Summary: You finally visit Joe on set with your daughter.
Warnings: A poorly written toddler (let’s just say she’s shy I’m soory)
Requested: Yep by @borhapgirlforlife19
Word Count: 1000
A/N: I haven’t written for these guys in ages I missed them but anyways enjoy hope you like this.
Visiting Joe on set was a common thing in your relationship from the moment you both knew it was serious. You loved seeing him work and he loved having you around in between takes or during his breaks, it became such a special thing in your relationship that he proposed on one of your visits. He was lucky enough to be shooting on location that day, a beach to be exact, it was also a night shoot, and he took the opportunity during the first break. It wasn’t elaborate at all, but you didn’t see it coming and were genuinely surprised and, in your eyes, it was the perfect proposal.
However, once you had a baby you knew you had to stop visiting on set as often as you did, he always insisted that your daughter could go and be on set with him that you could stay at his trailer while he was busy, you on the other side didn’t feel comfortable with having your baby in an unknown environment surrounded by strangers, it would overwhelm her and you knew that a quiet set and colicky fussy baby wasn’t a good combination.
“Just let her grow up a bit” you told him “I promise you that once I feel sure enough that she won’t be a bother for the crew we’ll be there.”
“Fine” he huffed holding the six-month-old baby close to his chest.
Joe was about to start a new production, the first one since he took a break during your pregnancy and first few months of Grace’s life. He didn’t want to leave both of you he wasn’t ready but how could he ever be ready to leave his little family?
Time passed and your beautiful baby girl was now three, almost four, years old and she hadn’t seen her dad at work not once due to the agreement you had with Joe. From day one he was more than ready to have Grace on set with him, but he also knew that you had to be same page as him and, so far, you hadn’t changed your mind.
“Okay I gotta go” he said taking one last bite to his breakfast. He had been casted as John Deacon on the Queen biopic, and you had come with him this time before Grace started preschool.
He kissed you goodbye and kissed his daughter’s head quickly “Bye princess.”
“Bye daddy!” she replied with a giggle.
An idea crossed your mind, Grace was old enough to understand what being quiet meant and most of the time she was a well-behaved toddler. Yes, she threw tantrums, was an energetic ball hard and it was sometimes hard to keep up with her, but she wasn’t anything you couldn’t control if the situation needed it plus the most stressful shot of the whole movie had already been done so you wouldn’t be making Joe even more nervous.
“You wanna go see daddy?” you asked her with a smile. Her eyes lit up so quickly and she nodded.
You cleaned up the kitchen and got Grace ready to go. You took one of those set passes that Joe always get you and drove to where they would be shooting.
“Okay baby we have to be really quiet” you told her in a whisper “we want to keep this a surprise, okay?”
“Quiet” she giggled in the same tone as you with her index finger on her mouth.
They were shooting the first concert they ever had with Freddie as a front man and Deaky as bass player. It was a closed set so you couldn’t go in while the neon sign outside said that they were filming.
“And cut!” the director yelled “take a break everybody, I’ll let you know if need another shot.”
On your side the neon sign went off so it meant that you could go inside with your little girl in your arms.
“Do you see who’s there?” you asked Grace putting her down.
“Daddy!” she giggled running to him. Even with a long wig and 70’s clothing she recognized him. He was a daddy’s girl after all.
“Grace!” Joe exclaimed completely ignoring Ben, who was a having a conversation with him, he quickly picked her daughter up. “What are you doing here? Where’s your momma?”
“I thought she was old enough to visit you” you answered walking up to him.
“So, we finally get to meet little Mazzello today?” the blonde man asked. The whole cast had met you but not Grace though they had seen plenty of photos thanks to Joe.
“I-yeah I mean I guess” Joe was still processing the surprise. This is all he ever wanted a ’bring your child to work’ day “this is Grace”.
“Uncle Rami!” she exclaimed once he saw him.
“Want to stay with Uncle Rami?” Joe asked her to which she agreed.
Joe gave Grace to Rami and let him introduce her to Ben and Gwilym while he talked to you.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” he asked.
“If I had, then you wouldn’t be surprised” you smiled.
“Believe me I’m shocked” he sighed not trying to hide his smile “what made you change your mind?”
“I just thought why not” you shrugged “you’ve wanted her on a set with you for such a long time.”
“I think she likes it here” you said when you saw her play with Joe’s costars.
“Yeah” he smiled “after this scene I have an actual break so we can spend time in my trailer yeah?”
You nodded everyone seemed to be going back to their places, so you had to go fetch Grace.
“Sorry gentlemen but I think we’re not needed here” you said picking up your girl from Ben’s arms.
“Pretty” she squealed out of nowhere. You weren’t sure if it meant Ben or the wigs they were wearing.
“You think I’m pretty?” Ben spoke and she nodded making Joe eyes wide. Ben wouldn’t let Joe forget this one.
Summary: After walking in on your long-term boyfriend, Harrison, cheating on you and then losing your job the following day; your find yourself broke, jobless, and single for the first time in a long while. In order to make ends meet, your best friend since college, Freddie, suggests you start soliciting explicit photos of yourself, not only to help boost your confidence but to help pay the rent for his band mate’s apartment you just moved into.
A/N: ALL RIGHTY CUTIES!! This is where the story starts to pick up! I might take a little break in writing because the next chapter has literally taken me a week and a half to write up because I just can not get it right and I want to work ahead for when the semester begins to pick up. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this newest chapter! As always I really appreciate and read every comment I get on this, and love all the likes, reblogs, and asks i have been getting!
Pairing: Roger Taylor x F!Reader
Warnings: Language, mentions of sex work, cam sex, mutual masturbation, masturbation, sexual tension, some friendly banter between roger and reader, slight arguing, maybe some slut shaming, not proof read, shit is getting juicy.
Word Count: 2.4k
Today was the day.
After heavy deliberation and a lot of working around schedules you and Mojo_Man had found a day and time that worked for the two of you. In the time it took to plan this whole ordeal you found that Mojo_Man, whoever he was, was pleasant to talk to and he even paid for a lifetime subscription to your Snapchat. The attention he had been giving you was nice to say the least.
You wore just a silky robe and sat strategically in front of your camera, only showing your shoulders on down. Your computer screen lit up with the call, you let it ring a few times before you answered, to make it look like you hadn’t been nervously waiting for this mystery man to call you.
When he answered, his room was darker than yours, only illuminated by a dull orange light in the corner of the room. You could make out the shape of his body, he was slim but looked like his body was secretly lean by the definition you could see in his arms. You couldn’t tell much more because like you, his face was also covered.
“Hey,” You said, shifting to sit on your knees, your thighs peaking through the gap in your dressing gown.
Mojo waved and the little typing icon popped up. ‘Sorry, no mic.’ He sent.
You couldn’t help but smile even though he couldn’t see it, waving your hand in a dismissive manor “’S okay.” You said casually, “So,” You dragged out the ‘o’ “Thank you for your generous gifts,” You shifted once more, purposefully slipping your robe down your shoulders “What do you want to do first?” You asked in a sensual manor.
Mojo Man sighed deeply as though he were in thought, ‘You can slip the rest of the robe off if you wanted.’ You felt heat spreading from the back of your neck to the tips of your ears at how polite he was. You found that typically men were very demanding and wanted to be in control, often ordering you around. But for once, it was nice to have a suggestion instead of a command.
You glanced down and undid the tie around your waist, opening the robe and sliding it down. The silky fabric pooled around your hips as your breasts became exposed for your one-man audience. You saw the slender man’s chest heave with arousal and felt a surge of pride swell through you. Your hand traveled down your chest, rubbing over the swell of your breasts and kneading them delicately in your hand before you moved down, pinching and rubbing your nipples between your thumb and pointer finger to get them erect. It didn’t take long before they hardened, your touch working in tandem with the cold.
You lifted your hips, sliding out of what remained of your robe and rubbed your hands along your thighs. The breath in the back of your throat hitched when you watched the stranger shift his camera ever so slightly down to expose his cock that lazily laid against his stomach. He stroked it in slow languid motions. You could see his chest rising and falling as he began to get more erect in his hand.
A soft moan left your mouth at the sight. God a stranger’s dick shouldn’t have been this arousing to you, but here you were.
Your legs instinctively spread apart exposing yourself to him and you dipped your finger between your fold. Grinding it in circular motions around your clit in an attempted to match his pace. Your hips bucked against your hand’s slow teasing pace and your eyes remained locked on the internet man’s dick and his hand firmly gripping his now fully erect member.
You whimpered, picking your pace up and now strumming your self rapidly, throwing your head back with a breathy moan, “Come on, baby I wanna hear you.” You sensually said. You hadn’t even thought of the words before they left your mouth.
Mojo’s hand faltered a moment before his free hand typed out a message to you, ‘I don’t know.. I don’t want my roommate to hear.’ You couldn’t help but smirk, thinking of the unsuspecting Roger who could walk into the apartment at any moment or walk into your room at any moment and see you fingering yourself for some stranger.
“It’s okay, I’m sure they wont mind.” you said slowing your strumming yourself and watched as the little crossed out microphone icon became bolded. A shiver of anticipation ran through you as you watched the mystery man once again, tightly grip his hard cock and pump it in his hand. He let out a shaky breath and you felt your face heating up at the sound. His voice was soft with a hidden roughness behind it that made your tummy tingle, “Come on, baby, let me hear you.” You said moving against yourself with more vigor.
The internet stranger’s jerking pumps matched your pace and your slightly staticky voices mingled together and filled both yours and his room. The slender man’s hips bucked against his hand as the two of continued to watch each other get off.
“Fuck,” You abruptly hissed out, your fingers buried deep inside you, hitting all the right spots “Can… can I come please?” the words slipped out of you mouth with little thought.
A short laugh bubbled from the man’s chest, “Not yet, baby.” You could tell his jaw was clenched tightly from how he spoke.
Your eyes fluttered shut and you tipped your head back trying to picture his face. Darker blonde hair, that was confirmed by the light dusting of chest hair he had, and blue? No. Green eyes.
He choked out a desperate sigh, “Shit,” he grunted, thrusting hard into his hand, “I’d love to see that ass of yours bouncing on my cock.”
Your walls clenched at his words, he could see it from the angle of his camera, and you let out a high-pitched sigh in response. The closer he got the more vocal he was. You loved every vulgar word that fell like syrup from his lips.
But there was something so familiar about his voice that caused your mind to spin. Your fogged over lust filled brain could barely comprehend what was going on after being on edge from your release for so long. It was as though your toes danced on the ledge of a building and the threat of falling was hammering against your chest.
Suddenly your walls clenched, and you sobbed out, having to cover your mouth to stifle the noise while you rolled your hips against your fingers. The mystery man soon followed, shooting ropes of come onto his stomach, he sat for a moment to catch his breath “Be right back,” He mumbled before abruptly standing up and leaving his computer chair probably for some tissues.
The light flicked on in his room and you took in what little you could see in, the cluttered clothes on the floor, the messy bed spread that made it look as though he kicked it off every time he woke up. It was interesting to see into the lives of your clients.
He came back and his computer screen illuminated his now clothed chest. He was now wearing an old Jimi Hendrix shirt and you couldn’t help but smile- Roger had the same shirt, upon further inspection you saw that Roger also had the same bracelets and necklace your client wore too. Your stomach clenched with dread “Roger! You- you” you pointed an accusatory finger at the camera, not caring that it fell, exposing your face as you abruptly got up and struggled to find your words. A wave of confusion and rage washed over you, causing your orgasmic fog to dissipate immediately.
“[Y/N]?” Roger sounded just as confused as you felt “Oh, fuck.” He muttered to himself.
You threw your robe back on and stomped over to your door, ripping it open and meeting Roger half way down the hallway “How could you watch me masturbate!” You shouted at him, raising and flailing your arms in frustration.
“How was I supposed to know it was you masturbating!” He shouted back in an equally frustrated voice, “Fucking Christ.” He hastily ran a hand through his hair, “You spread your pussy for every bloke on the internet now? Is that how you pay for the rent, with-” He motioned between the two of you, blowing out a frustrated puff of air “With dirty sex money?”
Your mouth could have hit the floor if it was possible, “It’s none of your bloody business how I make my money! It’s Fred’s fault anyways, he suggested it!” Your brain vividly played Fred’s voice over and over again in your head before you pushed it aside to clear up more questions “You were the one that gave me the dirty sex money anyways!” you were on a roll now, “What the fuck kind of a name is Mojo Man anyways! You couldn’t have come up with something clever?”
Roger’s jaw gaped much like yours, his face riddled with disbelief, “I can’t help it I’m horny and want to pay for attention from girls!” Roger clenched his fists together in frustration and pushed past you, hastily slipping his shoes on, not even bothering to untie them and throwing on a leather jacket “It’s a Jimi Hendrix song, by the way.” He hissed, slamming your apartment door behind him causing the mirror in the hallway to slant.
You let out a frustrated noise, a cross between a growl and a groan and found your self pacing the hall, back and forth, back and forth while muttering to yourself like you’d gone mad. “Fucking hell! I can’t believe I wasn’t more careful, what am I? A fucking fool, that’s what you are.” You stopped yourself, realizing your solo conversation was making you look more insane than you had hoped. You raided the fridge, stealing several of Roger’s beers. He wouldn’t mind anyways, it wasn’t like the two of you had boundaries anymore after wanking in front of each other.
So, there you sat, on the couch, brooding, thinking, and drinking several beers. You hated to admit it, but the chemistry between you and Roger during your private session with him was hot, just thinking about it caused a clench in your gut that you couldn’t push away. You thought of ringing up Freddie for advice, but you could already hear the howling laughter that would rattle your ear drums, so you opted to continue thinking in silence. But still found your mind drifting back to his words, the rise and fall of his soft chest, and his soft gravely moans that would forever haunt your memory.
An idea crept into your brain, slinking against the shadows before it forced its way through and now had your full attention. You couldn’t shove it away and it echoed against your brain.
Ask Roger to help you with your content.
You’d seen it many times and heard girls talking about it on various forums and chatroom communities dedicated to sex work but never though you’d ever come across the opportunity yourself. Countless women had their spouses, partners, and even friends help with their content from time to time; they found that it helped provide a variety of things to post and proved to be an advantage.
You mulled it over a bit more, sipping on your cold beer. It would be nice to not have to take screen shots of videos you took of you doing various poses and there was the benefit of actually having sex. You hadn’t gotten any action from a real-life human being since Harrison and frankly, you’d forgotten what good sex was like and something told you that Roger would be able to help you remember.
The come down from your adrenaline high mixed with the beer and soon put you to sleep on the couch. Only waking up to Roger roughly shaking you. He reeked of cigarettes, you scrunched your nose up and could tell he’d taken a walk outside to chain smoke and think. It was a stress habit you’d noticed in your few months of living with him.
You blinked one blurry eye at him, your vision clearing and noted the soft, almost sympathetic gaze he’d cast down at you. You sat up, sitting sideways into the corner of the couch to offer him a seat which he graciously accepted, “I’m sorry for calling your money dirty sex money.” Roger mumbled, his face flushed with embarrassment.
You cleared the sleep from your throat “I’m sorry for making fun of your username.” You mumbled in the same apologetic tone. You turned your body towards him and let out a nervous cough, just enough to force his gaze in your direction, “I… um… I wanted-” you inhaled and exhaled deeply before you started over again to gather your thoughts “Do you want to help me?”
Roger jumped at the volume of your voice and you mumbled a soft ‘sorry’ before looking back at him. His face was riddled with confusion, “What?” He asked quirking his head to the side.
“You know, filming and content and stuff.” You couldn’t bare to look at him any longer, the conversation was almost painful making it easy to avert your gaze.
Roger cleared his throat and tried to act casual, but he was almost as uncomfortable as you, “Would… would I get a part of the profit?” He asked, sneaking a side glance at you.
You honestly hadn’t even though of that. “80/20” That was the first number that popped up into your mind.
Roger scoffed, “50/50” he argued back, “If my dicks going to be on display, I want half.”
You found yourself frowning deeply “70/30 and I won’t hide my face anymore, but you can.”
Roger hummed, you didn’t know if he was actually in deep thought or just mocking you, “Fine, but we also get to fuck without cameras too, and I want the first time we hook up to just be natural, no cameras.” He crossed his arms over his chest “Got to make sure it’s worth my time.” He made sure to add.
You rolled your eyes at his back handed comment, “You talk a big game, bet you’ll be the disappointing one.” You knew it was a lie the moment you said it. But you would never admit it.
Hey there, was hoping to make a request? Can I get something where the borhap boys move into an apartment next to yours after they've finished filming. The reader is a massive fan of Queen and BoRhap, but she doesn't know that its them who've moved in? One day she's practicing playing guitar or something and heres heaps of music so she goes to ask if they can turn it down and then realises its them? Maybe they have some jam sessions or maybe a romance buds from it? Thanks!
I’m gonna go with Gwilym because I don’t have nearly enough of him in my masterlist. Thanks for the request, honey!! I love this concept xx
Fucking hell.
This was the third night in a row. You groaned, shoving a pillow over your ears. The electric guitar in the apartment next to yours was basically shaking your bedroom walls. Did they have no consideration for people around them? It was - you rolled over to check the time - 9pm.
Oh.
Okay, so maybe it was totally justified that they were playing guitar. Still, did it have to be so loud? You rolled over, keeping the pillow pressed against your ears, calculating in your head how much sleep you’d be getting before you had to get up for work in the ungodly hours of the morning. Your mind wandered to your next door neighbour, not that you’d met them. Or seen them. In your half-awake state, you wondered what kind of person they were. To practise guitar in the evening, very well but very loudly. To have left boxes strewn in the hallway. So they were a cluttered, messy artist, but talented enough to get away with it. Exactly your type.
Some time later, how long you couldn’t tell, they were still playing the guitar just as loudly as they were (assumingly) a couple hours ago. They were repeating the same thing over and over, and it was getting so annoying and you were so frustrated, that you couldn’t take it anymore. With a huff, you threw your covers back and threw on a hoodie over your pyjamas and fixed your hair so it wasn’t so terribly messy, basically storming out your apartment and banging on the door next to yours.
Behind the door, you heard the guitar stop abruptly, and you let out a small sigh of relief. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, but you swore your ears were ringing. You didn’t cease your loud knocking, your fist banging against the door making it shake. You heard some shuffling behind the door, and a huff of frustration.
“I’m coming!” The exasperated manly voice startled you slightly, and even more so when the door opened and you nearly punched the man in front of you in the face; luckily he ducked out of the way in time.
“Woah!”
“Shit, sorry!” you dropped your hand, and suddenly it registered who was standing in front of you.
Gwilym fucking Lee.
For some reason, the first thought that crossed your mind was that he didn’t seem like the loud musician type. Wasn’t he an actor?
You literally stumble sideways in shock, but lean against the doorframe to play it off like you meant to. He ignored your apology, his eyebrows raising at your awkwardness and initial, arguably justified, frustration.
It occurred to you that your ‘outfit,’ or lack thereof, and messy hair, was completely inadequate and you crossed your arms across your chest. Gwilym was, on the other hand, dressed to the nines; smart pants, sweater, sneakers, and glasses perched on his nose.
“Can I help you?” He seemingly couldn’t hide the sassy tone in his voice, and despite being a big fan of his work, you let out a huff. You couldn’t believe the guy was such an asshole.
“I mean, yeah, do you know how loud you were being? Some of us need sleep.” You rubbed your eyes; on purpose for dramatic purposes or not, you weren’t even sure yourself. Gwilym glanced down at his watch, and his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. Maybe it was later than you thought; you’d merely stumbled out of your apartment after what seemed an endless amount of tossing and turning to the thumping music.
“I guess I lost track of time. I am sorry, actually.” He seemed genuine, and it melted your heart and softened your resolve immediately. The entire atmosphere changed within an instant.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry for being so snappy,” you gave him a shy smile, ignoring the thumping in your heart at his return of your smile, and you continued, “Just keep it down, please?”
“I will…” he trailed off, looking at you with raised eyebrows.
“Y/N.” You stuck your hand out, and he shook it.
“Gwilym.”
“I know.” You gave him an amused smirk, turning to leave.
“You do? Why didn’t you say anything?” He chuckled softly.
“Welcome to the building, Gwilym,” you chimed over your shoulder, going back into your apartment with the biggest smile plastered on your face and butterflies swarming in your stomach. Little did you know that they matched Gwilym’s.
summary: ben being a softie and saying i love you for the first time!!
word count: 697
warnings: swearing, unedited
this has been in my drafts for so long and i just wanted to get rid of it so... sorry for this it’s cheesy and weird sltgjrlkklfvlekjoiejgoie
“Not it.”
“Ben, you can’t say ‘not it’ when you’re getting ready to clean up your room. You have to at least help me.”
“Oh, so it’s suddenly my room when it’s time to clean, but the 5/7 days you sleep in my room it’s our room.”
A defeated smile crept onto your face as Ben walked past you. He plopped down in the chair in the corner of the room, smiling cheekily in your direction. You busied yourself with folding the clean laundry on the bed, humming the melody of whatever new catchy pop song was stuck in your head.
It was overcast outside; a less than perfect day filled with rain and the musty smell that comes with it. The humidity was horrible; the kind that instantly puffs up your hair and sticks to your skin like a bottle of glue.
You and Ben had worked to escape the shitty weather by resorting to an Original Disney Animated Movie Marathon (Ben made comments on how horrible the movies were, yet you swore you saw him get a little teary-eyed at the end of The Little Mermaid).
Now, after spending an entire day of binging the classic animated movies, you forced Ben off the couch to help you clean up the mess that is his room. There were dirty clothes on the floor, clean clothes on the floor, random packages of candy, and receipts from dinners Ben took you on covering almost every square inch of the room. It was a disaster.
“I didn’t even know you had this sweater... you should wear it more often,” you said absentmindedly, grabbing Ben’s attention from his phone.
“I didn’t know I had that sweater either. The more you know!”
You laughed loudly, throwing the sweater directly at Ben’s face. He threw it back, and you let it fly past you and land back on the floor.
“You know, this whole ‘cleaning’ thing would go a lot faster if you helped.”
“But you just do it so much better, baby. And you look cute doing it.”
You scowled at the blonde playfully, continuing what you were doing, “you’re so lucky you’re cute.” Ben stuck his tongue out at you as you grabbed the big laundry basket sitting on the floor.
You pulled out the clothes one at a time, folding them and placing them into piles according to where they went on the bed. As you went to grab one of your sports bras from the basket, you gasped at the sight of black polka-dot sock amongst the other clothes.
“Oh my god! I’ve been looking for this sock for ages... I lost it a few months ago.”
You rushed to the sock drawer and pulled out the matching sock, putting them together and holding them up in victory. After doing a few celebratory fist bumps, you put it back in the drawer and made your way back to the bed. You met Ben’s gaze, and he was gazing at you lovingly. You decided to ham it up a bit, for the audience of course.
“Whew, what a rush. Can’t believe I found that fucking sock! First of all, I’d like to thank the academy, my mom, my dad, my boyfriend who refuses to help me do anything in this godforsaken house-” you were saying, pretending to be choked up before you were interrupted.
“I love you.”
Your fake smile slowly faded and shock danced its way across your features. Did he really just? Are you hearing things? Why would he say it now?
The disbelief in your body slowly dissipated as you met Ben’s eyes again.
“Did you just say what I think you just said?” you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips.
“You don’t have to say it back or anything, I realized just how much I loved you during that stupid cheesy speech thing and-” Before Ben could finish his sentence, you were on his lap and pushing your lips to his in a frenzy. He was shocked and didn’t respond for a few moments, but slowly melted into the passionate kiss.
You pulled away, breathless, resting your foreheads together.
Please, Never Fall In Love Again || W.W.Y.I. Blurb
Pairing: Who Will You Imagine?
Words: 679
Warnings: Angst
Gender: Unspecified
Synopsis: It was supposed to be you two against the world. It was supposed to be good... but now it is time to move on, and you pray he won’t fall in love with anyone again.
Based of THIS SONG
He was the man of your dreams- from the moment you met in that silly little shop downtown and became friends, and then when he was there for you at your lowest point. From there a long relationship developed. One that blossomed so... beautifully. He was perfect for you and you were for him. You shared everything- to the point you practically lived at one another’s houses. It was the happiest you’d been in such a long time.
This was what it was like to be lovers.
There was never a day where you were sad around him that he wouldn’t cheer you up. You never liked to cry in front of him. You felt..... ugly when you did. But when you were feeling low, he’d whisk you up off the couch and dance with you, spinning you around the living room. By the end of the third song, you’d be smiling and laughing, embracing and kissing....
You wanted him there forever.
But lately things have been.... different. And not in a good way, like when you knew they were planning something. He called less when on press. He texted less. Left you on read.
Was he so busy he couldn’t make time for you? You wondered night after night.
Your friends kept saying he probably was, but it still felt so... off to you. It wasn’t like him. You tried to give him some space, knowing he had a lot on his plate lately, but it had been almost a week of him leaving you on read or going straight to voicemail that when you did receive a message you were over the moon. Thank god he was okay! Everything was good! You were so filled with joy as you opened it and read it-
...only to have your heart shattered into a million pieces the second you did.
...No, this had to be wrong. This had to be a joke. He couldn’t have met someone. He couldn’t leave you like this.
Not over text.
But he knew you hated when he saw you cry. And he would not want that to be the last thing he saw of you.
And the day came when he was supposed to be back in town. Maybe you could talk things out and put everything behind you. Everything could be good again Everything could go back to
normal.
You ran for your phone, hopping over furniture in the process. You didn’t even notice you knocked over a mug on the floor or papers falling as you flew by. Snatching your phone from the counter, you fumbled to unlock it and go to that oh so familiar contact of the man you loved so dearly. You caressed your phone as his beautiful eyes and charming smile stared back from the small screen. You smiled affectionately if not for a little tinge of pain that prodded your heart momentarily. As you were about to send a call, the doorbell rang. It caused you to jump out of your skin.
Could it be....?
You raced to the door. You opened it, expecting your love to be standing there, ready to accept you into his arms and tell you all was okay. Instead, you are greeted with a box on the ground and the sound of a car leaving your driveway. You looked and saw him in the driver’s seat. His gaze is fixed harshly on the rear-view mirror as he backed out and drive away. He knew you were there, but he wouldn’t dare look at you.
He couldn’t.
It hurt your heart more to see him leave without a word. Like a javelin through the chest. Still, you dared not cry.
That was it.... that was goodbye.
You brought the box back into your room and inside were your movies that were previously stockpiled at his place for when you stayed over and had a movie night.
You pray whoever it was he found. It won’t be forever. It won’t be like what you imagined you’d have with him.
i would love some soft ben // like maybe he has a bad day so you do baths , & face mask & all cute shit ;))whenever your taking request again ofc, love ur writing sooo much ❤️
Ah now I just want a soft!Ben of my own. Thanks for requesting!
“Bubs, can you please tell me what´s wrong?”, you asked, looking at your boyfriend with concern. You were sat crossed-legged on the couch next to him and his pouty mood. He had been like this all day, ever since he woke up. You had tried to get him to talk to you, but nothing seemed to help. Not even the pancakes you made for breakfast, or his favorite show on the tv, or you in his favorite shirt. He even turned down a morning blowjob, which was very unlike him.
“I´ve told you it´s nothing”, Ben mumbled, shooting you a half-smile. You could tell it was forced, causing you to frown.
“Ben”, you said, “I hate seeing you like this. Please just talk to me, my love”
You could see something flicker in Ben´s eyes, and you knew you were about to get to him. He just needed a little bigger push.
“Ok, if you´re not talking I´m at least going to make you feel better. Come on”, you said, reaching your hand out to him. Ben´s eyes fell on it, before he sighed and grabbed it. The feeling of your fingers intertwining with him made his stomach stir, and he couldn´t help but smile just a little bit.
You almost had to physically drag him to the bathroom, and that boy was heavy too. But, you were determined to stop his moping.
“Sit”, you said, pointing at the edge of the tub. You pulled out a bottle of micellar water, a cotton round and your favorite face mask. You were doing a proper pamper session whether he liked it or not.
Soaking the cotton in the micellar water, you looked over to see Ben´s eyes following your every move. His body was slumped over, his bottom lip sticking out just a little. God he was so cute.
You walked over and positioned yourself between his thighs, lifting his face with your finger. As you started to gently cleanse his face, you could feel his hands reach out to grab your thighs. He squeezed them slightly, before sliding them up and down. Making the butterflies in your stomach go into a frenzy.
“So now you want to get frisky?”, you asked, giggling at the feeling of his warm fingers against your skin.
“Mhm”, Ben mumbled, pulling you even closer. He buried his face into your stomach the second you were done with the cotton round, his hands sliding up to your ass.
“Let´s do this first, ok?”, you said. You opened the pot of face mask, watching Ben´s face screw up. “I promise you will like it, Ben”
“Ok, but I´m going to get you out of these clothes one way or another”, he said, a genuine smile finally pulling at his lips.
You giggled and started spreading the face mask over his forehead, his cheeks, over his nose. Ben sat perfectly still the entire time, only his hands occasionally squeezing your ass.
“All done”, you said proudly, walking away to wash your hands. Ben whined at the loss of contact. “Take you clothes off”.
Yep, that got his attention.
“Now we´re talking”, he said, eagerly standing up and tugging at his shirt. Most of your self-control had to be used when you saw his perfectly muscular body being revealed. The slight trail of hair leading into his joggers enough to make your mouth water.
“Don´t get too excited. You, my love, are taking a nice and relaxing bath”, you giggled, leaning over to turn the tap on. You sprinkled in your favorite bath salt that smelled like lavender.
“Can you join me?”, Ben asked, looking at you with those puppy-dog eyes that made your heart melt. “Please?”
“Fine, but no funny business”, you warned, before starting to pull of your own clothes. You could feel Ben´s eyes on your skin as you both finished undressing, his mopey face slowly but surely lighting up.
“I´m not promising anything, love”, Ben said. He climbed into the tub, sighing when the warm bathwater engulfed his body. He looked so peaceful like this and you almost wanted to let him enjoy it on his own, but he reached his hand out to you. And he gave you the sweetest, neediest, smile you´ve ever seen, rendering you unable to resist climbing in and settling into his chest. Ben´s arms snaked around your waist, his lips finding the base of your neck. You sighed and closed your eyes, just enjoying your naked bodies resting against each other.
“Do you feel better?”, you asked after a while. Ben had started to trace his fingers over your stomach, your hips, your thighs, signaling a lift in his mood.
“Yes”, he said against your skin. His breath hot.
“Do you want to tell me what´s on your mind then?”, you said, testing the waters. You could feel Ben sigh behind you.
“I didn´t get that part you helped me run lines for. It´s so stupid. It was a tiny role, but I just feel like a failure”, he finally confessed.
You turned around to face him, laying on your stomach between his thighs. Thankfully, you had a big tub.
“It´s not stupid, Ben. You wanted that role and they suck for not giving it to you. You´re so talented. You know you are too. Everyone in your life knows it. They were probably just going for a different type”, you said with furrowed eyebrows. Ben really was amazing, and you hated that he didn´t see that.
“You´re probably right”, he mumbled.
“You know I am, my love”, you teased, leaning up to press your lips to his. Ben let out a soft moan and grabbed your face, pressing his tongue into your mouth. It wasn´t rushed or frantic, it was slow and romantic. Just what he needed. What you both needed.
“I love you so much, Y/N. You have no idea”, Ben whispered against your lips as he pulled away. “I´m so lucky to have you in my life”
“I love you more, Ben”, you giggled. You pressed your lips to his again, feeling his excitement against your lower stomach.
“How about we move this party to the bed, yeah?”, Ben asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Yep. He was definitely in a better move now. You didn´t even manage to get him to wash his face before he was all over you, both of ending the night in a mess of sweaty limbs, the sheets stained green from the face mask.
A/N: Hi! So, here is chapter one to my Ben Hardy AU Fanfic! There are currently several chapters written, which you can find on Wattpad, but I’ve decided to also upload it here as well. It might be a bit behind, but you’ll still get all the chaps eventually.
What it is: basically, a girl from a small town who is bored of her life decides to take a trip to Nice where she runs into ben, who is also running away from some shit and some romance ensues.
Word count: 3.0k
in this chapter: she takes off bby
WATTPAD LINK IF YOU WANT TO READ AHEAD
Spotify playlist
In case you missed it: prologue
here we go:
chapter one
Tonight was my last night at work; I had been working doubles all week, trying to make as much money as I could to build up my almost non-existent cushion. Between what I had in my savings and my bonds, I had almost $10,000, but then I went shopping and was now sitting at about $8,000, which after the cost of everything, wasn’t much.
I was in the middle of putting in order an for an older couple when Katie, one of my coworkers, came barreling into the service station.
“I still cannot believe you’re going to France! Again! Meanwhile, I’m stuck here, seven months pregnant, having never been anywhere!” She threw her hands up and her blond hair flew around her small face. She was older, and shorter, married to her first boyfriend and in the middle of her nursing degree. Whenever I talked about where I’ve been, she always looked at me with amazement, telling me how lucky I was, how she could only dream of traveling anywhere. I always had to remind her that she could and that she should, but she always shook her head as if it would never be an option. “Are you all packed?”
I cringed, “No; I’m not prepared at all, actually. Three weeks goes by a lot quicker than I thought it would.”
“Well, you’re out of here in less than an hour. You better go straight home and get your shit together.” She patted me on the back before nudging me over to gain access to the small touch screen where we put in the orders.
I looked at the floor from our little alcove; for a Sunday, we were pretty packed. There was only one table left open when half of the restaurant was usually empty at this time. I surveyed my section: an old couple, a group of twenty-somethings, a family of six, a couple of teenagers, and one sole older woman. They were all almost ready for their checks, and I silently prayed that they were all feeling generous—and that they all carried cash. I decided it was time to turn on the charm; I flipped my head over, fixed my long brown hair into a high pony-tail, making sure my curtain bangs weren’t swept up, retouched my light pink lipstick and shoved a smile on my face. I was about to walk back out into the dimly lit dining room when Katie grabbed my arm.
“I just want to let you know that I told all of them you’re leaving for a big trip tomorrow and wouldn’t be working for a while. You know, trying to let them know you’re poor and could use the money,” she laughed.
I shook my head and smiled, “I hope it worked.”
****
Katie did a great job. I walked into the house, counting my tips for the third time to make sure the number was right. I made way more than I expected to and added it to the envelope of cash I needed to deposit into my bank account before heading to the airport tomorrow. I ordered euros and also notified my bank I was traveling abroad, making sure I was covered on both fronts. I called a quick “hello” to my mom and my two brothers who were sat on the couch watching Food Network and ran up the stairs, very aware that it was already 10pm and I needed to leave for the airport at 10am, so I would have time to run the errands I needed to beforehand.
After taking a quick shower, I sat myself down on my bedroom floor, piles of clothes around me and two empty suitcases on my bed. I had already collected my toiletries, shoved them into two ziplock bags and then inside a fabric toiletry bag to ensure zero leakage, right after getting out of the shower because I was terrified of forgetting something. I made an extremely thorough list of every outfit, every bathing suit, every pair of underwear, every book (yes, book), every piece of makeup, and the two notebooks and five specific pens I would be taking with me. Again, making sure I didn’t forget anything. I packed it all one by one, drawing a line through it on my list in red ink until everything was away and ready to go. I was sweating—my cheeks were flush, my heart racing, and slightly out of breath from running around my room lugging items back and forth.
I was laid out, spread-eagle, on my bedroom floor, watching my ceiling fan spin around and around when my mom came in and leaned against the doorway. “I see you’re all packed up and ready to go.”
“I think so. I hope so. I don’t know, I feel like I’m forgetting something.” I sat up and leaned back on my hands, my head turned around to face her.
She tossed me a bag of five disposable cameras, “These. Don’t take your big camera. It’s too heavy and you already almost lost it once in London. That thing is an antique, best to leave it here.” She nodded towards my grandpa’s old Nikon film camera from the ‘80s. He gave it to me right before I left for London and had almost every picture I took there with it hung up on his walls.
I tossed them into my second suitcase that was still half empty before getting up. I wrung my hands together in front of me and pulled at the strings of my hoodie, “I’m kind of nervous.”
My mom came further into my room before putting her hands on my shoulders. “Look at me,” her brown eyes looked directly into mine, our faces almost identical, “You’ve done this before. You’re going to be fine. You can always call, or come home.” She laughed lightly before dropping her hands, “Do you need me to keep going? Because you’ve heard this speech before.”
“No, I’m good.” I pulled on my pony tail to tighten it and rubbed at my eyes with the heels of my palms. “Ugh, I don’t know why I’m so stressed out! It’s ridiculous!”
“You know what you’re dad would say—“
“It doesn’t matter what he would say.” I cut her off and dropped my hands to my sides. “He’s not here.”
“Josie, we need—“
“You’re right, mom. I’ve done this before—successfully. I was fine the first time around, and that was for six months. Three weeks is nothing. Thank you for the pep talk, I needed it.”
She grabbed at my hair, twirling the thick ponytail around her fingers, “You’re going to have an amazing time.”
“I know,” I sighed and pulled her into a hug, trying to fight off tears without sniffling.
“I love you.”
“Love you more.”
This morning was not going well—at all. First, I woke up to a phone call from Liam, my on and off again boyfriend of two long years. He was angry that I didn’t tell him about my trip and felt he was entitled to know of my whereabouts despite the fact that we were currently “off” and have been for the past two months.
“Don’t go, Josie.” He pleaded.
“I’m going. I’m literally leaving for the airport in an hour. How did you even know I was going?”
“The last time you did something like this you broke up with me.”
“Tried to,” I corrected him, “but you wouldn’t let me.”
“And now you’re going to go back to Europe and try to do it again! You’re going to hurt me again, just when I was ready to get back together!”
I let out an irritated sigh, “Liam, I’m not doing this again. I’m not doing this anymore. I’ve been completely fine the last few weeks without you and I don’t need you. I’m going and I need you to leave me alone.” I ended the call as he began to reply. I couldn’t deal with him right now and I wasn’t going to let him ruin another trip for me.
We met in my gen. ed. philosophy class sophomore year and have had a stressful relationship ever since. We pretty much broke up every summer and every break, making it more of a relationship of convenience and comfort. I figured that when I was leaving for my exchange program last year that we would break up, but when I tried to talk to him about it he broke down crying about how I was the love of his life and he didn’t want to be apart while I was away and I caved. I tried again halfway through my time there, but he guilted me into staying; he said it wasn’t fair to break up with someone who you haven’t seen in months, and how could I know I didn’t love him anymore when we had been apart for so long.
When I came home, I was so adamant about ending it, but then dad was gone and I needed the familiarity, the easiness, the comfort again and now we were stuck in our old cycle that I needed to desperately get away from.
Second, I got another rejection e-mail from another publishing company—granted this rejection came a month late since internships had already started and I knew I was obviously not getting a spot, but it didn’t mean I didn’t feel the blow to my ego.
I didn’t regret my choice of becoming a writing major—at all—it’s what made me happy and it also came with so many career choices; I chose to be an editor, or was trying to anyway, but publishing is competitive and I had zero connections, so every spring, summer, fall, and winter, all I got were rejections and I was growing tired of the disappointment.
But I was leaving today and couldn’t let anything get me down—I just couldn’t. After I showered and threw on a white t-shirt and a pair of blue straight leg jeans, I started getting last minute items in order: my carryon, with emergency clothes (my luggage has gone missing before), my notebook, my camera, headphones, locket, passport, phone charger, etc. Once everything was completely packed, I sat on my bedroom floor, knees pulled up to my chest and simply stared at the pile of luggage before me.
I was overwhelmed; I could feel the knot in my stomach twisting, the dryness in my throat, and the tears that were locked behind my eyes. For the past three weeks, this trip seemed so abstract, so far away it couldn’t be real—but now I had no choice but to acknowledge how very real it was.
As I put on my tan blazer, my white sneakers, packed my stuff into the car with my mom, went to the bank, and drove to the airport, my brother’s asking me loads of questions from the backseat, all I could think was that I would be fine. I had to keep reminding myself that I’ve done this before, that I could handle myself and that I knew what I was doing. By time we made it to JFK, I felt so stupid; I was making such a big deal over nothing. It was just a trip—but my anxiety would not let up.
“I know that look on your face,” my mom said as we stood in front of security. “You need to stop with the stress. You’re going to ruin this for yourself.”
“Yeah,” I let out a breath it felt like I’d been holding since I woke up this morning, “I know.” I looked at the time. “I think I need to go.”
My mom pulled me into a hug and kissed me on the cheek before giving me one last secret pep talk and telling me she loved me. I hugged Noah and ignored his comments about the contagious promiscuity of the French. My youngest brother, Oliver hugged me the tightest, “Be careful, okay? You’re the only sister I have so don’t do anything stupid while you’re over there.”
“It’s just three weeks, it’ll be like I never even left.”
“That’s three weeks of torture from Noah without you there to back me up! I might not even be alive by time you get back!”
I laughed lightly and pulled him in for another hug. Despite the six year age difference, we were extremely close and I knew I would miss him the most during my trip. After saying goodbye for a second time, I got on line for security.
It didn’t take too long to get through; for once, my carryon didn’t need to be rifled through because I actually packed correctly this time around and my gate was only a few minutes walk away. I took a seat close to the podium so I could hear every announcement clearly and pulled out my phone and started replying to texts from my friends telling me to have a great time.
Despite spending a lot of time in the city, I spent a lot of time alone. Between classes, homework, and working I didn’t have a lot of time for a social life, but I did have one—a small one, but it still counted. I only had a few friends and I was fine with that, I didn’t need a big group—the only problem was two of my friends lived in the city permanently, two lived out of state and my best friend from home went to school way upstate, like twenty minutes away from Canada upstate, so we didn’t see each other often.
After replying, I pulled up both of my boarding passes on my phone. I had layover in London and kept reading over the time in between flights, worried if my first one got delayed, worried if they were on opposite sides of the airport. There was always so much that could go wrong. What if I somehow went to the wrong gate? What if my gate was changed and I missed it? Inside, I knew I was too much of a control freak and worry-wart to allow any of these things to happen, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t obsessively think about them and give myself a headache.
Finally, my flight started boarding and thankfully, I was in the first group. I found my aisle seat and plopped down after placing my duffel bag in the overhead bin and tossing my purse under the seat in front of me. After another thirty minutes of everyone getting on, having to get up twice to let the other people in my row in (thankfully no children, just a middle-aged couple), we were finally ready to take off. I popped some gum into my mouth, pulled my seat belt tighter and leaned back hoping I wouldn’t get the rollercoaster feeling in my stomach that often happened during take-offs.
The seven hours to London was easy, it was the layover that was tough. Three hours of sitting around waiting for my second flight, exhausted and just wanting to be there already. It’s crazy how easily a long layover can break a person. I called my mom, letting her know my first flight was a success and then tried to text my friends but they were all out partying despite it being a Monday. I ended up settling for finishing my book, which wasn’t necessarily travel material—it was slightly dark and deep, as a Morrison usually is.
By time my final flight was called, I was over the entire ordeal and in an awful mood. I was waiting for my group to be called when some guy tapped me on the shoulder, “Please tell me this is the flight to Nice.” He was American, looked around my age, early twenties, with brown hair and green eyes. He was tall and slim and so out of breath. I nodded. “Thank god,” he said, “my first flight was delayed. I was worried I missed it.”
“Well, you didn’t.”
“You’re American!” he smiled and pointed a finger at me.
“Yes, you’re very observant.” The last group was called and I went to get on line, the guy trailing behind me.
“I’m Eric,” he said while holding his hand out for a shake, “I’m going to visit family.”
I stared at his outstretched hand before deciding it wouldn’t kill me to be polite, “That’s nice. I’m Josie.”
I turned away and handed both my passport and my phone to the attendant before making my way through the jetway. My seat was all the way at the back of the plane and so there was a lot of stopping and waiting for people to situate themselves before I could take my, yet again, aisle seat. I leaned forward with my head in my hands and started rubbing my temples. It was 8:30 am London time, meaning my body should be asleep. All I needed was these next two hours for a power nap, that’s all, because I refused to spend my first day in Nice unconscious.
“Wow, what are the odds!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumbled under my breath without looking up.
“You’re an aisle-seater too, huh? I can’t sit in any other seat. It gets too cramped and I have long legs so I need the aisle space.”
They announced we would be getting ready to take-off and I noticed that no one had sat next to me and took the opportunity to slide over, putting as much distance between me and enthusiastic Eric as I possibly could.
I tried to sleep, I really did, but every few minutes, just as I was about to finally doze off, Eric would ask another question: “Where are you staying?” “What brings you to Nice?” “Are you alone?” “Where are you from?” My only response was that I didn’t feel comfortable sharing that kind of information with a stranger but he wouldn’t take the hint. Instead, he took my non-interest as an opportunity to ask for my contact information so we could possibly “grab a coffee or a bite or whatever”. I told him that I didn’t give my information out to strangers again and so he carefully wrote his number and instagram handle out on a paper napkin and held it out to me.
I took it, unenthusiastically and politely smiled. I shoved it into my purse just as the flight attendant announced we were getting ready to land. A few short moments later, her voice rang out over the loud speaker, “Welcome to Nice!”
