British comedian oneshots

My worst enemy (james acaster x you(yes you))

You slump through the front door of your house after a long, hard day of doing the bare minimum, almost too tired to remember to pick up the keys wedged in the keyhole and lazily plop them into a trinket bowl. A sigh grows in your lungs and is released with a relaxed smile on your face. The halls sound suspiciously silent given that James had been planning on cooking at around this time (a rare thing that usually ended in tears, takeaways, shouting, and a strange smokey smell that wouldn't leave the kitchen for a few days at least.) You lollop through the corridors- still lazily, of course, but with a little more worry in your mind than before.

Cautiously, your head peeks around the kitchen doorway. You hold back a giggle at the sight of James curled up with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth on the cold tiled floor. A familiar plastic case sits on the counter top, labelled with the familiar cover of Mitski's Puberty 2. It is, of course, empty. The noises of Thursday Girl blare from the CD player, and you notice the mangled cabbage beside it.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, half sorry, half amused. "Shit. James, I'm so sorry," He foams at the mouth as he turns his pasty face towards you. He doesn't say a word, but instead, raises his bony index at the cabbage and weeps. Slowly, (so not to startle him like a mouse in a national geographic documentary) you sit yourself down on the floor and cuddle him as best as possible, wrapping your arms around him softly. He reciprocates by placing his face in the crook of your neck and pulling you impossibly closer to him. Cosy and soft; his corduroy trousers brush your thighs as he wraps his legs around you, providing sweet comfort and warmth. Being held tighter felt impossible- James clung onto you like a wet shirt and wouldn't let you go for anything. You smother him with as much affection as you can, making sure he keeps his head firmly on your shoulder (if he sees the cabbage or clearly hears the music again he will start to cry, and that's the last thing either of you need.)

After a while, the CD stops and whirrs, and you manage to pry James off you, swiftly shoving the cabbage in the bin before he could notice.

"I'm gonna frig him up," he says after a pause, "I'm gonna frig the prick up, y/n"

"He's a child, James."

"I don't care"

"You should care. You can't just go around fucking up every child who posts a cabbage through the door"

"Who says?"

"Morals? The police?"

"I'll frig them up too."

"James," You sigh. "Stop it."

He huffs and props himself up on the counter, dangling his legs and slouching to show his annoyance at your comments. His eyes are puffy and red and his hair is messy and ruffled- he confuses you a lot of the time, but hes endearing really. Irresistibly endearing. You prop yourself up on the counter next to him, and he hesitantly rests his head on your shoulder again whilst you twirl your fingers through his strawberry locks. He snakes his arms around your waist as he lies down on the counter, resting his head on your thighs (his favourite pillow). You trace your fingers across his face, drawing words and hearts with your fingertip on his cheeks as his eyes droop. The peaceful silence of the evening is interrupted by James' stomach growling- dinner had been put off for hours now and the hunger had caught up with you both. His eyes open wide to look at you, so you give him a sweet smile whilst rubbing your thumb across his knuckles.

"
James?"

"Mhm?"

"Takeaway?"

haha soz this is so shite