That Rottah Freddie

ou I actually just wrote 42 for BxRxR, so I’ll do 45 for Ben :) Enjoy!

A little moodboard I made for tonight’s Valentine’s Day Special… ;) This isn’t really a blurb oops

“Use your words.”   (if you haven’t clued in by now, there’s smut, so you’ve been warned! xx)

Ben had surprised you with a lavish hotel splurge for some assured alone time to celebrate Valentine’s Day. You shared an apartment, but he wanted to treat you to a perfect day paired with a bed that doesn’t creak when you rock it, so he insisted you wake up in a fresh room and start it off right.

You woke up to a bouquet of red and pink roses leaning on a chair beside the closet door, where two enclosed sheet cases of new additions hung. One was tagged “for dinner tonight…”, the other: “for dessert;) no peeking”.  Cheeky boy.

The scent of bacon carried you out to the small hallway, lined with more petals, and into the kitchen where Ben was in nothing but sweatpants loosely draped around his hips as he avoided splashes of oil spattering about the hot pan.

You walked up behind him, placing a warm kiss on his shoulder as you reached to turn down the heat dial on the stove to halt the splattering.

“Good morning, my love. Did you like your flowers?” He turned his head to kiss the top of your hair.

“They’re perfect.” You inhaled the fresh smell the roses exhumed. “Just like you.” You bit your lip before turning to fill up a glass vase for them, Ben pinching your bum as you did so.

“I need somewhere to stay”

It was Valentine’s Day and you had just had the worst day at work, and that’s putting it lightly. Your boss picked today to subject everything to a perfection detector and nothing you did was sufficient. You worked at a florist shop and business was crazy. A new-hire screwed up in inventory and now you had run out of red roses and chocolates before evening dinner celebrations began, but you got blamed since she was your trainee.

You fell asleep in your cab during rush hour and your driver took the highway through a traffic jam. When you exited the cab you were too drowsy and disgusted by his comments on your cleavage he had been eyeing to notice you left your purse in the backseat after slapping some bills in his sweaty palm.

You had to throw pebbles at your neighbors balcony windows to get someone to let you in, your phone being abandoned with your keys in the cab. You initially aimed for the nicest tenants windows but everyone was still working except for the old retired lady that often filed noise complaints against everyone else. 

The woman reluctantly hobbled down and let you into the complex, but of course, not without scolding you for interrupting her soap opera and some snide comments about your skirt length and the colour washing you out.

“You’re never going to find a man looking like that, deary. ‘Very sad excuse for a woman, the way you dress, you know.” You forced a laugh as she tapped your bum with her cane.

“Who needs ‘em.”

“That’s what a sad, single woman says on this holiday.” She dismissed, closing her front door behind her.

“And where’s your prince charming, bat?” You rolled your eyes to yourself.