when even the mere thought of becoming something more than a passerby - a stranger to all - crossed their minds.
Though it was lonely it was also safe. They had learned the repercussions of having connections long ago.
That’s why when Higgs came into their life, they had tried to damnedest to not let the craving for the attention, for that bloody connection, get in the way of the logical choice. He was nothing more than another passerby, bound to leave one way or another.
The occurrence of their connection was unplanned - just a mere result. (Y/N) had just very thoroughly taught a camp of Homo Demens that they weren’t one to be fucked with. No one was dead, but to say (Y/N) went easy on them would be a laughable. Higgs had appeared, ready to make an example of them, when, for some peculiar reason he couldn’t quite point out if asked, he had changed his mind.
They were entertaining, didn’t blink an eye when he tried to scare them, only gave him a blank stare before continuing to walk passed him. Whatever threats he threw their way, (Y/N) would just clench their jaw and continue on with whatever they were doing. They hadn’t even blinked an eye when he summoned some BTs, only a tilt of the head before looking him dead in the eye and challenging him.
“Do it.” They had said it casually, as if they weren’t asking him to feed them to BTs. As if they weren’t asking him to do the one thing everybody fears the most.
From then on he made it his mission to bother them, drive them up the wall whenever he decided he was bored and needed some sustenance. (Y/N) had almost throttled him for the number of times he had said just the right nerve to get them furious. Higgs seemed to enjoy the red hot rage he initiated whenever he spoke.
They danced around each other, thinly veiled threats and insults thrown both ways at every possibly turn.
Neither knew when those insults slowly became warm and endearing, - hell, (Y/N) didn’t know how Stalker, a nickname they gave him after he found them for the fifteenth time that month, stopped being thrown in hopes of him leave them alone.
Soon those dances - those shared moments and conversations turned into something more. Something that became convoluted yet oh so simple as the months rolled by.
If (Y/N) had to pin the true emergence of these feelings, or whatever they thought they were, to one time, it would be when he appeared in their shelter. Zapping in without a moments notice, leaning against the kitchen island with his hands gripping the countertop. He looked weary. Shoulders didn’t hold nearly as much of the strength and arrogant cockiness that they always held. The bags under his eyes seemed darker, heavier. The smile on his face, one that made (Y/N) to feel far too many emotions for them to process, was fleeting and distant. He looked like a ghost of his true self.
His teases didn’t hold nearly as much mirth to them, either He looked… conflicted. Like something dark and heavy was weighing on his mind, encircling it in a cloud he just couldn’t shake off. Hell, even when he called them “darlin’”, it seemed to come out with less of an expectation for some threat or insult to be thrown back, and more… (Y/N) stopped that train of thought before it could go any further.
“The fuck are you doing here, Stalker?” Their words came out harsh, but more out of playing the act than actually trying to be hostile. Higgs gave a soft, flat chuckle and a shake of his head. He gave a quick grin, though forced, and throw a jab their way, again, forcefully.
“Oh, nothing really,” He started, hands falling from the counter and sliding into his pockets. “Just came to see how my favourite ball of joy was doing, Darlin’.” He gave a quick wink, but it only took a few seconds before (Y/N) could see the smile was growing heavy on him. They would have thrown something back had it not been for the way his eyes left theirs to navigate the house. It was if he knew that they could sense something was wrong, and couldn’t bare to see the realization kick into their eyes.
There was silence for a few minutes. Not tense, but definitely not comfortable either. (Y/N) realized he wasn’t going to explain why he was actually here, not anytime soon. It was a mystery, just like the rest of him. An enigma that (Y/N) had a hard time not finding fascinating. They always wondered what thoughts went trailing through his head. What he was thinking in those moments when the two talked.
What he was thinking when he decided to cause tragedy after tragedy.
There was a tinge of frustration in their chest when they realized that he was just going to stay quiet. At this point, however, they knew they shouldn’t have been surprised. Higgs had a near phobia of vulnerability, a fear that they couldn’t blame him for having. Not when they felt the exact same way. He was definitely not going to be telling them anything even relatively emotional anytime soon, not without prying his walls open with selfish claws. Though (Y/N) wanted to ask, it was obvious that interrogating wasn’t going to do anything other than push him away.
On top of it all, for some reason, a part of them would much rather have been welcomed a look inside his mind on his own time. Given a key to roam the wings of his mind instead of forcing themselves in. He was a strong man, no doubt. But they could tell that he could breakdown so easily if someone was given the right route to the safe where he kept his emotions.
(Y/N) gave him a soft smile as they walked past him into the kitchen. They made sure to give his shoulder to lightest of nudges with theirs. “How about a drink?”
Things changed after that. Though, not entirely for the worse.
Including the numerous times he would blip into their life on the road, there were the nights when he would appear in (Y/N)’s bunker. Often in an array of different moods, sometimes he would be like the first time he came, and other times seemed to be because he actually just… missed them - though both knew he would never say that.
It turned into a schedule eventually. Every second weekend, if not every single one, for a night of just talking. Discussing anything that came to mind and sharing stupid stories and theories. (Y/N) would be lying if they said that those nights weren’t their favourite. It made their weeks just a little more tolerable.
Now, (Y/N) was never one for believing in permanent bonds with people. People came and went - that was that. They had learned enough about that from their times out in this nearly dystopian world. But with each time they talked to Higgs, the strand between them seemed to grow stronger. Intertwining and making it more difficult for them to be apart the longer they were together.
Though neither of the two admitted it, though neither believed the other truly felt the same, the connection they had created seemed unbreakable.
Then…
Then everything came crashing down.
Quick and harsh. A whirlwind of events that had everything (Y/N) had built with Higgs slowly fall apart.
“What the fuck do you mean you can’t “deal” with me anymore!?” (Y/N)’s voice rang out through the shelter. Arms opened in exasperation, eyes wide with confusion and thinly veiled fear.
“Exactly what it means, Darlin’.” His mask was on. Voice muffled from the thick plastic and chiralium mask. They couldn’t remember the last time he wore that around them, or bring up anytime when he wore it inside (Y/N)’s bunker. “I’ve got more important problems.” His shoulders moved up in a jagged shrug. It felt so casual, as if he hadn’t just broken their heart in seconds like it was nothing.
As if everything the two had built was nothing.
As if (Y/N) was nothing.
Finally, the emotions were coming to the surface. Among the toxic brew of shock, anger, resentment, and fear, there was this sickening - overwhelmingly painful emergence of fucking love. Strong and potent and they were amazed this was the first time they had genuinely, truly noticed it.
“So-so what? You’re just going to act like we don’t have anything between us? Like this was nothing more than a way to pass the fucking time!?” (Y/N)’s voice was getting louder, and it took everything in them to not let that crack at the end become something worse. They were not going to meltdown now.
There was a thick silence in the air, and (Y/N) could have sworn his shoulders tensed just slightly before he straightened to his full height and took a step forward, menacingly, as if hoping to intimidate the only person who had never once been scared of him.
“Oh?” His head tilted and the chuckle he let out was most definitely condescending. (Y/N) could almost feel the kind of grin he had on his face. The one he used just before he said something stupid. “And just what did you think this was?” He was mocking them now. A deep, resounding chuckle filled the new found emptiness as he shook his head. “You didn’t truly think that I, Higgs, the particle of God that permeates all of existence would feel sentiment towards you? A half-decent porter with attachment issues?”
There was no way to stop the shuddering breath that escaped after that.
“... Fuck…” (Y/N) hissed under their breath, cursing the tears that were slipping from their traitors of eyes. They looked down, unable to look at that mask anymore, and pinched the bridge of their nose. They hoped this wasn’t true. That Higgs was panicking and running away or-or trying to protect them in some pathetic and dreadful way.
It was all too much to handle, and the pain growing in their chest turned into what they imagined placing hot coal on top of their heart would feel like. Boiling the blood in their veins as they looked up with what must have been the sourest look they had given him.
There was no way they were going to let him treat them like this, no way they were going to believe these disgusting lies when the past two months had been something utterly different from any other time in their relationship. They took a step forward, looking up at him with a jutted chin and clenched jaw, challenging him.
“So. What now? Are you going to kill me?” (Y/N) took another shaky step forward. “Let my body rot and necrotize? Cause a voidout because that’s what fucking terrorists do?”
Higgs froze at that. Shoulders tightening up yet again, like iron coils twisting just before they were about to snap.
The question hung in the air.
“If I’m of no use to you anymore, it would only make sense, wouldn’t it?”
(Y/N) was about to let a small laugh out, a sigh of relief, after he didn’t reply. They opened their mouth, about to explain to him just what he did and how stupid it was for him to push away the only person who cared so much for him, but he jumped before they could. Black specks chiralium hanging in the air. A second later the sound of him jumping back into existence appeared. He was behind them now, threateningly close as an arm wrapped around their waist and pressed them against him. His breath ghosted their neck as he let out a breathy chuckle. His composure was back and in full force, and for once - just this once, (Y/N) felt a cold shiver run up their spine.
“You would like to think that, wouldn’t you, Darlin’? His arm tightened as if showing that it would be so easy to end them right then and there. “But… here’s the thing, Sugar. Those DOOMs that you’ve been trying to keep quiet this entire time? They’ll come in handy one day. And when they do, I’ll be right there to use them up.”
Then…
Then he disappeared.
(Y/N) stood in that spot for what felt like hours. Flatlined, numb.
It took weeks before they were able to get out of the shelter.
“Thank you. So much.” The Engineers’ hologram gave a kind smile and a wave. Checking over the body achingly heavy supplies (Y/N) had just lugged all the way from the Distribution Center South of Lake Knot City. They were just appreciative of the truck they had gotten. It would have never been capable of doing so with out it, admittedly. They were no Sam Porter - though, at this point, that man was most definitely not human.
“No problem, man. Just doing my job.” (Y/N) tried to sound nice, giving a tight smile before he fizzled out of existence and (Y/N)’s rating came up. In all honesty, however, their mind was elsewhere. Thinking of someone who for the past month continued to find his way into their train of thoughts.
Higgs
(Y/N) missed him so much. It felt like another part of their heart had been torn off. It should have been just another name to add to the list of people they lost, should have just given them another reason why you never get attached. What shouldn’t have been happening was the bone marrow deep aching like a part of them had been torn away from them. It brought back painful memories, ones they had sealed in a part of their mind, buried in the deepest grave possible.
It was an ache that almost made them concerned enough to go to a doctor. Deep and hallow, and there was no fucking way to ignore it. Booze, cigarettes, weed - whatever they could get their hands on, the feelings wouldn’t go away. It was so stupid to fall down that hole when (Y/N) and Higgs hadn’t even been a thing - hell, they hadn’t even discussed if they were friends or not.
The self pity and debilitating heartbreak lasted three or so weeks before (Y/N) forced themselves into a shower. Shucking on clean clothing and the white porter suit and getting back to doing orders again.
It felt nice. Being clear-headed (to some degree) and having fresh air to help them think more level headedly (just barely). But even thinking his name caused a lump in their throat.
They should have been relieved to have him gone. He was a fucking terrorist. He killed people just to make a stupid statement. He didn’t even blink while doing so either, just did it. Along with that? If someone found out (Y/N) had known him, and willingly hung out with him, and had not said anything to authorities, (Y/N) would have been in a world of trouble.
Even with all this, they couldn’t help but still miss him and his stupid smile. It almost disgusted them, to care about someone like that, though emotions honestly had a mind of their own, it was still something (Y/N) should have controlled, just like they had with everyone else.
They kicked a rock on their way back to the truck. Head shaking and staring up at the clear blue sky with a harsh and resentful glare.
“Common, (Y/N). Out of anyone you’ve gotten attached to, the terrorist - a bloody monster - shouldn’t be one of them. He’s hurt people, he’s probably continuing to hurt people as you give yourself this pathetic pep talk!” They didn’t even realize they had finished the sentence with a yell as they jumped into their black truck. They looked up at the rearview window, into their own eyes with the same cold glare. “You really are a fool, you know that? How about next time you go fuck a MULE?” A groan left their lips as tears started prickling at their eyes, and eventually, they had to look away, proceeding to lightly bump their forehead against the steering wheel as light sobs racked their bodies.
They really did love him… There was no other way to look at this. (Y/N) loved him with their entire being, and there was no way to get rid of these emotions.
That night, as (Y/N) fell asleep in their disheveled bed without even trying to get their clothes off, they had their first dream in months.
It started black. Pitch black with no sound, no anything. But (Y/N) knew they were conscious to some degree. Floating in a void that brought back memories they didn’t want to think about.
The sounds appeared first. Soft waves crashing against the sand followed by the crying of seagulls and the distant rumbling of a storm. Next was a smell. Ozone with a hint of rotting corpses and the churning saltiness of a polluted sea.
After the gag reflex disappears, sight brought all the puzzle pieces together.
(Y/N) was on the Beach. Or, at least a Beach.
Beached Whales littered the Beach ahead of them, and when squinting and peaking through them, (Y/N) could see the ocean licking at the sand.
Awe.
That’s what they felt. Incomprehensible awe at the sight before them. It was all so real. Vivid and hauntingly beautiful. (Y/N) didn’t know whether to be scared or excited over the prospect of actually seeing this.
The anxiety seemed to rear its head quite quickly afterwards. The tiny voice in the back of their head tried to explain that this might very well be theirs. That they had died for some reason. And with that came the panic of realizing that they would then be necrotizing - that they would cause a voidout.
A hand landing softly on their shoulder, eliciting indignant squawk that (Y/N) would have been more than embarrassed at, had they not just been scared out of their skin and clean pants.
“What the fuck?” The shout stopped when they turned around. Ending with a gasp as they took a quick step back and looked over the person in front of them.
What the fuck indeed.
There was a silence in the air for a second, before the woman gave a soft, comforting smile.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid. I just came to talk.”
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