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girlmeetsliv3 · 4 years ago

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Cruel Liaisons

~~ Previously Lingerlust ~~

A/B/O!MiniMoni x Reader; Poly BTS

“When one strikes the heart of another they seldom miss, and the wound is invariably fatal.”

Release Date: May 7th, 2021 @ 12:15 p.m. (GMT-5)

Apologies for the late update. Hope you enjoy it.

Trigger Warnings: blood and gore.

February 2nd, 2022

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Jeon YN.” YN stared at the recording machine in front of her, it looked antiquated like the type that wasn’t automatically connected to a cloud or storage system. “Those types have to be manually saved. Which can come in handy.” The officer’s cleared their throats, drawing back YN’s attention. What were their names again? “We need you to state your sub-gender as well.” The one on the left spoke lowly, his voice coming out a bit tense and nervous. “Beta.” When YN tried to smell them, she noticed both were wearing scent blockers, though her sense of smell was never her strong suit.

“This is officer Park Sooyoung and officer Kim Jisoo.” The taller one stated, her tone dull, as if she rather be anywhere else. Judging by the bags under her eyes and the large cup of coffee in front of her – a bed seemed to be her choice. Officer Kim reached to the ground and placed a file on the desk, she opened it to reveal a series of photographs; five to be precise. Males and females from around a same age group are placed with one female in the center, she looks strangely familiar to YN. The rounded tip of her nose and arched brows but she can’t quite place the face. There is someone YN does recognize though, a face she saw just a few days ago.

“Anyone you recognize?” Officer Kim asks, her tone is serious but airy. The smile on her face after every sentence lets YN know that she’s the ‘good cop.’

YN points at the second photo from the left, “Him. I saw him in a missing persons ad on the news, but he didn’t look this old.” They had likely picked a picture from when he was younger, the man on the news held a bright smile. His jawline sharp and his cheekbones high but not defined. The man in the photograph in front of her had a pronounced jawline, hollow cheeks, and an ugly scowl that did nothing to mar his features. ‘K.T’ read the bottom.

“What news channel and around what time?”

“KBS, maybe late evening. I watch it before I go to sleep.”

Both officers nod, as Park shifts around on her seat. Now facing directly at YN, resting both elbows on the metal table. “Are you aware of the reason you were brought into the station today?” Officer Kim jumps in before YN can answer, “Just so you know you aren’t being charged with anything.”

Yes. “No, I don’t know.” She shrugged, keeping her eyes level and gaze neither too intense nor too bored.

“You’re here due to your affiliation with Alpha’s Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin,” Park spoke, “They’re your employers, correct?” There was an edge to her voice that YN recognized. Many people weren’t fond of them – many had a reason not to be.

“Yes.” YN nods.

“How long have you worked for them?” Kim asks.

YN notes how neither women are writing anything down, nor looking towards the one-sided mirror behind them. Are they perhaps recording this with a second device? If that’s the case it's not just her voice YN must be cautious of, but her expressions as well. “Around nine months, I’m their housekeeper and take care of Hyunwoo.” After a bit of silence from the police, she elaborates more, “I cook, clean, and help the child with his homework.”

“That’s quite a lot for just one person. Especially considering you have little background in those areas before you were hired, correct?”

They’re trying to bait me. “I’m used to doing those things at home.” YN shrugs, she can see the growing frown on Park’s features.

“How exactly did you hear about the job?” Kim leans forward, but one of her hands drops below the table. Park’s eyes dart over to her partner for a second, but YN catches it. Kim likely gave her a signal or something like a reassuring squeeze, YN hopes it’s the latter. “What was the hiring process like?”

“From an acquaintance Dr. Sihyuk.” Both officers nod along, they don’t seem to recognize the name. “Bang’s dead. Unlikely anyone will find something there.” They always knew to cover their bases. “Um, normal, I guess. I sent in an application and then had an interview.”

“You made a lot of money as the Kim’s housekeeper. Did you never ask yourself where that money was coming from?” It seemed the officers were done trying to be subtle.

“No, it wasn’t my place. Plus, most of the money I earned went into paying family debts.”

“Do you know Kim Namjoon’s or Park Jimin’s source of income?”

“Again no. I just did what I was supposed to do.”

“You never thought to ask?”

“No.”

Sooyoung smirks, “Interesting how everyone around the Kim’s just accepts things at face value. Their co-workers, drivers, bodyguards, even their housekeeper just does what their told. You weren’t even a little bit curious as to how they could possibly afford the lifestyle they have?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” YN’s arms were clenching around the chair, trying to hold herself back from reacting negatively to the hassling.

“But we aren’t cats.” Sooyoung remarks and for a second YN feels like she’s lost a battle. Jisoo points to the picture in the center, it's a beautiful young woman with flowy hair and a bright smile. Her delicate features give away her omega nature. Though the closer YN inspects the picture, they’re bags under her eyes, permanent frown lines etched onto her face, a hollowness to her eyes. She looks somewhere between life and death. “Do you recognize this woman? You lingered on her a bit longer than the rest of them.”

The longer YN stares at her the more she starts to piece things together, but it still feels like she’s missing something. So she gives a generic answer. “She looks kind of familiar. Has that kind of face.”

“What kind of face?” Jisoo questions.

“Like…pretty, popular, all over billboards kind of face.”

It's enough to satisfy them for now. They slowly start removing all the pictures while leaving only the woman’s, the longer YN sees it the more unnerved she becomes. Her head begins to hurt as another migraine begins to pound at her temples. Creating a sort of hazy fog over YN’s mind. Both officers’ then hold up the picture and flip it revealing a picture of the same woman holding a young child wrapped in blankets. She looks so much happier, so full of life. Instantly YN places her, recognizing the toddler wrapped in blue velvet.

“This is Hyunwoo’s mother. The last time anyone saw her alive was three weeks ago when she just so happened to be having dinner with your employers.” Fuck.

Present

YN’s phone dings as another text from Mark appears on her screen: ‘boss wants to know when you’ll start paying?’ She groans exhaustedly, responding with ‘I have been paying. He gets half my salary every week.’ Which hasn’t made living very comfortable for YN, but she makes do with what she can.

Mark: It’s not enough princess, not with the way daddy’s been spending money.

Me: What am I supposed to do if you keep giving him money?!

Mark: That’s not up to me. So, the money?

Me: I’m looking for a second job. One that pays better.

Mark: Just go sell your eggs or something. Not like you have any use for them.

“Asshole.” YN muttered, muting her notifications. She looked up to the entrance of the fertility clinic debating whether or not to go in. It wasn’t like she had much of an option; she needed the money and fertility clinics were the only ones willing to provide big sums of money fast. Not to mention she had missed a day of work to make the appointment, which meant less money to give to Mark. I hate this. I hate this so much. YN was about to walk away, leave everything when she spotted a black BMW parked on the curve. Its driver observing her intensely. She knew what it meant.

Mark was getting pushy. Meaning his boss was getting pushy and YN didn’t need to be on the bad side of some loan shark – not again. So, she mustered up the courage and opened the glass doors, being hit with the smell of lavender and pheromones. It reeks. Nonetheless, she forced a smile on her face and walked towards the front desk. “Hello, I have an appointment with Dr. Sihyuk.”

“Unfortunately, there is a limit to how many eggs we can safely remove from you. Betas aren’t like omegas, you have a set number of eggs. Removing the majority of them would leave you infertile. We’d also be unsure of whether the eggs are useful or not without running the proper examinations which can take weeks.” Dr. Sihyuk explained as he went over YN’s medical file, each sentence uttered destroying her hope little by little.

“I understand but I am quite fertile. I carry a recessive gene from my father who is an omega. Not to mention I’m not interested in having children so I would have no use for my eggs,” she could sense the doctor’s hesitation, “unlike someone who might benefit from them.” I just really need the money.

“Oh, I know, you betas are lucky in that sense. Don’t have to worry about population growth.” Though it was said jokingly it still made YN uncomfortable, let her know he wasn’t buying her bullshit. The doctor closed the file, “Why exactly are you interested in donating your eggs? Is it for the money?” He saw right through her. At her silence the doctor sighs, “We get one of you every once in a while. Always wrapped up in some business started by a family member or mistakes you’ve made.” Sihyuk opens a file cabinet beside him and shoves her file in there, “Unfortunately for you there’s no market for beta eggs.”

YN sags exhaustion and fear taking over her, “I –” Sihyuk takes a small white business card out of the cabinet holding it out towards her. “Fortunately for you, I happen to know someone hiring. They specified only betas applied.” Hesitantly YN takes the card, “What kind of job?” Though she knows one should never look a gift horse in the mouth it feels to good to be true. “A housekeeper for an alpha couple. They’re long-time associates of mine. Give them a call you won’t regret it.”

Evening of June 20th, 2021

Hyunwoo wouldn’t stop crying. YN truly regretted feeding him chocolate before bed, he had nightmares that had not let the three-year-old rest. Though YN had time and time again reassured them there were no monsters under his bed or strange men coming to take him at night, he wouldn’t hear of it. Insisted she had stayed in bed with him and when that didn’t work cried out for his daddies. The issue being his daddies were currently busy, in the middle of their ruts with their weekly guests. Thankfully, their bedroom was across the apartment from Hyunwoo’s, or else she’d have to explain to the child that the screams being heard didn’t belong to ghost.

“I want papa! I want daddy!” Hyunwoo shrieked, snot and tears dribbling down his face. At this rate, he’d get himself sick if he didn’t permanently injure his vocal cords – or her hearing.

“I know. I know, but they’re busy right now. I can go get them later.” When their guests are gone and they’ve cleaned their bedroom. YN never quite knew how they manage to sneak them out and clean up so fast, but she didn’t question it. Less work for me.

“NO! I want them now!” Hyunwoo bolted towards the door, his little legs running as fast as they could. Though they couldn’t compare to YN’s.

She hugged the toddler, “Alright. I’ll go get your daddies but you have to promise me you’ll wait in bed.” Hyunwoo began to shake his head, “Come on Woowoo, imagine what they’ll say if they hear you threw a tantrum. What would daddies say?”

That seemed to sober him up a bit, “They would be disappointed.”

“Exactly,” YN led him back to bed, gently tucking him in. “I’ll be right back with them soon, okay?”

The hallway felt eerily long as YN struggled with how to politely interrupt without being subjected to the alpha’s rages. Ruts were an especially tricky time and there would be very little she could do to protect herself if it took a turn for the worse. Not to mention she was breaking one of the very few rules set by them: no bothering us after nine pm. YN glanced at her watch, it was currently 11:43 pm. I am so going to lose my job. But Hyunwoo needed his parents, and she didn’t want to risk the toddler running into their bedroom and being witness to something that would certainly cause trauma. Not to mention I might get sent his therapy bills. More debt. YN reached their bedroom doors. A light red hue leaking from the bottom, she willed all her courage and knocked.

“Come in, darling.” Jimin spoke, his dulcet tone sounding a little rougher than normal. Surprisingly the door was unlocked, so YN opened it. At first, she saw nothing out of the ordinary, just Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin laying in their bed. The red silk sheets, she so often had to wash, concealing their more intimate parts. It wasn’t until YN noticed the stains covering their bodies and the walls. It caused her eyes to dance around the room until she landed on what had caused such a mess: the two dismembered bodies lying on the floor. The red lighting of the room serving to conceal what the stains truly were: blood.

Namjoon beckoned her inside with a wave of his hand and YN felt obliged to obey. She could still smell the pheromones in their air, still feel their rut. Not to mention, Hyunwoo might have been following her. She locked the door behind her.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Namjoon spoke, smirking and showing off his blood-stained pearly teeth.

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drmmyrs · 4 years ago

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The Way I Loved You (Poppy x MC)

Soo bear with me since I think this might be a long series. This part is mostly just establishing the story so there is little to no fluff yet.

But stiiill, let me know what you guys think and I’d really appreciate feedback/constructive criticism. Hope you enjoy and if not, thanks for reading anyways :))

tag list: @whackawriting @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @uselesslesbianfr (ithis is my taglist I thiiink, but if you wanna be added or removed just let me know)

Pairing: Poppy x MC (Bea)

Word Count: 1650

Warning: Little swearing (at least for this part)

A/N: This is from the part before Poppy and MC were paired for a project

Bea had been at Belvoire for two months now, but she still wasn't used to waking up on a queen-sized canopy bed fitted with luxe sateen sheets in a bedroom which probably cost more than her family's house back at Farmsville. She glanced at the clock–11:30 am. She still had some time to spare before her first class. How people managed to wake up early on this luxurious bed made of clouds, she didn't know.

After a few more minutes of daydreaming, Bea begrudgingly pulled herself out of bed. She was preparing her outfit when the smell of heaven wafted through the bedroom door–bacon and pancakes. Like some kind of puppet on strings, Bea let herself be led by the delicious aroma to the kitchen where Zoey was expertly pouring pancake batter on a pan.

"I didn't know I was roommates with a master chef," Bea jested.

Zoey turned around at Bea's voice, and as she saw her, a smirk crawled up her lips.

"Well, don't you look sexy." Zoey eyed Bea up and down with an amused look on her face.

Bea glanced down at her outfit and saw that she was still in her pajamas. "Whatever Zo, not everyone can rock designer outfits even in bed."

"Hey, I'm not complaining. Besides, Spongebob PJs do have a certain charm."

Bea rolled her eyes while smiling. "So, what are we having for breakfast?"

"I'm pretty sure it's lunch. And aren't you supposed to be in class, like, right about now?"

"Nah, my Tuesday classes aren't until one o'clock."

Zoey stared at Bea. "Babe, it's Wednesday."

Bea's eyes widened at Zoey's words. "No, no, no, Professor Roberta is gonna kill me."

Bea rushed to her room and hastily changed her clothes faster than she thought was possible. She contemplated going to class au naturel, but ultimately decided against it. Bea was not ugly by any means without makeup, but in a sea of extremely contoured cheeks and false eyelashes, having no makeup was basically social suicide, especially since Poppy was in that class. Ugh, great. Of course, I'm late to the only class I have with Poppy.

When Bea thought she was presentable enough, she sprinted out the door but not before grabbing a handful of pancakes and shoving it to her mouth, looking like a chipmunk in the process. The T is gonna have a field day if someone saw me like this. Bea slowed her sprint to a stride as she swallowed the last of the pancakes.

Bea arrived in class forty-five minutes late.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Professor Roberta said in disdain.

"Sorry Professor, won't happen again."

"I'm sure it won't. And since you decided to join us so late, you're gonna have to work with Ms. Min-Sinclair over here for your community service project."

Oh hell no.

Sure enough, Poppy was sitting alone, glaring at her, and Bea could almost swear she could see smoke coming out of her nose.

Bea hesitantly sat down beside Poppy.

"Look Poppy, let's be civil about this and finish this project fast so we–"

"We're not going to do anything, Farmsville. I will ace this project and you will stay out of my damn way."

"Like hell I'm gonna let you take all the credit."

"Is there a problem here?" The professor glowered at Poppy and Bea.

"None professor, we were just calmly discussing the details of the project," Poppy responded with a fake smile.

Bea rolled her eyes. Kiss ass.

Once the professor was out of earshot, Poppy sharply turned to Bea. "Be ready on Friday, we're going to a foster home in Middletown."

"Middletown? But that's like an hour away!"

"I don't see you coming up with better ideas," Poppy hissed.

"I–I–"

"I thought so. Do not be late, Farmsville. I don't want you taking more of my time than you already do," Poppy said with a glare before she grabbed her Chanel purse and strode away.

***

Back at her dorm, Bea was resting her head on her hands on the dining table when Zoey arrived.

Upon seeing Bea, Zoey immediately took a seat beside her and placed her hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "Aww, babe. Was Professor Roberta that mad?"

Bea turned to face Zoey. "No, but it was much, much worse."

Zoey raised her eyebrow.

"I was paired with Satan for our project."

"Poppy?"

Bea nodded. "She even wanted to do the project in Middletown. Middletown. That's like an hour away! I mean surely there has to be another community that needs servicing that doesn't require an hour drive with Poppy."

Zoey pretended to think thoughtfully. "Hmm, maybe she finally found a way to get rid of you permanently?"

"I'm serious, Zo." Bea glared at Zoey.

Zoey laughed. "Okay, okay, sorry. But do bring holy water just in case."

Bea groaned and stood up from the chair before ambling to her bedroom. "I'm going to bed."

Before Bea was able to shut the door, Zoey called out after her. "You'll survive, babe! Give her hell for me."

***

Just a few minutes after Bea got back from her classes, she heard the sound of consecutive horns outside which she immediately knew were from Poppy. No one else is obnoxious enough to disturb an entire dormitory. With a sigh, Bea grabbed her things and trudged outside.

When Bea got outside, Poppy's Range Rover was parked at the curb. Bea walked to the passenger's side and opened the door.

"Be a dear will you and don't touch anything, I don't want your filthy hands staining my car."

Bea rolled her eyes. Hello to you, too.

The first few minutes of the drive were silent except for the light rain that started drizzling on the windshield, that is, until Bea asked Poppy, "why are we going all the way to Middletown anyway? There's probably some–"

"Remember that time when I asked for your opinion?"

Bea just glared at Poppy.

"Me neither. So, shut up, Hughes."

"How about you take a day off from being a bitch, Poppy. Seeing that you've had your whole life being just that," Bea rebuked.

The entire car ride was spent with both girls hurling insults at each other that it was honestly surprising that Poppy didn't kick Bea out of the car in the middle of the road.

After one looong hour, they finally arrived.

"Don't get in my way, Farmsville," Poppy warned as she approached the house and rang the doorbell. After a few moments, a middle-aged woman opened the door.

"Poppy! What a pleasant surprise. Come on in." The woman gestured them inside.

Hang on, how does she know Poppy?

The woman led Bea and Poppy to a couch and asked them if they wanted something to drink, to which both of them politely declined.

"So, Brenda. How is the family?" Poppy was wearing a smile that might actually be... genuine?

Bea stared at Poppy in shock. Not only were they on a first-name basis, but Poppy was actually nice to someone that doesn't involve sucking up.

"They're doing great! Thomas actually just got promoted recently so we're gonna take the kids somewhere nice sometime next week."

"That's amazing, send Thomas my regards."

Okay, what the hell is happening?

After a few more polite conversations, Brenda turned to Bea. "You haven't introduced me to your friend yet." Brenda extended her hand to Bea. "I'm Brenda."

Bea wore her biggest smile as she shook Brenda's hand. "Bea. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Poppy cleared her throat. "Actually, we came here for a community service project, and we were hoping that we could throw the kids a small party and maybe at the same time we can do a photography shoot that can be shared to prospective families. Do you think we can do that?"

"Oh, certainly! I'm sure the kids would love that."

"That's great to hear. Where are they anyway?"

"They're actually out there playing with the toys you sent them. Come on, I'll lead you to them." Brenda stood up and walked towards the back door.

Poppy started to follow her but turned around when she noticed Bea was still sitting down.

"If you're just gonna sit there like a half-wit, do us a favor Farmsville, and do it far away from here."

Still in disbelief, Bea stood up and followed Poppy and Brenda to the yard where Poppy was greeted enthusiastically by five kids. She watched as Poppy played with them with such kindness and compassion that she couldn't help but smile as most of her anger towards the blonde was replaced with warmth and some other indescribable feelings. After a few more games where Bea was basically manhandled by Poppy to join, all of them went back inside exhausted. As it was already getting late, Bea and Poppy said their farewells to Brenda and the kids with a promise of returning on Sunday for the party and went back on the road.

Bea had so many questions she wanted to ask Poppy but the look on Poppy's face implied that she probably won't be answering any of those. A few minutes later, there was suddenly a huge downpour of rain that Poppy had to park the car. Bea then received a text from Zoey, and as she read it, a look of dread flashed across her face.

Poppy frowned upon seeing the look on Bea's face. "What is it now?"

"There's a typhoon. We're stuck here."

***

Bea and Poppy managed to find a decent hotel nearby where they decided to stay until the typhoon passed.

"Two rooms, please. And make them as far away as possible," Poppy said to the receptionist while handing him her credit card, giving Bea a glare at the last sentence.

And here I thought we're finally making progress.

"I'm sorry Ms. Min-Sinclair, we only have one more room available for tonight."

#poppy #poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair #queen b #playchoices #play choices #choices #my work #my fanfics #my writing

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dreamywriterinthedark · 4 years ago

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Losing you pt III: Picking up the pieces

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Category: angst, slight fluff.

Resume: Reader struggles to get over a traumatic experience and isolates themselves. They have an outburst, Spencer finds them in the middle of it and offers a helping hand.

Trigger warnings: death, blood, trauma, anger issues, alcohol (please let me know of something was forgotten)

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this series. Let me know if you like it or what you would like to see. This is what would’ve happened if Linda Barnes was leader of the team. I’m guessing this is a bit of homage to Elle who deserved better. I would love to hear your feedback and whether you want a fourth part. Thanks <3

You slipped off your blind fold, your calmness was interrupted by the broad figure in front of your eyes. The hooded man slowly made his way towards you.

“Please, don’t kill me!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. He looked at you with such viciousness as if he was planning all the horrendous things he was going to do to you in his head. You rose up panting from another hostile episode slapping the light switch of the lamp on your nightstand.

You were on your bed completely exhausted yet wide awake. You could not allow yourself to sleep because every time you did you woke up in sweats due hallucinations and nightmares. You could not differentiate what was real and what was an illusion anymore. You walked to your kitchen pouring yourself a glass of water, your hands were so shaky you dropped the glass and flenched at the sound. By trying to pick up the pieces you cut your hand, the sight of blood on your hands brought you back to that night when you almost died and your boss hardly bat an eye.

Your vision was getting blurred whether it was your brain making you depersonalise or your tears clouding your view you couldn’t tell. You were uncontrollably sobbing. That’s when it hit you, you needed help. You hated yourself for it, it flet like you were a burden. However, you felt guilt creep in furthermore when you saw your phone light up with all the texts, all the calls you ignored making the team even more worried. You swiped the notification from your 13 missed calls making your phone call Spencer. You felt a rush go through your vein, a rush to abort whatever mission you were on, the rush to flight. The kind of rush that could’ve saved your life.

After two rings you hung up feeling stupid, now wondering if you woke him up for nothing. You slammed your phone on your kitchen counter. The anger levels spiking, overtaking the small amount of rational thoughts in your head. You sighed running your hands through your hair. Completely numb, more and more glass shattered on the floor. Once the energy was in too limited quantity in your body. You grabbed a bottle of wine chugging from it in your bathtub like a child trying to avoid family gatherings. You cried until you were too dehydrated to keep the tears flowing, until your eyes were swollen.

The ring of your doorbell caught your attention. Or was it another cruel hallucination ? You were going to ignore it until you heard it be rung once more. You checked who it was through the lense.

“Shit,” you swore, it was Spencer.

“Open the door, Y/n. I know you’re here.” you rolled your eyes at Spencer’s request your back pressed against the cold steel.

“I’m a mess.” you responded trying to dissuade him to come in.

“Your mess is my mess. I’m your home, remember ?”

You smiled detaching yourself from the door unlocking it. He pressed the handle letting his weight make the door shift open. You were brushing with a broom the glass pieces to the side to allow him to circulate safely in your apartment. He saw the blood on your floor, the bandage on your hand; he solved the puzzle himself. You turned to him, no words were needed, he saw the look in your eyes. He cupped the back of your head with one of his hands and wrapped his arm around your torso carefully, gently as if you were as fragile as fine china. You wrapped your arms around his waist breathing in his scent. He pulled away, both hands at the side of your head.

“I want to be that person you can tell anything to. The good and the bad.”

You looked up at him. “Barnes is considering suspending me because I did not follow his orders. Spencer, I had no choice…” he could hear your heart break in your voice.

“She’s not allowed to do this.” He informed you.

“She’s not ?” He nodded in response.

“She violated protocole in the first place by using governmental fund for a case too personal to him. He got his proof only by putting you in a position of danger when she needed it to act. Like you said you had no other choice. I’ve done it before, I was never reprimanded me.”

“Yeah cause you’re a man. If a man kills a rapist, he’s a hero but if a woman does it, she’s a cold-blooded crazy murderer. Gosh, I miss Emily.”

“Talk about double standards.” Spencer said, “You know, she misses you too, we all do.”

“I doubt it, honestly. I was so determined to get her validation it almost cost me my life. Maybe I should just let her know how I feel.”

“Yeah, you definitely should.”

“But what am I even gonna say to her ? What if she’s right ? What if I’m actually delusional or dangerous ?”

“Hey, hey, Y/n. Slow down.”

“Please talk some sense to me. It’s like I’m going out of my mind!”

“It wasn’t your fault. It was legitimate defence. I saw it, the whole team saw it and has your back.” he reassured you, his face closer to yours.

“Should I write her a-“

“No, you’re not doing anything tonight.” He interrupted you. “Just go take a shower then we can talk about it. Sounds good ?” you nodded to respond to him which he, as usual didn’t mind even after going on an endless monologue.

While you were in the shower, he cleaned up the mess your anger made. Once you were done, you sat down on your matcha green sofa watching the sunrise. “It’s already 4am ?! I’m so sorry for keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a night owl anyways so it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Did you know that falling asleep late is linked with a high IQ ?” he said making his way to you with two cups of tea.

“Then I must be a genius.” you answered half jokingly. “Oh thank you.” you took hold of the warm but not steamy cup in your hands. You remembered Spencer once telling you that the reason why so many dislike tea is because they think it tastes like dirt, it’s not supposed taste like that, see, if the water is burning hot it’s going to burn the leaves and speed the infusion process making it too concentrated. You turned to look at him, he was already looking.

“Sometimes I wonder how you can put up with me.”

“Because I love you.” He never failed to remind you how much he loves you even especially on your worst days. You explained what had been going on, he debunked and dismantled every question pending in you head, every lie your brain told you. It felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. For the first time in a while, you felt safe in your own home. Instead of your alarm clock, the sound of the birds were ringing in you ears. You both agreed to go talk to Barnes to solve whatever the problem was that morning. “I’m not going down without a fight, especially not when it comes to that bitch!” Spencer boldly commented to your surprise. You weren’t healed just yet but at least you got out and socialised. At least you opened up to someone you could trust.

You stepped out of the elevator one hand holding coffee, the other holding your boyfriend’s hand. Everyone walked up to you giving you a hug and greeting you. Penelope was so enthusiastic it was overwhelming.

“Long time no see,” commented Luke. “You too,” you hugged him back.

“What happened to your hand ?” asked JJ.

“I dropped a glass.” you nervously responded, you were telling the truth…at least part of it.

“Welcome back!” said Tara squeezing an embrace as well.

“Oh I don’t know about that just yet.” you said to her.

“We need to talk to Barnes first.” added Spencer.

“Whatever happens, we’re with you, Y/n” said Garcia. The others agreed, it felt good to be supported, so much you regret isolating yourself for so long.

Silence made its way into a conversation that was once filled by joy. You threw your coffee in the trash can before turning your body towards his office. Spencer, resting his hand on your back, asked “Are you ready, darling ?” You took in a deep breath sharply, nodding your head yes without taking your gaze off the door.

#criminal minds #fluff #imagine #spencer #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fluff #angst #y/n #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer x y/n #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #cbs #fbi cbs #emotional

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bigfrozenfan-fanfics · 3 years ago

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Chapter 11 - Kolgrimr

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: each Friday at 6:00 pm CEST dst/UTC +2:00 on (link)

Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks. It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting and music.

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It was an idyllic place. The rays of the midday sun glittered on the calm sea and fine water droplets enveloped them as they came closer to the rushing waterfall. Colorful flowers blossomed everywhere and a few butterflies rose up, circling around them curiously. Elsa watched their wild fluttering with fascination and tried to catch one of them, but without success.

“This place is beautiful, Anna. Thank you for showing it to me.”

“You're welcome, Elsa.”

Elsa stepped to the side of the waterfall and held her hand into the tumbling currents. Drops of water splashed in her face and she smiled.

Anna watched her sister and rejoiced with her. She seemed so different now in her new life here in the North than in her past days when she was a ruler in her home, especially now, in her Northuldra attire. She looked happier and more relaxed. Nothing seemed to bother her anymore. No bad memories from the past distracted her and she obviously enjoyed life. It seemed leastways.

“Is it just as beautiful in Arendelle?” Elsa asked aloud to drown out the sound of the waterfall. She looked at Anna with a dreamy smile and came closer again.

“Well, it's different. There is more going on there, many more people live in Arendelle and there are many big houses. But we also have a waterfall, even if it doesn't look as stunning as this one. Our home is beautiful in other ways. You'll love it.” Anna was about to say 'and if you remember everything, then ...', but didn't say it after all. She didn't want to destroy this moment.

“Well, I will see soon and I already look forward to it.” Elsa hesitated briefly, stepped up to Anna and then asked, “Which of us is actually the older one?”

“That's you, Elsa, five years older than me. You're almost twenty-five years old now.”

Elsa nodded and quietly repeated that number. “How far is Arendelle from here? How long does it take to get to there?”

“About a good day's journey by wagon, a little faster on the horse,” Anna said and almost wanted to add that Elsa was much faster on the water while she was riding Nokk, but let it go. “Why do you ask?”

“From your letters it's clear that I had an important task here and because of that you missed me very much. I had the impression that we both got along very well with each other. But why did I stay here and not ride from Arendelle to do this from time to time? Apparently I hadn't been with you for many weeks, so what could have been so important about it?”

Anna felt the tears rise up inside her. If only Elsa had thought so at that time. “It was your own decision, and I had the feeling that you felt happy about it. I didn't want to be selfish, but you had found yourself and your destiny here. I didn't want to stand in the way of that, and besides, we both had this task together, just in different places.”

“But you are the queen of Arendelle, and surely you have a lot of other duties, I can imagine. So what kind of task was that?”

Anna hesitated. Would Elsa understand if she explained what she was until recently? But at some point she had to find out anyway, and if her memories came back one day, it would become clear to her all by itself, just all of it. They had sworn years ago never to hide anything from each other again, and it was she who made Elsa that promise. It was now up to her not to break it and to tell Elsa the truth.

“Um ... so at the risk of you doubting me, but believe me, I'm telling you the truth. The short version is this. We both are, or rather were the bridge between man and nature, between the nature spirits and our two peoples. We are both half Northuldra. You were the fifth spirit who, together with the other four nature spirits up here in the north, kept the balance and were the interface to their magic. You should have seen yourself at the end, in your bright white new outfit, when we saw each other again just on this beach. After you had found out the truth about our past, me having destroyed the dam with the help of the earth giants, and the forest as well as the Northuldra finally being freed again. You died in the process, and later came back to life.” Anna paused briefly and then quietly added, “You can't imagine how I felt when Olaf dissolved in my arms and I believed at that moment that I had lost you forever.” She lowered her head and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Elsa looked at her with open mouth in disbelief and fell into silence for several long moments. One could clearly see that she was torn between doubt, amazement and anger that she could remember absolutely nothing of it.

“So not only can I magically build a living snowman, but you mean to say that I am a higher being beyond that?”

Anna took a deep breath and raised her eyebrows. “Um ... well, actually ...,” she didn't know what to say.

“I don't want to be that. I want to be normal like you, like any human being. Everything's all right here, isn't it? The plants are growing and thriving and everything is so beautiful in this place,” Elsa made a sweeping gesture with her arm, “The Northuldra are doing very well too. Everything is already in a balance that could not be much better.”

Anna couldn't believe how her sister suddenly thought about all this and just looked at her speechlessly and smiled.

“How was I back then, before everything you said about me, and what did I do in Arendelle ... except for building a living snowman? Do we have any brothers or sisters? Do any of our parents still live?” Elsa asked and could hardly contain her curiosity.

The moment Elsa mentioned her parents, Anna's good mood vanished in an instant. Tears began to collect in her eyelids. “It's a long story, Elsa, which I'd better not tell you until we get to Arendelle. But we have no other brothers or sisters, and our parents, they are ...” Anna's voice broke and she began to sob softly, “Unfortunately, they are no longer alive.”

“So we have only the two of us and you are all alone in Arendelle,” Elsa said sadly. She took a step towards her sister and pulled her into a deep and long hug. “I owe you an apology. I promise never to leave you alone again. Nothing holds me here anymore, Anna. I'll come back to you to Arendelle and stay there.”

Anna could no longer hold back her tears and sobbed unrestrainedly again into Elsa's shoulder. But this time they were tears of joy and Elsa felt a deep understanding for her sister and regret that she had not been there for her for a long time.

~~~

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Gyda worked on her kota, stuffing some of the largest holes between the wooden boards with moss and tufts of grass. It was very warm and the work was exhausting for her. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and was just getting up from her wooden stool when a familiar voice behind her asked, “Can I help you? It's a shame nobody's building you a new cabin.”

She drove around. “Kolgrimr! Are you mad showing your face here during the day?”

“Hello mother, nice to see you too, and as for your question, it soon won't make any difference. Tonight I will put my plan into motion and avenge my father.”

Gyda took a step towards him and stood in front of him with a reproachful expression. She had to look up to him because he was more than a head taller than her, taller even than most Northuldra men.

“Do you want to jeopardize everything just by wandering around so carelessly? You could be seen ... and next warn the others. Come on, get in my kota quickly.” Gyda pulled him behind her by the hand and he willingly let her.

Once inside, she turned to him and asked, “What are you planning to do?”

He passed along her with a grin while she did not let him out of her sight, sat down on one of the furs on the floor and put his long birch stick beside him. “Can you spare some food, Mother? I'm starving.”

She blew out the air and asked sarcastically, “Anything else, son?”

But, of course, she couldn't refuse her son anything and went to a low table with a little basket on top. She fished out two strips of smoked reindeer meat and gave it to him. He took a big bite of it and chewed it with relish. He still had that crazy grin on his face.

“As of this morning, everyone's looking for me anyway. I could read it in their heads. That Yelana is indeed a smart one. I just wonder how she knows about me.” He looked at her knowingly and bit off another big piece of meat.

She wandered broodingly through the room while his amused look followed her. Then she stopped and turned to him. “From me. But she had already known it somehow. She is indeed very clever.”

“Does she also know that I visit you regularly in the evening?”

“Don't play with me, Kolgrimr! You already know the answer.”

“I'm sorry. You're right, of course. There is hardly anyone with whom I have difficulty reading his mind. You're not one of them.”

“We never got along very well, Yelana and I, and if it hadn't been for this thing of the angry nature spirits and that fog, I might be the leader of our tribe now. But she took advantage of the situation, and everyone accepted her immediately.”

“Maybe you shouldn't have retreated there and gone for an open confrontation with her.”

“Perhaps. However, I certainly wouldn't have been as understanding to the rest of the men from Arendelle as she was. Questionable if more of our brave men and women would then have perished in the wake of my decisions. What's worse is that you couldn't succeed your father, to be the fifth spirit. This would have changed everything for both of us. Instead, the nature spirits and Ahtohallan itself chose a person outside of our people, on top of that a descendant of that damned king.”

“Yes, and I still don't understand it. I could feel it and I even saw it in Ahtohallan itself, as you know. Back then, until a few years ago, it was even easier for me to enter the glacier, even if only for a very short time. But the cold inside became more and more unbearable for me over time and I was sure that Ahtohallan didn't want me there anymore without having to kill me. I must have become unworthy and should stay away of my own free will.” Kolgrimr laughed gloatingly and then clenched his hands into a fist. “But I managed to wrest a few secrets from Ahtohallan before it denied everyone access. Once there was a bridge behind the ice tunnel and it was easy to enter the great hall. But one day Ahtohallan destroyed that bridge and I just made it out before it fell into the depths behind me.”

“But it was of no use and who could have guessed that the new fifth spirit would master ice magic and create a new access for herself. At least that's what I heard later. I guess she proudly told everyone in the camp and bragged about how great it is inside Ahtohallan and how easily and naturally she can go in and out there.” Gyda pointed her index finger at him and looked at him vengefully, “And that's another reason that bitch has to vanish. She has robbed you of your inheritance and blocked your path forever. She must die.”

He sighed, “Tonight I will simply walk into the camp and destroy this brood from Arendelle before they can leave as planned. The fact that even their new queen is with them is very convenient. So my revenge will taste even sweeter. Then I'll see.” He scratched his chin and thought for a moment. “Maybe I should take this opportunity to make sure that someone finally builds you a new kota. You deserve better than that.”

He reached into a side pocket of his cape and pulled out two spearheads and a grindstone. The tips were flattened on one side to form a curved edge. He began to sharpen them slowly and deliberately, one by one. Finally he reached for his battlestaff and mounted the finished tips on both ends. His mother had been watching him the whole time with a thoughtful look.

“You wouldn't want to hurt any Northuldra, would you? These are old hunting spikes and deadly in battle,” Gyda complained and looked at him worried.

“Don't worry, mother, none of our people will be seriously hurt. But whoever gets in my way should realize immediately that this is no joke and in that I'm serious. At least I hope nobody is stupid enough to take the chance.”

Then he reached under his cape and pulled out a long, richly decorated knife behind his back. He held it out to his mother with both hands. “Remember this?”

Gyda nodded without a word. She would recognize it among thousands. The handle had been carved from one piece of reindeer antler and polished smooth according to old traditional craftsmanship. It was his father's knife.

“This one is intended for the royal siblings.” He laid it down gently and his crazy grin returned to his face as he looked at it.

“They will be at dinner, and they will all be sitting together. They have no chance, any more than Father had a chance. He would be proud of me.”

~~~

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I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know, except you are already tagged :-)

Credits : Many thanks to HARU (@ xlayers) for the commissioned fantastic fanart! It’s so beautiful, and to see scenes of my story come alive in this way makes me so happy. There will be many more from this outstanding artist in the coming chapters!

Remarks: Don't be confused that Anna still wears her Frozen II outfit in this fanart. HARU haven’t created the outfit with her new jacket yet and i hope we'll see this one day. But Anna’s wearing it in my story.

Tagging: @karma26 @whether-near-to-me-or-far @annaofthenorthernlights @igotelsapregnanthelp

#frozen #frozen2 #frozen3 #fanfic #epic novel #the broken bridge #chapter 11 #end of the first part #bigfrozenfan

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comfy-whumpee · 5 years ago

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Whumping Safely 101

Many people in this community have mental health problems, face various types of discrimination, and have complicated relationships with some parts or types of whump. In particular, I aim this at people who care about the experience of survivors and others with triggers – partially because I am an abuse survivor who often flirts with triggering content as part of my love of whump.

Keeping your blog safe is difficult, takes effort, and is never a perfect process. But as the community grows and grows, it’s really important that we hold ourselves to a high standard. I would argue that this is a responsibility of all content creators, but especially those of us in the messy playground of whump.

I’ve got three sections in here: content warnings, writing with care, and community interaction. I’ve tried to make it navigable. It’s about 1.8k words. Shorter than a lot of drabbles! I welcome good-faith criticism on this topic and further questions on my own views.

Content Warnings

The biggest responsibility, in my opinion, is empowering your reader to make their own decision on whether they want to expose themselves to your writing. This also happens to be by far the easiest way to help people whump safely.

What to warn

This is a big and ever-changing topic. Some things you should warn for as a rule of thumb are anything NSFW, pet whump and box boy whump, drugs and alcohol, medical and hospital content, graphic gore, intimate partner violence, and animal harm. It can be tricky to draw the line of what counts – what needs a warning? If you’re in doubt, just warn it anyway. It doesn’t hurt.

If someone requests a trigger be warned for, even if it’s something that feels obscure or tame, show compassion and agree to the request. This is someone who cares enough about being able to read your writing that they wrote in! They want to be able to read it and enjoy it. You’re being complimented.

Otherwise, look at what other blogs tag for. You’ll see some variation in styles and levels of detail, but it’s a good way to gauge what people think is warn-worthy, when we’re often writing stuff that would already be R-rated in mainstream media.

The easiest way to make sure people don’t see your triggering content is to use a cut. Tumblr is not a very functional website and likes to delete cuts, but a cursory check of your posted content will usually tell you whether it’s worked. With asks, cuts are very spotty, so don’t be afraid to post an ask response separately with a screengrab of the original question. People often then respond to the ask itself with a link to the post, especially if it’s a whole drabble. Tumblr is weird and bad so just do your best.

Content notices

I.e., a quick summary before the drabble, usually in bold, to state what will be coming. I like to distinguish between using content notes (CN) and trigger warnings (TW) to indicate severity. Others might use the old phrase ‘dead dove do not eat’ to indicate this is a heavy piece, and often you will see qualifiers like ‘intense’, ‘mild’, ‘mention’, ‘referenced’ (i.e. it is discussed but not actively happening), and ‘implied’ (as the opposite of ‘explicit’). I’ve also seen a couple of people use ‘vibes’, which is a really nice way of demonstrating that it’s there, but not the focus. A quick paragraph like this, or just a line, lets people make a quick risk assessment on their reading.

This is also important if you’re sending in asks or requests to people. If you want to ask about something triggering, send an inquiry first about whether the blog is okay to hear it.

Tagging

Tagging is a chore, but it’s your primary way of warning people about your content. The main benefit of tagging is that you can be as detailed as you want, because can be tagging for content in general, not just triggers.

In a best case scenario, you’d tag the kind of whump you’re doing, tag triggers, tag characters, and even your ‘verses, because tagging is your index for your blog. If you tag reliably, you help your future self and your readers find stuff, and you also make your blog really dang safe. People who have unusual triggers can blacklist tags, and will pick up on your content tags to help them.

Don’t just tag your own writing. Tag your reblogs, tag your prompts, tag your asks. Yes, edit your asks to add the tags. Tag your images and gifs. Tag your images as images and your gifs as gifs.

If you aren’t up for detailed tagging for whatever reason, just tag for triggering content, and add stuff to that list if you’re asked to. My usual technique is to make a mental note of tags while I’m formatting and editing before posting.

Be aware that your first five tags will be used in search results. If you’re using tags that are associated with kink too, such as ‘shibari’, you might want to rethink your tag order if you don’t want interaction from those blogs. Also think about what tags might come up in non-whump contexts, such as ‘collar’ or ‘PTSD’. Some tactics for getting around this I’ve seen are adding ‘whump’ after the content or writing the tags in past tense (i.e., ‘collared’).

It is also a good idea to watch out for when you might be reblogging something whumpy that is intended as kink / porn / fetish, especially in images. Tagging these as spicy / nsfw / kink is a sensible move.

Writing with Care

Okay, now for the harder stuff.

I mean here to lay out some guidelines for how to write in a way that helps your reader build good faith. This is a much more nuanced topic, and it’s different for everyone. There will always be differing opinions on what should and shouldn’t be written about, what a good depiction of a sensitive topic is, and how to discuss that topic. I tried to strip this back into absolute basics that I hope we can all agree on.

Maybe your whump involves abuse. Maybe it’s gaslighting. Maybe it’s severe mental health problems, or addiction, or slavery, or you write about or analogise real-world issues. Whump deals with the dark stuff, and that’s a big part of its appeal. But don’t ever forget you’re writing the dark stuff.

(Try to) Know what you’re doing

Some of us play fast and loose with plots, medical accuracy, worldbuilding, and other things that get in the way of the pain we crave. This is all well and good, but when we start using whump that speaks true to people’s lived experiences, we shouldn’t be careless with it. I’m particularly talking about things that get represented poorly in mainstream media, such as abusive relationships, issues around marginalisation, mental illness and disability.

Be critical of media that you’ve consumed. Think about how its depicted things that you want to depict in turn. Look for opinions on fictional representations of those issues. Be aware that you might be more ignorant of things than you realise.

Look at how others are writing these issues, particularly if they’re writing from a perspective different to yours. If you haven’t personally experienced what you’re writing about, e.g., if you don’t have PTSD and you want to depict a character who does, seek out stuff written from or with experience. Listen to the experts.

If you’re looking for stuff about representation specifically, I recommend this collection of posts about ‘Braving Diversity’ cultivated by Writing With Colour, who are in themselves a fantastic resource for this topic, and have recommendations for other blogs that deal with intersecting issues.

Listen to others

Missteps are inevitable. Nobody is perfect. If constructive criticism is offered, that’s also a compliment to your writing. Someone read your work and thought about it, and thought you’d care about improving it. They’re offering themselves as a resource for helping you see your work in a new light.

Criticism is hard and sometimes hurtful, but even if we don’t think it’s accurate, there’s often a grain of truth in it. If someone tells you that your writing is harmful, think about why they’ve said that, not whether or not they’re correct. This is an opinion! Opinions are subjective! But what drove someone to send that in?

You don’t have to respond to all your criticism and definitely don’t respond straight away. Being respectful to those who are trying to help you means taking the time to consider it properly. Sometimes, they don’t need a response. Others, you might want to learn more about what they think before deciding. You might have already discussed the topic, in which case, you might just want to reblog your previous posts.

If it’s sent in bad faith or is outright hateful, you’re well within your rights to just delete it and move on. You might get the same criticism over and over again, and that’s exhausting, and you don’t have to retrace your steps for everyone.

But if it’s new, even if it puts your hackles up, you can always stop and wonder why someone felt that strongly about your work.

Take a step back

One of my better-known characters is a pet whumper who conditioned his victim to adore and depend on him. It’s not always easy to represent how deeply messed up that is within the text – though I think that’s part of the challenge – but in meta-commentary, I am always describing him as a creeptastic bastard lacking compassion and self-reflection. I hope to always give the reader the confidence that I know just how wrong it is.

This is a really simple thing you can do just to give readers good faith in you. Show that you know what you’re writing is dark and messed up. Show your understanding for the issues you’re handling and that they’re complicated. It might seem self-evident, but when you’re writing the really dark stuff, or unhealthy relationships, or institutionalised whump, you can inadvertently create the impression that you just think it’s fun. The fact that it’s fiction does not automatically absolve you. Show that you care about doing it right.

Community Interaction

I’m going to keep this one short and sweet because I will almost entirely be preaching to the choir here.

Be polite to others. Imagine saying what you’re saying to their face.

Don’t send anon hate. Just don’t. If you can send criticism off anon, do so.

Nobody is obligated to interact with you.

Nobody is obligated to monitor their own reader base.

If someone says do not interact, do not interact.

If someone says do not interact, why they’ve said that is none of your business.

You don’t need to spread the word about someone’s bad politics.

Ask yourself if your input is needed, or if what you’ve said has already been said.

You don’t have to take a side.

Take care of yourself. Take breaks. Remind yourself that whump is a small part of the world.

That’s all from me, folks. Stay safe.

#discourse...adjacent?#whump community #whump etiquette

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katyatalks · 4 years ago

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Mob Psycho 100 Interview Translation - Character Designer Kameda Yoshimichi - Otome Visual 2017

Summary-style translation for Character Designer Yoshimichi Kameda’s 4 page interview from Otome Visual 2017, regarding elements in the creation of Mob Psycho 100 such as: what inspired this cover art, the influence of fan art in the anime’s creation, Tsubomi’s design, the process behind the package art for the DVDs, and more. Includes some genga. Under read more;

[TN: The reason why I elected to summarise this interview rather than do a full write up is because a lot of the information given gets covered in December 2016′s Animestyle010, in “The Making of Mob Psycho 100.” I typed that one out in full over on twitter but that’s a long interview, and I don’t have the time or energy to reformat it for Tumblr, but if you’re interested in a very in-depth look into how Mob Psycho 100′s anime came to be I’d really recommend checking it out. Direct quotes are given in “” here. Enjoy!]

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*~The genga illustration for Otome Visual’s cover~*

“With the recent popularity that Skating Anime has had, what’s this - a Shouwa idol collab?! It’s all in the little details in their clothing - their wrinkled shirts, white trousers, black belts - both around their waists and arms.”

*~Kameda’s comments~*

“Can you heaaaar me!! I am currently speaking directly into your braaaain!!! What I’m grateful for with this commission is I was able to design the cover in any way I’d like!! A cover is a reflection of current times, so, of course, I went for ice skating! You wouldn’t be able to find this kind of amazing content in any time period other than now! That’s what I first thought! Like, Mob Psycho 100!! If there’s not a certain Mob Psycho 100-ness present in the art then what’d be the point, so, the characters are being very serious but they’re also pretty laughable. I tried to create a piece of art from which you could hear their voices!!! What’s with it being Shouwa-esque?? Being lame is incredibly cool!!! Huh? Does that describe Mob Psycho 100?? Can’t answer that if you ask!!!! Please feel the amazing Paradise Ginga x Mob Psycho 100-ness here!!!!!!”

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Kameda describes how he wasn’t sure how best to adapt the manga into an anime format at first, since from the art he was shown he immediately knew it to be very unique - the idea of using Flash to animate the show was raised but quickly shot down

Originally, upon being asked about the show, he based his thoughts on what a web image search for Mob Psycho 100 gave him rather than having the actual manga in hand. “For the most part, the results that came back would be fanart (laughs). It’s a bit strange - at that time, it was difficult to find art uploaded from the manga. If you could find anything, it’d just be art from the covers. So for the most part, an image search of Mob Psycho 100 would just bring you back fanart. A lot of that fanart would be… a shounen in a cool pose wearing a school uniform with smooth bobbed hair & sharp cat-like eyes, sort of like Hiei’s eyes (from Yu Yu Hakusho). Very different from the manga’s art. But when I looked at that art, I thought; this could work. Fanart is, fundamentally, ‘fans drawing what they like’, so I thought, ‘the anime having this kind of art would make the fans happy.’ Well, it didn’t work out that way, obviously. I was told the anime’s art should resemble that of the manga. (Laughs)”

He hadn’t read the manga so all he had for reference was art from volume 1 and the fanart he found online. “But I like things like spirits and urban legends, so seeing Dimple - a floating supernatural fiery ball - and being told the manga touches on the occult caused my interest to soar.”

Says that Teru is the easiest character for him to draw. “He’s overflowing with confidence, so it’s easy to put him into some cool poses. Mob and Ritsu in comparison, not so much. [...] With Reigen, he has a lot of poses that are like, he’s trying to look good. He takes a solid stance. I suppose Spirits & Such has such a shady air to it, and you have to hide that somehow, right? So, Reigen injects confidence into how he presents himself. A model-like stance.”

“The anime is faithful to the manga… ah, actually, Tsubomi-chan was changed with a ‘let’s make her more like a heroine’ conversation. So, I did so, but reading recent events in the manga I can’t picture her in her anime form (laughs). The manga’s Tsubomi isn’t much like a heroine, so I’ve found myself wondering, if we animate up until this part… just how will we approach it? The anime’s Tsubomi is so bright and sparkly, so she wouldn’t have snot hanging from her nose (vol.13 of manga), would she…? (Laughs). Perhaps we went a little too far with making her a heroine. Maybe, if we do season 2, we’ll turn her back into a normal girl (laughs). Well, Tachikawa-san is clever; I think he’ll find a way to make do with her current design.”

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Picture text: "This is Mezato's first appearance, so I decided to make her cute!! Thank you in advance!!"

Picture text: "That girl was telling me such a stupid story this morning... aidzuchi* isn't easy, you know... I'll just ignore her tomorrow..." [* sounds made to indicate that you're listening to someone speak]

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Asked about his favourite characters; “I love Mezato Ichi from the Newspaper Club. When I drew her in her character sheet in that pose where she’s holding her camera, I came to see her as being quite cute. So now I focus on her a lot; in fact, when I draw genga I sneakily choose the cuts that have her in them (laughs).”

“I also love Mob. Reigen stands out the most so your eyes naturally jump to him, but I love the balance that Mob has. His heads tall ratio... or rather, his face, and the way his body is proportioned? It makes him lovely. Ritsu is around the same height as Mob, but, how can I put this - the cuteness that Mob has, is lacking in Ritsu… due to the latter being quite standoffish, I suppose (laughs).”

Ritsu’s hair changing through the first season is discussed, and how it is purposefully shortened during the latter half. “I paid attention to making sure his hair was long especially while he was being possessed by Dimple. So it’d resemble thorns.”

“I feel Teru-kun is the most ‘yang’ of all the characters. The rest are more ‘yin’ in nature. Because of this, it’s easy to play around with his expressions - he’s fun to draw. Speaking in terms of Dragonball, he’s kind of like Mob Psycho 100’s Vegeta (laughs).”

“In episode 9, Dimple possesses one of Claw’s security guards, right? I don’t really understand why that security guard is so popular.” Q: What do you mean? “Because he’s just some middle-aged dude (laughs). He doesn’t even appear for long…”

After discussing the huge amount of SG!Dimple commissions received: “Unlike SG!Dimple, I don’t really get asked to draw Shou-kun. With this commission I thought to myself, I /have/ to include him here, and so I added him in. The initial brief excluded him.”

Asked about moments that stuck with him; “When Teru chokes Mob in episode 5. [...] Mob’s pained expression as he’s being choked is good, but Teru-kun’s face shows us… envy, jealousy, distress, anxiety.”

“Also, the ‘super real Reigen’ sequence from episode 12. The tension between Reigen and Sakurai is funny, but the art itself has had me laughing since production. It’s funny no matter how many times I look at it!”

Kameda’s idea to have the characters make number shapes for the volume art came from him watching ‘Tonneruzu no Minasan no Okage deshita’, specifically the ‘Mojimoji-kun’ segment of the show (where they try to make numbers from their bodies)

Volume 6’s cover art was first planned to have a whole ensemble of characters, but Kameda changed his mind on this - “if we do a second season, we can leave that for volume 12 (laughs).”

Volume 4's cover was originally planned to feature only Onigawara and Gouda, but Kameda found himself wanting to include the rest of the body improvement club

Regarding the pose we see on vol 6’s package art, “My original thoughts for that cover were to have Reigen and Mob in a ‘hell wheel’ pose, like, Mob pulling Reigen’s legs and arms… but that wouldn’t be very fitting for the final volume.”

His message to the readers; “Thank you for your support! With sales, the ‘this is popular!’ message gets conveyed, and the more support you give us, then there’s no doubt we’ll be able to produce season 2 and season 3!! Season 2 relies on your support. It’s in your hands - thank you!!”

---

Crossposted on twitter here.

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #anime visual 2017 #Kameda Yoshimichi #interview #sg!dimple middle age man rights

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ambivalentmarvel · 5 years ago

Text

so the story behind this is that @sreppub arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat.

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces.

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?”

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?”

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front.

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it.

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going.

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.”

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement.

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision.

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

#tony stark #stephen strange #peter parker #supreme family #iron dad #spider son #fic #tss #ambivalentmarvel #if you tag this st*rker you die by our blade

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tundrainafrica · 4 years ago

Text

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (7/17)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: I was busy with fic exchange pieces for a while but will be focusing on updating my multi chapter fics now. As always, feedback is very much appreciated :D

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 8

Link to cross-postings: AO3

“So you’re Levi Ackerman?” The woman who had just entered the room looked excited. Too excited.

After being kept waiting that long, Levi was in no mood for anything, especially unnecessary pleasantries. For the past thirty minutes at least, he had been sitting on the couch of a quaint office. It was spacious and there was at least enough room on the couch to elevate his knee comfortably. Probably the reason he had the self control to give a curt nod in reply.

“I’m a fan! I watched a few of your events actually and I’m so glad to have you here,” she said too enthusiastically. She paused for a second and shook her head. “No, I’m horrified about you being injured which caused you to end up here but I’m just really excited to get to know you.”

Levi didn’t feel the need to reply.

She walked to her desk and dropped her canvas bag before sitting on the couch in front of Levi. “Sorry for being a little late. I just came out from another meeting and went out to get something to eat after. Maybe I could give you my number and you could text me if you get here before I do.” She took a post-it out of her purse and scrawled a few numbers on it and slid it towards Levi.

Shouldn’t you have my number? Somehow it was hard to believe that she was a counselor. “Name?” Levi asked.

“Shela. Just call me Shela.”

Levi had met those types of people before who go by nicknames. More often than not, he couldn’t blame them, usually they had a very old fashioned or embarrassing name behind it. He couldn’t believe someone as transparent or excitable as her who didn’t look like she had much control of her filter, would have issues about how embarrassing a name was though.

“I have a very old fashioned first name.” Shela added, only confirming Levi’s suspicions. “Shela… Sierra - Hotel - Echo - Lima - Alpha.”

Levi typed the name on his phone and saved the number.

Last Name? Academic History? He set the rest of the details aside. As long as he knew her name, he could probably get through enough sessions to at least keep both his coach and Erwin satisfied. Going to a counselor was not his idea after all. It was his coach apparently who had requested it and it was Erwin who had pushed for it. Without twice a day training or even the freedom to go wherever he wanted without being completely exhausted within hours, Levi had not much of anything else to do anyway.

Shela brought out a notebook from her purse, opened it to a bookmark paged and wrote something on it before looking up at him. Levi couldn’t help but note that when she wasn’t looking ashamed or overly enthusiastic and she did look like she knew what she was doing.

“I’m going to skip the question of ‘what brings you here’ because I think we all know why you’re here.” She gestured her pen towards Levi’s leg. “Let’s start with something simple. How are you? How are you feeling today?”

“My knee hurts and I can’t train anymore. But I’m focusing on studies now so I think I’m doing okay.” He answered, having prepared that script in his head the thirty minutes he spent waiting for her.

“I’m not asking how you’re coping. I’m asking how you’re feeling today.” Shela’s piercing eyes were a beautiful shade of blue. The serious look she gave him then bore into him. In fact, it felt like it bore into his soul.

Despite the generally bad first impression she gave him, Levi was somehow convinced that she was qualified to do that type of work and his showing up there might turn out to be worth something after all. Levi found himself almost hypnotized by that look she gave him, a healthy mixture of concern, interest and professionalism.

Hiding and watching his words felt pointless and Levi found himself saying his answers as his brain came up with them.

A Tale of Two Slaves

The hospital where he was slated to have his next sessions was that same hospital he had stayed in a week ago. Conveniently, it was a five minute walk from where he had been staying since he got out of the hospital: Hange’s apartment.

Just until I can walk up stairs. Levi had told himself. There were many dormitories clustered around campus yet he had ended up staying in the least handicap friendly one. The first floor had a lobby and a common room and the actual bedrooms were only found at the second floor and the third floor. To top it all off, there was no elevator. He had to note though that it was an old building with only three floors so it would have been useless to put one.

He was on scholarship and it was assigned to him back in first year so he did not have much of a choice. He didn’t need to think too much of it either that past three years of college since he had never been injured enough to the point of being unable to climb stairs

With his leg completely immobilized and a deadweight, Levi was sure it would be a nightmare to brave that everyday. The paperwork and legwork required to change dormitories in the middle of the semester seemed daunting as well. In the end, Hange had offered to let him stay over in her apartment.

Her condominium was spacious, it had an elevator and it was walking distance from the hospital where he’d have both his counseling and physical therapy sessions.

Walking Distance. For non handicapped people, it should only take five minutes to walk the two block distance from the hospital to the apartment building. Levi took ten minutes to clear it and by the end of it he was exhausted and despite the chill of mid autumn, Levi found himself sweating as he arrived in the apartment.

It was a Friday afternoon, a week after he was released from the hospital. Nobody was pressuring him to go back to school yet. His professors had been kind enough to send him lecture slides and give him extensions. Some classmates had dropped their own summarized notes and get-well messages.

Levi settled on his bed and propped his knee on his pillow, looking through the lecture slides of his last class. Despite his self imposed week long isolation, Levi just wanted to go back to normal life.

But it never will be normal again. Although Levi did see a glimmer of hope in the possibility of feeling normal again when he went back to school, the realist in him knew it wouldn't happen.

Levi was supposed to be in the process of accepting at least that it would never be the “normal” he used to have and had taken for granted. Something inside him was rebelling the process though.

If I can't live the life I want, then I won't live at all. That something screamed inside him.

That form of rebellion left Levi with little energy for anything else. His mind was slower. His body was heavier. He was seeing little reason to move beyond the mechanical and primal movements needed to survive.

As if by magic, his body that used to carry him over two meter tall bars, suddenly felt like it weighed a ton. The weight crushed him everyday. At times Levi found himself unable to breathe. That was he found himself in that same position for sixteen hours a day, either sleeping or staring at the same white ceiling above him.

In fact, the only time he had left the Hange's apartment was for that one counseling session Hange had prodded him to go to. That was the only time she had forced him to go out of the house as if she herself understood somehow the comfort and at the same time the panic that came with a self imposed isolation.

What else was there to do?

He was alone. He had kept to his own bubble in college, only flitting between the two islands of academics and trainings.He was always either busy or exhausted and the lack of in-between had given him little time to reflect on the state of his mental health. And suddenly he had lost one of his islands, the bigger one, the one that had given him meaning the past few years. That had left him completely and utterly lost. Maybe even desolate.

That was what Shela had pointed out in their first counseling session as Levi attempted to articulate the emptiness inside him, the slight panic that came with idleness, the sudden need to turn off all message notifications and the frequent mood changes that came with Hange's entering and exiting the apartment.

And his weird dependence on Hange.

In between studying for his three subjects that semester and icing his bum knee, what else was there to do? Wait for Hange to come home? Talk to her during that one to two hour window when she wasn't working on her thesis? That was what his life had ended up revolving around anyway.

Levi found himself only replying to anything related to studies or graduating. He had received a few messages from others, suggestions to visit training, offers to visit from teammates and he had ignored them all. Somehow, the reminder of the loss of the one hobby that had kept him busy for the past decade of his life, was mocking. He became someone who waits, someone who just went with the flow of everyone's schedule. Having been busy his whole life, having been constantly needed and looked for and only recently, having been reduced to where he was, Levi felt his life was just a series of wrong choices, wrong choices that only formed a distrust with himself and consequently a refusal to engage in activity.

What else am I supposed to be doing? Levi opened his laptop. For a moment he had tried to go through his school notes at Shela’s advice.

After less than an hour of halfheartedly reviewing his notes and forgetting it soon after, Levi had exhausted his already scarce energy. With nothing else to do, he had decided to move to scrolling through timelines which displayed little to no signs of real life obligations, pinterest and reddit to pass the time. Within an hour of just scrolling through both, he had gotten tired of it too. It was a new feeling. Usually he could drown himself in hours of social media and timelines but at that point, nothing was interesting to him anymore.

Have you tried writing out how you feel? Shela’s suggestion echoed in his head. Like maybe get a journal. It’s a great way to process your thoughts and emotions.

What’s there to write. Levi asked himself and Shela’s voice as it echoed in his head. Levi could only stare at the blank screen, his emotions too non-existent to write. The blank document he had opened in front of him was the best representation of his thoughts and emotions already.

There are no right or wrong answers. Shela had brought up another good point during their session.

You think, therefore you are. You feel therefore you are. As long as you’re processing images, sounds and sensations, you’re thinking. You’re feeling something and you can write something down.

Then why do I feel so empty? Levi had asked.

Shela had compared it to a false bottom. As he continued to stare at the blank page in front of him, Levi was starting to feel for that false bottom in his mind. It was a matter of discipline more than anything, determination to dig into one’s self.

It could have taken hours but as Levi looked at the time on his laptop, he realized much time hadn’t passed. In fact, the time to the lower right of his screen, was still the same. But Levi was starting to think differently.

He did have something to look back on. Stories he hadn’t thought back to in a while, having been occupied by training, Hange’s tests, studies and recoveries. They continued to taunt him in the mornings. With the magic of worldly obligations, Levi had managed to set them aside.

His motivations particularly lay in the fact that his world was a little bigger, he was talking to more people and the idea that these same people he was seeing were the same ones he’d been writing fictional stories for had him questioning his own sanity and had him a little self conscious about having those dreams in the first place.

At that moment though, his inability to think and feel beyond that false bottom had Levi more alarmed and he found himself attempting to articulate those dreams on the word processor just to experience a semblance of something.

Levi at least confirmed one thing, that bottom was false. And the more he articulated those dreams, the more they became real. He was starting to scrape on that false bottom and the first things that were oozing out were dreams. Somehow, the dreams were more vivid that he had ever remembered them to be. He felt almost guilty for having set them aside like some sort of fair weathered friend.

“Hey not bad! Is that homework?”

Levi tensed up in surprise. He should have been able to hear the familiar footsteps and the jangle of the keys from his place on the sofa bed. He never missed it once. Levi didn’t know if he should be proud that he had distracted himself enough not to consider Hange or terrified that she was right behind him at that moment, probably reading through his work.

He quickly closed his tab and looked at the time on the lower right. It was only five. Hange usually went home at seven.

“You’re early,” Levi commented.

“It’s my apartment. I can choose when to go home.” Hange answered. “Anyway what was that? Are you writing?”

“A journal,” Levi explained. There was not much point in lying.

“Did the counselor tell you to do that?”

“Yeah. Something about processing emotions and thoughts.”

“It’s a good exercise. Especially since you seemed pretty out of it recently...” Hange trailed off.

Levi looked back at her and noticed a flicker of what looked like guilt in Hange’s eyes before she looked away.

“Out of it?” Levi knew what she was talking about. He just felt the need to keep the conversation going.

“You spent the past weekend just lying in bed. I never even saw you look through your phone or open your laptop. ” Hange explained. “I’ve seen how these types of things develop so... So yeah, I’m just so happy to see you so focused on something else.”

“I don’t really have much else to get into other than school.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Hange said.

Levi bit his lip, instantly regretting that last sentence. Hange averaged two apologies a day which was a lot given the fact that they only ever had a two hour window to talk in between Levi’s long hours asleep and Hange’s long hours on campus.

“It wasn’t your fault. I was kinda going crazy too...With the jumping I mean.” He added. “And I was the one who decided to make that last jump in the first place. And now you have to change your whole thesis topic.”

“It wasn’t too difficult. Just one week building a new proposal. It’s still the same case study, it’s just I decided to document a recovery. Erwin’s unconventional methods with the recovery makes it worth documenting.”

“At least I’m still useful somewhere,” Levi commented wryly. Hange had explained the thesis to him over the weekend. He should have been relieved at least to know that they weren’t separating anytime soon. Surprisingly though, he wasn’t even happy to hear it. Everything around him just seemed too bleak to celebrate anything. Good news that used to make him smile and celebrate internally suddenly only made him feel a slight sense of relief, the equivalent emotion of seeing a wet floor sign in an area with slippery floors.

Hange sat on the sofa bed next to Levi and looked towards him. She took a deep breath. “I know with what’s been happening, it looks like you don’t have much going for you. And I know things seem pretty dark now but things will get better. You just have to keep living.”

“I’m still breathing.”

“You know what I mean,” Hange said. “When I get up in the morning you’re asleep. When I get back we talk for an hour and half the time it’s just me talking. You barely even answer when I ask what you want. This past weekend I didn’t even see you look through your phone. It’s like you’re practically dead.”

“What else is there to do. I can’t show up for training. My professors aren’t asking me to go back to school soon.”

“Find a new hobby? Continue whatever thing you’re writing. Enjoy the food I bring home. Laugh when you see a funny meme. Or you know, at least smile and do that nose blowing thing people do when you show them a funny meme..”

“My teammates are preparing for the new season. My classmates are at least all caught up in class. I spent too much damn time on that fucking sport. Now that it’s all gone, I feel like I’m just going with the flow of life instead of actually swimming,” Levi said, having taken that last part from Shela’s book.

“Everyone is just going with the flow of life. We’re all at the mercy of time anyway. Live for yourself. See joy in the small things at least. Look at me, I’m simping for athletes like some idiot in between studies.”

“Live for yourself? You follow people’s orders a lot for someone who gives this type of advice.”

“It’s not obeying people. I’m just asking questions and seeking advice. The more relevant facts, information and experience you have, the better the decisions you can make right. So can’t I argue that having more information at my fingertips makes me freer? ” Hange gave Levi a knowing and playful smile

He could tell by the look she gave him that she expected something in return. It was a rhetorical question though, maybe even a premature victory lap for having won that argument. Levi silently looked back at his laptop, not wanting to let her win.

Hange broke the silence. “Okay now that we’re on the topic of asking questions... who’s that Squad Leader Hange Zoe you’re writing about?”

A Tale of Two Slaves

Levi could not pinpoint the exact moment he decided for certain that squad leader Hange Zoe was real, when he decided for himself that the stories he was writing out should have been real.

It came as a gradual decision after incessant questions from Hange that at first, he was determined not to answer. Hange was smart about it, keeping the questions as things that could be answered with one word, and before he knew it, he was giving her too much information, it was pointless to blatantly refuse. After he had answered her more than enough questions, she smiled.

“Looks like you got my personality down,” Hange commented. Levi somehow knew her enough to tell there was no judgement or obligation in that voice. In fact, when he looked into her eyes, he saw that same wonder, he had seen many times before when she witnessed the jumps.

That wonder only carried over from questions on the squad leader to questions on his dreams and finally, to questions on how he wrote his dreams out.

“How do you see the world?”

“How do I see the world?”

“Like what type of camera angles do you see the world in. If I asked you to imagine a tree, what kind of tree do you imagine? Do you imagine it from top to bottom, from trunk to top? Our minds are the most creative producers and cameramen you can think of.”

“Do you notice how well our body blends sensations? When the light turns off then on, there’s a split second where you see shapes when your eyes adjust from light to dark?”

“What are the physical manifestations of emotions? Do you feel your stomach drop? Do you ever get that tingling feeling in your legs and suddenly they’re jelly?”

Did you ever witness something so beautiful that you wish you could live forever just so you could never forget it?

The conversation was a little deep and a little too philosophical for him. It was a ploy to get him writing and maybe a ploy to get him to understand the same wonder she had in the world from what he could tell. Somehow he needed it. The way Hange had described the world, the way she had described reality, only made the line between what could have been his imagination and his memory a little more distinct.

It was around then did he look at Hange Zoe the medical student to see the squad leader from his dreams. Erwin Smith, Hange Zoe and every single one of the soldiers in these dreams. They weren’t just dreams or manifestations of an exhausted mind.

In another life, she could have been real. The angles at which he saw the world, the way his body processed those sensations in his dreams, the manifestations of those emotions, too vivid even more vivid than a catharsis from a good book or a phenomenal ending to a TV show.

The questions continued to echo as Hange turned off the lights and Levi lay in bed awake. That food for the thought left Levi hyper aware of his surroundings, all the way down to the small details --- the way every piece of thread on the bed covers beneath him pressed on to him, the way his breath made a sound in the utter silence late at night no matter how much he tried to quiet it, the way the palpitations in his chest could be felt all the way until his head. He was excited to sleep, dream and take stock of his dreams yet he was too excited to fall asleep.

Like a five year old the night before their first field trip, Levi did not fall asleep anytime soon.

A Tale of Two Slaves

Nobody really questions the logic of dreams.

Sometimes one can find themselves only a few millimeters tall on top of a giant donut. Sometimes they can find themselves having milk tea with their favorite celebrity. Dreams are more felt by the moments they bring to people, not by the logic. It was only natural Levi did not question much of his dreams then.

That night as he lay awake, Levi made the conscious effort to live in his dreams, to take note of every detail from the sights and sounds, to the smells, the emotions, repeating to himself the questions Hange had asked earlier that day. What he had failed to consider then, was the context of dreams.

Were Hange and the others okay?

He found himself on the battlefield and he knew exactly what had to be done. In front of him was a large furry creature which the military had dubbed the Beast Titan and around him were other naked humanoid creatures called titans.

The Beast titan was flinging rocks at them and the soldiers were dying at an alarming rate.

Commander Erwin Smith ordered a suicide mission. All surviving soldiers were to rush towards the Beast Titan while Levi flew from the side of the walls and snuck towards him.

He knew what to do. The movements were natural and Levi had flown before, the gear on his waist had only made the whole mission easier. Somehow, on the battlefield he had the luxury of stock knowledge.

That stock knowledge was what had him slicing through the arms, through the eyes, through the achilles and finally through the nape of said titan. He pulled out a blonde man and pushed the sword through the man’s mouth.

He could feel his blood boiling. From anger? Of course, the man had killed Erwin. For a second, Levi had managed to get a view of the blond commander as he flew from the wall slashing titan after titan. He knew the man was probably dead.

But there was a way to revive him. There was a serum.

Before Levi could give it a second thought, a duck billed monster tore into his view and---

Levi sat up and screamed. He found himself in no hurry to dodge that duck billed titan. He was in Hange's apartment, too injured to be flying in the air in those contraptions anyway. He ran his hands through his body and up to his face, taking stock of his reality. He didn't reek of titan blood nor was he covered in it. He scanned the dark room, or at least what was visible given the moon was his only light source.

Somehow, those few moments as captain Levi had felt so real, watching the moon from his place on the sofa bed seemed almost dreamlike.

Which one is my reality? Levi found himself questioning it all. As quickly as the questions came, they were answered. All he needed was one stimuli, strong enough to root him back into his reality.

"Hey, bad dream?"

The dark room and his own state of mind had made it difficult for him to notice that Hange had settled beside him. That voice though had pulled him out of his trance and he became certain at least that he was not dreaming anymore.

"Yeah," Levi managed to say. At the least he still had control of his voice.

Hange sat cross-legged next to him. The moon was at a perfect angle to illuminate her face and even in the dark room he could see it. Her eyes were looking right at him as if she were studying him a little too seriously.

She brought out one finger to his eye and pushed at the corner. That was when Levi felt it. The small tear spread on the corner of his eye and dried up within seconds. Levi only hastened the process by wiping it himself.

"I'm not leaving you tonight."

"Why?"

"I'll take full responsibility for this. It was my mistake that got you into this in the first place.”

"I've had them before. This is nothing new.” Levi argued. As Hange lay on the sofa bed next to him though, he realized he didn’t want her to leave. His body froze as if understanding that emotion, unwilling to accommodate the protests, the impulse inside him to argue, to force her to go back to her room.

The sofa bed was at least big enough for both of them, wide enough for a comfortable one to two feet space between them. Hange had made sure as well to lie on her side, only widening that space a little more.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you this but I swear I really do mean it every time. I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked as she said it.

Levi only continued to stare at the ceiling above him, listening to her disturbed and hitched breaths next to him as if she was holding back something. He didn’t want to look to his side, not wanting to further aggravate a reaction he sensed was raring to come out of her or to further tighten that knot which had settled itself on his chest. His dim surroundings only illuminated weakly by the moon, did not help at all.

Levi lay awake for a while longer, scrambling for words that could placate her.

This is nothing new. It hadn’t worked.

I’m fine. But he wasn’t.

Things happen. Had he not given that same consolation so many times before?

Eventually the rhythm of her breathing evened out enough for Levi to guess that she had fallen asleep, and as if by some special force, Levi found his breathing slowing down too. He was starting to relax.

The apartment was dark and quiet. It was peaceful, so peaceful that Levi never did notice when exactly he was pulled back into his dream. The dimness of the apartment was gradually replaced by the dimness of the forest a long time ago. The distant sounds of passing cars gradually replaced by the crackle of a fire and the rustle of leaves on a windy night.

He was surrounded by trees. A broken wooden cart lay to the side and a few feet away from it a campfire.

The soft and even breathing next to him stayed though. The same exact pattern, the same exact rhythm, the same hitched breaths--- all signs of the light uneasy slumber of his companion.

That was all Levi needed to hear to have sworn nothing much changed about her.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levihan fanfiction #fanfic

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lesbian-deadpool · 4 years ago

Text

Roses In A Storm

Part One of Three: We’re Not Done Yet

Prelude | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2,777

Warnings: Sadness, grief, blood, violence, excess drinking, anger, murder, talks of weed use, I think that may be it.

Request: By so many but mainly @missmonsters2. Happy??

Summary: Unhinged and grieving. You get a very special guest.

A/N: This is the ending to “Soulmates”.

Ko-Fi

(Not my GIF)

***

To say you became unhinged after Tony's funeral, was an understatement.

Your entire being crumbled. And you became a shell of the person you used to be.

You cared about nothing and no one. Not even yourself.

You had told Fury he could, respectfully, shove your job up where the sun doesn't shine. And stormed out of his office, with him calling after you.

And that wizard dude.

What was his name?

Stanly?

Sherlock?

Samantha?

Fucking, Benadryl Copypaper?

You didn't know, you couldn't remember?

But that wasn't the point. What was the point, however, was how much Socriteis-Harry Potter bothered you- Stephen Strange!- That was wand-boys name!

Anyway!

He had been bugging the shit outa you ever since you left the lake house.

You could kill him.

Texts, emails, letters, calls, fucking popping out of nowhere. With all this "we're not done yet" bullshit. Yada, yada, yada. To be completely honest, you didn't listen to a single word he ever said, so you wouldn't know.

Luckily, he didn't randomly pop out from one of his orange portals, as much as the other things. So, you didn't have to actively try to dodge, escape, and punch him the fuck out evade him all that much.

But you could still fucking kill him.

Currently, you were stood, overlooking The Hudson River, staring at The Statue Of Liberty. The cold had just started to settle in, Autumn slowly turning into winter, frost visibly coating the ground.

Natasha loved this time of year.

It wasn't too hot that she would feel like she was melting, and it wasn't too cold for her to have to bundle up too much to step out. It was just perfect. She always liked it on the chilly side.

You remember once a few years ago before you had even met Penny and started this whole heart-breaking spiral. Natasha had dragged you out of the tower, her hand in yours as she literally dragged you. And towards the coffee shop she had recently found in the Soho area, what she was doing there in the first place, you didn't ask, out of fear of being threatened. Because you knew Natasha would never, actually, hurt you.

It was a fantastic day out.

One of the best times of your life.

The day had started off early, at around ten AM at that coffee shop, which you had to admit, was amazing. Followed by a store Natasha wanted to check out for Clints Christmas present. Then you had lunch, followed by more shopping.

You were pretty sure this was all one big day for Natasha to find out what gift to get you. But, none the less, you spent the entire day together. Even ending the day by staying over at Natasha's apartment, after walking her home. Because you were a gentleman like that. And also, there were way too many bags for her to carry.

Who knew that the Black Widow could shop like it was a sport?

At the end of the day, you came to the conclusion that she would win gold in the Olympics for it if she could. She could win gold in the Olympics on most of the sports if we're being truly honest.

It was a date.

Not your first one, by far.

But it was a date.

You realised that now.

Way too late.

That wasn't just Natasha's way of finding out what to get you for Christmas. She wanted to take you out on a date.

And you were way too fucking clueless to realise that.

You just wish you could make up for that now.

You wished you could hold her in your arms again.

The way you were always supposed too.

Not as friends. But as lovers.

But now, you had to live without her. So you did what you always did to get through the day.

You drank.

You found the closes bar that was open at the early hours of the morning, sat down on one of the dingy stools, and drank.

Little did you know, that sitting at that bar, would change your life forever.

***

The sound of glass smashing behind you caused your eyes to snap wide open, startled at the sudden noise. But you didn't care enough to turn around and check the commotion out, from your place leaning on the bar, with your glass of whisky pressed to your temple.

"This is bullshit!" Came a gruff voice.

"Hey," that same voice said. It's owner shoving against your shoulder harshly, "Avenger."

"That's not my job anymore," you replied coldly, to the scruffy man, with a long dirty blonde beard.

You had seen him around this bar, that you had quickly made your regular, but had never caught his name.

"No, but you were one," he spat out drunkenly.

"Well done," your tone was sarcastically chipper, "Would you like a sticker for being such a big, smart boy?" The sickly sweet smile that was on your face fell, as you turned back to take a hearty swig of your drink.

"You motherfucker."

Just as he was about to shove you off of your stool, the bartender spoke up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Do you really want to go up against an ex-Avenger?"

"Shut up, Weasel!"

"Yeah," you told the bartender, smirking as you did, "He's a big boy, remember. He can make his own mistakes."

"'Mistake'?!" the bearded man barked out, "Ha! No. This is going to be the best thing I've ever done."

"I think you've drank too much there, dirtier Hagrid."

He slammed his fist down onto the bar, furious at your calm state.

"You see that up there?" He pointed up to the long chalkboard above the bar. "That's the Dead Pool, and you're the highest one to win-"

Without even sparing the board a glance you quipped, "Yes. I am able to read."

You didn't even flinch when the man flicked out a switchblade right by your cheek, just continued to drink your burning liquor.

"I want that money. And I'm gonna get it. But first, I'm gonna cut out your tongue so you can't say any more smart-ass remarks."

"Wow. 'remarks'. That the smartest word you have in your vocabulary?"

A laugh sounded from behind you. One, predictably, from your new-found friend, Wade. Just as the man to your lefts anger bubbled up, flowing from the brim.

"Oh, you motherfuck-"

He brought his blade back, intending to stab you in the back, as he spoke. That is before your almost empty glass smashed into the side of his face, glass flying everywhere, especially into his face and your palm. The man yelled out in pain. And before he could retaliate by trying to stab you again, you quickly disarmed him, fracturing his arm as you did so. Then plunging the switchblade into his right thigh, making him scream out in pain. Ad finally, you delivered a crushing blow to his chest, by kicking him down to the floor, along with a couple of barstools, breaking a few of his ribs in the process.

Most of the people in the -once nunnery- bar, sounded out their happiness at witnessing a fight, no matter how outmatched the people were to each other. While the man groaned on the floor, trying his hardest to stand up, while a few of his buddies helped him up.

"Told you so," Weasel said offhandedly, his face sporting a cringe.

"You sonofabitch!" he spat out -like, literally spat... gross-, as he tried his hardest to keep his tears at bay.

"You- You stabbed me," he stuttered, pointing at you.

"That's right, Einstein. I did."

"You'll pay for that. You'll fucking pay!" He hoppled closer to you so that you were now face to face. Leaving his buddies behind.

"I can't wait." You smiled.

"There's no fucking wonder the bitch you drank overthrew herself off of a fucking cliff." Your smile dropped. "Anything to get away from you. To never have to see your face again."

Bad idea.

Your sight turned into an intense hue of red, so much so that the man's beard turned ginger.

Rage boiled up within you. The only other time you had felt this angry was when you found out that Natasha was gone, and she was never coming back, and that it was all that purple Titan's fault.

You hit him.

Of course, you fucking hit him.

With all your might.

No one said that kind of shit about Natasha. And especially not to your face.

But you weren't fighting a titan this time.

You were fighting a drunken burly man.

A drunk burly man who could take a fucking punch.

But you chalked that up to his adrenaline and how intoxicated he was.

He was sure to feel it all in the morning.

He stumbled from your punch. The knife, still in his leg, tearing against his flesh, causing more blood to spill from the wound.

And for Weasel's skin to tingle green, when he saw it.

The bearded man's friends rushed up to him, as yours did the same to you, holding you back from the man. As you roared at him.

"You're one stupid motherfucker, you know that?! It's like you've got a fucking death wish!"

He spat blood at you while laughing, "You really think she loved you! Wouldn't she still be here if she did?!"

You exhaled hotly. Fury pouring from your every pore.

The familiar cold metal filled your hand as you pulled the trigger of your concealed gun, shooting the man between the eyes.

Okay... so, maybe he wouldn't feel everything in in the morning...

His friends were just as idiotic as he was. Them all moving to pull out their own guns, but you made quick work of them.

Two more head shots. And one shot to the neck.

Even drunk, your marksmanship was impeccable.

"Well..." Wade said slowly, as the whole bar grew silent. Patting you on your back, he continued, "You just won yourself ten grand."

"Awesome," you muttered, "I'm buying everyone their drinks for the rest of the day!"

That got the bar cheering again.

"What the fuck, Y/L/N?!"

You turned around at the new voice. Coming face to face with Nick Fury, who looked beyond angry.

"Nick!" you cheered, "Take a seat, have a drink.- I'm paying!"

"Yes. I heard."

The man watched you for a few moments, noting how intoxicating you were. But was still able to see the coldness behind your eyes, that wasn't there before.

But a lot of things had changed since then.

Fury sighed.

"We need to talk."

***

"Hey, Weasel! Can I get another drink over here, please?!" you called over to your friend and bartender, who nodded at you.

You sat at a small table in the back of the bar, with Fury to your right, and Wade to your left.

The bodies of the four men you had shot down, already cleared away, and the drinks you had promised the patrons, poured.

"You still shot down four men in cold blood, Y/L/N," Fury continued on with his rant, that had been going on since you first sat down with him, not even fifteen minutes ago. You rolled your eyes, just as Weasel cam over, placing a full bottle of whisky down in front of you.

"If it makes you feel any better," the bartender began, facing Fury, "Those guys were plotting to kidnap some kids for ransom."

Fury just starred at the fidgeting man, with a blank eye. No emotion showed on his hard face, which only made Weasel more anxious.

"Right. I'll just go then."

"It makes him feel better, Weasel!" you called to the retreating man.

Even after months of not seeing the man, you could still read his, almost always, blank face, like an open book. It was a skill you wore proudly like a badge of honour. You doubted if your skill would ever fade.

Fury 'humphed' at you. Knowing full well that you were right, as he watched you take a swig of whisky straight from the bottle.

"You've changed, Y/N."

"No shit," you said harshly, "Wouldn't you?"

Fury sighed, for the umpteenth time since you've been talking to him.

"Listen Y/L/N-"

"Sorry to interrupt," Weasel said, "Making you smile into your bottle of alcohol, "But not really- What happened yo your eye?"

"He won't tell you, trust me. I've been asking him about it for years."

Wade hummed, squinting his eyes at the scars coming from behind Fury's eye patch, from his half rolled up mask, while taking a sip from his pina colada.

"My eye is not the focus, right now," Fury barked.

"Oh, but can it be?"

"Yeah, I beg to differ," Wade carried on, waving his finger at the fore talked about eye, "It looks like you got scratched by an itty-bitty kitty-cat."

"Bold words from the man whose lips look like a gaping asshole," Fury fired back, causing you to laugh so hard that tears started seeping from your eyes.

You wiped at your eyes as you regained as much of your composure as possible at that moment. Muttering to yourself, "I'm so drunk."

"Okay, listen. I came here for a reason- Don't." Fury pointed at both you and Wade, glaring at you in warning as to not interrupt him, with your remarks, or just in a general. "Strange has been trying to contact you, Isn't that right, Y/L/N?"

"Yeah. He wants me to work for him, go back to work for you, or something. I don't know, I didn't listen to him. He can go fuck himself."

"Strange?" Wade asked

"Yeah." You nod. "The portal guy I told you about."

"Oh. Shitty Harry Potter?!"

"That's the bitch!"

"Okay, that's enough!" Fury yelled, slamming his hands down onto the table, causing the drinks upon it to shake.

"Okay, damn. What's up you dating him, or something?" you asked.

"No, I'm not dating him," Fury growled.

"It's okay if you're gay." You nodded at Wade's words. "We don't care. We're both gay as fuck."

"I'm not!" Fury stopped himself from fishing his sentence, taking a breath and then exhaling it before he started speaking again. "I'm not dating Strange. But you do need to talk to him."

"Yeah, not gonna happen."

"Just hear him out."

"There's no reason for me too! What? He's gonna ask me to help him out with some hero bullshit. Well, I don't do that anymore."

"Yeah, I've noticed with all of the vigilante work you've been doing with your new friend here." Fury nodded towards Wade, who placed a hand over his heart.

"Oh, you've heard of my work. You flatter me."

"I'm not a vigilante I'm a hitman," you spoke at the same time.

"You're a what?"

"A hitman. If I'm gonna do this shit, might as well get paid for it." You shrugged.

"Or you could not just do it."

You shrugged once again. "It's what I'm good at. And it's the only thing that seems to distract me from this unbearable pain- Well. That and drinking. Also, weed. So much weed."

Fury put his head in his hands, shaking it against his palms, because of your words.

"Good job, Y/N. You broke him!"

"Stop it, both of you," Fury muttered.

"I know, it's so easy. It's a skill really."

"Stop," Fury ordered.

"What's up, Nick?" you asked, "Someone bugging you? Need me to kill ew? I'll give you a friend's and family discount."

"Just listen to strange!"

"Okay."

"Wait. Really?" Fury asked.

"For the right amount."

You smirked as Fury groaned.

"I'm not paying you to listen to Strange."

"Then I guess I ain't listening to him then."

"He wants to talk about Natasha!" he yelled.

Slowly pulling the whisky bottle from your lips, you placed it back on the table.

"What about Natasha?" you asked blankly.

Fury sighed again, thankful that you were finally listening to him. "Listen to what he has to say."

"What does he have to say?"

"It's better coming from him. I don't know everything and I know you'll have a lot of questions. Most of them stupid."

Gritting your teeth, you exhaled deeply. "Fine... I'll talk to him."

"Thank, God."

"You gonna set up a meeting for us?"

"No need." Fury smiled."What do you-?" Suddenly you screamed, plummeting down the portal that just materialised on the seat of your chair.

"Now we're playing with portals!" Wade joked.

Fury shook his head, picking up his drink. "I hate you."

"So... what is the story with your eye?"

"Go fuck yourself, Wilson."

"Well, if you insist."

***

Permanent Tag List:

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @natasha-danvers, @marvelfansince08love

#original work #original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

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honney-boy · 4 years ago

Text

Wonder (Part 1)

Rudy Pankow x Oc!Reader

gif by → @riobeth

Wonder Series Masterlist | Wonder Playlist

Chapter summary: Rudy and Nevaeh meet in person for the first time and things aren’t awkward. Yougurt cups, bananas and ice blended in a cup and maple syrup.

Full Summary and Story Concept

Warning(s): language, shenanigans, jet laggness, social media zombies, teenage girls

Words: 5k+

A/N: This is my first attempt at a Rudy fic. My first series too! But if this flops, let's pretend it never happened, okay? :) But If you guys want to read more, please do let me know. Your love and support is the encouragement I need. I got the concept from tik tok haha. Fair warning, I am handwriting out chapters with a pen and paper before converting it digitally, so updates with be spread out. THERE WILL BE GRAMMAR MISTAKES! I'm human, and Tumblr is my test run for this series. Anywho, hope you enjoy :)

taglist

One | “Social Zombies”

In Nevaeh's opinion, airports were the worst. It wasn't due to the 38,000 feet in the air flying ride or the nothingness in the sky you see your whole flight; it was the people, the airports themselves, and the limited space.

Airports were much worse than flying - especially the San Francisco International Airport. Also known as SFO Airport. The few times, literally very few times, Nevaeh has been to the airport, she had poor experiences. Now, SFO Airport is definitely smaller than LAX and not as busy - it's a nightmare. You would think with a much smaller airport, there would be fewer crowds, but no, it's like a family reunion every day but with strangers. If you bump into the wrong person, your day on the off chance will get ruined.

Along with the busy crowds, there are many places to eat. From pizza to Italian to pie, your choices are endless. That's until half or more restaurants are closed or have long lines. Nevaeh never ate airport food, so she couldn't give her opinion on it. She'll leave that to the professional reviews. She wasn't at SFO Airport to judge the food or traffic flow, not even the staff's attitude - except she already gave a flight attendant a glare. The flight attendant took a bathroom break before their next flight and griped at Nevaeh because she used the last paper towel so they couldn't dry their hands. Air drying is a thing, and it works well, she thought to herself while leaving the restroom. She was not going to let one grumpy flight attendant ruin her great mood. She was going to meet someone who she hopes is special today.

Over the past two months, Nevaeh and this person had gotten to know each other well, virtually, that is. They met online, and Nevaeh lived in San Francisco while they lived in Alaska. Countless messages, facetime calls, photos, and videos were exchanged, and a bond was formed. Who would have thought that two people could meet through a video sharing social media app and hit it off? Most people start with dating apps, meet and get to know different people, but Nevaeh met them all because a video of hers popped up on their for you page.

Nevaeh created and shared a variety of things on the app. From cooking to creating and her little hobby of disco skating. She wanted to keep her followers and supporters entertained and herself; she didn’t want to be stuck, making the same content, so she did many things. Nevaeh thought maybe one of her disco skating, videography, or cooking videos drew them in, but it was one of her mini vlogs. In the video, she showed how she would scout places before spending the day getting footage for a short montage film or scenes for a movie she is working on. Not long after the discovery, they - he sent her a message asking about a more in-depth explanation of her process, and it went up from there.

Now, after all this time of them chatting back and forth, they get to meet. Nevaeh gets to meet him.

Standing by the arrival gate, her eyes bouncing around the room at different things just to keep her mind centered and not all over the place. She wanted to pick at her nails, or hold her hands to her chest but she couldn’t hold them in place for long; she opted for playing with the white beaded bracelet he bought and sent to her in a box full of other things. It was so sweet of him; just thinking about the box she received makes her smile and her heart swell. Just last week she received a box full of thoughtful gifts. Inside were some of her favorite snacks, a movie she loved, one of his hoodies - it was the hoodie he wore the first time they facetimed. The hoodie was one of his favorites, but he had the urge to send it to her, he just wanted her to have it. And finally was the white beaded bracelet with a single aqua blue bead on it - he had the matching one with all aqua beads and one single black bead. She was having an uncreative and pretty shitty day until that box arrived on the front door step of her shared apartment.

“I wanted to surprise you, so I messaged Birdie asking her for your favorite snacks, I added the hoodie and got the two of us distance bracelets. You know, because we are long distance.” He told her later that day when they talked on the phone.

“Until you come here, or I go there,” she replied. She hasn’t stopped wearing the hoodies since and she has had the bracelet on since the moment she got it.

Nevaeh watched different people walk past her; none of them were him yet. The dirty blond mess he sported for hair shouldn't be that hard to miss, but the longer she searched, the more she doubted her assumption.

It was another couple of minutes that went by, and she didn't see him, so she pulled her phone out to see if he had sent something. Maybe he has to catch a different flight, and he forgot to tell her, or perhaps he didn't want to meet after all. Her fingers type out a message to send, but a figure stands in front of her before she hits the send button. Nevaeh could see the shadow of their body from her peripheral vision, but she did not look up, hoping they would go away - but they didn't. Sending her message, the woman was preparing to turn away until she heard the stranger's phone go off. It's just a coincidence that their phone went off a couple of seconds after I sent a message. She said to herself, then she looked up and there he was. Dirty blond hair - a little long all over, but instead of it being in his face like it always is, it was pushed back and tucked underneath a red cap. His eyes were more lovely in person. The pair ranged from a light blue to gray, depending on the day. Today they were light blue. He sported stubble across his chin and cheeks with a blond mustache above his top lip. He wore nothing flashy, just a simple red ACDC sweatshirt, cargo shorts, and a pair of vans. He looked tired, but that didn't throw off the good vibes and smile he had going on. She couldn't help but smile back. He's here in the flesh. Rudy.

"Hi," he said light-heartedly, breaking the silence.

"Hi," she echoed; the smile on her face grew some more. "Wow, you're really here in the flesh."

He chuckled, and the sound woke up the butterflies in her stomach. "Yeah, I am. And you...the pictures and videos don't do enough justice for the actual thing." His eyes scan over her, noticing the navy blue Hilfiger sweatshirt he sent to her. Nevaeh couldn't help the dust of blush that appeared on her cheek.

“Talk about me, what about you? Who knew those Snapchat filters were hiding such a god-like person.”

“Oh, stop, you’re making me blush,” he joked while bashful. No matter online or in person, Nevaeh was still able to get him flushed; it was something he didn’t want to admit, not while he was flying blind with this.

Nevaeh smiled and had a tiny giggle; the full laugh was muffled by the hand she brought up to her mouth in an attempt to hold the sound back. He could watch her smile for a while. Is that weird? “How was your flight? I hope it wasn’t too horrible.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” he admitted. “Definitely long, but nothing a pair of earbuds, music, and a couple of movies couldn’t fix.” The two quickly began walking toward the direction of baggage claim. More of Rudy just following whichever direction Nevaeh was going. She did know the airport better anyway.

“Which movies did you watch?” she asked.

“Since I had six hours to waste - Joker, 1917 and Pride & Prejudice.”

“Oh, I see you listened to my suggestions; not surprised you watched Joker again,” Rudy shrugged his shoulders with a hum. “I’m surprised you didn’t watch the Harry Potter movies.”

Rudy rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Actually, I already watched them a couple of days ago,” Nevaeh hummed as if she were to say, ‘of course’ “You can judge me all you want. I won’t pay you any mind. Just the same as I did with the guy that had the aisle seat in my row. I guess other guys find it weird that a guy decided to watch a period drama on a flight.”

“He was just jealous he didn’t think of it first. Mr. Darcy’s pinning for Miss. Bennett and the film’s overarching theme is too good not to watch.”

“That it is, who would want to miss the warnings heeded against trusting one’s first impression or prejudices?”

“Or the character arcs that grow throughout the storyline. I pity that aisle sitting man.”

“I do too,” Rudy agreed. “He missed out on a classic and had to get up to let the other person and me out to take a tinkle.” He did it again. He made her laugh genuinely. The conversation between them flowed. The small worry Nevaeh had earlier about the two of them not being able to continue the light-hearted and enjoyable nature they had over text had diminished. He seemed just the same - goofy, charismatic, charming, and caring - as he was over the phone the past month and a half. She, too, was still kind, compassionate, and sarcastic as before. Yet both of them had their own doubts about the thing they were doing; they didn’t know what it was or where it was headed, but they were willing to find out.

In the car, Nevaeh drove the route she knew from the airport to her shared apartment. Rudy sat in the passenger seat; his gaze focused out the window, watching the San Francisco scenery appear, disappear and morph as they passed by the window. The radio played while they sat in a comfortable silence - it impressed her how easily they fell into it. Wasn't it common for an uncomfortable silence? Two people who just met for the first time should struggle in an attempt to make a conversation, but not them.

To Rudy, the comfortable silence was almost expected. Granted, he did expect one of them to talk the other's ear off - he's glad neither of them was. The six-hour flight took its effect on the man, but he wasn't going to let his fatigue ruin the time they had together. He'll rest later. Spend time with her now, sleep later.

The car rolled to a stop, a red light shined on the traffic light hanging in front of them. Rudy's eyes watch a girl across the street riding down the sidewalk on a skateboard. Her stance relaxed, feet planted in a way that helped her ride easily; she was experienced, probably skated regularly. Watching her skate triggered a longing in Rudy for his board back at home. He rides on concrete and in the snow, but he was missing snowboarding the most. It was beginning to be summer, so the temperatures in Alaska were warmer. To warm for snow but warm enough for the evergreen to take over. Now he was in California, the state that was sunny all the time. The state that thrived in the summer and its soil hardly ever to never had the chilled touch of snow. His longing grew more for the chilly weather and white flakes.

The woman sitting next to him took the next couple of seconds between the light change to look at him. Catching the moment of his gaze out the window of her jeep. "I know you're probably tired from your flight. I had some ideas about the things we could do, but we don't have to do anything today." She spoke and after, glanced at the traffic light only to see it was still red.

Rudy tore his gaze from the distant image of the skater and met Nevaeh's. "I am, but if you want to do something, we can. I'm more than happy to hang out." He said.

Trying to reason, she said, "I know, but you just got off a six-hour flight."

"Nevaeh, it's fine. I'm not that burned out. Time zones are an hour apart, and seven am isn't that bad." she begins to give him a skeptical look. She heard his words but feels as if he was only saying that to make her happy. He sat by her, leaned back, and relaxed. His head sat lazily against the headrest, and the smile he was giving her was light but tiresome. She switched her gaze from him to the traffic light, which turned green, and she didn't know when. Nevaeh eased her foot off the brake and to the gas pedal. "Seriously, we can do something."

“Fine,” She says after a moment. “I won’t wear you out too much more.” Flicking her left turn signal on after checking her mirror, she merges into the lane beside her. “There’s somewhere I wanna take you - well, maybe two places, but we’re going to the apartment first.”

“Alright, sounds good to me.” Nevaeh drove them to the apartment she shared with her long term friend. Rudy followed behind her as she led the way; they only spent a few minutes there. After a short tour, a bathroom break, and dropping off a couple of suitcases later, Rudy and Nevaeh left the place. They began a walk along the San Francisco hills to the mysterious place Nevaeh had in mind.

“This place is somewhere I walk to every other day. It’s Birdie’s and my favorite place.” It was a short six to eight-minute walk. Nevaeh reassured him before briefly going into a conversation about the impressive things you see in the city. Just like Nevaeh told him, they both come up upon a corner shop with a couple of large windows to see inside and out, a brown exterior with outside tables with green umbrellas and foldable outdoor chairs. The corner shop was known as the Nasik Cafe. For a small cafe, the place was doing well. There were a handful of people inside sitting, chatting, or ordering and quite a few sitting outside.

“This place is pretty health-oriented, and like Starbucks, it has things you could make at home for free, but their stuff is great,” Nevaeh explained to the man.

"So you spend way too much on yogurt cups, fruit drinks, toast, and other food you can make at home?" She nods her head like it was evident at what he said. Rudy shook his head. "Couldn't you just spend ten dollars on a yogurt cup?"

"Oh my goodness, they don't have yogurt cups, Rudy." She shook her head in disbelief.

"Okay, so ten dollars for a banana blended with ice in a cup - still sounds ridiculous to me."

"I can't with you," She tilted her head back, but she wasn't annoyed. She found his witticism amusing. At this rate, Nevaeh should prepare to always smile all the time around him. "You should find a table out here, and I can grab us something - wait, do you want to sit out here?"

Rudy nodded, then began to scan the area but only briefly seeing a couple of empty tables. "Yeah, it's nice out, let's enjoy it. Out here is great."

"Great," she says, pleased. "I'll grab something; I wanna surprise you. I'll be back." Nevaeh turns to walk inside. The smell of strawberries, oranges, and granola invaded her nose. It wasn't a new smell to her, but a new one for the day. She would always smell fruit and granola wherever she would walk into Basik. Some days it smelt like bananas and chocolate, or honey, peanut butter, and coconut. The smells varied, but the most prominent one was the tropical smell. To her left at a table was a couple enjoying smoothies. Both cops were a little under half full. A person sat at another table, invested in their laptop. To her right, more people sat. Art adorns the walls as realism paintings along with abstract images. There was a line at the counter; no more than four people stood waiting. She took the time to look up at the big and wide wood board hanging from the ceiling. When Nevaeh told Rudy she wanted to surprise him with something, she knew what she was getting for the both of them. The colorful and fruitful acai bowls.

Nevaeh and her roommate Birdie loved acai bowls. Birdie was the one to introduce her friend to the fantastic bowls she grew to love. Now it was her turn to turn another friend onto them.

The line moved along smoothly and grew smaller by the minutes. Once Nevaeh got closer, her lips stretched into a grin as her eyes caught sight of the barista.

"Hi, what can I get you? Could I interest you in our new fall to-Vae! Hey." the blonde barista's mood brightened significantly when she realized she was taking Nevaeh's order. She leaned across the counter and grabbed hold of Nevaeh's hand, and laced their fingers together. "What are you doing here? I thought you had to pick up your friend." She said, then making finger quotations. The barista was her roommate, Birdie. Birdie was a full-time college student and full-time barista to get by. She was more than happy to talk to her friend now that she wasn't as busy - Nevaeh was the only person in line for now.

"I was - I did pick up my friend. No air quotes, we're friends."

"For now."

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes at the blonde. "He's here with me, just outside." Birdie looked past Nevaeh and out the window in search of this guy. Nevaeh looked around for him, too; she didn't get to see where he chose to sit. "He's...the one with the red cap, right there." She pointed out once she spotted him. Birdie hummed and squinted her eyes to get a better look, which was difficult with the angle he sat at.

"He looks nice...from here," Birdie leaned back, so her fingers could let go of Nevaeh's and tap the terminal screen as she put her friend's usual order in. While Birdie did that, Nevaeh nodded in agreement but kept her gaze on him. "Lemme guess, the usual?"

"Kilauea; everything but-"

"No pollen and extra honey." Birdie finished with assuredness and not a drop of doubt in her answer. Her friend smiled, her eyes looking to Birdie with amazement.

"You know me too well."

"Well, you order the same thing almost every time."

"Touche," she couldn't argue with that. When it came to her acai bowl, she liked the Kilauea - made with mango juice, granola, berries, papaya, honey, and acai - the best. "And water, of course - make that two." She stepped back to look over the menu. Rudy wasn't familiar with the place, and he didn't know what they served, so Nevaeh wanted to get him something he hopefully liked. She decided to go with something not too fancy - directing her attention back to her barista friend. She went ahead and finished her order. "And...let me get the Islander acai bowl." That one was made with hemp mylk, granola, banana, berries, cocoa shavings, and honey.

Birdie rang up the rest of the order for Nevaeh. After catching a glimpse at the total, Nevaeh reached in the little card pocket of her wallet and grabbed her card. Unbeknownst to her, while she was getting her card, Birdie took her name tag and gave her friend her employee discount - she got it for half the price.

“I know you’re an independent woman and paying for the first date, the least I could do is give you a discount. Just don’t tell Daniel.” She winked, and Nevaeh gave her a thumbs up with one hand, and with the other, she made a zipping and locking motion over her mouth before throwing the key.

Outside, Rudy sat at the table he picked out for the two of them while waiting. While Nevaeh ran inside to get their order, he observed the small San Francisco scenery around him. California weather was sunshine with fluffy clouds. Just about everyone was either in shorts, a tank, and a cut-off shirt or any other summer clothing that provided them some comfort in the blazing sun. He dressed just right for the weather, though in Alaska, it was more on the chill side, causing him to wear a sweatshirt while he left. Now that he was basking in the California weather, he took off the warm sweatshirt and left it at Nevaeh’s apartment.

There were other people outside along with him. A group of girls sat a few feet away at a table in front of him, trying not to giggle as they attempted to make a video. At another table, there were two guys, perhaps brothers. They were eating something colorful from a bowl - it looked like yogurt to Rudy - and having a conversation with one another.

Rudy shook his head at the drastic difference between the two tables. Maybe it was just him, but it was amazing how much the world - more specifically America- was wrapped up in technology and social media. Sure the brothers at the one table had digital watches that told them the time and lit up, catching their attention with a vibrate when a text or notification went to their phone. But at least they could carry on a conversation without having their phone in their hands. On the other hand, those girls haven’t put their phones down longer than a few seconds. After those seconds, they tap away or show the other something they thought was worthy enough to gauge a reaction out of them.

Rudy wasn't one to judge. He didn't have much right to because while watching them and waiting for Nevaeh, he had the urge to pull out his phone. It was almost like a habit, but he chooses not to feed the temptation. He wanted to enjoy the day with Nevaeh; notice the burn on his skin from the sun, get to know her, have fun, pick up on little cues she has, and find out what he likes the most about her. And though it was kind of ironic that the two of them met through social media, he hopes Nevaeh is not one of those social zombies. Then this trip would be a waste of time and effort.

Ruby pulled his sunglasses down due to the sun starting to bother his eyes. Then he also wanted to cover his eyes and focus on something else while he waited. A minute later, Nevaeh walked out of the cafe's door backward with her back pushing the door open. In her hands, she had what she ordered; he wondered what she got. Rudy briskly stood up out of his seat to help her out.

"Hey, let me help you out," he walks around the table towards her, but she only nods him off.

"I got it, you sit."

"You have all the food and drinks in your hands; it's the least I can do." he stood off to the side, not interfering but reading despite what she said. He watches her struggle a bit and almost drops the stuff. Rudy immediately reached out, but Nevaeh had already saved herself and looked at him with a smile.

"I got it, Rudy. I was just pulling your leg." He picked up on the playfulness in her eyes, which made him pull his lips into a smile matching hers; her smile is definitely contagious.

“Alright, alright,” he raised his hands, backing away and then taking his seat. Nevaeh took her seat across from him, sat everything down before passing him the items she got him. “What’d you get us?”

“Well, I don’t know if you have had this before, but it’s my go-to thing to get here. It’s an acai bowl,” Nevaeh’s eyes caught his confused expression before he tried to cover it up with an understanding. She laughed softly and explained further. “It’s like a smoothie bowl with other things in it.”

“Smoothie bowl…” he murmured more to himself, but she still heard it.

Shaking her head, she continued. “Acai palm is the main ingredient along with bananas and granola, but you can add other fruits or peanut butter and syrups. Or take things off.”

“Like maple syrup?” he asked, looking at the acai bowl she got him.

Her face begins to twist in disgust until she covers it with a shrug and looks down at her bowl, ready to dig in. “Uh, I guess if that’s what you want, then yeah.” She answered, and Rudy nodded his head and grabbed his spoon to take a taste. Before Nevaeh tasted her own, she watched Rudy, waiting for his reaction. He took a bite, letting the flavor invade his taste buds.

“Wow, this is good,” He says after swallowing. He glanced up, catching Nevaeh already looking at him. She quickly looked away and stirred her bowl.

“I’m glad you like it; it’s my second favorite one,” she peeked back up, and Rudy was still looking at her. Laughing softly to herself, then shaking her head, she takes a bite of her own, almost moaning at the taste. “I’m surprised you haven’t had one before.”

“ I have wanted to try one, but never really went with actually going out to get one.”

“Well, maybe now you will get them more often,” She says but stops herself before taking another bite. “Wait...you aren’t allergic to any fruit, are you? Or granola?”

He lifted a brow while getting another scoop. “Oh, only bananas,” He replies. Nevaeh watches him as he lifts the spoon to his mouth and takes another bite that includes bananas before she could reach across the table and stop him in time. “What?” he looked at her. Her eyes were wide with shock and fear, her mouth opening to say something but closed when nothing came out. “Is there something wrong?”

Nodding her head slowly, she sat down her spoon and reached for her phone in her pocket just in case. "You ate a banana, and you just told me you were allergic to them." Nevaeh wanted to yell at him for being so careless, but that would mean she was too for not asking before ordering something random for him. She pretended to remain calm but was internally panicking.

"I actually eat them all the time," he held back the smile easing its way into his features. "I eat them quite often. They're a great source of potassium and vitamin C."

"So you aren't allergic to bananas?" she noted, and Rudy shook his head. His mouth broke out into the smile he managed to hold back for a few seconds. Nevaeh relaxed a bit, her shoulders dropping as she was no longer tense. "You're an asshole, you know that, right?" Rudy gasped softly, a hand placed on his chest as he looked at her, offended at her comment.

"What, me, an asshole? That can't be right, I'm really nice," he said and made Nevaeh huffed. "What do you not believe me?"

The woman shrugged, the smile still on her face when she looked down at her food. "Well, you did play a mean joke just now; I thought I almost killed you." She reminded him and picked at her bowl.

"I wanted to see how caring you were, and you passed the test. Now you love me, don't you?"

"You wish," she said, taking a bite then pointing at him with her spoon. "We're going on a road trip together, let's see if I survive that, then I'll let you know if I like you enough to be your friend or jump out of a moving car because you're an annoying little shit."

Rudy raised his eyebrows, smirking at her now. "Me being an annoying little...alright. Let's make a deal," he starts; Nevaeh gestures for him to continue. "If you survive this road trip, meaning - if you have a great time - I get to take you to my home town in Alaska. Ah, ah. I'm not finished." he held his finger up to stop her from making a comment. She rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, attempting to hide a simple, but you could see the amusement on her face. "If you don't have a great time, I'll do whatever you want."

"So, If I understand right, If you win, you get to take me to Alaska - assuming I haven't been there already,"

“Wait, you’ve been to Alaska?” Nevaeh held her finger up, echoing his movements moments before.

“If you win, you take me to Alaska, and if I win, you do whatever I want, correct?”

“Yeah, as long as it’s not too inappropriate or impossible,” He says, already finished with his acai bowl, which Nevaeh didn’t remember seeing him eat the rest. It didn’t matter when he ate it, she didn’t care, but that was quick. Looking down at her own, she wasn’t more than halfway done. “So, so we have a deal?”

Nevaeh looked up from her food, meeting his ocean-like eyes. The pair were becoming more familiar over the past few weeks from countless photos and videos the two have shared over Snapchat. Messages over text and facetime calls. They got to know each other digitally, and now they have to learn more in person.

“We have a deal.” She says, and Rudy sticks his hand out, which she gladly took. They shook hands. While doing so, Rudy thought of a million possibilities to get the woman across from him to a great time and not just so he could take her to Alaska, his home. He found her intriguing, and he wants to take the time to get to know her better and maybe have a solid standing friendship at the end of it all. If the cosmos had a say, perhaps something more would blossom.

➣ End Note:

So, I honestly don’t know how the next few or future chapters will go but hopefully they turn out well. Here are the Revaeh interactions we all needed and plenty more to come so just you wait. ;)

AGAIN IF YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE THE SERIES I WILL, JUST LET ME KNOW.

Wonder Taglist:

@Scooby6, @ifilwtmfc, @rudypankowswife, @themaddies-obx

[If your username is bold and slashed out it means i can’t tag you. If you want to be added to the taglist add yourself here! If you no longer want to be on it let me know. :) ]

#rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow x oc #rudy pankow series #rudy pankow fanfiction #wonder series #rudy pankow au #Outer Banks #outer banks netflix #roadtrip story #tik tok dating

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the-blue-fairie · 4 years ago

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I think one of the reasons Show Yourself doesn’t resonate for me as much as it should is that the song frames itself as offering Elsa emotional closure... but then it doesn’t really follow through on offering that closure.

Let me say up front, I realize that my feelings are colored by my complicated relationship with the way Agnarr and Iduna are portrayed in F2. I know I’ve talked about this ad nauseum, but for anyone who may not have seen those posts, let me give a quick overview: I love Agnarr and Iduna. I find them sympathetic and richly complex. But I don’t like the way F2 brushes aside the part they played in fostering Elsa’s self-hatred and Anna’s struggles with isolation. That’s not because I want to demonize them or anything. They were put in a heartbreaking situation and made bad choices while trying to do what was best. Some have suggested that F2 had to brush aside the parents’ mistakes because that would make them look bad, but things like Dangerous Secrets have shown that you can discuss their actions in Elsa’s and Anna’s childhoods while still portraying them sympathetically - and that actually enriches the narrative instead of deterring from it.

But, because F2 brushes aside Agnarr’s and Iduna’s actions when Elsa and Anna were children, it leaves “a gap in the text” as I’ve called it in the past, meaning that Show Yourself can’t land for me the way it must have been intended to land.

Friends of mine, and also animation critics on Youtube that I’ve watched, have discussed how Show Yourself gives Elsa emotional closure with her mother, allowing Iduna to give Elsa affirmation and allowing Elsa the relief of that affirmation. But the thing is... it doesn’t give Elsa (or Anna, not present in Ahtohallan) closure for what happened to them as children. The film bends over backwards not to address what happened to the sisters as children. It doesn’t give Elsa the chance to process how the decisions that her parents made hurt her and come to terms with that, presumably by accepting that her parents were human beings seeking to do good, but put in a devastating crisis. And again, my wish that the sisters got a chance to process how their parents’ actions hurt them doesn’t mean I want them to hate their parents or condemn them. Processing doesn’t have to mean condemnation or judgment - and a sympathetic look at Agnarr’s and Iduna’s actions could create compelling parallels with Elsa being forced to make hard choices in F2. I just want... acknowledgment. I want the sisters to be able to get that closure. And so far, I haven’t been able to see that. Dangerous Secrets is beautiful, but it’s told from Agnarr’s and Iduna’s perspectives. I’ve praised Frozen Fever in the past for allowing Elsa and Anna a space to directly address the pain of the past and heal from it, but even that short doesn’t really touch on the root of the sisters’ trauma.

And I guess that’s part of why Show Yourself is a bit thorny for me. It frames itself as giving Elsa closure, giving Elsa relief... but it doesn’t give Elsa closure for something she desperately needs closure on.

It positions itself as a mother reaching out to a daughter - and that’s a beautiful concept, don’t mistake me, a beautiful moment - but it brushes aside the complicated circumstances that both mother and daughter had to endure in their lives. Instead of meditating on the history between them and using that history to build an even richer connective tissue between the films, it goes for the abstract.

There’s a post I reblogged ages ago that suggested that Agnarr and Iduna stand in for the idea of a father and mother in F2, rather than the complex characters that the first film showed them to be and rather than fully exploring the complex history between them and their daughters. And while I don’t agree with everything that post said - it was far more critical of Agnarr and Iduna as people than I am - I do agree with that particular sentiment.

Maybe I’m sensitive to this because I’ve been hurt by my own family, and so the pain the sisters went through for thirteen years hits especially close to home for me. Maybe that’s why I keep returning to what I call this “gap in the text.” Maybe, because I identify so much with Elsa during those years of isolation, I’m sensitive to things that ignore that her behavior in the first film was learned - taught to her by her parents who I know had good intentions, who I know loved her, but which hurt her in the end. It makes little things that wouldn’t bother anybody else nag at me - maybe because I’ve seen people blame Elsa completely for the childhood separation in the past, maybe because I’m still kind of in the position Elsa was in during her youth and I know how it hurts. Things like the line, “I have always been a fortress, cold secrets deep inside.” No, you haven’t. You haven’t always been a fortress. You weren’t a fortress as a little girl, Elsa. You were open and vibrant and free. You had to learn that - from circumstance, from life, and yes, from the misguided decisions of the parents who loved you and wanted to protect you (also let’s please not ignore the trolls’ part in all this either).

The thing that gets to me too is that, on its own, Show Yourself is transcendentally beautiful and, while I’ve spent this post critiquing, there are so many good elements in F2. Even the concept of a mother reaching out to her daughter is, as I’ve said in this very post beautiful and with a little more focus on the complexities of what Elsa and her parents actually went through, it could be all the more resonant. (Also, the deleted scene of Anna getting to see her parents is beautiful and should have been included - though, if I may fall back into critique mode again, it also kind of brushes aside the fact that Agnarr and Iduna’s choices helped to shape Elsa and frames them as more benevolently wise... even though it’s still so much more poignant for me than what we get in the finished film.) You can see fragments of greatness in F2 and it’s clear the filmmakers approached the film with a lot of love, and I wish the film could coalesce better for me... But the lack of reflection on Elsa’s and Anna’s childhoods still feels like a blind spot for me (or, if not a blind spot, a deliberate choice by the filmmakers that does a disservice to the complexity of their characters and the pain they went through - and a choice that stings for me as someone still going through a similar kind of pain in the closet.)

I’m sorry that this post got so long. I meant it to only be a few sentences of musing, but when you start to speak from the heart, I guess your heart pours forth. I hope people don’t feel I’m being unfair in my reflection. As with all my posts, I did all I could to be even-handed, fair, considerate of different perspectives. I hope that shone through.

#frozen

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illfoandillfie · 5 years ago

Text

5 Simple Rules for a Successful Fake Relationship: One Small Hitch

READ PART 1

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

summery: You and Ben have your first official date and settle into your "relationship". But, with filming coming to a close, you'll need to be more committed to the act than before, especially when Ben's keeping secrets.

Warnings: Again, nothing much. Some language. Drinking. Nothing else I can think of.

Words: 8355

AN: Chapter 2 is finally here! Sorry for the delay but hopefully the next part will be up faster. I'm really really enjoying writing this series and I am so very excited about what's coming! The song mentioned is Reckless Serenade by Arctic Monkeys. Sidenote: Can anyone work out the theme of the chapter titles?

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie

“I’ve got something for you,” you half shouted at Ben when you saw him walking towards you from across the field you were filming in. You shuffled your shitty takeaway coffee into your other hand so you could reach into your bag, pulling out a piece of paper folded in half. He took it and pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Funny cause I have something for you too,” Ben said as he let you go, reaching into his backpack and handing you a magazine, “Oh, shit, it’s our rules. You want page 15 by the way.” “Figured you’d want a record of them. What exactly am I looking f-” you let the word hang as you found the right page. It was decorated with a photo of you and Ben kissing on his doorstep, his hand around your back, the shirt you’d borrowed riding up just enough that it was clear you didn’t have shorts on underneath as you clutched at him. There was some text beside it, mentions of your most notable roles and his, a brief description of the movie you were in the process of making, and some speculatory remarks with a couple of innuendos thrown in. The usual gossip mag fare. On the other side of the paragraph was another photo, both of you leaving set the previous Friday, hand in hand and smiling. “We look pretty good together,” you laughed, getting only a noncommittal grunt in return. He’d suddenly become very interested in the sheet you’d handed him, staring at it like he hadn’t been there when it was written. You reread the brief article, trying not to gawk at the photographs. It certainly looked believable. “I’ve had about four people wish us well this morning,” Ben suddenly said, seemingly pulling himself together, folding up the rules and shoving them into his back pocket, “and I’ve not been here long. It’s kinda weird having everyone know we’re together. Or think we’re together,” he quickly corrected himself. “Yeah, Mel kept asking me questions about it while she was doing my makeup this morning, so I hope she took my awkwardness as me wanting to keep things private and not me not knowing how to answer some of them.” Ben chuckled, “yeah, Gail gave me a bit of a grilling too. I just told her we’d been sort of seeing each other for a few weeks and had only just like made it official or whatever and she seemed to buy it.” “Good, I told Mel the same sort of thing. Hopefully that’s enough for them.” “I’m more concerned with what my friends are going to say. I don’t think any of them read Heat though so hopefully it doesn’t come up any time soon,” “Lucky. My friend Felicity has the dumb site bookmarked. Checks it religiously. Bloody miracle she hasn’t called yet.” “Better turn of your phone then,” “And come back to a full voicemail and about a hundred texts demanding to know why I’m ghosting her?” “Tell her you were filming. I do it all the time,” he was grinning at you and you couldn’t help but grin back as you pulled your phone out and shut it off, “atta girl,” he pulled you into his side and gave you an affectionate squeeze that you leaned into , fully aware of how many people were around you, potentially watching. It was a feeling that didn’t really let up. You knew, rationally, that everyone there was focused on their jobs, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were constantly being scrutinised, and not just for your acting. It didn’t help when Seth had to stop recording to fix a problem with the boom mic and, good-humouredly, said, “don’t worry lovebirds, we’ll have her running in a second.” Or that one of the ADs delivered your call sheets for the next day with a, “I always thought you’d be cute together.” And it certainly didn’t help when you turned your phone on at the end of the day to find a series of texts from Felicity each with more exclamation points and capital letters than the last, and a missed call from Mary. “Better call her back,” Ben said, following you towards the carpark. You rolled your eyes, already holding the phone up to your ear listening to it ring. “Y/N, I was just about to try you again,” “Sorry, Mary, I had my phone off while we were recording, what’s the matter?” “Are you free this weekend?” “Um yeah, I think so, why?” “We’d like for you and Ben to go on a date this weekend. Somewhere in London preferably but it’s up to you. You saw the article in Heat? It seems to be going well. The hits your names have got on google have increased and there have been a few tweets about it. Nothing huge, you’re not trending or anything but you’re still relatively unknown so we weren’t expecting that to happen, certainly not overnight. But we think if we get a date story out quickly it’ll really help get people interested.” You rubbed your temple as you tried to process everything she’d just said, “Okay, I’ll talk to him and we’ll organise something. I’ll text you the details once I have them.” “Okay, let me know as soon as you can though. And send Peter the info too.” “Will do. See ya Mary.” “Was that about me?” Ben asked, smiling as he leaned against your car. “You up for a date this weekend? Apparently the first story went well and they want a follow up ASAP.” “Sure, where are we going?” “I don’t know, somewhere around London would apparently be best, but we get to choose. Any thoughts?” He thought for a moment, “This isn’t our first date is it? Like, we’ve said we’ve been on others before, right?” “Yeah, why?” “Well normally for a first date I take girls out for dinner and then, depending on the girl and how the dinner went, either a quiet drink or like a romantic as fuck walk in the park or something.” “That’s pretty standard stuff, Ben,” “Yeah, but in the fiction of us as a couple, this isn’t our first date. This’d be, what?” “Fifth maybe?” “Fifth. So I’m still trying to impress you a bit, but it’s like, more relaxed. We’ve done the dinner date, we’ve done coffee and a movie, we’ve even done the Museum. Now we’re getting into the fun shit.” “Museums don’t count as fun shit?” you chuckled, not sure where his train of thought was taking you. “It’s a bit overdone is all.” “What do you have in mind then?” “There’s this place that runs art classes during the day, right? Life drawing or like painting for beginner's type stuff. But a couple of nights a week they run these art and wine nights. They’ll give you a canvas or a ceramic figure or something like that and some paints and you can have a few drinks and do something arty. I did it with some mates a while ago, had heaps of fun. Seemed like the sort of thing yo- a girl might like to do on a date.” “That definitely sound fun.” “Really? You’re into it?” “Yeah, for sure.” “Okay,” Ben pulled out his phone and began typing, “shall I book us in for the Saturday night ceramics session?” “Go ahead. What time was that, so I can let Mary and Peter know.” “Seven thirty. If we get a cab in a little earlier we can grab something to eat on our way.” “Cool, okay I’ll text them. Is it BYO?” “Yeah. They do sell some stuff but it’s a pretty small selection.” “Okay, well that’s something to look forward to. Anyway, I should be going since I have about a million texts to sort through, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Wait, one thing,” Ben said before you could open your car door, “There’s a few people coming off set now so I’m going to kiss you, okay?” “Thanks for the heads up,” “No worries,” he stepped closer, his hand rising to cup your cheek as he kissed you softly. He took longer to break away than you’d expected, letting the kiss deepen instead, but you didn’t mind too much. It was a good kiss. And if it hadn’t been for Ben and the movie, you would have been severely lacking them recently. Which explained the vague feeling of disappointment that hit you when he did step back.

On your way home your phone beeped with another text from Felicity but you ignored it until you were inside and changed into the comfiest clothes you could find, flopping down on your bed to scroll through what she’d written. They varied from, “omg why didn’t you tell me about this Ben guy?” to “Y/N!!! Answer my texts!!!” all the way up to, “BITCH!!! CALL ME!!!!” She picked up on the first ring. “Where the fuck have you been all day?” “Some of us don’t have office jobs we hate,” you laughed, “I actually had to work, funnily enough, and because we were on location I had to keep my phone off while we recorded.” “Well I’ve been going crazy over here. Imagine my shock when I boot up my computer and open Heat and see your fucking arse being grabbed by your co-star.” “He was not grabbing my arse.” “Close enough. You didn’t tell me how fucking gorgeous he is.” “No, well, I don’t usually think about the people I work with like that, do I?” “Which is why I was so surprised to see you’ve shacked up with one of them.” “It’s not quite that serious.” “One night stands aren’t your usual thing. Definitely not with guys you work with anyway.” “I never said it was a one night stand, just that it wasn’t super serious!” “How many times then?” “We’ve been on like four dates.” “You fuckhead! You mean to tell me you’re actually dating this guy, who by the way looks like he could be a fucking underwear model, and you didn’t think to tell me? No so much as a I got dicked down by a total babe aren’t you jealous message?” “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it if it wasn’t going to go anywhere.” “But still, I’m your best friend, I tell you about every shag I have.” “In graphic detail,” “Exactly.” “Look it’s just a bit weird still. Neither of us have really hooked up with a co-star before and we didn’t want to say anything until we worked out what was happening.” “I guess that makes sense,” you could tell she didn’t mean it, “But, now that it’s out you owe me. I want to hear all about it.” “There’s not much to tell. We became quite good friends during all the pre-production stuff when we were rehearsing and all that. Our director wanted to make sure we clicked and had the right chemistry and stuff, since it’s a romcom and our characters get engaged in the first scene, so we hung out a lot. And then just before filming started he asked me out. Took me to this nice Chinese restaurant. It was fun so we agreed to go out again and it’s sort of just kept going.” “Those photos, was that the first time you’d stayed over at his?” “Second. First time was a couple of weeks ago. The night that led to the photos was just a few drinks after work with some of the others and we ended up ducking out a bit early and wound up at his.” “And?” “And what?” You had a hard time not laughing when you heard her groan. Her eagerness to know every sordid detail made her easy to fuck with, and that made the whole business of being secretive a lot more fun. “And, how was he?” “I mean…y’know,” “Y/N, I swear to god,” “He was good, okay? Really good,” you remembered what Ben had told you to say, trying not to laugh too much while you repeated it, “like, three orgasms good.” “Shit, really?” “Uhuh. And then another in the morning.” Felicity replied with a long whistle, “shit, girl, hold onto that one then. That’s definitely worth any trouble working together could cause." “Believe me, I know. We’re going out again this weekend.” It was surprisingly easy to lie about dating Ben. Though, of course, you weren’t technically lying since you would be going on a date. “Shit man, date five. That’s serious shit. You better tell me everything, in graphic detail.”

When you told Ben about the conversation the next day, admitting you’d spent ages praising his sexual prowess, he laughed and then thanked you, pulling you into a tight bear hug. You thought it was a slight overreaction considering he’d been the one to tell you what to say but his happiness was infectious, and you found yourself smiling more than normal as you hung out between scenes. An attitude which could only help your performance, making people more ready to believe you were a couple. His easy laughter and bright smiles continued until the afternoon when you were telling him more about Felicity and what you’d talked about. “She thinks you’re a keeper and kept telling me not to let you go.” “Your friend knows what she’s talking about.” “Lucky for you I can’t let you go since it’s all written up in a contract,” Ben laughed but when you glanced at him his smile seemed to falter. “You okay?” “Brilliant. Just had a bit of a late night and it’s catching up on me. Think I might try to have a quick nap before we’re needed again.” “I was thinking of grabbing another coffee if you want one?” “Thanks Y/N but I think the nap will do me more good.” “Probably better people don’t see us heading off to a trailer together anyway or they’ll suspect we’re getting up to mischief.” “Very true. I’ll see you a bit later.” “Sleep well!” Ben turned to leave, his smile seeming more forced than earlier. You would have worried except he seemed to be back to normal when he was called for your next scene. And it continued on through the week, his happiness only getting more pronounced the closer it got to the weekend.

You couldn’t quite match his energy on Friday, anxiety over your date getting stronger the closer you got to it. Hanging out at his place had been easy, even if it did include leaving half dressed. All you’d had to do was kiss him which you’d done enough times during filming that it was no longer too odd. But a proper date was something else. It was going to be the first real test you faced, the first time you’d really have to sell yourselves to the public as more than co-stars and more than a hook-up. “Hey are you okay?” “Huh?” “Your jiggling your leg a lot which you only do when something’s worrying you, what is it?” “Oh,” you forced your leg to stop moving, “nothing,” “Is it about our date tonight?” “What if it’s bad? What if we don’t look like we’re actually together and Mary and Pete have to cancel the whole thing?” “I’d get a decent night sleep not thinking about us,” he muttered. “What?” “I’ve been worried about it too,” he said louder, “but I think we’ll be okay. It’s not like we’ll be starved for conversation and we’ll have the paint and the wine and we’ll be fine. Plus, weren’t you the one who said this would be easy?” “Yeah I was,” you said sheepishly, “but -” “No buts. It’ll be a piece of cake. We go and have a good time painting a couple of plates or bowls or whatever, and then hold hands while we head home. They’ll get whatever shots they get, and they’ll spin it so we look like a couple.” “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry,” “It’s okay,” he reached out to rub the back of your hand, smiling softly at you, “the nerves might actually help you look like you’re legit. And worst comes to worst we can always run lines. I’m honestly so much more nervous about shooting that scene tomorrow.” “The one where we’re playing matchmaker?” “Yes! Have you seen how many names are in there?” “Theres like six, Ben,” “Yeah but they’re all repeated, and I know I’m going to get the order wrong,” You giggled and shook your head, “You’re unbelievable,” “Oh whatever,” he pushed your shoulder almost making you overbalance, “Just cos you know the lines already.”

Ben’s efforts to calm you down worked and you got through the rest of the workday without a hitch. Though your stomach was once again tight with nerves in the hours before the date. You spent a solid half hour standing in front of your wardrobe, freshly washed hair slowly dripping down the back of the towel you had wrapped around you, trying to settle on what to wear. When you were finally dressed you checked and rechecked the contents of your purse, and, in a moment of panic, you grabbed the heavily highlighted and notated script pages with the matchmaker scene and shoved them in beside your lipstick and bank card. By the time Ben arrived in an Uber to pick you up, ushering you into the backseat with a kiss on the cheek and a complement about how lovely you looked, you felt like you were on the verge of throwing up. But, once again, Ben’s natural charm eased your mind. The way he talked to you and smiled constantly had your heart rate slowing and your stomach settling within minutes. Even the way he squeezed your hand when he helped you out of the car, and the way he laced his fingers with yours as he led you towards your destination were welcome comforts. “D’you wanna grab something to eat?” Ben asked, stopping on a corner and looking around, annoyed people passing by on both sides. “Uhh, s’pose so.” “Has anyone ever told you you’re indecisive?” “I swear I’m not normally.” “Oh? Do I make you nervous, snookum?” he asked, playfully. “No, you git,” you laughed back, though you found it hard to meet his eyes, “I just don’t know I’m that hungry.” “Well, keep in mind there’ll be wine drinking. Don’t want to do that on an empty stomach.” “Valid argument. What’s nearby?” After some wandering you ended up in a McDonalds, Ben wolfing down a burger while you picked at the fries, not quite certain you’d be able to keep your food down. It was when you were coming out of a bottle shop, Ben holding the wine you’d agreed on, that you spotted the photographer. It was the same one who’d been outside Ben’s house when you stayed over, camera aimed at the two of you. Quietly you nudged Ben. He just wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side as you walked. You struggled to not watch the photographer as he followed you towards the art studio, having to keep reminding yourself to pretend he wasn’t there. “Relax,” Ben said softly in your ear, “He’s not important.” You nodded, afraid if you said anything you’d lose the meagre dinner you’d had. Ben’s thumb rubbing over your own gave you something else to focus on, counting each soft, smooth stroke, until you reached the right place.

You weren’t the only couple there, far from it. Most of the claimed tables were taken by pairs sitting close together, hands clasped or laying on thighs as they talked. A few tables held larger groups, double dates maybe or perhaps just friends. You felt a few eyes on you as you found a table close to the clear glass of the shopfront, but they turned away again quickly, more interested in their own little bubbles than yours. You glanced outside to check if the photographer was still there but couldn’t see much more than the reflection of you and Ben. His knee bumped yours under the table as he leaned toward you, pressing a finger to your jaw to turn your head towards him. “Forget the photographer. Forget Mary and Peter. Forget our arrangement. We're just two friends having a fun night out, okay?” “Okay,” “Okay. So what are you thinking of painting then?” He unscrewed the bottle of wine and grabbed one of the glasses you’d been handed on arrival. “Well what are my options?” “Well there’s your classic teacup, mug or plate options. There’s a couple of different jewellery boxes, I think. And then there are the statues, ummm, fairy, dragon, alien. Maybe a princess one, I can’t remember.” “More than I thought there’d be. What were you thinking?” “I did a dragon last time I was here. But I think I’m going to do a mug this time. Need some extras if you’re gonna be staying over more often.” “Maybe we should both do mugs, then? Something we can use at each other’s places.” “Alright, deal. But we can’t look at what the other is painting until they’re done.” “That’s going to be so hard!” you laughed, feeling properly relaxed for the first time all night. “Yeah but it’ll be fun though. Wait here, I’ll go grab us the mugs.” You took the opportunity to look around the room, trying to think of what Ben might like on a mug. There was art everywhere – paintings hanging on walls, examples of what the classes could teach you, decorated ceramics lining windowsills and shelves. Judging by the wildly differing levels of talent displayed, you assumed at least some of them were left behind and never claimed. There were plates decorated with fruit trees and ocean scenes, jugs covered in splatters of different colours, aliens in shimmery blue and princesses with green hair and orange dresses. But nothing that sparked your imagination. The noise of the room was steadily growing as everyone got stuck into their creations. Ben sat down, took a drink and got to work mixing colours. “You know what you’re going to do then?” “I have an idea. But I will warn you I’m not a particularly good artist so it might not look anything like what it’s meant to.” You picked up your blank mug and put it down again, tapping the end of a paintbrush against the table as you tried to come up with an idea. What did Ben like? He liked coffee. And dogs. And his guitar. More than once he’d brought it to set, playing it in his downtime. He’d been embarrassed the first time you mentioned overhearing him as you passed by his trailer, but you’d assured him you’d liked listening to him. You’d had the song stuck in your head for a week afterwards. “Made up your mind, have you?” Ben asked, glancing up from his handiwork as you mixed a pale peach colour. “No peeking,” “I wasn’t peeking. If I’d been peeking, I would have done this,” Ben craned his neck, leaning over to where your mug was. You laughed and pulled the mug closer to you, pushing him away with your other hand. He caught it in his own, taking the paintbrush from you, “Oi, careful with that.” “Oops, sorry,” Ben laughed and kissed your palm before letting you have your hand back, “No harm done. But y’know if you splattered me I’d have no choice but to get payback.” There was no need to reach for the script you’d brought as you and Ben fell into conversation while you painted. He asked if you’d had any more awkward phone calls with your friends and told you about what had happened when his mates had found out. Nothing like the conversation you’d endured, though there’d been plenty of teasing. You had to admonish him for nearly getting paint on your work when he began using the largest brush he had to artistically spray drops of paint over his mug. And then he’d laughed when you paused, admitting out loud that you weren’t actually sure how to paint the thing you’d planned on painting. He’d promised not to peek while you whipped out your phone to look up a reference image, going to far as to cover his eyes just to make sure. Once you gave him the okay he went back to painting, switching to a thinner brush and shushing you so he could concentrate. It was ridiculous how cute he looked, tongue between his teeth, bent over the mug as he slowly outlined the design. You shook your head to clear the thought and went back to your own work.

“Okay, I’m done. You wanna see now?” “Yes, absolutely. Unless you think we should wait until after they’ve been glazed?” “Fuck that, we can’t pick them up for a couple of days, I wanna show you now.” “Alright, show me then,” you put down your brush, focusing all your attention onto the mug in Ben’s hands. The base coat was a light purple, with splatters of darker purple over top. Slowly he turned the mug to show you the design on the front. It bore a slightly wonky engagement ring, similar to the one his character gave yours in the movie. On either side of the ring, in thin, not quite straight lettering, was the words we’re really good at this dating thing. You smiled as soon as you read the quote from the script, “I love it, Ben” “Thought it was kind of fitting,” he chuckled, “plus it’ll be a nice little souvenir once the movie wraps.” “That was a fun scene to shoot. Best proposal I’ve ever had.” Ben smiled and carefully turned his mug back towards him, “Best proposal I’ve ever given,” He seemed to be about to say something but stopped himself, shaking his head. You lowered your voice, “Promise I’ll get to keep it after we break up?” “Promise,” Ben said, matching your level and leaning in close, “Until then maybe you can use it as a reminder whenever you feel anxious about this whole dating thing.” “Thanks, I will.” You were suddenly very aware of how softly you were speaking, how close you were sitting, leaning in to hear each other over the rest of the room, and for a split second you thought he was going to kiss you again. But then the moment passed, the noise of the room intruding as Ben leaned back in his seat, “So do I get to see mine?” “Uh, it’s not quite done,” you said, picking up your brush again, the moment gone, “give me another couple of minutes.” “Masterpieces take time, I get it,” “This is by no stretch a masterpiece,” “I’ll be the judge of that thanks very much,” Ben turned to look out over the room while you tried to finish your painting without smudging anything, occasionally making comments about other people there or the art that decorated the room. You took one last look at what you’d painted, the guitar with the words stun gun lullaby written in cursive beside it, “Alright, I’m done now, you can look. Careful, some of it’s still wet.” Ben gently took hold of the handle and turned the mug so the design faced him. He broke out into a grin and you felt relieved that he liked it. “It’s definitely a masterpiece. For someone who didn’t know how to draw a guitar you’ve done an incredible job. And how did you know that’s one of my favourite songs?” “Is it? It's just the song I overheard you playing that one time. I thought that line was a good one for a mug. Nice and short so I didn’t have to paint too much.” “This is definitely my new favourite mug.” “Oh stop it.” “And hey, they kind of match.” You laughed when he pointed out the similarities, “Guess they do. Y’know that’d make a pretty cute Instagram post.” “You going to tag me as my mug?” “Of course. You could post a photo and tag me in it too,” “I don’t know. I don’t really post much personal stuff online.” “Well at least comment on mine,” “I can do that.”

After you’d taken a decent photo and posted it online you cleaned up, handed your mugs over to the woman running the night’s activity and stepped back out into the night. There was no sign of the photographer anywhere and you supposed he’d got what he needed and then left. Still, Ben grabbed your hand as you walked back up the street, just in case you’d missed the photographer in the crowd. “Guess that means we don’t have to worry about going home together,” you said, nudging Ben. “Guess not,” his lips quirked down in a soft frown.” “What is it?” “Nothing, nothing, just...feels kind of weird to just end the date here, I guess,” he scratched the back of his head and laughed, “Normally I’d offer to give you a lift home. Or at least give you a good night kiss, but I guess that’s not really needed now.” “Well, it’s like you said, we’re just friends having a fun night out. We could share a ride home though, if you wanted. You live near enough to mine it wouldn’t matter.” “Nah, don’t worry about it. I actually might go grab something to eat, don’t think that burger was quite enough. See you on Monday?” “Oh, yeah, okay, see you Monday.” There was a pause, both of you hesitating and then Ben gave you a much too quick hug before he walked off, disappearing into the crowd. You sighed and hailed a passing cab, spending the whole ride home wondering what the hell had just happened. But you pushed it from your mind once you were home, going through your usual nightly routine and very deliberately thinking of anything other than Ben. It didn’t help much. You still dreamt about him. Dreamt about the goodnight kiss you’d missed out on.

When you woke you had to laugh at yourself. You were sure that, had you binged a few episodes of a tv show or read something before you’d gone to bed you would have dreamt about it instead. Brains were suggestable like that. When you felt awake enough you rolled over and grabbed your phone finding a text from Ben and one from Felicity and an email from Mary. You opened Mary’s first, skimming over it and vowing to look at it properly once you had a coffee in your system. Ben’s was much easier to understand, a short message to say he had fun last night and that he’d pick the mugs up on his way to work on Monday. Felicity’s was just a series of question marks. You sent back a short response saying the date had been a lot of fun. It wasn’t enough and she was bound to come back at you asking for more details, but it would have to satisfy her. Slowly you got out of bed and made yourself a coffee, setting your laptop up next to you at the kitchen counter so you could try to read Mary’s email again. There was some information about some scripts she was going to send you, a couple of potential future roles, but the majority of the email was about you and Ben. She’d already seen the photos, apparently, and some of them would be run in the coming week’s magazine while others were being put online. She’d also seen the Instagram post and commended you for thinking of it. Another date would have to be organised, but it was better to wait until the next weekend or even the one after, so as not to fatigue the public.

So you and Ben fell into the routine of it. An email from one or other of your agents sometimes as vague as just telling you to organise a date, sometimes much more specific in what they wanted you to be doing, then the date itself, and in between work where you played up the romance as much as possible. You got good at pretending to stay over at each other's places, often just hanging out watching TV or running lines until the photographer called it a night and you were free to leave. Once or twice you’d opted to sleep in your own bed but get up early and head over to Ben’s for the required morning after shots but that process got old very quickly so you ended up actually staying over more and more. There was one day when your period came unexpectedly while you were at Ben’s. You were halfway through asking him to take you home when he offered to run to the store for you instead. “No, no, you don’t have to go out of your way like that, I’ve got plenty at home I just didn’t think I’d need any today.” “Y/N, I promise, it’s no trouble. I feel bad I don’t have anything here for you already. Been a while since I’ve lived with a girl and it didn’t even cross my mind. Seriously, it’ll take me two minutes.” When you still weren’t convinced he continued, “Plus, if I go we won’t ruin Peter and Mary’s plan for today. And the Paps can get a shot of me staring at boxes of tampons like a good caring boyfriend. It’ll help our image.” “Oh alright, as long as you don’t mind.” He was out the door a second later and back within ten minutes, though you did get a call from him at the shop, asking what brand you preferred. Once he was home, he made you a cup of tea, gave you a painkiller and, after checking you didn’t mind, cuddled up with you on the couch, teasingly calling you his cuddle bunny as he pulled you back against his chest. You almost complained, almost cited Rule 5, but it wasn’t so bad. Some might even go so far as to call it cute. It was better than snookum at any rate.

The dates themselves got easier after the first. You knew what to expect now so it wasn’t as nerve wracking as before. And Ben was always fun to be around, your list of inside jokes steadily growing as he became the one person you spent the most time with. You let yourselves relax a bit. On your third date Ben’s arm stayed glued around your waist as you walked around the zoo, only losing contact when a lemur jumped on his shoulder and you stepped back to take a photo. It wasn’t low enough to violate the rules you’d put in place but his hand was dangerously close to falling below your belt, and it was definitely something you would have put a stop to when you first started the charade. The Instagram posts had got more frequent too, though Ben still refused to post anything to his own profile. But he commented on everything you posted whether it involved him or not. And people were buying it. You’d been moved from page 15 to page 13 and then to page 10 in the magazines. You both picked up more followers online as your photos were shared across Twitter and Facebook and Tumblr. There were some downsides like rude comments and nasty messages but mostly they were easy to ignore. Worse were the phone calls and messages from family members and friends asking when they’d get to meet Ben. He’d had to fend off his own family as well, but you both stuck to Rule 4, making up excuses and promising it would happen eventually, but it just wasn’t possible right now. But your biggest problem was the issue of intimacy. It wasn’t the lack of sex itself, that was easily managed. It was that Ben had started to intrude on your fantasies. You’d be there with your fingers or your toys and suddenly it was Ben’s voice you were thinking of, Ben’s hands, Ben’s teeth and tongue and chest. Ben’s name falling from your lips. And you knew it was just because you were pretending to date him, on and off set. It was the dumb suggestable brain thing again. The thoughts were only there because you were pretending to be in love with him and usually sex was tied up with love or at least relationships. And really, you hadn’t been attracted to anyone much lately because you hadn’t been looking because you’d been pretending to be attracted to Ben so it’s really no wonder you’re brain got all confused and mixed him into those other thoughts. The first time you saw him after it first happened you wondered if he could tell, a slightly flustered awkwardness hanging over you. But it wasn’t worth mentioning to anyone. You just vowed to push him out of your mind as much as you could.

Nearly two months later you found yourselves back in the office where the idea of pretending to date was first floated. With filming drawing to a close Mary and Peter were keen to check in with you. The first thing either of them said when you and Ben turned up is how well the story was going. “Projections have the sales for this movie increased by five percent, just because of your relationship and that number is expected to grow as we get closer to release,” Mary spoke fast though whether that was excitement at the boosted numbers or just a busy schedule rushing her along you weren’t sure. “What happens now?” Ben asked, “I mean, since we won’t be filming together anymore after this week,” “That’s exactly why we wanted to talk with you both today,” Peter opened a pocket notebook and thumbed through a couple of pages, “so not much will change but we may occasionally need to balance out the loss of on set photos with shots of you out and about together. Nothing stressful and all very easily staged. You probably wouldn’t even need to be out for more than an hour or so at a time. People have been loving the domestic sort of photos you’ve been putting online, Y/N, that one of you using the coffee mugs you painted was especially good. So we’d like a few more of those sorts of moments. The two of you grocery shopping or walking a dog, do either of you have a dog? No? Hmmm, we could hire a dog and write a story about you sitting for a friend. We’ll put a pin in that for now. But yes, just some candid shots of you walking around London and doing regular everyday things together.” “We’ll also need to schedule the argument soon. We’re thinking somewhere within the first two weeks of filming being over. It means we can run speculation about whether the relationship is on the rocks now that you aren’t working together anymore. We’ll see how things go this week and make some decisions later, but we’ll give you plenty of warning before you have to perform it. Obviously, it has to be scheduled so we can guarantee someone will get photos but we need it to seem as natual as possible so we’ll leave the specifics of the argument up to you.” You nodded along but Ben had more questions. “What does this mean for any jobs we might be looking at taking after this movie wraps?” “You can still take on whatever roles you want provided they’re filming here. It’s harder to keep you in the public eye if you’re separated and while the drama of a long-distance relationship might be interesting at first, it’s not sustainable.” “If it was filming somewhere else in the UK we could maybe organise something. We’d have to look into it and see if it was possible to stick to our same plan but just shift the location. Maybe have a weekend visit angle to it, Y/N flies out to see Ben, Ben comes home to see Y/N, that kind of thing.” “Leave it with us Ben and we’ll get back to you on the logistics of it all.” “Oh, that’s okay, I don’t have anything set in stone, I was just curious.” “Is there anything else you have questions about?” “No, I don’t think so,” He looked towards you. “No, I’m all good.” “Okay, well, if you think of anything you can message us any time.” “Really, though, this is going very well. It’s already paying off but we need to keep the momentum during the post-production phase, so we need you both to be committed to this.” “We are.” “Unbelievably committed,” Ben added.

You and Ben left the meeting joking about potential arguments you could have and for the rest of the day, whenever you passed each other in the halls or had a moment alone you’d try to one up each other's suggestions. It was a good way to keep your spirits up even though the end of filming was fast approaching. One by one each cast member recorded their last scenes, saying an emotional thank you to the crew when the director called cut. You and Ben were the last to finish since you were the leads. A small pillow talk scene that you could do in your sleep. It was a nice way to end it, lying in bed with Ben’s arms around you, even with the heat of the studio lights. While you were waiting for the cameras to be positioned you and Ben joked around with the crew that were flitting around angling mics and adjusting set decorations. “Hey, Seth,” Ben said suddenly, “can you pass me my phone. I think we need to document this moment. What d’you say, cuddle bunny?” You laughed and poked him in the side but agreed. Ben stuck his arm straight up into the air, trying to angle the camera just right but he couldn’t quite get the photo to take without blurring. Seth took pity on you and offered to take the photo himself, allowing you and Ben to snuggle in close. “If you post it on Insta you better credit me,” Set laughed, turning it round to show you. “I’ll do that,” He said with a smile, “It’s pretty cute, I think I have to post it.” “Really?” you asked, surprised he’d volunteer to do such a thing. Ben didn’t have a chance to respond because everything was ready to go. Seth put the phone back away so you could film the scene, laughing in between takes until everyone was satisfied. “That’s a wrap on Ben Hardy and Y/N Y/L/N everybody,” A round of applause started as you pushed yourself to sit up, trying to stop yourself from welling up. “And that’s a wrap on The Perfect Match.” The applause continued and Ben pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You had to say a few words but you managed to get through it, and Ben’s little speech, without completely losing it. Afterwards, as people packed up the equipment and you headed back to your trailers to change, Ben pulled out his phone again. “I guess I should post that photo now, how’s this caption,” he said each word slowly as he typed it out, “Thank you Y/N for being the perfect Edith to my Andy. And thank you @theperfectmatchmovie for finding me my perfect match.” “Did you tag me?” “Of course,” “Did you tag Seth?” “Uhhhh, camera emoji by @seththesoundman. Now I have,” “Then it’s perfect. Little bit cheesy but I’ll let it slide.” “I’ll post another lot of photos with everyone else later and write a longer thing about how much fun this movie was and all of that, but I think this’ll do for the minute. Mary and Peter better fucking appreciate it.”

That evening most of the cast and crew headed out for drinks at the local pub. The official party would come later but everyone needed to get out and celebrate for an evening. You and Ben stayed for a few hours, Ben getting a little more clingy with each drink he finished. You limited yourself to only a couple. Ben wasn’t going to be able to drive so you decided to fall on that sword, switching to water quite early on. When he reached the point of intoxication that had him constantly complementing everyone you decided to call it a night, taking a final lap to say goodnight to everyone. There were a few wolf whistles and slurred comments about getting some as you left, Ben’s arm around your waist and his laugh in your ear, but you waved them off and led Ben out to your car. “C’mon Benny boy, I’ll drop you home.” “What about my car?” “Well you’ll have to come get it in the morning, won’t you.” He hummed and lay his head against the back of the seat, chatting animatedly as you made the trip to his. You wished him goodnight as he got out of the car and watched him make his way up to his front door. There he paused, patting his pockets. “Everything alright? You called out to him. “I don’t have any keys,” he laughed, turning around to come back to the car. “You fucking goon, did you leave them at the pub?” “Guess so,” he shrugged, “Can I crash at yours?” “Get in,” “Thanks cuddle bunny, you’re the best” You rolled your eyes, “Guess this means I’ll be your taxi tomorrow, running you around to find your keys and your car,” “That’s what girlfriends are for,” “If you say so.”

Once at yours you headed to the kitchen to make tea, Ben following to grab a glass of water and a snack. He knew where you kept everything by now, making himself a sandwich with whatever he found in your fridge, and then carrying it out to the couch. By the time the teas were made Ben already had Netflix queued up, ready to play the next episode of the series you’d started watching together. Nearly Twenty minutes into the episode Ben’s phone dinged. “Ah shit,” he said as he glanced at it, “forgot I said I’d call Joe. Do you mind if we pause the ep? We’re trying to organise travel stuff for him and it’s easier if we talk it through rather than texting it all.” “Sure,” “I promise I won’t be long.” “Take your time, it’s fine,” you were already reaching for your laptop. Ben smiled at you before ducking out of the room. You head him walking down the hall, footsteps fading as he got further away. For a while you just enjoyed the quiet as you checked your emails and social media profiles but after commenting on the photo Ben had posted and replying to a few messages from people you knew there wasn’t really much left to do. You drummed your fingers on your keyboard trying to think of another website you could visit. There was still no sign of Ben and you didn’t want to continue the show without him so you stood up, stretched, and headed back to the kitchen to grab some chocolate from the stash you kept. You were just about to shut the fridge when you heard Ben’s voice coming from the other side of the wall. Your spare room where he’d clearly gone to make his phone call. “Yeah, Joe, I fucking know. But I don’t have much choice.” He sounded more sober than he had when he’d got up. There was a pause as Joe spoke and then you heard Ben again. “I don’t know what I was thinking getting into this mess…..Yeah maybe. Doesn’t really matter though now does it…. What’s that supposed to mean? I can’t just call it quits now, the story is doing too well and Peter has assured me that the numbers are promising or whatever I don’t really know how they measure it. All I know is that people are going to see the movie because of us.” There was a long pause. You quietly shut the fridge and took a step back towards the doorway. This was not a conversation you should be listening in to. But then Ben spoke again, and curiosity got the better of you. “It doesn’t matter Joe. It doesn’t matter how I feel.” He laughed but it was completely devoid of humour, “Of course it sucks. It’s fucking shit, man. I just keep waiting for her to tell me she feels the same but it’s not happening…... No, I know it’s completely one sided…..No, I don’t think she knows. She wouldn’t have wanted to do it in the first place if she knew…. I just wish things were different. I love being around her and being able to hold her and kiss her but it fucking sucks that it’s only in public….. I don’t know. Maybe not filming together will ma-” You could feel your cheeks burning as you tiptoed back towards the lounge room, not quite sure what to do with yourself. You paced back and forth for a moment before deciding to go to the bathroom, at least then Ben couldn’t walk in on you as you tried to process it. You let the door shut loudly behind you, hoping that if Ben had heard movement he’d think you’d just got up to use the loo. He couldn’t know you’d overheard him. You leaned against the sink and tried to make sense of what you’d heard. Ben couldn’t have a crush on you, he just couldn’t. But it was the only thing he could have been talking about. What the fuck did that mean for your arrangement? What the fuck were you meant to do now?

#my writing #my fics #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ahhhhhhh #ya'll im so excited about this series #i have all the chapters planned out #i have all the titles planned out #i wrote a short synopsis of the film they're making #so that i can reference it throughout the fic and be consistent in what the scenes might be #god can ben please just make a romcom now #i want it more than anything in the world

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promisefanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Can’t Let Go

Prologue

*Summertime Sadness*

Leandra

"We've been doing this shit for like five months now Lena, I'm tired of dropping you off a block away from ya crib & shit," he said leaning his head back on the seat looking over at me

"I understand that but this unnecessary beef between you and my brother is the cause for all of this," I shrugged he chuckled and shook his head.

"Yea but it's all one sided babe, me and Tre ain't get along since high school so really him being mad shouldn't stop anything," he said I nodded.

"You're right babe but the fact that he wants me to stop seeing you all together and I haven't makes shit even worse. I mean he's been blowing me up for the last 30 minutes because more than likely he knows I'm with you. How? I don't even know," I said as my phone began to vibrate in my lap. Looking down at the screen I rolled my eyes as his name popped up adding to the other four messages he's sent in the last five minutes.

"Want me to tell you ya problem with all this shit?" he questioned with a smirk on his face. I laughed a bit and shook my head.

"Oh I have a problem, please tell me," I retorted back in a sarcastic tone.

"You worry too much babe and about the wrong shit," he shrugged.

"The wrong shit? Babe when I walk in the house I gotta deal with the wrath of him. You think I want you to deal with that too?" I questioned he laughed a bit.

"It don't matter to me babe & I mean this with all respect to you, but I don't give a fuck what ya brother gotta say. I can handle myself when it comes to him I'm a grown ass man," he shrugged grabbing my hand

"But that's the thing I don't want any handling between the two of you," I paused sighing as I slouched down in my seat a little. "Just us dating has him like this, can you imagine when you make shit official," I smirked

"Oh when I make shit official huh? Wasn't we taking shit slow simply because of your brother?" He paused smirking at me I smiled rolling my eyes

"Despite all that, I thought we established you was mine and I was yours,"

"Oh we did cause I don't remember that, especially not with all the bitches that be in your face," I joked, he laughed waving me off & suddenly pulled me in.

"You're mine Lena," he said, I smiled bringing my face closer to his and kissed his lips. "Can I drop you off in front of ya building now?" he asked, making me bust out laughing.

"Yea," I replied he chuckled and drove off down the block.

"Let me know when you get inside," he said looking over at me I smiled nodding & kissed his lips. "Text me when you get home," I said in between kisses.

"Gotchu," he smiled, winking at me. Hoping out his car I headed straight for the entrance and watched as he drove off before getting on the elevator.

Walking into my apartment it was quiet, way too quiet for both my brothers to be here. Stepping in the living room I was met by the both of them sitting on the couch waiting for me.

"Ooohhh you in trouble," my little brother King teased I waved him off.

"Shut up King," I said plopping down on the couch. As I began taking my shoes off I could feel his eyes burning holes through my body.

"You gon speak or stare all night?" I questioned looking up at Tre.

"You gon answer ya phone or ignore me all night?" he retorted back sarcastically. I rolled my eyes while sucking my teeth annoyed at his response.

"Where were you Lena and who were you with?" he asked me, I sighed sitting back on the couch.

"Why ask questions you already know the answer to Tre?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest.

"Cause I want you to tell me Lena so maybe just maybe I'm wrong for once,"

"Well you're not wrong." I paused, scratching my head.

"I was with Dom, we went out to eat," I shrugged he chuckled shaking his head

"How many times I gotta tell you to stop seeing that nigga Lena c'mon now,"

"All the time seeing as how you ain't give me no real reason behind why going out with Dom makes you so mad," I snapped back he waved me off.

"I ain't gotta tell you shit though Lena, I'm ya big brother and what I say go point blank,"

"What? In case my big brother forgot I'm a grown ass woman so all that shit you used to pull when we were little is over," I paused grilling him.

"Like for real Tre what's the real issue? The way you acting this seems like something more than the petty beef from high school,"

"That's the thing though Lena that's just it, ain't nothing more to it. I ain't like him in high school, don't fuck with him now, and I definitely don't like him for you," he said causing King to laugh.

"I just don't trust him Lena and I don't want you to. I know how he operates when it comes to girls, I mean we were friends at some point," he paused, switching his seat next to me.

"If he hurts you I don't exactly know what I'll do, but you know my body sis so I'll just leave it at that," I chuckled shaking my head.

"You really get on my nerves, this overprotective shit gotta stop," I was saying until King interrupted me.

"Look who's talking," he said I laughed, flipping him off.

"This has nothing to do with me and you, shit is between me and Tre," I said waving him off.

"I'm serious though Tre, any relationship I'm in moving forward I'm bound to get hurt in some way. You never know, shit with Dom might go so great you'll be walking me down the aisle," I said making us bust out laughing.

"That was funny sis," he sighed, shaking his head. "You really like this nigga?" he asked me I nodded.

"I do Tre and I promise if he hurts me you gon be the first person I tell," I assured him.

"I knew that already, and since you so fond of this nigga and gon go out with him regardless of what I say Ima fall back," he paused standing to his feet I smiled big looking up at him. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"It's just that with mommy not here and pops locked up we all we got so protecting y'all is all I know. I just want what's best for y'all," he said I smiled standing to my feet and hugged him.

"We know Tre and we appreciate you for it, we love you big bro," I said.

"Yea I love y'all too but enough with all this mushy shit I got places to be. I was just waiting on you to get home," he said

"Where you going?" I asked him "Meet Nas & Rocky at the warehouse," I nodded

"Can I come?" King asked eagerly, I rolled my eyes waving him off. "No," Tre and I answered at the same time causing us to laugh

"Aight see y'all later, love y'all," he said

"Love you too,"

**************

*3 Hours Later*

Stirring in my sleep I grew annoyed at the sound ringing off the hook for I don't know maybe the last 10 minutes. I was trying to ignore it until the morning but I'm up now so I might as well answer whoever it is. Grabbing my phone I unlocked it to see 10 missed calls from everyone in my close circle. Calling my best friend Nas back being that he was the last to call me I grew a little worried. I mean why else would all your friends call back to back simultaneously if something wasn't wrong.

"Lena," his voice trembled "Nas what's wrong?" I asked turning the lamp on sitting up in my bed.

"It's Tre," he said as King bust in my room with tears streaming down his face. "What Nas, what's wrong? Why is King crying?" I asked in a panic.

"It's Trey. He's dead Lena."

Rashai

*Next Day*

"Aight ladies listen up when I call ya name fall in line," The guard announced, grabbing everyone's attention. He flipped through his clipboard and began calling names out.

"Morris, Jackson, Washington, Brown, & Jones let's go, your visitor is waiting for you," he said. I closed my book and joined the line. If I'm being honest I'm a little shocked I have a visitor only because I always know beforehand who's coming and when.

"Who's here?" I asked the guard. "You'll see when you get there," he replied in a sarcastic tone. I chuckled and shook my head because on a regular day I'd violate but today Ima chill cause I don't want my visit taken away.

Walking into the room I spotted my cousin Nas and my bro Rocky waiting for me, and as happy as I am to see them the energy I'm getting from across the room doesn't match mine. I mean usually when they come it's a celebration, like almost getting my visit taken away type shit. These niggas ain't even make eye contact with me & I know they know I walked up in this bitch.

"Yo," I called out as I walked up to the table.

"Oh shit, what's good cuzzo? I ain't even see you walk in," Nas said as he & Rocky stood to their feet and dapped me.

"What's up bro? How you?" Rocky asked me, I shrugged as we took our seats.

"Y'all know me taking shit one day at a time. Wussup with y'all though, what ya niggas doing here?" I asked looking between the both of them but all I got was dead silence. While I'm happy as ever they're here to visit, the looks on their face further confirms this isn't just some spur of the moment visit, they're here to tell me some shit & whatever it is has them fucked up. "Yo somebody tell me what the fuck is up and where Tre at?" I asked referring to my other bro, it isn't like him to not be here with them. Regardless if it's random or not.

"Tre ain't coming," Rocky mumbled "Why?" I asked but it got silent again. At this point I'm kinda nervous about what they have to say because in all honesty if this has anything to do with Tre & his absence I don't know what my reaction will be.

"Tre is dead," Nas said looking up at me.

"What bro, stop playing," I said as I waved him off shaking my head. Although I'm praying this shit ain't true, I know Nas wouldn't play with me like this and the tears Rocky are trying to hide fully confirms this ain't no fucking joke.

"I wouldn't play with you like this Rah, why you think we're here bro?" he questioned looking up at me. Feeling my face get hot I stood to my feet trying to process and get my thoughts together. This isn't the reason I was expecting to hear on why Tre ain't show up. Breathing out I looked between Nas & Rocky feeling the tears well up in my eyes.

"The fuck are you telling me right now bro?!" I blurted out as everybody in the room turned their attention towards me.

"Jones! Have a seat before we wrap shit up," the guard announced I waved him off.

"Bro chill just sit down," Rocky said. "We good officer," Nas said as I took my seat. I could care less about what the guards were talking about but I know there's more to this shit & I don't wanna leave without any answers.

"Talk to me, tell me y'all know who the fuck did this," I said wiping my face.

"That's the thing bro, we don't know shit," Rocky said shaking his head.

"We were supposed to meet at the warehouse regular everyday shit bro, only this time he got there before us," Rocky began to explain I nodded.

"When we got there he was already gone, the warehouse was trashed & the boys were everywhere bro, they tried to tell us it was a robbery gone wrong." Nas finished

"Bullshit bro, ain't no way. The way everybody respects The Mob, respects Tre just off his name, ain't no fucking way," I said they nodded.

"Exactly,"

"Talk to me, what y'all think?" I asked looking between them.

"Setup," they both said I nodded.

"By who though? Yall beefing with anybody?" I asked

"No & that's the thing, shit has been extra quiet," Rocky said

"That don't mean shit bro, The Mob is on top and been on top forever if niggas want that spot they gon do whatever it takes," I shrugged shaking my head

"Of course bro but niggas have to know they just made it worst on themselves," he said

"Most definitely, so what's the plan moving forward cause that's word to mommy if something happens to y'all while I'm in here I'm breaking out this bitch," I said as we laughed a bit.

"Well I mean being that you have a week left, you gon have to make this permanent move to Harlem my nigga," Nas said I chuckled shaking my head.

"What the fuck you mean a week bro?"

"You were supposed to find out tomorrow bro with Tre here and all," Rocky said.

"Alright inmates let's go wrap it up," The guard announced I sucked my teeth as we stood to our feet.

"I can't even be as happy as I want to be about this shit, me and Tre been talking bout this my first day coming in and now my bro ain't even here to celebrate this shit with me like he promised,"

"Shit is fucked up but we gon get to the bottom of this," Nas said I nodded dapping them.

"But of course bro, guess Ima be looking for some apartments in a week," I said as we laughed.

"Let's go inmates! Fall in line!"

"Aye y'all niggas hold ya head, and being that I won't be here for the funeral give King my love," I said they nodded

"Got you bro, love you my nigga," Rocky said dapping me.

"I know this shit gon fuck with you, but please stay focused cuz. You got a week left don't let nobody in here fuck that up for you," Nas paused I nodded

"Aight, I love you cuz and hold ya head," he said, dapping me.

"Jones let's go!" I sucked my teeth waving him off.

"I love ya niggas, see you soon,"

#arin ray #miracle watts #asaprocky #bryson tiller #august alsina #karin jinsui #briana shanee #joey badass #pop smoke

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Love, Maybe {41}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

NOTE: **Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 41: Options, Everyone Has Em’

-Vixen-

You had no idea why you were here. You didn’t even know you would be here. You’d gone on a run, had breakfast with Ella, cleaned out your voicemail by listening to most messages. Most meant all the messages that weren’t his. His you deleted automatically. You responded to most texts even the crazy ones from your friends and explained what exactly happened. They were still pissed you’d lied but weren’t too pissed that they didn’t forgive you. In the words of Drea, “who could stay mad at Chris Evans’ wife?”

You’d meant to drive to the restaurant but the voicemail you got while stuck in traffic led you here. You vividly remembered the first time you were here. It looked relatively the same but some aspects were different. The carpet was a teal color now and the décor looked a lot chicer but overall it was the same.

“Ms. Giovanni.”

You looked into the smiling and welcoming face of a man who was at least half a foot taller than you, slim build that contradicted the wide breadth of his shoulders. He held his hand out to you as if to shake your hand.

“Max Loren, we spoke.”

You nodded and shook his hand. “Yes.”

“Please follow me.” He walked ahead leading you down the hall to an office three doors down. He ushered you inside and motioned to one of the three free chairs. Once you sat down he did the same behind his desk and plastered that smile on his face again.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My wife is super excited about the opening of your restaurant. She is a big foodie.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s kind of you to say.”

“I’m glad you could make it in on such short notice,” Max continued.

“You were on the way to where I needed to be, two birds.”

Max smiled and nodded. “So I can assume that is enough small talk, right?”

You scoffed and crossed your arms and waited for him to continue. “My job is to explain your options. I can imagine this is not what you expected. You thought you were rid of this years ago and due to an error you’re not. You may be wondering what does it all mean? How can this be fixed? Let me tell you there is an easy fix.”

There was a quick knock at the door before it opened. You turned and saw the same lawyer from three years ago, Sherman walk into the room. He had a bashful look on his face as he came to stand next to Max.

“Sherman, I don’t think now is a good time,” Max began.

“This is still my practice, it’s my name on this building. Sit down, son.” Max sat back in his seat and you got a bit of satisfaction from it. Something about Max rubbed you the wrong way.

“Ms. Giovanni. I was going to cower in my office from shame but I decided to face you. I want to apologize for my error those years ago. I also wanted to explain. I had a complete mental and emotional breakdown not too long after we met. As you can imagine in this town they are quite common. I lost everything and with it my mind. I went into rehab and my work and responsibilities fell to the wayside. I am solely responsible for dropping the ball when it came to processing the paperwork for your divorce. I sincerely apologize.”

You didn’t need a lie detector test to know he meant it. He really was remorseful. You couldn’t hold a mental and emotional breakdown against him. Mental health was important to you and nothing should supersede it. Yes, it was inconvenient your situation fell through the cracks but you didn’t want to make him the bad guy.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly released. “Sherman, it’s all right. I understand the importance of mental and emotional health. I’m sorry you went through a tough time. I’m happy you’re doing better now.”

He looked surprised and speechless as if he’d expected a whole different reaction. No doubt his other clientele would have been livid and threatened lawsuit upon lawsuits to nail his ass to the wall. He stuttered for a few moments before composing himself.

“Ehm, uh, thank you. That means a tremendous amount to me, especially coming from you.”

You smiled and nodded, then sighed.

“So options?”

“As I was saying,” Max began bringing your attention back to him. “We can assist you in refiling for the divorcee. The papers would be submitted and processed in about--.”

“Three to five months, right,” you filled in.

“Right.”

“I’m a pro at divorces now, although I’ve never actually gotten one,” you sarcastically joked.

“It all would be quick, painless and easily executed. Both of you just go your separate ways,” Max added.

“Don’t believe one word he says, Ms. Giovanni.” Your head spun to watch a tall, beautiful woman dressed in a sharp pencil skirt outfit walk into Max’s office.

“Excuse me? Who the hell are you?” Max was on his feet with a clear annoyed look on his face.

“Names, Charmaine St. John, from St. John & Associates. We’re across the street. My third assistant’s job is to watch this building and report who goes in and who goes out. When she told me you walked in, I knew this was my chance. It’s a good think I came when I did these two were about to swindle you all for the benefit of their client,” she explained.

You looked between the three faces and waited for someone to pull whatever chosen weapon lawyers preferred and duke it out.

“I’m calling security,” Max started.

“What Mr. Loren doesn’t want me to say is that quick, painless and easily executed is a crock of shit, especially when it comes to your divorce.” You looked to Max and then Sherman who wore different expressions. Max looked fed up and at his wit’s end while Sherman looked calm.

“Their client, Chris Evans is a huge Hollywood star, he is worth millions. If the rumors are correct and I assume they are, there was no prenup. That little detail that the two of you have foregone means that you are entitled to everything he has. Homes, cars, income, jewelry, and anything that matters. They don’t want you to know that.”

Again, you looked to the two men. You wouldn’t put it past either of them. “Before you barged in Ms. St. John, it would have been addressed,” Sherman began. “I am not here to swindle anyone. I want this handled as quickly and as amicably as possible,” he finished. You smiled to yourself and nodded.

“If that is true for our client, then the same is true for you Ms. Giovanni,” Max announced.

“Excuse me?”

“There was no prenup, Chris is also entitled to everything of yours as well, including this new deal with your upcoming restaurant and any other deals that were made up until as recent as this morning.”

Once he said that you paused. You never thought this deeply about any of it.

“And you two have a child together, there are a slew of things that can come up there. Custody, visitation, child support,” Ms. St. John added.

Your stomach fell to the floor at the thought that he could try to take Ella from you. to hell with him getting half of your accomplishments, the thought of Ella being dragged through this tore you apart—literally. This was a lot more complicated now.

The three of them spoke for the next thirty or so minutes but after Ella was brought up your attention faded as you got lost in your thoughts. So many things were possible, especially considering how attached he seemed to have grown to her and all his admissions with how much she meant to him. It was possible he would try to get some form of custody, even if he didn’t try to take her away completely. Before any of them finished speaking you stood and walked out in a daze. You needed air.

The elevator ride was the longest thing. You felt as if any moment you’d vomit and felt as if the walls of the elevator were closing in on you. Thankfully the doors opened before you puked, and you stumbled through the lobby outside to gulp in much needed oxygen. You stood there panting trying to slow your heart, calm your thoughts, and stop your impending panic attack.

“Vixen?” Your spine stiffened at the sound of his voice but the butterflies in your belly began instantly. You looked to the side and there he was, all six feet of muscle, beauty, and charm. Only he looked like he’d seen better days, there were bags underneath his eyes, he looked paler than normal, his eyes were near bloodshot and he wore sweatpants and a hoodie. He looked off. When you realized what you were doing you rolled your eyes and walked off.

“Wait, please.” Ignoring the plea, you continued your walk to the parking lot around the corner.

“Vixen, please. I’ve been trying to call you. We have to talk. Let me explain, please. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the full truth as soon as I found out. I’m sorry about everything.”

As you walked you could hear his words but you didn’t want to listen so you picked up the pace of your steps while looking around. You had to make sure paps were around. That was your life now, because of him. a fresh wave of anger filled you and it was enough to get you to your car.

“Vixen, come on. This isn’t fair. I don’t deserve this. I miss you, I miss Ella--.”

Seeing your car you spun around while walking and looked at him. “Leave me alone! We were better off without you.”

As soon as the words left your mouth he stopped in his tracks and the rest of the color drained from his face. Not waiting to see any more you turned and jogged the rest of the steps to your car then climbed inside and sped off.

You were pissed for the rest of the day. Everyone knew it, so they limited their interaction with you hoping to steer clear of the fury that was Vixen Giovanni when she was pissed. After a quiet dinner and solemn bathtime with Ella, you sat out back with a glass of wine.

“What’s wrong?”

“I went to see his lawyers today.”

“Oh, how’d it go?” You looked at Nex giving her the look. She instantly knew it was bad.

“We don’t have a prenup. Normally that means I’m entitled to everything he has but now it means he’s also entitled to everything I have, everything Nex, including the restaurants, the deal with Kassius, even the Food Network deal. He is rightfully entitled to all of it.”

“Do you want half?”

“What! No, of course not. I don’t care about his money. I don’t want anything from him, I didn’t then and I definitely don’t now.”

“But you think he’ll jump at the chance to take half of yours,” Nex filled in. You rubbed your forehead and finished the glass. “You don’t honestly believe that Vix.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore Nex. I don’t know him, I know nothing about him.”

“Bullshit. You spent an entire night with him in Vegas. Something meaningful must have happened for you to have sworn off men and everything for three years. Something meaningful must have happened to make you fall for him, and marry him. Then these last months, it was clear the two of you were reconnecting. You’ve spent a lot of time together. You know more about him than ninety percent of the world. So this bullshit about not knowing him is a crock of shit,” Nex berated.

You refilled your glass and took a few gulps.

“Then this other lawyer, Charmain St. John who looks like she is vying to be my lawyer in all this brought up Ella. There’s a bunch to work out there, custody, parental rights, visitation, child support. Then it dawned on me he could try to take her from me. He could fight for shared custody. What then!”

“Vix. Are we talking about the same man? Chris Evans who we’ve both spent weeks with, who has grown into this amazing dad right before our eyes. The guy wants the best for Ella. In no way could he believe the best for Ella is a life without you or less of you. It’s just not going to happen.”

“People do strange things when they feel their backs are against the wall or they’re losing something.”

“Is that why you’re going off the walls, you feel like you’re about to lose something?”

“Yeah, my child.”

“Is it your child or is it Chris?”

You groaned and finished the glass. The sound of his name elicited conflicting reactions, want, desire, sadness, and anger. It was confusing.

“Vix. Think about things thoroughly and slowly. Things happen for a reason, every single thing. You have to think about the reasons why you slept with him and married him before and think why you chose to open yourself up to him a second time, why did you sleep with him this time? Usually we act on feelings we don’t even recognize or haven’t fully acknowledged consciously. You should step away from everything surrounding him not telling you about the marriage and try to think about everything else.”

“I can’t Nex. I’ve tried. I just—can’t go there.”

“You’re gonna have to or prepare for this court battle.” With that Nex walked off inside leaving you alone with your thoughts, fears, and worries.

As you passed Ella’s room to yours you heard her murmur your name. Walking in and stooping at her bedside you brushed her cheek.

“Go to sleep, sleepy head.”

“Mama, wayo da-da? I wan da-da.” Pinching your lips, you did your best to keep it together. You kissed her forehead and hummed to her hoping to gently lull her back to sleep.

Once you had you disappeared into your room and buried your face into your pillows and bawled yourself to sleep, yet again, only this time with the realization that one of your biggest fears had come true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#love maybe fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans smut #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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