#and then realised I should put it in the main text so my message doesn’t get lost

[betterthanbatman1]

Okay LOOK how calm and peaceful he looks. Sitting alone there, in his own world. But also how sad he looks. The artist has done a really good job with the contrasting colours. His world is literally cold and blue right now and he just wants things to change. But he knows things don’t change in Gotham. It never does.

And then there’s the fact that his bike is there-

This boy drove- HE DROVE to sit on a bench and feed these birds. And no he didn't just hand them a leftover bite of his sandwich as he sat on a bench. No no no, he BOUGHT the breadcrumbs! Look at the little paper bag!! He bought breadcrumbs and drove his bike to sit alone on his bench and feed the pigeons.

This is what he does to calm down and unwind and empty his head from the bat-filled chaos he experienced. It's canon to me so yeah l'lI never shut up about this. My heart can't handle this information. I need to give this boy a hug

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 14.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, semi-public sex, foodplay, a lot of sloppy making out, creampie is not the only type of dessert involved, very soft dom!jin, sub!reader, unprotected sex but who’s surprised, dom!hoseok, waxplay, painplay, very explicit discussion about consent since waxplay is technically edgeplay, restraints, cuffs, flogging, hobi in his element is a kink in and of itself, degradation, discipline, subspace, scratching, rough sex, hoseok going the extra mile honestly, still unprotected sex, cumshot

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and sponsored by the red room

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

The vote is at the end of this chapter.

DAY TWENTY

Though it’s the weekend (as if that has any real significance when you aren’t really working) you wake up tragically early, before the sun’s even risen.

Unsure of what woke you, you rub your eyes and duck your head out into the hallway. To your surprise, there’s the distinct yellowish glow from a light on downstairs. It’s hard to walk down the stairs when your head is full of cotton, your eyes still bleary and your mouth constantly stretched in a yawn, but finally you stumble down into the main space.

Frozen, with a metal spoon hanging out of his mouth and his eyes wide and red, is the oldest man of the house. He leans dejectedly against the kitchen counter, haunting a tub of ice cream that’s definitely not intended for one person. You quickly realise what may have woken you is the obnoxious whir of the microwave, something in a covered glass jar twirling round and round inside.

“What-” you swallow and clear your throat when the word comes out croaky, “what are you doing here so early? Are you okay?”

Still startled by your presence, he blinks a few times and removes the spoon from his mouth, letting it clatter to the table. “I’ve been better.”

Your face drops in sympathy, ignoring the freezing tile on your feet as you approach him. Without waiting for permission, you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him close to you in a tight hug. “What’s up, Jinnie? You can be honest with me. If you let me have some of your ice cream, of course.”

That manages to pull a weak laugh from him as he hands you the spoon and ruffles your hair. “I am, as it turns out,” he explains, “incredibly stupid.”

“Ah.” You dig into the tub of ice cream one handed, dislodging a chunk of what looks like brownie. “First of all, I disagree, but more importantly, why do you think that?”

“Do you have an hour?” Jin sighs at the poor attempt at lightening his own mood. “To tell you the truth, and this may come as a shock to you, but-”

“Is this about Yoongi and you fucking?”

Jin pulls back, staring you down with a bewildered expression.

You swallow a cold mouthful, furrowing your brows apologetically. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted. Go on.”

“I- How did you- Who knows?”

You hum for a minute, tapping the end of the spoon against your lips. “Oh, I’d imagine everyone,” you summarise. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit.” You wince as you recall a few particular evenings. “Nor is volume control.”

“Right.” Jin has the good grace to look sheepish at that, but gently tugs the spoon back. The microwave beeps noisily behind you, and he curses, rushing over to pull the jar out. “Anyways, yes, Yoongi and I have been casual for a short time now, but things are messy. And I suppose I sort of thought they were good messy, but last night I realised how very not-good messy they were. I haven’t been fair to Yoongi. Or you.”

You tilt your head, watching him uncover a lightly steaming jar full of what looks and smells like caramel. “Me? What does this have to do with me?”

Jin opens his mouth, grimaces, and closes it again. After a few moments of silence where he stirs the sauce and tastes a bit of it, he finally faces you to speak. “After the fight, you didn’t really...say anything about what you found out. My feelings for you, I mean. Not that you were at all obligated to, of course, but I wanted to give you space. And… I wanted to have space too, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so when Yoongi expressed interest in me, I thought him and I could help each other out.”

He pours some of the sauce directly into the tub of icecream, but then puts it down and rests his forearms on the countertop, really leans his whole body weight onto them like it’s hard to stay standing. “Yoongi has feelings for me,” he explains. “I don’t know if you know that too, but- yeah. He said- even as recently as yesterday, he said he was fine, but I should know better. It’s irresponsible of me to take his words as gospel when I can so clearly see, as his friend and as a trained therapist, that he isn’t okay.”

You want to wait until he’s said his piece, but your chest feels hot, like your ribs are smouldering coals. You can’t stop your tongue. “I don’t need space.”

Jin blinks, caught off-guard. “Huh?”

“I don’t need space,” you repeat in a warm voice, “I don’t want you to be distant. Fuck Yoongi if you want, but don’t do it just because you’re avoiding me. You’re right; that isn’t fair to either of us.”

“I know,” he concedes, shoveling another spoonful of melted ice cream and sauce into his mouth to buy him some thinking time. “It’s getting out of hand, too. Just yesterday Jungkook asked to join and- God, this is such a mess. I should end it, shouldn’t I?”

Your tongue tingles with the urge to press about Jungkook. Feeling like that isn’t really Jin’s priority right now, you change tact. “Do you want to end it?”

Jin furrows his brows, deep in thought. Clad in blue and white striped pyjamas, his face seems far too serious for his attire, but it’s clear this is really eating away at him if he’s up so early thinking about it. Had he even gone to bed at all? “I don’t want to,” he admits, “being with Yoongi is so easy. And not like- not logistically, I’m not saying Yoongi is easy, but… God, I don’t know how to say this without it being soppy. It feels right. But at what point do I stop doing what I want and start thinking about others? I need to do what’s best for Yoongi.”

It’s hard conveying any semblance of intelligent thought when you probably have not even half of the whole story, but you do your best for him. “Is that a decision you should be making on his behalf, though? I feel like you should be having this conversation with him.”

Jin sighs, placing the spoon down so it doesn’t clatter. “Here’s the thing. I’ve been going over and over it in my head. My reasons for sleeping with him aren’t all noble or genuine or even fair. And I know he has feelings for me. I think if I let this continue I’ll be hurting him. So surely ending it is the right thing to do?”

You mull it over a moment. “It seems like you already know the answer, Jin,” you offer up softly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Jin bites his lip, eyes distant. “If I text him, if I tell him that we need to talk, or that we shouldn’t do it anymore, then… You said you didn’t need space. So can we talk? About us?”

“Of course,” you reply immediately, though your heart rate quickens at the thought, “that’s probably for the best, too.”

“Alright.” Jin wipes his hands on his shirt pants, whether it’s to get off the stickiness of the dessert or sweat you don’t know, but soon enough he’s slipping his phone out and hunkering down on the kitchen tile floor.

You join him, scooching up so that your shoulders bump. With your back against the cabinets and your lower half on those icy tiles, normally you’d be shivering. But Jin’s body is like a radiator, and he leans into you as he unlocks his phone and pulls up Yoongi’s contact.

For his privacy, you try not to look, but you can’t help but notice the name for Yoongi is Min City, and that their recent texts are calls for late-night rendezvous. Jin takes a deep breath, his thumbs hovering over the keypad. “What do I even say?” he muses out loud. “I’m a therapist; why can’t I even work out a good ‘we should talk’ text?”

You hook your hand under his arm, tucking it to your side. “Start off by apologising for texting him at ass o’clock in the morning,” you jibe.

Jin pauses. “I’ll probably rephrase,” he admits, “but that’s solid.”

hey yoongichi, sorry about texting you so early. |

“Okay, what next?” Jin says in a shortened breath.

You let out a light laugh. “This is your message,” you remind him, “but fine. How about this? Tell him that you’ve been thinking a lot, which you have, and that you just can’t keep sleeping with him in good conscience because you don’t feel like it’s wise. And maybe, like, tell him to come find you when he reads it so you can have a proper chat. It shouldn’t just be done over text, you know?”

“That’s true… Okay, here goes.” Jin swallows hard as he types away, and were it not for the fact that these were your friends who were involved, you’d laugh at the cheesiness of the moment. Like something off a trashy k-drama, though your life felt more and more like one every day anyway.

hey yoongichi, sorry about texting you so early. i’ve been doing a lot of thinking after our talk, and i just really don’t think us doing this is a good idea anymore. please let me know when you get this. we can talk it over a bit. |

“Is that all I need?”

You shrug. “I guess so. Unless you wanna add an ‘xoxo’ to the end of it.”

Jin bites his lip. “That may send mixed messages.”

“It was a joke, Jinnie,” you protest, shoving him playfully. “Anyway, are you gonna send i-”

A loud ding cuts you off, echoing slightly in the otherwise silent house. Above the box of text Jin had been crafting, a new strip of grey appears.

The both of you freeze, staring in disbelief at the screen. “Did he just..?” Before you can even finish that sentence, a second chime rings out again, and the screen shifts to display more grey, slightly smaller than the first.

“Looks like,” Jin murmurs, scrolling up to view the new message. “Holy shit.”

I’m sure you’re still asleep jin-hyung, so just text me when you get this but yesterday i was lying when i said i was fine, because i’m really not and jungkook has really helped to give me a little perspective so i’m sorry if you still need someone to distract you but i’m not gonna be that someone anymore

No hard feelings btw, i still feel the same way about you but i don’t think we should have sex for a while, i just need some distance. I like to think that you’d want me to put myself first and i’m doing that now. I hope you can understand

“That… I guess that’s that sorted,” Jin says slowly, tapping the screen to delete his message. “Should I reply now?” He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head as he locks the phone. “No, I’ll wait until later. He won’t be expecting a reply now, anyway. Hopefully he can get some sleep.” His eyes turn sad. “Do you think he was up all night stressing about that?”

“Hey,” you warn lowly, “don’t guilt yourself. The two of you can straighten things out later, and sleep better tonight. Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.” He releases a slow breath, his body heavy with unshed tension. For a moment, the two of you stay silent, you giving him time to process. When he speaks, he shuffles his whole body around to face you. “I know why you’ve been so hesitant,” he announces suddenly.

You frown. “Wait, what? Hesitant?”

“Yes,” he insists, “you haven’t really talked at all about if you return my feelings. I used to feel really confused and hurt by it, but I get it now.”

Your stomach rolls strangely, a feeling like being caught red-handed. “What do you mean?”

“Last night,” he explains, “I came up to tell everyone that dinner wasn’t far away. You weren’t in your room, and Taehyung wasn’t in his…” He trails off meaningfully, and realisation settles in your bones, not shock, but resignation.

“Oh.” You swallow, sitting up so you’re no longer leaning towards him. “You saw us? In Jimin’s room?”

“I won’t tell,” he begins automatically, “and it’s okay. I see that you’ve been answered for already. I’ll respect that.”

“It isn’t like that,” you say reflexively, “we - god, we weren’t supposed to let anyone know, I can’t believe we didn’t lock the door - but we aren’t together together. It would be too messy, and it was putting a strain on our relationships with everyone else, you know?”

Jin frowns, like he’s trying to work it all out. “So it isn’t a romantic relationship?”

You smile thinking of Taehyung’s loving brown eyes and Jimin’s gentle embrace. “It’s a promise,” you explain softly, wrapping your arms around your torso. “We aren’t making any commitments or ties now, and we obviously can’t be exclusive, so it’s a promise that once we’re out of here, we’ll try and explore our feelings. Do it right.”

The therapist takes in a deep breath, nodding. “Then where do I fit into all of this? Does that mean I have a chance?”

“I-” You bite your lip, avoiding his imploring gaze. “It would feel wrong getting into a relationship when I’d decided that I wouldn’t do it with them. If that makes sense?”

“It makes perfect sense,” he assures, “but that’s not what I mean. I don’t need to be in a relationship with you to treat you right, Y/n. I just want to know if there’s a chance in hell that you return my feelings.”

You lift your eyes at this, staring at the way his soften in response. Your heart thuds in your chest and there’s a liquid relief pumping through your veins that he’s willing to stay by you. If you didn’t already know it before, those sensations certainly make it clear. “I like you, Jin. A lot.”

He smiles in relief, a small and sweet one that makes his eyes crinkle. Rather than responding verbally, he slips one large palm around the nape of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss.

Eyes slipping shut the moment he comes close, you reach out blindly for him and fist your hand in the thin fabric of his pyjamas to steady yourself. His lips are so plush, and moving so slowly, that it feels like they could slow down time itself. There’s no urgency in the sensual way he kisses you, but you can nonetheless taste his elation sweeter than the remnants of caramel on his tongue.

In that same way, you have no idea how much time passes with your mouths locked together, slowly warming the kitchen floor with your body heat until your skin feels on fire. Even the slightest details, like his fingertips on the back of your neck and your inner wrist make you dizzy.

You break apart for air, still clinging to him like you’d drown without his touch. Panting, you try to slow your racing heart. Your lips still tingle, and reach up to brush your fingers against them in wonder. “Oh, wow,” you whisper dumbly.

Jin smiles, then, a brilliant one that warms his whole face. “Wow,” he repeats. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you like that for a long time, Y/n.”

Barely able to think, you find your eyes slipping down to his lips, how swollen they are, dusky pink. “You can do it again, if you want.”

Jin goes to lean forward, but halts, looking up to the countertop. “One sec,” he hedges, “I’m determined to continue my opportunist streak.”

“Your what?” You chuckle at first, but as he reaches up and drags the jar of caramel sauce down, your eyes quickly widen in realisation.

Jin catches your look, sending you a wink. “Open up,” he instructs, and you drop your jaw without hesitation, anticipation heightening your senses.

When he tips the lip of the container forward, and you feel that warm sweetness burst on your tongue, you moan, tilting your head back so it pools in your mouth. But instead of stopping, he continues to pour, until you feel it threaten to spill out. “Too much,” you try to say, but you can’t move your tongue or lips enough to enunciate it.

Jin only pulls the jar away when it begins to drip down your chin, and like a man starved, he leans in and licks into your mouth without abandon.

You moan as you feel his tongue cut through the molten sugar, running over yours, over your teeth and lips and even ducking down to messily swipe up the stickiness on your face. No matter how much he ravishes you, the moment you begin to kiss back, your tongue lifts and a thick wave of hot caramel slips between your mouths, no doubt getting on your pyjama shirt.

Jin doesn’t seem to care; on the contrary, he moans and clasps your face in both hands, nipping at your lips and deepening the kiss more than you even thought possible. Slowly, the sweetness of caramel gives way to his own taste, and you’re left licking each other filthily, entwined together on the kitchen floor.

Once your chest is aching with a lack of oxygen, you pull away with a gasp, wincing at the weird feeling of caramel on your chest. “So messy,” you groan, “sorry, I didn’t think you’d pour so much.”

Jin’s eyes just light up with mirth. “Messy is the point, baby. We probably have, what-” he pauses to consult the time on the microwave, “two hours before the early risers are up? Why don’t we make an even bigger mess? I’ve decided I’d like to have my dessert first.”

You press your lips together to prevent a moan, nodding frantically. “Fuck, please. I want you.”

The therapist’s chest hitches, but he reaches out to squeeze your thigh. “Lie back, then, baby. Can you take your shirt off for me?”

You’re in such a hurry to obey him, shivering violently at the cold tile against your bare back, that when you suddenly feel a cold burst on your chest you jump, getting a fright.

There’s not enough time to feel that burst of ice, however, as a hot tongue quickly laps it up, collecting every last drop. Jin even sucks the skin there, just above the swell of your breast, to make sure he’s cleaned you up.

You writhe on the floor, your panties uncomfortably soaked, but Jin just throws a leg and an arm over you, straddling you and caging you against the floor. His weight against you makes you moan, that delicious sensation of being trapped exactly where you most want to be.

This time, when he digs his spoon into the slightly-melted ice cream, he pops it into his mouth instead of on your skin. You almost assume he’s just taking some for himself, but then he’s dipping his head and wrapping those sinful lips around one of your nipples, making you cry out.

The cold is immediately overwhelming, tightening and stiffening your peak, and the dizzying mix of his hot tongue with that cold dessert has you clinging to his back, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. “F-fuck, Jin,” you gasp, “so cold.”

“Is it?” Jin quips, his hand reaching to his side. “Oh, I’m sorry, baby.”

Without giving you a moment’s respite, he’s drizzling trails of caramel over your breasts, and lapping it up with ravenous enthusiasm. Though the caramel has gone mostly room-temperature, the contrast against your cooled nipple just makes it feel that much more electric, and you arch your back harshly until Jin finally reaches it and soothes it with his mouth.

You moan, wishing you had something to rut against, some type of friction where you needed it most, but Jin’s more focused on licking, nipping and sucking the sugar off of your body, leaving you trembling. “More,” you plead needily.

“More sauce? More ice cream?” he asks, panting as his own arousal presses stiffly against your lower stomach.

“More you,” you beg, arching up into him, making him curse lowly.

Like desperate virgins, you both quickly discard the last of your clothing, Jin just about popping the buttons of his shirt clean off, and it feels simultaneously like a second and a century before you feel his familiar girth pressing into you, stretching your dripping walls.

You groan, the back of your head knocking against the tile as you go slack, letting yourself focus fully on the sensation of him filling you up. “Fuck, Jin,” you gasp out, legs wrapping around his torso as he goes deeper and deeper.

When he bottoms out, however, Jin doesn’t begin fucking you straight away. Instead, he reaches for the jar. “Tongue out, baby,” he instructs.

Swallowing the drool that gathers in your mouth from the pleasure, you stick out your tongue until you feel it on your chin, awaiting the stream. Clearly wanting to be as messy as possible, Jin intentionally lifts his hand higher so that instead of a mouthful, you get whippings of sugar all over your neck, chin, and cheeks. Hardly any actually makes it in your mouth, but the therapist just chuckles and puts the jar beside him, bending down to run his tongue in a broad swipe up your cheek.

You squeal, turning your head to the side, but the surprise quickly bubbles into arousal as he laps up every last drop, sucking hickies into your neck all the way. The longer he goes, the more you need him, wetter and wetter around his cock. Rocking your hips just to get some friction, you whine into the silence of the kitchen. “Jin, fuck me already,” you plead.

Jin’s first thrust punches all the air out of you. He snaps his hips hard enough to push your body forward from the tile, then grabs your waist with a low growl, pinning you against the floor.

Though the tiles are still cold, your body heat is quickly taking the edge off, and being fucked against such a hard surface is a new feeling to you entirely. There’s no give, no bounce. When Jin begins fucking you at a greedy pace, you feel every inch of him stretching you open.

Your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, trying not to moan loud enough that the sound would travel upstairs, but barely able to even contain them at all. “Fucking me so go-mmf!” Your mouth is filled with a cold intruder, and you suck hard, swirling your tongue around the two fingers covered with ice cream. Jin curses lowly at the feeling, and suddenly he’s picking up the pace even more.

You cry out around his fingers, hands flailing to find something to latch onto and anchor yourself, but your knuckles whack into something solid. The ache in your fingers is quickly drowned out by the sudden rush of thick wetness on your stomach, and your eyes fly open, choking on Jin’s digits.

His thrusts slow down and he pulls his hand away and before you can say a single thing, the room is filled with the contagious sound of his laughter. Cock still buried deep inside you, and one hand dripping with caramel, holding onto the near-empty jar, Jin howls, shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“Hey!” you whine, pouting when the caramel disperses over you, soon dripping down onto your back and the floor. “Don’t laugh at me! You wouldn’t like it if your chest was drenched in caramel!”

Jin discards the jar beside him with a sticky clink, and composes himself, though that glint still remains alight in his eyes. “Oh, wouldn’t I?” Without a moment’s hesitation, he’s bending down until your chests are pressed together, separated only by that slippery layer of sauce.

A muffled squeak leaves your lips when he captures them again, his fingers scratching lines up your sides, making you shiver. You try to protest his attempt at tickling you while you were vulnerable, but then he’s rocking his hips, shallow strokes that grind into you so deep.

You moan, wrapping your arms around his back. Every time you feel his nails cutting through the syrup, you scratch his back. Instead of deterring him, however, he just groans into your mouth and doubles his efforts at fucking you.

Slowly, his hands move around from your sides to your back, and you cling to him tighter as he lifts you off the kitchen floor. Still delving his tongue deep into your mouth, he pulls you up until your torso is arched against him and your head tips back slightly, a perfect halfway point between horizontal and vertical, and uses the extra momentum to thrust up into you harder. The angle hits your g-spot roughly with every snap of his hips, and your clit grinds against his cock.

You cry out and lose contact with his mouth, but he just latches it onto your neck instead, dragging his teeth over your shoulder to let the cooled caramel pool in his mouth.

“Jinnie, I’m close,” you confess in a rush, your orgasm quickly building with a pressure between your legs. Something in the way your toes curl and stomach tenses warns you that this will be a powerful one, and your cries increase in pitch and volume, every breath a moan. “Jinnie! Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-”

“Make another mess for me, baby,” Jin groans, and with those words alone your vision goes white.

Jin curses when you lock up around him - legs and arms and pussy alike - but continues to rut against you as you ride the churning wave of your high. Burying your head into the crook of his neck so that you don’t wake the others with your keening scream, you feel a sudden burst inside you that leaves you trembling uncontrollably beneath him.

You feel Jin’s chin pressing into your hair as he glances down, grunting with exertion, and suddenly he’s freezing, holding you tightly to him as he cums inside of you.

The warmth of him filling you is the perfect soother as you come down from that intense climax, and you sigh as he leans forward, lying you back down on the kitchen tile. The two of you fight to catch your breath, the only sounds in the room your joint gasps.

Above you, Jin’s chest heaves, dripping with caramel just like yours must be. He doesn’t take any bother though, wiping away the sweat on his brow with a clean patch of his forearm. “Man,” he exclaims with a cheery chuckle, “you really did make a mess, huh?”

“What?” you ask blearily, weakly propping yourself up on your elbows to glance down. Thinner and clearer than the caramel, a liquid drips over yours and Jin’s stomachs, running down to the tile. You’d squirted. With a weak groan, you let yourself collapse back onto the sticky floor. “It’s too early for this,” you whine. “Oh, god. We have to clean this up.”

Jin’s smile is wiped clear off his face. “Oh, fuck. I didn’t even think about that, my notes didn’t mention it…”

“Your notes?” you ask curiously, grimacing when Jin slowly pulls himself out of you, a stream of cum following and joining the mess of liquids on the floor. “What notes?”

The therapist lets out a nervous laugh as he gets up off the floor, grabbing a clean dish cloth from the bottom drawer. “I did some research, that’s all. Like, no spicy stuff near any mucous membranes because of the sting, no sugar in the vulva otherwise you might get a yeast infection-”

“Eugh,” you cut in, “I’m glad you did the research, but that just makes me want a shower even more now.”

“Go shower, then,” Jin allows with a sympathetic smile, wetting the cloth and beginning to wipe off the stickiness on his chest. “I can clean this up for you.”

“Absolutely not,” you insist, “I’ll quickly wash this off, but I’m coming back down to help you. The sun’s about to rise, so if we work together, maybe there won’t still be cummy sauce all over the floor when the others come down for breakfast.”

“It is probably a safety hazard,” Jin admits. “Okay, then, we’ll clean it together. I’ll have a quick shower once you get back.”

You beam up at him but, before you grab your clothes and rush up the stairs, you rise onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to his sugared lips. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Jin returns your warm smile, ducking down to steal another kiss, and another, and another until you’re giggling and ducking away. “I’ll do my best.”

--

“You aren’t being particularly subtle.”

Hoseok shrugs at Yoongi. “I’m not trying to be subtle.”

The doctor’s eyes narrow. “Then tell us what’s in the box.”

Hoseok hesitates. “I’m trying to be a little bit subtle.”

Taehyung groans, reaching out for the heavy cardboard box and glaring reproachfully at Hoseok when he smacks his hand away. “Could we have a clue?”

Hoseok smiles sweetly. “No.”

“Then why is it on the table?” the masseuse whines miserably. “You’re just teasing us!”

“I don’t know why you’re so bothered,” Yoongi notes, “it’s not even for you.”

Perhaps you’d be more bemused by the antics of the boys at the table were it not for your own rampant curiosity. As usual, your days were measured by communal mealtimes (courtesy of the fact that six of you were too lazy to cook for yourselves, and the remaining too were perfectly happy to make enough for you all) but this time, as you enjoyed a pan-seared fish of some sort, the flow of the table was interrupted by the package that Hoseok had so dramatically dropped down in front of him. “What is it on the table for?” you ask in what you hope is a casual, unbothered tone.

Hoseok sighs patiently like he’s been through this before. “It’s to create an atmosphere of anticipation,” he explains importantly. “This is reality TV gold, guys, this is exactly what the editors would put a close-up of right before the ad break.”

Jin furrows his brows. “I don’t think there are ad breaks, Hobi.”

“You get what I mean,” he huffs petulantly before clearing his throat, “anyway, let’s change the topic. Any gossip? Love declarations, plot twists; what have I missed?”

Jungkook opens his mouth, beside him Yoongi quickly places a hand on his thigh, and the younger boy sinks back into his chair. “Just the usual for me.” If you weren’t already looking at him, you might have missed the slip of a smile that he presses his lips together to suppress. “Except for the extra dicks I’ve been sucking.”

“Jungkook!” Yoongi shrieks, before sitting up straight. “Wait. Dicks, plural?”

“Well, yeah, Taehyung can’t fuck Y/n anymore, so…” Jungkook deflects. Across the table, Taehyung wordlessly throws his hands in the air in a ‘what can you do?’ type gesture. “It’s like an emergency relief fund but sex,” the youngest explains, “I’m very generous like that.”

Taehyung’s mouth drops open, his breezy demeanour fading. “Hey! You only sucked my dick because you said my technique was off!”

Jungkook smiles glacially at the rest of you. “I’m a giver,” he continues, “much like Yoongi, I teach on the side.” He pouts at Taehyung. “And your technique was off!”

“It was better than your sloppy toppy!” Taehyung defends. “I wanted a blowjob, not a shower.”

“Listen,” Jin says sharply as Jungkook lets out an offended cry, “the only way you’ll ever know for sure is if you have an objective party to compare the two directly.”

Jungkook harrumps, crossing his arms. “What; are you offering?”

Jin pauses. “To have...my dick sucked twice by two very attractive and enthusiastic people? Yes, yes I am.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at Jungkook. “You’re so on,” he threatens, “when I win, you have to let me join your stream.”

Jungkook’s already leaving the table, dragging Jin up by a handful of his hoodie. “Such a shame you’re not going to, then,” he taunts, “when you lose, you have to give me a full-body massage and no skimping on the back.”

The rest of you watch in speechless bemusement as Taehyung huffs and throws his chair back, hurrying after them. “Maybe if you didn’t slump in your chair so much, you wouldn’t have a sore back in the first place! Wait, Jungkook, not so fast, I just ate…”

Once the three have left, Yoongi clears his throat. “The gossips have left,” he states carefully, eyes serious as they watch Hoseok, “so what’s in the box?”

Hoseok giggles and claps his hands together, clearly delighted with the attention this box has given me. “You know, the more you ask, the less likely I am to show you.”

Yoongi immediately makes his expression sour, turning up his nose. “I don’t even want to see what’s inside the box,” he insists, “I don’t care at all.”

“Sure thing, hyung.”

The academic is next to have a go. With gentle eyes and shy fingers, Namjoon props his hands on the very edge of the table and looks over to Hoseok. “What if you just showed us one?” he bargains. “It just seems like such a shame to get them delivered all the way over here and not get to show more people.”

Hoseok purses his lips, still unconvinced. At the head of the table, Jimin lets out a scoff and stands up, picking his plate and cup off the table to go discard them in the dishwasher. “It’s going to be something boring,” he drawls, bending over slowly to put away the dishes, letting the table get an eyeful of the tight black jeans he’s wearing. “He’ll wrap Y/n up in rope like tinsel on a Christmas tree and call it BDSM.”

An indignant cry comes from the table as Hoseok watches Jimin reach into the fridge, pulling out a single raspberry from the fruit drawer in there, and grin rakishly at the older man. “That’s not true at all,” Hoseok defends insistently, “I’m just easing her into it. Besides; let me show you something from the box and then we’ll see what you think.”

“How- wha-?” Yoongi’s mouth drops open as Hoseok reaches for the box and uses a knife from the lunch to cut the tape down the middle. “He doesn’t even like you! Why was he the one to convince you?”

Hoseok barely takes note, shielding the opening from your eyes as he digs around inside. It’s near impossible to restrain your curiosity, but you curl your ankles around the chair legs and force yourself to stay seated as he shoves his hand in.

You hear clinks, thuds, and scrapes, before Hoseok lets out a triumphant gasp and pulls his arm up, retrieving a braided leather handle, which he lifts out of the box to reveal a whip of sorts, complete with a neat pile of clean-cut leather strips. Your eyes widen as Hoseok sets it on the table with a weighty thunk, closing the box back up.

“Too boring for you?” Hoseok asks of Jimin with a challenging stare. One finger lazily trails along one of the tails of leather, neatly folded in a gathered loop on the table, making you swallow harshly at the thought of what one of those might feel like lashing across your skin.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Jimin returns to the table, inspecting it slowly. “And what are you going to do with that, big boy? Such a big flogger; I must admit, it seems like you’re overcompensating.”

Hoseok scoffs, a smirk playing at his lips. “I’ve caught you staring enough times, Peaches,” he taunts, “you and I both know that’s not true.”

This time, Jimin seems almost expectant of the nickname, and just rolls his eyes. “I’m surprised you noticed, seeing as your eyes are always locked onto my ass. Bet you wish you had a handful, huh?”

Hoseok frowns, pushing himself away from the table. “Did I eat too much or did the thought of dirtying my hands with you make me physically sick?” he questions rhetorically, making Jimin huff. “Anyways, I’ve got a scene to set up. Best for last, and all that.”

With a flourish, Hoseok picks up the whip - or, as Jimin had said, flogger - handle between two fingers and throws the tail of leather strips over his shoulder, lifting the box into his arms with a light grunt of exertion. Suddenly, he turns his gaze to you, warm but firm. “The downstairs bathroom; be there in half an hour wearing your underwear and only your underwear.”

You suck in a breath when he suddenly leans in close, hoisting the box on his hip as he uses the opposite hand to reach out and fiddle with your bra strap, snapping it against your shoulder with a teasing smile. “If you want to make Master happy,” he says in a voice like crushed velvet, “pick something pretty.”

Hoseok disappears down the hallway with all the drama of a Disney villain, sans a cape to billow behind him, and Yoongi lets out a slow sigh, getting up from his chair. “Well, I’m going to go outside and try and forget about all the debauchery in here. Anyone else?”

Namjoon straightens up immediately, hips bumping against the table. “Sounds good to me,” he rushes out, still looking a little pale from seeing that sneak peek of Hoseok’s box of toys.

Jimin, on the other hand, glances up towards the ceiling with a thoughtful expression. “You two go ahead,” he states, “I think the little ones upstairs could use another judge.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows lift, almost looking like he’s about to reconsider his choice to leave, but Namjoon is already suggesting they could bring out some board games or a pack of cards, and as usual Yoongi is softer than he likes to think he is.

Once everyone has left you alone in the living room, you slump back onto the table, letting out a breath. Your skin is already tingling relentlessly wondering what those strips of leather would feel like raining down on your skin. And that tool must have only been taking up a small portion of that box. It was heavy, full with other surprises that you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

Taking a look at the time, you curse and scamper upstairs to track down something pretty for Hoseok.

--

It’s impossible to stop your mind from conjuring up countless images of what could be waiting for you. Big posts of metal or wood to tie a sub to, chains and latex and the Hollywood taboo of kink that comes to mind. But in the end, it seems trying to picture anything at all was a useless venture, as when you make it downstairs and knock on the door exactly thirty minutes after Hoseok let you, what’s inside is not anything you would have ever expected.

The bathroom itself is decently large, with flat tile all over, a row of showerheads without the luxury of cubicles, a large bath set into one corner, and a bench with a mirror.

But in the middle of the room, closer to the bench than the showers, sits Hoseok.

There’s nothing around him bar a single empty chair that he inclines his head towards, silently instructing you to sit. You glance around in suspicion, but the cardboard box is folded up just beside him and there’s nothing else to see.

Hoseok himself quite easily takes his spot as the centre of attention, though. As you sit gingerly on the wooden chair, grimacing at the scraping sound of the legs on the floor, you look him over. As usual, he makes his statement in black. Hoseok dons boots that lace up to just below his knees, tight leather pants, and a collared shirt that shimmers slightly in the light, like expensive silk. Around his middle is a belt that tightly cinches his waist, accentuating his chest and shoulders. With his hair parted and slightly curling to one side, you don’t miss the way his eyebrow quirks up. “Are you quite done?”

Your cheeks heat, and you lean back until you can feel the chair digging in. “Sorry.”

“Sorry, who?”

“Sorry, Sir,” you stutter out as quickly as you can, lowering your gaze.

“Dear me, I hope you haven’t forgotten your manners already,” he croons with a faux look of disappointment, crossing a leg over his knee. “Lucky for you, our scene hasn’t started yet. I want to have a little conversation with you first.”

You swallow, eyes darting down to that cardboard box, curiosity eating you up from the inside. “What do you want to talk about, sir?”

Hoseok’s eyes soften slightly and he laces his fingers over the top of his knee. “You and I are going to have a talk together as two adults, princess. I know we have the consent forms and safewords, but this one requires a little more direct communication. Normally in a scene, you’d be kneeling or I’d be standing right now, but I want you to be fully aware that we are having this discussion as equals. Understood? You can ask questions, raise concerns, anything you need.”

Though your heart hasn’t stopped racing, you feel yourself beginning to calm, relieved for a chance to properly prepare yourself and see what’s going to happen. “Yes, understood. Sir.”

Hoseok’s eyes fleck with mirth as he tilts his head. “First of all; are you allergic to soy or paraffin? I know we have the allergy sheets, but I’d feel safer double-checking.”

You frown, brows knitting in confusion. “Soy? Like soy sauce? And no, I’m not allergic to either of them.”

When Hoseok smiles to reveal his teeth, you catch a glimpse of his dom side, even as he maintains a friendly disposition. “Soy candles, princess.”

A flicker of alarm rushes through you, and you clasp your hands together, fiddling your digits to keep calm. “Is this like, pouring hot wax? I don’t know, Hoseok…”

“It wasn’t a hard limit you listed,” Hoseok reminds gently, “has that changed?”

You swallow. “I- no, it hasn’t but it’s still a soft limit, and I don’t know if-”

“That’s why I wanted to sit down and have a talk with you about it,” he explains without missing a beat, “and if, at the end, you want to keep it as a limit, we’ll do something else. I don’t mind forfeiting the challenge and taking a week in the bunks; they’re perfectly comfortable.” You still don’t answer, feeling scarily vulnerable in a bra and lace panties, nothing but a loose satin robe over top to keep you a little warm and covered. Hoseok’s warm expression keeps you anchored. “Wax play isn’t explicitly pain play, it can be sensation play just like running an ice cube over your skin. And I’ve been doing it for years, princess, if you know what you’re doing, it’s perfectly safe. Do you want to hear me out? There are no obligations.”

You suck in a deep breath, taking a second to think. “I want to at least hear you first,” you decide, “but I really don’t know.”

“I understand entirely,” Hoseok says, and a strange change overtakes his face as he bends down to slip open the folds keeping the box closed. It’s a slight lifting of his brows, pursing of his lips while still being relaxed. The almost stern look of a teacher as he pulls out a weighty red candle, rolling it over in his palm. He glances back at you, presenting it. The two of you are seated close enough together that you only have to lean forward to take it from him.

He lets you look over it as he speaks, his voice soothing and practiced. “This is a pillar candle,” he explains, “see how it’s quite girthy? When you light a candle like that, the molten wax pools in the middle. So when you go to tip it, you can control how much wax you want to pour and when. Some people will have at least two candles burning so that they can alternate. These ones are soy, but I brought paraffin too in case you had an allergy.”

Out of curiosity, you dig your nail into the top, by the fresh wick, and watch thick red wax build up under the nail. “Doesn’t it burn you?” you question. “Like it got melted because of actual fire, surely it would burn.”

Hoseok shrugs. “Not with the right wax.” He takes it back from you, flipping it up to show off the base where a small white sticker displays some information about the candle in tiny print. “Soy and paraffin both tend to melt at roughly the same temperature, and it’s low enough that it won’t burn you. The further away you drop it from affects the temperature when it gets to your skin, too. But candles like beeswax melt at a very high temperature. Those can be dangerous, and you’d never catch me or anyone at Red using them. Now-!” Slipping the short, fat candle back into the box with a soft thud, he pulls out a second one. This one is black, and thin with a pointed end at the top. “This one is a taper candle. There’s no room for the wax to build up, so when you light it, it’ll drop the melted wax one drop at a time. The advantage is that it’s handy for constant use, and very easy to maneuver. One of my friends at Red actually uses it in suspension bondage. She’ll tie up her sub and slip a lit taper into the rope somewhere so that it drips on, say, the sub’s back or stomach. You can imagine if you where tied up and blindfolded, feeling a single drop of heat at a time would be a pretty intense experience.”

The dom breaks off with a laugh at the look on your face, and promptly slips it back in the box. “For our purposes, I’m going to use the pillar. It means that I can easily stop at any time and let the wax just sit in that little divot at the top without it getting everywhere. Still with me?”

You nod quickly, shifting on the chair. Perhaps it’s the hypnotic, soothing lilt of his voice as he walks you through it, or perhaps you’re just realising that it’s not as scary as it seems, but that soft limit is getting softer and softer. “You can go on,” you state in a small voice.

Hoseok’s beam is addicting, brightening the room as he lets out a pleased hum and stands up. Instead of approaching you, however, he walks right past to the bench, fiddling with something in the sink there before he’s filling it up. “An important safety measure,” he explains, “is to have a water source nearby. In case it’s too hot, or the candle catches on anything. I’m doing it in here so that there’s not really anything flammable like carpet or curtains, but there’s no such thing as being too safe.”

You watch him shake the water off his hand with a fond smile. He returns to sit across from you, nudging the open box with his foot. “We have some other surprises in here, but nothing too wild apart from the flogger. How are you feeling about it?”

Your heart skips a beat when you recall it, the satisfying whip of air as he threw it over his shoulder earlier. “I’m nervous, but I really want to try it.”

“Excellent,” he says warmly. “And the wax? We can take it slow, try it out a bit and then I’ll check back in, yeah? Just because we’ll be in the scene doesn’t mean this communication is cut off.”

You suck in a slow breath, biting your lip. Hoseok gives you time to think, waiting patiently and without expectation, but you know that you want to at least try chasing that thrill deep inside you. “I wanna give it a go too.”

Hoseok’s look of pride makes your decision feel all the more right. “That’s my girl,” he chimes, “so brave for me.” Without further notice, his eyes darken, and his smile turns less sweet and more sly. “You know Master will make it good for you, right?”

You shiver beneath the thin layer of satin and lace. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he coos, “I want you to make a choice now, princess. I’ll let you choose what you wish to have first? Candles or the flogger?”

You feel slightly paralysed by the sudden decision making, brain already beginning to slow down. “Flogger please, sir.”

“So polite,” he praises, “alright, then. I want you to stand up and take that robe of yours off.”

You do so with a quickening pulse, but Hoseok doesn’t even spare a second glance at you, instead shifting the box over to the bench, pulling out… something that definitely isn’t the flogger.

Hoseok turns to you with a grin, dangling a chain on a single finger. At either end, leather cuffs twirl and bump each other, familiar to ones you’d used on the show before. Unlike the other pair, which were pretty simple and basic, this pair look beautiful enough to be a regular fashion accessory. The leather is thick but not stiff, and they’re done up with silver buckles, adjustable for size. What really catches your attention, however, is the gorgeous red trim of the softest velvet, a deep colour that makes it look unbelievably expensive. As he approaches, you notice that the insides of the cuffs are embossed with the symbol you recognised from the box. Two Rs facing away from each other, with delicately curled strokes.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” Hoseok asks rhetorically. “They’re from the dungeon, if you hadn’t already guessed. Show me your wrists.” You rush to obey, sighing when you feel cool velvet encase around your left wrist, Hoseok deftly fastening the cuff as he continues to talk. “We have a colour code for everyone that comes in our doors. All spectators wear a simple black wristband. If you’re there to play, doms get armbands and subs get cuffs. Green means free use, anyone inside those walls wearing a cuff or a armband can play with you-” he doesn’t miss the way you shudder at the concept of being totally at the mercy of a roomful of strangers, arms pulling closer to your sides defensively, “-blue means looking. You’re open to negotiation, but there needs to be a kink negotiation and mutual agreement before you begin to play.” Hoseok moves to your other wrist, making sure the cuff is snug, but not cutting off circulation. “Can you guess what red means, princess?”

You can’t bear to look away from the gorgeous cuffs that adorn your wrists. You can feel the weight of the chain that connects them as it swings below. “Taken,” you offer in an uncertain voice.

“That’s right.” Even though you aren’t looking directly at him, you can sense Hoseok’s grin. He gracefully hooks the chain on his finger, lifting it up and tugging it to watch your wrists jerk towards him. “And can you guess why I picked red for you?”

You think you know the answer. But you become overcome with the desire to hear him say it. You lift your gaze to his, shaking your head slowly. “I don’t know.”

Hoseok sees right through you, tilting his head. “I think you do,” he counters, “but I’ll happily tell you.” He yanks again, making you stumble forward into his chest. With an arm bracing you against him, Hoseok bends down to murmur in your ear. “Because you’re mine.” With the teasing slowness of a cat playing with its food, he brushes your hair back, fingertips light against the bare skin of your neck and shoulders. “Do you want to know something funny? The entire time you’ve been in there, you haven’t thought to look up.”

It happens quickly. Just as you lift your chin to seek out what he’s referring to, you feel a pull on your wrists. Hoseok’s grip on you loosens but the tug on your wrists continues until they’re stretching right up above you. The moment you set your eyes on the hook dangling from the ceiling - what looks like thick, industrial grade steel - you see the chain loop onto it and suddenly you can’t drop your arms anymore.

You tug them, a natural instinct to escape the hold, and the unforgiving way your body is stretched out makes your chest pound a little with alarm,heels only just resting on the floor. Hoseok’s hands are on you, palms hot as they smooth up and down your sides and back, soothing you. Your racing pulse starts to slow, even as your arms tremble.

“That’s better,” he remarks, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. “Would you believe that hook was there when we came?”

Your lips twitch. “Honestly? No, sir.”

He flicks you a wink, patting your ass fondly. “You would be surprised. Used to be a fixture for a chandelier. Who the fuck needs a chandelier in a bathroom?” You suppress a laugh, knowing that your nervous giggles will get the best of you if you give them a chance, but Hoseok sees that he’s managed to calm you down quite a bit, and slips back into the velvety depths of his dominant persona once again. His hand hasn’t moved from your ass, and you suck in a sharp breath through your nose as his fingers slip beneath the lace, gripping the flesh there, unable to move away from it.

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know,” he starts with a casual air, massaging your ass openly even as his eyes stay fixed on yours, monitoring your every expression, “been waiting to turn that pretty ass of yours red. Let’s take these pretty panties of yours off first.”

You relax your thighs to let the strip of fabric sneak past, and when he bares your bottom half, tucking the cream-coloured lace into his back pocket, you shiver for a different reason entirely. You feel the wetness between your thighs begin to run down now that it’s unhindered by your panties, and your nipples are stiff, begging to be touched.

Hoseok isn’t so merciful, however, and when he glances down and sees them, he flicks lightly at one with an amused chuckle. “Desperate little one, aren’t you? Now, princess, I’m going to go over to the bench and get my flogger. Are you okay here alone? I’m not leaving you; I’ll only be out of your sight for a moment.”

The tile feels so cold and unforgiving under your toes as you shift, the chain preventing you from going far. “Yes, sir,” you say, but Hoseok clearly senses your hesitance.

Eyes imploring, warm yet serious, he tips up your chin with his knuckles gently. “Do you trust me? I’ll be no more than ten seconds. How about this? In your head, chant ‘Master is a good kisser’ three times, and I’ll be back.”

Your eyes round, wetting your lips. “How would I kn-umph!” Your question is cut off prematurely as Hoseok ducks down and demonstrates; a firm, bruising kiss that’s only heightened by the bondage restricting your movements. You can’t touch him, or move closer. You just have to sit and take it, and your mind feels heady as his lips press roughly against yours, teeth tugging on your lower lip enough to sting. By the time he pulls away, you feel breathless, the tension of the cuffs the only thing keeping you on your feet.

Hoseok gently buffs you on the cheek with another wink. “Don’t forget the magic words, princess,” he chimes, “I’ll be right back.”

And, though only two weeks ago the feeling of having him out of sight and out of reach had freaked you out to the point of safewording, the tingle in your lips and that admittedly accurate mantra - Master is a good kisser - keep your mind occupied enough that before you reach the end of the third recitation, Hoseok has stepped back into your line of vision, giving you an expectant look. “Still with me?”

“Yes, sir.” You nod with it, though you can’t bring yourself to look at him, so captivated by the flogger in his hand. He holds it like a seasoned expert, which you don’t doubt he is. The handle is black braided leather, with two thicker balls on either end like a dumbbell, no doubt for ease of grip. His hand wraps around the narrower middle section, but loose enough that his fingers look relaxed around it. Though he holds the handle upright slightly, the strips of leather fall straight down in a single cascade, neatly kept together.

Observing your trained eye, Hoseok laughs and steps closer, sliding the leather over his palm to display it for you. “Shall we have a quick lesson? This here is a perfect beginner’s flogger. Perfectly balanced with a weighted handle and clean-cut leather. These strips here, they’re called falls. The less you have or the thinner they are, the more it stings like a whip would. This one has probably around 30, 35 falls. Proper garment leather. Expensive, but well-crafted.” His hand shifts, clasping around the ends, which he spreads apart with a thumb. “You see how the ends are rounded? Some falls have forked tips, pointed tips, or straight-cut ones. The pointier it is, the sharper the sensation. Rounded tips are best for a newbie like you.”

Suddenly, he drops the ends, letting them revert back to their single stream of leather spouting from the handle. The quick movement makes your eyes automatically jump up to his face, and you suck in a breath at how intense his gaze is on you. “You need to be very clear where your limits are, princess. Tell me if I’m going too hard. This is painplay, but it should still be pleasurable. Understood?”

You swallow. Now, with your body almost entirely naked, your body restrained and a very practiced dom standing in front of you with a flogger, the concept of pain is a little more concrete. But still, you trust him, and his ability to make it feel good for you. “Understood, sir.”

“Good.” Hoseok steps back, giving himself some distance as he eyes you up. With a smooth motion, his wrist begins to flick, and you instinctually recoil when the falls of the flogger start flying through the air in a graceful arc. They’re uniform in both width and length, probably just about as long as Hoseok’s arm, which stays perfectly still as he isolates the movement in his joint. Even if you weren’t in the metaphorical hot seat, this show of excellence and practiced skill would nevertheless add to the coil of arousal between your legs. He looks good like this, fully in his element. “Now,” he states, smirking at your telling reaction, “normally the best spots are the back of the shoulders, and the ass. But something tells me you’d rather see what I’m doing before letting me loose behind you. Would I be right in thinking that?”

You picture him going behind you and beginning to whip you with no context or warning. You nod your head quickly. “Yes please, sir.”

Hoseok smiles, slowing his wrist, before he begins flicking it the opposite way, the ends of the flogger curving downwards towards you instead of upwards. “Now, this flogger is a little thuddier than what I’d usually use on breasts, but since I’m only going to be very light, it’ll be just fine.”

You try to inch backwards, but the chain rattles and gives you away. “My breasts?”

Hoseok’s hand stills, his head cocking to one side as his brows come together. “Is there a problem, princess?”

His disapproval is clear, and you get the feeling that you’re treading on thin ice. But he said that communication wouldn’t stop here, so you forge ahead. “I’m not protesting, I’m just curious, sir. Why not somewhere easier like the stomach?”

Distaste wracks his features. “This isn’t going anywhere near your stomach,” he says firmly, “the organs there are unprotected. Anything vulnerable - joints, spine, the stomach and lower back, of course the head - they’re all off-limits. Do you understand that?” When he receives a nod, the line of tension in Hoseok’s shoulders relaxes. “Now, I need you to move your head back so that it’s between or behind your arms. Can you do that for me?”

Pushing your head through the gap in your upper arms, you shift until your whole face is between them, chin tilted slightly up. “May I ask why, sir?” you request in a small voice. Why did this whole thing feel so technical? And why were you still so wet from it?

“You may,” Hoseok replies bemusedly, “it just distances your face from the swings. Don’t worry-” he interjects quickly when your eyes widen in alarm, “the falls will be nowhere near your face. It’s just for our peace of mind. Do you still trust me?”

You manage to nod with your face bracketed by your arms, and with a rush of anticipation, watch Hoseok start up those quick circles, the leather whipping through the air in one bunch. Instead of stretching his arm forward, he steps in slowly, moving the falls getting closer and closer until the smooth stroke of impact flicks across your right breast.

You gasp, out of shock more than anything, but those strokes deliver a regular pattern, and it’s already lacing across your skin again, and again, an odd feeling that certainly isn’t unpleasant. There’s a distinct feeling of impact, without any real weight behind it, and the slightest hint of a sting that just serves to gradually warm the skin. Your chest is heaving, but Hoseok lands each blow with perfect accuracy, even stepping side-on between arcs and switching breasts.

The constant snap of contact helps you get used to it and calm down, and you can’t deny that it feels kind of...nice? There’s something satisfying and freeing about feeling those split second granules of pain and tolerating them, overcoming them. It doesn’t take long before you unconsciously arch your spine, seeking out something more than just light swats from the very tips of the falls.

Hoseok notices the moment you move and, frustratingly, he stops with a chuckle. “Did that turn you on, princess? Do you want more?”

You whine, tipping your head back further so he disappears out of your sight. Against the skin of your inner arms, your cheeks are raging hot. “Yes,” you admit in a defeated voice when he refuses to move on.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir?” you quip with a hopeful tone.

“Nice try,” Hoseok replies flatly, “I want you to say it, princess. Yes, what?”

You bite your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. There’s only silence. The heat has already left your breasts, and they feel strange without that lick of leather on them. “I want more, please, sir.”

“Good girl,” Hoseok coos, and in reward you feel the now-welcome flick of the falls on your breasts. This time, however, he stands directly across from you and twists his wrist over, casting figure eights, alternating left and right. You tremble at the feeling, squirming under it. Though it’s still light, every strike feels even more intense on your nipples, shooting sensation right between your legs.

“Sir,” you gasp out, “I w-want some more, sir.”

Hoseok answers without faltering, and his voice easily carries over the sound of the flogger. “Oh, do you? I can’t go any harder on these pretty little tits of yours, princess.” He pulls away, ceasing the motion. “If you want to continue, I’m going to have to go behind you. Are you okay with that?”

You push your reddened chest forward to no avail. “Fuck! Hoseok, yes, I’m okay with it,” you whine, unable to resolve any of the need in your core, needing more. Hoseok clicks his tongue in disapproval, and you curse internally at the slip. “Sir! Sorry, I’m okay with it, sir.”

“You better not forget your manners,” Hoseok warns, taking one step at a time, boots thudding on the tile as he circles you. “I’m flogging you for pleasure, because I like to treat and train you, but if you do that again, I can easily turn this into a punishment.”

The thought makes you moan, and your wrist jerks as you fruitlessly try to cover your mouth. Actually relieved he’s behind you for once, you let your head duck forward, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Hoseok chuckles. “It seems like you’re more of a painslut than you realise, princess,” he teases, and you’re given no warning before you feel a strike against your ass, making you jump with a yelp. Though it’s the same light figure eights as just before, these ones whip up from the bottom, so that every hit lands on the meat of your ass, avoiding your lower back. If the ones before were easy, these feel like child’s play. Whether you’ve gotten more used to the sensation, or the skin on your ass just isn’t as sensitive, you find yourself immediately wanting more, trying to lean back into it.

The dom isn’t pleased. “Did I say you could move?”

You don’t answer, hands reaching up to grip the chains that bind them as you bite down harshly on your tongue. “I can take more, sir,” you begin, but Hoseok cuts you off with a gruff noise of disapproval.

“Did I say you could move?” he repeats sharply.

You whine low in your throat. “No, sir,” you admit, “but I can-” You yelp and flinch when a single swat hits below the swell of your ass, across your thighs. It feels different there, stingier and less hazily pleasant. “I’m sorry-”

“That’s right, I didn’t,” Hoseok’s voice comes from behind you, cold and unforgiving. “In fact, I hung you up here to keep you still for me, so that I could play with you as I wished. If you insist on defying that, I’ll quite happily fetch a spreader bar so that you can’t move an inch.”

You furrow your brows, hating the feeling of making him mad. Hating even more that the sharpness in his tone and the filthy word he says just make you even needier, tightening your thighs together. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll behave,” you mumble shamefully.

You jump slightly when you feel something on your ass again, but it’s just his hand, cupping the flesh. “I’m doing this to warm you up. For your own safety. I’ve been doing this for years, princess, don’t forget that Master knows best.”

“Master knows best,” you repeat mindlessly, feeling yourself begin to slip. It’s a comforting thought just as much as it is an arousing one; Master knows what he’s doing, and all you need to do is take it.

“Exactly.” Hoseok sounds pleased, and just as your heart lifts in relief, the hits resume.

Eyes slipping closed, you let yourself tune everything else out. When you focus, when you really actively feel it, you can recognise every shift in his posture, or change in angle by how it feels on your skin. The strips of leather lash up, gradually causing the skin to heat up as the thuddy feeling stays longer and longer after each strike.

Before he ups the intensity, he simply speeds up his strokes, and you let out a pleased whine as the constant ebb and flow of pleasure-softened pain lull you deeper. The more you take, the less it hurts at all, even as the skin on your ass feels like it’s radiating heat.

The warmth floods to the rest of your body until even your toes aren’t cold against the tile. You feel like you could stand here forever, strung up and lost in the sensations he’s giving you. In fact, those dull edges of pain are so soothing that it feels almost therapeutic, worries and aches melting away, irrelevant in this space.

Hoseok finally deems your skin is sufficiently warmed up, and you whimper when the hits shift. Instead of friendly, playful flicks of leather, every strike echoes in the room, the thud of impact delivering a bolder note of pain.

Not that it’s bad, though. On the contrary, if the earlier flogging was lulling you into a sleepy bliss, these ones wake you up like a burst of energy with every swing. Without even realising, a dopey grin stretches your cheeks, and you find yourself no longer trying to muffle the pleased sighs that stutter out with every flick of Hoseok’s wrist.

“Fuck, look at you,” the dom croons, “a painslut indeed. You’re dripping onto the tiles, naughty girl.”

You moan openly, knuckles aching with how tightly you’re gripping the chains that hook your cuffs to the steel loop above. Your pussy aches with the need to be touched, but to do that Hoseok would have to stop whipping you, and your mind hisses at the thought. All you want is more, you can take more, you want to show him, to show yourself you can take more. Every burst of pain on your flesh is another victory, and it feels euphoric.

You stay in this headspace for a while as Hoseok maintains the same, regular hits. Eventually, the scream for more overwhelms you, and you seek out something more intense the quickest way you know how - disobedience. “Hoseokie,” you whine, “hit me harder.”

You could sob when his hand freezes, the next strike coming down without any bite, just a loose draping of the leather falls. As they linger on the skin, you realise just how sensitive and raw it’s gotten, feeling every edge of leather in sharper clarity. Hoseok holds it there for a moment, then drops, the silence in the room palpable. “Are you giving me orders? And without the proper title, no less.”

Pain bursts across your skin like a line of fire, the sharpest and strongest hit yet. Like the one across your thighs, this comes at an angle instead of the upstrokes of his circles or figure eights. You can imagine him holding it back, and whipping it down with a single, swift flick. The residue heat on your ass just makes you want another.

Instead of another hit, however, you cry out when you feel nails digging into the flesh, not scraping, just groping the globes of your ass in each hand. You can even feel the stiff leather of the handle pressing into your flesh on one side, and you whine at the sensation.

“I know what you want, princess,” Hoseok growls, his voice startlingly close as his breath wafts hot on the back of your neck. “And if painplay was the purpose of the scene, perhaps I’d whip you until you cried like you deserve.”

You sob. “Master, please-”

“It’s too late for that,” he cuts off sharply. “The time for begging is over. You’ve disappointed me. I was going to lift up your legs and fuck you right here, but you’ve showed me that you don’t deserve that yet.”

Unprecedented, your eyes brim with tears. Hoseok slips back into your line of sight, face stern as he tucks the handle of the flogger in his belt at the back, and reaches up to unhook you. Your legs are weak, but he carries your weight with ease, letting the chain dangle around the back of his neck as he walks you over to the bench.

Instead of propping you up on it, or sitting you on a chair, he helps you lie down on the cool tile, an immediate balm for the deep-set heat radiating from your ass. Even as his face is stiff with disapproval, he handles you so gently, ensuring you don’t knock your head on the way down.

“Just stay here a moment,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your eyes, “calm down a little bit. I have some candles to light.”

You feel strangely floaty, your emotions all over the place, but Master had asked you to calm down, so you try your best to settle them. It’s not a bad sensation once you relax a bit. Need burns fiercely between your thighs, but the last thing you want to do is upset him by breaking the rules, so you simply let your eyes slip closed and your thighs clench together. You’ll wait until Hoseok comes back to you, and then you’ll make things right by being extra good. The thought of pleasing him makes you smile, and when Hoseok’s voice wraps around you, checking that you’re still with him, it’s only too easy to chirp a contented, “yes, sir.”

When he returns, he’s slipping one hand under your head and the other behind your back, lifting you ever-so-slowly so that your head doesn’t spin. Once you’re up, you lean forward and cling to him, wanting nothing more than to be close. Hoseok lazily cards his fingers through your hair. “You’ve misbehaved,” he states slowly, “you haven’t earned an orgasm, princess, but I’m soft on you. I’ll give you the chance to win one, how about that?”

You blink dazedly, feeling clarity begin to seep back in. “Win?”

Pulling back, Hoseok smirks down at you. “We’re going to play a little game, you and I. Come; I want you on your hands and knees.”

Hoseok guides you over, though you’ve mostly gotten your strength back. On the floor, near the box, are two lit pillar candles. The flames dance cheerily, leaving behind wells of molten wax. One is the red candle you’d inspected earlier, and the other is a pure white, the wax melting clear. You prop yourself up on your hands and knees beside it, but the dom quickly corrects you, leading you to instead assume the position over the box, which almost reaches your stomach.

Upon receiving your questioning look, Hoseok rubs one hand over your reddened ass cheeks, soothing the flesh. “I don’t want you losing your balance and creating a large angle,” he explains shortly, “the wax could drip forward into your hair or, worse, drip back where I’m sure you don’t want it.”

You shudder at the thought, your pulse steadily quickening as the reality of what he’s about to do sets in. This feels even more unfamiliar and alien than the flogging did at the beginning, but you feel safe beneath his touch.

Hoseok gets on his knees behind you, and you could cry in relief when you hear a belt buckle clink, and then a zip lower. It takes no time at all for you to feel the blunt head of Hoseok’s cock pressing against your entrance until it begins to sink in.

You moan, arching your back enough that you fee the texture of cardboard on your stomach. After only receiving external stimulation - pain, nonetheless - until now, suddenly being speared on his tongue has you speechless, tongue heavy in your mouth and drool pooling in your cheeks.

“Feel good, princess?” Hoseok questions, giving your raw ass a playful swat when you cry out the affirmative. “I bet it does.” But when he bottoms out, leaving you deliciously full, he remains perfectly still. “Sadly, that’s all you’ll get for now. Do you want to hear the rules of the game?”

You sob lowly in your throat, elbows almost buckling as your walls clench around the unmoving intrusion. “Please, sir.”

“I’m going to write a word on you, princess. A special word. But it just so happens that I don’t have a pen on me, so I’ll use this wax instead.” The glimpses of red and white blink out of your peripheral as Hoseok drags them closer to himself. “You can guess each letter, and if you manage to get the word right once I’m finished, then I’ll let you cum. Does that sound fair?” Your reply is garbled, incoherent, but Hoseok doesn’t seem bothered. “Then let’s begin. Pay close attention, now.”

Your body naturally tenses up, eyes squeezed shut as you wait for a burst of pain, of searing heat. When something touches your skin, you automatically cry out, but quickly realise that it doesn’t hurt at all, instead, it’s like viscous warm water that slowly stiffens on your skin as it cools. The tightness in your chest loosens.

“That was a test patch, princess,” Hoseok says in a calm voice, devoid from his usual dom smugness. “Too hot? Not hot enough?”

You swallow. “It wasn’t hot,” you admit, “it’s not bad.”

“Understood,” he confirms, squeezing your hip in reassurance as you clench again around him, but the safety monitor Hoseok quickly takes a backseat to the Master persona. “First letter, princess. I’ll only do each one once.”

This time, when lines of warmth bloom on your back, concentrated in the top corner by your shoulder blade, you focus your mind on picturing the shapes they create. Something straight, then a small loop. The wax isn’t painful; on the contrary, it doesn’t feel hot when it first makes contact. As it sits, the skin heats up, but before it gets too warm, the wax has already cooled to mostly solid. Your fears melt away fully, and you tune back into the game. “D?” you guess.

“Close,” he allows.

You rack your mind. “P?”

You moan when Hoseok’s cock suddenly moves inside you, pulling out slowly and giving you a single, snapped thrust. “Correct,” he confirms, “next letter.”

This one feels similar, starting with the same straight line, slightly to the right of where the first patch fell. A straight line, something wobbly again with a line to end it. Your breath catches. “R? Is the word ‘princess?’”

“Guessing so soon,” Hoseok chimes, humour lacing his voice, “but wrong on both counts. It’s a vowel.”

You go down the list, comparing them against the already-fading memory of thick warmth on your skin. “E- no, A?”

“A is correct. This one’s easy.” After fucking into you once another time, he does a single stroke that you easily identify as an I, and then you hear the thud as he puts down one candle and picks up the other. “Let’s see how you look in red, princess. Next letter.”

It gets harder and harder to correctly name the letters as you go on. With every right answer, you’re rewarded with a second of pleasure before it ceases, and that paired with the arousing feeling of warm wax drizzling over your skin just has you feeling hazy. It takes you whole minutes to guess N, but lucky it’s followed by simple strokes of S, L, and U.

By the time he’s switched wax a couple times and is readying you for the last letter, you already know the word. But Hoseok drops the wax from a little lower every time, and you relish the heat more and more with each letter, and you’ll take whatever else you can get.

At this point, the only space left on you is low on your back, just in from your waist. You squeeze your eyes shut, already knowing that he’s going to paint two strokes: one horizontal and one vertical. So instead, you allow yourself to just feel it for what it is.

He tips the pillar candle - red or white, you’ve long since lost track - and you moan openly as you feel fluidity, then heat, which crests and settles into a seal of solid wax. Hoseok wastes no time before completing the letter, one longer line going down in a thick trail that threatens to drip down your side.

“‘s T,” you slur out before he can even ask, tightening your walls around him as he snaps his hips a single time so that you can feel every inch of him. Even the sound of the one movement is obscene; you’re so wet that it runs down your thighs and soaks his cock, but Hoseok’s not complaining.

Instead, you whine as you feel his nails on your shoulder, dislodging the fully hardened wax from the beginning. It’s a strange sensation, there’s a minute suction to breaking that seal, but it lifts off so smoothly when he’s careful like that. “And can you tell me the word, princess? I picked it out just for you.”

Sighing out, you nod shakily. “Painslut,” you gasp.

“That’s right,” Hoseok replies warmly, even as his nails curl and drag down rough enough to crumble the wax in his path, leaving stinging lines over your skin. “You’re my little painslut, aren’t you? Say it, and I’ll give you your reward.”

“I’m your little painslut,” you moan out, back arching under the relentless way he dislodges slivers of dried wax, exposing the sensitive skin beneath.

Without further preface, Hoseok bends over to quickly blow out the two candles, shift them further away, and then straightens up to grip your hips with hands slightly slippery from the soy.

When he begins fucking into you properly, with the full force of his powerful hips, you’re pushed forward onto the cardboard box, a cry punched from your throat. He doesn’t wait this time, just as steady and unforgiving as the circles his flogger made earlier.

You feel the weight of his balls slapping against you, his hip bones pressing into your sensitive ass, and his nails dig in sharply to give you that delicious pain that had become just as potent as pleasure. You feel him inside you, too; mercilessly parting your walls and stretching you around him until it feels like you can’t breathe.

Your mouth spills a constant stream of garbled moans and pleas, doing your best to fuck yourself back on him to feel him deeper. “Fuck, Master, I’m so close,” you manage to make out, “can I cum, sir?”

Hoseok growls deep in his throat, and you squeal helplessly as his pace picks up until you can’t even stop yourself from drooling onto the tile, jerked about within his grip. “Cum for me, princess,” he commands, “cum on my cock now.”

In your body’s final effort to please your Master, your orgasm follows only a few thrusts later, and you go limp and shivery against the support of the cardboard box, clinging to it as Hoseok chases his own high.

Having cum from g-spot stimulation alone, the orgasm seems to reach as deep as your bones, and you ride the wave longer. By the time you’re finally beginning to come down, pleasure slowly turning to oversensitivity, Hoseok’s thrusts are stuttering, and he’s suddenly pulling out of you, grunting as a different kind of heat spurts over your back.

You’re panting, hugging the box you’re curled over as you feel Hoseok’s cum run down the divot of your spine, slowly cooling. You can still feel the dry flakes of wax that cling to you, and even as Hoseok gently helps you off the solid tile floor, you see shavings and slivers of red and white falling to the ground.

Hoseok’s dropped the Master persona entirely by now, and you hum happily as he checks you over, fingertips running across the skin of your back and ass. “No pain still persisting?”

“Well, my ass still kinda stings,” you admit, “but nothing seriously painful, no.”

He furrows his brows in concern as he straightens up in front of you. “And the wax was okay?”

You smile shyly and a little dopily, still coasting on the endorphins the pain and temperature play had released. “I’m probably going to go to Sejin and get him to change it to a definite interest, actually. It was great, Hoseok. You were great. Thank you.”

Hoseok’s eyes warm as he fondly buffs you on the underside of your chin. “Well; I say we have a nice shower and clean you up, and then we can go into the kitchen for some ice cream. Get your sugar levels back up, how about that?”

You could laugh, but you feel too blissed out to even exert that much energy. “I’m not sure there’s any ice cream left, actually.”

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

Please vote for your favourite member in the house according to Week Three only. Vote here. You need to sign in to prevent spamming, but I delete the survey after the 48 hours is up. All I take note of is the pie chart at the end. I’m very excited to see what the results will be !

And so we meet our fourth guest... Confused? Check bonus content four, five and six for the other three teasers ;)

[theimprobabledreamersworld]

Don’t Let Them Hurt You- Ao3

It took a lot longer that planned, but this Pintroverts one shot is complete! :D

The plot around this one is based on Nico getting an anon hate message on song lyrics he posted online, and Thomas then comforts him and helps him see past it... It was something I had sitting in my WIP folder for a while but initially I was struggling with writing it. So I delved into the realm of personal experience for the hurt and the comfort parts ☺️

I hope you enjoy reading it! <3

General writing taglist: @psychedelicships @jwillowwolf @lost-in-thought-20 @writerwithtoomanyships @red-imeanblue (If you’d like to be added/removed let me know!)

Read on Ao3!

Don’t Let Them Hurt You.

Pintroverts. Hurt/Comfort/Fluff

Warnings: Upset moments, anon hate message, self-deprication.

Nico scribbled furiously, his pen refusing to leave the crumpled piece of paper he found in his bag. The song lyrics raced into his mind while he was out with Thomas an hour ago. He smiled as he thought about his new boyfriend. It was like a breath of fresh air, a clarity in his clouded over world, the writer’s block he had been struggling with for months went away almost instantly after they met in that food court as few months ago. Before, he would stare at his laptop willing words to appear, but his mind wasn’t in it and his fingers wouldn’t type. As the days ticked on and not even a single word appeared on the screen, the lack of motivation set in, and he almost gave up on his newest project… but Thomas crashed his way into Nico’s life and stopped that from happening. In fact, he had already set up several more documents with song ideas in them ready to write as soon as he could, and he couldn’t wait to share them with the people who followed his blog.

Nico’s little following were always so kind and supportive, they were the main reason he kept going with writing songs. People have asked if they can perform his lyrics and he was always blown away by the sheer talent of some of his followers. How he got so lucky, he would never know, but Nico valued every single of them. He finally reached the end of the page, and as the pen fell to the paper with a satisfied clatter, he took a deep breath and pushed the chair away from the desk. He sighed and stretched his arms above his head.

He was never one to speak very positively about himself, but he had a feeling that this was his best song yet. All he needed to do was look it over, type it up and publish it. He hoped that his followers would feel the same. He felt like he should wait for Thomas to come back from getting take-out so he could be the first one to see it, he was the inspiration for it after all. However, the excitement got the better of him, and he remembered that Thomas has notifications on for his blog, so he would be one of the first people to see it. His mind was made up and Nico raced off to get the lyrics typed up.

The word document was opened with lightning speed. The blank space was suddenly being filled with words and emotions at a rapid pace, it was becoming a tapestry right before his eyes and he began to realise just how much he had missed writing. Sooner rather than later, he was finished. He started at his finished work and then opened his blog. Should he really post this? It was his most emotive song yet, and it definitely makes it clear that there is someone in his life now. He couldn’t be happier. How someone as amazing as Thomas wants to be a part of his life, he’ll never work out, but he wasn’t complaining. He took a deep breath before opening his blog and creating a post. He fingers shook a little as he typed out his usual message that he puts at the end of all of his posts.

‘Hey everyone! Just wanted to thank you all once again for your support and patience while I took a while to come up with some new song lyrics! I owe this one to someone incredibly special who crashed into my life recently, and I hope it comes across in this song <3 I genuinely don’t feel like I deserve the support you give me but know that I value you all with my heart and soul. Nico <3’

The overwhelming sense of pride as he hit ‘post’ made his heart beat agonizingly fast, but he couldn’t keep the blog open otherwise he would start to worry about what people think. So he texted Thomas instead checking in to find out what time he’d be coming over. The reply came through almost instantly, 20 minutes, only 20 minutes he had to wait. As Thomas signed off with the signature purple heart, he smiled and held his phone close to his chest. Nico felt his pulse continue to race, he had never felt this for anyone else before and it was unusual, but in the best way possible.

His laptop began to ping with notifications and even though he tried to ignore them, he caved and opened his blog up. To say that Nico was blown away by the response would have been the biggest understatement of the century. He smiled widely as more comments and reactions poured in, at least other people liked the song lyrics as much as he did. He felt on top of the world, until one more comment popped up and it felt like the world was crashing down around him in a matter of seconds.

‘It's true that creators aren't entitled to support, but you. You don't deserve anywhere near as much support as you're getting. There are so many creators out there that are much better than you and they don't get recognition. What you post is nothing special, so how about you stop and let people get support who actually deserve it, you're not worth the time of day.’

Nico stared at the comment until he could almost burn a hole through his laptop screen. He’d never had a hate comment before, and he didn’t know how to take it. He was being so dramatic, it was one hate comment, but that was enough to knock him for six. His heart hurt; his mind was fighting the thoughts racing around. He backed away from his laptop until he hit the wall and he slowly slumped down it, holding his crumpled paper copy of the lyrics tightly in his hand. Is this what people really thought of him?

Well, they were right. He always said that he never deserved the support he was given. Why should he have anyone reading his work when there are other creators that are exponentially better than him? He was a nobody who wrote songs, what was that really? It’s not as if he was a singer, or an artist… someone of worth. He shouldn’t stand in the way of others, what was so special about him? That commenter was just bold enough to say what everyone was clearly thinking behind their screens. Of course it wasn’t real. People can say what they want when no one will ever work out who they are. He laughed bitterly as the tears fell down his face. How could he have been so stupid? No one likes what he does, of course they wouldn’t. He slumped his head on his legs and held his breath until he couldn’t contain his sadness anymore.

The doorbell rang, and he sighed. Of course, Thomas was going to see him like this… that’s going to scare him off. He got up, hesitantly walking to front door and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. God, he was a mess. His eyes were red raw from crying, and his hair was a mess where he clawed at it. He let one person get to him, one anonymous person hiding behind a screen, and he hated himself for it. As the front door opened, Thomas was putting something in his pocket while holding a bag of Chinese food.

“Hey! I saw your song! Nico, it’s incredible- hell, you’re incredible!” Thomas beamed but when he looked up, his smile dropped, and worry clouded over his eyes in an instant. Nico must have looked a mess, he was expecting Thomas to drop the food and run, he wouldn’t blame him.

“Nico? What’s wrong? Hey, hey, hey. Come on, let’s get inside.” As soon as Thomas asked what was wrong, he broke again. The tears began to cascade, and Nico hid his face behind his hands, he felt a hand wrap around his waist and gently bring him back into the apartment. As he was guided to the sofa, he heard Thomas scurrying around the kitchen putting the bag down then coming in to sit next to Nico. He rubbed his hand gently up and down Nico’s back, whispering that everything was okay. The tears began to subside, and he leaned into Thomas’ touch who happily reciprocated. He felt a kiss on his forehead, and he wiped his face of the residual tears off his face.

“So… can you tell me what has got the literal embodiment of sunshine this upset?” Nico smiled slightly and Thomas played with his hair, feeling himself instantly relax at the touch.

“I don’t know if I can… but… just look at my laptop. It should be there.” Thomas looked a little worried before heading over to the desk and reading the words on the screen. Nico saw Thomas’ hands clench until his knuckles turned white and saw how his breathing became slightly labored. The only comforting thing he could think of was, at least he didn’t imagine the whole thing. Thomas marched back over to the sofa and took Nico’s head in his hands before kissing him gently and he pressed their foreheads together.

“Now, you, Nico Flores need to listen to me. You are amazing, you are fantastic and so damn talented that it makes my head spin. The fact that one person is saying something horrendous while hiding behind a screen, it doesn’t take anything away from you. I mean, look at all of these amazing people supporting you and sending you love for your latest song!” Thomas went to the laptop and brought it over to Nico, the comments underneath the hate were flooded with positivity and love, he beamed when he scrolled though, seeing people defend him made his heart feel full.

“Everyone else feels the same way I do about you. You have a phenomenal way with words, they way you write is captivating and you’ve inspired me more than you know. You’ve inspired countless others too. Your posts are special, you’re unique in your own way… let some jealous nobody stay just that… a nobody. Don’t let them hurt you, hun. You deserve all the love in the world, and I will give you all I can! If anything, I don’t deserve someone as incredible as you. You give so much kindness, so much happiness to others… you’ve gotta save some of that for yourself too.” Nico smiled and looked down at the floor, everything Thomas said was true. He could feel all of his sadness and pain melt away so he wrapped his arms around Thomas, hoping he could say thank you without words, otherwise he’d start crying for a different reason this time.

“Right, okay. Let’s reheat the food and we’re just going to watch trashy tv until I have to go home. Sound good?” He nodded eagerly as Thomas stood up holding his hand out for Nico to take, and they talked in the kitchen until the microwave made its call. As they sat together arm in arm until late into the evening laughing at a comedy show re-run, Nico thanked his lucky stars that Thomas crashed into his life. When Thomas had let him know that he was home safe, Nico fell asleep smiling and forgetting the events of the day.

His alarm blared out across his bedroom and Nico rubbed his bleary eyes, attempting to find his glasses to turn off his phone. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he realised it wasn’t an alarm, it was a series of text notifications. He stared as he noticed the time, it was rare that he slept in till 1pm but last night was the exception. Nico unlocked his phone and read the stream of texts from his favourite person.

‘Hey! Good morning, Sunshine! I hope you’re feeling better today <3’

‘You are amazing and fantastic; I can’t imagine my world without you in it <3’

‘Anywaaay, I’m rambling now haha. You have that effect on me ;) <3’

‘So, I know you're probably still resting, you had a rough day yesterday! But, when you wake up… go look at my YouTube channel okay? I’ve got a surprise for you <3’

Nico smiled as he read through the texts, and then he immediately went onto YouTube where a new video from Thomas immediately sat at the top of the page. He clicked on it and turned the volume all the way up, he heard music begin and Thomas was standing in the middle of his apartment singing. Nico stared in awe at how amazing his voice was, he’s heard him multiple times, but he was always blown away every time. It wasn’t until he started singing a particular part that Nico gasped and put a hand over his mouth.

‘If my arms were on a clock, I'd stop the time to be with you. Eternity I'd stop, just to be with you.’

These were his song lyrics from yesterday. He couldn’t believe how perfectly Thomas had captured the song, the emotions he was trying to express. It was a complicated symphony but sung with a perfect simplicity that made the words more powerful. He felt tears welling up in his eyes once again, he couldn’t believe that Thomas would do this for him and as the screen faded to black, he went to text Thomas but then he saw him pop back up on the screen.

“Hey guys! So, it’s been a little while since I’ve posted any music covers on here. I really, really hope you love this song as much as I do! The lyrics were written by my wonderful boyfriend, Nico. As soon as I read the lyrics, I knew I had to arrange and perform this song with the help of some brilliant friends who came together very last minute to help me out. I just… wanted to show the guy that I adore that he is amazing, and the words that he writes have the power the make the world a brighter place. So, Nico. This is all for you. Thank you to all my friends who came together to help, their links are in the description below. Thank you to Nico for inspiring me, his song blog is linked below. Thank you to all of you for watching, and until next time… Take it easy, guys, gals and non-binary pals. Peace out!”

Nico smiled proudly as he watched Thomas smile his trademark goofy smile as the video faded to black for the final time. He went back to the beginning and played the video again as he grabbed he phone and text Thomas.

‘Thank you for everything you did for me yesterday. The song and the video are incredible, you should share some of that talent Mr. Sanders ;) Seriously Thomas, I’m the luckiest man in the world to be with you <3’

He sent the text, and then the doorbell rang unexpectedly. Nico looked at the front door suspiciously, he wasn’t expecting anyone. He crept over and peered through the looking glass then opened it as fast as possible. Thomas was holding a large bouquet of flowers and a speaker. He smiled and kissed Thomas on the cheek before taking the flowers out of Thomas’ hands and smelling the delicate scent. Brightly coloured Roses, Chrysanthemums, Delphiniums, and Irises. They were simply perfect, just like the man in front of him.

“I needed to see you, and I thought I could give you a live performance of the song?” Thomas smiled holding the speaker up in air, Nico invited him in and quickly put the flowers into a vase he kept for ornamental purposes. They were truly beautiful, and he was impressed that Thomas remembered what his favourite flowers were after talking about it on the first date. When he turned around, music was almost swirling around them, and Thomas was standing in the middle of the room. He reached out for Nico’s hand, as their hands touched, Thomas pulled him in close and they slow danced while Thomas sang. As the song drew to a close, they came to a stop and this time, Nico pulled Thomas in for a kiss. When they parted, they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other.

“You’re my entire world now, Mr. Sanders.”

“And you are mine, Mr. Flores.”

[sandwichrin]

A Little into You (Junkyu x Reader) (Ch. 25)

Chapter 25 - Bridge Burn

Word count: 6.4k words

Genre: Fanfiction, PG13, Comedy, Romance.

A/N: Hi! :’) Here’s the update! Also, this chapter’s a little longer than usual-- I hope you all don’t mind 😥 also! Hope you all enjoy this one, please look forward for the next one <3

“I just don’t get why he’d ask you to run errands for him like this,” Soomin nagged as she helped grab several napkins and paper straws from the side of the counter.

You were standing beside her, a receipt in your hand as your eyes scanned the items in the list, making sure that you’ve ordered every single one that Bomin had asked for.

“Aigoo, unnie. Just let it be. It’s the least I could do anyways,” you said with a sigh.

Soomin shook her head at this. “Erm no way. I’m not putting up with this. He was never like this, you know? He’s always been a gentleman, respectful to everyone,”

“Sure, unnie,” you replied, not paying full attention to what she was saying as your head kept glancing over at the order pickup counter, in case your order has completed.

“Did you see the glare I gave him when he called you to gather orders from everyone in the room? The nerve! Asking my staff to run around taking orders like a waitress!” she continued nagging, clearly dissatisfied as to how her very own best friend was treating her staff—well, you in particular.

You chuckled, “It’s fine, unnie. I don’t have much tasks to do anyways.”

Soomin frowned at you. “Don’t let people step on you like that, y/n.”

“I won’t.”

“But you’re complying to whatever he tells you to do,”

“We’re working with him, unnie. Doesn’t that make him sort of my boss too for the time being?”

“Yeah, but I’m your leader. I get the final say,”

You let out another sigh, aware that you’re not going to win this argument with your leader. You simply nodded and replied an ‘okay’ to her to make sure she drops the subject already.

You glanced over the watch on your wrist, noticing that it was almost lunchtime.

“Oh, right,” Soomin’s voice said, making you turn to her again.

“Hm?”

“Do you have something going on with that guy?” Soomin asked casually as she fixed her strand of wavy hair to the back of her ear.

You tilt your head in response, not knowing who she was referring to.

“Oh come on, y/n. Don’t give me that look.” She chuckled. “Everyone on the 5th floor has talked about it,”

“Talk about what?” you asked, clearly confused as to what was going around about you.

“Oh, you know. You and Chani.”

“Oh, that.” You laughed. “We’re just good friends. I mean, I’ve only known him when we started this workshop in this company,”

“I see. You both look kinda close to each other. Some of the staff said you both were dating,”

Your eyes widened when she said this. You shook your head, denying what you heard. “Pfft, no way! We’re just friends, really.”

Soomin chuckled at your response. “Alright, I trust you.”

 *

 YGE Building (Junkyu’s studio)

Junkyu stared blankly at the screen in front of him. He was supposed to be working on the lyrics of one of his own self-written songs, but instead he was letting himself get distracted.

He pulled off the headphones from his head and placed it onto the table.

Pushing his chair to the back, Junkyu leans into the chair and lets out a sigh.

He wasn’t in the mood to write the song at all today. He took out his phone from his pocket and unlocks the home screen.

He checks up on the text he’s sent you and noticed the ‘seen’ sign underneath the message he sent.

He squints his eyes and stared at the screen up close like as if he’s searching for a hidden message in the chat.

Junkyu shakes his head, realising that staring at the screen up close wouldn’t make you reply to him any sooner. But then again, when would you reply then?

He had sent the text to you that Saturday and he was expecting you to at least say something. An emoji? A mad text? A simple ‘no’ would’ve made him feel less guilty.

He sighs heavily and shakes his phone in frustration.

“Hyung?” A familiar voice said from his studio door.

Junkyu stopped shaking the phone in his hand and turns his chair around to see who it was.

Jeongwoo, who was standing at the doorframe of his studio, gave his hyung a strange look. “Are…you okay? Why did you shake your phone like that?”

Junkyu immediately stood up from his swivel chair and tucks his phone into his jacket’s pocket. “N-nothing. I was just…” he blinked a couple times, trying to think of a way to change the subject. “W-what brings you here?”

Jeongwoo pushed the door open wider and enters himself inside the studio fully now, “I’m taking a break from the online task my teacher gave earlier. I wanted to get something to drink from the cafeteria so I wondered if you wanna tag along,”

“Ahh, right. You had to skip school today because it’s your turn to film a T-log with Mashi, right?”

Jeongwoo nods his head.

“Well, I’m hardly progressing with my song anyways. I guess I could use a break,” Junkyu said as he turns around to grab his wallet from his small yellow treasure merch bag.

“Cool! Then maybe we can get some of those mashed crab sandwiches from the store downstairs too!” Jeongwoo said excitedly, making Junkyu shake his head in amusement at him.

 *

 YGE Building (Outside cafeteria)

Both you and Soomin were bringing bags consisting of takeaway-cup drinks in both of your hands and the both of you were somewhat arguing over who should carry less than the other.

“No, unnieeee. Just give me that extra bag! Who’s gonna help me open the door if your hands are full like that??”

“Ugh no way! You should give me your bag! You’re carrying 12 drinks in two hands, that’s ridiculous as it is!” she shot back at you.

You rolled your eyes at her and tried to snatch one of the drink bags from her hand with your fingers but then you ended up losing balance and almost falling down.

“I told you!” Soomin said as you tried to keep your balance in front of her.

“Shut up,” you said to her, your face turning red in embarrassment because of how you almost fell down in front of your leader.

Soomin lets out a small laugh, “You’re quite stubborn, aren’t you? Aigoo, just let me help you,”

“Fine,” you sighed. And just as you were struggling to hand over the bag consisting of 4 drinks to your leader, you heard a familiar voice calling out to you.

“Y/n, is that you?”

You lift your head up to see Jeongwoo and Junkyu heading towards your direction.

“Jeongwoo-aa…” you said in an unsure tone.  You were distracted with the fact that your heart was suddenly beating fast from seeing Junkyu heading to where you were standing.

Soomin looked at you, wondering why you were suddenly acting all flustered after the younger boy had greeted you.

“Unnie, I think we should hurry,” you blurted out nervously.

“Hm? But I think your friend just called out to you?”

“N-no! It’s okay,” you gave her a small smile. “We need to head back before Bomin wonders why we’re taking so long, no?”

“Uhh, sure,”

And just as soon as Jeongwoo and Junkyu had arrived closely to where you were standing, you hurriedly walk past them and told Jeongwoo that you were in a rush so you couldn’t stay to chat with him.

Soomin followed closely behind you, wondering why you were acting all weirdly the moment you saw those two boys.

Jeongwoo turned around as he watches you pass by him and his hyung, your figure slowly disappearing from his sight.

“Huh…I guess she’s busy,”

Junkyu nods slowly at this. He noticed that you were avoiding to look at him earlier.

“She…was avoiding me,” Junkyu said softly, making Jeongwoo turn to look at him now.

“Hyung…”

Junkyu lets out a small chuckle, although he wasn’t smiling. “I guess it’s over now, isn’t it?”

“No hyung, don’t say that! She’s just busy that’s all. You saw how full her hands were, didn’t you? I bet she was in a hurry for a meeting or something,” Jeongwoo added, trying to assure his hyung that everything was indeed okay.

Junkyu sighs and shakes his head. “Come on, let’s head in,” he said as he steps forward towards the cafeteria entrance.

 *

 After bumping into Junkyu and Jeongwoo, you kept walking at a fast pace, forgetting that your leader was still behind you, trying to keep up with your pace.

“Y/n, you might want to slow down. You’re shaking those drinks around too much,” Soomin said, making you slow down as you realised how much the drinks had been shaken and that some have started spilling into the paper bag you were carrying.

“Oh gosh, sorry,” you said as you stopped walking.

Soomin stood beside you and watched as you busied yourself with checking the drinks in your bags.

“Hey, you good, y/n?” she asked.

“Hm, what?” you raised your head to look at her.

“You seem…kind of bothered,”

“What? No, no! I was just—I was just worried if we took too much time being away from the meeting room,” you said, giving her a sorry smile as you lied your way through her.

“Uhuh…” Soomin gave you a thoughtful look for a couple of seconds. “If you say so,” she shrugged in the end, deciding not to ask further since she didn’t want to invade your private life too much.

“Alright then, let’s just head back now.” Soomin added as she starts walking forward again, this time with her being in front of you.

You nod your head and followed behind her.

“Oh and y/n?” Soomin said, her head still staring straight ahead as she walked.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to discuss something with you later. I wanted to ask you this earlier but I almost forgot about it,” she chuckled. “We’ll discuss this when we reach the meeting room, okay?”

“Sure, Soomin-unnie,”

 *

 (The next day/Tuesday)

YGE Building – Main Meeting Room

“You WHAT?” Bomin’s voice boomed loudly throughout the empty meeting room.

“Shh, keep it down, will you?” Soomin said in a softer tone compared to him as she looks around, even though it was clearly just the both of them in the room.

Both Bomin and Soomin regularly meet up with each other at an early time before work begins, hence, them both being the only people in the room whilst waiting for the rest of Bomin’s staff’ and Soomin’s Comms Team members to arrive.

“Soomin, as much as I support you in everything you do—you know I always support your decisions, right?”

Soomin nods at this.

“Okay, good. Now listen to me jagi,” he said as he stands closer to her, “I care about you so much. But deciding this on your own is ridiculous,”

Soomin shakes her head. “First of all, I told you—” she paused as she took a step back to distance herself from him. “I told you that we shouldn’t make it too obvious that we’re together, Bomin.”

“And, what makes you think my decision this time is ridiculous?” she asked.

Bomin presses his fingers against the middle of his forehead, hissing in frustration. He lets out a sigh and looks at his girlfriend that was standing right in front of him right now. He loves her, he really does. And he’s always wanted the best for her, of course.

Bomin had always had feelings for Soomin, since they had been close ever since their high school days. But then he held himself back from confessing to her for couple of years because he believed that a wonderful person like Soomin deserves only the best—in which he proved he managed to achieve after he secured his post as one of the head staffs in the YGE Company.

The collaboration between Soomin’s team and his made him believe that it was fate that brought them to work closely together, and for him to finally confess his feelings towards his very own close friend, which led him to today—dating the beautiful and sophisticated Soomin, and being able to call her as his girlfriend finally.

Soomin, who had only recently began dating Bomin, was happy to accept his feelings, working with him has made her feelings for him resurfaced from when they were in school back then. But she was determined to keep things professional at work. She’s that type of person.

But judging from Bomin’s careless behaviour, she could tell that Bomin isn’t trying to keep things between them as professional as she was.

“Well?” Soomin said, pushing for an answer from him since all he did was just stare at her without saying anything for the past minute.

“Tsk. Soomin. You know why I’m against this specific idea of yours,”

“No, I don’t. All I know is that you’re being a judgemental person,” she replied, implying that she does indeed know why Bomin was against her idea this time.

Bomin looks up at the ceiling, taking in the insult his girlfriend just said to him.

“Bomin, look at me,”

Bomin looks back at Soomin’s face, her eyes wider this time as she waited for his answer to her question.

“Look, babe—I mean, Soomin. You know,” he paused. “Ugh, you know I don’t like how you’re giving her special treatment all the time,”

Soomin scoffs at him, bemused. “I’m not giving her special treatment. I believe she has what it takes to do this,”

“She’s only been in your team for what—a month?? One of the company’s shareholders is going to be here today, and you have the nerve to take this stupid risk?”

“Don’t talk to me with that tone,”

Bomin groaned in frustration, seeing that he had somehow ticked Soomin’s mood off as well. He’s probably in for a bad day.

“Look, I already briefed her yesterday. I even sent her the materials for her to rehearse too. She’ll do fine!” Soomin added.

“You don’t get it! The reason I wanted you to be the one handling the presentation is because I want you to be recognised for your hard work! Now look at you, blowing your chance away!”

“That’s not true. You and I both know that half of the paperwork and data gathered for our presentations were gathered and done by y/n.”

“Even so—”

“Even so, I’m not doing it, Bomin. Y/n deserves to present her hard work for my team, and if you’re going to argue further about this…” Soomin looks at the door behind Bomin. “then I have nothing else to talk about with you.” With that, Soomin grabbed her handbag and headed towards the door, exiting the meeting room.

“Damn,” Bomin muttered to himself as he hurriedly left the room to chase after his girlfriend.

 *

 You arrived at the meeting room to see some of your team members already in their seats, all making small talk with one another. At the front of the meeting room, you saw Soomin with another one of your team members who was always in charge of fixing technical stuff for your team’s meetings so you assume that he’s probably setting up the slides and all that for today’s meeting.

Of course, you didn’t know the drama your team leader had with her boyfriend earlier today that had indirectly involved you.

Soomin was happily setting up the needed materials for your presentation, her face beaming as she was happy that she had won in the argument with her boyfriend too, enabling her to proceed with her plan of having you present for your company’s team today. As soon as she saw you putting your bag under the table of your seat, she gestured you to approach her.

You nod and made your way towards her and as you were doing so, you realised that Bomin was somehow glaring at you. Which made you shudder. What is with him today?

“Y/n, I’m so glad you made it here early. Sam is putting up your slides and notes on the screen for your reference so you can check on them before we start later on, okay?” Soomin said as soon as you were near her.

You nod at her, understanding what she said.

“Oh, and, have you read up on the materials I attached last night? Sorry for the late info, by the way. I didn’t mean to drop everything on you in all of a sudden,”

“It’s alright. I read up on them last night…though I can’t promise that it’ll be perfect today—” you grinned at her.

Soomin rolled her eyes at you and snickered, “Please—you’ll do great. I have a good feeling about today.”

“I don’t,” you joked.

“Please,” she laughed. “Okay, I think you can swipe through the slides now. Thanks Sam,” she said to him as he bowed and left the both of you alone.

You took over Soomin’s spot in front of the monitor and checked on the slides as you pressed the arrow button on the keyboard.

“Oops, incoming,” Soomin said in all of a sudden, making you stop what you were doing.

“Hm? What is it?”

And instead of Soomin answering you, you heard another voice approaching you.

“Y/n! You look so pretty today!” Chani said happily as he popped out of nowhere. He wasn’t in the room when you first arrived and in all of a sudden, he’s standing in between you and Soomin, a silly grin on his face.

Soomin smirked at the both of you and excused herself, “Well, I should get back to my seat. Good luck for today!” she pats your back before leaving.

“Hm? Good luck for what?” Chani asked as he turns to look at you directly now.

“Soomin-unnie is letting me present the final progress report for this workshop,” you replied, a smile on your face.

“Hmm,”

You stopped scrolling through your slides and turned to him. “What? You think I can’t handle today’s big meeting?”

“Well…I’m not even gonna lie, one of our company’s shareholders is gonna be here today…”

You scowled at him and punched his arm, making him laugh at you.

“I’m just kidding! I mean, I’d be nervous but hey, I think you’ll do fine. Just…don’t smile too much,”

“Hm? Why not? The shareholder doesn’t like it when people smile??” you ask him, dumbfounded.

“No, that’s not it,” he laughed. He leaned close to you to whisper, “I just think you look super pretty today and I’m afraid if you smile too much, he might fall for you like I did,”

You punched his arm another time, making him distance himself from you, “Ow, hey!”

“Cut it out, Chani. Go back to your seat,” you grumbled at him.

“Aww are you blushing? You’re shy, aren’t you? You like it when I tell you you’re pretty,” he teased you.

He wasn’t lying though. You could feel your cheeks heating up from him being so close to you like that. Not that it meant anything to you though. You were just surprised by his daringness today.

Chani has always been caring and affectionate towards you, but him flirting?? That’s new.

You shook your head at him and was about to nag at him about him bothering you too much when your eyes fell upon the people in the room. You noticed that most of them were watching you and Chani.

Have they been watching over the both of you the whole time?

“Look at them, I told you they’re dating,”

“Gasp, really? The nerve. Who does she think she is? With Chani??”

“Eh?? They do look good together…”

Suddenly you could hear them all talking about the both of you.

You were so distracted by everyone else that you didn’t realise Chani was busy looking through your notes and talking to you about what he had for breakfast.

You turn to look at him, his head lowered down as he read your notes on the screen. It seems like Chani was oblivious as to what was going on in the room.

How does he do it? How is he not bothered by what other people are saying? Is he really okay with the rumours everyone was spewing about you two?

“…seem fine. I’m sure you’ll do good today, don’t worry too much,” Chani said as he places his hand on your head, patting it.

You were too busy listening to everyone else’s whispers that you had missed out on what Chani was saying.

You pulled his hand away from your head, and smiled awkwardly at him. “Yeah, sure. Thanks. I uh, I’m gonna look through the slides one more time. You should go back to your seat,”

Chani noticed your sudden stiff expression so he decided to just comply and return to his seat.

And just as he sat down in his chair, still feeling puzzled by your sudden switch of mood, he noticed Bomin eyeing him, a smirk on his face.

Chani frowned at him, annoyed that this man is watching over him as always. He looked away and cursed the man under his breath.

 *

 After a good 20 minutes of presenting your company’s findings on the progress of the YG staff your team have mentored and tutored for the past week along with the intended future merges and implications, you swallowed the last bit of air you needed to conclude the presentation and thanked all the people in the room for listening.

“And that is all from us, are there any questions?” you asked, your voice sounding slightly hoarse as you felt it dry up from non-stop talking for the past 20 minutes.

Everyone else in the room shook their heads, to which you felt grateful for since you were sure that the presentation was made clear for everyone to understand fully.

You released a breath of air you didn’t realise you had been holding in when suddenly, the YG shareholder that had attended the meeting today raised his hand.

“Y-yes, sir? You have a question?”

“Hmm…well, frankly I’m not directing this only to you, but to everyone in this room,” he said as he turns to look at everyone in the room.

“This isn’t a question, but just want to say that I think everyone here is satisfied with your team’s plans and efforts as compared to last year. You all simply have improved much,” he continued, a smile on his face.

“Uhh, thank you, sir,” you answered back.

“That was a very insightful presentation too. I liked how your company arranged the new system. I say, a big round for PEWA Groups!” he exclaimed proudly, to which he clapped his hands to, earning everyone else’s applause as well in the room.

You bowed and smiled happily, locking eyes with Soomin who was also grinning as she clapped her hands.

“Thank you so much for the high praise, sir. We couldn’t have done a great job without your great staff here too, so, we’re equally grateful to have such wonderful clients this time around,” you responded to the shareholder.

“Well, if that is all, I believe we can adjourn the meeting?” you asked everyone, excited to end the meeting already.

“Ah, wait. I didn’t quite catch your name. What was it again?” The shareholder asked you.

“Oh, it’s y/n,”

“You did well, y/n,”

“Oh, no, really, I owe it all to my team leader, Soomin-ssi right there,” you pointed towards your surprised team leader.

“Oh gosh, no, no. He was right, you did a great job y/n. You handled the presentation really well,” Soomin complimented you with her bright smile.

You were getting embarrassed so you simply nodded and smiled before shuffling back towards the monitor screen at the front of the room to take down the meeting slides from the screen.

“Alright then, this marks the closing of our workshop with PEWA then?” you heard Bomin’s voice asking the room, to which was responded with loud cheers by everyone.

Mr Ahn, the shareholder, thanked everyone another time and said his goodbye as he hurried out to leave for another one of his own appointments.

You smiled to yourself as you waited for the computer in front of you to shut down. How many days left were you to work here before going back to your own office? A week? A week plus? Oh, right. Your last day here would be next Friday.

When the computer finally shut down, you hurried back to your seat since Bomin was telling everyone to quiet down before he dismisses everyone for their lunch break.

As soon as you sat down, you felt Chani’s hand patting your head and you turned to smile at him briefly before returning your attention back to Bomin who was standing up by now.

“It has been great pleasure to work with you all,” Bomin said as he turns to look at Soomin. The both of them exchanged knowing smiles with one another.

“And of course, again, thank you, y/n, for delivering such a great presentation today!” he looked at you this time. You smiled and nodded at him.

“I mean, sure, I wasn’t expecting it to be this good considering that you’re just a high school graduate,” he added, still smiling at you.

You felt your smile freeze on your face.

Wha…t?

Suddenly, the whole room went quiet.

You licked your lips that was beginning to feel dry by now and your eyes searched the room for your team leader, who had an expression just as shocked as you were.

“Oh? Why is everyone so quiet? Didn’t you all know? Y/n is the only employee in the PEWA’s Comm’s Team who owns just a high school certificate,” Bomin asked, amused with everyone’s reaction.

You felt everyone’s eyes on you.

But how…? The only person who knew about this…was your company’s president—Mr Bae. Then how?

And in a quick second, you heard people’s voices talking all at once.

“What?? So we’re literally being educated by someone who has no skills in this field?”

“Wait, isn’t the Comms Team from PEWA the highest ranked team in their company? What??”

“Yah, are we being conned? We literally let that kid educate us throughout the workshop,”

“Bomin-ssi! How did you let an unqualified person like that have control over our staff??”

You lowered your head, unable to look at the people who have started talking about you.

Chani moved in his seat, unhappy with what was going on in the room.

“O-okay, everyone, quiet down. Meeting is over,” you heard Soomin’s voice say.

Though you could hear no one listening to her. They continued talking to one another, dissatisfaction spewing out of their mouths non-stop.

“Yahh what an embarrassment!”

“Omg and to think she’s been working with us for almost two years. Just how did she get into the company??”

“Soomin-ssi, did you know this? Is that why you favour her over us?? We’ve been working by your side for years and yet you never let us do any of your tasks for you! Yet, you’ve asked her plenty of times!” you heard one of your team members asking Soomin.

Great. Now your own team is turning on you. You grip the sides of your pants, your head feeling heavy from all the loud voices you’re hearing.

“Would everyone, please, just quiet down—” Soomin tried to calm the room but she was interrupted by Bomin’s voice,

“Aigoo. I didn’t know this would bring so much chaos. I’m so sorry, y/n.”

You could hear the smirk from his voice even when you’re not looking at him. This man…just what is he thinking?

The room wasn’t getting any quieter, yet, it seemed like everyone has started asking questions.

“Omo omo, how did you even get the job to be in PEWA?? Did you use a back door??”

“My gosh, imagine if half of the PEWA Group was actually made up of staff that are underqualified,”

“Hey, don’t start spouting nonsense!” you heard Soomin arguing back.

You couldn’t take this. How did this happen? Everything was going so well. How did it all turn so badly in a blink of an eye??

You stood up from your seat, making the loud noise in the room lessen, but then you could still hear some of them whispering to one another.

You lift your head to look at Bomin. “Thank you, for congratulating me on my efforts today.”

“And yes, what Bomin-ssi said was true. But I assure you all, none of the PEWA staff are underqualified.” You swallowed a breath before continuing, “I am the only staff that has…just a high school certificate.”

“Gasp! This is so funny! We literally let someone like her lead the workshop??”

“Tsk, Soomin-ssi, I’m so disappointed in you. I was wondering why a newbie like her was added into our team so suddenly. You must’ve felt sorry for her,”

You felt a pang of hurt in your chest. You didn’t like how Soomin was getting dragged into this. If anything at all, Soomin had been the nicest person to you in your company.

“I…I’m so sorry,” you apologised. You could feel your eyes tearing up. “I’m so sorry,” you bowed at everyone.

“What? No, y/n, no this isn’t your fault,” you heard Soomin say.

You grabbed your bag under the table and backed away from your seat. Your eyes fell upon Chani.

He had a surprised look on his face as well. He shook his head at you, noticing your tight grip on your bag. It seemed like he knew what was on your mind right now.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered before running out of the meeting room.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Chani heard the whole room talking all at once again. He was getting tired of the loud noise.

He got up and marched towards Bomin.

“Yes, intern? Is there something—” Bomin’s word was cut off as he felt Chani’s fist landing against his right cheek, causing him to fall to the floor.

“Get up.” Chani said. “I said, get up!”

Bomin huffed angrily as he got up on his feet. He swung his arm and punched Chani in his stomach.

Chani groaned loudly in pain. “You piece of shi—”

“What? You’re gonna curse? That’s the best you could do??” Bomin taunts him, a smirk on his lips.

Chani grabbed Bomin by his collar and gritted his teeth, “Yah, Bomin! You have really crossed the line this time!”

“Aw? Why? Did you feel bad because you couldn’t stand up for your friend like last time?” Bomin scoffs, “I wonder how she’d react though? Because as I recall, back then, it didn’t work out well with you and your old friend, no?”

“Why you—” Chani was about to punch him again when Soomin stepped in between them to stop them.

“Stop it you two! Everyone is watching!” she whispered loud enough for the both of them to hear.

Chani looked around the room and noticed that what she said was true. Everyone else had stopped talking now and were focused on the little fight going on between him and Bomin.

Chani pushes Bomin roughly aside and glared at him.

Bomin shook his head, his annoying smirk still visible on his face. He fixed his collar as he said, “Tsk. Violence doesn’t always work out, you know,”

“Shut up,”

“Okay that’s it, you both. Enough.” Soomin chimed. “And the rest of yous! Leave the meeting room! Quit staring already!”

Everyone else in the room slowly gathered their stuff, some of them still whispering to each other as they left the room.

All three of them stayed quiet as they watched the rest of the staff leave the room.

And as soon as the last person exited the room, Soomin quickly closed the door and turned back to look at the two men in front of her.

“Have you both no shame?? Fighting like that in front of everyone?? And you, Bomin, why did you have to say that about y/n?!”

Bomin kept quiet, not knowing what to say as he notices how angry his girlfriend was with him.

Chani clicked his tongue. “Pfft. Doesn’t feel nice, does it? Having your girlfriend being mad at you. Maybe you should’ve thought more clearly before creating a mess like this, idiot,”

“Wait—you know?” Soomin asked him.

“What don’t I know?” Chani answered smugly. “Look, I’d love to tell you everything I know about your boyfriend but right now, I can’t stand to be in here.”

Chani approached Bomin again to say, “You may think that you’ve won this again, but I’m telling you, I’m not letting you get away with this. I told you before, not to hurt y/n. You…I’ll deal with you when I get home, hyung.”

With that, Chani shot him a piercing glare before leaving him and Soomin alone in the room.

“…hyung?” Soomin looked at Bomin questioningly.

 *

 YGE Building (Treasure’s Practice Room)

“and 5,6,7,8—bam bam bam dda, dda da da da ddum!” Hyunsuk’s voice chanted as he guided his group’s movements according to his beat count.

“Okay, and then after this part here,” Hyunsuk stepped out of his spot in the formation and demonstrated another move to his friends, “After the right leg out part, step out your left leg further front and then we all turn clockwise before we enter the next formation, got it?”

“Okay hyung,” Jihoon answered.

“Okay let’s all try individually for a while, I’ll count,” Hyunsuk said. “ and 5,6,7,8— bam bam bam dda, dda da da da ddum, okay, right leg, left out, turn! Alright, NICE!” Hyunsuk cheered as he notices everyone’s movements sync with his count even when they’re all practicing on their own.

“Woooo yeah!” Mashiho cheered as well, his charming smile beaming. He wipes the sweat on his forehead with the towel he grabbed from his bag and complimented everyone on their hard work.

“Yayyyy! We’re good to go for the first part of this song! Great job everyone!” Jaehyuk said this time.

Hyunsuk showed a thumbs up at everyone. He walked towards the water dispenser and poured himself a cup of water to drink.

Jihoon approached him and pat his back before getting himself a cup of drink as well. “Great job today, hyung,”

“You too, Hoon-aa, good job.”

“Hyung, will we be leaving for lunch later then?” both the leaders heard Yedam ask, making both of them turn around.

“Yeah, sure. Text the kids too, and tell them that we’ll meet them at the cafeteria later on,” Hyunsuk answered, reminding Yedam to inform the maknaes whom were in school to meet them later when they get to the building.

Jihoon left his hyung’s side to approach Junkyu who was sitting on the floor, chatting with Haruto, Yoshi and Asahi.

“…and then before you proceed to the next level, make sure you collect the diamonds from the hidden bags in the rooms—” Haruto explained to Asahi, his fingers moving as he tapped on his phone.

Junkyu and Asahi nods at his explanation, trying to understand what he was showing them.

“What are you kids watching?” Jihoon asks as soon as he sits down beside Junkyu.

“Haruto’s just explaining how this game he’s been obsessed with works,” Junkyu answered, his eyes still plastered on Haruto’s phone screen.

“Tsk, it seems like a lot of work though,” Asahi said, making Yoshi giggle.

“Yahh hyung! Just—just watch how I do it first. It’s easy!” Haruto insisted as he pushed his screen closer to Asahi.

Junkyu turns to Jihoon who was amused by Haruto’s nagging, “No kidding, hyung. This is the second time he’s explained it to me. It’s still confusing to me,” he complained.

Jihoon nods, “Sure Junkyu. Oh right, what are you having for lunch later?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll see what choices they have on the menu today I guess,” Junkyu shrugs back at him.

Suddenly, they all heard a loud knock on their practice room’s door.

‘knock knock knock’

“Oh? Someone’s knocking on the door?” Hyunsuk asked.

‘KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK’ the knocking was louder this time.

“My gosh, who would knock like that??” Jihoon asked this time. “Who is it??” Jihoon yelled, asking the person outside the door.

The door opened to reveal a flustered-looking Chani.

“Chani?” Yedam asked, surprised.

Chani enters the room, looking around for something—or someone.

His eyes landed on Junkyu.

“Yah, Kim Junkyu. Where is she?”

Junkyu turns around to look behind him. He turns back to the front to look at Chani who was standing not too far from him. “Me?”

Chani rolls his eyes at Junkyu’s confused expression. “Yes, I’m talking to you obviously. Quit playing dumb. I know the both of you are kinda close to each other so just spill it. Where’s she?”

“Where’s who??” Junkyu asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Oh my god. Are you really gonna keep it at this??”

“Hey hey, chill it, Chani. That’s your hyung you’re talking to,” Jihoon reminded him.

“I don’t have time for this, hyung! Y/n! Where’s y/n?!” Chani responds rather impatiently.

Everyone in the room exchanged puzzled looks with one another. Is Chani drunk or something? Obviously they all hadn’t met you today—let alone hang out with you after the small dispute Junkyu had with you.

Chani noticed how clueless everyone looked, making his expression soften. “Wait…no way…none of you’ve seen her?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“Agh, this is crazy!” Chani exclaims as he ruffles his own hair. “I’ve been trying to call her but she hadn’t been answering,”

Hyunsuk approaches the frustrated looking man who was standing in the middle of their practice room. “Why? Did y/n not come to work today?”

Chani lets out an exasperated sigh. “Hyung…you gotta help me find y/n. Bomin-hyung…he did it again…”

Hyunsuk’s eyes widened upon hearing this. “Wh-what?”

“He’s trying to drive y/n away from me, hyung! He said something during our meeting that made y/n ran off and now, now—” Chani swallowed his breath before continuing, “I can’t find her anywhere!”

“What…?” Junkyu’s voice said, earning the attention of everyone in the room.

Junkyu was already standing by now, his concern rising as he heard Chani’s story.

“I thought you’d know where she is, hyung!” Chani exclaimed.

Junkyu shook his head at the younger man. “Whatever. Thanks for telling us what happened, Chani,” He immediately walks away from everyone and heads for the door.

“Wait, Junkyu, where are you going??” Jihoon asked him.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?? I’m gonna go look for y/n!”

 To be continued…

[writingsfromhome]

Winner’s Choice

A/N: I only have series-type ideas in mind, so I’m trying to write out short one-shot type fics instead just to pump the breaks a little. Any ideas are welcome but here’s my go at this: you lost a drinking contest to Harry and winner decides a tattoo for the loser...

--------------

"3...2...1...GO!"

I lift the mug to my face and down the beer, ignoring how it splashes over the new top I had worn today. I should've know going out with Harry & Co meant I was getting messy.

Just a second apart, I slam my mug down.

"That was Harry!" The crowd shouts. "Harry's won!"

"It was tied!" I try to shout, ignoring Harry's smug face as his ego rises with the crowd's voice.

"I say rematch!" I shout.

"Don't be a sore loser, love!" Harry shouts at me. I stick my tongue out and hold my empty mug up, declaring louder I wanted a rematch. My swimming head tries to reason with me that it may not be a good idea but I needed to redeem myself.

Harry and I were good friends, I worked as an actor in the industry he dabbled in. And when he laughed at a stupid joke I made one day a few years ago, I'd latched onto him and we'd just become part of each other's lives since.

I moved across the pond from my childhood town in Maine when I turned 21 for an acting job, and have stayed since flitting from role to role. I missed my family and friends but moving here was also the best thing I did for myself. It did get lonely...which was why meeting Harry was also one of the best things to happen to me. Over the first year of knowing him, his friends became my friends and vice versa. I called them all Harry& Co. especially when I was drunk, all their faces blurred into each other and there were too many of them. Except for Harry. His face always stood out from a crowd. Being around him usually cured the ache I had for home.

"If I go again, you've got to put something on the table." Harry finally agrees. The crowd shouts out inappropriate things I could put down and I flip them off. I catch my friend's eye and she gives me a cautious look but I shake my head. I was having fun tonight.

"Loser gets a tattoo of the winner's choice. Tonight." Harry announces and the group goes crazier. My own mouth drops. I had to win this, knowing Harry he would do something ridiculous like his face on my ass. And this was the first time I lost to Harry, I could do this.

"Deal," I shake on it.

"Wait!" My friend tries to reason with us but we pull our mugs supplied by the crowd, closer to us.

"3...2...1...Go!"

I black out downing it but somehow, Harry's mug clashes down millisecond before mine does. A silence descends the room before Harry laughs. And suddenly everyone is shouting, cheering, throwing out tattoo ideas, and one voice is just shouting long live Harry over and over.

"I...." my mouth doesn't close on it's own, I lost. I rarely lost a drinking contest. But...Harry had me beat.

"Fair and square," Harry maneuvers around the table to sit beside me.

"I lost." I say, dumbstruck.

"It happens to the best of us, eventually." Harry kisses my cheek before jumping up and taking my hand. "Celebration dance."

I let him drag me to the dancefloor, trying to bring my mind back to reality. I was going to get a tattoo. My first. "Harry-Harry!" I try to get his attention. "Nothing ridiculous?"

"No promises," he winks. The alcohol sloshes in my brain as he pulls me into him and moves from side to side.

"Harry!" I shout out.

"You'll see," he grins, enjoying my torture way too much. "Just dance now."

His voice in my ear tickles, and I feel fluttery, far away. Some part of me knows that sober me was going to be pissed at drunk me.

I dance with Harry, following his lead, eventually drifting off to my friends, some strangers, and back to him.

"Should we get that tattoo now?" Harry says in my ear then.

"Maybe..." I try to put on my best convincing voice on. "We should wait for tomorrow."

"Nope!" Harry shouts gleefully. "Let's go now!"

"Nothing's open!" I shout but I was lying and he doesn't believe me for a second. I sigh, and find my friends to say goodbye. They try to tell me I didn't have to follow through but I know Harry would get this done one way or another. I may as well get it done while I was drunk and blame it on that.

The cold outside reminds me I left my coat inside, and when I come back out Harry's jumping up and down to keep warm. It makes me laugh but he quickly tugs on my arm. We run to stay warm towards wherever he decided this was going to happen.

It's a few blocks away, a sterile looking place with crazy colours on the walls that I realise are tattoo designs. The warmth inside the studio makes me shiver and Harry wraps his arm around me as we walk through.

"Harry nothing unprofessional please? I don't want to get fired from a job I don't even have." The cold air had sobered me up a bit and I was starting to regret this even more.

"Don't you trust me?" He asks with a glint to his eye that I didn't trust. "Wait here."

I sit down while he goes to talk to the artist, showing her his phone, pointing to various parts of his body.

"Y/N! Come on!"

I drag my feet over and glare at him as I settle in.

"You'll have to take your shirt off," Harry lets me know.

"You're picking where I get it too?" I ask.

"That's part of the deal!"

"I should've read the fine print," I grumble. Harry shows the artist the side of my rib cage-my shirt was still on but his finger traces a small curve up and down where he wants to place it. It sends butterflies to my stomach.

"Okay," I grab his hand so he could stop doing that. It wasn't helping my nerves. "Let's get this over with. But you can't stay."

"Yes I can," Harry insists. "I make up the rules."

"If I have to take my shirt off, he goes." I look at the girl giving me my tattoo and she shrugs, looking over at Harry. He sighs but agrees.

I take my shirt off and have to hike my bra strap higher, ready to settle into the torture.

"Please tell me it's nothing crude? His face included? Or a stupid message like Y/N hearts Harry?"

The artist laughs, "I'm not allowed to tell you anything apparently but from one girlfriend with a crazy boyfriend to another. It's not. Don't worry, just relax."

I try to tell her Harry wasn't my boyfriend but she turns away and I decide it wasn't worth it. I'd explained that a million times to my own mom who always asked if we'd gotten together yet. It was embarassing, my family back home was convinced we were having a secret affair. I stopped wasting my breath nowadays.

"So, do you get this kind of request often?" I try to make small talk.

"More than you think," the cold of whatever she spreads on my skin makes me shiver. I sort of wish Harry was here, to keep me distracted. I pull my phone out and text him.

"I'm back," his head pops in a few minutes later. The tattoo artist looks to me to make sure I was okay.

"Just talk your usual shit so I don't have to think about what I agreed to," I call out. He sits beside me but he falls silent. When I lift my head to look at him, he's staring at me. "Hey!"

"Sorry, I was thinking about the other tattoos I'm going to beat you into getting."

I roll my eyes, but my skin warms under his gaze. "I'm never agreeing to something like this ever again. You got me while I was weak."

"I'll convince you to get another tattoo again," Harry rolls closer to me. He rests his arms on my leg and leans his head on it.

"My leg's going to fall asleep," I warn him.

"Then we'll put another tattoo there," he smiles.

And back and forth we go, he keeps me distracted, and for the most part, the tattoo process is okay. I'm barely listening as she begins to tell me about its aftercare, she'd already said she would give me a pamphlet and Harry had plenty experience, I could ask him.

"Do you want to see it before I wrap it up?" She asks me. From what I felt, it was at least a few inches long and a bigger tattoo was too scary for me to think about.

"I need something to drink before I look at it," I say. "But I know if I don't like it it's his fault not yours."

"You'll love it," Harry pulls me to him and presses a wet kiss to my cheek. I push him away aggressively and agree to be bandaged. I tell Harry he owed me a few beers before I looked at it and he agrees. He purchases some on our way back to my place along with some food. The train ride home is mostly filled with him gloating but I suffer through it, imaging the worst case scenarios.

Back at my place, I stand in front of the full length mirror in my room, deathly afraid. I had waited nervously, threw back a couple of beers and shoved excessive pizza in my mouth. Harry seems more excited than me for the reveal and finally he joins me upstairs.

"So?" He asks, eyes on me in the mirror.

"Fine." I decide. I peel my shirt off slowly and Harry helps, I try to ignore the way my knees turn into jello at the sight of him doing that. "Fine."

My bra is crooked and I act as casual as possible that Harry is still standing behind me. I slowly peel the bandaging off, Harry comes around to help. I close my eyes as he finishes and count to three in my head. When I see it, my heart stops.

"Do you like it?" Harry asks like a kid on Christmas morning. He's buzzing with nervous excitement but all I can do is stare at the simple tattoo as my heart swells.

A few inches big, covering the side of my ribcage, is a twig of wild blueberries: a symbol of home.

"How did you..." I'm at a loss for words. My first tattoo. I just got my first tattoo, and it was...perfect.

"Well, you're always taking about how you miss home. And you rarely get to go back because of your schedule. And I looked up the official things for Maine, didn't think you wanted a moose so I-"

I shut him up by kissing him; that was the only possible response to this. He'd tricked me into getting the most perfect tattoo and if I was ever unsure before I was sure now that I loved Harry Styles. He knew me. His choice of tattoo made that clear. And I loved him.

"Woah," Harry steadies my shoulders when we part.

"It's perfect," I say, feeling tears well up in my eyes. "I don't know what else to say."

"I should've got you a tattoo a long time ago," he says before kissing me again. I could do this forever, I think, as I bury my hands in his hair.

His hand brushes the open tattoo and I flinch. It didn't hurt, but it was slightly sore.

"Sorry," he apologises against my lips. "We should probably take care of that."

"Ugh, wait." I kiss him one last time. "Where's that info sheet-"

"It's okay, c'mon." He leads me into the bathroom and sits me down on the countertop. I watch as he carefully washes his hands and washes the area. He knows where everything is. His face is scrunched in concetration as he washes and dries it. I marvel at how the evening started with his chaotic public personality to this gentle version here.

"This is gonna be cold," he warns before applying jelly over the whole thing. "Don't sleep on this side."

"I won't. I don't really plan on sleeping at all," I grab his shirt and pull him back up to me. I feel him smile as I kiss him, and he pushes me as far back as I can go before I hit the mirror behind me. I can tell he wanted this as bad as I did, and if it weren't for the tattoo we would be a roughened jumble on my bed right now.

"Bad night for a tattoo," he rests his forehead on mine.

"A tattoo can't stop me," I say. "Let's go." I lead him back to my bed and unclasp my bra. "I probably shouldn't be wearing this anyway."

"Fuck," Harry's mouth hangs open but before I can grow self conscious, he strides over and crashes into me. He doesn't bother with holding back, although he avoids my right side. But it doesn't even matter as I simultaneously forget every sense I have and feel every single nerve in my body at the same time as he takes me to bed.

After, when we lay facing each other on the bed, Harry uses his finger to trace my face. When he reaches my mouth, I kiss his finger. "Thanks. Tonight was...great."

"If you think tonight was great, wait until your tattoo heals." He swipes down my nose.

"I was only talking about the tattoo," I tease. "The rest of the night was...okay."

"Okay?" He immediately perches up.

"Yeah. Like...a 6 out of 10?"

He turns on his back and laughs, "You're in so much trouble. You better watch what you say next!"

"I'm not afraid of you--you had your chance with the tattoo and you chose something lovely."

He turns back to me, pressing a kiss to my lips. "You have to trust me."

"I do...usually." I smile. Harry rests his hand on my hip and zones out, his mind elsewhere. The silence stretched out and I can't help but ask.

"So...tonight isn't like, a one time thing right?" I was going to wait to ask but my nerves needed to be soothed. I also didn't want things between Harry and I to be in a gray area. He meant too much to me.

"No, unless...you want it to be?"

"No!" I nearly shout. "Only the tattoo part. Everything else, I'd like again."

"Okay, good." He slides closer to me under the duvet. "Because I wouldn't mind putting a label on this and-"

"Done." I say, not caring how eager I sounded because the grin that splits his face shows the same eagerness.

I mentally apologise to all the people I scolded who asked when Harry and I would get together. As I nuzzle my head into his chest, and he drapes his arm around me, I just think about how right it feels and why I didn't do it sooner. Tonight was a crazy night of bad decisions but every single outcome was perfect.

"I love you Y/N," Harry says after a while, I thought he'd already fallen asleep. I peek out from my position and his eyes are closed. I wait a moment but they remain closed.

I snuggle back in and suppress the urge to squeal. This night felt too good to be real, like I would wake up tomorrow morning and realise it was all a drunk-hallucination. And on the off chance that might be true, I wrap myself tighter against him and whisper the words back, hoping that he was awake enough to hear them.

When his arms tighten around me, I fall asleep happy, knowing he knows too. Maybe tomorrow morning, I would say it again.

[ssaalexblake]

oh man... Ryan’s the one validating 13′s identity at the peak of her crisis in s12, she’s in a state of utter depressive meltdown to the point she’s momentarily abandoned the absolute die hard grip on the persona she projects and both tells the fam something incredibly personal and truthful with no fights, reluctance or obfuscation and Then takes her temper out on them, something she has been trying to deny she even Has, let alone let loose on Them. 

Ryan validates her, Graham backs him up and takes the message home. Yaz agrees with their sentiments, but the highlight for Yaz in that scene for me is how Immediately and angrily she responds to 13′s kind of disdainful dismissal of Ryan in the scene. He voice is Loud, everybody else keeps even tone in the scene, even Ryan who also pushes back on 13′s behaviour to the point it Really makes Yaz’s noise level stick out to me. 

But the thing is, 13′s identity crisis was only just Starting here. 

And she just lost the two main empathetic voices on her team. Or sympathetic, rather. I’m hesitant to say sympathetic because it implies Yaz isn’t when she Is, but the ones offering comfort in a meaningful way in fotj are Ryan and then Graham on a scale. Yaz agrees more than contributes, which is still genuine, but is not her having to put leg work in. 

This is probably a kind of... Uncommon interpretation of the text here, but i believe it is canon that Yaz is Not a natural at conflict. In It Takes You Away, Ryan tells Yaz she is great with Hanne and Yaz responds by saying she received training on it at work. Yaz in no way claims to be a natural here. Every time Yaz makes a genuine emotional connection with somebody it is somebody who is in a situation she can actively relate and empathize to! When she gets personal to fix somebody’s problems it’s because she understands them through personal experience. 

Yaz immediately forms a connection to Willa in the witchfinders, because, well, they are arguably similar! Yaz is actively relating to her, not putting herself in Willa’s shoes. Yaz has the same phenomenon with Claire in haunting of villa diodati, Yaz approached her to make a comment on the ethics of claire trying to break into Byron’s bedroom and it devolves into ‘yaz relates to Claire’. They form a connection because they are Already similar and relating to each other. 

At times where Yaz doesn’t personally relate Or if she is personally involved, she isn’t great at it and sometimes doesn’t Try (though... Praxeus was so crap with their guest cast i’m not sure if taking Yaz’s disregard of Gabriella’s grief as evidence is on the level. The narrative just didn’t care abt Gabriella). Yaz loudly and forcefully calls out 13 more than once in s12... I feel like this is notable above all here because when Yaz IS calm, she is as vocally supportive as Ryan and Graham in fotj despite 13′s temper... She’s just Very forward and actively confident in her reactions and speaks up confrontationally Before she takes the time to realise 13 is acting this way Because of something, not for the sake of just being a jerk. 

I guess my point is, Yaz’s people skills are that, learned skilled. She’s not a natural empath or naturally good at conflict resolution and especially when she’s emptionally compromised, i Like that because neither of these things are shown as Flaws and it’s refreshing. 

But her and 13 actually.... Rarely see eye to eye. Why? Because they both have the same character flaw in that they don’t open up to anybody. I find these two Very similar, actually, and hilariously it’s led to them, imo, not being that close. On paper, Yaz forms easy emotional connections to those she relates to, so she Should be able to get into that space with 13 imo... Except in this specific case their similarity lays in their lack of transparency. 

 At this point in the narrative, Yaz knows far more about the doctor than the doctor knows about Yaz! I know we drag 13 for being all ‘only level 10 friends can unlock my tragic backstory’ but uhm, Yaz knows more about 13′s than 13 knows about hers and i find it hilarious in a kind of vaguely upsetting way that Yaz is so fed up with 13 for exhibiting the behaviour she Also exhibits. Yaz acts like 13 did in s11; I am hiding behind a front but i am not emotionally strained enough for the cracks to have formed. 

Like, if you asked 13 to Honestly describe Yaz you’d probably get something complementary but vague... She cares about other people, will be the first to jump in to protect them, loudly sticks up for others, is outgoing and confident... And okay, none of that is inaccurate, but if you ignore how Yaz ended up like this you miss why Yaz is the way she is and it’s kind of shallow as a take. 

Which is fun, because i feel like if you asked Yaz to describe the doctor sometime during S11 you’d get almost the exact same description as the one i just listed above for her. 

Which brings me back round to the beginning. Yaz is good at relating to and empathizing with people she actively relates to. But Yaz does not do this with 13 Despite how similar they are Because neither of them are honest enough to Know they’re actually very similar people. So 13 has lost that empathetic voice she’s had from Ryan and Graham, and with their absence during what will be the peak of her identity crisis because neither her nor Yaz will properly open up to each other, 13 will possibly be left without the crutch that was offered to her in fotj by Ryan and Graham (and Yaz, following their lead). 

I just... I don’t see s13 as a happy easy ride for Yaz and 13. When they announced another companion i was Relieved because i was quietly already dreading the tense and uncomfortable atmosphere of Yaz and 13 still not being honest with each other alone in the tardis interfering with my enjoyment of the show (like, that’s a me thing, but having No harmony amongst characters in media is a big no for me... it’s uncomfortable) and while i Genuinely believe the end of this all is them Actually meeting in the middle and submitting to the mortifying ideal of being known, first will come the conflict and drama. 

Yaz and 13 Need to be honest to form that deeper connection. It is canon Yaz loves her, they equated her feelings to Jack’s and Jack is in love with the doctor, but 13 has been vague on this score even if sometimes  she possibly  plays her hand (praxeus... that scene where she leaves Yaz in Hong Kong plays out like the two romantic leads in a thriller and it was more because of 13 than Yaz imo) but... I’d argue 13 doesn’t really know Yaz yet, not as well as Yaz knows 13. 

I see storms on their horizon. I have no idea how the new guy will influence this, though. I just don’t see 13′s identity crisis being soothed by Yaz as some kind of super empath, which i see in fic and fanon a reasonable amount. Yaz is not skilled in this area, she follows other peoples leads unless she viscerally understands and while i do think they Could and Will reach that kind of understanding... They have to be honest first. 

[drakewalkerfantasy]

The Secret of Deception (Tatum x F!MC)

Summary: The Secret is the only way for them to be together. But how long will they be able to keep it until Madam President will find out the truth? And how easily it will be for them not forget about the rules in public? Couple of drinks in and the darkness… will it be possible for them to keep a secret? Or will they fall ones again in the arms of each other?

Words: 2543

Rating: PG

Warning: Some kissing

Authors notes: I really hope you will enjoy this. Please let me know if still want to be tagged and what I can improve. I hope you will like this chapter, it’s quite short and probably mostly not what I expected it to be at first. I hope you still enjoy reading this series.

Sequel for The art of Foreign Affairs

Previous parts of The Secret of Foreign Affairs.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

“Claire, It’s crazy. Your idea is crazy,” huffed Tatum, gritting his teeth, while Claire helped him to put on his shirt. His posture stiffened while he sat on the edge of the bed trying to hide from her any sign of discomfort he felt, sucking in a breath every time he felt her touch or needed to move. It was already 25 minutes after they woke up realising how little time they had till the bodyguards’ rounds, but now, thanks to Tatum’s stubbornness and the fact that he tried to refuse her help with dressing, until he realised he will be not able to complete  the task himself, they had even less time or none at all.

And here is hoping the plan still may work... sighed Claire quietly, finishing the last buttons on Tatum’s shirt and helping him to put on his jacket.

“Tatum, it’s a great plan. It potentially can stir attention away from our scandal, making it seems that Blaine was my mystery lover all along. And even if I do not get caught I will have a chance to speak with him privately before our date tonight and explain everything to him.”

“I still don’t like the idea.”

“Do you trust me?” asked Claire.

“Of course I do, but this has nothing t...”

“Then please, just let me do this. Okay?” interrupted Claire pouting her lips, while sitting on her knees in front of Tatum and holding his hands. His thumbs brushing her knuckles softly, while he looked at her small hands squeezed in his large ones before meeting her gaze.

“Fine, but... with some conditions,” he finally said with a heavy sigh.

“Anything.”

“First, you send Blaine a message warning him that you plan to sneak out to his suite. Second, you ask the guy to wear the pants on and I don’t mean just his underwear. I would prefer him fully dressed, but trousers will do... And last but not least, if you only feel or get the slightest sense something is wrong and you aren’t safe you let me know.”

“Tate...”

“You let me know,” firmly said Tatum in a voice that left no place for disagreement.

“Okay, but he will not do anything to make me feel unsafe.”

“He is from Ardona...” reminded her Tatum, making Claire roll her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter, he will not. Just trust me. Now... I believe he has a suite on your floor? Am I right?”

“Yes... when we found out that The First Son of Ardona is here, we requested for me to be located nearby to keep a close eye on him in case he will pose a threat to you. So yes, he is only a suite away from mine.”

“Good, now give me your phone so I could send him a message.”

“Why do you need my phone, don’t you have yours?”

“If you remember my mother threatened to go through my phone... so give me yours or I’m climbing to his room with or without panties,” said Claire before her eyes widened with realisation of the implication of what she just said. “I didn’t mean it that way,” said Claire quickly feeling how her cheeks started to burn with rising heat.

“I know, but to be sure, your panties as his, obviously, are staying on,” he grunted, bending to gently tug Claire to him. His lips catching hers in a gentle kiss, coaxing her mouth open before flicking his tongue against hers. Feeling how a fire started to ignite between them turning the kiss into wet and messy. His hands gripping her hips, pulling her onto his lap. Cursing and groaning from the pain that instantly coursed through his body, but still not stopping the kiss. Kissing her fiercely, desperately before parting for an air, panting heavily. His arms wrapped firmly around her waist still not letting her go. His forehead pressed to hers while his heart pounded violently.

“Wow... hot,” murmured Claire. Her eyes hooded with desire, feeling him hard and throbbing through the thin material of their clothes. Her breathing, already heavy, elevated even more, when he shifted beneath her, making her feel every inch of his hardness, and she breathed a sigh, while still trying to catch her breath.

“What?” Chuckled Tatum feeling Claire’s hand slip into the pocket of his suit pants to fish out his phone. Her body shifted just slightly making him gasp from the movement before she gently slid from his lap to the bed.

“You... kiss... hot,” she mumbled, unlocking his phone easily and missing an amused look from him. Her fingers flitting over the keyboard on his screen, starting to type quickly under Tatum’s questioning gaze. Clicking send even before he could react to her text to Blaine.

“Done,” said Claire, putting Tatum’s phone back into his pocket. “Happy now?” she asked with her brow raised in question.

“I cannot say that I’m unhappy... considering the fact you are sneaking out to see another man,” he mumbled, but she still could catch a sneak of a small smile forming on his lips.

“Good... Now for the main part, how do I sneak out from you unnoticed?” she asked, getting up from the bed and walking around the room thinking of the way out.

“The only way is through the balcony. It’s still quite early and dark for anyone to see you. Plus if time calculated correctly no one should patrol this area just now so it minimises your chances to be caught sneaking out from my suite,” said Tatum as a matter of fact, nodding to the balcony’s door, following her with his gaze.

“Are you freaking kidding me,” gasped Claire, taking a quick step back from his balcony on a third floor with half meters gaps between them. Missing a satisfied smirk on his face from the way she looked. “Did you forget I don’t actually have military training? The height where we are is like the freaking Everest to fall down from. And have you ever seen the gaps between balconies?”

“I told you I didn’t like the idea so... if you changed your mind then we can find another way how you can sneak out from me, and not to Ardona...,” said Tatum, watching how Claire’s brows furrowed and she stubbornly shook her head. “Fine... if you still insist, then this is really the only way for them not to notice you to sneak to him. Plus, it’s only one balcony between his and mine,” shrugged Tatum, slowly walking to Claire and hugging her from behind, thankful to the darkness that covered them.

“Okay... okay. I can do that, right?” said Claire nervously before looking below hesitantly. 

“Claire, you can do that,” murmured Tatum against her skin, turning her to face him.

“Good... okay. See you later than? Or you will listen to me and sit this one out after all,” said Claire hopefully.

“Claire, I will not sit this one out. I’m your bodyguard and it is my main responsibility to protect you. If anything will happen to you I NEED to be there. It will kill me more than anything to know that I wasn’t able to do anything when you needed me the most.”

“Okay, I need to go.” she said but before she could turn away and climb on the balcony’s rail, she felt Tatum’s strong hands wrapping around her waist and pulling her back. Her eyes widened only for a second before their lips met in a passionate all consuming kiss. Her eyes closing on an instinct, savouring the feel of his lips against hers. His hands gripped her sides firmly and his tongue plunged into her mouth to meet hers, kissing her so hard and fierce, that it took her breath away. Kissing her until he couldn’t stand anymore leaning against the wall with the grunt of pain thus breaking the kiss and breathing heavily.

“What was that for?” Asked Claire, feeling weak in the knees.

“That was for you to think of me every time you will close your eyes,” murmured he before pressing a soft kiss to Claire’s forehead. “Now, when you will step from one balcony to another don’t look down. And for a balance hold to the pipe on my side and on another. Ready?” Asked Tatum after instructions, helping Claire to climb up and carefully move her right leg to the adjacent balcony with a little squeal, trying not to look below. Her hand reached up holding to the sticking pipe, while trying to move her left leg to join her right on the other balcony. Meantime, Tatum’s hand automatically reached for his phone sending a quick text message to another man.

After a moment when he looked up he noticed Blaine sneaking to the adjacent balcony, catching Claire by her waist just in time before she could trip over and draw unwelcome attention. Watching how her body easily leaned into his and how she made him laugh quietly at something that she mumbled under her breath. No doubt cursing the hell out of him for making her climb though the balcony. Carefully he helped her up to the next balcony’s rail, stepping besides her and holding her firmly around the waist. Guiding her to his own balcony before turning to look back. 

Blaine’s eyes met Tatum’s gaze that followed his every move to make sure that Claire got safely to another side, visibly relaxing as soon as she got down from the rail. But his body still stiff and alert ready to rush after them if he even would think that Claire is in a slightest danger around him. Their eyes locked just for a split second but enough for Blaine to notice how pale Tatum looked and how heavily he leaned on the wall behind him, not able to stand straight. The thought that it somehow was to do with his and Claire's impending date flashed in Blaine’s mind, but he dismissed it immediately before following Claire into his suite, closing the door behind. Hoping that whatever happened with her bodyguard he will find out eventually one way or another. Hearing another message arriving as soon as the door got closed. Typing a quick reply after reading it.

“So... what do I own you for such an early unexpected visit and no more no less before our date night?”asked Blaine leaning against the balcony’s door, while Claire walked further into his room, nervously looking around.

“Fake date...,” corrected him Claire, absentmindedly.

“I guessed as much...,” said Blaine before lazily yawning and rubbing a sleep out of his eyes. “And by the way... what’s wrong with your bodyguard? Isn’t it his responsibility to make sure you made it safely here? And even more making sure you are not sneaking out?”

“He... he couldn’t... sprained his hand during his gym session...,” lied Claire, biting at the corner of her lip.

“And what about the early hours visit?”

“What? Are you now a morality patrol? Never pegged you as one,” snapped Claire before looking at Blaine apologetically.

“No... under the normal circumstances. But nothing about this situation sounds normal to me. Suddenly your mum and her PR are all over the idea of you dating me, same as my parents. You obviously aren't thrilled about that and based on the picture in the tabloid we all saw you aren’t even interested...”

“You cannot be sure I’m not,” tried to flirt Claire.

“Oh trust me I can be sure,” laughed Blaine moving to the bed and patting the place next to him for Claire to join him.

“Okay, let's say you're right ... than what gave me away?”

“Apart of your half naked picture with some guy on the first page,” chuckled Blaine, raising his brow, watching Claire nod. “Then I would say... your cryptic message for me to wear my pants and the way you sneaked from yours bodyguard’s suite into mine, while he was looking at me as if he was ready to snap my neck,” said Blaine as if nothing important.

“He... he doesn’t... I just...”

“Claire, I know how it looked like, and what it was. But even I could see that the guy is hurt so I doubt it was really what it looked like,” smirked Blaine. 

“I...,” mumbled Claire, blushing furiously.

“You don’t need to explain anything,” he stopped her. “But I don’t think that what you came here to do... risking another scandal...”

“You right...”

“I also think my assumption will be right that partially you want to do that, cause another scandal making everyone believe it was me, and partially you want to discuss our fake date.”

“Blaine...”

“What? You said it yourself,” shrugged Blaine before looking at Claire.

“Blaine, I’m sorry...”

“For what?”

“For kissing you while having feelings for another... not being honest? For leading you on... for wanting to protect another by using you. Your pick really.”

“I’ll be fine. And I want to help you to make this date look real... I bet we will not be able to escape paparazzi... so my question is. Will we kiss for them or...?” asked Blaine, his eyes focused on Claire’s, noticing how they darkened just for a split second before becoming chocolate warm and her cheeks tinted with the slightest pinkish colour. “I assume your boyfriend isn’t thrilled by the idea of you and me kissing,” smirked Blaine.

“No... he isn’t... not really...,” quietly said Claire remembering the hurt that flashed in Tatum’s eyes, feeling warmer under Blaine’s gaze.

“Good, we can settle on the hug?”

“No!!!!” Exclaimed Claire too quickly... so quickly that some may take it for eagerness, but not Blaine.

“What? Is he against hugging too? I knew he was jealous, but like that? What do you even see in him?”

“I meant we are going for a kiss.”

“What?! Are you sure? Will it not cause a rift between you two?”

“Yes... but if I want everyone to believe us... even probably think that you are my mystery lover we need to do that right...,” said Claire before looking at Blaine. “Now you know why I agreed on that... but why did you agree on that? Especially since you know I have someone... What is in it for you?” she asked.

“Nothing... except, I’ll be honest. I like you and for the short amount of time that I got to know you, I started to really really like you and care for you. So no matter how unlike me it seems I’m not selfish and I want you to be happy. Oh, and don’t you look all surprised to hear that,” chuckled Blaine, watching how Claire’s eyes widened meeting his. “So what’s the plan? I have my ideas, but something tells me that sex scandal may get me in a huge troubles with your boyfriend... Not that I’m afraid, but I would prefer not to test him,” he smirked, raising a brow. “So how do Rutherlandians cause a scandal except that amateur version we already saw?” asked Blaine, locking his mischievous gaze with Claire.

“Actually that was exactly what I was thinking off,” muttered Claire, watching how Blaine’s confident smirk slipped from his face and was replaced by nervousness.

Tagging: @choices-bound​​​​​ @jamespotterthefirst​​​​​ @mercury84choices​​​​​ @k2624​​​​​ @thefrenchiemama​​ @choicesreal​​​​​ @starrystarrytrouble​​​​​ @boneandfur​​​​​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​​​​​ @sophxwithers​​​​​ @ramseysrookiex​​ @suitfer​

[procrastinatorimagines]

I Want Us Part 8

Fandom: Chicago PD / SVU

Series: I Want Us

Part 1 //  Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 (Final)

Pairing/s: Sonny Carisi x Intelligence!Reader

Warning/s: tw rape, murder, assault

Word Count: 1,269

Summary: The Intelligence Unit’s last case with Manhattan SVU had them flying out to New York to track down an abducted boy, and had Dectective Y/L/N and Detective Carisi growing close in the process. Now, a string of rape-murders in Chicago has SVU boarding the next flight out, believing the suspect to be the same man responsible for a set of identical crimes 10 years prior. As the case unfolds, Y/N and Carisi are brought back together, reigniting the spark between them.

Tags: @the-baby-bookworm​ // @inlovewith3​ //

The call came while you were still driving to the address you’d been given on Tate, now your prime suspect - Billy’s alibi for the first murder checked out easily, he was at a track meet with over a dozen witnesses, and there wasn’t exactly any point in checking his alibi for the New York murders, he’d been 7. 

Almost as soon as that call ended, you got a text on your phone. “You mind?” You nodded to your phone, giving Carisi permission to check it as you drove.

“It’s Jay, he says neither families have seen Billy or Tate before,” he relayed, “but that doesn’t mean Tate isn’t our guy, it’d make sense with what we’ve heard so far.”

“Still,” you sighed, turning Tate’s road, his apartment building just up a head, “we’re going to need something more to go on if we’re even going to get into his place, let alone arrest and charge him.”

Carisi couldn’t agree more as you both climbed out the car, making your way towards the building with your badges on hand. They’d get you through the main doors no problem, but getting further...

“Do you have a warrant?” What had you expected, honestly? Standing before the landlord in the main lobby you were greeting with the question you’d seen coming a mile away. 

“Is he here?” Carisi asked anyway, hoping you’d at least find out something useful, even if this turned out to mostly be wasted trip.

“Nah, he hasn’t been back here since yesterday, I’ve got some mail waiting that I need him to take off of my hands,” the landlord explained, sounding bored and impatient with the conversation already. He’d given you something, at least; Tate hadn’t gone home after he’d given his statement to you, he must have somewhere else to lay low - but where?

“You ever seen either of these women before?” Carisi tried, holding up photos of the two Chicago victims on his phone. The landlord shrugged and shook his head.

“Okay, thanks for your time,” you told him, pulling your card out of your pocket, “but if he does come back, at least give us a call?” He grunted in what you couldn’t tell was agreement or not, but he took the card and walked away, which presumably meant you could both see yourselves out.

You grumbled in frustration as soon as you were outside, knowing you’d been this close to your killer and let him slip away, and now you didn’t know where he was. “We’ll post some unis outside in an unmarked car,” Carisi told you, already making the call as you wandered once again back to your car, fresh out of leads to follow.

“Let’s call Benson, see where Tate lived the time of the New York murders, maybe it’ll be enough for a judge to issue a warrant,” you said, casting a glance back at the apartment building. 

“Food?” Carisi suggested once you got to the car. It had been a while, you realised, all this running around you’d been doing hadn’t really left any time for breaks - food was definitely not a bad idea.

“I could eat,” you replied with a smile, dialing Benson’s number as you got back behind the wheel.

“Tell me you have more than we do,” she answered by way of greeting, sounding as frustrated by this case as you. 

You explained the situation as concisely as possible. “Do you think you could find out his old address?”

“Yeah, should only take a moment, stay on the line?” You hummed in agreement and put it on speaker as you heard her place her phone down and begin to type on her keyboard. 

“New York,” Benson confirmed after a moment, “want to try for a warrant?”

“That’s circumstantial at best, I can’t see a judge signing off on that,” Carisi noted, not being happy about saying it though. He was right, but neither of you liked it.

You clicked your tongue, hesitating before saying: “I could ask Voight to maybe-”

“No,” Benson cut in quickly, “we do this by the book, if this is our guy, which I think it is, I don’t want to do anything to jeopardise putting him away for good, understood?”

“Loud and clear Captain,” you promised genuinely.

“Good, Kat and I will look into Tate’s history in New York, maybe we’ll find something we missed now that we know who we’re looking for, we’ll keep you posted,” she informed you both.

“Thanks Cap, we’ll be in touch,” Carisi signed off and you leaned your head back on the seat’s headrest, eyes closed. You only opened them again when you felt Carisi’s hand on your leg.

“Come on, let’s go eat, re-energise and re-focus,” he said, somehow always managing to make you feel instantly better. You nodded and turned on the ignition, knowing exactly where you could grab a quick bite nearby.

You were half way through your sandwich, feeling a bit more self-conscious than usually about how you were eating in the presence of a guy you liked - not that he’d care - when you got yet another phonecall. 

“Hey Kev,” you said, pressing answer with your little finger and hurriedly swallowing what was in your mouth. 

“Hey, Voight asked us to go back through the CCTV from Lily Hamilton’s murder, we’d been looking for the bentley the first time around, but this time we were looking for Tate’s car, just incase.”

“And?” You asked, alert, putting your sandwich down and brushing your hands together as you shared a hopeful look with Carisi.

“We got it,” Kev answered. Was this is? The breakthrough you needed? "Now, the main street cams don’t catch enough, but Vanessa found a private security system set up nearby the cite where her body was discovered. I’ll send you the screen grabs, you tell me how guilty you think this looks.”

Two pings on your phone came a second later, images of a man emerging from Tate’s car carrying a very large bag - definitely large enough for a body. “We got him,” you said triumphantly.

“It gets better,” another voice joined the call from the other end, Hailey’s. “We did some digging into that date the second vic’s sister mentioned and get this, both girls had dates, I’m sending you both the dating profiles and messages we found now-”

Carisi got them up on his phone, showing you briefly and nodding.

“-and it’s pretty damning. They look like different guys at first, but the script is the same, prince charming, true love, you get the picture when you read the messages, anyway, it looks like both girls went to meet up with their mysterious date the nights they went missing.”

“Can we track the IP, see where the messages came from?” You asked, already turning on the ignition yet again, ready to catch this guy once and for all.

“They came from the same location,” she confirmed.

“Tate’s apartment?” Carisi asked hopefully.

“No, a storage facility basically between both the current crime scenes,” she explained, “it’s not under Tate’s name but we called the owner, the man who rents the facitily matches the description, right down to the scar.” 

Another ping on your phones had Carisi showing you the address of the storage facility. “I assume that’s enough for warrants now?” You asked.

“You’ll have everything you need by the time you arrive,” you heard Voight confirm from somewhere else in the room, “I want you and Carisi at the storage facility, Burgess, Dawson and Ruzek will meet you there with Benson and Tamin, the rest of us will head to the apartment.”

“Let’s finish this,” Carisi told you after Voight hung up. You certainly didn’t need to be told twice.

[illfoandillfie]

5 Simple Rules For A Successful Fake Relationship: Ben’s POV

5 SIMPLE RULES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Summery: 14 scenes told from Ben's Perspective.

Warnings: A whole lotta angst and badly handled feelings. swearing, drinking, a little bit of smut/masturbation (18+) basically everything from the other chapters but from Ben’s side lmao

Words: 22 790 (oh god im sorry, but all the sections are separated so you don’t have to read it in one hit!)

A/N: I know it's like super duper late but here is the final chapter of this series that I promised! Basically just a collection of blurbs (maybe a few oneshot length parts too) that tell the story from the other side. Some are his point of view of things that occurred in the main chapters, some fill in gaps that reader wasn't around for. 

I had a lot of fun writing from a perspective I don't normally write from! It was a bit of a challenge at times but definitely something I'd like to do again.

Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies

@coni-martina @hardforbenhardy @cubedtriangle @vicouscirce @arianabrashierstuff @pattieboydwannabe @maggieroseevans @theprettyandthereckless @friccinfricks​ 

“Pick up Joe, pick up,” Ben mumbled to himself, pacing around his trailer. The phone rang out and he let out a grunt of annoyance as he switched to text message.

I fucked up. Call me.

It was an anxious ten-minute wait in which Ben found it hard to sit still or focus on anything other than what a colossal mistake he’d made. He tried to go over his lines instead, tried to focus on the next scene you’d be filming together but all he could think about was you. You and how badly he’d fucked up. Finally Joe put him out of his misery. “Thank Christ,” “Sorry I was asleep,” a yawning Joe said from the other end of the line, “What happened that you needed to contact me at 6am?” “I said yes,” “To?” “Joe, I know it’s early for you but please try to keep up. I said yes.” There was a pause as Joe tried to work out what Ben meant and then realisation dawned, “Nooooo,” “Yes. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. Oh my god,” Joe groaned, sympathetic, “You said yes? To the fake dating schtick?” “I wasn’t going to,” “I should fucking hope not. After everything we talked about yesterday? After we agreed it was a horrible idea?” “I know! I know,” Ben had to pause to gulp in a breath, his chest suddenly feeling too tight to handle the oxygen, “I was going to say no. I came in with a plan to say no and it was on the tip of my tongue for the entire meeting. They were going through these pages explaining it all and all of the rules we’d have to follow and I was ready to say no, I was going to say no,” “So what happened?” Ben flopped down onto his couch, the one he liked to nap on when time allowed, running his hand through his hair as he spoke, “I looked over at her and my mind clouded over and I said yes,” “Did she ask you to?” “Nope. I think she knew what I was thinking through the whole thing, she seemed shocked when I agreed to it. Fuck, why did I say yes?” “Cause you’re a fucking idiot.” “You can say that again,” “I could but I won’t.” Joe exhaled slowly into the receiver, “Jesus man,” “Yup. You wanna know the worst part though?” “Agreeing to it wasn’t the worst part?” “I’m not totally disappointed,” “Ben,” Joe sounded mildly horrified so Ben hurried to explain. “I mean, I know it’s bad. I know there were a thousand ways to better handle it...sticking to the plan and asking her out after we wrapped being the least of them. But...I have date ideas picked out already. There’s this wine and art place she’d love and the ice-skating rink and I’d love to take her to that Chinese restaurant near me. And I’m kind of happy I have an excuse to look at her now, touch her. I don’t have to worry about if she’s caught me staring or if I’m doing a bad job of hiding my feelings because everyone’s going to think we’re dating anyway so what’s the fucking harm,” “Alright Ben, I’m gonna stop you there. You need to get this shit under control. I suggest going to a bar, getting drunk, and getting into the pants of the first girl who talks to you.” “Can’t,” “Oh don’t give me that bullshit. You’re not so hung up on this Y/N chick that you can’t think about sleeping with someone else, are you?” “Doesn’t matter, I literally can’t unless I want everyone to think I’m cheating on her. Don’t think that’d go down well with the studio or anyone else really. They’d crucify me for fucking up the plan after less than a day.” “Would you have followed my advice even if that wasn’t the case?” Ben mad a non-committal noise, “Probably not. I just want her,” “Doesn’t she have a boyfriend? I distinctly remember you whining about a boyfriend.” “Apparently it was never that serious. He was boring.” “You’re boring too Ben. Hate to break it to you but you’re dull, unexciting, tedious. She’s not going to want to date you either. Might as well give up now,” “Have you got a thesaurus sitting in your lap?” Joe laughed despite himself, “I thought this was going to be a crush Ben. Short lived.” “Me too. It’s not though. I can’t get her out of my mind. When I’m with her I don’t want to leave and then when I have to leave all I can think about is when I’ll next see her. She’s so wonderful and beautiful and kind-hearted. She likes pulling faces at me from behind the camera and she’s got the cutest laugh…When she’s nervous about a scene she bounces her leg. Every time. And she’s so sweet to everyone on set, always chatting with whoever is around and making jokes and stuff. I want to make her laugh. I want to calm her when she’s nervous. I want her.” “Maybe you should just tell her how you feel now. I know you wanted to wait until after the movie but I think that horse has bolted,” “I can’t tell her now, are you insane? If I tell her now she’ll call up her agent and cancel the whole fake dating thing and she’ll never want to see me again,” “Maybe she wants to date you too,” “Nope. She literally said to me she wouldn’t date me in real life,” Ben paused, thinking, “d’you reckon there’s a chance she might fall for me too? Like, with the whole pretending to date thing? Maybe I could convince her I’d be a good boyfriend,” “Don’t get your hopes up Ben,” “You’re right. She’s not going to change her mind about me. We’re friends and that’s it. And I’ve just gotta focus on finishing this movie and getting through the whole relationship without her figuring anything out.” “I don’t envy you, buddy.”

                                                       ***

It took Ben a few moments of lying in the dark to remember why he felt so nervous first thing in the morning. But the waiting message from Peter about what time the photographer would arrive was enough to remind him. He lay there a little longer, trying to prepare himself for everything, trying to convince himself that seeing you first thing in the morning would be enough of a turn off to stop him from feeling the way you made him feel. It didn’t work, the convincing or the seeing you. If anything, seeing you yawning as you left his spare room just made it all the worse. You, in his pyjamas. It made his stomach flip. He found it hard to pull his eyes from you as you drank your coffee, found it hard to not enjoy the sight of you in his pyjamas in his kitchen. You’d never been there before but you didn’t feel out of place. He could imagine other mornings, making pancakes together, you with a spot of batter on your nose that he’d wipe away and replace with a kiss, or else making you the first tea or coffee of the day and bringing it to you in bed, snuggling under the covers with you, your head resting on his chest as you talked quietly about whatever was happening that day. But planning out how you’d look for the camera was a sharp reminder that it wasn’t real, that you were only there because of work.

“And, um, he was very careful in how he worded it, but they want us to look like we fucked. Also I told them I’d take you home so there may be someone waiting for us there too, he never got back to me on it.” “Shit, okay. Umm, guess I’ll just wear this then?” he watched as you indicated the pyjamas you’d borrowed, his pyjamas, “might lose the pants though, help sell it a bit more.” “Yeah, guess so,” Ben had to clear his throat and avert his eyes, terrified that you’d be able to see what he was thinking, willing himself to stop thinking about helping you out of them. “What time is it?” He glanced at the oven, thankful to have even the smallest of diversions, “Twenty past eight,” “God I haven’t been up this early on a weekend in months.” “Not one for farmers markets or anything then?” This was a better topic. Boring, safe. “Not really. Much prefer lying in bed doing nothing.” Shit, “Me too,” he laughed, trying not to imagine you in his bed in just his shirt (fuck the pants they were too big for you anyway). “We’re meant for each other,” Ben took another sip of coffee to keep from groaning. You had no idea what you were doing to him and he wasn’t going to be the one to tell you. Not now at any rate. He’d killed any chance of anything happening when he’d agreed to this stunt and now he had to suck it up and deal with it. “Did you want to have a shower or anything?” “Nah, you can if you want though,” “Might as well wait until I get home. But I am gonna clean my teeth, especially if we have to kiss.” Jesus, the kiss, he’d almost forgotten about that, “Maybe mess up your hair too, make it look like you didn’t sleep much.” This is dangerous territory. “Well how could I when you’re such a good lover,” Oh god oh god oh god, “I know you’re joking but if anyone asks, I’m incredible. You came like three times,” “Did I now?” “Of course,” “Good thing no one’s gonna ask then, don’t think I’m great at lying,” Ben wanted to stop, wanted to switch back to talking about farmers markets and breakfast options but he didn’t seem to have control over himself anymore, “Besides, it’s not really a lie, I am that good. You just haven’t experienced it personally.” You poked your tongue out at him as you turned back towards the bathroom. As soon as he heard the door shut Ben collapsed forward against the kitchen counter, leaning on his palms as he grappled with what had just happened. He’d need to keep his wits about him from now on. Flirting like that couldn’t happen again, he’d been lucky that you'd treated it like friendly banter. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the voice that suggested you’re lack of awareness was proof of how disinterested you were. It was only when he heard the bathroom door swing open again that he forced himself to move.

“How do I look?” you asked as you re-entered the room. Can’t avoid looking at her now, she wants your opinion, “Gorgeous.” It was true. Everything you’d done to make yourself look like you’d had a late night just made you even more desirable. The messed up hair, the smudge of makeup around your eyes. He gulped when he noticed the undone buttons of the flannel shirt, just enough to tease, and the missing pants. Tell her you want to pin her to the wall and undo the rest of those buttons. Tell her you want to wake up to that sight every morning. “But do I look like I’ve been thoroughly fucked?” “Oh, right, ummm,” he gave you another cursory look, trying not to linger on any part of you for too long, “yes, I think so,” “I feel like there’s something missing,” suddenly you turned on your heel and stepped back towards the bathroom. Ben waited where you’d left him until, “Oh! I know. Might be taking it a bit far though.” Clearly he was supposed to be part of this conversation, so he followed you to the doorway, stepped just over the threshold, “What is it?” You were scrutinising your appearance in the mirror and he let himself watch your reflection, “what if you gave me a hickey?” Ben’s breath caught in his throat though he managed to stutter out your name. “Yeah, I know, that’s a weird thing to ask. Don’t worry, I think we’ll be fine without it,” He inhaled deeply wondering if your backtracking was a sign that you’d worked out what was going on in his head. He couldn’t let that happen. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to give you a love bite, though he’d prefer to be covering you in them. Slowly, he let the breath go again, “no, you’re right. A hickey will definitely make it look more authentic,”

“It’s not totally inappropriate for me to ask?” Babe this whole thing is inappropriate, “No, no, we have to make it look legit. Here, I’ll uhhh,” With another, less than steady, breath, he stepped behind you, close enough that you were practically leaning against him. His heart began to beat faster, his stomach did summersaults. Carefully he wrapped his arm around your waist to steady himself, pull you closer, as he pushed your hair to the side. He glanced at your reflection, waiting for you to stop him, to notice his shaky fingers and burning skin and to jump away from him. But you didn’t. You let him lean in, let him press his lips to your neck, let him mark you. He felt your own breath speed up, felt you tilt your head, inviting more. And then. It was only a small hum, but it had definitely come from you. He glanced at the mirror again, saw you had your eyes shut. You liked it. He was giving you a hickey and you were enjoying it. This might be his only chance to do that, to make you feel that way. He refocused on your neck, where his lips met your skin, soothing the fresh brand with his tongue. He could happily have given you ten more, was tempted to go in for a second at least. Instead he let you go, stepped backwards as quickly as he could manage. If he waited too long he’d end up saying something he’d regret. “Will that do?” “It’s great Ben really ties the whole look together,” He tried to match your smile though it felt like there was a warning siren going off in his head, “Good. Good. Okay then, I’ll umm, what time is it?” “Just after nine. Wonder if the photographer is here yet,” “I think I will jump in for that shower actually, by the time I’m done he will definitely be here,” he needed some time to compose himself before he even thought about stepping outside the door with you, “Make yourself comfortable though, watch some TV or something.” “Alright. Thanks for being so cool about all this. I know you’re a little sceptical about the benefits and everything.” “It’s fine Y/N, no need for any of that,” he forced another smile as you left but the moment you’d pulled the door shut it slipped again. Slowly he made his way to the tap, splashed his face with cold water. His fingers still tingled where they’d rested against you. The echo of your hum was stuck in his head. Your perfume still lingered in the air. “Fuck,” Ben directed the curse at his reflection, unsure any other word could sum up better than that. The fact that you didn’t want him was fucked, having you here looking the part of the perfect girlfriend was fucked, giving you a hickey for the performance was fucked. And the fact that he was sporting a semi from it was really just the cherry on top of his totally fucked sundae. He couldn’t go back out to you in such a state, especially not when you were going to have to make out for the camera. A shower to relieve himself was the only answer, though he felt bad about you being only a couple of rooms over.

With a final prayer that you wouldn’t overhear or work out why he’d changed his mind about the shower, he turned the taps on and began undressing, wincing a little as he stuck his arm under the scalding hot water. With some adjustment he was able to fully step into the shower, pausing for a moment to relax under the steady beat of the water before reaching for the soap. Of course, you were on his mind as he wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly started stroking himself. The way you looked in his shirt, the swell of your breasts just barely exposed, tantalisingly so. The hem of the shirt draped over your bare thighs. You’d make such a sight dressed like that, lying in his bed, the sheets tangled around your legs. Better still his legs tangled between yours. He thought of the hum you made as he’d sucked at your throat. On the verge of a whine, maybe even a moan. Would you whine if his lips were on your chest instead? What about your thighs, leaving a trail up to… His breathing was faster now, hand moving at a similar speed. We’re made for each other. Your voice, your words. You’d say it, half pant it, while he was inside you. Made for each other. And you’d hum that hum of pleasure. Your thighs, under his shirt. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close as he pulled your hair aside. What if you gave me a hickey?  The warmth of your body leaning against his, such a contrast to the cool bathroom tiles. That hum. Those thighs. The way you say his name. Made for each other. Your lingering perfume. Your lingering warmth. Your lingering hum. His name on your tongue. He bit his lip to keep from making any sound as he came onto the floor of the shower. It took Ben a few moments to right his breathing, eyes pressed shut so he could hold onto the fantasy for just a little longer. But he knew he didn’t have the time. At least you get to kiss her again. He rushed through washing his hair, scrubbing himself clean. As he stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and swiped his palm over the fogged-up mirror. He forced himself to smile, tried to make it seem natural but that just made it feel more fake. Maybe you wouldn’t notice. With a final exhale he left the bathroom, heading towards his bedroom to find some clean clothes. Your laugh cut through the mostly quiet house. Something on the tv, a cartoon by the sounds of it, had made you laugh and Ben couldn’t help but smile for real at the sound. It made it all seem worth it. 

                                                      ***

It had been a bit of an odd week. Everyone at work knew about the relationship and Ben had found himself set upon by well meaning set dressers and ADs who were curious to know when it had started and how they’d kept it such a secret because “seriously Ben, no one suspected anything.” That was nothing to his friends though, who were shocked he’d never brought it up even in passing and who demanded to know when they could meet this secret girlfriend of his. “Someone’s gotta tell her about the time you pissed your pants at the fair,” “I was seven and had drunk a lot of coke,” “Excuses, excuses. What’s your excuse for never mentioning her before?” “I thought we were going to play FIFA, not talk about my love life,” “We were but that was before we all saw your girlfriend’s arse online,” “You can’t see her arse in that shot,” “Near enough. And we can definitely see the giant fucking hickey on her neck. Now explain yourself,” “Alright mum,” Ben shook his head, “I mean, you know I don’t normally date people I work with. Neither does she. We both wanted to give our selves some time to see if it worked, to make sure what we thought we were feeling was legit and not on screen emotions carrying over or anything like that.” “Well it looks legit judging by photos,” “Shut up,” Ben sighed, rolling his eyes, “I actually really like her,” “Hey, I have a question. When the fuck have you been seeing this chick? Because your down time is spent with us.” “Oh, umm, y’know, after work and stuff. I don’t spend all of my time with you guys,” “Uhhh beg to disagree,” Ben tried to keep his tone normal though his heart was racing. If they figured it out now it could all be over, “Fuck off I have a life outside of you. And just because I was hanging with you guys in the evening doesn’t mean I didn’t see her earlier in the day.” “Nooners?” “Lunch dates.” “Uh huh. Okay, lunch dates. She’s a good shag though, right?” “Oh yeah, fucking….great shag,” “You gotta give us more than that mate,” “Sure, okay, but first can one of you kill me,” “Boooooo,” Ben laughed as he was pelted with crisps, “I’m so going to kick all your arses, now hand me a controller.”

The week had also brought him a copy of your rules. He’d taped the sheet to the bottom of his sock draw where no one else was likely to see it but he could still have a daily reminder that none of it was real. Being around you made it easy to forget you weren’t actually his girlfriend, the lines between friendly banter and flirty teasing becoming too blurred. Of course, he also had Joe reminding him to keep his head straight. He’d called after he saw the morning-after photos. The conversation had started with Joe calling Ben a moron but quickly shifted into Ben ranting for close to an hour because he’d, that morning, heard all about the conversation with Felicity and how you’d spent so long talking up his prowess. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream. “Is this some kind of punishment? Did I do something completely fucked up in a past life and now I’m paying for it?” “Maybe. Or maybe it’s a lesson on why you don’t agree to something because a pretty girl smiles at you.” “Oh bugger off, you’re absolutely no help,” “Well what do you want me to do?” “I don’t know.” “I could talk to her for you.” “Mate, that’s you’re worst idea yet.” “When’s the date?” “This Saturday.” “Just keep reminding yourself you’re there as friends. Don’t get sucked in by the act.” “I’m trying.” Easier said than done, especially when he’d had the date planned for a solid few months. Not officially of course, but in the back of his head. You and him and a bottle of wine as you sat close together and painted. When he imagined the date you wore a sun dress and decorated your canvas or plate, or whatever it was he pictured that time, with little hearts and lipstick kisses. He’d make you laugh with some kind of joke and you’d lean your forehead on his shoulder. Everyone else would melt away as you looked up at him, still smiling. And you’d say something about how you should have realised you loved him sooner. “Because I do, Ben, I love you,” Which is when he’d kiss you, softly.

Ben shook his head to clear it, focusing back on the script in his hand, though you’d soon distracted him again. The real you, not the fantasy date one. The one who was bouncing her knee and staring off into space. He gently touched your shoulder, “Hey, are you okay?” “Huh?” “You’re jiggling your leg a lot which you only do when something’s worrying you, what is it?” “Oh, nothing,” He didn’t believe you, “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?” What a blessing that would be. I might actually be able to get over you. I could stop imaging you in my bed, “I’d get a decent night sleep not thinking about us,” “What?” Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud, “I’ve been worried about it too.” You nodded, your leg twitching as if gearing up to bounce again. “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, but-” “No buts. It’ll be a piece of cake,” Ben didn’t necessarily believe it himself, or at least not for himself. He was going to struggle. But you didn’t have any underlying feelings to fight. For you it really was just a good time painting, “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,” before he could stop himself he’d reached for your hand, rubbing the back of it. He wanted to do more, to hold you tight and tell you it would be okay. But that would be too much. Instead he rubbed your hand and tried to distract you, “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 laughed. It was the best sound in the world and he was determined to make sure he heard it again on your date.

It took Ben an hour to decide on an outfit. He’d had one set aside but looking at it in the mirror it felt too dressy, he needed something more casual. He paused for a calming smoke and then had to brush his teeth again. On set he chewed gum after a smoke, especially if there were kissing scenes, out of politeness more than anything. But the small part of him that hoped you were treating the date as an audition for the roll of real-life boyfriend worried that it would hurt his chances if he tasted like cigarettes. Assuming you’d kiss. So he brushed his teeth again and changed into an outfit he didn’t hate and then worried that he was overthinking it and should have gone with his first outfit, and needed another smoke. Which meant he had to brush his teeth a third time. It took all his willpower to not ask the uber to pull over so he could have another quick puff. But then he was at your place and you were there and he wasn’t panicking anymore. Maybe it was because you looked jittery and nervous and something in his brain overrode his own anxiety to ease yours, or maybe you just had that effect on him. Whatever the reason it meant he could focus on helping you relax. “D’you wanna grab something to eat?” He was nearly positive you hadn’t eaten yet, too anxious. “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?” Ben inwardly groaned. When the fuck did snookum become a thing? Why won’t you stop me Y/N? Please god stop me from flirting with you!  It was a relief when he made it to the McDonalds without any more slip ups and he could focus on his food and encouraging you to eat yours. He felt things were going well as you walked hand in hand through the bottle shop. He’d squeeze your hand if he felt you tensing up, make you laugh again, distract you. But then you had nudged him and pointed out the photographer. “Relax, he’s not important,” he said softly, pulling you into his side, trying to keep his own breathing even. Your face had paled at the sight of the camera, and Ben was hit by an overwhelming urge to protect you. He kept you as close as he could, soothed you as best he could. It became easier once you’d reached the shop and could get lost among the other couples and groups of friends, though he caught you checking for the photographer through the glass of the shop front. Ben hesitated for half a second before he turned 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?” This wasn’t the carefree date he’d been fantasising about for months. But he held out hope it still could be. If only he could make you see it. He opened the wine, talked about the art options, anything to distract you from the world outside of the shop. You took a little to warm up but he was glad to see you looking around the room as he went to collect your blank ceramics, taking everything in, and soon enough you were both contemplating designs for mugs, the photographer and the reason for the date seemingly forgotten.

Ben’s hope grew with each passing minute. The longer you were there, the more at ease you became. He got to hear your laugh again, frequently. And the conversation flowed naturally as each of you concentrated on your artwork. The design came to him quickly and he went slow, trying to make his lines as straight as possible and trying to make the engagement ring look like the one you’d spent so much of the shoot wearing. We’re really good at this dating thing. Part encouragement to help when you got nervous, part wishful thinking perhaps. But it was a quote from the movie so you wouldn’t read too far into it. He couldn’t wait to see your reaction to the mug and, as soon as he was done, announced it. “Alright, show me then,” Ben watched closely as you examined the still wet design, chewing on his lip as he tried not to care if you cared that the lines weren’t totally straight or the colours didn’t work. But as soon as you realised what the quote was you smiled. He found himself grinning as you told him how much you loved it. “Thought it was kind of fitting. 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 turned the mug back towards himself, double checking for any flaws. He wanted it to be perfect for you, “Best proposal I’ve ever given.” He was on the verge of adding, “My real one will be better though,” but stopped himself short. That would lead to a topic of conversation he didn’t want to deal with. Not with you. Not now. He was a little surprised as you leaned in close and lowered your voice. “Promise I’ll get to keep it after we break up?” “Promise,” he said leaning closer as well. From the outside you must look like a proper couple, whispering sweet nothings as you ignored the rest of the room. His eyes darted to your lips. Kiss her. He could, couldn’t he? He could get away with it. That was what you were there for, to be a couple, to have photos taken of intimate moments. No one would question it if he just closed the gap, not even you. But he hesitated too long, the shriek of laughter from another table interrupting the moment. He leaned back in his seat, trying to put some distance between you before he lost his head again, “So do I get to see mine?”

Ben was nearly speechless when you did eventually let him see it. The guitar with the lyrics beside it. He couldn’t have stopped from smiling even if he’d wanted to. “And how did you know that’s one of my favourite songs?” “It is? It’s just the song I overheard you playing that one time.” That one time. A few weeks previous. Between scenes, as he’d waited for the cameras to be organised around the new set. He hadn’t meant for anyone to hear him, least of all you. But he’d been starting to feel tense and wanted to unwind before filming resumed so he’d gone back to his trailer and taken out his guitar. It was a song he’d always liked but he’d been listening to it more often since meeting you and it was the song his fingers had begun to play without him realising. Now here it was, on the mug you’d painted for him. And you had no idea that when he sang about the stun gun lullaby, he was singing about your laugh, or that you so completely had his attention that no other woman could compare. The song might have been written for someone else but whenever he heard it, it was you being sung about. Was that a sign to not give up hope? His heart ached with how much he wished you loved him the same. Fuck, love? He’d never let himself think the L word before, that was serious shit. But it fit. He was hopelessly in love with you and there didn’t seem like there was much he could do to change the situation.

                                                      ***

Ben looked up from his laptop to see you, brows furrowed, digging through your bag. “Something wrong?” he asked as you pulled your lips between your teeth, worrying at it absentmindedly, in what he had to admit was an adorable fashion. “Uhh, I think I need to go home,” “How come? If you forgot something I have a replacement here. What was it sunnies? Chapstick? A book?” “No, it’s not that sort of-” “Then what? You already have a toothbrush and PJs here,” “No it’s something else... I just think I’d be more comfortable at home today,” Ben tried to keep his voice steady but his mind was whirring with the possible reasons for your sudden wish to leave. Did you know about his secret? “Well a-are you sure I can’t help. We’re meant to be seen together this afternoon and if we leave now they won’t be able to get a shot of us smooching,” You chuckled at his word choice and he found it hard to repress his smile. “I’ll apologise to Mary and Peter, tell them something came up and see if we can reschedule,” “Are you positive there isn’t anything I can do?” You shook your head slightly, “if you really must know my period is a little early and I don’t have any tampons on me. Happy?” “Oh,” he began to laugh at your slight embarrassment, more relieved than embarrassed himself, “is that all?  Y/N, you’re not the first girlfriend I’ve had, fake or not. I’m a 29 year old man I can deal with talking about periods, and I can certainly run to the shop for you,” “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.” You didn’t look convinced, eyeing the doorway to the hall. “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.” You hesitated a moment longer, “oh alright, as long as you don’t mind,”

It took Ben two minutes to collect his shoes and wallet and car keys and then he was out the door, assuring you he’d be as quick as possible. On his way out he saw the photographer, getting into position by his front gate. He shot Ben a questioning look at the detour from the set plan as Ben hopped into his car. As he reversed out of the driveway he caught the photographer’s attention. “Making a run to the shop to pick up something for Y/N. Might be a good photo in it,” Ben felt odd talking to the man – a man who he recognised well enough, who had witnessed every intimate moment he’d shared with you (and who had been the catalyst for a number of them), but a man he knew next to nothing about. But he hoped that by leading the photographer away he was ensuring you’d have a peaceful respite from the constant intrusion of knowing you were being watched. The photographer nodded, replaced the lens on his camera and headed to his own car, following Ben to the closest supermarket. The distraction of communicating with the photographer was almost enough to make Ben stop kicking himself for not being more prepared for this eventuality. It was only once he was at the store, standing in front of a shelf of feminine hygiene products that he was truly side-tracked from his lack of foresight, and realised he had no idea what you wanted. You picked up your mobile on the third ring. “Hey, it’s Ben, what do you want?” “Don’t tell me you forgot already,” “No, I mean, what sort. There’s hundreds of boxes to choose from, I have no idea which brand you like or what, um…strength you need.” “Oh,” you laughed and described what your go to brand’s packaging looked like. He scoured the shelves, trying to block out the snap of a phone camera as the photographer got his shot. “Ah, got it,” he said as he finally located the right one, pulling down a box for you now and one to keep in his bathroom for future use, “see you in a few.” “Thanks Ben,” “It’s nothing,” he refrained from closing the call with a love you, instead just saying, “Part of the boyfriend package.” On his way back towards the register he detoured into the tea and coffee isle, picking out a box of herbal tea bags that said For Women on the box, hoping they’d sooth whatever cramps you were dealing with, and then grabbed a box of chocolates in case you wanted something sweet to snack on. The photographer was outside already, waiting to get a shot of him leaving with a full bag. 

It made Ben’s heart swell to see how grateful you were for his haul. He went to the kitchen to make you a tea and himself a coffee as you ducked into the bathroom. “Did you find the Panadol?” he asked, rattling the box of painkillers as you joined him in the lounge. “Yeah, thanks. I took two but I might need more in a few hours, if I’m still here. I’ll buy you a new box if I use too many,” “Don’t be daft. How are you feeling?” “Yeah fine. A few cramps but it’s nothing.” “Do you want a cuddle?” he asked without thinking. “What?” Ben shrugged, “I don’t know, my ex said that cuddling up with me made her feel better. But that’s a different- she probably said it so she had an excuse to make out a bit,” You laughed, “a cuddle would actually be very welcome right now,” “Oh, well in that case,” Ben shuffled over, patting the space beside him, and tried to remember that you weren’t really dating. But he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you tight against him and breathing deeply.

                                                      ***

Ben wasn’t drunk. Not properly so anyway. He was too much of a chatty drunk to trust himself when he was sloshed. He’d had enough to loosen up and to dull the ache he felt whenever he looked at you. And to leave his keys at the bar. Nothing a glass of water and some TV couldn’t fix. He’d lost himself in the show when his phone dinged, nearly jumping at the unexpected noise. It was a text from Joe.

WTF?

It took Ben a few seconds to work out what it referred to but then the afternoon came back to him, the last scene you’d filmed, the photo he’d posted. Shit. “Ah, shit. Forgot I said I’d call Joe. Do you mind if we pause the ep?” he cast around for a reasonable excuse, “We’re trying to organise travel stuff for him and it’s easier if we talk it through rather than texting it all.” “Sure,” you said, already pressing buttons on the remote. “I promise I won’t be long,” “Take your time, it’s fine.” Ben smiled though it slipped as he left the room and pulled up Joe’s number. He shut the door of the room he used when he stayed over, already sure this would not be a conversation he’d want you to overhear. “What the fuck is that photo Ben?” “It’s nothing,” he sighed, “just the last day of filming,” “Are you alright, you sound weird?” “We went out for a drink.” “You and Y/N?” “And the rest of the cast and crew. And, before you say anything, no I didn’t get so drunk I blabbed about anything. I do have some self control,” “I wasn’t saying anything,” “No but you were thinking it. Anyway, I think I’m allowed to have a few drinks under the circumstances. Not exactly easy being secretly in love with your co-star who you’re also fakely dating,” “Alright, alright, point made. But that doesn’t explain the photo,” “Like I said, last day of filming,” Joe waited for more and begrudgingly Ben continued. “It was our last scene together and I wanted to commemorate it,” “Thank you Y/N for being the perfect Edith to my Andy. And thank you @theperfectmatchmovie for finding me my perfect match.” “Y/N said it was a bit cheesy,” “Uhh yeah, little bit,” Joe laughed, “you’re not worried it was a bad idea?” “No. We got told to post stuff, which you already know since Y/Ns posted tonnes and you’ve commented on nearly all of them. Figured I should pull my weight,” “Someone has to keep an eye on you two. Stop you from doing something stupid.” “That’s what you’re doing is it?” “You sure you didn’t post the photo with that caption because you’re dying to tell her how you feel and this is a safe way to do so?” Ben scuffed his foot along the carpet, digging his toes into the rough material and feeling like a school boy being admonished by a teacher, “So what if it is?” “All I’m saying is be careful. You’re keeping two very large secrets and–” “Yeah Joe, I fucking know but I don’t have much of a choice here,” “That’s what I’m saying…look, I know you’re a bit of a romantic at heart but you’re also not the sort to get this hung up on unavailable skirt so I believe you when you say you love her. But don’t let it slip out because that’ll just make things worse.” “I don’t know what I was thinking getting into this mess,” “Neither do I. Frankly I don’t think you were thinking. At least, not about yourself.” “Yeah maybe. Doesn’t really matter though now does it?” “Alright. This is going to sound harsh, but it’s coming from a place of friendship. Just stop.” “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.” “That’s not what I meant. I understand you can’t get out of the fake relationship stuff. But, maybe you can get out of the other side of things. Just tell her. Intentionally, tell her. I know it’s not what you want to hear and I know you’re going to argue with me and say you can’t but why not? If you tell her and she admits she likes you then great, you can be together for real. Or, if you tell her and she says she doesn’t feel the same then she can’t get out either and you can be miserable together and she’ll at least stop hanging around you so much when you don’t have to be seen together and you can get over her.” Ben shook his head, “It doesn’t matter Joe. It doesn’t matter how I feel,” “I just think this whole situation…sucks for you. A mirthless laugh rose in Ben’s throat, “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,” “Are you sure she doesn’t feel something, even if she’s not saying it?” “No I know it’s completely one sided.” “Is there any chance she already knows? You’re not the most subtle guy in the world Ben, maybe she figured it out before you were approached about the fake out,” “No, I don’t think she knows. She wouldn’t have wanted to do it in the first place if she knew,” Ben heard Joe sigh, “I don’t know what to say then man,” “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.” “What about now that the movie’s finished?” “I don’t know. Maybe not filming together will make it easier to stop thinking about her…I doubt it though. It’s not like I haven’t tried already. I spent the whole of pre-production and the first weeks of filming trying to get her off my mind and I couldn’t I don’t know how and I don’t think I could unless we literally stopped talking to each other entirely and, honestly I don’t know that I could handle that. But again, we’re back at I don’t have a choice here. I have to keep seeing her and being with her and being her boyf-” A door slammed at the other end of the house, making Ben jolt. “What is it?” “Nothing, I think Y/N just went to the bathroom or something.” “She’s at your place?” “No, I locked myself out of my place. I’m at hers. I should go though, we’re halfway through an episode.” “Ben. Be careful.” “Always am.”

Ben hung up with a sigh. Joe could tell him to move on or spill the beans all he liked but it wasn’t so simple. He slapped his cheeks and shook his head to clear it, pulling a smile back onto his face as he headed back to the living room. He was a little surprised to see the room empty but settled himself on the couch once again, pulling a throw blanket over himself. It smelt like you. Without thinking he pulled up Instagram on his phone and revisited the photo. You’d commented on it, less cheesy but there were heart emojis strewn throughout. A similar sentiment to his original caption. He sighed and shook his head, clicking out of the app to find something else to read until you returned. The sound of your footsteps drew his attention. Something had changed. You looked pale and unwell. “Are you okay?” “Fine, thanks. Just tired. Might call it quits after this ep.” He didn’t think you’d drunk that much but maybe it was just starting to catch up with you now. Then again, it had been a long and emotional day. You had every right to be wiped out by it and especially now that you were home with no filming or celebrating to distract you from how exhausting it all was. He offered you a spot under the blanket in case it would make you feel better to have some human contact. Just for that reason of course, nothing to do with wanting to hold you. He shrugged it off when you refused and didn’t really think of it again until the episode ended and you went off to bed. He was still too alert to sleep himself, still dwelling on the conversation with Joe. So he flicked TV channels until he found something mildly distracting, a rerun of a dumb home renovation show that was easy to get sucked into.

When he did finally feel tired enough to go to bed he turned off the TV and the lights and began to tiptoe down the hall to his room. But there was light coming from your room. Not the yellow light of a bulb but the blue light of a phone or laptop. You were still up. Maybe you really weren’t feeling well. He wondered if he should check on you, offer to make you a tea with honey and lemon or something else comforting. Did you need tissues? A pot in case you had to throw up? Someone to hold your hair back? He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and sighed. This is exactly what you shouldn’t be thinking. He glanced at the light under your door again and then turned and continued his path up the hall. But, after that, he felt awake again. Unable to sleep. There was too much to think about. Maybe the caption on the photo had been a mistake. Maybe Joe was right and he should tell you. Maybe, maybe, maybe. When it came to you that’s all there was. A noise interrupted him, you groaning and the creak of springs as you shifted in the bed. Is she having a wank? That was his first thought. Does she need help? Was his next. Dangerous. Everything fell silent again and he realised you must have just rolled over to try and get comfortable. He didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed. He rolled onto his side, pulled the blanket up a little higher, willed himself to fall asleep but it was out of the question. You shifted again, your bed creaking with the movement. Maybe he should check on you, in case you were unwell. Or maybe there was something on your mind too. Maybe he could help. It was bound to be easier to solve than the mess he was in at any rate. He was on the verge of swinging his legs out of bed again when he was reminded of what Joe said about trying to forget you. He could feel that need to protect you, look after you, rising in his chest again. That wasn’t helpful, it wasn’t what he needed. He sighed and stayed in bed and listened to your tossing and turning until he finally managed to sleep himself. Only to dream of you.

                                                      ***

Ben settled the bill, walked out of the restaurant and kept walking. The entire time thinking back on the days, weeks before the fight was due to occur. Something had seemed off about you. Or maybe that was just hindsight. If he had noticed anything, if he had ever thought you seemed out of sorts, he’d put it down to stress from auditions, trying to find the next job. It wasn’t always easy lining up another project after one had finished. He understood how stressful it could be, especially for an actress like you who was on the cusp of something bigger, looking for your big break. But maybe he’d been blind. After that dinner, after everything you said, there was no denying that something more was going on.

You’d been…not your usual self. From the moment you arrived. He’d asked if you were nervous, but he hadn’t been able to see any of the usual signs. No bouncing let, no bitten lip. So nervous wasn’t it. But you weren’t happy either. He had been though, happy to see you, happy to be with you again. Even with the looming argument. Truthfully, he’d been thinking of what would happen after, when you were alone together and able to just hang out or whatever. He should have realised things were going south the moment you told him to stop looking so happy. He just kept repeating the evening over and over, rewinding and rerunning every moment as if he could figure it all out just from that. Another moment leapt to the front of his mind. “So having a public spat doesn’t bother you but you almost lost your lunch over our first date?” “That was just because the whole situation was new and I felt weird about going on a date with you.” That had hurt though he knew he shouldn’t have let it. Of course you’d have felt weird about going on a date with someone you had no interest in just for the sake of a movie. But still, it had hurt. A taste of what was to come. “Are you nervous?” You didn’t really seem to care what he said. Of course, he hadn’t given you the whole truth. It wasn’t totally dishonest to say argument scenes made him more nervous than love scenes but that was omitting bigger elements. Maybe it would have been more truthful to say the concept of a public fight wasn’t something he was particularly fond of. But at the time he’d felt like if he’d said then he’d have ended up admitting that it was especially true when you were involved. That all he wanted to do was look after you and love you, not argue in a room full of strangers just trying to enjoy a nice meal. After that he felt like he hadn’t been able to get you to say more than a few words. You who was usually so open and conversational. You who he’d spent more time with recently than just about anyone else. You who he could always talk to, joke around with. It was frustrating that you wouldn’t just tell him. He remembers feeling frustrated, of getting short with you. He regretted that. But that was when he was sure something was wrong. He might have ignored all the signs before that but as soon as he felt you had closed yourself off, he wanted to know why. Wanted to figure out what was bothering you, what could have happened. A fight with Felicity? Bad news about an audition? Maybe he’d said something offhanded and hadn’t realised he’d upset you (god if thats the case I want to know even more so I can apologise a hundred times over). He asked about it all, wanted to make things better, but then you were letting rip. Completely off book and unscripted, even when he gave you cues to get back on track. He would have been impressed with your performance except he was so taken aback by it. Without thinking he’d reached for your hand. He can see it happening in his mind, as if he were viewing the scene from above. The way you’d wrenched your hand away, leaving his sitting uselessly in the middle of the table. And all he could hear was “clingy and needy” in your voice with such…what was it, disgust? Hatred? And before he could so much as open his mouth to stop you, you were gone. That’s not what was meant to happen. You were meant to leave together and laugh about it afterwards. He wasn’t meant to be walking through London on his own, trying to figure out what went wrong.

It was then that Ben looked up and realised he didn’t know where he’d walked to. He considered stepping into a bar with all the noise to drown out your voice, all the alcohol he could handle to make him forget. Clingy and needy. But he thought better of it and turned to hail a cab instead. What he couldn’t stop himself from doing was calling you, though he was left disappointed when it went straight to voicemail. He listened for the beep as if he were going to leave a message but when the beep came he didn’t know what to say. What could he possibly say? What changed? Am I really so clingy? What can I do? Closer to home he tried again but the same thing happened. He hung up before the beep.

As he was letting himself inside his phone rang and for the length of a heartbeat he thought it was you. But it wasn’t. It was just Peter telling him that the video had gone live, congratulating you both for putting on such a good show, being so convincing. He ran through some early statistics, something about how many times it had been shared already, and then followed it by saying they wanted separation for a few weeks, until the make up dinner. Ben listened in a daze. When Peter finally hung up Ben opened twitter. The video was easy to find. He put his phone down on the kitchen bench and moved to pour himself a drink. Maybe he didn’t have quite as much alcohol as a bar, but he had enough to do the trick. His phone was staring at him the entire time. He shook his head, moved the phone to his pocket and headed to his bedroom. His guitar was there, the perfect way to clear his head. He picked it up, sat on the end of the bed and, without thinking, he played the opening chords of that song. Your song. With a slight clatter as his hands knocked the wood, he let the guitar drop back to the bed, trying to dig his phone out of his pocket. The video was still there, waiting for him. Proof. It wasn’t a nightmare, it wasn’t made up. He couldn’t see your face from the angle it was taken. But he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you pulled your hand back as if you couldn’t think of anything worse than having him touch you. And he could hear you. Clingy and needy.

Ben watched it just the once, unable to suffer through it again. It wass already playing on a loop in his head, he didn’t really need the visual reminder. And then he called Joe. There wasn’t really much else he could do. No one else he could talk to about it. Joe had seen it, had watched it, and he commented on how good it looked, how real it seemed. “I think that’s because it was. Y/N went completely off book. We didn’t plan it to be like that,” “Is that why you look so shocked?” “Yeah, guess so.” Ben gulped down a mouthful of his drink and wished he’d brought the bottle with him. “I’m trying very hard not to call her something beginning with B right now,” “Joe she’s not a bitch, she’s…I don’t know. Something must have happened, I just don’t know what. “Maybe she’s starting to crack? Pressure of keeping up a fake relationship is getting to her,” “Can you try not to sound too excited by the idea. I’d remind you I do actually love her and if things work out between us I’d like for you to meet her.” “You can’t blame me for disliking her when I get a call from you every other day telling me she’s broken your heart again,” “You’re such a drama queen,” “Fine, I’ll try to keep my dislike to a minimum. But could it be that? I know she doesn’t have the same baggage as you but it’s probably not easy for her either,” “She called me clingy. Needy. Why would she say that?” “Because she’s a bitch.” “Bloody hell Joe,” “Unless…” “Unless what?” “Is there any chance she knows?” “You mean about me? Come off it, absolutely not. It’s not like I tell everyone I meet about it. You’re the only person who knows.” “Alright, then it must be something else.” “What do I do? I can’t,” Ben sighed, “It was meant to be different. We were going to have words at the restaurant and then go home together looking tense and then laugh about it when we were alone but instead…instead I’m home alone with half a bottle of whisky and a fake girlfriend who won’t answer my calls. What the fuck am I meant to do with that?” “Just give her some space Ben. You don’t know it was you. It could have been any number of things. It might just be that she was having a bad day and because you were already set to have the spat, you caught the brunt of her frustration. She’ll call in a day or two, embarrassed and apologising and you can go back to pining in peace. Out of curiosity, what was the fight originally going to be like?” “Oh, um…We’d decided that I was going to suggest she meet my family and she was going to say she wasn’t ready for that and it was all getting too serious or something like that.” “Well, that’s pretty much what she actually said isn’t it?” Ben thought for a moment. He’d been so wrapped up in her description of him, he’d not really thought about the overall message of her monologue, “Yeah, I suppose it is.” “See, she wasn’t as off script as you thought. She just jumped the gun a bit and took you by surprise. I’d guarantee that it’s something else entirely and you just happened to be the unlucky outlet for her anger.” “Maybe you’re right. She did say that thing about pretending everything was okay and acting like we’re serious….how I love her more than she loves me,” “And you’re certain she doesn’t know,” “100 per cent. She’s never had the chance to find out,” “Then of course I’m right, it was just an issue of timing and you being in the line of fire,” “Maybe I should see her,” “No! Bad idea Ben. Really bad idea.” “I just want to be sure it wasn’t my fault. If I’d been less wrapped up in pretending she was my girlfriend then may-” “Stop beating yourself up. Just try not to drink too much and get some sleep. She’ll sort herself out and call when she’s less mortified by the whole thing.” “Okay, yeah,” “And for fucks sake, stay off twitter,” Ben hung up, feeling marginally better but unable to shake the feeling that it was somehow his fault. Clingy and needy. Clingy and needy. Clingy. And needy. The way you’d spat the words at him. The way you’d stormed out. He sighed, slumped forward, and ran his hands down his face. No, Joe’s right, it’s not you. But, as much as he repeated it, Ben still found tears clinging to his palms as he pulled them away.

                ��                                     ***

Ben looked at his phone and bit his lip. His eyes shifted back to the ocean of brake lights ahead of the car and then back to his phone. He was already running late and the traffic didn’t seem to be moving. God he did not want to be late. Not after everything that had happened. Not after you’d cleared up the mess from the fight, not after he’d made such an effort to be less clingy, to give you more space. Things weren’t back to normal by any stretch but at least you were talking again, at least you’d missed him. The conversation you’d had the previous night, staying on the phone to watch TV. He’d been surprised by your suggestion but equally as thrilled. It had to be a sign that you felt something too. People don’t just watch episodes of TV over the phone for anyone, do they? He was in with a chance, he knew it. But, in the hours after the episode had ended and the call with it, he’d come to one conclusion. He had to tell you. He had to bite the bullet and tell you. If he wanted something real with you, you had to know. And if he kept it secret any longer it could lead to more arguments which he definitely did not want. What he wanted was for you to understand why he’d become so attached, and hopefully, to reciprocate. So he was going to tell you. And he couldn’t be late.

As the car inched forward Ben made up his mind. He was going to be there on time, one way or another. With a thankful word to the driver he got out of the car and hurried onto the pavement, beginning to walk towards the restaurant. He’d spent all day feeling like he was about to have a heart attack, chest aching with how badly he wanted to see you and how nervous he was about your reaction. He wasn’t going to fuck up now. As he walked a display in a shop window caught his eye and he quickly stepped inside. The bell tinkled as he entered, getting the assistant’s attention. She gave him a up and down glance as she greeted him, as if trying to determine the occasion based on his outfit alone. “Welcome to Coming Up Roses, what can I do for you?” “I need a bouquet,” “I can certainly help with that. Any flowers you had in mind?” “Uhhh not really. Spur of the moment,” “Well what’s the occasion then? I have flowers for everything from weddings to funerals, I’m sorry to Congratulations,” “Um, I’m about to tell the girl of my dreams that I’m in love with her,” The woman smiled, “I’ve got just the thing,”

A minute later and Ben was once again hurrying up the street, clutching the freshly wrapped bouquet, his heart pounding as he tried not to worry about how much time was passing. He had to pause at one point to get a map up on his phone, unsure of the restaurant’s exact location. He was further away than he thought and quickened his step, threading through groups of people on nights out, trying not to bump into anyone. You were already there, waiting. He could see you from half a street away and ran to meet you, kissing your cheek and handing over the bouquet before he really registered that that’s what he was doing. It was only as you were smelling the flowers and complementing them that he realised you were there, actually there, and he suddenly felt extra nervous about it all. “I saw it in the shop and, um yeah, I don’t know, they seemed nice, a-and I know you, um, like nice things, so,” Ben wanted to die, wanted to be sucked into a hole in the ground, sent through a time warp, anything to not be there babbling at you like a fucking idiot. “It’s very sweet of you, thank you,” “I’m glad you think so because right now it feels kinda cliché and cheesy.” Shut up “Now you have to carry them around all night,” fucking shut up, “what was I thinking?” for the love of all that is holy, “And god can I just shut up. Sorry.” He didn’t know what had come over him, but he wished it would go away. And things only got worse as he looked you over, took in your whole appearance. Seeing you just made him want you even more, especially with how gorgeous you looked. He wanted to kiss you, tell you. But he had to be able to speak to tell you and he wasn’t going to be able to do that until he relaxed a little. A drink, that’s what he needed. He downed his first one fast, willing it to work its magic. It did help calm him, though your laugh just made his heart race again. Halfway through the next glass he felt like he could say it and was on the verge of just getting it out into the open when you were interrupted, shown to your table. He took it as a sign that it would be bad timing and that he needed to wait. Instead he focused on just having a good night with you. The memory of your last dinner was still in the back of his mind but he pushed it away by reminding himself that things were better now. He felt himself relax more as you talked and with every touch you gave him. The drinks were definitely part of it too but he put it down to you mostly. How much you sooth him, how happy he finds himself when he’s in your presence. He could breathe properly again. You startled him a little by saying Joe would want to meet you but of course, you don’t know that he knows that it’s all a big production so you just meant it in a friend-being-curious-about-the-girlfriend type way. Very far from the truth. But Ben agrees and changes the topic.

When dessert arrived, he thought maybe that could be a good time to say it because it’s the end of the meal and you can leave quickly if you need to. But before he get’s to it he finds himself asking something else instead. “Can I ask about these last couple of weeks?” He hoped he hadn’t wrecked the evening by bringing it up but he was curious too, “Was it good? The space, did you get what you wanted from it?” Ben worried at his lip as he watched you slowly finish your mouthful and set the spoon down. “Yes. I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t helpful because it really was. Just, having that break from everything. I think I really needed it. But I really really missed you too.” That was a relief. Proof that you were on the same page again, back to normal. And proof that you did care about him. “I’m glad. It was hard not seeing you but yeah, helped me figure some stuff out too. Confirmed some other stuff.” “Like what? If you don’t mind me asking.” This is it, this is your moment, “Like, um,” He wanted to say it, had the words picked out already but, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t risk driving you away again, causing another scene. Maybe he could say it back at his place, away from the cameras and the interested public. Maybe that would be smarter. All the same, he felt disappointed with himself for not having the guts to just tell you, and to try to cover the moment asked if you wanted to leave. As you step outside he remembers the kiss that was expected and he leans in to remind you. It’s more than a kiss though, different to all the other times you’d kissed. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. Any excuse really. And he says as much when he, somewhat accidentally admits to having missed kissing you. It was a thought that somehow slipped out of his mouth, but either you didn’t hear him or you were too caught up in the moment to say anything. Or she feels the same. He pushed the hopeful thought down as you kissed him back. His heart pounded as he felt your hands on his chest, as if it were trying to tell you what he’d been too much of a coward to say. And then you whined and settled on his lap and god what a fucking gorgeous sound. He’d spent months getting off to the memory of a hum and now you were gifting him a whine? An eager, excited whine at that. The sort of thing he’d been trying to imagine and it was so much better than anything he’d come up with. Your hand was in his hair and he very nearly echoed your noise back to you from that alone, but it caught in his throat as you kept kissing him, tongues twisting, your chest pressed against his. He wanted to hold you close and touch every part of you he could reach all at once, unsure of whether to grab your arse or you hip or the back of your neck. So he did a bit of it all, slid his hand along your arm and then down your back and then to your arse. And all too soon it stops. He could have cursed that driver and the heartless car horn that interrupted and sent reality crashing back down around him.

Once you were inside the safe zone of his house, away from the act, he expected things to go back to normal. You’d take off your makeup and then make a cup of tea and fill a glass of water for your flowers and you’d wind down with something on TV before you both went to bed. He’d have to have a shower to get off without you suspecting anything because there was no way he was going to be able to sleep with the memory of your tits pressed against him and your whine and your kiss swimming around his head. But you don’t walk to the bathroom like you normally do. He pulls the wallet from his pocket, places it deliberately next to his keys. But you still haven’t moved. He turns slowly, notices the way you swallow and lick your lips and he swears he’s on the verge of asking what you’re doing or saying something about it being a mistake, at least the thought crosses his mind, but you were standing so close (when did she get so close?) and when you kiss him again he just kisses back.

It’s a mistake probably, definitely, he knows that. He can hear the siren in his head again telling him to stop, pull away. But the problem is that it doesn’t feel like a mistake, doesn’t feel like it should be, and when he takes a step back you step with him and again and again until he’s somehow on the couch with you on his lap again. And why would he stop that, why would he say no to you when you fit there so perfectly and you feel so good? And all he can think about is that whine and that hum from all those months ago and he wants to see what other sounds he can pull from you so he drops his lips to your neck. “Wait, wait,” He’s confused as to why you’re stopping him and even more confused when you’re not in his arms anymore. “It’s rule one Ben,” Bugger rule one. Bugger all the fucking rules, you’ve broken most of them tonight anyway if they weren’t already broken. A voice in the back of his head reminds him what a big mistake that would be, but it can’t argue against making out. Making out isn’t against the rules and you know it too, you hesitate when he says it out loud. “I’d be good to you Y/N, you know I would,” he’s not sure if he’s talking about here and now, physically, or something deeper, something in the realm of boyfriend but what does it matter because both are true. You shake your head, “You know this isn’t real, right Ben?” And then it all comes out. That you knew about his crush. And everything stops. Just stops. He can’t breathe, air doesn’t exist anymore, and he’d say his heart had stopped too except he can hear it pounding in his ears, drowning out whatever you’re saying. You knew? You’d known for months? All those times Joe had suggested it, all that time he spent worrying about keeping it from you and you already fucking knew? And then everything seems to speed up all at once. The air rushes back, as loud as his heart, which only doubles it’s pounding until he can feel it trying to punch a hole through his chest and escape. Rational thought returns, connecting dots and drawing conclusions almost faster than he can keep up. “Is that why you were upset before the argument? Is that why you didn’t want to see me for the last two weeks?” “I thought some space might help you stop feeling that way.” He has to laugh at how fucking ridiculous an idea that is. That space would have ever helped him purge you from his system. Love isn’t that easy to get rid of. And his tongue must have sped up with the rest of his body because he’s saying it, the thing he’s been putting of saying, the thing he’s been wanting to tell you all night, and he wishes he could stop because this isn’t how he wanted it to go. This wasn’t how you were meant to find out. But no matter how much he screams at himself he can’t take it back. It’s out there. And you look horrified. “You love me?” Three words have never been spoken with more contempt than you managed to cram into that once sentence. “You don’t have to say you don’t feel the same, I know.” Your silence cuts through him like a knife, shredding what little hope remained. His heart isn’t beating against his chest anymore. It’s been kicked across the room and lies lifeless against the wall.  “That’s what I thought.”

He can’t be here anymore, can’t look at you. He wants to leave but he remembers all the cameras outside, reminds you of their presence in case you’re planning the same escape he is. He’s trapped there and so are you. So he puts as much space between you as he can, heads to his room and slumps heavily onto the end of his bed. All he can think about is those three words, you love me? Not a hopeful question. Not even stunned surprise.  More of an accusation. He tastes blood but otherwise barely notices when he tears his lip with his teeth. You must hate him for getting you both into this mess. He hates that he’s done it, that he’s put you in this position. And he knows you’re never going to want to speak with him let alone see him again. And he knows that as soon as the cameras leave, you’ll leave too. And that thought hurts just as much as everything else. You’re moving about, he can hear you walking around. It sounds like you’re pacing. Five steps and then a turn and then five more steps, another turn. Something about the rhythm breaks through his overactive, panicking, worrying mind. Something about it calms him. Maybe it’s that knowing you’re restless and agitated makes him want to comfort you, despite everything he’s feeling. Or maybe it’s just because the sound of your footfall means you’re still here. And if you’re still here then maybe he can smooth things over. He doesn’t expect to fix everything. He’d understand if you still wanted to erase him from your contacts and pretend you were only ever colleagues. But if he can just explain himself, explain that he never meant for this to happen, explain why he kept it from you or tried to anyway and maybe explain what he’d wanted tonight to be instead of the clusterfuck it’d become. If he can get any of that out then maybe you won’t hate him quite so much.

He says your name softly, not sure he’s allowed to say your name, “I heard you pacing.” “Sorry, I’ll keep the noise down.” “No, that’s not- it’s okay. I just thought, since we’re both clearly awake and since they haven’t left yet, I thought you might like a cuppa.” “I didn’t think you drank tea,” Have you really not noticed yet? He never bought tea bags, until you started coming to stay over regularly. Twice you opined about not being able to have a cup of tea before bed and that was all it took for him to start keeping them in his cupboard along with the biscuits you prefer. That’s how he knows it’s love. He took a breath as he pulled out mugs and stuck the kettle on, resolutely not looking at you. If he looks at you he’ll spill his guts and won’t be able to stop. He has to make tea first. Just the way you like it. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” It comes out the second he looks at your face and it’s only that you’re telling him you understand that he doesn’t immediately say more. He drops his eyes to the brown liquid in his mug, undrinkable in his opinion, but a perfectly adequate distraction. He needs to get the words right this time. No stumbling and stuttering, no blurting things out without thinking. He needs to say it right so you’ll listen and understand what he’s trying to do. “I promise I understand where you’re at and I’m not going to try and convince you or to chase you or anything like that. I really am trying not to feel this way.” He glances back at your eyes, terrified of what he’d see there. “It’s okay Ben, I know you wouldn’t. I just wasn’t expecting you to drop the L bomb.” “Please don’t hate me,” it’s a whisper compared to everything else he’s said but there’s no way to make his voice stronger. It’s the thing he’s most worried about and admitting it out loud to you is harder than he imagined it would be. “I could never,” the sincerity with which you say it is almost enough to make him cry but the hug is what pushes him over the edge. It’s more warmth and kindness than he thinks he deserves after everything he’s done. And it’s exactly what he needed. Comfort and reassurance in one simple gesture. He wraps his arms around you for the third time that night, his face pressed into the cook of your neck, and you let him, squeezing back, as he lets everything out.

                                                        ***

The night after you met Joe, Ben visits him again, this time without you. It had always been the plan, to see Joe a few times, as much as the press circuit would allow, while he was in the US. But after the previous night it’s more necessary. And yet, Ben was struggling to vocalise any of his questions. It’s not until after dinner, when Joe suggests they take their drinks out onto the veranda, that any of it comes up. It’s peaceful out there, sitting in the cool night air, each of them taking turns to swig from their beer bottle as they talk. But Ben’s mind is constantly disrupted with thoughts of you. It’s the first time since all the promotion stuff started that he’s had more than a couple of minutes away from your side. Joe isn’t helping, constantly glancing at Ben, frowning, as if he’s trying to work something out. But he’s the first to crack, making it easier for Ben to talk. “How’s it going?” “Press is fine, bit boring. You know how repetitive it can get,” “And you know that’s not what I meant,” “Yeah. Nah, everything’s fine. Mostly,” “Mostly?” “It’s not easy having to share a room with her. I mean, it’s fun though. I’m glad she’s the one I’m doing all this shit with. We’re mates and we’ve been working so closely for so long now that we…get each other. Like there was this interview where one of the questions made me uncomfortable and she knew straight away and broke in to take some of the heat. She just says whatever she can to make me laugh or ease the tension or whatever will help. And I know when she’s getting nervous and needs a break or a fresh cuppa. But when it’s just us in our suite it’s…hard. I don’t know, I’m just trying to keep some distance even though there’s not much to be had. What did you think of her?” “Honestly?” “Of course,” “She’s perfect for you. Except for the not being interested part.” Ben nodded, letting his eyes fall to where his fingernail was digging into the label on his bottle. “Although…” “What?” Ben looked back at Joe, “You think she might be?” “I don’t know. And I don’t want to get your hopes up. She certainly doesn’t think she is. I asked her about it while you were out here last night and she was adamant that she doesn’t think of you that way but that’s not how it looked to me.” “We had a moment yesterday. Just before we came here. Nearly kissed.” “Seriously? Again?” “I stopped it. Kind of wish I hadn’t. Maybe if something happened, she’d change her mind,” “I know I’m not part of this situation and I wasn’t there and can only go off of what you’ve said and the one time I’ve met her but, for what it’s worth, I think you made the right call.” “Yeah?” “I don’t think you want anything to happen with her until you’re both more sure where you stand. Definitely not while you’re stuck sharing a hotel room.” “But what if -” Joe shook his head, “I watched her last night. She looked at you a lot and not just because you were the one talking. She also smiled a lot whenever your attention was on her. I was half expecting her to say she had a thing for you but wasn’t sure if she should tell you or something like that. So I think there is a good chance she is attracted to you but for some reason, doesn’t want to admit it and I think sleeping with her would just make things more complicated and worse for both of you. You said she had her little freak out thing when you were hooking up after that date. You don’t want to let things get further and have her freak out again.” “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just confusing myself because we’ve been in such close quarters. I just wish things were more certain y’know? Like, she keeps saying she doesn’t like me as more than a friend but then we’ll have a moment like we did in the hotel, or like on the plane when she was leaning on my shoulder to help with my crossword puzzle, or when we fucking made out. And then I’m back getting my hopes up only for her to turn around and crush me again. And it’s probably nothing anyway. Just pent up urges since we’ve been fucking trapped in this for months now.” “I don’t know man, it might be more than that. She seemed really into you last night.” “Nah. She’s horny and I’m there and that’s why we’ve had these near kisses and stuff. She’s said she doesn’t like me so that’s it. Maybe it’s better that way anyway.” Joe shook his head again but let the subject drop, “So how long are you here for again? There’s this restaurant up the road I should take you to.”

                                                      ***

The closer he got to his parent’s place the more tightly wound Ben felt. Bringing a girl home to meet the family was always at least a little nerve wracking – wondering whether they’d like her, whether she’d like them, how many embarrassing stories he’d have to sit through. But he could safely say that with you it was worse than with anyone else. There was so much history with you, despite never having legitimately dated, that he couldn’t stop thinking about. You meant so much to him. And he knew his mum was going to love you (how could she not) and that meant he was going to be asked why it took him so long to bring you around and about where it was headed and they were questions he didn’t really feel up to answering. Of course, on top of all of that, there was the prospect of sharing a room with you, maybe a bed. You hadn’t entirely worked out the arrangement and not knowing was just making him more nervous. Not just for himself either, for you as well. If he was nervous he could only imagine you were too. You were going to be facing questions as well, judgement from a new family. A family you didn’t even want to be part of. So he kept close to you all night. Because it’s easier to pretend to be a couple when you’re by his side and it’s easier to avoid tough conversations when he has the excuse of introducing you to someone else up his sleeve. And it’s so much easier to keep his folks away from you when he’s got your hand in his. He does circuits of the garden with you, chats to everyone with you, repeating the story of how you met and the fiction of how you started dating. And the whole time he’s trying to make sure you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself at least a little because you don’t even have actual feelings for him to push you on. He’d gladly endure first meetings with every single member of your family tree if you asked but he knows you’re only there because you have to be. Unfortunately, he’s also had a bit to drink so eventually he has to relieve himself, silently cursing his bladder because it means he has to leave you on your own. You don’t seem to mind too much. If anything, it feels like you’ve found your feet and are actually having a good night which he’s glad for. But he still goes as quick as he can.

He’s on his way back when he sees you and instantly realises something’s wrong. Your leg is bouncing so rapidly it’s a wonder you don’t knock the underside of the table, and you’re looking around as if you’re trying to find him. His first thought is that someone has said something inappropriate. There’s plenty of drunk cousins around and who knows what one of them might have said or done in a misguided attempt to be charming or impressive or flirtatious. But then he realises who you’re sitting next to and his stomach drops. So he hurries over to the table and takes the seat beside you, laying his hand on your knee to try to calm you. It works well enough for you to be able to sit there a little longer until he can find a reasonable excuse to leave the table and his mum. He’s not in the mood to be at the party anymore and leads you to the exit, politely waving off anyone who tries to convince you both to stay a little longer. “Better?” he asks once you’re outside, relieved when you say yes. “She mentioned us getting married,” “What? Why the fuck would that have come up?” Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d been prepared for a lot but not that. “It was just a passing comment but I….” “It’s okay, c’mon, let’s go home you can tell me everything.” Without thinking he pulled you into a hug, breathing out when he felt you lean into him.

By the time he got back to the house Ben wanted another drink. You’d sat under his arm the entire ride back, keeping quiet, obviously lost in thought as you absentmindedly played with his fingers. Every brush had made him want to take your hand properly and tilt your head up to kiss you, irresponsible and selfish as it might be. One of the upsides of being back home was knowing where his parents hid their best booze, so he dug out a bottle of his dad’s Johnnie Walker, feeling a little like a teenager again, pinching a drink to impress a girl. You laughed though so he counted it as a win. But the reason you were alone together, no longer at the party, was still weighing on him and clearly on you as well. “So what happened back there?” He handed you a glass and waited until you felt you could speak. “I guess it was just harder to be around your family than I was expecting.” Everything you said made sense he supposed. He’d not really considered it that way because he wasn’t so much lying as just playing pretend. But, as much as he wished you were on the same page, he understood where your guilt came from. He tried to make you laugh again but when it didn’t work he set his glass down and took your hand. “Seriously, Y/N, there’s nothing to feel guilty about. The premiere is coming up in a couple of weeks and then pretty soon after that we’ll break up and I’ll tell them it just wasn’t working. They’ll accept it and never have to know the truth. And then we can forget this whole thing and move on.” His chest tightened at the thought of it, not being allowed to even pretend to have you anymore but he clamped down on it for your sake. “But it must be hard for you too. Having me here and everything,” He half shrugged, looking down at where his thumb was brushing the back of your hand softly, “I’m a big boy, I can handle it.” Ben glanced back at you, about to tell you it was sweet of you to care about how he was doing, but when he saw your expression he stopped.

He was a little shocked by the kiss, stumbling back a step or two, the warning siren blaring in his head again. Everything told him to run away and yet his feet were frozen in place. Joe had been right when he said he shouldn’t do this, and he’d been here before. It hadn’t gone well then so what made him think it would be better this time? But somehow he can’t find the words and you kiss him again and he decides he’s going to let it happen. He’s sick of trying to fight how badly he wants you and you clearly want this too. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be trying to undress him. He decides he’s going to let himself be selfish for once and just go with it. After the decisions made it all turns into a bit of a blur really. You’re leaning against the table and then he’s carrying you up to his room and it’s like every almost kiss, every missed opportunity and pent up moment you’d never let yourselves have is breaking all at once. You’re on his bed now and god he’s wanted you like this for so fucking long and who cares if it’s wrong. One night won’t matter. And he’s surprised by how wet you are when you pull his hand towards your cunt but he loves that you’re taking the initiative and that you clearly want him just as much as he wants you. You don’t tell him to stop. You tell him how to touch you, what feels good, and he loves that about you too. Even more than he loves how you sound saying his name as you clench on his fingers and shiver through your orgasm and fuck, he thought the whine from last time was a captivating sound but it has nothing on this, on how you sound when you cum for him. He’s going to be thinking about that moment, about you saying his name like that forever. He wants to be inside you, wants to hear it again, wants to make you feel even better and he’s forgotten where you are and how you got there so he leans over and realises this isn’t this room. This room isn’t as prepared as he’d like. For a moment he thinks that’s it and maybe it’s for the best except then you say you have condoms as you get up and rummage through your bags. He wants to know why – were you planning this or are you always just prepared like that? – except then you’re coming back towards him and he really doesn’t care why, just that you do. You climb on top of him and he feels breathless at the sight. He wants to worship you, every inch of you, and he wants to be as close as possible, pushing himself up to kiss you again because he loves you. He says it without meaning to but he doesn’t care, he’s just trying to get you to moan his name again, rubbing your clit until you’re both finished, breathing hard against each other. You’re kissing along his jaw and he wants to stay like that forever, blissed out and tangled in each other’s embrace. But reality rushes back, ignoring how desperately he’s trying to cling to the moment, and he realises how messy everything suddenly is. It hurts too. Knowing it’s not real, knowing that you don’t want what he wants. He remembers what he said just moments before, that confession whispered against your lips, and it makes him feel queasy with embarrassment on top of the heartache that’s already setting in. How many times does he have to put himself through this pain before he gets it through his head? It’s not reciprocated. It never will be. “I’ve gotta…” Ben nods his head in the direction of the door, hoping you’ll fill in the blank yourself. He wants to leave but he also wants to stay there with you, so he settles on shifting out of your reach and looking over at you, not quite able to meet your eye. “I wasn’t expecting that to happen,” Weren’t you? “Neither. Are you okay?” “Yeah. I, um, it was really good and I-I think I kind of needed it.” Ben tried to smile but it didn’t feel like it worked properly. Sure you needed it. A quick fuck to break the forced dry spell. He wanted to run from the room, flee the scene “It was good for me too. Really good. But it can’t ever happen again.” He averted his eyes again, focused on slipping back into his underwear. There was half a second where he looked around for his shirt before realising it was out at the table with the unfinished whiskies. He’d have to tidy up so no one would be able to work out what happened.

Ben downed what remained of both drinks, the burn of the alcohol a welcome distraction, though much too brief. He grabs his phone from the table, drops the glasses onto the kitchen sink and heads outside to throw the used condom into the garbage bin. As if he was going to leave the evidence of his cowardice and misjudgement inside for anyone to find. Ben turned to head back towards the door, but he didn’t want to walk through it. Inside he’d have to face you and he wasn’t sure how to do that yet. Instead he walked down the sideway into the backyard, taking a seat on the retaining wall by the flower bed of peonies. It’s not exactly warm sitting there in just his boxers and his fingers shake a little as he unconsciously find’s Joe’s name in his contacts. Joe must be busy or asleep or something (What’s the time difference again?) because he doesn’t pick up. Instead the call goes to voicemail. “Joe, it’s Ben here. Um… you’re gonna laugh so hard when you hear how fucking stupid I am,” Ben forces a laugh himself, “So I, uh, I just told Y/N that I love her….again….while we were having sex.” A pause as it sank in, “I’m not even sure how it…how we got to… We were just talking and then we were in bed and…. But it’s okay because I told her it could never happen again,” Ben thinks of how affectionate you’d been after, kissing his jaw and his nose, clinging to him, but it wasn’t real, it was just your post-sex, post-orgasm mood. He starts to laugh, less false but not entirely natural either, “I have to drive back with her tomorrow. Christ. Talk about bad timing, huh. But it’s fine though, it’s fine, totally fine. Joe, it’s fine. Because it wasn’t real. We’ve both been pent up and she spent all day with my family and had to listen to my mum talk about us maybe getting married. This was her reward. And that’s all it was. And I’m the idiot for hoping it could ever be more than that. I mean it’s not like friends don’t sometimes fuck, right? Especially when they’ve been drinking and pretending to date. Sex doesn’t have to mean feelings and it doesn’t for her and that’s fine.” There was that tight feeling in his chest again. Ben cleared his throat. “The drive will give me a chance to tell her it was a mistake. Because it was. This whole thing was a mistake. It was a mistake to fuck her and it was a mistake to bring her to meet my family and it was a mistake to pretend to date her and the biggest mistake of all of them was falling for her. And I haven’t been doing enough to reverse that. I know I said I have been, but I haven’t. I got caught up in the maybes and what ifs and I didn’t really try to move on. But now I…. It’s gotta fucking end sometime. I can’t keep doing this. So I’ve got to tell her it was a mistake and I don’t love her. Maybe I never did. Maybe I’m the same as her and it was all just because I was horny. Whatever. Now I can move on with my life. She doesn’t love me and I don’t love her and she’ll just be some bitch I nailed and we’ll both be happy, right?” Ben sighed and swiped at his blurry eyes. He’s not sure if the voicemail cut out midway through his thought process but it probably doesn’t matter. Movement from upstairs catches his eye. You in his old bedroom, getting dressed and leaving the room. He’s a little worried that if he heads back inside now he’ll bump into you on your way to get a drink from the kitchen but he can’t sit outside in the chill air all night. He takes a breath and swipes his knuckle over his eyes again before heading back inside, creeping towards the bedroom. You weren’t anywhere to be seen, though he guesses that means you’re in the bathroom. When he reached the bedroom again, he dug into the closet and pulled out a number of spare blankets, stealing a pillow from the bed. It’s not a particularly comfortable nest that he makes but it’s warm and doesn’t smell as much like you as the bed does. The pillow still holds a trace of you, but he flips it over and the scent is gone. He’s there when you get back, already pretending to sleep, curled in on himself facing away from you. “Ben?” He squeezes his eyes tighter shut, listening as you flick off the light and tiptoe back towards the bed. There’s a creak of springs as you get comfortable and then another as you move again. “Ben?” Your voice sounds even softer that time and Ben is tempted to answer but he bites his tongue. “Ben I-I…. Goodnight.” There’s another creak as you settle back down again. Ben lies perfectly still until he’s sure you aren’t going to move again. He doesn’t want to hear whatever you’re trying to say. It’ll just be everything he already knows. So he keeps quiet and feigns sleep in the hopes that real sleep will bring it’s respite sooner rather than later.

                                                      ***

Ben’s phone rang and he admonished himself for hoping it was you. He was meant to be getting over you. Besides, the hope was misplaced. It was his mum. “How did Y/N’s audition go?” “Uh,” It took him a moment to remember the excuse he’d made up, “yeah, well I think.” “She’s lovely, Ben. I’m glad you finally let us meet her,” “Yeah,” He didn’t know how else to respond but his mother didn’t need much more encouragement than that. “You should bring her back soon, I’d love to have more of a chance to get to know her. It was a bit hard with so many people there.” “Yeah, um, I’d have to check when we’re free.” He said, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I’m sure you could find one night for us,” “Yeah. But there’s the premier coming soon and we’ve both got auditions and meetings lined up so I don’t know for sure. But let me talk to Y/N and we’ll find a day that works.” “Maybe a weekend? You could stay for a couple of days then, wouldn’t have to rush off.” “We’ll see. Depends.” “Don’t leave it too long honey,” “I won’t mum. Sorry, I’ve got to run, expecting a call back about something.” “Alright, love you,” “Love you too mum,” Ben threw his phone to the other side of the couch and sighed. He’d been expecting that call but that didn’t make it any easier to get through. Not when he’d spent the last few days thinking about that night and everything that had happened. The way your lips felt on his, the way you’d looked sitting on his lap, the way you’d sounded when you came. He shook his head as if he were an etch-a-sketch but the thoughts didn’t disappear, they just morphed into thoughts of later, in the car on the way home. How you’d nodded when he’d said he didn’t love you, clearly overjoyed with the news but trying not to show it.

 Ben hadn’t gone cold turkey with you, there was still some contact, but he refrained from anything too unnecessary, spent as much time as he could with his other friends, and tried to keep any replies to you as simple as possible. Unfortunately his parents was less restrained. A few days later his mum called again, checking if he’d had a chance to invite you over yet. The day after he received a message from his dad suggesting he come down for lunch on the weekend (and encouraging him to bring you along), and then a couple days after that there was another call, one which he ignored. Every time he was thrown back to that night. But not even ignoring the calls helped. It just left him dwelling on everything and it didn’t even deter them. When next his mum called he found himself in yet another conversation on the topic and only just managed to stop himself from hanging up in her ear. He couldn’t do it anymore. It was pointless, all of it. The part of him that had thought you’d fall for him if you slept together had been proven wrong so there was nothing left to hope for. But with his family and friends thinking you were dating, always asking after you, and with you texting him memes and requesting his help, how was he meant to move on? What he needed was a clean break. But the breakup wasn’t scheduled until after the premiere and it wasn’t like a date had been set, it was up to the studio or your agents or someone else. And Ben wasn’t sure how he’d be able to wait it out that long.

 A breakthrough came in an email from Peter, an update about the movie Ben had signed on for. Originally it was meant to film in England, but those plans were in the process of changing. Part of it would still be done around London but now it seemed a big portion of the filming would happen in Spain too. Peter seemed unsure as to how this change would clash with the plans for the breakup but Ben saw it as the opportunity he needed. He wouldn’t be leaving until after the premiere anyway so it wouldn’t change your last public appearance together, but it would also work as the clean break he’d been looking for. Plus, as he reasoned to Peter, they could use the distance as an excuse for why the breakup happened. Peter seemed to like the idea and agreed that the change of location wouldn’t affect anything enough to make Ben drop out. Ben was relieved, having been excited about the project since he first picked up the script, and began looking forward to getting away from you properly. Being in a completely different country would give him the time and space he needed to stop thinking about you. It would be easy to sever all ties to you and get on a plane and move on, maybe meet someone who could drive you from his mind. He’d have to break up with you though, not just through the press but as a friend too. He couldn’t have you texting him while he was away or commenting on photos he posted online. It had to be complete. He had to remove you from his life entirely. After the premiere would be a good time to tell you. He’d pull you aside at the party or maybe tell you in the limo on the way home. It’d be hard to explain but you’d understand. She’s probably been wondering how to get rid of you anyway. Surely, you’d be pleased to hear he was going to leave you alone, not bother you with his stupid feelings anymore. You’d agree it was for the best.

                                                      ***

The night of the premiere snuck up on Ben. He’d been distracted with warding off his parents every invitation, on top of sorting out everything for his trip to Spain. Before he knew it the night had arrived making him feel equal parts excited about seeing the final product of what he’d spent so many months working on and anxious about seeing you. All he could think about was what he was going to say to you. He felt bad about cutting you from his life but there was relief too, knowing it’d be over soon. As he dressed in the suit his stylist had picked out he went over the speech he’d mentally written. It’s just a breakup, you’ve done it before. Tell her you’re sorry but you can’t see her anymore. That’s all you have to do. So, it was with this confusing mixture of emotions that he got into the limo and he only felt more ill at ease as he approached your place to pick you up. “You look lovely,” he said as you climbed into the car beside him. It came out more robotic than he meant it to. But there was a sense that this was the last time he’d be allowed to properly look at you so, while you were getting settled and taking in the interior of the limousine, he allowed himself a final chance to look you over. A hundred other adjectives to describe how beautiful you were, all dressed up and glowing, popped into his head but he kept those to himself. He couldn’t second guess his decision now. It was the only way to stop caring about you. And yet, he could feel his resolve crumbling just from being near you for the first time in weeks. No. Don’t let her get to you. This is why you can’t be in contact. Ben felt his hand curl into a fist as he reminded himself how useful the space would be. What he needed was some rules, guidelines to follow to help him stick to his plan. He ignored the irony as he came up with them. No holding hands. Actually, make that no physical contact. No voluntary physical contact anyway. He was bound to be asked by someone to take a photo with you or appear on camera with you and he couldn’t refuse if they asked for him to touch you or kiss you or anything. Do as many interviews as you can without her. That would hopefully keep interactions to a minimal. Don’t look at her during the movie.

 It was surprisingly easy to stick to the rules as you both made your way down the red carpet, but he knew it wasn’t so much his choice as it was how busy and noisy and chaotic everything was. People called his name from every side, reporters looking for quick interviews, fans looking for autographs or photos. He was able to sidestep you easily, answering questions that were thrown at him on his own until someone asked if they could speak to you both at once or get a photo of you together. Whenever you were waved over to join him, he attempted to maintain as much space as he could, but you seemed to have set your own rules just to make it harder for him. You took his hand, leant your head on his shoulder, stood so close your leg brushed against his, stroked your hand over his arm, anything and everything you could to be closer to him. Ben wasn’t sure if you really were acting more affectionate (clingy and needy) than normal or if it just felt that way because he was attempting to hold back. He put up with it though, unable to do much besides press on to the next interview without you. The hardest part was when you reached a bank of photographers who wanted a number of photos of the happy couple. Someone called out for him to kiss you and then suddenly the entire crowd was calling for it. He kept it soft and brief, though a part of him regretted not making the final kiss you’d share better.

 After that he was able to escape you for a little, talking to people as everyone gathered in the theatre to watch the movie. He didn’t look at you again until he was on stage with you, introducing the film and saying his words of gratitude and celebration. But even that didn’t last long and then he was able to take his seat and focus his attention on the screen. Watching himself was always a bit of a weird experience. Part enjoying what he’s helped create, part critiquing his performance, and part wondering why it had been edited the way it had been edited. But somehow it was even stranger sitting beside you and watching you play at being in love with him. He recognised expressions, small smiles and looks, that you’d given him on dates during the course of your relationship. Just proof of how fake everything with you was. It left him with a bitter taste in his mouth and an oddly jealous feeling in his gut. And he could feel you looking at him but he stuck to his rules and kept his eyes fixed ahead.

 He turned to his other side afterwards to talk to Alfie, wondering aloud how everyone would react to the movie and laughing about how well it had turned out. Ben couldn’t think what to say to you, knowing the inevitable end was coming. It was closer now that everyone was heading to the after party. So he was grateful when Alfie joined the two of you in your car. “You two ready to party?” He laughed, “Fuck I love that work gives me such a good excuse to get plastered.” Ben laughed along but he was stuck by the realisation that of course there’d be drinking. He’d have to watch how much he had, especially around you. He didn’t want to say something he’d regret or not be able to explain himself properly. “I think shots are in order to get us started. Meet you both by the bar?” “Sounds like a plan Al,” “I’m making yours a double Jones. We’ll have him dancing on the table by the end of the night, right Y/N?” “Oh I’d love to see that.” Cameras flashed as the small group got out of the car. Alfie headed off down the line, catching up with one of the others, leaving Ben and you on your own. Ben felt you press into his side, hanging off his arm, and thought about what waited in the club. Alfie with shots followed by champagne and cocktails and whatever else would be pressed on him during the night. He didn’t want to blurt it out or let it slip in front of other people. He had to tell you before he’d had anything to drink, just in case. It was now. It had to happen now.

 As soon as he was inside, Ben looked around for somewhere he could have a quiet word with you, somewhere no one was likely to overhear. A nearby mirrored hallways seemed the perfect place. Everyone else was busy heading into the main room and it was out of view of the photographers still hanging around outside, waiting for the stragglers to show up. “Can I speak to you over hear a sec?” he lead you around the corner, looking around to double check for eavesdroppers, “So, there’s something I need to…Y/N?” he realised you hadn’t been paying attention, probably keen to get inside and celebrate. “Yeah, sorry, Um…” Ben didn’t hear what you said next, too busy trying to remember everything he wanted to tell you, “I was going to hold off until later but I don’t want to let something slip after a few drinks or anything like that. I can’t do this anymore. This whole thing was a mistake that I should never have agreed to and I need it to be over now.” He could see how confused you were, “You know they’re going to break us up in like a week, right?” “Yeah well, that’s too long to wait. I’m breaking us up now.” He kept talking, sure the shock of it would wear off and you’d agree with him once you’d heard it all, “And…I don’t think I can see you again, not for a while at least. I need some space to forget this ever happened. I, um, I start my new job in a few days so I think they’ll probably use that in the magazines to explain our breakup. And I don’t expect I’ll see you until after it’s finished. If then. So…good luck with that witch movie. Take care of yourself.” He didn’t want to hear you agree with him, didn’t want to hear you say it was for the best or that you were going to suggest the same thing or even a goodbye. So he pushed past you and followed the noise until he found the bar. As promised Alfie was there, with a few others, a shot glass in each hand. He handed one to Ben. “Where’d Y/N go?” “Oh, uh, loo. She’ll be here in a minute.” “Well here’s to a job well done and hopefully some fucking record breaking box office numbers,” “Cheers to that,” Ben clinked his glass against Alfie’s and downed the shot, hissing a little, “another?” “Read my mind,” Ben lost himself in conversation and drinks, chatting with those around him for a while before moving on to talk to more people. Beer in hand, he headed towards the side of the room where a couple of the other main cast were sitting. Claudia looked up as he approached, “Heya Ben! Where’s Y/N? I haven’t seen her all night,” It was only then that Ben realised he hadn’t seen you come in after he’d left you in the hallway. He glanced around in an attempt to spot you, a pang of worry shooting through him but then he stopped looking. She’s not yours to worry about anymore.

                                                      ***

Ben woke up with a minor hangover the day after the premiere. Maybe it was karma. Despite what he told himself, he’d kept an eye out for you all night, but never saw you and he was more than a little worried that it was because of what he’d said. It was tempting to call and ask where you’d gotten to but a quick glance at the clock told him you’d likely still be asleep anyway. Besides, he knew he shouldn’t. He’d told you he wasn’t going to see you again and he intended to stick to his word. Instead he sent a group message to his mates and invited them around for one last hang out before he left for Spain. The next call he made was to his mum. “Hi honey. How’d the premiere go? “It was really fun, movie looks good.” “How long before you fly out?” “Couple of days,” “Shame there’s not enough time for you and Y/N to come over for dinner,” “Yeah, um, about that… we broke up.” “What? Why?” “It just wasn’t working. Mutual decision, we both felt it had run its course but decided to keep it quiet until after the premiere. So, yeah, no dinner, even if I was going to be in the country.” “Oh, honey, are you okay?” “Yeah, fine. Like I said, we both knew it was coming so y’know, no hard feelings or anything.” “It’s a shame, she was so lovely,” “Yeah, well, sometimes things just don’t work the way you think they will.”

The boys arrived in the afternoon, bringing a mixture of snacks and a few beers with them. They settled in the living room to play video games. Ben liked the company. It was a good distraction. Or it would have been if talk hadn’t turned to you. “Bit surprised you wanted us here and not Y/N. Figured you’d spend your last days in the UK with her,” “Why would I when we broke up?” “You what? When?” Ben shrugged, “We broke up. Few days ago,” “Jesus man, I’m sorry,” “Don’t be, it’s fine. I dumped her.” “Yeah but you had to go to the premiere with her right? That’s rough,” “Was a bit but there was an open bar so I coped,” Ben laughed. “Might be time we got him back on the market then,” “What? We only broke up a couple of days ago,” “You’re clearly not too cut up about it,” “What the fuck would you know, you’ve been single for what is it, three years now?” “Well you didn’t tell us when it happened, and you never even told us when you got together. We found out through a magazine, so obviously you weren’t really that serious about her” “We were waiting until after all the movie stuff was done, and that’s bollocks.” “Excuses. Besides, getting someone new to suck you off is the best way to forget an ex. This is your phone right?” “Oi give that back,” There was a scuffle as Ben tried to grab his phone back but he was outnumbered and pinned down as the boys redownloaded his Bumble app and signed in for him, laughing about how he used the same password for everything. “She’s fit, give her a like,” “Oh I like her, might be a bit tall for you though Ben,” Ben rolled his eyes as he watched them swipe on profile after profile until they heard a noise that meant one of the girls had sent him a message. “There you go Ben, didn’t take long did it. You’ll forget all about that Y/N chick in no time,” Ben snatched his phone back, “You guys are such wankers,” “That’s not very nice considering we’ve just got you a new girl,” There was laughter and more teasing as controllers were passed around and the game was loaded. Ben closed the app, thumb hovering over it to delete it again. But maybe they were right. Maybe someone new would be good. He set the phone down again and turned his attention to the game.

                                                      ***

Spain was beautiful and having a new movie to work on was the perfect distraction, especially considering how many stunts, fight scenes, and action sequences were involved. It gave him a chance to meet more people in the industry, people he was excited to work with, and really focus on something other than you. The cast went out together frequently too, dinners at local restaurants, drinks in the hotel bar, getting lost in an unfamiliar city. There was no trace of you there, no reminders of date nights, nothing but work and a new country to explore. Occasionally he’d get a notification that a reporter or curious individual was trying to message him, asking questions about you and the split but he ignored them. Ben deleted the Bumble app too within the first few days, knowing he wouldn’t use it. There was no time, even if he’d wanted to hook up with anyone. He could always reinstall it once he was back home. Once he knew you were in the past. Because the problem was that at some point every night, Ben would get back to his hotel suite and be left alone again. For a while he’d be able to think about what scenes would be filmed the next day, maybe practice some fight choreography. But eventually he’d run out of distractions and then all that was left to think about was you. Peter had sent through the first articles that reported the breakup and since then he’d found himself wondering if you’d moved on yet, found someone else to date now that you were allowed to. He’d considered checking your Instagram account but had held off, knowing it was a step in the wrong direction. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know anyway. He hadn’t gotten over you enough yet to deal with photos of you and another man together.

 This night was much the same as the others had been. Everyone met up for dinner, followed by a couple of drinks and then headed back to the hotel to unwind. Ben decided to call it an early night. He’d spent a good part of the day hooked up to harnesses and wires, being flung at a wall over and over. He was sore and tired figured some extra rest would do him good. He was just settling into bed, trying to keep his mind on the TV show he’d put on when he heard the knock. He listened closely for a moment but it couldn’t be for him, he’d put up a do not disturb sign on his door, so he turned back to the TV and flicked to a different channel. Another knock. It definitely sounded like his door but who would it be? Maybe one of the other actors? But they’d all heard him say he was going to have an early night, so surely not. Again Ben ignored it. The third knock got Ben out of bed, stumbling to the light switch and then the door, ready to politely tell whoever it was to fuck off and let him rest. “Sorry but can you not see the do not dis- Y/N? What ar-” Ben was surprised. Surprised you knew where he was, surprised you’d come there after he’d told you he didn’t want to see you, surprised that you were covering his mouth to shut him up. “You wouldn’t reply to my texts and I didn’t know if you’d listen to any voicemails I left you but I have something I need to tell you so that’s why I’m here.” There was a beat as Ben waited to hear what could be so important that you’d come all the way to Spain to tell him. “I love you.” He gasped but your palm was still over his mouth so he couldn’t say anything. It had to be a joke, didn’t it? But you didn’t look like you were joking. He waited, listening as you explained everything. It was wonderful to know you felt the same but his shock didn’t lessen. He’d been so sure about everything. So sure about how little you’d felt for him, so sure you would have understood why he needed space. And now you were here telling him the exact opposite? It was unfathomable. Maybe it was a hallucination? Maybe he’d got a concussion when he hit the wall too hard earlier. Does concussion make you hallucinate? But blinking didn’t make you disappear and the hand against his mouth felt real enough. “I’ve missed you so much, so fucking much, and all I’ve wanted is to see you again and hear your voice and hug you and I’d really like to date you for real, or at least be friends again because not having you in my life is complete shit.” Ben felt tears prickling his eyes as he realised how backwards he’d had it. You loved him. You. Y/N. You loved him so much you’d flown to Spain just to tell him. “That’s all I had to say,” you said softly, pulling you hand away. Ben staired in disbelief for a moment but you looked as if you were fighting the urge to run for it and it brought him back to his senses. “Thank god,” it was all he could think to say as he reached out to hold you, pulling you tight against him and kissing you the way he’d wanted to kiss you for so long. Relief flooded his system when you kissed back. He didn’t have to forget you or force himself to move on. It had been an impossible task anyway. He was glad to stop trying.

 It’s only when someone makes a noise further down the corridor that he lets you go, asks if you planned to stay, lead you inside and towards the couch. There were things he needed to clear up first, before he could let himself be fully happy with the situation. He looks at you properly then. You look tired, worn out. He’s not sure if it’s from the late hour or the flight or because you’ve not been sleeping properly but it makes him feel guilty that he upset you. He hates that he pushed you away and wasted months trying to get rid of you when you’d both actually wanted the same thing, to be together. But you’re here now. He reached out to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear, almost dizzy with joy that he could do that. “I’m really sorry for how I acted,” You smiled softly as you took a seat and Ben fell into the spot beside you, unable to take his eyes from you. He lets you lead the conversation, trying to sort out his mess of emotions as he explains himself. I thought if I told you I’d never been into you, acted like it, then I could make it true.” “Did it work?” “Of course not,” How could you ever think it would work? That he could just forget you so fast, after he’d fallen for you so hard? “Which is why I pushed you away.” You nodded, seemed to understand where he’d been coming from. He hesitated before reaching out to grab your hand again, a little afraid of touching you lest you turn to smoke and vanish. But you didn’t. He stifled a yawn, hoping you wouldn’t take it as his disinterest in the conversation. He’d stay up as long for as long as it took to go over everything, no matter how tired he was. “Has there been anyone else?” “Anyone else what?” “I saw a thing about you dating again,” That was surprising, not what he’d expected you to bring up. He hadn’t even realised it had been reported on. But he shook his head, explained about his friends encouraging him to move on. It seemed to satisfy you because you leant on his shoulder, let him hold you. He apologised when he yawned again, about to suggest he put a pot of coffee on so he could keep talking. But then you suggested going to bed and he had to agree.

 As soon as his head hit the pillow Ben knew he’d fall asleep fast. Even with the excitement of your arrival and the buzz of joy you brought. He kept his eyes on you. Everything seemed too good to be true. You grabbed his hand and placed it around you, shuffling as close as you could. “You’re actually here, yeah? I’m not just dreaming it?” Ben asked, voicing aloud his biggest worry. “I’m here Ben.” She’s here. In your bed. “Don’t leave, okay?” “I won’t.” She’s here and she’s staying. “I love you,” he needed to say it again, to make sure you knew that he still felt the same. “I love you too,” It was comforting to hear you say it again too, made his heart burst as he kissed you again. He didn’t want to stop but he was much to tired to do anything else. Still, he fought sleep for as long as he could. He’d lost so much time being apart from you that, now he had you back in his arms, sleep felt like a waste of precious hours. Hours he could spend kissing you, being with you, making sure you felt loved. He couldn’t fight it forever though, eventually had to give up. The last thing he saw before he shut his eyes was you, smiling at him, as you lay beside him.

                                                      ***

It had been a long day what with moving you into his house. Even after the boxes were inside and everyone who had been helping out had gone home, there was still a lot to do. Everything needed to be unpacked and put away. Ben had been clearing space on all his shelves and in all his cupboards to fit everything you’d brought with you. Plus there was new furniture from Ikea to unpack and construct. Like the chest of draws he’d been working on before he got up to stretch his legs and grab a glass of water. He caught sight of the magazines that had been left in the kitchen and, chuckling at their stories of marriage and babies, stacked them in a neat pile before he grabbed his drink. As he walked back through the living room he saw you, curled up on the floor beside the box you’d been working through. “Y/N?” Ben shook your shoulder to wake you, trying not to laugh as you blink at him groggily, still half asleep. “Alright, cuddle bunny, up you get. Time for bed, yeah?” “But the boxes,” you argued though it was unenthusiastic and slurred with sleep. “The boxes will be there tomorrow. C’mon, come with me,” Ben half carried you to the bedroom and helped you under the covers, leaving you with a kiss on the forehead before heading back to the draws he was halfway through building.

 By the time he was finished putting the draws together Ben was feeling fairly tired himself. He moved the spare screws off the floor so no one would step on them and then headed back to the bedroom. You were still there, sleeping soundly. Ben paused in the doorway to look at you. It was a sight he loved, you in his bed. The first time you stayed over and slept in his bed rather than the guest room had been a monumental occasion though the novelty of it had worn off a bit now, especially with how frequently you’d stayed at each other’s places before the move. But still, he’d never get sick of seeing you beside him, where you belonged. Same as he’d never get sick of making you tea or trying to convince you to eat an actual breakfast or making you laugh. It was in that moment, leaning against the doorway of the bedroom you now shared, one wall lined with boxes of your belongings yet to be put away, it was then that he knew he wanted to marry you. Have a family with you, spend his life with you. He’d go out and buy a ring once you were moved in properly, though he could hear his friends telling him to wait a little longer, see how everything was living with you first. But that didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have to give it to you straight away after all. But he knew that was what he wanted with you. And now that you were together, after so much time and trouble, he never wanted to let you go.

[onechicagorpf]

Not A Stranger - Part 3

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader (Chicago Med intern)

Waking up in bed next to a random naked guy after a drunken night out usually sucks, but eh, whatever. you’ll never see him again, right? Well except this time, random naked guy turns out to be your ED attending’s little brother, so maybe you’re a little bit screwed…

Read Part 1 here Read Part 2 here Read Part 4 here

Warnings: SMUT. A little bit of R-rated smut! Swearing, the usual cuss words. Some angst/PTSD, although it’s not overtly discussed. Dubious medical content (discussion of amputation & blood), some of which has been shamelessly lifted from a season 3 episode of Code Black!

A/N: So there’s definitely going to be a Part 4, lol! I’ll try and have it out by this time next week. Send me asks/messages/leave a note if you liked this and want to see more - it really makes me feel so much less insecure about my writing ahaha! Also do send me short prompts or requests that I can fill as blurbs (i.e. nothing that’s going to be a several chapter story - I will request those later on!) - preferably for Jay but I can do Will as well! Female!Halstead sibling is also okay :) Anyway enough talking, enjoy!

PS: I make mention of bearded Jay in this chapter; this gif is totally the version of him I had in my head for this chapter!

"Walter Holden. 16 years old, victim of an auto accident, came in with a dislocated right leg."

There's droplets of rain on the other side of the windows. It blurs the view - all of a sudden, the buildings you can usually see from the 13th floor of the hospital are just fuzzy, beige blocks.

"Preliminary exam showed no other major trauma, and his vital signs were strong. His leg just had to be reset."

A shudder goes down your spine - was the hospital's conference room always this cold? Well, you don't know - you've never been in here before.

"Dr Halstead advised 10 mil of morphine, but the patient refused pain medication, and the leg was reset. It was at this point that Dr Halstead handed the patient off to Dr Y/L/N, requesting her to evaluate his leg for blood flow."

There's been a strange tapping noise for the last 5 minutes, but only now do you realise it's your fingers against the oval, wooden table.

"Dr Y/L/N? Dr Y/L/N!" You snap out of your reverie and look up. Dr Lanik's glaring at you. You apologise. He takes his seat, next to Mrs Goodwin and Will, both of whom send you a soft smile that doesn't quite reach their eyes. They're trying to be reassuring, but it doesn't matter - you're ready to drown yourself.

Clearing your throat, you speak. "I was instructed to evaluate his right leg for blood flow. I did so by checking his pulses, uh, dorsalis pedis and posterior tibialis." You pause, as some of the other occupants in the conference room - all members of the board or lawyers, all wearing pristine suits and a cold, calculating expression - turned to look at each other.

You clear your throat again. "It was a uh, a textbook exam."

"I'm sorry, in which textbook does it say to check for an arterial injury by just palpating a pulse?" Dr Lanik cuts in sharp.  Will closes his eyes, as you struggle to breath normally.

"90% of all patients - "

"I can't hear you, Dr Y/L/N." Dr Lanik's voice booms across the room, and Will's had it.

"This is ridiculous, there's no need to be intimidating her like this - she's a first year resident and - "

"And she was satisfied with a pulse check to evaluate blood flow? Do I need to remind everyone here that the acceptable course of action in this scenario is to order a doppler or an ABI? That boy's leg was sitting for ages without proper blood flow, and eventually the best we could do for him was amputate it."

Will shakes his head vehemently. "Pathology's looked over the leg - they determined that the severity of the accident combined with the amount of time it took CFD to extricate Holden from the car meant that his leg wasn't viable before he even stepped into the ED." Will turns to you, his eyes piercing as he spoke directly to you.

"There was nothing you could've done that would've changed the outcome. Nothing."

You take a deep breath. You don't nod.

"Alright, we've heard everything we need to hear." The head of the legal department says, after a few moments of discussion with the board members. "Given the findings from Pathology, we will not be terminating Dr Y/L/N's employment here at Chicago Med. However, we recommend that her OR privileges be revoked, and that she is attached to an attending for a duration of 2 months, by which point hopefully she will learn that not every case is a textbook case." She stares directly at you. "Dismissed." Chairs scrape against the floor as everyone makes their leave.

Will places his hand on your shoulder, and you realise you haven't moved even after everyone's left.

His voice is soft. "We all make mistakes. And - "

"I could've been the reason he lost his leg. If he'd come in with ample time to save the leg, and I just - and I just didn't realise it, I could've been the reason a kid had to lose a leg." There's tears in your eyes as you turn to look at Will, who just sighs.

"Yeah. But that's not what happened."

"I got lucky." You shrug, tears freely streaming down your face now. "I just got lucky."

Will doesn't say anything. He just hugs you.

***

It's not the kind of thing you just get over, you realise, because it's been 5 days since it happened but you can't get it out of your head. You've been barely getting any sleep; often you jerk awake in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning, after which it's next to impossible to fall asleep again. It's also affecting your work more than just making you tired - you keep second-guessing your medical judgements, deferring to Will or Natalie or Ethan for anything and everything. None of them bite at you for it, because they know what's going on and they know what you're going through, but some part of you wishes they would. Wishes that they'd just grab you by the shoulders and shake you, and say "Be a damn doctor."

Dr Charles met with you for lunch earlier today, and you lamented your troubles. The kind and thoughtful psychiatrist patiently listened, before giving you some wisdom you needed to hear. Amongst which was "find a distraction".

"You mean focus on something else?" You asked, chasing a watermelon cube at the bottom of your fruit cup.

"Yeah, but it's a little bit of a dangerous tactic. See, you don't want to distract yourself from dealing with the pain and the guilt you feel, because emotions don't tend to go away when you suppress them like that. But if you're having trouble processing it, it can be helpful to take your mind off of it for a while, wait til some time has passed and it's not so...intense. And maybe then it'll be easier to tackle and get over, y'know?" Dr Charles advised and you nodded, taking it in.

You think about what exactly you could do to distract yourself as you finish your shift and make your way towards your car in the parking lot.

Maybe I should take up painting?

The thought of yourself - little miss notoriously bad at anything artsy - trying to paint has you chuckling softly. You're about to give up on this whole distract yourself thing when, as if on cue, your phone buzzes with a text message. You get into your car, turn on the heating, and pull out your phone.

J.H. 11:32PM

So...guess who's back :)

You can't help the smile on your face. Jay's been undercover for the past week - it actually got started the next morning after the night you went over for "hockey". He'd gotten a text early in the morning asking him to come in, and so the two of you had actually barely spoken since...the festivities of that night.

You 11:33PM

Congrats, detective :)

J.H. 11:33PM

Wanna come over and help me celebrate?

Huh. Well maybe Dr Charles wasn't off-target with the whole "distract yourself" thing - although you're positive having meaningless sex is probably not one of the healthy methods of distraction that he was envisioning.

But quickly, you realise it doesn't matter - ever since what happened, you haven't been sleeping well at night. It's been close to 6 days and you're wrecked, so maybe some good, tires-you-out-completely sex is exactly what you need?

You 11:34PM

Be there in 15

 J.H. 11:34PM

Can't wait :)

 Your lips curve into a smile as you pull out of the parking lot and down into the main road.

***

"I've been waiting to do this...for so long..." Jay murmurs in your ear before pressing kisses down the side of your neck, his hands roaming all over your body. You tilt your head to the side, exposing the expanse of your neck to him.

“It’s only been…a couple ‘a days…” You reply softly, and you feel Jay’s huffs of soft laughter into your neck. You turn to look at him, pulling away. “What?”

There’s a teasing smile on his face. “Most women take it as a compliment if a guy says he hasn’t stopped thinking about her.”

You shake you head, putting on a teasing look, “Uh-uh, that’s not what you said, you said you’ve been wanting to do this – ”

“It was implied – ”

“It wasn’t implied and even if it was – ”

“It was implied and even if it wasn’t, that’s still a compliment.” Jay says pointedly, a huge grin on his face. You narrow your eyes at him, trying to hide the growing smile on your face. He chuckles, seeing right through you.

You smack his arm. “You keep laughing at me in bed and I’m gonna get mad.” This gets Jay full-on laughing, and your jaw drops in pretend-outrage. “You fucking – ”

“No, no, no c’mere – ” Jay pacifies you, leaning over you, arms on either side of you as he starts to kiss your face, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. But there’s still the slightest smile pulling up the corners of his lips, and when he presses them to your lips, you can’t help but laugh into the kiss. Jay reaches up and holds your face, the kiss becoming soft, loving, drawn-out, and some feeling deep in your core tells you you’re just…somewhere else right now. You don’t know how to describe it, other than that everything in this moment feels perfect, feels right.

A shiver goes down your spine, and maybe it’s because Jay’s shifted, and is now sucking a spot on the base of your neck, hard and strong and deep, and his hands are skimming downwards, unbuttoning your soft cotton top before unzipping your jeans. And maybe it’s because you don’t know what the fuck you are doing here, with him, with all of this. You think about how wrong this is, how bad this is, how his brother’s your boss and this was just supposed to be one drunken hookup and then it became two (except you weren’t even drunk that time) and now it’s about to become three –

“Y/N?” Jay calls softly, and you look at him – his hands resting gently over the hem of your panties, his face hovering over the space between your legs, and the look of…almost reverence in his shining green eyes.

You stop thinking.

Your hands reach downward, sliding your panties off and Jay eagerly helps, getting them off completely. Just like last time, Jay draws out the foreplay – kissing, licking, and nipping at the skin of your inner thighs, making the heat in your core build. Running your fingers through his dark hair, you yank it a little to get him to get going, and he pinches your hip – a quick slap of the wrist. Laughing, you repeat the action, pulling on his hair, and he groans.

“You’re real impatient, you know?”

“Jayyyyyyyy,” You whine, pouting down at him. He’s got this look of a predator – a confident, cocky smile on his face. Jay dips his head down, his mouth making contact with your cunt.

“There we go,” You murmur, gasping as you feel his hot breath on your most sensitive regions. Jay’s hands grip tight into your supple skin, holding your thighs open for him as his tongue circles your opening. Your back arcs as you moan, the sensation of his tongue on you setting off what feels like fireworks in your head. Jay’s mouth presses into you, hard and deep, his tongue licking and lapping at your now sopping wet cunt.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck – ” You whisper, eyelids fluttering shut as Jay softly flicks his tongue over your clit. He repeats the motion, going up and down, teasing your clit and your hip jerks upwards sharply in response. Settling your ass back down against his soft sheets, you catch your breath and mutter a soft apology – “Shit, sorry,” – and Jay taps your thigh, a silent “don’t worry about it”, as he’s nosed his way back between your legs immediately.

Jay laps at your folds and you try to keep your head about you, try to not lose your mind, but it just feels so good. He sucks your clit into his mouth gently and your eyes roll into the back of your head. “Oh my god, ohhh my god – fuck!” You whimper, as he keeps sucking your clit, pausing to flick his tongue over it. Your fingers clutch the sheets around you hard enough to rip holes in them. The loud moans out of your mouth are bordering on screams. The feeling in your core, the heat, starts rising like a wave reaching a shore –

“I’m gonna – I’m gonna – I’m gonna – ah, ah, ahhhh – fuck! Fuck, fuck – Jay! Jay!” You scream, your vision whiting out completely as you arch off the bed, riding out the waves of pleasure wrecking your body. You hands fly downwards to grab Jay’s head as you jerk away from his still-working mouth, your oversensitive clit causing tears to pool in your eyes. Pulling him up, you whisper his name over and over again, like he’s the only gospel you know. Jay shifts up, laying down next to you and pulling you close, your bodies fitting into each other like a perfect pair of puzzle pieces. You look at him through your teary eyes and all you see are his green irises staring right back at you with a measure of something dark and lustful in them. You hold his face in your hands, running a thumb over the rough stubble of his cheeks, his jaw, where a soft beard has started to grow. His lips are glossy and wet, from you, and you see now there’s a soft pink line going across his nose that you trace with your hands, frowning.

“I’m okay,” Jay says in a soothing voice.

“What happened?” You ask, concerned, the frown between your eyebrows deepening as you look up at him.

A soft smile. “Kinda got into a fight. Guy tried to punch me, I dodged it, but his fingernail scratched me. It’s fine.” Jay replies quickly, and his face is so close to yours that you’re breathing the same air. You don’t say anything, but you must still be frowning because Jay speaks again. “It’s literally just a scratch.” You hum softly in response, running your hands down his front, unbuttoning his shirt, scanning the expanse of his chest and abdomen with your fingertips and your eyes.

Jay lifts your chin and you turn back to him. “What?”

“Are you checking me for other injuries?” He asks, chuckling. You look back down, pausing for a moment. “Maybe…it’s not like you’d tell me if you got hurt, right?” Jay just laughs, and there’s your answer. You ignore the burgeoning feelings in your heart of some kind of dejection.

Your fingers run over a sliver of raised skin, on his lower right flank. It’s a thin, pale pink scar that runs about 3 inches. You work in an ED – you know exactly what this is.

“You were stabbed?” You ask, stunned. “When?”

Jay sighs, grabbing your fingers in his hand and holding them closed. “Army stuff. Not a big deal.” He pushes your fingers away to your own body, and then reaches for the blanket and pulls it up over the two of you, like as if the conversation’s over.

“You don’t want to talk about the Army,” you point out, as Jay lays on his back, some distance between the two of you. He sighs again, looking upwards at the ceiling. “Is that a question or a statement?”

You know you shouldn’t push, but you do anyway.

“You should talk to someone about it  – ”

“I talk to people about it. I have.” Jay’s voice is tight. He’s still not looking at you.

“You can talk to me about it...” You say, and you’re terrified. Because what you’re really asking is “Do you think I’m close enough, do you care about me enough to let me in?”.

Jay turns to you, a soft smile on his face. “It’s fine. I’ve got other people for that.”

Hiding the immense desolation that’s weighing like an anchor on your chest from showing, you just send a shallow smile his way. 

He’s got other people for that. He’s got other people for sharing his feelings, his pain, his suffering, his life. He doesn’t want you for that, I mean, why would he share all of that with you? You’re just a warm body – some random girl he’s having sex with. Nothing more.

You pull the blankets tighter around you, turning away from Jay. Trying your best to quell the wave of sadness flooding what feels like every single part of you, you drift asleep. 

***

“Dr Y/N?”

You turn, and there’s Walter Holden on a bed in the ED.

“Walter?” You walk to his side, stunned. He’s crying – tears spilling out of his soft baby blue eyes, his youthful face scrunched up in pain and anguish.

“Why did you do this to me? Why?!” He yells, his voice cracking. You shake your head. “Walter, Walter I’m so sorry – I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I didn’t mean to – ” You choke on your words, and as you look down the bed you realise that Walter’s amputated leg is bleeding at the stump.

“Oh god, oh my god – ” You get up, shocked as the blood starts gushing. Walter screams.

“Help me! Dr Y/N – help me! Help me!”

You hear your heart hammering in your ears, your head is spinning, you stand up and you feel faint.

Will rushes into the room. He starts holding as much gauze as he can to Walter’s leg. Nurses and doctors flood the room, and they begin moving Walter out. You’re standing, back pressed to the treatment room wall, aghast. 

Will turns to you, his face red with rage. “What are you even doing?! Fucking hell, Y/N – you can’t do anything right?!”

There’s a painful lump in your throat, and you can’t breathe. Something grabs your hand and you snap your head. It’s Walter, and as they wheel his bed out, he looks at you with so much fury and torment in his eyes.

“YOU DON’T DESERVE TO BE A DOCTOR!”

“No, no, no, I’m so sorry Walter, I’m so sorry – I’m so sorry – this can’t be happening, no, no no no – ” Tears stream down your face and you start shaking. Your knees buckle, and you fall to the ground, sobs wracking your body. Somewhere in the distance, you hear your name being called, but you can’t answer, you can’t do this anymore, you can’t – you just can’t…

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You jolt, your eyes flying open. Jay’s over you, his eyebrows drawn together, his eyes wide, concerned, his hands holding your shoulders where you realise he’s been shaking you – shaking you because – because –

Fuck.

It was a fucking nightmare. Again.

You let out a cry of pain, bringing your hands up to cover your face. “Breathe, just breathe.” Jay says softly, rubbing your arms up and down.

After about a minute, when you don’t feel so shaken anymore, you wipe your eyes and slowly sit up. Jay shifts with you, sitting right next to you. You can’t look him in the eyes.

“I’m – I’m sorry I woke you,” you whisper to your palms, resting atop your folded legs.

“Don’t – don’t worry about that. Y/N, what happened? It sounded pretty bad…” Jay says and you shake your head.

“I’m fine, it’s fine – ” Your hands run through your hair roughly. You need to go. You need to go – you need to leave – you can’t be here –you can’t be here with him –

“Hey. Hey,” Jay repeats, when you don’t answer. He reaches across and his warm hard gently grabs your face, trying to get you to look at him but you just push his hand away. You get up, grabbing your underwear and jeans from the ground and start getting dressed.

“Y/N!” Jay gets off the bed, and comes to you. You sidestep him, or at least you try to, but he’s much taller than you and his shoulders are broad; he stands in your way and grabs your arms softly.

“Y/N, look at me – ”

“Why?” 

You give him what he wants. You look up at him, you stare him directly in his eyes, shaking in anger and fear and what feels like the weight of the world on your shoulders. 

“Hmm? Why? This isn’t – you don’t care – what does it matter –” You yell at him, your mind frazzled as you fall apart in his arms.

The frown on Jay’s face gets deeper, and he shakes his head, leaning close. “Hey, talk to me. C’mon, you can talk to me – ”

“Why the fuck would I talk to you? You’re just some guy I’m sleeping with!” You spit harshly, shaking his hands off and stepping back. Jay’s mouth falls open, and his shoulders sag. His face contorts into something awful - dismay, defeat, hurt.

For a moment, you want to run back into his arms – apologise, say you didn’t mean it, say you’re just scared – but you don’t. You move around him, grabbing your shirt. You put it on and make your way out of his bedroom, and out of his apartment.

You don’t know why you said what you did. Actually, scratch that, you know exactly why you said that. In fact, you know exactly why you’re what you’re doing.

Every relationship you’ve ever had up to this point’s fucked you over. Every single one. You’ve been cheated on, you’ve been lied to, you’ve been told you were just some piece of ass, not an actual girlfriend. And now?

Now you’re scared shitless of what this thing between the two of you is. You’re scared shitless that you’re making a mistake by screwing around with your boss’s brother and you’re –

Well.

You’re scared shitless you’re falling for him.

So, you do what you do best. Dump out of this, push the self-destruct button. Get him to push you away so you don’t have to go through the pain of falling for the guy you can’t have. The one that you know’s going to screw you over, because he’s going to realise he only really sees you as a hookup – that he doesn’t love you.

You try to hold back the tears, because you’re driving home and the last thing you need right now is a car accident. There’s a buzzing sound from your phone and you perk up. As much as you want to tell yourself to not get your hopes high, you can’t help yourself, and you speed down the road to the red light so you can push the brakes and wait. Your fingers wrap around your phone and you immediately check the screen. 

The smile on your face falls – it’s just a stupid notification from Instagram. You toss your phone back onto the passenger seat, hard enough that it bounces off and hits the ground. Tears once again threaten to fill your eyes, and there’s a painful lump in your throat. You swipe at your cheeks, where a single tear has made its escape, and turn to look at the screen next to your steering wheel – it shows the time as 3:45AM. Leaning back against your car seat, a deep sigh exits your lungs.

You realise there’s no way you’re going to sleep again today, what with the whole Jay thing on top of the Walter Holden nightmare that’s been haunting you for the last 6 days now.

The lights turn green.

Swearing under your breath, you throw your car into a U-turn and drive to Med instead.

[jayjaydawn]

hide-n-seek

Summary: Where the members find out about your secret relationship

Pairing: Soonyoung/Hoshi x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Language, implied smut

Words: 1.5k

A/N: Sorry for the typos, I hope you like this regardless.

“There are no secrets that time does not reveal.”

Soonyoung and you were sitting on your couch, your leg stretched out on his lap, him scrolling through his phone. The tv was on, you were focused on watching the k-drama, the main leads were just about to kiss when- “Ya! ____, Why aren’t you picking up your calls? Your mother is worried, she’s messaging me” Soonyoung says as he pushes my arm.

“Hossshhhh, you made me miss out on the most crucial scene ever, I can't even rewind it because it's on tv!”  “If you’ve missed it anyway, might as well call your mom and let her know you’re alive.” 

“Ughh! Fine, I'm calling her. I left my phone in my room.” you said as you forced yourself out of your comfortable position. As soon as you stood up, you felt soonyoung smack your ass, making you turn around and glare at him as you walked away. You could hear him snickering as you left. 

At the same time, Soonyoung received a call from Seokmin.

“Hello” “Hyung, where are you? When will you be back at the dorm, we’re ordering food, what should we order for you?” “Uhhmmm, i’ll let you know in 5 mins? I don’t really know when i’ll get back” he said and looked up as he saw you coming back from your room, phone in your hand. You gesture at him, ‘who is it?’ “Okay hyung, call me back as soon as possible, the restaurant doesn’t take orders past 10pm” “Yuppp, bye seokmin”

“Ooooh why did he call? Did something happen?” you ask him as you try to make yourself comfortable again on the couch. 

“Nothing, he was asking when i’ll be back, they’re ordering take out”

“Oh, I think you should get back tonight, you haven't been back on time this past week, they might get suspicious”

“Hmm, i’ll text him and let him know i’ll reach in a bit”

"Cool" you replied and looked back at the tv as he texted Seokmin to let him know he'd be reaching in sometime. 

Hoshi and you had been in a 'secret' relationship for the past two years. It wasn't that much of a secret really, both of your families knew about your relationship and you all had interacted on many occasions. Often his mother would contact you and the same goes for him. But due to personal reasons, you both decided to keep it a secret from his team members. One of the reasons being management, they didn't really approve of your relationship and when they figured it was quite serious, they made sure we kept it as private and secret as possible. Also between the two of us, we liked the thrill that came with the hide-n-seek. 

"Okay ___, I'm leaving, my phone is blowing up with messages" Soonyoung brought me out of my thoughts, as he gently pushed my legs off of his lap. 

You cutely put your hands out towards him and made grabby hands at him. He chuckled as he leaned down to hug you and kissed you deeply. "Mmm, okay now you really need to go before I don't let you" you said as you pulled away. He laughed and you both finally said bye, for real this time and he left. 

°°°

Soonyoung made it back to the dorm in record time. 

"He's finally here" Chan announces from the table when he notices Soonyoung is back.

"Sorry, I'm a little late." He said as he sat in his spot on the table. The rest of the members came in and began eating. 

"Okay so we'll be starting practice a little late tomorrow so it'll probably end a little late too. Just warning you guys." Seungcheol said casually while eating. 

Everyone acknowledged what he said and went back to eating. Soonyoung finished his dinner and got up to leave when Joshua asked him, “Hey hoshi, can I borrow your phone for a minute. I’ll give it back to you in your room.” “Okay” he says as he hands him the phone and leaves. 

Joshua’s phone camera had stopped working this morning. He needed to send himself some photos of documents he had. He took hoshi’s phone and opened his gallery to send himself the photos when he came across something that surprised him. There were pictures of him with a girl that he didn’t know. As he was staring at it, trying to recall if he had ever seen her, he felt someone leaning over his shoulder looking into the same screen he was. “Who is that with hyung? She’s so pretty.” Hearing Seungkwan say this, Seokmin and Mingyu rushed towards Joshua to get a glance too. Joshua hurriedly turned off the phone and stood up, “Don’t mention this in front of Soonyoung. You know him, he might get mad. I’m going to return the phone to him, I don’t want a single word coming out of your mouths. Understand?” 

The younger ones nodded their heads and looked at each other excitedly. Joshua headed back to his room and returned the phone to hoshi on the way.

°°°

 “Okayy guys, let’s take a water break.” Soonyoung announced to the rest of the group. They all stopped, panting and making their way towards their water bottles. Soonyoung sat down as he downed his bottle when he heard his phone ringing. 

____ Calling..

____ never calls in the middle of practice. He had made sure to tell her he wouldn’t be coming over today due to practice. Worried, he picked up his phone and rushed out of the studio to answer the call.

He heard your sleepy voice on the other line asking, “Why aren’t you here yet? I’ve been waiting.” “Baby, I told you I wouldn’t be able to make it today. Have you not slept yet?” “Oh yah. I completely forgot. I fell asleep watching Tv and woke up suddenly and I guess I just felt sort of disoriented. Sorry to disturb you.” “It’s okay, go to sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Byeee” 

He hung up the phone and went back into the studio. The rest of the members were sitting and seemed to be in a deep conversation with each other. 

“What’s going on here?”

“Oh nothing, just discussing that pretty girl whose pictures you had on your phone.” 

“SEUNGKWAN! WHAT THE HELL!” Seokmin yelled as he smacked him on the back of his head. Seungkwan’s eyes grew big as he realised what he had said aloud. 

“OH NO! FORGET WHAT I SAID.” Everyone sighed and looked at Hoshi, expecting him to blow up.

“Let’s get back to work now.” Soonyoung said gently and everyone hurried back to their positions, slightly surprised that he didn’t react they way they had expected.

°°°

“Hello baby, what’s up?” You answered the phone. “___ why don’t you come over to the dorm today. The members have all gone out to do their own stuff.” “Oh really? It’s been a while since I’ve been over. Okay, I’ll see you in a bit. Byee” You hung up the phone and got ready to leave.

°°°

You were lying on Soonyoung’s chest as he played with your hair. You looked up at him and rested your chin on him as you asked, “Are you hungry? I’m starving. Let’s order some food?” 

“Sure” As soon as he said that you turned to the other side and put on his T-shirt. You got up and rushed out to call the restaurant as he followed while simultaneously pulling on his boxers. 

Once, takeout arrived, you both started gobbling up the food. “Sex really does make you hungry ___” Soonyoung laughs. “Shut up will you? When are the members coming back? I’ll have to leave before that” 

“They texted me and said they’ll take longer.” He said and picked you up, making you straddle him. You looked at each other and slowly kissed. The kiss soon turned hungrier and sloppy when you heard a bunch of footsteps walking towards you both. 

You suddenly stopped, shocked and tried to get off his lap as fast as you could. Soonyoung’s grip grew tighter as he forced you to stop moving.

You turned and looked at all the members staring at you absolutely gobsmacked.

“What the fuck did I just see?”Minghao says.

“Aren’t you the girl who we saw on his phone. OH MY GOD ARE YOU GUYS SEEING THIS??” Seungkwan screamed.

“Okay, I guess it's finally time to çome out and just say it. Im sorry ___ I didn’t tell you first before taking this decision” He put you aside and stood up, pulling you towards him by the waist.

“Guys meet ___, ___ meet the guys. We’ve been dating for two years and that’s it”

The guys and you looked at each other with eyes wider than the sun.

“Uhmm Hi” You gave them the most awkward wave.

“Hi- Sorry for interruping your- uhh whatever that you-- uh- were doing” Dino said

“Okay, we are done for today, let’s talk about this over dinner. Shoo Shoo.” Jeonghan said and everyone moved away, whispering to each other.

Soonyoung and you looked at each other, “Playtimes over I guess” you giggle as you peck his lips and move to finish your dinner and get to know his friends for the first time. 

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Stab Me In The Front

Part 1: America’s Asshole

Intro: It’s been a year since Katie was held hostage by Hydra, and whilst she’s still working through her feelings she has an idea about how she can make other people’s lives better as a result of her ordeal. Alongside this, she needs to take a trip to Boston to meet Harlan Thrombey-SIP’s latest author. Slightly nervous about taking a business trip alone after what happened last time, Steve offers to go with her.

What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Bad language. SMUT (NSWFW)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So, here we go. This was a request/idea from @icanfeelastormbrewing​ for an Avengers/Knives Out Cross Over where Katie and Steve come face to face with America’s Asshole! The tongues are sharp and the knives are out! This is set in 2015 so way before the KO storyline so therefore contains no spoilers!

Oh, @angrybirdcr​ I bloody love this edit and banner- the edit you have named the Ransom pre- Steve-Rogers-fucked-my-face-after-I-called-his-wife-a-hoe edit...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

October 2015

 “So, Mr Thrombey, that’s all confirmed.” Katie tapped at a key on her computer to lock the meeting in her calendar. “11 am, Next Thursday, the 15th ”

“I’ll send you through the zip code and location for your GPS.” Harlan responded “The house is just outside of Lincoln, not far from Pierce Park. It shouldn’t be too far for you if you’re staying at the Harbor.”

“Thank you.” Katie smiled as she spoke into her phone.“I look forward to meeting you on Thursday Sir.”

“Oh, less of the Sir, Harlan please. And the pleasure is all mine Miss Stark, I mean, Mrs Rogers, my apologies!” The man chuckled. “And thank you for accommodating my need to pull this meeting forward by a few days.”

“It’s not a problem.” She assured him. They exchanged pleasantries again and then she cut the call and leaned back in her chair, cracking her neck, before she double checked the travel arrangements. The hotel was booked, flight was sorted, hire care was confirmed. All that she needed to do was not forget the annotated manuscript or the cover ideas.

The door to her office opened and she looked up to see Tony leaning in the doorway, waving a Starbucks cup at her, along with one of their familiar brown paper bags, clearly bearing treats.

“I love you, bro!” She smiled at him as he wandered in, chuckling, placing the drink and paper bag down in front of her. She looked into the bag and gave a moan when she saw it was a rather large, gooey looking brownie, and gave a bigger moan when she sipped her drink and found it to be a Pumpkin Spiced Latte. “Perfect Elevenses!”

“Well thought you might need one, you’ve been locked in here since seven this morning…”

“You got FRIDAY spying on me?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“No.” He denied, but at the same time the AI affirmed her suspicions.

“He has indeed had me watch you, Mrs Rogers.” “Traitor.” Tony rolled his eyes and Katie chuckled

“Well I had all this Harlan Thrombey stuff to sort, Steve’s still in Copenhagen with Sam chasing the alleged latest sighing of Bucky.” She shrugged “Not much point in lying in when you’re wide awake is there?”

“True.” Tony nodded. “Are you going back to the Compound tonight?”

“I might just stay here again if that’s ok?”

“Kiddo, you own part of this Tower, it’s always gonna be your home too.” Tony shrugged, “You can stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks Tone.” she smiled. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt safer in the Tower whilst Steve was away, even thought it was ridiculous as the Compound was just as secure, being closer to her brother was a comfort.

“I haven’t forgotten what tomorrow is.” Tony looked at her.

Neither had she. It was a year to the day since Bucky had pulled her out of that shithole in Canada and rescued her from her ordeal at the hands of HYDRA. With a little sigh, Katie pulled off her glasses, a lasting consequence of her period of capture and torture. Ever since spending six weeks in that constantly lit cell she’d needed glasses for anything that required a long period of concentration on a computer screen or monitor if she wanted to avoid migraines. Bruce seemed to think it was something to do with the fact that her cell had been painfully bright all the time and that continued exposure to artificial light in such a way triggered a subconscious response. 

She ran a hand over her face and looked at her brother, swallowing down the sudden spike of emotion, and  swallowed.“I’ve been trying not to think about it.” she said gently.

“Which is why I booked you and Pepper into the Dominick for the afternoon.” Tony smiled at her, reaching over to take her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Well, Pepper has, I’ve just given her the credit card. Apparently you’re in for a full deep tissue massage, facial and then Franco’s booked to do your hair, oh and don’t bother telling me you’re busy as I had your diary cleared and everything reschedule to next week” He sat back, watching as she opened her mouth before shutting it, shaking her head softly. “You leave in thirty minutes.”

“You spoil me.” She smiled softly. 

“Anything for my girls, plus I thought it might keep you busy whilst Spangles is otherwise engaged.”

“He was hoping to be back but when I spoke to him before he doesn’t know if he’s gonna be.” she shrugged. “It is what it is.” Tony smiled at her before he stood up “Yes, it is. And this afternoon is your pamper time so get your shit together and meet Pepper downstairs.”

“Yes sir.” she said, saluting him with a grin.  

****

As with anything Pepper or Tony booked, the spa was off the scale. Katie had been meaning to go for ages, and now, as she sat in the chair in Franco’s salon she was already searching available dates to go back. She laughed and joked with the stylist and Pepper, the pair of them enjoying yet another bottle of champagne as they had their hair done. A couple of hours later, at just gone seven, Pepper dragged her out over the road and into a ridiculously expensive wine bar.

“Feeling better?” Pepper asked as Katie took a huge gulp of her Sancerre.

Katie smiled. “Much, thank you.” “You know, I’m always here if you want to talk to someone other than Steve about stuff.” Pepper looked at her “And it won’t go any further.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t wanna talk about it.” Katie sighed “You know, Pep, I see all these women out there that went through…well, you know, and I read their testimonies and I just wonder how they’re so strong, like, how can they can just stand up and talk about it?” She trailed off, shaking her head “And me? I just wanna pretend it never happened. So much for being an Avenger huh?”

“Hey.” Pepper shook her head, looking at her sternly. “Stop that, right now.” “Well it’s true.” Katie shrugged. “I mean, I’m a public figure right? But all people know is I was missing for weeks, and it was put down to a mission gone awry. I just, well, I feel like I should be out there, trying to make a difference, helping people.”

“Kiddo, what you went through,” Pepper swallowed, “I can’t even begin to imagine. And how you’ve dealt with and processed it, well, frankly I don’t know how you’ve been so strong. There is no shame in wanting to simply move on and leave it in the past.”

“I know.” Katie sniffed a little. “Thank you. Having everyone around me makes me realise how lucky I actually am. I’ve got a huge support network. Not everyone who goes through…well, not everyone has that to fall back on.” Pepper pondered something before she looked at Katie, “You know, we haven’t picked our Partner Charity for the Stark Relief Fund next year. We could make it one that deals with Sexual violence. No need to go into details as to why.” Katie considered that for a moment, before she nodded. “That’s not a bad idea.” She clicked her deep purple manicured nails against her wine glass, thoughtfully. “It would make a difference, right?”

Pepper nodded. “Absolutely. Give it some thought, see how you feel.” “I will, thanks.” she smiled. 

****

Steve was exhausted but wasn’t willing to spend another moment away from his wife. So the moment the jet was down he headed straight for the garage, jumped on his bike and roared out of the compound heading down town towards Manhattan.

“Good Evening Captain Rogers.” FRIDAY greeted him as he pressed his palm to the access pad at the rear entrance from the underground car park “Mrs Rogers is in your apartment.”

“Thanks FRIDAY.” he said, as the elevator began to rise. It stopped a few floors up, and when the doors flew open he was greeted by Tony who was undoing his tie.

“Oh, you’re back.” He looked at Steve appraisingly.

“You’re up late.” Steve remarked in response.

“Just working on a few things.” Tony said vaguely. “How was the search for Tin Man?” “Well, it was him alright.” Steve ran a hand down his tired face. “Few more leads to work on. We could have stayed out there for a bit longer truth be told but, well, I wanted to be here tomorrow, you know.”

The two men shared a moment of understanding, both of them having experienced unsurmountable raw pain and anguish over the weeks Katie had been missing and it wasn’t something they were likely to forget any time soon. If ever.

“She know you’re home?” Tony looked at him again. Steve shook his head.

“Wanted to surprise her.”

Tony smiled softly. “She’s probably asleep.  Her and Pep have been in the Spa all afternoon and they’ve drunk a lot so…”

Steve gave a huff of a laugh. “Yeah she messaged me before saying you’d sent her there out for the afternoon. From the spelling mistakes in the text I figured there was a fair amount of alcohol that had been consumed.” He paused and smiled. “That was really thoughtful of you, Tony.” “Well it happens occasionally.” Tony sniffed as the elevator stopped at his floor. “Listen, Steve…” Steve turned to face him. “She’s not been herself the last few weeks.” Tony scratched at his beard and Steve took a deep breath.

“I know.” he said gently “I think she’s just, well, processing, if that’s the right word. We only got back from our honeymoon three weeks ago, and it kinda hit her when we got back just what time of year it was. Whilst we were away she didn’t have time to think about it.”

“Just, well, take care of her for me okay?” Tony looked at the Soldier and Steve nodded.

“Always Tony, you had my word on that when I told you I wanted to marry her, and I meant it.”

Tony nodded and clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a look of thanks before he left the elevator on the Part Floor level. It began to rise again and Steve let out a soft sigh. Tony was right, the last two weeks in particular Katie had been a little quiet, less vivacious, almost withdrawn even. At first he had put it down to post honeymoon blues, but Natasha had pointed out that this time twelve months ago she had been at the mercy of HYDRA, with those bastards brutalising her in ways that he couldn’t even bring himself to think about. For this reason, he’d been reticent to go on the latest mission but Katie had insisted, pointing out that they couldn’t not carry on with their lives and that she would be alright.

The fact she had basically moved back into the Tower for the three days he had been gone, however, made him think that she wasn’t quite as alright as she had told him.

The doors opened on their floor and he stepped out. It was mostly dark as he headed through to the bedroom where he found that the TV was playing on the wall, but Katie was fast asleep, one of the pillows clutched to her chest as a makeshift cuddle partner. With a soft smile he closed the door and headed over to the bed. Kicking off his boots he lay on his side, facing her, and brushed her soft hair back off her face before pressing a kiss to the bridge then tip of her nose and finally her lips.

She stirred, her face scrunching up in that adorable way it always did, before she blinked her eyes open. It took her a second to focus but when she did her lips curled upwards into a soft smile which became an ear to ear grin.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He said softly, kissing her again, his hand cupping her face.

“You’re home.” She reached up to lay her hand over his. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

“Wanted to surprise you.”

“Well it worked.”

“I missed you.” He whispered, his thumb caressing her cheekbone as he leaned in for another kiss.

“Missed you more.” She shot back, her lips brushing his and he chuckled.

“Doubt it. How was the Spa?”

“Oh it was amazing.” She gushed, her eyes shining. “I had this deep tissue massage and the guy hit spots on my back I didn’t even know I had. The facial was great, and my hair…”

“I like the colour.” He smiled, gently moving his hand so he twirled a piece around his finger. The ends were slightly lighter than usual, almost a dark honey blonde, and it extended a little up the strands before evening out.

“It’s called ballayage.” She smiled at him. “I just fancied a bit of a change.”

“Looks good on you. And I’m glad you had a nice time, you deserve it.”

“How was the mission? Worth it?”

“Yes and no.” Steve shrugged. “We have a few more leads we can chase up but…” he took a deep breath “I’m beginning to wonder what the point is. He clearly doesn’t wanna be found.”

“The point is he’s your friend, your brother.” Katie moved her hand to run her fingers over his jawline, the pads scratchings lightly against his five-oclock shadow. “Maybe he just needs a bit of time to find himself first, that doesn’t mean you have to give up on him. Besides, I need to give him back his jacket.”

“And I need to thank him. For getting my beautiful girl out and safe.”

“I can’t believe it’s been a year tomorrow since he found me.” She said softly

“Is that what’s been bothering you?”

“Huh?”

“The last few weeks you’ve not been yourself.”

She licked her lips and nodded “Yeah, I just, well, I didn’t give it much thought when we were on our honeymoon, you know, but since coming back and ramping up the Thrombey Campaign it’s kinda hit home a little.” And suddenly Steve understood. SIP were publishing the man’s latest book, “The Colour of Revenge” which was all about a Detective on the trail of a killer who was hunting down and dispatching of six men who had been acquitted of a gang rape and murder.

“Shit.” He let out a groan at the fact he hadn’t made the connection. “Honey, I’m so stupid not to realise that.” “Hey.” She frowned, “Don’t…” She reached up and smoothed the lines that had appeared on his brow and he let out a sigh, gently reaching up to lace his fingers with hers, bringing her hand towards him and placing a soft kiss on her wrist. “It’s better now you’re home.” She assured him gently.

He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss again.

“Is that everything?” He pressed and she hesitated again.

“I’m scared.” She admitted eventually, looking at him.

“Scared of what?”

“Going away, on my own.” The tears welled in her eyes. “I hate that they made me like this, Steve.”

He let out a sigh, he hated that she was scared too. She didn’t deserve it. 

“Why don’t I come with you?” He asked, the idea suddenly forming in his mind.  Katie stilled for a moment and he continued. “Not to the actual meeting, but I can drop you off and pick you up, hang around, whatever you want me to do.”

She looked up at him smiling softly, not even trying to pretend she wasn’t relieved he had offered. “Would you?”

“Of course.” He nodded, wiping the tears off her face. “You only had to ask.” “I didn’t want to. I know how busy you are here and…” “That can wait.” He held her face in his hands as he drove his message home. “You’re the most important thing in my life and if me coming with you makes you feel better then…” He shrugged “Besides, I’ve always wanted to go to Boston.”

“I know we haven’t been back from our honeymoon long, but maybe we can make a little trip out of it if you like?” Her face was suddenly hopefully “Come back on the Saturday?”

“Sure.” Steve smiled at her. “Let’s do it.”

“Oh, Stevie you’re gonna love it.” she beamed, and he smiled at the way her face had gone from being furrowed with worry to alive with excitement. “Massachusetts is amazing in the fall and Boston is just stunning…” “Well I’ll make sure I bring my sketch book.” He smiled “Give me something to do whilst you’re in the meeting.” “Thank you.” She said softly. “I’ll book us somewhere nice to eat one night. Give us an excuse to wear something pretty.”

“Like you need an excuse.” He teased, and she nipped him harshly on the arm. He chuckled and then with a groan he unwillingly pushed himself up off the bed.

“I need a shower.” He said, almost apologetically. “I won’t be long.”

“You better not be.” She muttered and he smiled, dropping a kiss to her forehead before he headed into the bathroom.

True to his word, he wasn’t long. Five minutes, tops. But by the time he came back, the TV was off and Katie was fast asleep. Thinking back to what Tony had said, he found himself wondering if she had actually slept much at all whilst he was gone.

Steve dried himself off, stepped into a clean pair of boxers and then slid into the bed next to his wife, slipping his arms around her. Once her back was nestled snugly into his chest, he dropped a soft kiss to her neck and closed his eyes, happy to have her in his arms.

****

Steve woke the next morning to find his girl tangled around him. She’d shifted in the night, clearly, and now her face was pressed into his chest, right leg snaked between both of his, her right hand was slid under his arm, lightly gripping his shoulder whilst her left rested against her head, fingers in her hair. Smiling to himself he pulled her closer, relishing the feel of her against him. She murmured something incoherently as she gently moved, her cheek pressing into the hair on his chest, the hand around his shoulder slid down to the base of his back where her fingers simply rested, soft against his spine as she continued to sleep. 

And Steve was quite happy to let her nap for longer, using him as her own personal cuddly toy.

He dozed in and out of consciousness again, drifting off for another ten minutes or so, before he felt Katie stirring in his arms, and a soft kiss gently being pressed to his jaw line. He smiled at the contact and tightened his hold on her again, his eyes still closed.

“Morning, Beautiful.” He said softly, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning, Soldier.” She said, her cheek returning to his chest as she basked in the safety and warmth of his hold as his hand crept up the back of the stolen shirt she was wearing, his rough fingers ever so gentle against her skin as he trailed the pads up and down her spine.

“Sleep okay?” He asked, his eyes still not opening.

“Yeah.” She assured him, truthfully. It had been the best night sleep she’d had in days.

“Good. What do you fancy doing today?”

He felt her still and then she pulled back slightly, and at that he opened his eyes and blinked to see those gorgeous emeralds locked onto him.

“Are you not needed at the Compound?”

He shook his head “Kitten, I’ve not seen you for almost three days so I figured we deserved one together.”

She groaned “I have meetings this morning.” “That’s okay, I’ll meet you at lunch.” He said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She didn’t argue. She knew full well why he’d taken the time out, and frankly she adored him for it. Without saying a word she leaned up and captured his lips in a gentle kiss that quickly became heated, but was shattered by the piercing noise of Katie’s alarm.

She gave a groan, and made to move.

“Don’t you dare.” Steve mumbled against her mouth, his grip on her tightening.

“Stevie,” She sighed “I gotta…”

He reached over, his large body flattening her into the mattress making her giggle as he swiped across the screen of her StarkPhone silencing it.

“You ain’t gotta do shit.” He said, hovering over her on his elbows. “Except me.” He added as an afterthought.

“Oh so you’re gonna to explain to the board why I’m late?”

“Well, to be honest,” he said, dipping his head to trail hot kisses up the side of the next, “they probably won’t even notice you’re not there. I mean, are you really that important?”

“Fuck you.” She giggled back.

“Believe me, I’m tryin’” he quipped, his mouth nipping at her ear lobe. That made her giggle even more and she felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin.

“I love it when you do that.” He whispered gently, using his leg to part hers, leaving a large thigh pressed against her mound.

“What?”

“Laugh.” His mouth moved up her jaw line. “It makes me happy.”

“You’re such a sentimental sap.” She mumbled, as his lips claimed hers again, the heat between her legs intensifying as the kiss grew deeper, tongues lashing against one another. Steve pulled back for long enough to pull his shirt over her head before his lips returned to hers and Katie’s hand slid into his hair, one hand gently winding into the longer locks on top, her nails on the other dragging against the hairline on his neck. His hands moved, one gently cupping the side of her face, the other, gently skimming over her breast, her nipples already hardened. He gently teased one with the pad of his thumb and his mouth moved down to the other, his tongue and fingers working in tandem. She gave a little involuntary twitch against his thigh and once more his lips quirked up into a smirk.

“You want something, Baby girl?” He asked, peeking up at her and she nodded.

“Stevie, don’t make me beg, please.”

And when she asked so nicely like that, how could he ever refuse? He hooked his fingers into the sleep shorts she was wearing and worked them down, before flipping down the waist band of his boxers. Katie bent her legs as he shuffled upwards and worked into her, the pair of them letting out a groan each at the stretch as he buried himself to the hilt. Steve’s hands fell to either side of Katie’s face as he held himself up on his forearms, kissing her deeply as he flexed his hips forward, again and again, picking up a gentle rhythm.

It was soft, it was gentle, it was loving, everything she knew her soldier to be and it wasn’t long before he had her writhing and groaning loudly, his lips assaulting that spot on her neck.

“So good,” he groaned, his thrusts getting deeper. “Feel so good, Sweetheart.”

“Keep talking.” She keened, arching into him as her hands raked down his back.

“You were made for me, God I love you Mrs Rogers. So fucking much.” His words were punctuated by his heavy breaths as she gave a soft cry, her head falling backwards, eyes fluttering shut as she tightened around him, her legs shuddering slightly as she came.

“Atta girl.” He panted, his hips becoming faster as he thrust through her orgasm, chasing his own. It wasn’t long before he felt the ribbons in his belly unravel and he came with a cry of his own, his head buried in her neck, hips slowing, thrusts going deeper before he eventually stilled, a loud contented sigh escaping his mouth.

After a few moments of them simply basking in the afterglow, Katie’s hands trailing through Steve’s ruffled hair as his nose slid against hers, she gave a sigh and pushed on his shoulders gently.

“Soldier, I really do need to get up.”

He pouted a little causing her to chuckle before he rolled off her and she pushed herself out of bed, heading for the en-suite. Steve watched her go before he swung his legs from under the covers,, found his boxers, pulled them on and headed down to the kitchen to make them both some coffee. *****

The idea had sprung to Katie as she’d headed out for lunch. The local shop was donating a percentage of its earnings that month to a homeless charity, and it set her mind whirring.

“So you want to donate, all the profit we make, from what is going to likely be the biggest book SIP will ever publish, to charity?” Tony looked at her.

“In a nutshell, yeah.” She nodded. “We can split it across various charities, all those that help victims of sexual assault, abuse or crime…”

“Isn’t that what the Stark Relief Fund is for?” Saul, the SI Finance Director looked at her and she turned to face him.

“Yes, but it isn’t just about the money, it’s about raising awareness.” She pressed “A lot of people don’t know those charities existed. Hell, I didn’t know about half of them until a year ago. If we do this, think of the publicity and the press and…”

She trailed off, looking at Tony. He could see the excitement shining in her eyes. She had a point, and it wasn’t like SI needed the money. SIP was her company after all, and if she wanted to use it to do something good, help people, maybe even help herself…then that was fine by him.

He shrugged and looked round the table “SIP’s vision was never about making money.” Katie beamed at her brother as she realised he was backing her “It was always about helping those who needed a hand to get their work out there…I don’t see why in this case, where they author is already so well-known we can’t use that to help those who need it.”

There was a pause and she looked expectantly round the table. One by one the board members seemed to concede, all of them that is bar their Legal Manager, Dan Robertson who was frowning.

“You’re going to have to bring Mr Thrombey on board Mrs Rogers.” He looked at her. “We can’t just use his book as part of a campaign without his permission.” “I know.” She assured him. “I’ve already realised that. I’m meeting him on Thursday next week, I’ll have a full proposal and pitch ready.”

There were a few murmurs around the table before Tony spoke. “Is that it? Are we settled?”

Everyone looked at one another, nodding, and Katie leaned back in her chair, smiling.

But, she wasn’t smiling now. She had less than twenty-four hours before they set off for Boston and her pitch was only half way through completion.

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s hands slid over her shoulders where she sat on the chair in her office. She looked effortlessly elegant, even in sweats and an off the shoulder sweater, one toned leg stretched out in front of her, the other bent at the knee so her foot was resting on the seat of the chair, her left hand was curled around her shin, her right was tapping at her keyboard, the dark blue framed glasses perched on her nose. “It’s late.”

“I know but,” she sighed, “this means a lot to me Steve. I need it to be right.”

Steve knew better than to argue. Instead he leaned over and kissed the side of her neck. “What are you stuck with?”

“I dunno it just…it all seems so impersonal.” She removed her glasses and wrinkled her nose as he sat down in the arm chair in the corner of the room “Facts and figures on sexual assaults and stuff, we all know it happens, it’s about making people want to do something about it.”

“Are you ready to make it personal?” He asked gently, taking a deep breath. He hated thinking about what she had gone through, he truly did, and if he had half a chance he’d rip the bastards limb from limb. But if she was ready to confront what had happened to her, he had to be there to support and back her all of the way, regardless of his own feelings.

“I don’t know. I was talking to Pepper about this the other day. I should be able to, I should be someone other women can look up to, being an Avenger and all but…maybe I’m just not strong enough.” “You’re the strongest person I know.” Steve leaned forward and locked eyes with her.

“I don’t feel like it when it comes to this.”

“Honey,” he scratched at his head. “Without wanting to sound flippant, since January this year, you’ve been, okay, well maybe okay isn’t the word but you’ve gotten on with things. You’ve moved forward, we both did.”

“Because we were busy, and we had no choice…”

“Well maybe,” he shrugged. “But chasing down a sceptre, fighting Ultron, mobilising a new base, planning a wedding, running a business…it’s all time consuming, stressful stuff that if you really weren’t strong enough to deal with what happened, then it would have all gone to shit and probably tipped you over the edge into a nervous breakdown.”

She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear as she considered what he was saying.

“Honestly…” he continued, his eyes boring into hers. “If you want my opinion I think the fact that it’s the year’s anniversary of what happened that’s playing on your mind a little. You need to stop, look back and how well you’ve done and stop beating yourself up about all the things you haven’t”

She smiled softly and looked down at her hands before she glanced back up at him “When did you get so wise?” He chuckled “Well I am ninety seven years old.”

She laughed “You don’t look a day over twenty five.”

Steve smiled and stood up. “I’m gonna make you a hot chocolate, and you’re gonna stop overthinking everything and come relax. We’re up early tomorrow. You can do the rest at the hotel tomorrow evening.” “No can do, we’re going out.” Katie grinned at him “I booked the Chef’s table at Menton.”

“The what?” Steve frowned.

“You never heard of a Chef’s table?” She looked at him, and he shook his head. “Oh my God I’ve let you down, so badly. Check this out.” she tapped on her computer, bringing up the website and showed him the photos “It’s a private table with a glass wall that gives you a direct view into the kitchen. Totally impossible to get a reservation unless you book like a year in advance. Or name drop.”

Steve groaned. “You seriously dropped the Captain America wants a table line?”

“No, I dropped the Captain America’s wife want a table line.” She smirked, closing down the browser page.

“Pain in my ass.” Steve grumbled, standing up. But as he left the office there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

One that his wife had seen.

*****

“So, was it worth a name drop?” Katie asked as they walked back into the Fireside Lounge located in their hotel.

“I’m happy to overlook the fact you acted like a total brat to make that reservation, yes.” Steve grinned as he went to remove her coat from her shoulders. He looked her up and down, the tight black jump suit she was in was driving him crazy.

She grinned, and then shivered slightly.

“Cold?” He asked, frowning.

“A little, don’t wanna sit in my coat though.”

“Do you want me to nip up to the room, grab your cardigan?”

“Would you?” She asked, even though she knew perfectly well he would.

“Course.” He dropped a kiss to her cheek “You get the drinks in, be right back.”

She headed over to the bar. The bartender, Will, was the same one who had been on before so he greeted her with a smile.

“Mrs Rogers. How was your meal?”

“Fantastic thank you.” She smiled. “Can I get two Bourbon’s please? I’ll leave it to your choice, I’ll be back in a second, just need to nip to the bathroom.”

She excused herself and once she’d finally had the pee she’d been dying for since they left the restaurant, she set about touching up her make-up, smiling to herself. She’d deliberately picked this jumpsuit as she knew it got Steve’s blood pumping. It was a simple, plain black one with a V-neck line, but it was tight. Teamed with a thin red patent leather belt, matching Jimmy-Choos and purse all set off by the bright red lipstick she was sporting, she knew she looked good. Not that Steve had much room to talk, she could happily perve on him in the dark pants he was wearing, teamed with a tweed blazer and that damned blue shirt, his collar left open. Frankly, he looked good enough to eat, which she was planning on doing later.

She headed back into the bar and spotted Steve perched on one of the stools, blinking as she saw he’d changed into a simple brown, long sleeved tee, but then again he always did like to get out of his dress shirts as soon as they got home usually, so she wasn’t that surprised.

“Hey, Handsome. You changed.” She slipped her arms round him from the back. He felt different, he was softer than Steve was. He smelt different, there was a really heavy woody scent to his aftershave whereas Steve’s preferred Hugo Boss was a lot lighter and she realised with horror that Steve hadn’t changed his outfit at all.

This wasn’t Steve.

When the man spun to face her, Katie had to do a double take as the likeness was indeed uncanny at first glance, but as she blinked and looked at him she noticed subtle differences. His eyes were cold and calculating, his jaw line wasn’t quite as sharp as Steve’s and the smirk he wore on his face was nothing like the cheeky one Steve would sport. It was almost a sneer which spread across his face, every feature laced with disdain.

“What the fuck?” The man glared at her as Katie stepped back, holding her hands up in apology.

“I’m sorry, genuine case of mistaken identity,” she said, taking him in. His shirt was the wrong colour too, only she hadn’t been able to see that from the back.

“Yeah well if you’re touting for business I already got some today so get lost.” The man drawled in his light, Boston accent. “Like I just said I thought you were…hang on…” Katie frowned as his words registered “You already got some?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He looked her up and down, arching a brow.

“You think I’m a hooker?” Katie snorted.

“Pretty high end one though, I’ll give you that.” The man’s voice was now amused, as he nodded towards her chest.

“I’m not a hooker.” Katie shook her head, laughing in disbelief.

“Oh, sorry. Do you prefer the term escort?”

She rolled her eyes, flashing her left hand at him. “I’m married, this was a genuine mistake….”

She moved away from him to the side, nodding at Will who slid the check over for her to sign to charge the drinks to their room.

Ransom observed her for a moment, fighting the smirk that was threatening to break across his face. After another row with his stupid Libtard cousin and his mother who had been at his Grandfather’s house before, he’d come out with the sole intention of getting laid and then so drunk he could hardly remember his name. After a visit to one of his usual fuck pieces, he’d achieved the first part, now he was concentrating on the second. He’d been initially irritated by this woman’s interruption, but now she was getting sassy back, and he wasn’t about to let it drop. He could tell she had money,that much was clear to see. The way she talked, held herself, was dressed. Whilst she wasn’t a hooker as he had originally thought (although to be fair to her, she was pretty hot, he’d consider fucking her if the opportunity arose), she was probably living off some seventy odd year old rich banker husband. Huh, maybe she wanted a fuck after all…frustrated little trophy wife.  

“So, tell me. Does your husband know you’re here trying to tap me up?” He looked at her.

“You know, if I was trying to errr…tap you up, you wouldn’t be able to afford me” She shot back, signing her name on the cheque with a flourish.

“Try me.” Ransom smirked, making a show of looking her up and down. “How much for that ass?” “I’ll kick yours for free you self-entitled dick.” She glared at him before she slid the signed paper and pen back to the bartender.

Ransom gave a bark of a laugh “I’ll pass thanks.”

Katie snorted and glanced sideways at look at him, scarlet red lips pursed as she eyed him over her glass of bourbon. “Good decision, because I’ve dropped bigger men than you for fun.” “Sure you have, Dollface” Ransom quirked an eyebrow, elbow leaning on the bar, angling his body towards her. She kept hers facing forwards, arms resting on the bar top, her head shaking slightly.

“You have no fucking idea who I am do you?” Katie shook her head, not looking at the prick stood next to her.  She hated using that line, but, well, when the occasion arose to get one over on a weasely little shit like this, she wasn’t going to pass it up.

“Why should I?” He snorted “I don’t know all the little bitches in Boston.”

Katie felt her mouth drop open and she was about to retaliate when Steve gently appeared by her side, dropping her cardigan over her shoulders.

Ransom recognised him straight away. He’d had it quite often, been told he looked similar to Captain America. So this meant the woman he’d been baiting for the last five minutes was his wife, Katie Rogers, sister of Billionaire Tony Stark, the Avenger, Supernova.

He’d called Supernova a hooker.

Ransom looked into his glass of scotch, turning away back to the bar, snorting with laughter.

“Sorry baby, Sam called and…” Steve stopped, frowning at the look on Katie’s face. “You okay?”

“Fine.” She looked up at him, smiling and nodding towards a cosy sofa over at the other side of the bar. “You wanna go sit down over there?”

“Sure.” He nodded, picking up his glass of bourbon, he held out his free hand for her and she jumped down off the stool.

“I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure.” She snarked to the man next to her “But I don’t lie so…”

Steve frowned, wondering what had gone down whilst he’d been away. He glanced at his wife and then turned to look at the guy that was sat on the stool next to where Katie had been to see if he recognised him and did a double take. He recognised him alright, but only because he looked incredibly like him. Granted, there were a few subtle differences, but the resemblance was uncanny, to the point that at a first glance in the street, you could be fooled.

“Pal, you should keep that bitch on a leash.” Ransom spoke, his eyebrows raising and in front of him Steve stiffened.

“What did you just say?” He frowned, pulling himself up to full height.

“Seriously, man. You save the world from Nazi’s, get frozen for seventy years and then end up marrying that.” Ransom smirked, enjoying baiting the Captain “I’d ask ‘em to put you back under…”

Steve’s nostrils flared and he felt his neck getting warmer. “Don’t you dare talk about my wife like that.”

“Steve, leave it, come on.” Katie gently placed her palm on Steve’s chest. “The guy’s a complete ass hole. If brains were dynamite I doubt he’d have enough to blow his head off.”

“Well if we’re talking about blowing,” Ransom looked Katie up and down before locking onto her eyes. “You up for the job?

Katie let out a bark of a laugh, her hand still on Steve’s chest which was positively humming with anger as she turned to face Ransom, contempt etched across every single inch of her face.

“Go jerk yourself off and wipe it on a curtain like your father should have done with you.”

“I’d rather wipe it in your hair.” came the quip back.

And that was it. That was the point that Steve Rogers snapped.

There was a loud smash, the glass he was holding shattered in his grip as his fist contracted in pure anger. Katie barely had time to realise what had happened before he had stepped forward and grabbed Ransom by the front of his shirt, lifting him with ease, slamming him on the bar.

“Steve!” Katie pulled on his arm. “Baby, he really isn’t worth it, let go!”

“Captain Rogers!” Will behind the bar was desperately trying to talk him down as well “Please, don’t make me call security.”

Security! Steve wanted to snort. Like that would do any good.

“Soldier, come on.” Katie tried again, pleading to his reasonable side. “Look, we’ve had such a nice night. Don’t let him ruin it.”

Steve let out a deep breath, he wanted nothing more than to knock the asshole’s teeth down his throat, but he felt Katie’s touch on his arm and her pleading tone and he let go, shoving the man hard.

“I would tell you to apologise.” Steve snarled stepping back. His voice was steely, eyes carrying none of their usual warmth.“But I suspect it’s pointless”

“Yup.” Ransom nodded “Totally pointless.”

“Like your existence.” Katie mumbled, Ransom snorting in response. “Look, Drysdale, my manager’s told you before.” Will said, his voice laced with vexation as he shuffled from behind the bar to sweep up the glass that Steve had shattered. “Any more trouble and you’re gonna be banned.”

Ransom’s nostrils flashed angrily as he looked at the man “’I’m gonna be banned? Eat shit! He’s the one that just attacked me! He ripped my shirt!” he gestured down to where Steve had grabbed him, two tears either side of the buttons of his shirt “This is a Fendi!”

“Ransom, just shut up and apologise.” Will pressed again. “Or you’re gonna have to leave.”

“Fuck this, I was going anyway.” Ransom snarled, knocking back his drink. He stood up and pulled on a long, tan coloured camel coat before he glared at Steve then Katie “Really bad smell in here.”

Katie rolled her eyes, deciding to let him have that childish one without any fuss. But Steve didn’t.

“Close the door on your way out.”  He watched as the man stopped, took a deep breath before angrily flinging the door open, his coat flapping behind him. There was a moment’s pause before it slammed shut. 

“Sorry.” Steve turned, apologising to Will. 

“He’s a dirt bag and a cretin.” Will shrugged, as he waved the apology off. “No redeeming features whatsoever. Well, none that I’ve seen and trust me, I’ve seen him a hell of a lot.”

“Is your hand okay?” Katie asked Steve gently. She turned his right hand over to see that there were no cuts at all from the glass, which was good.

“Yeah, fine, don’t worry.” Steve looked at her, frowning. “Honey, what on Earth just happened?” He asked her softly, as she took a deep breath, blowing it out of her mouth.

“I went to the bathroom and when I came back, well, I thought he was you from behind so gave him a hug.” She shook her head “Soon as I touched him I realised I was very, very wrong. I tried to apologise and he called me a hooker.”

“A hooker?” Steve repeated, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so I told him even if I was he wouldn’t be able to afford me.”

At that Will, who had been busy pouring them both another drink, laughed as he slid two short tumblers of bourbon back over to them.  “He won’t have liked that at all.”

Steve nodded his thanks to the man as Katie looked at him. “How come?” She asked.

“Well, simply put, his family one way or another are loaded, and Ransom likes to be the flash bastard if you get what I mean.”

“What do his family do?” Katie asked, “I’ve never even heard of the Drysdales.”

“His mother and father run a real Estate Company.”  Will shrugged, “A local one round Massachusetts, but you’ll have heard of his grandfather, or if you haven’t you’ve been living under a rock for the last twenty years.” “Who?” she asked.

“Harlan Thrombey, the crime fiction author.” Will replied, and Katie felt the colour drain from her face. She turned to look at Steve whose eyes had also widened, and she gave a groan.

“Shit.”

**** Part 2

**Original Posting**

[ectora]

REVIEW 311

Screen time

Macy : 23m26s

Maggie : 20m07s

Mel : 18m25s

Harry : 13m20s

Abigael : 5m02s

Jordan : 4m28s

Here is a table with the details of the time shared

Opinions

In a general manner I enjoyed the episode. It was entertaining and well passed. I don’t think it was their strongest episode so far but it was an entertaining one. It finally started to connect the other characters to the main storyline but also felt almost like a filler for the sisters. I also think the show should have maybe showed more consequences and different good things for the sisters. Because except for Mel (and I’ll come back to that later), the good things that happened to Maggie and Macy are pretty normal. It’s not like Maggie didn’t work for that internship. It’s not like a free legal clinic would get bad press. Or that it can’t happen to be upgraded in a hotel. Like yes what happened to antonio and that old man was really bad but at the same time it just didn’t feel like the sisters were gaining that much from it. Maybe if they had sticked to only it being the consequences of what they had to do to get the allergy off or something, rather than good things that could have normally happened, happening. I’m not sure that nakes sense but well lmao

Positive points:

The perfecti. They’re actually really entertaining on screens and are just funny. I think they were a great idea and a good addition to the story. And I’m genuinely excited to see more of them and how they’re story is going to unfold.

Josefina getting her powers. I’m glad they ended up giving her her powers with “wakening spell” similar to the one the sisters needed when they became witches. I really like her powers as well it’s so fitting.

Macy smiling. I have my issues with how the whole thing happened and I’ll take about it later but I’m glad she was finally able to catch a break. The show is often giving her storylines without a lot of time for her to just breath and I’m glad she finally got the opportunity to do so.

Abigael and Jordan. Listen, I just have a soft spot for their friendship. I just enjoy watching them. Tbh they both have easy chemistry with everyone but these two together just gives me good vibes. I just like them together on screen. I also liked how absolutely soft he was with her. And how she easily recognise his qualities. I just love them individually and together.

Maggie finally getting some therapy. I’m glad they’re finally giving that to her. Now can they extend that to like ... literally every single one of their main characters cause they all need it.

Josefina and Mel. As always their scene were really enjoyable. I think it’s always nice to see Mel show other people magic isn’t their only power. And I like how it shows how understanding and empathetic Mel really can be.

Mel and Maggie. Once again, their bond is so sweet and feels very natural. I just love seeing them share normal sisterly moments.

Negative points :

those are only going to be the actual negative points I have. Others that are more like annoyance, I’ll put them with the remarks.

Ruby. I’m just tired of this show giving zero effort to that relationship. I’m a big time abimel shipper but the treatment they give melby is just disrespectful at this point. They had one little moment where they said “oh she isn’t here” and then that’s it. Not even pretending to be on the phone. Or a text message. Nada. This needs to be fixed. Either get on it or get rid of it. But enough. Especially when you compare it to how they treat the straights.

Abigael’s story. Apparently some people don’t make the connexion with self harm, but to me said connexion is pretty obvious. More and more obvious especially after last episode where they showed us Abigael hurting herself directly. It was graphic and kinda unnecessary imo. I think the story itself, of having Abigael’s sides fight each other is interesting but the way they approached it was very careless and if they continue being so adamant about showing us how broken abi is, they need to actually be careful how they handle this.

Things that just don’t make sense:

Did no one tell Maggie about Jordan being cured ? I’m so confused 😭

Mel. Again, is no one ever going to talk about the fact she never finished her phd in season 1 ? Or didn’t have any teaching experience. I know it’s a small things that’s probably never going to be brought up but it’s been nagging me djdhd

At the end of the episode when they go back to putting the egg, suddenly the air isn’t toxic anymore and it’s small but i realised right away and just haven’t been able to get it out of my head.

Same with Josefina and the book. Mel was right there. Couldn’t she have taken it ? 😭

Why did Harry and Macy took the portal to Paris ? Why just not orb.

I’m still confused by the whole demon trying to kill the witch side of Abby to be honest. Like I’m not sure how hurting her physical body is going to do anything ? Isnt her demon part gonna die too then ? Parker’s made more sense because it was like a sickness, you could say the magical cells were killing he humans ones or something. But here ? I’m confused.

Talking about demon abi, ... why this ugly ass dress. I understand the reason for different noticeable clothes but why does it need to be this ugly. Abigael Jameson-Caine is too fashionable for this.

The entire book of shadow thing like ? Did we just forgot Mel presented the book to Josefina the episode before ? Are we just erasing that from our memories ? What’s happening.

How they gonna freeze the therapist and then just leave a note like is she not supposed to unfreeze ? Maggie is just gonna be gone ? And with a sudden note on her laps ? What.

Remarks & speculations

Hacy. I don’t dislike the couple don’t get me wrong. I think they’re sweet. But the show focuses too much on that relationship. Macy barely feels like she has a story outside of it at this point. At least Harry has the whole white lighter thing but again the reason he wants to be mortal is Macy so ... if just feels like the show continues to centre these two characters toward each other first. However it was great to see Macy happy. But again like The sisters had one hug and then that was if.

I’m really sad we didn’t actually see Macy and Josefina interact. Or that we won’t see her reach them a bit more about her magic and the whole new side they don’t know about.

My babies in the tomb. I’m just really wondering what the deal with the perfecti. Are they so big on duality, good and bad that it’s to an extreme that is dangerous ? Abigael in some ways I can understand. She’s the demon overlord. She’s powerful. Her demon form tried to go after TCO. But Jordan ? Was he just a collateral damage ? Did they judge him bad because he was with abi ? Because he was cursed ? Or is it a plan they have that involved isolating TCO ? (I doubt it but still a possibility). I mean he was probably out there cause he was helping abi but then it being strong questions about the perfecti’s moralities and visions of the world. Cannot wait to see more.

Abigael was ... broken to say the least. Kudo to poppy for that, Abigael looked absolutely exhausted. You could feel the fear and exhaustion in everything she did. And I feel bad for her because she’s not only mentally exhausted but physically too. She can’t sleep safely. And I don’t know if everyone realised the level all this must have reached for Abigael to be ready to give up everything. Because she is different from the sisters on this, she grew up as a magical being. That has been her entire life. What has been defining her since birth. For her to be so ready to give everything up so she could finally just find some peace ... she’s literally at her limits.

Talking about abi. We know the sisters are gonna try to help Jordan in episode 13 but does that mean they don’t realise Jordan is gone until then ? So it’s easy to assume 312 will also have abi/jordy mostly and in the tomb. Speculations - if the synopsis of 312 is indeed about saving Jordan from the tomb and not something else - is that they’ll realise on site than Abigael is stuck too and will help her as well. Unless she does something good to help jordan and because of that they decided to get her out too. That could connect both story and have a start on the redemption.

Also while abi is gone are the demons just gonna wait around ? Like the fact they all just willingly followed her rules doesn’t seem realistic but even less when the girl is no where to be found.

I just want Mel to get a proper storyline. And Macy too. Maggie I feel is actually the best written one development wise out of all of them.

I think they brought the storyline of Harry being worried about his age and waiting to be mortal too early. He has a good ten years on Macy anyway. And they barely started dating. There are already a lot of things going on and I genuinely feel like they should have left that for next season at least.

Highlights

Maggie in therapy. “You seem like you have a lot of demons” “are you under a lot of stress” was genuinely funny. Maggie is so naturally funny I really love her for it.

Mel saying there isn’t another shoe to drop and demon Abigael saying hold me beer.

The dogs that does math. Don’t ask me why it’s just funny.

Josefina using her powers after realising she still has them

Macy’s face when Harry told her about becoming mortal as if he isn’t constantly talking about it djdhd

Abigael’s soft “jordy”

Celebrating later, running now

The entire witch ceremony at the end.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane

~^~

Sunday, 12:40

Song: Peter Manos - In My Head

Lucas is surprised his dad hasn’t come to tell him how pathetic he is yet. He supposes it isn’t necessary. Lucas is more than aware of it himself.

He’d dragged himself out to go to the bathroom and get breakfast and managed to avoid a run-in. Now he’s curled up in his bed with the covers pulled up to his neck, trying not to feel too sorry for himself.

It isn’t easy.

He’s tempted to call Kes, but he’d called him yesterday, and he doesn’t want to be so needy. He’s thought about messaging Isa, but he isn’t really sure what he would say. He’s sure they’re all busy anyway. Possibly even hanging out together. Without him. As is likely the new normal already.

Lucas had been so sure he’d found his new normal already, too, but nothing feels normal about his situation anymore. He feels more stupid than anything. He doesn’t know what he’s been thinking. He doesn’t know how he has managed to mess everything up so massively already.

Jens was offering him friendship, and of course Lucas went overboard with it. Of course he’s a fool.

He’s spent the weekend rewatching the vlogs. He’s already in that deep.

It goes against all his rules, but he can’t bring himself to stop. He can’t get any of it out of his head. He can’t stop feeling Jens’s hands on his hips, or his breath on his ear. He can’t stop remembering the pump of his heart when Jens has done nothing more than smile. He can’t stop imagining what Jens might have done, if Lucas hadn’t pulled away from their dance, if Lucas had made up for it when Jens pulled him down to sit in front of him by leaning right back against his chest. He can’t stop considering all the possibilities that have never been possible in the first place.

He can’t stop seeing Jens with her, looking entirely at home.

He’d avoided Instagram entirely yesterday, resisting the temptation to open Jens’s message or stalk his page or Jana’s for any possible torture. He hates how dramatic his heart is being. He knew not to expect anything, and he’d let himself get much too carried away anyway. Jens had just seemed so close and so possible. Now Lucas is realising the boy is probably even more like Kes than he thought.

Lucas is long over that, but there’s still a leftover sting regardless, even as he cringes at his own thoughts and thoughtless actions. It makes him feel worse, sometimes, now that the feelings have slipped away, to look back at it, but he can’t quite bring himself to regret it.

It’s given him plenty of time to come to terms with everything. With himself. He can’t exactly bring himself to regret something that taught him so much.

It just obviously hasn’t taught him enough.

It’s in moments like this where a little of that self-hate returns with full force, and he can’t help wishing that he was just normal. It wouldn’t feel like this, if he was just crushing on a girl who didn’t return his feelings.

He might have no proof to back this up, but he feels pretty sure of it all the same.

It would be fine, if he thought it wouldn’t mess anything up with Jens. He’s mostly angry with himself because of how much he’s already letting it affect him. He had run from the party without even saying goodbye, and he hasn’t responded to the message that Jens had so sweetly sent him afterwards. Or to the second message Jens had sent him yesterday, saying that he hoped Lucas got there safe and was having fun. He’d laughed at the irony of it. He doesn’t know how to explain to Jens that he’s completely miserable, and that he hadn’t gone anywhere in the first place.

He’s lying in his bed in Antwerp, and he’s giving in and clicking on Jens’s Instagram story.

It’s a video of him at the skatepark, flying up the ramp towards the camera, grinning as he jumps off his board and pushes the person away. The responding giggles sound like they come from Robbe. He looks as beautiful as ever, and Lucas wishes more than anything that he could join them. The pained twist of his heart isn’t entirely strong enough to make him want to stay away. It’s just an additional ache.

He escapes the app in a rush and opens Spotify, hoping to distract himself. His fingers twitch, tempted to draw, but there’s already a cramp in them. It was all he’d done yesterday. He’d needed to get his thoughts out, needed to put his emotions on paper, in something real, and endless sketches had poured out, inspired by the past few weeks. He’d sketched Sander first, stood in the art shop with his camera and his smirk. He’d sketched Luca, taking care with her curls and her glasses, one eye closed in a wink, adding extra details as he refused to pour out his mind’s main focus.

It still hadn’t stopped him from creating a dozen sketches of Jens, most only half-completed, the image lost midway as another one came to the forefront.

He needs a break from feeling like this, for a while. Before he remembers that he has to return to school tomorrow, where it will be unavoidable.

He doesn’t get very far, unable to make up his mind, before a notification pops up at the top of his screen and destroys any notion of forgetting his feelings.

Jens has messaged him again. Undeterred, it seems, by Lucas’s previous lack of response.

hey, you’re probably still busy but I was wondering what time you would be back? I’m at the skatepark with the boys, and we’ll probably be here until late, if you wanted to join for a while

Before Lucas can even take this in, another message appears.

you’re probably staying with your friends until the evening though, so don’t worry about it

Lucas blinks at the message with furrowed brows. At first his heart twists, thinking Jens has changed his mind and is politely telling him not to come after all. But the rushed manner in which it had been sent makes him doubt himself, and he rereads it again, searching for the purpose of it. The meaning behind it. Another thought comes to mind, but he can’t quite let himself entertain it. That can’t be right.

There’s no way that Jens is nervous.

It sounds an awful lot like he might be, though, the more Lucas reads it over. He begins to feel a little bad. He hadn’t thought too much on what his distance might feel like to Jens. He hadn’t considered the idea that he’s being unfair. It isn’t Jens’s fault, that Lucas feels hurt. He couldn’t possibly know. Lucas hopes that he doesn’t know. To Jens, it probably feels like Lucas is ignoring him now that he’s with his friends in Utrecht. That he simply takes a back seat. Lucas is the terrible person for knowingly hurting him this way.

He can’t help but smile slightly, and then his hands are moving on their own, opening the message and typing a reply.

I’m already home

It appears as ‘seen’ almost instantly, and it takes just as little time for the typing bubble to appear.

you left early? is everything okay?

I never went

He watches the texting bubble appear and disappear a few times before quickly typing out another message.

came home to my dad waiting for me. he found my (very small) stash. wasn’t pleased.

The typing bubble doesn’t appear for long now.

shit

grounded? I was wondering why you hadn’t replied

Lucas hadn’t even realised that he was creating the perfect out for himself. It’s that simple. It probably makes sense, that his grounding would include a lack of phone privileges. It isn’t too extreme, especially if it includes the idea that he’d already gotten it back. He could let Jens believe that his father had dished out that mini, extra punishment. He won’t even be lying. Not really. He just won’t be mending Jens’s incorrect assumption. Skipping over a tiny detail.

yep. I am to remain in this house indefinitely

fuck

he couldn’t be convinced to let you out for even an hour?

Lucas blinks.

Could his father be convinced?

Can Lucas?

He doesn’t have to think about it too long.

let’s check

He locks his phone and slips out of bed, suddenly eager. Determined. Still, he’s slow and quiet as he opens his door, and he winces at the faint creak of the hinges. He tiptoes up the hallway towards the kitchen, running through what he should say, giving himself a bit of extra time. He needs to go into this with patience. He needs to stay resolute. His father will shut him down the instant he blows up, so he simply needs to keep his cool. Throw in some persuasion. It’ll be difficult, probably, but not impossible. Hopefully.

Only his father isn’t in the kitchen, or the adjoining sitting room. Lucas furrows his brows in confusion and moves back down the hallway. The bathroom is unlocked and empty, and his father’s door lies open, proving without any doubt that the room is unoccupied. He’s completely alone in the flat.

His heart thrums and his mind races in time with the quickening beat. He’s not the most passive person in the world, and he wouldn’t let himself be walked over, and he’s not a model citizen. This isn’t too far past his realm of disobedience.

His father is already beyond pissed, and while Lucas initially cringes at the thought, he shrugs it off.

Might as well go the extra mile.

He heads back to his room and pulls a sweater on over his t-shirt, a light pastel green Isa had once bought him. He snatches his denim jacket from the hook by the front door and swipes up his keys as he shrugs it on. He hesitates for half a second before returning to collect his skateboard from his room, and then he’s off.

I’m on my way

Jens’s response is instant.

fucking nice :D

Lucas’s lips quirk, and he shakes his head slightly, and feels unbearably fond. Jens is so easy. Everything he does is so easy. He’s a steadily burning flame, bright and warm and sure, and Lucas is another brainless moth. Drawn in and set alight.

He doesn’t even know how he’s managed to develop such a ridiculous crush so quickly. He just hopes he can get rid of it in the same manner. Maybe he should be giving himself more time, especially now that he has a genuine excuse. He could have stepped neatly away from Jens for a while with the excuse of his imprisonment and Jens would understand. Lucas knows he would. He knows that would be the best thing to do. It’s unfair to Jens and himself to indulge these feelings, the excitement and the urgency and the pleasure at the mere idea of seeing him.

But Lucas has been miserable the past few days, and it’s starting to make his head whir in much more dangerous directions. He just needs to appease it for a moment. He just needs to see Jens once and let his heart quiet.

He’ll be pleased, at this stage, to see any of them. It makes sense for him to want to join as many of these outings as he can. He’s just beginning to fit into this friend-group.

The skatepark is relatively full, as to be expected for a Sunday afternoon, but it takes Lucas no time to find them. His eyes seek out Jens automatically and he finds him easily where he’s now sat at the top of the half pipe, laughing at someone Lucas doesn’t bother looking at and occasionally glancing at his phone. Lucas has to pause for a second and gather himself, squashing down the mixed emotions that bubble up and plastering on a smile.

It’s only when he’s halfway towards him that he does a double take, catching sight of white-blonde hair. His smile slips into something more real, and some of his familiar bounce returns to his step as he heads towards them.

“Yo, Lucas!” The cheer comes unexpectedly from Moyo, and Lucas twists around until he can see him, jogging in the same direction to meet him as he finally stops next to Jens, kicking up his skateboard and catching the tip in his hand.

Jens smiles up at him, left eye squinting more than the right against the sun. He’s still wearing just a shirt and a deep red hoodie, but he looks soft and warm and pleased as Lucas sits down next to him. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Lucas returns, feeling uncharacteristically shy, nerves twisting in his chest. The party and the hours before it skim through his mind, and then the hours after and all of yesterday when he’d attempted to purge himself of all unwanted feelings, pushing this boy away in the process. He doesn’t deserve the easy friendship Jens has handed him. He’s taken advantage of such an innocent thing, and Jens has absolutely no idea. He wouldn’t look so fond if he did.

“You got grounded?” Moyo questions him as he swings up next to them, dropping down on Jens’s other side with furrowed brows.

Lucas shrugs, twisting his hands together in his lap. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“What? Why?”

Lucas twists around to look at Robbe, who has finally detached himself from his boyfriend long enough to notice Lucas’s presence and migrate over. Lucas catches Sander’s gaze over his shoulder and Sander brightens, slipping around Robbe to greet him. Lucas allows him to clasp their hands together with a grin, but ducks away when he moves to ruffle his hair.

“My little protégé. I was starting to think these idiots were never going to let me see you again.”

Lucas huffs, shaking his head as Sander simply drops down to sit cross-legged behind him. Robbe looks at Lucas and rolls his eyes fondly, and Lucas watches with a twist in his stomach as he sits down behind Sander, wrapping his limbs around him and letting him settle back against his chest. “You say that like I listen to them.”

Sander raises his brows at this, nodding approvingly, and this is when Jens makes a small noise in the back of his throat, strangled with confusion.

Lucas looks at him to see him glancing between him and Sander in deep concentration. “Have you already met?”

“Yeah, on Thursday at the art shop,” Sander says easily. “We had a very educational chat.”

Lucas snorts, thinking of the mini lesson Sander had given him on all his favourite dead, supposedly-gay artists as he led him around the store and then to an ice cream stand down the street, instantly winning Lucas’s heart. It may not have been the most educational experience, but it had been enough for Lucas to learn that Sander is someone he could get along with.

Jens swivels to look at Robbe. “You knew about this?”

Robbe hums. “Yeah?”

“Since when?”

“That night?”

Sander takes in Jens’s expression of utter betrayal and snorts, and Lucas can’t help but raise his own brow in amusement as Jens turns his pout towards him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lucas tilts his head. “Why was I supposed to?”

Jens struggles to form a response to that, pout deepening, and Lucas really wishes he’d stop doing things like that. He wishes he would stop treating them as if they are so close, the way Robbe and Sander are close, sharing everything automatically and having a sunk-in understanding. He wishes Jens would make it easier for Lucas to let go of this idea of something more between them.

Sander knocks his leg against Lucas’s arm to get his attention, and his expression is dramatically serious. “Jens just gets a little jealous,” he mock-whispers, loud enough even for Moyo to hear him and let out a snort.

Jens’s pout shifts into a scowl and he rolls his eyes, and Sander knocks a leg against him instead in some semblance of apology. He raises his brows at Lucas, however, in a silent ‘told you’.

“What, you don’t seriously think Sander is going to steal me away or something, do you?” Lucas can’t help but tease, raising his brows in interest.

Moyo butts in with a laugh of his own, gesturing at Sander and hitting Jens’s arm. “Sander is basically a part of the group anyway, man. Where would he go?”

“That’s not the point,” Jens mumbles, mostly under his breath. Before anyone can question him on it, he’s turning back to Lucas and asking, “How’d you get your dad to let you out, anyway?”

Lucas shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t. He wasn’t there, so I just left.”

“Ahh, a little rebel,” Sander teases.

Robbe huffs a laugh. “A match made in heaven.”

“Don’t encourage them,” Jens protests, leaving Sander sticking his tongue out at him. His gaze turns concerned as he looks at Lucas. “Won’t that make it worse for you when you get back?”

Lucas isn’t sure it can get much worse, but he can say with certainty that this is the happiest he’s been this weekend. It’s bad. This familiar warmth flooding through his chest under Jens’s gaze. It would probably be best for him, to be locked up at home.

But he can’t bring himself to regret this, either.

He gives another shrug, allows himself to smile, allows himself to enjoy how easily Jens returns it when he says, “It’ll be worth it.”

[snapeaddict]

YMMV but Lily was a stand in for Rowling. It's why the relationship with James is uncomfortable to read.

(I hope I guessed the meaning of stand in well because I am not totally sure)

In reference to this post about Gryffindor's (and JKR's) belief in their moral superiority.

Ah, yes op. I do think JKR wrote Lily as this, in her eyes, symbol of perfection for Harry, this symbol of goodness and kindness. I'm sure she saw her behaviour toward Severus as completely okay and positive, I'm sure she never questioned her writing of this apparently flawless character even during The Prince's Tale. But the fact she wrote Lily as flawless (more of a symbol than a character, honestly) doesn't mean she is actually flawless and we now know how problematic JKR's work can be.

I think, and this is a personal opinion, that JKR wrote Lily according to her standards of what a good person is like. Standards she also applies to herself, because she, as an author, and Lily, as her stand in character, have many similarities in the way they view the world and behave toward others. I am of course not comparing a real person and fictional character, but trying to show how one can influence the writing of a character - and what this person thinks of this character, which can be reflected through the narrative and main character's POV. Then, by extension, all of this strongly influences our own views on the character as readers, especially when reading the books for the first time. Some things that are disturbing to us and not understood by Rowling:

Strong belief in your own moral integrity: JKR seems to use her books as a weapon against those who point out her narrow-mindness, constantly reminding us she wrote them as a message of love and acceptance, "including" diversity in her world. She never questions her own behavior. She wrote Lily as morally flawless also because she is a Gryffindor and muggle-born: Lily, if you follow her narrative, is in her right to condemn and be critical of Severus' friends and choices, and to highlight her Gryffindor classmates moral superiority (ie they don't use dark magic) to justify the fact she grants herself the right to judge her friend and condemn his friends without addressing bullying. Because she knows better, and is moraly superior. Just as the narrative never really adressed the fact bullying by Gryffondors on a Slytherin isn't justified because they are "on the good side". JKR considers herself to be part of the Good People™, for many reasons, thus doesn't see any problem is writing blog posts explaining to some people why they are a threat to her own feminist fight or how they should behave. Of course I make NO comparison between her transphobia and a fictional character's behaviour; I'm just trying to show there is a similar pattern of behaviour which is, if I have to sum it up: I have moral integrity because [...] ➡️ So this moral superiority cannot be questioned ➡️ So this gives me the right to judge you/tell you how to behave without sweeping my own backyard.

Quick to condemn, unable to understand: This moral superiority (let's face it, Gryffindor are always portrayed as moraly superior in the books which nearly always justifies for discrimination against Slytherin) JKR thinks she has for reasons said above has for consequence the fact she gives herself the right to point out people's supposed flaws and "dangerous" behaviour without ever giving them time to explain, or listening to them. She sees what she wants to see, and so does Lily as she wrote her: the narrative makes of the fact she never gives Snape the opportunity to explain himself a normal thing, because we already know he is in the wrong; she already knows it and decided it, so why would she even ask?

Belief in your own right to judge and change people: for all the reasons I wrote above. You can question behaviours, you can point out flaws and issues: but you, as a person, cannot grand yourself the right to say "I know better than you do because this, this and this, so please change for me or I'll stop being kind to you." To JKR, this is perfectly acceptable behaviour (for example, "she knows and love trans people" but to the condition they remain silent and do not threaten her fragile views on feminism. If they do, she'll consider them a threat.) She writes Lily with a similar kind of behaviour regarding Slytherins: "without trying to understand who you are and why you are the person I see standing in front of me, without educating myself on your motives or asking for you pov, I ask you to change to match my own standards, no matter what it costs you."

Use of minorities, etc to serve personal aims and display your moral integrity: We have a whole history of JKR using sexual orientations or racial minorities to promote her work's open-mindness without ever giving them a voice or listening to them, trying to understand them. She writes Lily as a character who has such a good heart she is friends with Slytherin, dark arts affiliated Severus Snape and who knows it: "My friends (moraly superior Gryffindors) don't even know why I still hang out with you". ie "you should be grateful and their opinions have more values than yours to me." She points out her own benevolence at still accepting Severus as a friend, but never tries to understand Severus' own bravery and struggle at still being friend with her while having to survive in Slytherin house as a half blood (which was obviously more difficult). While reading this particular extract from the text, I cannot unsee the fact she (or JK) seems to think she does Severus a favor for being his friend (in context it's perhaps understandable), but it's very telling JKR would write this - we get the message as readers. The conclusion being, Lily had to be this moraly perfect girl as she had a Slytherin friend. I cannot say it's not implied by the narrative or it's not what JKR thought (she has lesbian and trans friends, so what she says cannot be discriminating/are justified by her supposed openness). Another disturbing and wrong way of thinking.

Belief that your belonging to one oppressed minority prevents you from oppressing others: JKR uses her identity as a woman in a patriarcal society, her statues as a woman who suffered from this patriarchy, to justify her transphobia and point out the fact she, as part of a group which is oppressed, do not oppress others (her blog post on "Why I'm not transphobic" is very telling). My feelings when I read Lily's character (but this may be interpretations from my part) is that her statues as muggle-born also automatically grants her moral integrity or at least a moral compass (narrative-wise) to be judgemental over Severus' relations and to decide whether or not the Marauder's actions toward him were serious: there is a kind of disturbing hierarchy that is created with Slytherin using dark arts and having prejudices against muggle borns (according to her) vs the Marauders and their pranks (not serious at all especially in comparison for her, and anyways they are Gryffindors). As if the fact she is the victim of oppressors means she doesn't have responsibilities or all she does is somehow justified or cannot mean ill (for example, turning her back on Severus while he is being sexually assaulted after he insulted her. She had a duty to perform as a prefect, which she wasn't even doing well before he said anything). The problem isn't her, she has reasons to act the way she does and flaws like all human beings. The problem is that the narrative (thus JKR) sides with her and never have us readers question her behaviour as well. It matches her inner belief that some people's moral integrity cannot be questioned for certain reasons. We are never offered another pov, we are never shown another perspective (of course Lily as a character isn't the one supposed to be this meta): for example, we could have been shown how easy it is to fall into radicalisation especially when you're an abused and neglected child from a poor social background and a minority. (Again I'm not saying it was up to Lily as a character to understand this. She had no obligation toward Severus and isn't all mighty and a Saint. The "problem" is that the narrative is trying to portray her as such because the author truly believes this is how a good person behaves and should be looked at.)

All of this of course being unconsciously accepted, but never put in question. Lily's behavior being of course viewed more positively because no matter how flawed it was, it served honorable aims: fighting against the disgusting blood purity ideology. Her values are honorable. So to me, of course JKR was convinced of Lily's human perfection and inherent goodness because I think she wrote her according to her own views and beliefs on the matter. Which is why, if we grant importance to the narrative, her marrying someone as crual as James Potter is disturbing according of what is said of her:

"Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others even, and perhaps most especially, when that person couldn't see it in themselves."

But, when you take a step back, you realise that her marriage with James is a consequence of JKR's internalised sexism, as she heavenly implied macho and possessive behaviour such as displayed by James were attractive to girls in the end, and, if you take another step back, you realize JK never understood the seriousness of the bullying she wrote so it didn't look so appealing to her that Lily would date James as it is to us.

Then, if we really think of the characters themselves and not JKR's intentions, I think James and Lily were a good match for various reasons, not all negative.

I'm afraid this is a little clumsy and I just really want to say, I'm not blaming Lily for her behavior even if we must acknowledge the fact she wasn't a very good friend and was very far from being perfect; I'm not making a comparison between real life issues and fictional ones, or between author and fictional character: I'm trying to show why Lily appeared as such a model of goodness into JKR's eyes, which shines through the way she tells the story, because she was written according to the writer's standards - some standards and positions we cry about every day when we open twitter. It's not really about her transphobia or use of minorities, but the reasons why she thinks she has a right to give judgemental opinions and ask people to change, her own system of thinking. Her - phobia are a consequence of this but I have to talk about them to show how it seems to me JKR thinks of herself and of others.

This is not anti Lily Potter, she still was a good person and lived in a particular context which also explains certain aspects of her behavior; this has nothing to do with making Snape look better or finding him excuses.

It has everything to do with the way the author viewed her characters and certainly failed to understand the seriousness and complexity of all subjects she chose to address. With the way she sees things and how her characters behave sometimes accordingly.

(Like, for example, not making any comparison, I'm sure she really thought it was positive when she created the house elves, slaves that are happy to be slaves and making fun of those who are disturbed by their conditions and having the only free elf die; I'm sure she thought the message was good when it clearly reeks of colonialist fantasy, thus her own opinions and views as a white British in the 90s [not generalising this to anyone else!], certainly internalised.)

PLEASE MAKE A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN "SHE WRITES LILY THIS WAY" AND JUST "LILY".

[scripttorture]

Do you have advice on portraying mental disorders to the public in a way that makes sense? How does one portray multiple disorders at once while making it clear they’re the result of torture? Do you usually name them in the story? I can portray disorders + symptoms that come with mental health problems resulting from torture, but I feel like I’m battling public ignorance before even getting to debunking myths about torture. I have the information, but I don’t know how to portray it organically.

I can tell you what I do, but I think that whether that will work for you or not partly depends on how you approach writing.

 If what I say doesn’t fit with your writing style that isn’t a failing and it doesn’t mean you’re ‘doing it wrong’. I don’t think there is one sure fire way to write a complex topic well. And honestly the fact that you’re putting in the time to research and practice is probably more important then any advice I have to give.

 I don’t always name mental health problems in my stories. I appreciate that some people think you always should. Usually because they say if you name a disorder the readers can’t deny it or pretend it’s something else.

 I have a friend in one of my writing groups. He’s writing a wonderful adventure story with a Deaf protagonist. He repeatedly describes the character as Deaf and all of her communication is in sign language.

 He has still had feedback from people six chapters into the story saying they did not realise the character was Deaf.

 Here’s my take away from this: While it is important to try your best with anything you portray it is also important to accept that some people just Will Not Get It despite your best efforts.

 Shout out to the person who thought I was discussing trans people when I spoke about historical pre-pubertal eunuchs.

 Start by thinking about who you’re writing for. What does your ideal reader look like? Whose feedback do you hope for?

 Because I think there’s a big difference in how we approach the story/conversation when we’re expecting to talk to people with experience vs people without.

 Most of the time I’m writing for trauma survivors. I hope I’m writing stories that other people will enjoy. But I accept in the writing that a lot of people without experience of these things might not… quite connect the dots.

 It sounds like you want to write for people who aren’t survivors. To educate. That is just as valid and valuable. It’s a very different approach though.

 When I think about naming a mental health problem I think about how that name fits into the story. The main character in my current story is about 11-13. She’s spent a fair amount of time with two adult survivors. But I’m not sure if she has the knowledge or vocabulary to label what she’s seeing and I’m not sure if anyone else would say it to her.

 So I put those mental health problems in to the way these characters behave and the way their daughter talks to her friend about her parents.

 That approach may not work if the majority of your intended audience have no knowledge about mental health.

 And for me in this story that’s part of the point. I expect that a lot of readers will be taken aback when they find out what these characters have lived through and realise that what they’ve seen up to now are symptoms not ‘quirky character flaws’. I expect that to prompt some thought and questioning*.

 Linking these illnesses to torture was easy in this particular set of stories because the readers will (eventually) see the characters before and after torture. The change happens in front of them.

 Generally I think that’s a good way of establishing the link: explicitly showing the character before and after trauma and highlighting the changes. That can be directly as part of the story, but it can also be done through other characters talking about the past (which can help establish relationships and characters) and by having the survivors themselves reminisce about ‘before’.

 It’s also important to remember that you can show symptoms developing without showing torture itself. There’s nothing wrong with choosing to show quiet moments with the character in a cell, even if we’re told they’re cliché. Use every moment that you can make powerful.

 There’s also nothing wrong with jumping around in the time line and telling a story in a non-linear fashion. My general point here is that there are a lot of ways you can bring up the character’s past and how they’ve changed.

 You can also have a character explicitly state that these symptoms are expected, normal responses to a horrendous situation. Any characters who are doctors, mental health professionals or some types of social workers would be good fits for that. Depending on how you structure the story religious figures (who may be involved in anti-torture work or helping survivors) could work.

 If there are other survivor characters then having a discussion between them about what it changed could be a good organic way to bring that up while bringing the characters closer together.

 Circling back to writing mental health problems- I do think sometimes a lack of an explicit label can help communicate the experience. I think sometimes people get so caught up on the diagnosis and what they think it means that they don’t engage with anything that goes against that preconceived notion. But… whenever you don’t make something explicit in the text you’re leaving it up to the reader to decide how to interpret it. You’re taking a risk to trust this stranger who picked up your story.

 I get the feeling the main thing here is writing it all organically and the fear of messing up.

 That’s understandable. Any writing already asks that we juggle. Adding in torture and mental health problems and committing to doing them well adds a lot more implements into the air.

 And I guarantee that practice will help. It always does.

 Personally I’ve been writing mental health problems for so long that a lot of it has become instinctual. It’s an ingrained part of how I write (for better or worse). Making symptoms an organic part of the character is about making them a part of every aspect of a character’s life.

 Which sounds harder then it is. It’s about thinking things through and filtering them through the character’s personality/motivations.

 Because as much as we can hope to get a message across primarily we are telling stories. And everything needs to serve that.

 Let’s have some examples. I’m going to use two characters from two different stories, Kibwe and Ilāra. Kibwe made a full physical recover from torture. Ilāra ended up with a single below knee amputation. And while there is some overlap in the symptoms I chose for them they’re very different people.

 Kibwe’s long term symptoms are memory loss, intrusive memories, hypervigilance and chronic pain and I’m toying with the idea of adding in inaccurate memories as well.

 His memory problems are an integral part of his character arc and motivation through the stories he’s in. Despite knowing intellectually that they are a normal response to trauma Kibwe sees them as a personal failing. They made it impossible for him to bring charges and that fed into feelings of guilt and self-blame.

 Which is what drives him to stand up for other people.

 Every heroic action he takes in the story, every time he puts himself between someone else and harm, is coming out of his own experience of memory loss and possibly inaccurate memories. It’s all because trying to do the sensible thing and report what happened to the police left him feeling useless, powerless.

 His intrusive memories feed into this as well. They serve as constant reminders that strengthen his resolve.

 In the parts of the story from his perspective all of these memory problems and the effect they have are obvious and there inclusion is natural. Because they colour every single thing he does.

 In the parts of the story that are from other perspectives it’s less obvious what the problem is but there is still clearly A Problem.

 His intrusive memories are pauses in the middle of doing or saying something. They’re the moments when he screws his eyes shut and breathes deep and has to ask the other characters to repeat themselves. They’re the way he flinches at ordinary things and the way he flies off the handle anytime someone brings beer into his workplace.

 His chronic pain is in the days when he can’t do his job. When his hands shake and he snaps. When he takes his frustrations out with the wrong words to the wrong people. And in the distant, awkward way he tries to make amends afterwards.

 Internally he barely acknowledges his hypervigilance. But externally he always positions himself so that he can clearly see anyone else in the room. He can always see the exits. He twitches, he turns his head a lot to keep other people in view. And if he can’t see everyone, can’t see a way out then his speech starts to get biting, his anger leaks through.

 In contrast Ilāra is very very aware of their own hypervigilance.

 They track the people around them and the terrain and rationalise it as sensible. As a precaution. As keeping themselves and others safe. So a portion of any part of the narrative from their perspective is about that: Ilāra's internal paranoid risk assessments.

 They also have learning difficulties, which are more obvious from outside perspectives. Because Ilāra has a proud streak; they’re not stupid, they can get by just fine. They’re just letting their friends/found-family help out because it makes them happy. Ilāra does not actually need help.

 Contrast with the perspectives of the other characters who are very aware that Ilāra can’t manage a budget. Without help they really can’t manage their own money well enough to keep themselves fed, housed and clothed. Because they never learnt how.

 And again this comes up organically because it’s a big part of Ilāra's relationships. There’s a strange push-pull: Ilāra's hypervigilance internally rationalised as protecting these few valued people and those same people stepping in to do the things Ilāra can’t.

 They also experience chronic pain. Though I’m unsure whether this is primarily because of torture or because they lost a limb. And in a way the distinction doesn’t matter. Regardless of the cause it is there.

 They’re actually a lot better at dealing with it then Kibwe, because they’re much better at lying, acting and disguising their own distress.

 Ilāra's other symptoms are less immediately obvious in the narrative but again, they underpin everything.

 Ilāra struggles to relate to people, to really value them as people and they are incredibly socially isolated. Their entire social circle is essentially their family and their work colleagues and there is a lot of overlap in that Venn diagram.

 They don’t know how to honestly relate to other people. They play parts, putting on masks to get by.

 And this comes into the story with every interaction they have. It’s the contrast between their attempts at calculation around outsiders (and how often they’re rejected/dismissed) and their incredibly intense attachment to this small circle of people.

 I’m not sure what the end point of Ilāra's character arc is yet. But one of the things that keeps coming up is the question of who they are away from this small circle of valued people. And whether they can value their own life when they can’t ‘protect’ the people they love.

 Writing all of this out has made me realise something: it’s a lot easier to bring up symptoms organically when those symptoms become an intrinsic part of the character.

 And that can be difficult to grasp at the first attempt. Or the tenth. Or the hundredth.

 We are taught to assume health, be it mental or physical. That people have two legs and functional pancreases and don’t relive violent attacks every time they smell beer.

 Part of writing these things organically (for me anyway) is breaking that internal image. It’s… building a mind that’s a different shape.

 For both of these characters their symptoms are tied to important parts of the long term plot as well as their everyday experience.

 Kibwe would be a different person without his memory problems. They inform what he values, how he acts and the ethical lines he draws for himself. His intrusive memories impact his daily life and so does his chronic pain and hypervigilance. And this in turn impacts his relationships with the other characters, some of whom are more forgiving/understanding of his ‘moods’ then others.

 Ilāra is driven by their isolation and struggle to connect to others. It leads to them putting incredible weight and value on the few relationships they do have. And that drives them to act, to take risks. Fundamentally they fear loss and however calculating and cunning they can be that fear makes them do some idiotic things. Things that effect the plot and every other character.

 Hypervigilance and learning difficulties are their everyday experience. The tension they feel in crowds. The way they assess unfamiliar environments. The way they’ll hand over their pay check to a daughter-figure with a joke and tell themselves that she’s just fussing. The way they’ll get up in the middle of the night and count every item of food in the house.

 Writing mental health problems in an understandable way is like writing any other disability. It’s making it part of the character without it being the whole of the character. It’s recognising how any condition limits a character and having a clear view of when those limits are internal (ie the condition itself) versus external (societal, behavioural expectations, other people etc.)

 Including these things naturally means constructing scenes that are working at multiple levels. If symptoms impact how the characters relate to each other then they fit naturally into any important relationship moments. If symptoms impact the character’s everyday life then it’s natural for the character to consider them before taking an important action.

 When symptoms are related to a character’s long term motivation then it doesn’t feel jarring that they’d come up over and over again. In the same way that bringing up a character’s big-brother figure feels right when you’ve established they have an important, character defining bond.

 It takes practice. Writing is work and it takes a lot of skill to make it look effortless.

 Right now I think the most important thing to take away is this: keep trying. Write and write and write. Don’t let the fear of getting things wrong stop you from getting better.

 I hope that helps. :)

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