#god this sucks. i mean having a studio would be.. incredible. but i don’t want to be stuck here to have it

[mildmayfoxe]

last week i was feeling very positive about making life changes (lots of tabs open about affordable housing lotteries & job listings) but this week i am feeling stuck in an unchangeable loop (boss trying to make changes that will essentially blackmail me into staying here, landlord already sent two (TWO!) emails asking us to commit to resigning the lease for SEPTEMBER)

[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

Dryhumping with Ateez

Ateez Masterlist                                     Group Masterlist

Ask:  If you're okay with writing it, could I request dryhumping with ateez?

Haven’t written a request for Ateez in a minute. This is fun!

Suggestive so... under the cut

Hongjoong: 

The room was filled with heavy breathing as your fingers toyed with the hair on the back of his neck. Hongjoong was so incredibly frustrated, being pressed between you and the couch, still fully clothed. But it was just too risky to take it all off, the thought of someone walking, too risky. So you opted for this, your kisses turning sloppy as you rolled your hips over his. 

You could feel how hard he was through his sweatpants, groaning as your hips stalled. “Don’t stop.” Hongjoong sighed against your lips, his hands moving down to your hips to push you down on him harder. You smiled into the kiss due to his actions, then bit down on his lip slightly, just to drive him a little more insane.

His breathing got heavier as you moved to nip at his neck, just loving every little response you could get. It made it even more satisfying that you could get this response from him, when all of your clothes were on. 

“God if we weren’t in Eden’s studio-” 

Seonghwa: 

Seonghwa had been pining after you all day, even though it was just a rare lazy day at the dorm. But he hadn’t acted on it. Not until you joined him on the couch and he couldn’t help himself but climb on top of you. 

Settled between your legs, you wrapped your legs around his waist. Just so you could bring him closer as he bit down on the skin of your neck, making you gasp. His sweatpants were sitting low on his hips as he grinded against you, your hands resting on the skin of his lower back to push him against you harder. You needed the friction. “Off.” He mumbled into your neck, lifting your shirt in the process. 

It got tossed to the other side of the room, leaving you in your shorts and not much else. You pushed his hips down on you further as his hands groped at your skin and leaving you gasping. 

“Nice to know I can get you like this with all of my clothes on.” 

Yunho: 

The second you walked into his room in that skirt, it was game over for him. The moment you walked in, he pulled you into his lap as he sat in his desk chair. Yunho’s hands found their way to your ass as you settled, straddling his lap and he massaged the flesh. His fingers toyed with the fabric of your panties before pushing you down on him. 

“You look so pretty.” Yunho said, pushing you down on his clothed bulge again and making you gasp. The thin fabric of your underwear wasn’t doing much to prevent fiction or stopping you from feeling how excited he was. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, but continued rolling your hips over his. 

You could already feel yourself getting close, maybe it was his harsh grip on you, but you could feel yourself dripping through your underwear. The feeling made you moan against his lips as your hips stuttered, only for his hands to push you down on him once more. 

“Keep going, don’t stop until you cum.” 

Yeosang: 

He was shy about it, wanting to touch you, but you just seemed so focussed on the movie that he didn’t dare to make the move. Simply opting for spooning you instead, but you could feel his hard on pressing into your back and it made you feel like you needed to take the first step. 

You turned around in Yeosang’s arms, surprising him and then pressed him back into his mattress. It took him a moment but he understood what you were doing, helping you straddle his waist and allowing your clothed core to sit on top of his. He smiled at you, brushing your hairs out of your face as you ground your hips down on his.  

“Next time just tell me.” You said softly and grabbed his hands, pinning them over his head as you rolled figure eights with your hips. He looked at you with those cloudy eyes and parted lips as he let out a groan. 

“I promise I will, just please don’t stop.” 

San: 

San’s tongue grazing over the skin of your neck, it sent you spiraling. You felt drunk on him, so much so that clothes didn’t need to come off. So now there you were, in the backseat of the van praying to God no one would come in because you needed sweet release. 

Pulling your hair, your back arched into him as he continued bucking his hips up into yours. You reached to pull his shirt off, only for him to stop you and tut. “I’m in the middle of schedule, I can’t get undressed.” He smirked at you, feeling the speed of your hips picking up on his. “Just going to have to get off like this.” He added on and leaned back, to watch you get off. 

“Not fair.” You choked out between breaths, grinding down on him a little harder just wanting to cum. He let out a chuckle and his hand moved to grip the back of your neck to keep you steady. 

“I never said anything about being fair.” 

Mingi: 

His sweet touches were what got you here, pressed between him and the little couch in the studio. Mingi’s hips rolled slowly over your clothed core and his face was burried into your neck. Small whimpers coming from his lips as your fingers threaded through his hair. 

“I really want to be inside you.” His voice nearly cracked due to need, presing his clothed bulge against you harder. You moaned at his words and actions, your hand moved his head so that you could look at his face. His hooded eyes locking with yours before kissing you harshly. 

His tongue fought with yours as his hands moved up your body, his hips keeping their brutal pace. His breathing picking up substantially because he was so close to cumming. The fact that he was still fully clothed really just turned him on even more. 

“I feel so close already.” 

Wooyoung:

It had started out with a dance video he had seen one day, one dancer lays on the ground while the other, for lack of better word: grinds on them. Wooyoung knew what he was doing when he asked you to lay on the ground and well, now you were here. With him between your legs and greedily sucking marks onto your collarbones. 

“This was your plan wasn’t it?” You gasped, feeling sweatpant covered bulge press against you. “Maybe.” He smiled at you cheekily and you bucked your hips to meet his. “You’re lucky -” You got cut off by the feeling of his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer. “That I don’t mind.” You finished your sentence and he laughed again. 

You were completely caged between him and the floor, his arms by your head to support his weight. Frustrated, you moved to push his sweatpants down and he stopped you. 

“I wanna see just how worked up I can get you with our clothes on... think of it as an experiment.” 

Jongho: 

It had started with you just needing a spot to sit and opted for his lap, you didn’t quite mean to work him up in front of the others. So now you were here, straddling his waist on his bed while the others were sat in the living room.  

Jongho moved your hair out of your face as you rolled your hips over his, his hands then moving under your shirt sneakily. The action garnered a smile from you, especially as he cupped your chest and egged on your actions. “You have no idea how badly I wanna rip your clothes off. But I’m scared they’re gonna walk in.” He explained softly and you whimpered. Just really wanting him to ruin you. 

He flipped your both over, pressing you into the sheets and grinding down on you. “Guess this will just have to suffice.” He mumbled before kissing you roughly, hands still groping at your chest as he dry fucked you. 

“But later, either when they’re asleep or if they leave, all of this is coming off.” 

[dangandeez]

Comfort for Nagito! (kind of a nagito x reader ?)

Nagito needs some fucking comfort and compliments and damnit I am going to give it to him!! this is just purely wholesome fluffiness

this is kind of more platonic than romantic, but I mean ya know, reader is implied to have a crush on him given all the compliments? also non-despair au

You’d asked Nagito to come down to your little studio that Hope’s Peak had provided for you to make good use of your cosmetology talent, you wanted to test out some makeup on him, and you just generally enjoyed his company.

“I just don’t know why you’d want to waste your incredible talent on someone as disgusting as me.”

“Hey, no, none of that.” You scolded.

“But it’s the truth-”

“No, it’s not. Here, sit.” You instructed, having him sit in one of your swivel chairs and turning him to face the mirror, resting your hands on his shoulders. His eyes immediately went to your reflection. “No, no - I want you to look at yourself.” He did as you instructed, though he didn’t seem very happy about it. You noticed this, and wrapped your arms loosely around him, resting your head near his.

“You’re so fucking cute Nagito.” You praised, resulting in him averting his eyes. With a small huff, you grabbed his chin and directed his face back towards the mirror. “I mean it. And so goddamn handsome. I mean, come on - your skin is like porcelain, and absolutely flawless. You know how many people would kill to have such perfect skin? Seriously, do you even have pores?” You were back to hugging him now. His lips briefly twitched up into the smallest of smiles, though you could tell he still wasn’t buying it, but his cheeks did gain a bit of a blush.

“Your facial structure too, it’s just - so nice. And those eyes? Holy fuck, you have such pretty eyes. I’ve never seen someone else with eyes that color, you know? They’re just so incredibly beautiful, so unique, I could look at them all day and never get tired of seeing them. And that hair, oh my god! Your hair looks like a fluffy cloud - I just wanna run my fingers through it.”

“Y-You can if you really want to..” He spoke in a small, but hopeful voice. You could see the slight quiver of his lip. With a smile, you did just that, your smile growing as you did. Nagito could see the softness in your eyes, and it made him think that maybe, just maybe, you were being genuine with your compliments.

“It really does feel like a cloud - it’s so soft!” You mused, hugging him once more and giving his shoulders a little squeeze. “And you smell really nice, y’know that? Being this close I can actually tell now. But you do. And you’re so nice, to everyone here. You’re a really sweet, caring guy, and I feel like the lucky one since I get to know you. Since I get to call you my friend.” He swallowed hard, his breathing seeming a little more forced to keep steady.

“Can you do something for me real quick?”

“Anything..”

“I want you to look at yourself, and say ‘I’m cute’.” He sucked in a breath, tensing up, his eyes once again filling with that dislike and criticism. “Please?”

“I.. I’m cute.” He said with a sigh.

“Good!” You praised, hugging him a little tighter. The joy in your voice made him relax a little. “One more time?”

“I’m.. Cute…” His lip was trembling again, despite him biting the inside of it to try and hide it. You could see him blinking back tears.

“Yes, you are!” You cheered. “Now, can you say ‘I’m handsome’?”

“Y/N…” His voice shook.

“C’mon, please?” You pleaded, and he shut his eyes for a moment, taking another steadying breath before opening them back up.

“I-I’m.. H-Handsome..” His cheeks were burning, and a tear finally fell.

“Good! Good job!” You praised, gently swaying back and forth with him now to try and comfort him. “You know that I mean every single compliment I’ve given you, right? You’re so stunning, Nagito. I don’t know who made you think otherwise, but they were wrong. You’re absolutely amazing, and so very attractive. And you deserve so much praise, and so much love.” You continued praising, and more tears fell despite his efforts, a small sob escaping. It broke your heart to see, because you knew that he really did hate himself so much that he believed all of the negativity thrown his way. You turned his chair around, wrapping your arms around him properly, holding him close, and rubbing gentle circles on his back. He shook as he cried against the crook of your neck, holding onto you tightly, like he was scared you’d slip away if he let go. You placed a kiss to the top of his head, with no plans of letting go any time soon.

It would take some work, and probably a lot of time, but you were determined to undo the damage that’d been done to him.

You were going to make him see himself through a kinder lens.

Because he deserved to see the truth.

[revenge-of-the-shit]

Writing Chinese characters set within Western worlds

If you don’t want to read it on tumblr, go check this out on medium or go follow me on instagram at @annessarose_writes!

Alright. You know what. I’ve seen plenty of stereotypes in fiction (and in social media) that are so incredibly pervasive I’ve seen many Chinese people within the western world internalize it themselves. So here’s a rough guide on writing Chinese characters in an English-speaking Western setting, written by me, a Chinese Canadian woman.

If you’re here to say something racist fuck off. Otherwise, welcome! This is not a comprehensive guide by any means. This is merely a brief overview based on my own experiences. My experience (as someone in North America) will differ from someone living in, say, Europe or South America. I’m not representative of every Chinese person because everyone’s experience is unique. So here were are.

1. Our names

Chinese names are usually written as follows: [family name] [name]. Let’s take a Canadian historical figure as an example: 黃寬先. In Chinese, it’s pronounced “Wong Foon Sien.” On Canadian documents — which are written [First name] [Last name], he’d be called “Foon Sien Wong.” He went by “Foon Sien” for most of his life. That’s his full “first name.” Nobody would call him Foon because that’s just half of his name (unless given permission). It’d be like meeting a stranger called Alex and calling them “Al” right off the bat. Sure, they could go by Al, but you don’t know that.

For those of us living in the Western world, some of us have both a Chinese name and an English name. In these cases, our Chinese name becomes our middle name in English (e.g. a character could be called John Heen-Gwong Lee).

For some people who immigrated to the Western world but were born in China, their legal name would be their Chinese name. Some choose to keep that name. Some choose an English name as their “preferred” name but keep their Chinese name on legal documents. It varies.

2. Parents & Stereotypes

There’s two stereotypes which are so pervasive I see it being used over and over in jokes even within Chinese (and, to a larger extent, asian) communities:

The [abusive] tiger mom and the meek/absent dad

Both parents are unreasonably strict/abusive and they suck

I have yet to see any fiction stories with Chinese parents where they’re depicted as kind/loving/supportive/understanding (if you have recommendations — please do send them my way). Not all Chinese parents are tiger parents. Chinese parents — like all parents — are human. Good god. YES, they’re human! YES, they have flaws! YES, they are influenced by the culture they grew up in!

That isn’t to say there aren’t parents like those tropes. There are. I know this because I grew up in a predominantly Chinese community where I had many a friend’s parent who was like this. Parents who compare their kids to the best kid in class. Parents who force kids into private lessons and competitions that the kid despises because the parents think it’s for the best. Parents who have literally called their kid a disappointment because they didn’t get 100%.

But please, also consider: there’s parents who support their child’s goals and who listen. Not all parents force their kid into the stereotypical trifecta of lawyer/doctor/engineer — I know of a good number who support their child in choosing the path they want. There’s parents who make mistakes and learn and try their best to support their child. So please, for the love of god, if you write a Chinese character, don’t reduce their parents to stereotypes.

3. Language & Learning

When I first read The Son of Neptune by Rick Riordan, I was so excited to see a Chinese Canadian character in Frank Zhang. Finally, there was someone like me. Finally, there was representation in well-known western media.

While I do appreciate that RR added in Frank Zhang, it’s pretty obvious that he didn’t really know how to write a Chinese Canadian character. One of the most glaring examples: in The Son of Neptune, Frank reveals he can’t really read Chinese. In like, the next book (I think — it’s been a while since I read it), Frank is suddenly able to read Chinese because he “learned” it in two week’s time.

Nope. Nuh-uh. Learning Chinese is a pain, let me tell you. There’s thousands of different characters and it is something you need to devote a lot of time to learning (especially if you’re progressed past the best childhood years for learning a language). So if you’re writing about a Chinese character living in the western world, here’s what you need to know:

A character who was born and raised in the western world does not necessarily know how to read/write in Chinese.

If they were raised by their own family, the character would very likely know how to speak their own dialect. They’d be able to understand the language used in movies/TV and they sound like a native speaker, but they may not know how to use language outside of certain contexts (the term for this is heritage speaker).

They probably went to Chinese school. They probably hated it. Chinese school is usually universally hated and does not teach you jack shit other than a hatred for the place and a vague memory of learning how to read the language without actually retaining knowledge of what you learned.

Most of my friends who know how to read/write in Chinese learned from tutors, parents, or were born in China.

There’s two main types of written Chinese: Traditional (used by Cantonese speakers) and Simplified (used by Mandarin speakers).

There are MANY other dialects (which I don’t know much about). The most common ones are Mandarin (usually spoken by people from the mainland), then Cantonese (usually spoken by people from Hong Kong).

4. Fitting into the community

Usually, the story is one of two things: they’re the only Asian kid in the entire school, or they grew up in a predominantly East Asian community. Things to consider for both of these when you’re writing:

Growing up the only Asian kid

They’re “that Asian kid.” They’re different. They walk into a class and feel weird and out of place.

They bring food from home (usually ethnic cuisine) to school. Other classmates stare at it, make fun of it, demand what that strange food is.

“Where are you from?” “Here.” “No, like, where are you really from?”

“Your name is funny.”

People literally never getting the character’s name right.

And that horrible, horrible feeling: wishing that they were white so they could avoid all of this.

Growing up in a predominantly East Asian community

It’s not uncommon for Chinese cuisine to mix with other east Asian cuisines. For special occasions (or just for a casual night out), your character could very well go out to get some sushi, or go for some KBBQ, or get some Vietnamese noodles.

Screaming “AIYAA” at/with their friends unironically if they’re annoyed (I’ve done this a lot with Cantonese friends. Less so with Mandarin friends).

Slipping into Chinese for like, two words, during a mostly-English conversation to talk about food or some other topic that can’t be adequately conveyed in English.

Reading books by white authors and learning about white history and growing up thinking white names, white books, and white history is the norm and standard even though the community is surrounded by East Asian people.

When the character leaves this community, there’s a brief culture shock when they realize how sheltered they’ve been.

Things in common for both of these:

The character has grown up on ethnic cuisine. Yes, Chinese people do eat rice with many of our meals. Yes, boba (bubble) tea is extremely popular. No, rice isn’t the only thing we eat. No, not all Chinese people love boba (though as a Chinese person I admit this sounds sacrilegious to say…)

The character likely grew up watching film/TVthat originates from East Asia. It’s not uncommon to watch Studio Ghibli films. It’s not uncommon to watch Japanese or Korean shows with canto/mando dub (examples: Ultraman, Kamen Rider). If you want to see a classic Chinese film from Hong Kong that’s fucking hilarious, watch Kung Fu Hustle.

The character has felt or been told that they’re “too westernized to be Chinese, but too Chinese to fit into the western world.” They’re torn between the two.

5. General portrayal

It’s quite simple, really. We’re human. We’re regular people. We have regular hobbies like all people do. We’re good at some subjects and bad at others. We have likes and dislikes like all people do. So here’s a list of stereotypes you can avoid.

STEREOTYPES TO AVOID BECAUSE WE’RE REGULAR HUMANS AND WE DON’T FIT INTO A SINGLE COOKIE CUTTER SHAPE, DAMMIT.

The character is a maths whiz and perfect at all things STEM.

The character is a straight-A+ gifted/IB/AP student.

The character is the next coming of Mozart and is amazing at piano/violin.

The character’s free time is spent only studying.

The character is insanely good at martial arts.

The character is either meek and submissive or an explosive, dangerous force.

I’m not going to mention the other stereotypes. You know, those ones. The really obvious ones that make fun of and demonize (sometimes through multiple untruths) how we look and how we live our lives. You should know.

Of course, there are people who fit into one or more of these. That’s not the point. The point is: molding all Chinese characters to these stereotypes (which white media tends to do) is harmful and reductionist. We’re more than stereotypes.

—

6. Conclusion

We need more diversity in portrayal of Chinese characters. Reducing us into one-dimensional caricatures has done nothing but harm us — look at what’s happening now. This guide is by no means comprehensive, but I hope it has helped you by providing a quick overview.

If you want to accurately portray Chinese characters, do your research. Read Chinese fiction. Watch Chinese films/TV. Initiate a conversation with the community. Portray us accurately. Quit turning us into caricatures.

[little-smartass]

THE VAMPIRE LESTAT COVER ALBUM - the legendary Vampire Lestat is back and bigger and badder than ever, this time bringing a whole album of song covers ranging from classic bangers to newer fresh takes on chart hits! get your copy now, complete with a transcript of the artist's commentary on each song!

(songs I think Lestat would cover and release as an album in an attempt to re-kickstart his career and/or make some sort of dramatic statement to Louis. tracklist and "artist commentary" under the cut)

Survival - Muse

“And I’ll reveal my strength, to the whole human race, yes I am prepared, to stay alive, and I won’t forgive, and vengeance is mine, and I won’t give in, because I choose to thrive! Yeah I’m gonna win!”

Oh, I wish this song had been around back on that opening night at the Cow Palace - how apt that would have been! What a fucking anthem! They would have been rioting all night. I mean, they already were, but, like, because of the music. Not because vampires were being immolated in the middle of the crowd. Different kind of riot.

The Bitch Is Back - Elton John

“I’m a bitch, I’m a bitch, oh the bitch is back, stone cold sober as a matter of fact, I can bitch, I can bitch, ‘cause I’m better than you, it’s the way that I move, the things that I do!”

One day I want to have this play as I walk into Night Island. I’ll time it perfectly so that I throw off my coat - my denim jacket, or- oh, no, a fur! Maximum drama! - just as the chorus starts. Armand will know that I’m coming of course, but I think that’ll just make it even better. And I have good memories to this song... [muffled question] Sorry, gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, bébé. [laughter]

Everybody Loves Me - OneRepublic

"Oh my, feels just like I don’t try, look so good I might die, all I know is everybody loves me, head down, swaying to my own sound, flashes in my face now, all I know is everybody loves me”

Look, do I even need to explain this one? Didn’t think so.

Bad Reputation - Joan Jett

"I don't give a damn ‘bout my reputation, I've never been afraid of any deviation, and I don't really care if you think I'm strange, I ain't gonna change - and I'm never gonna care bout my bad reputation"

This one's fairly self-explanatory again. It could have been my personal anthem when I was mortal quite honestly. And it's an awful lot of fun to jump about and headbang to, don't you think? That's a new thing I've found out about, headbanging. People have been hopping about to music looking like fools for centuries but now there's a name for it. Fantastic.

bad guy - Billie Eilish

"I’m that bad type, make your mama sad time, make your girlfriend mad type, might seduce your dad time… I’m the bad guy. Duh.”

Creepy? Check. Sexy? Check. Tongue-in-cheek? Check check. This song was great and a lot of fun to cover.

Lover to Lover - Florence + the Machine

“I believe there’s no salvation for me now, no space among the clouds, and I feel I’m heading down, but that’s alright, that’s alright, that’s alright”

I don’t know, this one just felt very relevant. Also the piano was great to do. You might have noticed that I’ve picked a lot of songs with piano, and that’s because I bullied the studio into getting me a goooooorgeous grand piano for the recording space and I wanted to use it as much as possible!

Feeling Good - Muse

“Stars when you shine, you know how I feel, scent of the pine, you know how I feel, oh freedom is mine, and I know how I feel”

I just really like this song - I’ve done a cover of an excellent cover! Can- can you put emojis in this? Do people still use emojis? Well imagine I’ve put the shrug one. Wait, isn’t there- Daniel, Daniel, come here, isn’t there a shrug emoji made up of keyboard- [muffled words] yes! The shrug one! Yes, put that in the transcription. [ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ] I just like this song.

The Man - The Killers

“I got gas in the tank, I got money in the bank, I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man, I got skin in the game, I got a household name, I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man”

I feel like this one speaks for itself too. Can you put that shrug emoji thing in here again? [ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ] Yes!

J'ai Pas Envie - MIKA

J'ai pas envie, de faire comme si, comme les maris, qui disent oui, j'ai pas envie, j'ai pas envie, j'ai pas envie d'te faire plaisir, j'ai pas envie, j'ai pas envie, si tu m'aimes viens me le dire"

Look, I'm not going to translate the whole song for you, because it has all this clever wordplay you just totally lose in english… but the gist of it is that these two lovers are… at odds a lot. It's… it's maybe a little spiteful [laughter] but in a fun way! It's a fun song! Louis won't even be mad about it, it's MIKA.

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen

"When I'm not with you, think of you always (I miss those long hot summer nights), when I'm not with you, think of me always, always"

[Long pause] God, I miss Freddie.

Let 'Em Talk - Kesha

Ah, full disclosure - I put this song in purely because of the expression Louis made when I played it in the car and it got to the line “can suck my dick” and she did that popping noise… it was incredible, and I just knew I had to cover it so I could see his expression when I said that. I can’t wait to play it to him. [laughter]

So What - P!nk

"So so what, I'm still a rockstar, I got my rock moves, and I don't need you, and guess what? I'm having more fun, and now that we're done, I'm gonna show you tonight, I'm alright, I'm just fine, (and you're a tool, so)"

I'm actually a big fan of nineties and noughties female stars - all that grrrrrrrl power, it's great fun, you know? I'd say this one is fairly self-explanatory, because I am still a rockstar! This is my new album! Fuck you EMP and your sniffy little article calling me "washed up"!

Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons

"But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line, I really fucked it up this time, didn't I my dear?"

This one could be self-deprecating, but it's also very vindictively angry at the same time, and that's a combination I definitely get. Like, oh, it's my fault, isn't it? It's my fucking fault again, what a surprise. Perhaps "learn from your mother or you'll spend your days biting your own neck" is a little on the nose… [muffled words] you've read my books, right? [muffled words] Good, good.

Missy - The Airbourne Toxic Event

"But I swear there's still some good in me, I think if you'd stuck around you'd see, all the botched attempts at integrity I once had"

Oh, I was feeling philosophical when I picked this one. No, philosophical isn't the right word… melancholy? Do people still use that word? "I swear I swear I swear I'll never get sad" is both furiously defiant and yet so self-defeatingly ironic. [Exasperated noise] Enough of that. Next!

Please Don't Leave Me - P!nk

"I don't know if I can yell any louder, how many times have I kicked you out of here, or said something insulting? I can be so mean when I wanna be, I am capable of nearly anything, when my heart is broken… (please, please don't leave me)"

Oh, we’re… we’re getting to this section now. [clearing throat] Well, I have to make up for that sucking dick line, don’t I? Get a bit vulnerable. Oh God, why did I decide to do this bit? [muffled words] [bad chicago accent] But why buy the cow? Because you love him, you really do. [sigh, laughter]

Next To Me - Imagine Dragons

"Oh, I always let you down, shattered on the ground, still I find you there, next to me, and oh, the stupid things I do, I'm far from good it's true, still I find you, next to me"

Why did I- I don’t remember putting so many of these ones in.

Run To You - Pentatonix

"I've been settling scores, I've been fighting so long, but I've lost your war, and our kingdom is gone... how shall I win back your heart which was mine? I have broken bones and tattered clothes, I've run out of time"

[Sigh] [clears throat] Yeah. I think we can move onto the next one.

Love of My Life - Queen

“Love of my life, don't leave me, you've stolen my love, you now desert me, love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me, because you don't know, what it means to me”

I play this one sometimes on my baby grand when we've had a fight, and it's impossible for him to stay angry. He's a sucker for this sort of… formality in romance. God, I wish I'd realised that earlier. If I'd written him a letter in fancy copperplate script with scented paper and enclosed rose petals politely requesting him to bend me over his desk back in the day, it might not have taken two centuries of mutual blue balls for us to figure our shit out. Ah well, live and learn… as it were. [muffled words] Look, I did a whole bunch of vulnerable songs! Now I get to make sex jokes! [laughter] oh fuck off.

[aliendes]

BTS reaction to you having a wet dream (NSFW) 18+

BTS reaction to you having a wet dream (NSFW) 18+

Warnings: slight somnophilia (totally consensual and discussions are had prior because we stan CONSENT ;D), wet dreams obvi, Namjoon’s get a little angsty if you squint, smut, thigh riding but it’s only a thought not an action, oral (f rcving), fingering, masturbation (m&f), polyamory, mxm action (if that makes you uncomfortable skip Jimin’s reaction, sry but we all equals here!), slight dom themes because it me and I can’t right Joon as anything but, unprotected sex also because, it me, cum play and cum eating because Jin’s got really… uh, graphic. I’m not sorry. If I missed anything let me know. 

A/N: So this was another request. I just can’t keep the requests to one member I guess… anon requested a drabble with JK noticing YN having a wet dream. Thanks anon! These ones got away from me a bit… and it’s completely unedited. sorry! Send a request!

 You and Seokjin have been dating for a few years now, so there wasn’t much you guys haven’t tried out in the bedroom. There was one thing that Jin had been wanting to try recently and brought up to you a couple of months ago. He was interested in waking you up with his tongue. When he brought it up to you, you were a little worried how you would react in the moment, since you were a fairly light sleeper. After a long conversation about how it would go down, you both decided that he would wait for a time he knew you were horny, but weren’t expecting it, since part of his kink was you not knowing. 

Cue Jin coming home after midnight after a long day of practice. He was still sweaty and gross and incredibly exhausted. All he wanted to do was fall asleep, but he knew he needed to shower first, since you didn’t like when he came to bed sweaty. Peeling his clothes off, he headed for the bathroom.

After his shower, Jin wrapped a towel around his thin waist and walked into the bedroom. He expected you to be asleep since it was so late. What he didn’t expect to find was you, asleep, with your hand in your pants on top of the covers. His brain short circuited for a second, blinking owlishly at the sight before him. Were you moaning? Jin walked closer to the bed and realized you must have kicked the covers off, since they were bunched at your feet. Your hand was resting on your pubic bone under your thin sleep shorts. You were obviously dreaming, twitching every few seconds and letting out soft mewls. Jin could feel himself growing hard under the towel he now had a death grip on. 

Jin gulped. This was his chance. You were obviously turned on, hopefully by him, in your dream. He dropped the towel quickly and grabbed onto his semi-hard cock, stroking it lazily as he walked closer to the bed. He needed to be careful not to wake you, since a pin drop could usually wake you up. 

Gently, Jin slipped his thumbs under the waistband of your shorts and slid them down your legs until they were all the way off. Next, he picked up your hand and moved it to your side. You were still moaning, seemingly in a deep sleep, luckily for your boyfriend. Jin climbed on the bed, careful to rest his knees softly so he didn’t move the mattress too much, and grabbed onto your soft thighs. He was so turned on right now, it was hard for him to stay quiet, letting out soft sighs every now and then. Slowly, Jin spread your legs, finally getting a view of your soaked pussy. Your folds were glistening in the low light of the bedroom and Jin swears he could cum right now, untouched.

Subconsciously stroking his cock again, Jin leaned down until he was face to face with your dripping cunt. His fantasy was about to come true and he was so excited he could barely contain himself. One hand on his cock, the other on your thigh, he dug in. Plump lips kissing at your wet lips, tongue slipping out and spreading you open. He teased your clit for a moment, pushing his tongue onto the already swollen bud and he idly wondered how long you had been turned on for you to be this swollen. Slowly, Jin began eating you out like a man starved, jacking himself off to his wildest fantasy. Above him, Jin heard your soft moans growing louder, spurring him on further. 

“Jin?” You sounded so sexy, voice rough with sleep, that Jin came into his hand with a couple more strokes. Ignoring the mess, he brought his cum covered hand up to your core, spreading your pussy open with two fingers, before slipping one into your tight hole. When he was knuckle deep in you, you loudly moaned. “Ah - oh my - Jin!” You shrieked in pleasure as you looked down to the lewd scene between your legs.

Your boyfriend was staring up at you, clit between his teeth, cum covered fingers pushing into your cunt. You don’t think you’ve seen anything hotter in your life. Jin was onto something with this kink. You let out another breathy moan as Jin sucked your bud into his mouth and lapped at it with the tip of his tongue. Throwing your head back, you surrendered your pleasure to Jin, cumming hard all over his face. 

Jin moaned into your pussy as you clenched around his digit, lapping up your release. He pulled his finger from you, kissing your clit gently before sitting up and smiling a sweet smile at you. “Thank you,” he said, sincerely. You couldn’t help the bright smile that spread across your face at your loving boyfriend.

“I think I should be thanking you,” you both laughed at your statement as he leaned up and kissed you gently. 

Yoongi was sitting in his studio, headset on, working on some lyrics. He had all but forgotten that you were actually in his studio with him until he turned around and saw you sleeping, curled up in a ball on his leather couch. He smiled at your small form before narrowing his eyes at you. You were definitely sleeping, but why did you face looking twisted in pleasure?

Yoongi took his headset off, carefully setting it on his desk, when he immediately realized what was going on. You were moaning and twitching in your sleep. You were having a wet dream.

Your blonde boyfriend smirked as he rose from his seat, walking over to your sleeping body. For a moment, he just admired your beautiful sleeping face. Features twisted slightly, brow furrowed, but you looked like you were enjoying yourself. Gently, Yoongi rested his hand on your upper arm, lightly shaking you awake. 

“YN?” He whispered, right next to your face, “Honey? You’re dreaming.”

Slowly, you opened one eye and peered at Yoongi’s smiling face. Did you fall asleep? Smacking your lips together to get rid of your dry mouth, you rubbed at your eyes. “Sorry baby, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Are you ready to go home?” You sat up all the way, but Yoongi stayed kneeled in front of you on the floor. When he didn’t respond you cocked your head at him, “What’s up babe?”

“Were you having a good dream?” He smirked at you.

You were still in a sleepy haze so you didn’t quite catch the implication in his words. You were racking your brain to figure out what he was talking about, until it hit you. Realization washed over your face and Yoongi had to hold back a snicker. You were dreaming. About him. And his cock, deep inside you. You blushed at the reminder of your dirty dream and quickly hid your face behind your sweater paws.

“Hey - don’t hide,” Yoongi said, pulling your hands away from your face and holding them in his, “it was kind of hot.” 

Your blush deepened at his words, “Yoongs!”

“I’m serious, YN,” he looked down at his crotch to emphasize his words, eyebrow raised, “see?”

You looked down and saw the outline of his hard dick straining his jeans. It looked uncomfortable and you felt kind of bad you unknowingly did that to him. You pulled him towards you until he was hovering over you, both hands placed on the back of the dark couch. “Want some help with that?” 

He gave you his signature gummy smile at your words, “Only if I can return the favor.”

You were currently on tour with your internationally famous boyfriend, J-hope. Otherwise known as your sunshine, Hobi. Being on tour was exhausting, but it was nothing for you compared to the boys, so you always let Hoseok sleep whenever he could, wherever he could. That meant he also tried to let you sleep when you needed it, since you were so respectful of his sleep. However, he was having a really hard time with that right now.

You were both lying in the bed of the hotel room you were currently staying in. You had both gone to bed about an hour ago, you having fallen asleep right away while Hoseok had been tossing and turning. That was, until about 5 minutes ago, when you started moaning in your sleep.

Hoseok had his eyes closed in the dark room, hand down his pants, as he listened to you mewl and moan next to him. It was turning him on so much that he almost felt guilty for touching himself. He couldn’t not touch himself with the sounds that were coming out of your mouth. He was lazily stroking his cock, imagining it was him making you sound like that. 

Carefully he turned on his side, dick still in hand, so he could see your face in the moonlight. What he saw only caused his arousal to grow. There you were, in a tiny silk camisole through which Hoseok could see your pert nipples. But what really broke him was the fact that your small hand was stuffed into your silk panties, a growing wet spot forming on the fabric. Hoseok gripped his dick so tight, he thought he was about to blow his load. He needed to be inside you.

Your boyfriend reached a hand over to you, gently shaking your shoulder, “Sweetie?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed and you pursed your lips, hand twitching in your underwear. God, he was going to come undone any second now. 

“Mmm,” you moaned, slowly opening your eyes, “Hobi?”

“Hi sweetness, come here,” he whispered softly to you, “you were having fun without me.”

You blinked a couple times before realizing that your hand was wet. You looked down and realized you were dripping onto your hand, suddenly remembering the dream you were having. “Oh, shit,” your voice was breathy and it turned Hoseok on even more.

“Let me help you?” It was a request, and you happily obliged, removing your hand from your shorts, sliding it under the covers and finding Hoseok’s hard cock, “God, babe, oh please,” he moaned as you started stroking his length.

After a moment of composing himself, Hoseok scooted closer to you and reached a hand down the front of your panties, immediately finding your clit. You had been so worked up from your dream that it didn’t take you long to feel the telltale signs of your orgasm. The silent room was filled with both yours and Hoseok’s soft whines and moans at the feeling of each other’s hands getting the other off. It was incredibly sensual, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t something you’ve thought about before. 

Just as you felt white hot pleasure shoot through your veins, Hoseok’s breath stuttered and he came all over your hand. Both of you worked the other through their high, moaning at the incredible pleasure you were giving each other. After a moment, you pulled your hand away and Hoseok did the same. You both rolled onto your backs and at the same time, muttered, “Wow.”

You both burst into giggles, quickly getting up to clean up the mess you made. 

Namjoon had been calling you for the last fifteen minutes and he was starting to get worried. It was only 4 o’clock in the afternoon, you shouldn’t be sleeping, and it was Saturday so you weren’t at work. He had finished practice about thirty minutes ago and was hoping you’d want to get dinner, but he couldn’t reach you.

He decided to head to your place to ease his worry, though he was sure you were fine. That’s what he was telling himself anyway. 

When Namjoon got to your apartment he knocked a few times and then waited for you to answer. He was expecting to hear you bounding across the living room to answer the door, like you usually did. You never were light on your feet. But after a couple minutes, he didn’t hear anything. Now he was really starting to worry. Namjoon gave another courtesy knock before punching in your keycode and opening your door. 

A sigh of relief came as soon as he rounded the corner of your living room and saw you asleep on the couch. The relief turned into something else though at your current condition. There you were, sprawled out on your couch, in nothing but a towel, moaning in your sleep. It looked like you had gotten out of the shower and immediately fell asleep in front of the TV. You looked like you were in a deep sleep, having a wet dream, if the moaning was anything to go by. Namjoon felt bad for a moment, idly wondering if you were overworking yourself, before his cock started twitching in his sweats at the thought of your naked body under that thin fabric. 

Quietly, Namjoon made his way across the living room and kneeled down in front of your body. He reached out and softly ran his knuckles against your exposed collarbone, noticing you were a little cold. He leaned over your body placing soft kisses along your decollete and neck. He ran his knuckles up your neck and tangled them in your hair, gently kissing your cheek and nose. 

“Baby girl,” he whispered into your neck, “c’mon baby, let’s go to your bed.”

You stirred slightly as his words, furrowing your brow. He knew you were starting to come to, so he reached under your body and scooped you up bridal style. Swiftly, he stood from the floor and walked down the short hallway to your bedroom. When he crossed the threshold of your room, you warily blinked your eyes open. “Joonie?” Your voice was rough from sleep and it only turned Namjoon on more. 

“I’m here baby,” he said softly, setting you down on your bed, “you smell so good,” he murmured as he climbed on top of you, resuming his kissing. 

“Joon, baby, what’s gotten into you,” you giggled breathily as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You,” he growled, running his hand down your side, effectively opening the towel you were wrapped in, “You’ve been a naughty girl, having wet dreams. Were you thinking about touching yourself? Hmm?”

You blushed at the sudden reminder of the dream you were just woken up from. You were, actually, touching yourself in the dream and you chose to voice that to Namjoon, causing him to groan into your chest where his lips were now traveling.

“Are you supposed to touch yourself without permission, baby girl?”

“No, Joonie,” you whimpered, “I’m sorry.”

“Mm,” he tsked, “I bet you are, baby.”

You could feel the slick growing between your thighs, your nakedness doing nothing to stop it from sticking to your thighs. Namjoon reached down and cupped your heat, one finger gathering up your wetness before pressing into you slowly. “Mmm, Joonie!”

“Is this what you were dreaming about, baby girl? Want me to fill you up?”

“Y- yes,” you moaned at the feeling of his finger curling up into your g-spot, “please.”

Namjoon sat up, keeping the rhythm of his finger in your cunt, and with his free hand pushed his sweats down until his weeping cock sprung out. You moaned at the sight, clenching down onto his finger, making him smirk at you. You licked your lips as you watched a bead of  precum drip from Namjoon’s tip onto your pubic bone. 

“You want my cock?” You nodded quickly, biting into your bottom lip, “beg.”

“Please Joon, please fuck me. I need you cock!” You whined, eyes screwing shut as he added a second finger, scissoring you open, prepping you to take his member.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he growled, pulling his digits from you and slipping his long cock through your folds, gathering up your arousal, “this cock will fuck you better than any dream.”

Namjoon slid himself into your hot cunt, bottoming out and tapping your cervix. You let out a lewd groan at the feeling as he gave you a moment to adjust. “Ok?” He asked and you nodded eagerly.

As soon as you gave him the go ahead, Joon started ramming his cock into you with abandon, hitting all the right places inside you. You screamed out in pleasure and Namjoon leaned over you, placing hot, open mouthed kissing along your breasts and neck, sucking gently and leaving light purple marks. You wrapped your legs around his hips and he fucked into you again and again. 

“Joon! J- Joon I’m close,” you moaned, “please!”

“I got you, baby girl,” he reached down, two fingers drawing quick figure eights into your neglected clit, “cream my cock, baby.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Ecstasy washed over you and you clamped down on your boyfriend’s thick cock, cumming so hard your vision goes black for a moment. When you come down from your high, Namjoon’s hips are stuttering as he sucks on the skin of your chest, following close behind you. As his hips still you feel his white hot release empty into your cunt, painting your walls white. You moan at the delicious feeling before he’s pulling back to look into your eyes. “I love you, YN,” he sighs out, letting his sweaty forehead rest on yours.

“I love you too, Joonie.”

“What do you think she’s dreaming about?” Jungkook whispered softly into his boyfriend’s ear. 

Jimin looked at his younger boyfriend, smirking, “You, probably.”

A bunny grin spread across Jungkook’s face at the elder’s admission. You had decided to stay over at their apartment tonight, a last minute decision because of the thunderstorm outside. You had just joined Jimin and Jungkook’s relationship a few months ago and you were trying to take things slow, but it was becoming increasingly hard with the looks they were starting to give you on a daily basis. All you could think about was Jungkook tonight, thoughts completely erased, other than those of your younger boyfriend’s thighs in those tight leather pants he was wearing. You were losing your damn mind. So when Jimin suggested you lay down on the couch to watch a movie, you were happy to oblige, willing to do anything to get your mind off Jungkook. Not that it was wrong to want your own boyfriend, but you were taking things slow!

“Did you see the way she was staring at you all night?” Jimin asked the curly haired man. 

Their whispered conversation was interrupted when from the other couch, you started moaning lewdly. Both men lightly gasped at the sound, looking at each other cautiously. Jimin eyed the younger’s crotch when he saw a twitch out of the corner of his eye. “I know I couldn’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispered to Jungkook. 

The bunny boy bit his lip and grabbed the back of Jimin’s head, crashing their lips together. For a few minutes, they made out on the loveseat, until they were once again interrupted by your loud moaning, except when they looked over this time, you were sitting up, staring at them with flushed cheeks. 

“Want to join, little dove?” Jimin asked sweetly, making Jungkook smirk at you. Despite your embarrassment of being caught, you nodded your head quickly, pursing your lips together. Jimin reached his hand out towards you as you cautiously stood from the couch and made your way towards your two boyfriends, “Come here,” Jimin whispered as you took his hand. He pulled you onto his lap, effectively sandwiching you in between him and Jungkook. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t thoroughly enjoy it. 

Jungkook ran the back of his knuckles along your cheek and Jimin’s hand roamed your thighs and hips, “What do you want, love?” Jungkook whispered in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. You shivered a bit, making both men chuckle. 

“You,” you started before realizing your words, “both of you.”

“You have us, sweet girl,” Jimin said, making you turn to him, his gaze fiery, “what do you want us to do to you?”

His words sent a pang of arousal straight to your core and you could feel yourself growing wetter than you already were. Curse your brain melting at the thought of Jungkook. His leather pants had caused you to dream about riding his thick thighs and you were dripping at the thought. You murmured something that didn’t reach either of the men’s ears.

“What was that, love?” Jungkook asked, running his hand through your tangled hair.

“I want you to fuck me,” you rushed out, looking down at your lap, but not before you caught sight of both of your boyfriends hard cocks, straining against their pants, “please,” you whimpered, tongue no longer filtering your thoughts, “please fuck me.”

Jungkook and Jimin shared a knowing look before Jungkook scooped you up bridal style and made his way down the hallway to their shared bedroom with Jimin trailing closely behind him. Jungkook gently tossed you onto the bed before climbing over top of you, kissing all the way up your chest and neck until he reached your lips, hands roaming over your stomach until one rested on your clothed core. “Are you sure, love?” He asked you, eyes searching yours for any hesitation. When he found none and you nodded your head, he quickly slid your shorts and panties off your legs. Taking in your glistening cunt for the first time he let out a groan, cupping his cock through his pants. “You’re fucking beautiful, YN.”

You blushed at his words before you noticed Jimin climbing onto the bed next to your head. When you turned to look at him, you noticed he was completely nude, cock hard, the tip red and oozing precum. The sight had you licking your lips and squeezing your thighs together. Jimin smirked down at you as he grabbed his dick, languidly stroking as you looked back to the younger. “Can you take me while you suck Jimin off, baby?”

You nodded quickly, feeling yourself grow wetter at the thought. Jungkook let his fingers run up your slit, gathering your arousal, before plunging two fingers into your needy cunt. “Ah!” You yelped at the intrusion, before you felt the tip of Jimin’s cock pushing at your cheek, urging you to take him in your mouth. You turned your head, licking at the tip of his cock, reveling in his taste. “God, little dove, your mouth is amazing,” he moaned, still stroking his cock. You reach forward with one hand, wrapping it around his girthy length, languidly stroking as you take him in your mouth, “ah! Ah!” He gasps. You moan around his dick as Jungkook adds a third finger to your dripping hole.

“Such a pretty pussy, Jimin,” the younger laments to his boyfriend, “can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock, love.”

You moaned at the younger’s words, the feeling making Jimin twitch in your mouth. “Oh my - YN you feel so good,” Jimin’s moans were getting louder, spurring you on. 

Before you knew it, Jungkook’s fingers were slipping out of you and in their place, was the tip of his rock hard length. As he sheathed himself in your heat, your eyes rolled back in your head, relishing in the feeling of being filled by two cocks. It was lewd, it was fulfilling your deepest fantasies, and you were already so close to cumming. 

“God, she’s so tight Jimin-ie,” Jungkook moaned as he bottomed out, giving you a moment to adjust, “you have to feel her.”

“I will Jungkook-ie, her mouth is amazing too. So warm, wet,” you moaned around his cock at the praise. 

Once the three of you found you rhythm, Jungkook started fucking into your cunt while Jimin used your mouth to chase his high. At some point, Jimin leaned over you and started toying with your swollen clit, only heightening your pleasure. Jimin was the first to finish, cumming down your throat, and you followed closely behind, cumming hard around Jungkook’s cock.

Jungkook was the last to come, cock buried deep in your pussy while Jimin played with his balls. Jungkook leaned over you, completely spent, placing a loving kiss on your soft lips, before leaning over and doing the same to Jimin. 

“You’re amazing YN,” Jungkook whispers against your lips.

“I agree, little dove,” Jimin says against your neck, placing light kisses there. 

“So are you two,” you sigh, causing both of them to laugh, “you both make me so happy.”

Jungkook and Jimin share another knowing look before their eyes land back on you, “We love you, YN.”

You and Taehyung were like a match made in heaven. You both had the same interests and liked the same things. You even liked the same foods and drinks, which was great, it made grocery shopping a breeze.

Another thing you both agreed on and shared, were your kinks. You are both pretty open to most things in the bedroom and have experimented with your fair share of kinks before. One of these kinks that you both find arousing, is somnophilia. 

You had tried it on multiple occasions, him waking you up with sex, or you waking him up with a blowjob. It was a mutual understanding that you had, that if either of you was feeling horny while the other was asleep, you were ok with the other initiating sex, assuming you weren’t on your period and Taehyung wasn’t working on a comeback.

Tonight, neither of those restrictions came into play as Taehyung arrived home from dinner with the boys to find you asleep in bed. He had had a couple of drinks, not enough to be drunk, but enough to feel horny. Taehyung was planning on waking you up to see if you were up for a quickie before he fell asleep, but when he got closer to the bed, he realized you were moaning lightly in your sleep. Taehyung’s eyes went wide as he took in your furrowed brow, the look of pleasure on your face. If he was horny before, he was about to combust now. 

Slowly making his way over to the side of the bed he pulled back the covers and nearly had a heart attack and the sight of your nude body, hand between your legs, a finger lightly pushing into your already swollen bud. Taehyung thought he was dreaming at such a lewd sight, it sent him spiraling into a hole of lust he couldn’t get out of if he tried. 

Trying his best to not make a sound, he slipped out of his pants, then his shirt, throwing them into the hamper. Completely naked, dick already half mast, Taehyung climbed on top of you, leaning down to take one of your already pert nipples into his mouth. You moaned as his hot mouth devoured you, a hand snaking down to push your hand from your clit, his own pointer finger taking its place. He groaned against your chest at the slick feeling of his finger rolling over your bud. 

You began to stir and Taehyung’s ministrations, only causing him to become a little rougher. “Tae?” It was meant to be a question, but it came out as a breathy moan. Taehyung popped off your breast and looked up at you, finger still rubbing figure eights into your pulsing clit. “Tae,” that one came out as a straight moan, making him smirk. 

“Hey baby,” he grunted, moving two fingers into your slit making you gasp, “were you waiting for me?”

“Mmm,” you mumbled, eyes closing at the immense pleasure between your legs, “yeah, was thinking about you all night, couldn’t help myself.”

Taehyung gasped, mock offense on his face, “You touched yourself? You dirty girl.”

“Mmm,” you moaned against his mouth as he slotted his lips against yours, “please, Tae.”

“Please what, doll?” 

“Please fuck me,” he couldn’t say no to that.

Slowly, Tae pulled his slicked fingers from your cunt, bringing them up to your mouth. You opened obediently, sucking lewdly on his digits pulling a growl from his mouth. As he pulled back with a loud ‘pop’, he used your saliva to lubricate his already weeping cock. “Ready for me, baby?”

“Always,” you whimpered as Taehyung entered your warmth, “s’good.”

Taehyung let out a long moan at the feeling of you wrapped around him, finally getting some relief. “God, I’ve wanted you all night,” he whispered, pulling his hips back and slamming back into you, making your body jump up the bed a bit. 

“Wanted you s-so bad Tae Tae,” you murmured, eyes closing and head falling back.

Tae grabbed both your thighs, spreading your legs as he rolled his hips against yours. He leaned back a bit, leaning down and letting a glob of saliva fall from his lips, landing directly on your clit. The cold feeling made you jerk back, but he tightened his grip on your legs, holding you in place. Quickly he reached down and started circling your hardened nub, just like he knew you liked. 

“Ah- ah, Tae!” You mewled, back arching off the bed as shockwaves rolled through your body. Taehyung never let up, fucking you through it. He followed closely behind you, hips jerking into you, warm cum filling you up. 

“God, doll, you’re so fucking hot.” Tae leaned down and pressed his lips to yours before resting his forehead on your shoulder. You wrapped both arms around him as you both caught your breath, “I need sleep,” he mumbled, pulling a light laugh from you.

Jungkook was tossing and turning in bed tonight, not able to fall asleep. He was worried about their upcoming comeback and had been feeling really stressed lately. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he rolled over so he was facing your back. His eyes narrowed as your sleeping form. He wasn’t mad at you, per se. He was just upset you could fall asleep so easily. 

Just as Jungkook was about to roll over again, he heard noises coming from your side of the bed. He stopped breathing for a second as he listened closely. He could hear little breathy gasps coming from you and upon closer inspection it looked like you were… shivering? Were you cold?

Jungkook instinctively scooted closer to you, about to pull you into his arms, when you let out an unmistakable loud moan. He immediately froze, hand in the air, ready to reach for you. Should he wake you? He was internally debating when he heard it again. “K-kook,” you moaned.

“Baby?” He whispered, not sure if you were awake or not. When he didn’t get an answer, he wrapped his arms gently around you, placing his head on your shoulder. “Honey?” He let his hand travel down your arm and to your thighs, trying to rouse you. His hand roamed over your front, trailing down your arm, finally reaching your hand, which was clenched tightly between your legs, pushing against your clothed core. Jungkook’s cock twitched in his pants at the mental image of you touching yourself to him in your sleep. Was he actually sleeping and having some sort of fantasy fulfillment dream? 

You started to stir a bit, rolling towards him, making him back up slightly to give you room. As you turned in his arms, he saw you slowly blinking your eyes open. “Kookie?” Your breath hitched in your throat when your eyes focused and you saw the lust in your boyfriend’s eyes. 

“Dreaming of me, honey?” Your normally sweet, bunny boyfriend teased. 

You flushed at his accusation because it was definitely true. You were just having an amazing dream of him between your legs, getting you off with his sensual tongue. As you were having flashbacks to the dream, you felt Jungkook’s hand snake down your front and into your panties, fingers quickly finding your clit.

“So wet for me,” he mewled, “want me to help you out, baby?”

You nodded your head, whimpering as his fingers spread your lower lips, spreading your juices around your needy pussy. “Use your words, honey,” he husked.

“Want your fingers, Kook,” you whined. Without warning he slipped two fingers into your heat, stroking your g-spot over and over, “Kook!”

“Mmm,” he moaned, grabbing one of your hands and bringing it to his clothed erection, “help me out?”

You happily obliged, pushing his sweat pants down his thighs, allowing his hard cock to spring free. You rubbed your thumb over his slit, gathering the precum that had pooled there and used it to slowly jerk him off. His lips ghosted over your forehead and you worked his long dick. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” he whined, voice cracking slightly, “don’t stop.”

You weren’t going to, working him through his orgasm as his hips stuttered, hot cum spilling over your hand. Jungkook’s fingers momentarily stopped moving inside you, but once he came down from his high, quickly picked up their pace again. “I love you, baby,” he whispered, fingers coming all the way out of your pussy to lewdly rub against your clit for a second before plunging back in. It was driving you insane. It wasn’t long before fire was pooling in your lower abdomen. You came hard around your boyfriend’s fingers, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids and the slow and languid pace he was stick fingering you with. “Ah, ah too much!” You whined, making him smirk and slowly pull his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his mouth and sucking your juices off of them. 

“That was so hot, baby,” you nodded your head in agreement, sleepy post-orgasm feeling taking over, “I think I can finally fall asleep now,” he mumbled, letting out a big yawn. 

[creativeashproductions]

Shattered Hearts // Luke Patterson

Summary: The teenage years are supposed to the best time of life but not when fate has other plans for Sunset Curve. Not feeling well reader stays home while Luke prepares for the performance of his life at The Orpheum. Shit hits the fan hard and the fallout ensues.

Warnings: Swearing, death, hospital, cancer (type is not detailed) angst, and fluff.

Words: 2.3k

Requested: @lolychu​

A/N: I didn’t go into detail about the kind of cancer because I didn’t want to, I want it to be as general as it could. I’ve never gone through it or had someone close go through it so it could be wrong and I apologize for that. Broken heart syndrome is REAL by the way.

Masterlist

Los Angeles, 1995

There are articles of some medical mysteries that can’t fully be scientifically explained, such as when someone dies in excellent health following the death of a loved one. The scientific term is takotsubo cardiomyopathy, but the world knows it merely by Broken Heart Syndrome. It was a day that was supposed to be the greatest of your teenage years, but the day couldn’t have gone any worse.

First, you woke up with an incredibly high fever and newfound bruises. Pain in a wrist out of nowhere but you wrote it off. You had plans, and illness wasn’t scheduled for the day. Your boyfriend and his band had gotten their big break, well their almost big break. Today was the day Sunset Curve would perform at The Orpheum, and you were gonna be backstage cheering them on.

Luke made his appearance at your house in the morning before early rehearsal, and you managed to convince him you were feeling okay. He went on to their studio, and your mother drove you to the hospital in fear.

Life was an asshole. While you waited for test results pale against the hospital sheets, an ambulance rolled in. Carrying three bodies that would go to the morgue for positive confirmation of death. You wouldn’t know for a full day, Luke’s parents too grief-stricken to call you and that’s okay. 

“Mom?” You asked as her form caved in on the floor near your hospital bed, “Mom!”

Her eyes filled with so much pain brought you fear and concern. With a struggle, she came closer to hold your hand tightly and spoke brokenly the fate that would snatch you.

“Baby, you don’t have the flu.”

“That’s good? So just meds and we can go home?” You asked heart clenching as her eyes closed tight and you knew whatever the doctor had told her after pulling her out of the room wasn’t good.

Couldn’t be good with the slump in her shoulders, the pain in her eyes and the guilt coating her every word. Mom wasn’t a housewife; she wasn’t a flower in need of protection, but she never kept something from you. Always said it straight and as it is.

“Sweetheart, they’re gonna move you to another ward.” You knew deep in your heart the news had to be the worst because Mom wasn’t telling you the whole story. Finally, she broke down, “The doctors got the results back as soon as they could. The fever, the bruises, and the broken wrist have a reason. You have cancer.”

Cancer. A word that sealed your fate. It left you reeling in shock. It shattered your dream with just one single name. Couldn’t be seen but made its presence known. The coming hour was spent with the specialist detailing the type and a tentative treatment plan he wanted to initiate immediately.

A nurse escorted your mother out as the orderlies and nurses prepped you to be moved to a new room. Knowing you were in good hands, your mom walked to the main doors for fresh air only to be astounded at the sight of Mitch and Emily Patterson. Equally shocked, they came together.

“Emily?” Your mom spoke, looking carefully at the parents of your boyfriend. She wondered how the Patterson’s had found out, “Did someone call you?”

“No.” Emily spoke with a numb voice. Your mom took a step back, understanding that one could only react that way for one thing. Something had happened to the Patterson teenager.

 “Luke isn’t here, is he?” Your mom asked, turning to look up at the tall building of the hospital, “Y/N, hasn’t had a phone. She only found out, but Luke hasn’t been with you-“

“The cops came,” Mitch spoke tucking his upset wife into his arms. He was equally as grief-stricken and bitter, but he had to be calm for his wife. They wouldn’t get anywhere if one of them couldn’t get answers.

Your mom gasped, “No.”

“I always knew that band-“Emily’s own sob cut her words off as her knees threatened to buckle. Your mom helped lead Emily into the emergency room before she jogged off to join you but not before turning to the Patterson parents.

“We’ll meet up. Discuss why we’re all here.” 

Being told you had cancer and then informed your boyfriend died all in one night was the most painful thing you had to live through. It was weeks of screaming, invasive procedures and therapy sessions. Your father came from his business trip to Dubai as soon as he could and didn’t leave your side.

A painful six months rolled with cancer stealing your hopes and a fucking bad hotdog taking your dreams away. Nothing made you curious. Nothing felt worth living for.

Not the realistic watercolour tattoo your parents let you get of Luke’s blue guitar you loved so much. It seemed to have a terminally sick child made it practically impossible to say no to, so you got a tattoo of your favourite lyrics of Sunset Curve.

In pretty font, it said ‘When all the days felt black and white. Those were the best shades of my life’ just like it said in Now or Never. One of your favourite songs, you got the privilege of watching Luke create.

“Mom, can I have a popsicle?” You asked from your bed. Eyes barely open as she nodded off her chair, “My mouth is dry.”

“Of course.” She nodded, leaving the room with a kiss on your forehead. Both of you mumbling I love you just in case. You felt like your clock was close to the end, so every word had meaning.

It was a good day so far; you hadn’t had to press for more pain medication like the last couple of weeks. You had managed to turn to stare out the window at the pretty sky. Your eyes fluttered shut completely content that this was it.

Your mom returned to a room with doctors and nurses trying to resuscitate you with your father screaming. No one could figure out if it was the cancer or the broken heart syndrome that killed you first. Your death was a double blow to Luke’s parents the most, along with Reggie and Alex’s own parents. 

Los Angeles, 2020

So much had changed since you died in 1995. Phones had changed, and buildings were torn down. You changed as well too. In relief physically, you had changed from the gaunt, skinny, pale patient to the girl you had been before the diagnosis.

Your hair now looked as healthy as it had been before you had cancer and you weren’t gaunt looking. You were looked just like you did a few months before you got diagnosed and you hoped so since you were dead. It would have sucked to be dead and beyond ugly.

“Do you think she went on to have a family?”

You kept your attention on the waves crashing the beach content to watch the waves doing the same movement they had since the beginning. You paid no attention to the group walking by. Not until one tripped over you landing in an awkward heap.

“Ouch!” The voice hissed. Your eyes flicked down to Reginald fucking Hastings’s blue eyes in pure shock. You scrambled away from the teenager with a sharp scream that pierced the ghoul group.

“Jesus.” You grumbled pushing the little sand that had stuck somehow to your body made of air.

“Oh my god. I think I just summoned Luke’s girlfriend.” Reggie hissed towards the equally astounded members of former Sunset Curve and current Julie and the Phantoms bandmates.

“No, you idiot we’re dead.” You spoke, taking a deep breath in, “After not seeing you for five years I thought you passed on. I’ve been travelling around America and Canada. Something felt like I needed to come home.”

“When did you die?” Alex questioned sadly when you were quiet. His sad blue eyes unable to leave your expressive face, he hoped somehow you had lived to your 90s and died to come back youthful.

“It’s wasn’t harm-“

“No, Luke. I don’t think I’ll ever positively know what happened, but the night you guys died my life ended as well.” You revealed sitting back, letting the three boys join you for an intriguing story to them. Luke wasn’t hesitant in grasping your hand in his, “Funny enough your bodies were being unloaded in the morgue while I was being told by my Mom, I had cancer. The battle was hard but short.”

“Cancer?”

“Our love story was destined to be tragic, whether it be cancer or a hotdog.” You told the teenage guitarist to experience in the afterlife to be gentle about it. The three boys flinched from the indifference, “Have you visited your parents yet? My parents are home for a few weeks.”

“My neighbourhood was torn down. Alex doesn’t know about his and-“ 

“-I’ve seen my folks once so far.” Luke finished playing with your fingers, “You say our love story was tragic, I say it would be tragic if we hadn’t had the chance in life that we did.”

You nodded your head, “Where have you guys been?”

All three boys took their chaotic turn in describing their last meal to Reggie tripping over you with the belief of walking through you. They were in a band with a lifer who made them visible to the public when playing music together. You told them that your parents would choose a destination from your dream travel journal; you would follow them on the adventures.

Slowly you met Julie who put up a distance as she acclimated to having the girlfriend of her crush around always. Julie couldn’t help the feeling of jealously when Luke focused on the teen ghost girl. She couldn’t even hate you! You were so lovely and welcoming to the girl with respect for boundaries, in fact, you were exactly the girl she would have been friends with. Julie loved Flynn, but she could be over the top and dramatic sometimes.

“Good rehearsal. I’ll meet you outside.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. You nodded before walking through the white, painted barn doors.

Everything put away properly; Luke was quick to meet up with his girlfriend for their date. Alex noticed the stare by Julie. He had seen it for the past few weeks since you were introduced to the passionate musician with a beautiful voice.

“I’m really sorry, Julie.” Alex softly told the sad Puerto Rican girl yearning to hug the teenager but alas his ghostly body couldn’t allow it.

“Did I have an honest chance before she came back?” Julie asked. Her doe brown eyes bringing Reggie’s attention to the conversation at hand. 

“No.” Reggie answered this time solemn with his blue eyes holding no mirth or childlike glee, “Luke’s been in love with her for years. She’s his all or nothing.”

“I didn’t have a chance between them, and I don’t want you between them either. It’s not a nice place to be even if I was mutually breaking up with his as well.” Alex soothed the live girl yearning to physically comfort her but alas that damn hotdog ruined everything.

“Luke also said when the first big payment came, he would marry her. He wanted to give her the wedding of her dreams.” Reggie unintentionally rubbed the salt in Julie’s wound on the topic of her tragic love story.

Julie learnt to deal with the pain of seeing Luke, so in love and happier than before you had reconnected. In her fashion, she had hidden a new box for her thoughts that was so well hidden the boys would never find it. It was filled with papers that progressively got less romance angst.

“I’m just saying,” Alex spoke, raising his hands in the air after another one of Luke’s emotional rants on the loss of things in death. Such as marrying you.

“Dude, we’re dead, and our ghost connections happen to either be our band, Willie or a very questionable sketchy vintage magician.” Luke snapped slouching on his couch sulking as you were spending time with your family no matter how oblivious they were to your presence.

“I’m ordained.” Willie supplied sitting next to the blonde drummer who had easily swayed from Caleb to the good side again. At the group’s looks of disbelief, he continued, “I was bored! Took some art classes too. It won’t be the average wedding, but you could still call each other spouse.”

“I can check local clubs for wedding dresses. Flynn can easily put together music and Alex can find a venue.” Julie piped up, avoiding the sympathetic look from Reggie, who still thought the teenager had feelings for his bandmate. She no longer did. 

“You can use one of your rings on a chain as well. Maybe hold off on getting a ring until we get money from the band.” Reggie gave his input, earning himself a proud expression from Alex; an expression the drummer rarely was able to give his friend.

“I guess I’m proposing.” Luke beamed already thinking of ways to make his proposal special, not like being ghosts wasn’t already impressive enough. 

It wasn’t the ideal wedding, but it honestly didn’t matter as long as the two of you were able to vow yourself to each other. It no longer mattered on the details other than you two.

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[omgjasminesimone]

The Moments in Between

Dakota x MC

Word Count: ~3,800

A/N: Accompanies my fic Life Goes On, set in the missing ten years.

High School Graduation

Dakota tears his eyes away from the view outside his hospital window when he hears the distinctive sound of Sage’s favorite high heels approaching his door.

He smiles when he gets his first glimpse of her in her graduation regalia. “Wow Teach, you look great. Congratulations, graduate.” This is also his first time seeing her new hair extensions. Now that his hair is starting to grow back, Sage is back to her usual hairstyle.

Sage smiles, bounding her way over to his bed and tucking herself under his arm. “Congratulations to you too, Dakota. I have your diploma.” She reaches for her bag that she’s dropped on the floor, pulling out his framed diploma and handing it over reverently.

“Can’t believe I’m a high school graduate now.” Dakota reveals, reading the diploma closely. He assumes had he been well enough to attend the graduation ceremony, it would have felt more real.

“There are very few people who could complete all their senior year assignments and exams while fighting cancer. I’m so proud of you Dakota.” Sage praises, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m proud of you. It’s incredible how you managed school and my cancer.” Dakota insists.

Sage shrugs, nuzzling into his neck. “It was no biggie. I had a very cozy seat on the sideline.” She quips.

Dakota frowns, tearing his eyes away from his diploma to look at his girlfriend. “You know I didn’t mean that. I would never have gotten through this without you, Sage.”

Sage smiles, placing a sweet peck to his lips. “I know. I just like to bring that up every so often so you’ll tell me how much you love me.”

Dakota chuckles, shaking his head fondly. “I love you a lot, Sage.”

“I love you too Dakota.” She gives him another kiss, gently taking his diploma from him to place on the side table. “I missed you today. I’m sorry you had to miss your graduation.” Sage laments.

“I was hoping to be out of here by today, but it’s okay. The transplant almost failing really put things in perspective. I’m just grateful to be alive. Universe willing, hopefully I’ll get to attend college graduation.”

“You will. I know it. You’re a fighter Dakota.”

“You give me something to fight for, Teach.”

...

Discharged

Dakota can’t miss the arrival of his friends and girlfriend as they loudly come down the Edenbrook hallway, arguing the whole way.

“I can’t believe you like Alec. God, he’s the absolute worst. I can’t wait for him to get voted off Survivor.” Lennox insists.

“I love Alec! And I don’t think he’s a suck up, he’s just friendly.” Mateo insists.

“No, the friendly thing is totally an act Mateo. But I do respect Alec’s game. The point is to outwit and outplay.” Sage counters as the group enters Dakota’s room.

Sage’s whole face lights up when she spots Dakota, in his normal clothes instead of a hospital gown. She practically flies across the room, launching herself into his arms. “Happy discharge day!” She exclaims.

Dakota laughs, hugging her back tightly and giving her a quick kiss. Even though he purposely kept it chaste, Lennox pretends to gag anyway. “Thanks for coming guys. But Teach, don’t you have midterms?”

“Like we’d miss this! Dakota Winchester, finally getting out of Edenbrook. It’s like my baby bird finally leaving the nest.” Mateo teases.

Sage nods in agreement with Mateo. “Nothing could have kept me from being here today. And my professors were all very understanding. They’re letting me take make up exams this weekend.”

“You guys are the best.” Dakota insists, turning back to the bag he was packing before his friends arrived.

“Where are your parents?” Lennox asks, taking a seat on Dakota’s bed.

“Dropping off gift baskets for all the doctors who kept me alive. They really went all out on the one for your mom, Sage. Almost like it’s a...dowry or something.” Dakota reveals.

“Your parents must know that I’d happily marry their Kody, no dowry needed.” Sage quips.

“Aww.” Mateo says at the same time Lennox gripes “Ugh.”

“Good to know.” Dakota returns, winking at Sage. He zips up his bag, and looks around the room. “I think that’s everything.”

Sage slips her hand into his. “Ready to get out of here?”

Dakota squeezes her hand. “Very ready.”

A group of hospital staff are waiting just outside his room to wish him farewell.

“Do I get to ring the discharge bell?” Dakota asks his oncologist after saying his goodbyes.

“That’s usually just a thing for the kids, Dakota.” The doctor informs him.

“What?! But I was really looking forward to it! Plus, you know I’m a child at heart.” Dakota counters.

“....fine.” The oncologist gives in easily.

Dakota grins widely, squeezing Sage’s hand in excitement.

“I think I’ve got a new nickname for you, man child.” Lennox suggests.

“Nothing you say can ruin this for me, Len.” Dakota retorts as he happily makes his way over to the bell. He hands Sage his phone. “Can you record this for me, beautiful?”

Sage nods, stepping back to get him in frame. “Say, cancer free!” Sage chimes.

“Cancer free!” Dakota parrots, vigorously ringing the discharge bell.

...

College Visits

“And this is the quad! My favorite spot on campus.” Sage informs him, leading him by the hand through the Massachusetts State campus.

Dakota is recording on his phone, like always, so Sage does a little twirl for him under a cherry blossom tree. “Beautiful.” Dakota says, and Sage can’t be sure if he means the campus, or herself.

He’s trying to hide that he’s a little out of breath, but Sage can read him like a book. “I’ve made you walk too much. Here, let’s take a seat. How are you feeling?” Sage asks as she leads Dakota over to a bench.

She looks guilty, so he gives her his most reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Teach. I’ve been feeling good, and all my lab results have been good lately. My doctors think I should be able to start college in the Fall, as planned.” He’s cautiously optimistic that he won’t relapse. He’s still a little tired, and weak, but not like before he got the news his Cancer was back. Once he’s done with his 3-4 times a week outpatient visits to Edenbrook, it will be like he’s a normal young adult again. 

Sage nods, swinging her legs over his lap as she rests her head on his shoulder. “That’s so good to hear, I know how excited you are for film school. Although I’m really going to miss you when you’re further than a car ride away. But, on the bright side, I can come out to visit you in LA when the Boston weather gets completely miserable.”

“Actually Sage, I’ve been thinking about it. And moving all the way across the country from my support system and my doctors might not be the best plan right now.”

Sage frowns, looking up at him. “But your dream school is in LA.”

“You’re my dream Sage. And there are plenty of great film schools in New York. And New York is just a 4 hour bus ride away.”

“And you’re sure that’s what you want?” Sage asks, trying not to give away just how much she would love to have him closer for the next 4 years.

“Cross my heart.” Dakota lets out a little ‘hmph’ when Sage hugs him so tightly he can barely breathe. She immediately loosens her excited hold.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I love you Sage.”

“I love you too.” She seals her words with a passionate kiss, that leaves him more out of breath than all that walking earlier.

But it’s worth it.

...

New York City

Sage enters their small studio apartment, located in one of the seedier parts of Brooklyn since that’s all they can afford on her salary, with a loud sigh. “I hate my boss.” She complains to Dakota.

He turns away from whatever he’s editing to look at her. “Another bad day?”

Sage nods miserably, and Dakota pats his lap. Sage crosses the small room in just a few steps, parking herself sideways on her boyfriend’s lap. She makes herself cozy, loosely wrapping her arms around his waist. She glances at the computer screen as he drops a kiss to the top of her head. “Is this your final project you refuse to show me?”

Still images of Edenbrook flood the editing software. “Yeah. I filmed a lot when I was sick. When Mateo was sick. To keep myself busy. Some of the clips were really compelling. So now, my final project is a documentary about Edenbrook.”

“You’re branching out from ghost movies?” Dakota’s previous school projects have all been horror films.

“In a way, it’s still a ghost movie. Gracie is heavily featured, and other friends I lost.” Dakota reveals.

“Will you play me a Gracie clip?” Sage asks tentatively, not sure she can even handle it.

Dakota drags his mouse back until Gracie’s face fills the screen, pressing play.

Dakota ends up letting her watch the entire 40 minute film. Tears are welling in Sage’s eyes by the end. “That was absolutely beautiful Dakota. Sad, but definitely compelling.”

“Thanks. It felt good to make it. Cathartic.” Dakota reveals.

Sage’s eyes skim through the open ‘Edenbrook’ folder on his computer, stopping on a sub folder labeled ‘goodbyes’. “What are those?” Sage wonders aloud.

Dakota looks where’s she pointing, flushing a little. “Oh, those. After the transplant, when I wasn’t feeling the greatest, I recorded goodbye videos for the people I care about most. To send out, you know, if I was gone.”

Sage turns to face him. “Can I watch mine?”

“Sure, if you want to.” Dakota pulls it up, and then attempts to slide Sage off his lap so he can get up. But she shakes her head.

“I’m only going to be able to watch this right here in your arms.” She insists.

Dakota leans back into the office chair, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “Okay.” He presses play.

Sage starts crying almost immediately. Dakota plants soft kisses across her shoulder as she watches, to remind her that he’s here. That he’s fine, and cancer free for almost 4 years now.

Tears are streaming down her face by the end, and she turns around in his lap to press her face into his chest. “Hey, hey, don’t cry Teach.” Dakota pleads, gripping her chin gently and using his thumb to brush tears away from her lash line.

“I can’t believe I almost lost you. I can’t imagine doing life without you Dakota. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Sage. More than you could ever know.” This wasn’t how he was planning to do this, but as he stares into her beautiful, watery eyes, he feels like now is the perfect time. “Want to watch something happy now?”

Sage laughs, wiping at her eyes as she nods. This time, she allows him to slide her off his lap, and he goes to his backpack to pull out a flash drive that he plugs into the computer. When the folder opens, he clicks the video named ‘For Sage’ and presses play.

Sage smiles as the first image comes up, the clip Dakota filmed of her at their high school when they first met. The video continues with clips from the carnival, from hospital dates, from post hospital dates, in Boston, in LA, in New York. There are many clips of her she was unaware he was even filming, doing mundane things no one else would even think to film. It’s all weaved together so beautifully, it tells a story. Their story.

The soundtrack and clips stop suddenly, and cuts to Dakota on the Brooklyn bridge. “Lennox, you’re filming vertically!” On screen Dakota complains, prompting a chuckle from Sage as she watches.

“Don’t forget I’m doing you a favor, man child.” Lennox retorts, but then she repositions the camera horizontally like Dakota wanted.

“Thank you.” On screen Dakota adds. He clears his throat, looking sincerely into the camera. “Sage Woods, I’ve been hopelessly in love with you from the day we met. You’ve stood by me through lows and highs, mostly lows though because you’re an angel, and everyday I’m reminded how lucky I am to be able to call you my girlfriend. But, I’d be even luckier to be able to call you my wife.”

“That’s so cheesy.” Lennox complains from behind the camera.

“Len, come on. I’m gonna have to edit all this out!” Dakota complains on screen before dropping to one knee.

That’s where the video ends, and when Sage quickly turns her wide eyes to Dakota beside her, he’s on one knee with a diamond ring. “I hadn’t gotten around to editing the Brooklyn Bridge footage yet, but-“

“Yes!” Sage exclaims, dropping to her knees beside him and capturing his lips in a fierce kiss.

“I didn’t.... get to ....finish asking.” Dakota murmurs between greedy kisses.

“The answer is still yes.” Sage beams at him when he places the diamond ring on her finger.

God damn, he’s so lucky. 

...

College Graduation

As Dakota sits at graduation waiting for his name to be called, he’s starting to realize missing high school graduation might have been a blessing in disguise. He’s never been so bored.

But when they finally get to the W’s, and the film school Dean calls out ‘Dakota Winchester!’, his parents, Mateo, Lennox, and his stunning fiancé let out the loudest cheers of the entire afternoon, which makes the ceremony endlessly more entertaining.

...

Wedding

“Kody, if you keep drumming your fingers like that, you’re going to put a dent in my table.” His mother playfully complains.

Dakota stops the incessant drumming. “Sorry, I’m just...missing her more than I thought I would.” He admits.

His dad smiles, shaking his head fondly. “It was your bright idea to spend the night before the wedding apart.” He reminds him.

“It’s bad luck for me to see Sage before the wedding!” Dakota insists, to make himself feel less foolish about sleeping alone in his childhood bed tonight.

“Why don’t you call her?” His mother suggests.

“We said we wouldn’t. Hearing her voice would just make me want to drive over to her mom’s house and see her more.” Dakota reveals.

“Well Kody, it’s just 17 more hours until the wedding. After that full month of no contact in the ICU, I think you guys can do it.” His dad adds.

That reminder of the worst month of his life does make Dakota think he can get through just 17 more hours. He nods resolutely as he stares down at the table, internally giving himself a pep talk to avoid reaching for his phone.

 When he finally looks up again, both of his parents have the goofiest grins on. “What?” Dakota asks warily.

His parents share a look before turning back to him. “We’re just...so happy for you Kody. When the doctors told us you wouldn’t make it past 9, we could only think about all the things you wouldn’t get to do. We thought you’d never go to high school, never graduate from college, never have a job, never get married.....” his mom trails off, tears falling down her face.

“Mom, don’t cry.” Dakota pleads, leaning across the table so he can take her hands in his.

“They’re happy tears, Kody. It’s just been such a privilege to get to watch you grow into such a fine young man.” She concludes, standing from the table so she can hug him. His dad gets in on the action too, engulfing both in a warm group hug.

“The three of us are so proud of you Kody.” His dad adds, ruffling his hair affectionately.

“....thanks guys.” Dakota eventually settles on, unable to truly express how grateful he is.

The hours crawl by until it’s finally his wedding day. He’s more nervous than he expected he’d be as he stands at the altar.

“Psst...man child. You’ve got to calm down before you sweat stain your pits.” Lennox whispers from just behind him.

“And this is why Dakota made me the best man instead of you, Len.” Mateo taunts. He places a reassuring hand on Dakota’s shoulder. “No need to be nervous, Dakota. I’m pretty sure Sage wouldn’t leave you at the altar.”

As if in reaction to Mateo’s words, the wedding march starts.

Sage turns the corner, being walked down the aisle by her mother, and Dakota stops breathing for several moments.

She’s so beautiful, and he can’t believe his luck that in a few short moments, he can call her his wife. She smiles at him through her veil, and he smiles back through watery eyes.

...

Video Message

Dakota fiddles with the self timer on his phone, making sure to get Sage, and the London Bridge behind her, focused and in frame. Once he’s satisfied, he leaves the phone where it’s propped up against a building and makes his way over to Sage, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She grins up at him. “Ready?”

“Very ready.” He assures, giving her a little squeeze.

Sage turns back to the camera. “Hi guys! We really wanted to do this in person, but since there’s 4 months left on my London project, we thought video message was the next best thing.”

She turns to her husband. “You can say it.” She informs him with a warm grin.

“Sage is pregnant.” Dakota says into the camera, his smile so big it kind of hurts his cheeks a little.

“We’re pregnant!” Sage chimes, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Dakota’s upturned lips. “It’s still really early so we probably shouldn’t even be saying anything yet-“

“6 weeks.” Dakota interjects.

“But I just really couldn’t keep this news from the people we love most. We don’t know if it’s a boy or girl yet, maybe we can do a zoom gender reveal or something, but either way the baby’s name is going to be Dakota.” Sage explains.

Dakota smiles, dropping a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.” He whispers, low enough so the camera can’t pick it up.

“I love you too.” Sage returns, eyes shining with merriment.

Dakota looks back into the camera. “Alright, so that’s our big news. Can’t wait to see everyone when we’re back in the States. We love you guys.” After Dakota concludes, he makes his way over to the camera, turning it off.

“Are you sending it?” Sage asks, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Just editing out some of the dead space at the beginning and the end first. And maybe adding some underlying music.”

Sage shakes her head, albeit fondly. “Do you ever stop working?” She teases.

“Doesn’t feel like work when you love it.” Dakota insists. “And now....done! Sending it off now.”

Dakota wraps his arms around Sage as she leans back into his embrace. They both gaze out at the London landscape.

It can’t be more than three minutes before Sage’s phone rings. She grins at Dakota. “It’s your parents. Oh, and my mom too on the other line. Let me see if I can do a 3 way call....”

While Sage is fiddling with that, Dakota’s phone starts ringing. He glances at the contact info. “And that’s Len and Mateo.” He informs Sage before answering. “Hey guys.”

He smiles as he’s bombarded with congratulations. He looks towards his wife, who’s gesturing excitedly as she talks to their parents. He reaches for her hand, pulling her into his arms.

He can’t believe how lucky he is.

...

Heart to Heart

“Why are you filming this?” Sage complains, trying to cover her makeup less face. She feels like death, and assumes she must look it too.

“In case I ever need footage of a beautiful woman growing another human being.” Dakota quips, continuing to zoom in on her belly.

“This footage would be more appropriate for a horror movie about a woman having her skin stretched grotesquely.” Sage counters.

Dakota frowns, lifting her shirt to expose her belly and the many new stretch marks marring her skin. “There’s nothing grotesque about any of this, Teach. You’re beautiful, and miraculous.” He insists, planting kisses all over her skin.

“And you’re sweet, but also a liar.” Sage replies, running her fingers through his hair as he starts to murmur sweet nothings to their son.

“I’m gonna miss this belly when baby Dakota shows up in the next few days.” Dakota insists.

“Well, that makes one of us.” Sage retorts.

“You say that now, but once you hold him? See his adorable little face? You’re gonna want another one immediately.” Dakota theorizes.

“Doubt it. I think Dakota here is gonna be an only child. I never want to be pregnant again.” Sage insists.

“He has to have siblings.” Dakota counters.

“Why? We’re both only children. We turned out okay.” Sage defends.

“What if he needs a kidney? Or a bone marrow transplant?” Dakota asks softly, gently rubbing Sage’s belly.

Sage rises up on her elbows so she can look down at her husband. “Babe, are you worried about the baby getting sick?”

“Isn’t that something all parents worry about?”

“Not to the point of planning future spare part babies.” Sage argues.

“That’s not fair.” Dakota counters.

“And it’s not fair what you had to go through as a child, Dakota. And it’s obviously something that’s gonna stay with you. But leukemia isn’t hereditary, babe. You don’t need to worry about passing on defective genes to our baby.” Sage attempts to comfort.

“You don’t know that.” Dakota laments. “I could have more defective genes than just leukemia.”

Sage struggles to force herself into a seated position, and noticing her struggle, Dakota helps her get herself upright.

She slips her hand into his, weaving their fingers together. “Dakota, there’s nothing wrong with this baby-“

“You can’t know-“ Dakota starts to interject, but Sage raises a hand to silence him.

“And if there is something wrong with this baby, that’s something we’ll get through, together.” She squeezes his fingers comfortingly. “Okay?”

“Okay.” He reluctantly agrees after a beat. But then he quickly adds. “But I still want more than one child.”

“We can talk about that after I get this baby out of me.” Sage tries to cut off that subject. 

“Hmm...that sounds like a polite no. But I’m not done with this subject. The world needs more Sage Woods-Winchester in it. At least 3 mini yous.” Dakota insists, his smile growing when Sage can’t help but chuckle. 

“That’s easy for you to say, from your comfy seat on the sideline.” Sage teases. 

Dakota raises a hand to his heart, mock wounded. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Probably not.”

“....Guess I should have died of Cancer when I had the chance.”

“.....That’s not funny Dakota.”

“...It’s a little funny.” Dakota insists, and then he leans forward to kiss Sage’s downturned lips until she’s smiling again.

...

..

A/N: Still wasn’t over With Every Heartbeat, so I had to write this out too. Now I feel better. :)

tags: @shewillreadyou @dakotasteach

[blitzturtles]

Title: Can't Fix Everything

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable (Future Fic)

Pairing(s): JotaHan

Summary: Jotaro frowns when he rings the doorbell and no one answers. It’s not as though he’s unexpected. He and Rohan had discussed this beforehand, but he knows that it’s entirely possible that Rohan got too caught up in his work. That he’s got his eyes glued to the pages with such a hyperfixation that he hadn’t even heard the doorbell going off.

Notes: When I went to write the ‘Flail Chest’ piece, I couldn’t make up my mind if I wanted it to be with Jotaro or Josuke, so here’s the Jotaro version (if it can be called that. Same injury, very different story.) Ngl, kind of frustrated with the end, but I've been sitting on this for a few weeks now.

[Copy and pasted from the Josuke version: Unimportant bit of trivia: the first rib fixation for adolescent flail chest wasn’t actually done until ~2006, but this is fic, so fuck it.

Flail chest: When a section of the chest wall becomes detached due to the ribs being broken in two or more places. The treatment for this can be a wait and see method (with pain management and physical therapy), but there’s also rib fixation, which is a surgical procedure that can help dramatically reduce short and long-term complications.

The rib injury is canon; the extent of it in this fic, not so much.]

-

Jotaro frowns when he rings the doorbell and no one answers. It’s not as though he’s unexpected. He and Rohan had discussed this beforehand, but he knows that it’s entirely possible that Rohan got too caught up in his work. That he’s got his eyes glued to the pages with such a hyperfixation that he hadn’t even heard the doorbell going off. At least, that’s what Jotaro tells himself. How he tries to rationalize the lack of response.

Unfortunately, too many years on this earth-- facing some of the worst creatures to have ever disgraced her surface-- means that Jotaro has a good idea when he’s being pointlessly paranoid and when his ‘gut feeling’ is something to be taken seriously, and he’s feeling the latter right about now.

Star breaks the door’s lock with a particularly nasty twist of the knob. It’s nothing Jotaro can’t fix with a quick trip to the hardware store later, but that doesn’t matter right now.

“Rohan?” He calls into the seemingly empty house. The majority of the lights are off, and there’s no movement. No sound, and it’s far too early for Rohan to consider bed, which means he’s either closed in his studio or gone.

Jotaro makes a beeline for the familiar door that leads to Rohan’s sanctuary. It’s possible Rohan went out on a whim. Impulse control isn’t exactly his strong suit, especially when it might be something related to his manga, but it’s smarter to check the one place Rohan haunts most in life before bothering with anywhere else.

The door is unlocked, which doesn’t necessarily mean anything, though it doesn’t stop Jotaro’s heart from hammering away in his chest. There’s a flash of red across his vision, like a filter of blood, but he shakes it off in favor of taking in the room. He can’t let his past trauma affect him now.

Or maybe he can, because there Rohan is. On the floor, huddled partway beneath his desk. There’s a low whine that accompanies the screwed up features, and it’s all Jotaro needs to know that Rohan is in pain. A significant amount of it.

“Fuck,” Jotaro grinds out. He makes his way to Rohan quickly. Star Platinum itches to freeze time. A natural reaction to walking into an obviously bad situation with little information to work with, but Jotaro won’t waste the opportunity. They might only have one shot to work with, and he can’t waste it before he even knows what he’s walked into.

Carefully, he crouches in front of Rohan, His eyes don’t quite fixate on the mangaka. Instead, he’s too busy taking in their surroundings, searching for a threat.

Rohan startles and yelps. “What the fuck?” He grinds out after the initial shock washes over both of them.

“I could ask you the same thing. What happened?” Jotaro demands. His gaze shifts to Rohan. It’s a raking thing. Slow and deliberate as he searches for any sign of injury. There’s no blood that he can see. No limbs twisted horrifically out of place, and no holes punched where they don’t belong. Jotaro doesn’t allow himself to relax. There’s obviously something wrong; he just hasn’t figured it out yet.

“Ribs,” Rohan breathes out after a moment of hesitation. The mere effort of talking leaves him struggling for air.

Jotaro’s frown deepens, and he tunes out the rest of the world to focus on Rohan.

“Let me see.”

“No.”

“Rohan.”

“Go away.”

“Kishibe,” Jotaro grinds out. He doesn’t have time to put up with Rohan being a toddler when he could have a punctured lung.

“Fine,” Rohan concedes, though doesn’t move.

Jotaro sighs and carefully maneuvers Rohan onto his side. He uses Star’s hands as a cushion between Rohan’s body and the floor. A gentle effort to avoid making the situation worse, and, for once, Jotaro is incredibly thankful for Rohan’s penchant for crop tops. It’s a convenience-- rather than a nuisance and a distraction-- in a time like this.

Slowly, Jotaro pushes the fabric out of the way, and he sucks in a sharp breath out of sympathy the moment he gets an eyeful of the bruising that’s blossomed across Rohan’s side.

“That Stand got you right in that old wound of your’s, huh?” Jotaro asks. He barely resists the urge to reach out and touch the scars hidden underneath the black and blue mess. He’s known about their existence for a while, though Rohan rarely lets him lay eyes on them for more than a few seconds at a time.

There’s three scars in total, and each one runs the length of a rib, starting at Rohan’s sternum and wrapping around midway to his spine. A childhood injury from a freak accident that still causes unnecessary pain.

(”Why not just let Josuke heal you?” Jotaro remembers asking the first time he caught a glimpse of the scars.

“Josuke can’t fix everything,” Rohan had answered, short and irritable.)

Jotaro wonders if Rohan would allow Josuke to help now. If only to take the edge off, but Jotaro will worry about calling his nephew later. For now, he’s more concerned with getting Rohan off the floor and checked over properly. Jotaro hadn’t seen Rohan take a hit, which means that he has no idea how hard it had been or what kind of damage they might be dealing with. There could be internal bleeding, a collapsed lung, or god knows what else. The bruising is extensive enough, and Rohan’s breathing is ragged. Too shallow and a touch uneven.

“What gave you that idea?” Rohan snarls at him, breaking Jotaro out of his thoughts. He forgot how ill-tempered the mangaka is when he’s hurting.

“Good grief,” Jotaro mutters, though he takes it as a positive sign that Rohan’s got enough fight in him to make this as difficult as possible.

As carefully as possible, he scoops Rohan up into his arms. It isn’t easy, given the location of the wound, but he only makes Rohan whimper rather than scream. That has to count for something.

The path to the bedroom is blessedly short, considering the size of Rohan’s house. Jotaro gently deposits the mangaka on his oversized bed and heads for the en suite bathroom to retrieve the bottle of prescription painkillers that he knows Rohan underutilizes whenever possible (Rohan doesn’t like what they do to his head, and Jotaro can’t say that he blames him). It takes some rummaging, but he manages to find the pills and a cup to pour some water into.

“Here,” Jotaro says once he returns to the bedroom. To his surprise, Rohan takes both the cup and the proffered pills without complaint. He swallows the painkillers dry and chases them down with the water before falling back against the pillows with a quiet groan.

Jotaro takes that as his permission to resume his earlier inspection. Once again, he rolls the edge of the crop top up and tries not to grimace at the sight that greets him. It’s definitely no better than before, not that he had expected it to be. There’s more bruising than not on the scarred side, and some of it has branched across, spreading to the other side. Despite how horrific it looks, Rohan’s breathing is mostly even. It’s obvious that he’s in pain and holding back, but the lung seems to be inflating properly, which is… something. Far from great, but definitely better than the alternative.

Slowly, Jotaro palpates the area. All while ignoring the squirming and gasped breaths that he gets from Rohan. At some point, Rohan has enough, and he tries to swat Jotaro away, but he pulls back before Rohan can reach him.

“I don’t think you’re bleeding internally,” Jotaro announces with a barely level tone. Relief edges his words despite his attempt to keep his tone even. He tries not to think of what could have happened if Rohan had been left alone, bleeding internally, and without any way to call for help. Jotaro chastises himself for not noticing the hit or its aftermath. How could he have missed something so obvious? He can’t imagine that Rohan had been able to fully hide it.

“Fantastic,” Rohan grits out with a roll of his eyes. The way he relaxes into the mattress gives him away, though. He’d been scared.

“I’m going to go get some ice for that. Do you need anything else?”

“No,” Rohan says too quickly. His fingers twitch, but he doesn’t speak up again. Jotaro takes that as his sign to go ahead, and he wanders downstairs and toward the kitchen.

The pantries are unsurprisingly bare, though Jotaro manages to find a baggie to put a decent amount of ice into. He grabs the hand towel off the counter to wrap the makeshift pack in and heads back upstairs, where he finds Rohan exactly where he left him. He hasn’t moved so much as an inch. It’s one more sign of the agony he must be in.

“Do you want me to call Josuke?” Jotaro asks, already knowing the answer. He passes Rohan the ice pack, figuring it will be better if Rohan places it himself. The cold is already going to make him tense up, and he doesn’t need the added pain.

“No.”

“He doesn’t have to see.”

“No.”

Jotaro gives a half shrug, “If you insist.”

“I do,” Rohan sniffs, snooty and irritated until he places the wrapped ice against his skin. He hisses and jolts away from it, but it only takes a moment before he relaxes and presses the pack that much closer. “Stop being a mother and lie down. ‘m not going anywhere anytime soon.” It’s not meant to be a reassurance, but Jotaro takes it that way anyways.

“I could call the Foundation.”

“Don’t you dare,” Rohan shoots back like Jotaro’s words had been a threat. They hadn’t. It’s an offer to have a specialist come to Rohan rather than to force Rohan to the hospital, but it doesn’t surprise Jotaro that he took it to be something else entirely.

“You’re wheezing,” Jotaro points out with the same frown he’s been wearing since he found Rohan on the floor.

“I’m fine. Get in this bed or get out.”

Jotaro can’t help thinking the words might hold more weight if Rohan weren’t practically wheezing them, but he decides to let the subject drop for now. There’s no apparent sign of an emergency. Yet. He’s not sure he can relax enough to get comfortable, but he does toe off his shoes. He rolls onto his side after another moment of contemplation. At least this position allows for him to keep an eye on Rohan without jostling him too much.

Rohan rolls his eyes, but he settles against the mattress with a half-shrug. A ‘suit yourself’ sort of gesture that’s far milder than the rest of his responses have been. His eyes slide shut and he keeps his hand firmly pressed to the ice he’s still holding to his side. His hold is still too tight, and his posture is too stiff. Jotaro wishes he could do more, but he knows how chronic pain goes. There’s really nothing more either of them can do now other than sit and wait for the medication to kick in. Rohan won’t see Josuke, and he’d probably bite Jotaro if the older man tried to take him to the hospital. Waiting is their only option, and time moves at an impossibly slow pace.

Nearly thirty minutes go by in complete silence. Rohan keeps his eyes stubbornly screwed shut, and Jotaro watches him unashamedly. The moment he thinks Rohan is getting worse, he’s dragging both of them to the nearest hospital, repercussions be damned.

Likewise, he keeps having to remind himself to take a breath. Rohan is alive and-- well, mostly-- breathing, granted it looks strained and painful, but it’s better than the alternative. Better than the rattle that Jotaro’s heard too many times before, and there’s no needless gasping. Only the occasional, low whine that manages to slip its way past Rohan’s thin-pressed lips.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Rohan’s body begins to relax. His limbs go slack against the mattress, and his core sinks downwards. He’s no longer holding stiff as a board, and the difference is nearly palpable. Jotaro can see the moment exhaustion takes its hold over pain, and Rohan begins to slip under the blanket that is sleep.

Jotaro takes the risk of removing Rohan’s headband then. His fingers card through the mess of hair left behind. Rohan leans into the touch like it’s the best thing he’s felt in awhile, and it probably is, given what his body’s just gone through. Jotaro won’t deny him that bit of relief, so he continues to pet through Rohan’s hair until there are soft snores escaping the mangaka. Even then, he doesn’t stop. The last thing he wants is to accidentally wake Rohan up.

Eventually being curled on his side and having nowhere to go takes its toll. Jotaro’s eyelids grow heavier the longer he stays put, and he doesn’t bother to fight the sleep that settles in his limbs first and comes for his mind second.

[mushroommushy]

Enter Bunnix

Evillustrator

#VoteMrsBustierBestTeacher

- Nathaniel’s birthday!

- He’s 15 now as well

- Really only the other rich kids know that it’s his birthday

- Mostly because he gets a bit overwhelmed with large amounts of attention on him

- He’s shy, let him be quiet in the back where he doesn’t get in trouble

- Because tomato here has some good o’l ✨trauma and daddy issues✨

- Nathaniel has a huge crush on Mari here

Alix: Nath, you have a crush on anyone that’s nice to you that you don’t consider family

Nathaniel, immediately: That’s not true!

- It is

- Nathaniel has internalized homophobia

- Not to say he’s rude to people who are gay!

- He just won’t let himself accept that he is gay

- Because he knows he would probably be sent away by his dad

- Alix managed to get her hands on a 72 piece set of copic markers and honestly

- Nathaniel wasn’t even surprised

- Chloe nearly made her dad buy Nathaniel a fucking house for his art on his birthday since it’s his stress reliever

- And god knows how much he needs to destress

- The poor boy literally uses every excuse he can to avoid his dad and stays at the school until it’s closed

- His dad is a heavy drinker, and is a violent drunk

- He has assaulted Nathaniel before

- He doesn’t have a mom, as she divorced his dad when he was little

- His dad didn’t even really raise him, blaming him for the divorce

- Even though he was the one that was cheating

- Alim has called him out on this several times

- Nathaniel considers Alim as his father as he raised him more than his bio dad

- Nath is also a history buff because of this

- Especially when it comes to historical art pieces

- Him and Alix have been caught clinging to each other regularly because that’s just a thing with Kubdels

- They will cling to you

- Nathaniel was drawing in science class and Mrs. Mendeleiev yelled at him for it

- She called him out on failing science to literally everyone else in the class room

- And then proceeded to insult his art harshly and send him to the principals office

- Alix was sitting next to Sabrina, who was having to grab her wrist so she didn’t jump out of her seat and break her nose

Sabrina: I would love to let you go and let you go feral on her but I don’t want you getting in trouble. But trust me, it’s tempting.

- Sabrina was really tempted to let her do that though as she was pissed too

- Chloe was not being restrained by Max however, and proceeded to absolutely destroy Mendeleiev for slandering Nathaniel

- Most of the class was pretty startled about this, since they had assumed she didn’t really care about anyone after Dark Cupid

- Marinette came in late, so she didn’t see Mendeleiev yell at Nathaniel

- Nathaniel was akumatized into Evillustator, with the goal of proving how good of an artist he is

- Marinette was in the group with Chloe and Sabrina

- Alix was partnered with Max and Kim

- Alix didn’t miss Alya saying unlucky and glared at her for it

- Chloe did ask if her and Sabrina could work alone but was still denied

- Marinette was not looking forward to working with them and was miserable, expecting to have to do all the work

- Chloe and Sabrina however, offered to split the work evenly between them

- Marinette didn’t believe them but agreed to it anyway

- Chloe was a little bummed about Alix not being in their group

Chloe: I wish Ally-kins was in our group. I suck at science.

Sabrina: Alix is who we want for history, not science.

- Marinette mistakes this for them using Alix for good grades because she’s smart and she ends up disliking them even more

- She makes a mental note to try and keep Alix away from them so they can’t use her

- Sabrina has more of a personality compared to canon

- She isn’t a pushover, and doesn’t do Chloe’s homework for her

- But she is extremely smart, able to complete complex math problems in seconds

- Sabrina however is hyper and gets excited when she has a new friend

- Chloe is just snickering as she circles Marinette like a puppy

- The three of them end up working in the library for a little while

- Sabrina was muttering about how she was annoyed that she wasn’t able to give Nathaniel his present

Marinette: Present?

Sabrina: It’s his 15th birthday today! Alix already gave him some copics. I had gotten him a new tablet that came with an apple pen since he’s been wanting one.

Chloe: He wouldn’t let me get him a studio, so I just got him one of the Limited Edition Graf von Faber-Castell pencils.

Sabrina, choking: How did you get your hands on one?! Theres 10 and they cost $12, 800 each!

- Cue Marinette cursing and wondering why she didn’t know that and why the hell they spent so much money

- Chloe still gave Sabrina the hat because she had it on her

- Mendeleiev was in the courtyard when a giant Bunsen Burned started chasing her

- Alix had peaked out of the art room to see that

- She was with Max and Kim still though and couldn’t transform

- Chat Noir showed up, destroying the Bunsen Burner and looking around for the cause

-Evillustrator was on the second floor and rolled his eyes when Chat spotted him

- Chat was noticeably upset realizing it was Nathaniel who was akumatized

- Ladybug showed up soon after and both ran into a wall

- Alix was a little freaked out about the situation and super worried about him

- She had just had to sit out on fighting her brother now it’s her best friend?

- Chloe was clearly worried as well and nearly screamed when Evillustrator popped up for a moment to hug her and Sabrina

- Sabrina did actually scream

- He left before Ladybug and Chat got after them

- Ladybug was quite angry with them, assuming that Chloe was the reason that he was akumatized

Ladybug: You got another person akumatized? This is the second one!

Sabrina: Hey, Chloe didn’t do anything to Nathaniel! She defended him! Mrs. Mendeleiev is the one who hurt his feelings!

- Bunnix showed up and Chloe fangirled immediately

- She doesn’t like Ladybug as much with the false accusation and assuming

- But didn’t blame her too much as she wasn’t aware

- Ladybug just sighed and went home, detransforming in her room at the same moment Evillustrator came in

- She nearly hit him with a peel

- Marinette didn’t really know how to react about the fact he had a crush on her

- I mean, she barely knew Nathaniel

- She didn’t even know that it was his birthday

- She did agree to coming to his birthday party, feeling bad

- Then noticed that his iPad was buzzing like crazy

Marinette: Your iPad seems to be getting notifications quite a bit

Evillustrator: Huh?

You have 7 missed calls

Alix Kubdel: Nath, please where are you. You’re making me scared.

Adrien Agreste: Nathaniel? Please, answer. We’re here for you.

Sabrina Raincomprix: We’ll make sure Mendeleiev is punished for this! We all love you very much.

Chloe Bourgeois: This isn’t your fault Nath. I’ll get daddy to do something, I promise.

Jalil Kubdel: You ok little brother? You can stay with us tonight. You don’t have to deal with the scumbag. We’ll keep you safe, always. I heard you were akumatized. You’ll be ok soon, I promise.

- He actually started crying

- He didn’t realize that they cared so much

- Marinette had texted Alix that Evillustrator was in her room

- She got close to the bakery as Bunnix and then detransformed

- She had tackle hugged Evillustrator as soon as she got to the room

- Hawkmoth of course was screaming in his head to attack

- But this only made him even more irritated with Hawkmoth, Nathaniel being able to shove down his negative emotions

- This is how he managed to become the first person ever to break akumatization on his own

- Both Alix and Marinette of course were shocked

- They didn’t even know that was possible

Alix: I..Nath..

Nathaniel, coughing with a smile: Love you too sis.

- Marinette trapped the Akuma in a glass bowl so it couldn’t escape and cause a stone heart situation

- Alix was so incredibly proud of him and hugged him even tighter

- Marinette joined in on this too

- When Chat reached the scene, he was stunned

Chat Noir: Did you two break the object?

Alix: Nope..he rejected it himself.

- Alix was so freaking proud of him

- Nathaniel ended up staying with the Kubdels that night instead

- Alim had even gotten him a gift and planned a trip for his birthday

- They watched Nathaniel’s favorite movie, ignoring Nathaniel’s dad the whole night

- The class had crowded him with questions on how he broke akumatization

- Which he just answered by saying that he loved his family enough

- Chloe got her dad to fine Mendeleiev too

[gooddaykate]

You Already Mean the World to Me

Marcus Pike x Reader

Word Count: just under 8500

Tags: childhood best friends, pining idiots, King Arthur/Monty Python references, some cursing, roughly unedited terrible writing

A/N: It’s finally here! Again, absolutely would not have been finished without the constant support of my dearest @thedaysarenotfull​. @hdlynn​ helped me talk through my roadblock. Let me know what you think!

You had been friends with Marcus Pike for as long as you could remember. You grew up together. You were toddlers together. You went to the same schools together. You fell in love with art together. You went to every gig his band had. He went to every art show of yours. You stood up as his “best man” in the wedding to his college sweetheart, and sat with him while he cried after she’d handed him the divorce paperwork.

You weren’t sure which broke your heart more.

You were certain that Marcus was the love of your life. He had just… never felt the same. And that was okay! You were perfectly fine loving him as much as you could. When he left a quiet but excited voicemail at three in the morning telling you that he met someone, you let all the love you held for him mold into the cracks in your heart.

Three months and many conversations about Teresa later, you got a call from him.

“Hey, Lance, I have news. Guess what.”

“Oh, it’s good you called, I’ve got news, too. Yours, though? I don’t know, Art. You’re finally moving to DC to come be with your best friend?” you asked sarcastically. The line was quiet for long enough that you took the phone off your ear to look and see if the call had dropped. “Marcus?”

“How did you know?” You could practically hear his furrowed brows.

“Wait, what?”

“How’d you know I’m moving to DC?”

“I was being facetious, you asshole. Are you serious? Are you really moving here? You’re not going to be halfway across the country anymore?”

“Nope. I got a promotion. I’ve got about a month left here in Dallas, and then I’m headed your way. I’m invincible!”

“You’re a loony,” you laughed, continuing the phrase you’ve said to each other since you were kids. “Oh my god, Marcus! That’s so incredible! I can’t wait to show you some of my favorite places. I mean, you haven’t even visited me here, Marcus, and I’ve been here for three years.”

“Yeah, I’m excited. It’ll be nice to be in the same city again, huh? Tell me your news, though.”

You laughed. “Forget city, just the prospect of even being in the same time zone is getting me excited. My news doesn’t really feel all that important, now. My show kind of took off and I had to get an agent. Now I’ve got three galleries wanting my paintings.” You knew Marcus couldn’t see you, but you shrugged anyway. “I’m not as excited by that anymore. Not when I’ll get to see you very soon. I can’t wait to have you here, oh my god. I’ve missed you so much, Art.”

“Hold the hell up, you mean to tell me that the first art show you’ve had your work in got so much traction that you needed to hire an agent? So you’re actually painting full time, now?”

“I guess when you put it that way, it does sound kind of important.”

Marcus let out a sarcastic laugh. “You freakin’ think? Man, I’m so proud of you, Lance!”

That brought a smile and heat to your face. “Thank you, Marcus,” you said quietly. “But yeah, painting full time. That triptych I did of the valley back home, remember that one?” Marcus hummed in affirmation. “That one sold for nine k. Three grand a panel, Marcus. I about crapped myself when Jenny told me how much the guy was offering.”

“That’s awesome. Did you ever meet the buyer so you could thank him in person?”

“Nah, he was some anonymous guy out of Texas somewhere. Apparently he grew up in the same general area we did. He told Jenny it reminded him of home. Enough about me, though! When will you be here officially? I’ll help you move in.”

“Three weeks. I don’t know the actual date, yet.” Marcus was quiet for a moment. “I, uh, I asked Teresa to come with me.”

In the euphoria of the galleries and having your best friend back, you’d forgotten about his potential plus one. “Oh! Oh, that’s… quick.”

He immediately jumped on the defensive. “It’s not like I demanded she go with me. She has a month to think about it. I’m going to talk to the director there and see if a place could be made for her, so she’d have a job to go to if she wants it.”

You tried to backpedal. “No, I know, Marcus. I know. It’s just,” you tried to find the words. “I don’t know, Art, you’ve been dating for three months. And I know you don’t want to hear it, bud, but I just… I just don’t think she’s all the way in like you are.”

“What?” he spat.

“From what you’ve told me I just-”

Marcus interrupted you. “Oh, that was rhetorical. You really don’t have to say it again.”

“Art, I’m sorry I just don’t think-”

The way Marcus said your first name stopped you in your tracks.

“If you can’t support me in this, then maybe I need to take a step back from our friendship.”

“Wait, Marcus, don’t you think that’s a little dramatic? I mean, I just don’t want to see you get hurt again. Art, you’ve gotta-”

“That’s enough. I’ll talk to you later.”

The line was quiet again, but you knew the line was dead this time.

“Bye, Art.” You sucked in a heavy breath and could feel your lower lip starting to quiver. “I love you.”

•

DC didn’t feel right. Marcus had moved with mostly excitement. He put a down payment on a house not far from headquarters. Teresa would be joining him today- he needed to leave to pick her up from the airport in about an hour, and then they’d start life as an engaged couple.

But Lance was missing.

It’d been almost five weeks since he’d spoken to her. He knew he’d been hasty and rude the last time they’d talked. He also knew she was just trying to help him protect his heart. But he didn’t need his heart protected. Lance didn’t know Teresa like he did. She’d see that when Teresa was finally here and they could meet. Everything was going to work out.

Marcus picked up his phone to call her for the hundredth time since moving to the same city she lived in. He missed her, and he knew it was his place to pick up the phone and apologize, but he just couldn’t.

A call from Teresa lit up his screen.

That’s odd, he thought. She should be on a plane right now.

•

The next five weeks passed slowly. The longest you’d ever gone without talking to Marcus was that one weekend when you were in high school and he went on a camping trip and didn’t have service.

This was slow torture, and you knew it was your fault. If you’d just kept your mouth shut and supported him like you had with Ashley, this wouldn’t have happened. It would have hurt you, but at least he’d still be around.

You knew he was in DC by now. Because of the way things were left, you didn’t even know if Teresa had decided to come with him, though you figured she’d be stupid not to. You had considered going to the fbi headquarters and asking for him, but then you thought better of it. The fbi probably wouldn’t appreciate some random person coming in and asking for an agent, and you didn’t really want to be detained. That probably wouldn’t win any points back in Marcus’ book.

Going to your studio was just depressing. Everything you painted was spoiled by your sadness. Your agent had laughed and called this your blue period. You just threw a pained smile her way with a nod and a shrug.

It was nearing the end of the sixth week without any contact from him, and you felt the Marcus sized hole in your heart. The other day, you ordered Indian takeout, and only when you were sitting on the couch with it on your lap did you realize that it was the malai kofta that he would usually get. That realization just served to make you cry and lose your appetite.

You were getting ready for bed when you heard a knock on your door. Thinking it was the sweet old woman from next door in need of some honey for her nightly tea again, you shrugged on your robe and swung the front door open with a smile.

But it wasn’t Miss Agnes.

Marcus’ eyes were rimmed red. He just stood there in your doorway looking at you. The sight of him brought you tears of both relief and concern. His chin wobbled and more tears sprung up in his eyes.

“Marcus, I’m so sorry. I never should have-”

He cut you off with a shake of his head. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m so sorry, Lance. I just didn’t want to hear it. I’ve missed you so much.”

You let go of the door to open your arms to him. He fell into your hug with a heavy sigh. You closed the door behind him and then just held him. You both had silent tears rolling down your faces.

Marcus mumbled something into your shoulder.

“What, sweetheart?” you whispered.

You could feel the wobble of his chin when he moved his face to answer. “You were right.”

“Oh, Marcus. I’m so sorry. That’s the last thing I wanted to be right about, hon. I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t want to be the first to let go, so you just stood in your front hall holding him. After a few more minutes of tired silence, you moved your face from the crook of his neck so he would be able to hear you.

“Marcus, honey, why don’t we move to the living room? It’ll be more comfortable. And then maybe you can tell me about it? If you’re up for that. We’ve missed a lot the last month and a half.”

He stayed quiet and glued to you for just a bit longer, before mumbling a ‘yeah’ and letting go. You grabbed his hand and led him to the couch.

“Tea?”

Marcus grabbed one of the fluffy throw blankets you had folded in the basket by the couch. “Yeah. Please.”

Walking into the kitchen, you grabbed a chamomile mint blend from the shelf and spooned some of the loose leaf into a steeper. You squeezed a honey stick into each mug  and waited for your electric kettle to come to a boil. When you got back to the living room, Marcus was sitting cross-legged on the couch with the blanket pulled over his head.

“You look kind of like a sad nun, Art.”

The corners of his mouth twitched up as he took a mug from you. You sat facing him on the other end of the couch and just waited. He’d tell you when he was ready.

“I had, uh,” Marcus cleared his throat. “I had asked her to marry me.”

Your eyebrows shot up, but you didn’t say anything. You just waited for him to continue.

“She had said yes. She said she’d move here with me and had agreed to marry me. I put a down payment on a house. I was so happy.”

“Did she change her mind?”

Marcus scoffed. “She didn’t just change her mind. She left me for Patrick Jane.”

“Wait, the asshole clairvoyant?”

Marcus rolled his eyes, but the ghost of a smile lit up his face. “Yes, the asshole clairvoyant. I guess she’s been in love with him for years and it just took the prospect of her being taken away for him to finally realize he wanted her.”

You put your hand on his blanket covered knee. “If that’s the kind of man she wants, then you’re better off, Marcus. She made it clear that she only wanted him to see what he’d lose without any regard for who she hurt in the process. I know it won’t fix anything, but I’m so sorry, Marcus. You didn’t deserve that.”

He looked over at you with more tears in his eyes. “What’s wrong with me, Lance? Why am I not wanted? What am I doing wrong?”

“Marcus Alexander Pike.” You reached out to your coffee table to set your mug down. When you looked back at him, his eyes were wide. “My best friend in the entire world. Sunshine of my life. My literal favorite person. There is nothing wrong with you, okay? Let’s pick this apart, shall we? Starting with Ashley. I can guarantee you’re not going to like this part of the conversation because I’m going to be blunt and say not nice things about people you’re too kind to stop caring about, but it needs to be said, okay?”

He nodded slowly and looked down at the mug still in his hands. You put your hand on his knee and nudged so he would know to turn and face you. When he got the memo, you nodded and continued.

“Marcus, what is your degree in?”

“Art history with a specialization in art conservation. But you know that.”

“I do. Did Ashley?”

“Well, I mean, I assume so, yes. We met in art history in undergrad.”

You blinked at him. “Marcus, why did you join the fbi?”

“Well, the job I had with the museum didn’t exactly pay a whole lot, and Ashley knew someone in the art recovery department that got me an appointment. And it pays a lot better, so…” he trailed off.

“So you gave up your dream job and safety for the sake of a higher paycheck?”

He scoffed. “Well, of course. There are just some things that you have to compromise on in a marriage. You’d know that if you ever let anyone close enough to try.”

You shot him a glare. “First off, we’re not talking about me, asshole. Uncalled for. Second, compromise, I get. But what did she compromise? Marcus, you gave up your dream job, friends, a town you loved all for a dangerous job because your wife said she wanted more disposable income to spend at Nordstrom?”

“I was happy to do all of that because we loved each other and she-”

“Marcus, Ashley cheated on you,” you interrupted.

“No she didn’t, Lance. And even if she did, I was just too overbearing. I pushed her away.”

You heaved out a sigh. “Okay, let’s look at the facts. I know you’ve kept tabs on her. How long after your divorce was final was she engaged to that Todd guy?”

“Tedd, actually, but three-ish months.”

“You cannot tell me that she wasn’t with that guy while y’all were still married. She was never someone to rush into things. I mean, you asked the girl three times to marry you, and she said ‘not yet’ the first two. So three months after she wasn’t Mrs. Pike anymore, she rushes into another marriage? You’re a smart man, Marcus. Use that big fbi brain to look at the facts.”

“Okay, sure. She cheated on me. But like I said, I’m the one who pushed her to that in the first place. I was too much. Overbearing, or whatever.”

“Don’t make me bring out your middle name again, sir. I’ll do it.”

Marcus just rolled his eyes.

“Roll reversal, Marcus. Let’s say you were married to a wonderful woman who gave you her all.”

He scoffed. You shushed him.

“No interruptions. Quiet. Let’s say this wife gets a new job because you didn’t think the one she loved paid enough to support you.” You held your hand up to silence the start of his protest. “Ah, ah. Theoretical, Art. Roll reversal, remember?”

His eyes rolled, but nodded for you to continue.

“So she gets a new job that puts her in danger on the daily. Still passion-adjacent, so she figures ‘at least she’s got that’. And then you meet some other woman at some country club you insist on having a membership to and you refuse to work like this is the freaking fifties because she’s the breadwinner and you’re the absolute worst.”

Marcus’ eyebrows had shot up. “Wow. You really didn’t like Ashley.”

“No, I didn’t. She was a shitty person and a worse wife. Stop interrupting.”

He shook his head. “You’ve made your point, Lance. She wasn’t right for me. I didn’t pick well there, either.”

You placed your hand on his knee again and gave a soft squeeze. “The point I’m trying to make, Marcus, is that you’re  already worthy of love exactly as you are. You deserve someone who’s going to support you in everything, just like you’d do for them. You’re also allowed to feel used, Marcus. Ashley used you to get herself into a specific station so that she could live a charmed life. Teresa used you to show the man she actually wanted what he’d be missing. Neither of those relationship failures are your fault. You are the kindest man I know. You deserve to have your love returned tenfold. You more than anyone I know. It breaks my heart that you’ve had to deal with these horrible women.”

He gave you a sad smile. “Come on, Lance. They aren’t horrible.”

“Just because you choose to see the good in people, doesn’t mean I have to. And to be quite frank about it, if I ever see either of them, I will be throwing the first punch, I don’t give a damn. I’ll go to jail. I don’t care. They broke your heart, they can go through me.” You crossed your arms over your chest and mumbled, “Bitches.”

Marcus barked out a laugh and you smiled.

“And that’s why you’ll always be my Lancelot. I know you’ve got my back.”

Your smile dropped for a moment, but you plastered another on and placed your right fist over your heart. “Always, my king.” You dropped your hand and just sat smiling at each other, and for a moment, it felt like you were kids again, just playing a silly game.

“Alright, Art. I’ve got a hankering for pancakes, so I’m going to call Bob & Edith’s and order some. I swear, they’re the best here. I’ll go pick them up and then we can chow down, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan to me, Lance,” he said with a yawn.

You knew he wouldn’t be awake for much longer, so you decided to just hold off on the pancakes, but walked into the kitchen anyways. You busied yourself by cleaning out the tea steepers and dumping the water left over in the kettle.

“On second thought,” you called, “I know I’m tired. I’m sure you’re exhausted. So I think I’ll just hold off until we can go sit in together.”

When there wasn’t a response, you turned the sink off. “Marcus?”

You walked down the short hallway and came back into the living room to find that Marcus had fallen asleep on the sofa. His long legs were stretched out taking up all of the space, and he still had the blanket wrapped loosely around his head and shoulders. You grabbed another to drape over his body. 

Standing above him, you gently ran your fingers through his hair. He let out a satisfied hum, but didn’t stir.

“There’s another thing that I didn’t say, Art,” you whispered. You didn’t have the courage to say it to him while he was awake, but you needed it said out loud. “Watching you pick these women who only want to break your heart is torture for me. I have loved you for so long, and they have just hurt you. I wish they could have seen you like I see you. You’re such an incredible man, Marcus. You’re so kind and selfless, and so, so handsome. You make me laugh. You indulge me in late night pancake runs. I just wish I would get the chance to show you the love that you deserve.”

Marcus shifted a bit, and you paused your hand working through the curls on his forehead. When he didn’t wake up, you continued. “I know I’m not who you want, though. It’s not ever going to be me. I’m okay with that, I promise. I will just keep quietly loving you because you’re the best man I know and you deserve it. Sweetheart, you are worth so much. I hope one day you can find someone who appreciates and loves you like I do. I really, truly hope so. You really are the sunshine of my life. You already mean the world to me. I love you, Marcus.”

You leaned down to place a soft kiss on his forehead and then turned to head back to your room.

When you woke up the next morning, Marcus had left, but he had written a note and put it on top of the folded blankets he had used.

Your neighbor came over to see if you could help move her new couch in. If you need me, I’m over at Agnes’.

Making your way over with a Tupperware of scones you had made, you heard Miss Agnes chatting Marcus’ ear off.

“It’s been so nice having that sweet girl next door. She always indulges my whimsy.”

Marcus laughed. “Mine, too, Agnes. For entirely too long. I’ve known her since we were two, ma’am. She’s had to put up with me for years.”

You knew if you walked in, you’d see her hand on his shoulder. “That’s certainly not the way she puts it, my dear boy. That girl is enamored with you. I’m glad to see you’ve finally come to your senses.”

There was a deep sigh. “I was wrong for not talking to her for so long. I was mad, but she’s my best friend, so that’s not an excuse.”

Miss Agnes’ chuckle was breathy and her chair creaked as she sat down in it. “It was like her heart had been ripped out for weeks. You can’t leave the love of your life stranded like that, young man.

“Love of- no, Agnes, I think you’ve got it wrong. Lance and I are- we’re just friends. We’ve been friends since we were kids. Friends. She’s not the l- we’re just friends.”

Rather than let Marcus flounder and also have him casually break your heart without knowing it again, you walked into the room. Marcus was sitting on the flowery print couch and Miss Agnes was sitting in her usual reclining chair across from him.

“Are you done with your interrogation, Miss Agnes? Can I have my friend back?”

“Oh, fine, sweet girl, but you need to promise me that you’ll be straight with this one.”

“I always am, Miss Agnes. I brought you some scones for your tea. I’ll leave them on the kitchen counter, okay?”

She gave you a pointed look. “Well I think he needs to know that-”

“Miss Agnes,” you gave her a small shake of your head. “Please.”

Her sharp eyes stayed on you and she raised her eyebrow, but didn’t say more.

Marcus looked between the two of you with furrowed brows. “Okay, well, it was good to meet you Agnes. I’ll probably see more of you, now that I listened to reason.”

“Not all reason, boy, but enough. Keep thinking about what I said. The both of you.”

With both of you back in your home, you turned back to him with a smirk. “So what had she talked to you about that she wanted you to think about?” you asked, as if you hadn’t had your heart stepped on by his response.

“Oh, uh. She was just under the impression that we were more than just friends. Or maybe that we should be. I don’t know what she was saying, for the most part. What was that look you two shared at the end there?”

You brushed it off with a shrug. “Oh, Miss Agnes just likes to tease me, that’s all.”

Marcus hummed like he didn’t fully believe you, but he didn’t push it.

“Well, I’ve got to go to the office today, so I’ll see you later?”

You smiled. “Of course, Art. Text me your address. I’ll bring you some dinner?”

Marcus reached over and pulled you into a hug. “That would be great. Thank you, Lance. For everything.”

“Of course, bud. Any time, you know that.”

With a wave, he was out the door.

•

The decision to take the undercover case in Dallas was not an easy one.

He knew it would be a relatively easy case, but the prospect of seeing both Teresa and Jane was… daunting, to say the least. Marcus was over his anger at Teresa. He still had the lingering sadness of the ‘what if’, but Lance had helped him see that she wasn’t right for him in the first place.

He’d been off since the night he’d apologized to her. He could tell that she knew something was up, but he also knew she wouldn’t say anything about it until he did.

The truth was, he’d been awake when she came back out to her living room that night. He hadn’t meant to deceive her like that, but he knew from experience that she would have been embarrassed if he’d given away that he was actually hearing what she was saying. And he couldn’t believe it. Lance? In love with him? It didn’t add up.

And that’s why he’d been off. He didn’t know where his head was at. He’d had a crush on her his freshman year of high school, but that was it. He’d never actually considered her as a romantic partner, and it was throwing him for a loop. How the hell was he supposed to say that he wasn’t interested in her. Did he even need to say anything at all? They’d gone this long as just friends, they’d be fine, right?

But more importantly, what if he was wrong, and she was exactly who he actually needed? What if the butterflies he felt every time he looked at her were real? Lance helped him slow down, helped him breathe. She was the eye of his storm, whenever he was out of control. She knew when to apply pressure and when to leave him alone. She’d been the person he turned to when he was at his most broken.

What if Agnes was right, and she was the love of his life?

All of that was running through his head as he bent over Teresa’s desk to leave her a note saying he was happy for her.

“Uh, excuse me, can I help you?”

Marcus stood with a sigh. “Jane.”

“Pike, hello.”

He turned toward Patrick and then shifted back again. “I was, uh, looking for Teresa.”

Jane came closer. “Yeah, I’m sure she’s uh,” he looked around the glass-walled office. “I’m sure she’s around here someplace.”

This is weird, Marcus thought. “Yeah, she probably is.”

“Beard looks good.”

“It’s for an undercover thing.” It felt like they were at the start of some measuring contest and all Marcus could think of was Lance’s voice saying ‘that asshole clairvoyant guy?’  He shifted his weight to the other leg and decided to hell with it. He wanted to know. “So it’s, uh,” he smiled at Patrick, trying to show he wasn’t angry. “You and her.”

Jane walked closer still. “Yeah,” he looked down and at least had the decency to look guilty. “I’m sorry, we didn’t intend for it to happen like this.” Jane took a breath and Marcus had to look away from him. “I know it was the last thing on her mind, the idea of hurting you.”

Marcus wanted to laugh, because he knew that wasn’t the case. Asshole clairvoyant rang in his head again. Jane couldn’t have given a care less, and Teresa’s goal was to show Jane what he’d miss.

“I know,” was his response instead. “I know that.”

Asshole clairvoyant. “So do you have a plan?” He crossed his arms and stepped away from Teresa’s desk.

Jane rolled his eyes and looked away. “I don’t really understand.”

Asshole clairvoyant. “Well, I was offering her a life, a home, a family if she wanted it. A future. Have you thought about any of that?” Marcus knew the answer was no, but he wanted to hear Jane say it.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.”

Marcus hummed and furrowed his brows in mock thought. “Well, what are you offering her? I mean, other than,” he gave Jane a once-over. “Patrick Jane?”

Marcus turned at the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Hey.” Teresa looked spooked, like this was the last place she wanted to be.

Jane looked up at him with a smug twist of his lips. “Excuse me.” He walked over into the hallway, far enough away that he wasn’t in the conversation, but close enough that he’d be able to hear it.

Asshole clairvoyant.

Marcus looked down at Teresa and sighed.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I was upstairs giving a deposition, and uh, thought I’d say hi,” Marcus looked away. “Stupid idea,” he said with a sad chuckle.

Teresa responded with a nervous chuckle of her own. “No, it’s fine.”

She still hadn’t actually looked him in the eye. He looked over at Jane and watched him angle his face away like he wasn’t listening in. “Anyway, it’s good to see you, Teresa.”

“You too, Marcus.”

“Jane.” Patrick nodded back at him.

That one tense conversation was all the closure he needed. Teresa was never his, Lance had been right about that. She had been right about a lot of things. The ‘what if’ brought the storm of butterflies back to his stomach. He walked out of the office with a smile. For maybe the first time in his life, he knew the next time he gave his heart away, it would be safe. He needed to have a conversation with his best friend.

•

Two months after ‘the absurdity’, as you and Marcus had taken to calling it, he had to go back to Dallas for some work thing. He had grown out his hair and beard, said it was some undercover job. You were a little worried for him, knowing he’d have to be back in the Dallas office with Teresa and that clairvoyant guy. He told you he’d be fine, and you hoped that was true.

You hadn’t left your studio in almost seventy-two hours, but the wall sized landscape you were working on was almost finished. Marcus still hadn’t been to your studio, and that was fine by you. You’d started a portrait of Marcus because Jenny had asked you to paint something personal to get back to “your emotional roots”. Whatever that meant. Marcus being out of town and not coming to your studio meant that the portrait could sit out undisturbed while you made slight changes to the oil paints.

Jenny knocked and let herself in. “Okay, love, how’re we doing?”

You stepped back from the landscape. “Done with this one. I’ll let it sit for a week or so, see if anything needs to be layered over after it’s dried, and then it can head to the gallery. What do you think?”

Jenny hummed as she looked up at it. “It's difficult to enter into this work because of how the disjunctive perturbation of the purity of line endangers the devious simplicity of the essentially transitional quality. With regard to the issue of content, the disjunctive perturbation of the spatial relationships brings within the realm of discourse the distinctive formal juxtapositions. I'm troubled by how the mechanical mark-making of the emotional signifier visually and conceptually activate the remarkable handling of light.”

You paused and took a steadying breath. “Jenny, what in the blue blazes are you talking about? You sound like you’re talking out of your ass. Would you have said all that bullshit to Bob Ross? It’s just some happy little trees and a majestic mountain.”

“As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t have. But I’m not Bob Ross’ agent. I’m yours.”

You scoffed. “That doesn’t mean you can make up critique-y phrases. If it’s bad, just say it’s bad.”

“Oh, whatever.” She turned to the smaller piece to her left. “Is that portrait the one I asked you to do? The personal project?”

You tried to school your features so they wouldn’t soften too much at the sight of Marcus’ profile. “Indeed it is.”

Jenny looked at you with wide eyes. “Whoa, do you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?”

Your eyes snapped back to her. “No. Why would you think that?”

Jenny chuckled. “Well, if that reaction wasn’t enough, this is a pretty… striking portrait, babe.”

“I’ve just known him my whole life. That’s all that is, Jenny,” you said, still trying to deflect.

She hummed. “Then I may ask him out when I see him. He’s quite handsome.”

You swallowed and tried to collect yourself. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess he is. I could, uh,” the lump forming in your throat was making it difficult to speak. “I could introduce you, or whatever.”

Jenny’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. “Girl. Just tell me the goddamn truth.”

You threw your arms up. “What do you want me to say, Jen?! That I’m in love with my best friend and have been since the second grade when he climbed a tree to get my teddy that a big kid had stuffed up there? That no man will ever measure up to him because he’s everything I’ve ever wanted? That it kills me to think of him with someone who isn’t me, but also kills me to know that it’s my reality? That Marcus will never love me the way I love him because all I’ll ever be to him is his fucking Lancelot?!”

Your chest was heaving after yelling most of that at Jenny. A dry sob clawed its way out from your chest.

She uncrossed her arms and engulfed you in a hug. “Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry. I was teasing, I didn’t think. I’m so sorry honey.”

Jenny patted your back and pulled away. “Why don’t you go home, hon? You haven’t showered. Have you even eaten anything?”

You looked away from her disapproving face. “Dry granola,” you said sheepishly.

“Girl. Go home. I’ll clean up here. Go get yourself cleaned up. Make yourself something to eat. I’ll be by in a couple hours to make sure you’ve actually taken care of yourself, okay?”

“Okay, Jenny. Thank you.”

“No worries, babe. Can’t have my star’s light dim, can I?”

•

Marcus pulled up to Lance’s studio with a stupid smile on his face. He wasn’t sure how this was going to go down, but he knew he needed to tell her he was in love with her. He’s not even sure when it started, only that hearing what she said and listening to Agnes made him realize what was in his own heart.

He pulled the door open to a quiet, well-lit room. The windows were large, so it lit everything in the most wonderful natural light. There was a massive landscape painting directly in front of him that was stunning. The mountain was towering over him like the real thing would, and the oranges of the autumn leaves were a beautiful contrast.

He heard footsteps behind him, but didn’t turn to face them. “You’re so talented, Lance.”

He looked around the studio, and his eyes landed on a portrait of himself. He couldn’t remember this ever being a picture that was taken. It was his profile, and he looked a little sad. He’d never cared for his nose, always thought it was too prominent and made him look like a bad guy, but she’d taken so much care in painting it. He could see the emotion in his painted eyes.

“When did you know you loved me?” he asked quietly.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever known, because I don’t actually know who you are.”

Marcus startled at the voice that was definitely not his best friend. He turned quickly to find a small Asian woman looking at him with bright amusement.

“Sorry, I, uh. Who are you?”

The woman laughed. “I’m her agent, Jenny. I sent your Lancelot home about an hour ago. She’d been here for three days straight with only dry granola in her system.”

“That sounds like her,” he sighed. He held his hand out. “Marcus, by the way.”

Jenny shook his hand and smiled. “Oh, I’m well aware.” She gestured to the portrait. “I wanted her to paint something personal. She’s been in her own head a lot recently, hasn’t tapped into the emotion she usually uses to paint. It’s in that one, though, don’t you think?”

Marcus looked over at it again. He’d never really considered himself a very handsome man, but he certainly felt it right now. The way she had captured his likeness… “For sure. She’s a brilliant artist.”

“And she loves you a great deal.”

Butterflies erupted in his stomach again. “It was nice to meet you, Jenny, but I have to go.”

She just smiled and waved him out the door. “Make sure she actually eats something.”

•

After you’d gotten home, you decided self care was actually in order. You washed your face and put one of those weird face masks on. You poured a glass of sweet red wine and sank down into a hot bath filled with a de-stress bath bomb Jenny had given you. You turned on your audiobook of Pride and Prejudice and settled in.

About an hour and a half later, the Bennets were talking to Mr. Collins about Rosings Park when you heard a noise in your kitchen. Assuming it was Jenny coming to check on you, you unplugged the bath and toweled off.

With your hair stuffed in a cotton t-shirt and your robe secured around your middle, you stepped out into the hall.

“Sorry for my meltdown over Marcus earlier, Jen. It’s been a particularly rough season in our friendship. And I think he knows, now, that I’m in love with him, because-”

You rounded the corner and stopped short.

“Well, if he didn’t, he does now,” Marcus joked.

You felt the dread settle on your lungs like smoke you’d inhaled. Your eyes closed. “Oh, god,” you whispered. “What’re you,” you swallowed hard and fought the bile rising in your chest from the amount of dread you felt. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were going to be in Dallas for another three days.”

You couldn’t see it, but you could hear the smile in Marcus’ voice. “They didn’t need me anymore. Got done early. I stopped to see your studio. Met Jenny. She said you hadn’t eaten anything, so I let myself in to make you dinner.”

You rubbed a hand over your face, and still hadn’t opened your eyes to look at him. “That’s nice of you, Marcus. Unnecessary, but nice, thank you.”

“When did you know?” he asked quietly.

“Know what?”

You could hear the smile in his voice again. “That you were in love with me?”

Your eyes snapped open and fell on a shit-eating grin. “There’s no need to be cruel. I will smack you across the face, Marcus, I’m not even kidding.”

He said your name and reached up, but you took a step back so he couldn’t touch you. His brows furrowed and his hand dropped. “It’s a serious question. Please indulge me?”

You shook your head and turned away, feeling the beginning of tears fill your eyes.

Marcus cleared his throat. You could hear the scraping of a wooden spoon in a pan. “The first time I realized that I am fully, truly and completely in love with you, I was standing in the office of the fbi’s special crimes unit in Dallas having a conversation with the man who took a woman I now know never actually loved me away.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“But I think what really got me thinking about it was knowing that my best friend has harbored feelings for me for, seemingly, a long time, and even though it must’ve broken her heart, she was always there when I needed her.”

You turned to face him again. He looked into your eyes and gave a small smile. “The truth is, I think I’ve been in love with you for a lot longer than I have even realized. You’re everyone’s comparison. Even Ashley, thinking back on it. You’ve always been it, Lance. It just took me a while to see it. I’m sorry.”

You let out the breath you’d been holding and brought the heels of your palms up to your eyes. “This isn’t some type of sick, joke, is it? I’ve never known you to be cruel, Marcus, so don’t start now. Please.”

He took a step closer and gingerly took your forearms in his hands. When you moved your hands away from your face, he dropped your arms and brought his hands up to your face to brush the tears away.

Marcus whispered your name and tenderly stroked your cheek. “Agnes was right. You are the love of my life. I’m so sorry it took me so long to figure that out, sweetheart.”

“You have to be serious about this, Marcus,” you whispered back. “You’re it for me, and if you decide you don’t actually want me, it’ll break me. I won’t recover, and neither will our friendship. So I have to know you’re sure.”

The slow smile he gave you was filled with reverence. “What do you want me to say so you’ll know that I’m serious?”

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. “I don’t know, Marcus.”

He let out a soft sigh. “How about this?” He took your hands in his and stepped closer. Marcus whispered your full name as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. “We’ll go at your pace, sweetheart. I know you’re skeptical that this is real for me, so we’ll go as slow as you need. I’ll wait for however long it takes for you to trust this. I trust you. I know you’ll keep my heart safe. And I’ll do my very best to reassure you that I’ll keep yours safe, too.”

Marcus tilted his head to leave a soft kiss on your forehead.

“So, my dear, sweet, wonderful, beautiful, lovely friend,” he pulled back to look in your eyes. “Can I take you on a date and get to know you?”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but him asking to get to know you definitely wasn’t it. You chuckled. “Get to know me? Marcus, you’ve known me since I was three years old. What else is there for you to know?”

He grinned and glanced down at your lips. When he looked back up, he lifted his eyebrows, asking silent permission.

With your slight nod, he leaned closer. “There’s so much to learn, Lance. What makes you smile,” he tilted your chin up and kissed below your ear. You let out a soft whimper and he smiled. “What inspires you,” he kissed the underside of your jaw. “What makes you feel like the most important girl in the world,” he moved up to kiss the tip of your nose. “What makes you cry,” he kissed your forehead. “How I got lucky enough to have a woman as wonderful as you love me.”

Marcus paused long enough for you to open your eyes to look into the deep brown of his. “How to make your knees weak.” He brushed his thumb along your cheekbone and whispered, “How to kiss you properly.”

He looked back down at your lips and waited. You knew he wanted to give you the time to pull away if you weren’t ready to take that step. You had waited so long to kiss him, though. You had wanted it for so long that you were a little afraid that if you didn’t kiss him, you’d never have the chance again.

He glanced back at your eyes and smiled. Just as he moved to give you space, you closed that distance. Your lips met his with an almost desperate passion. You brought your hands up to cradle his face, and he moved his around your torso to pull you closer. He brushed his tongue against your bottom lip and you let him in.

The two of you stayed like that until the oven timer went off, startling you into separating. Marcus rested his forehead against yours again.

“Dinner’s ready,” he laughed.

You chuckled and let go of him to grab dishes, but he tightened his hold. “I love you,” he said, looking into your eyes. “I love you, and I will wait as long as you need me to. You already mean the world to me.”

Your breath caught in your throat again at his reuse of the words you said to what you thought was a sleeping Marcus two months ago. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek and turned back around to turn off the timer and pull whatever he made out of the oven.

“So is this what I can expect for my relationship with Marcus Pike?”

He looked at you with a small smirk on his face. “A relationship, huh? I thought I’d have to take you on a date, first.”

The heat in your face was immediate. You’ve loved him since you were seven, of course you wanted a relationship with him. But he was right, there was no need to rush this.

“Well, a date would be nice, I guess.”

Marcus’ smile softened. “I’m just teasing you, Lance. I plan on romancing the hell out of you for as long as you’ll let me.”

“You’re a loony.”

He set the baking dish on a hot pad and turned to mime drawing a sword. “The black knight always triumphs.”

You hummed and matched his smile. “The only time you ever let me be King Arthur was when he faced the black knight. Did you just like having me pretend to cut all of your limbs off?”

Marcus chuckled and a light blush spread across his cheeks. “It always made you laugh. So yeah, I guess.”

“That’s it, right there.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“That’s how I fell in love with you. Those little things. You gave up playing your favorite character just because you knew it would make me laugh.”

He blushed deeper and looked bashful.

“I’d follow you anywhere, Marcus.”

“You won’t have to. Because whatever happens, it’ll be together.”

Together.

You liked the sound of that.

•

Everything was planned out. The two of you had gone to Bob and Edith’s for breakfast pancakes in the morning, you’d gone to the Smithsonian to see the O’Keefe exhibit they’d just brought in, and then you decided you’d have a little fun with it and go to a wine and painting class together, completely ironically. You’d secretly flown both of your parents in, and his sisters decided they wanted to be there, so they came in, too. The wine and painting would be just the two of you, and then they’d all come in and be there for the big question itself.

What you weren’t ready for was the instructor to recognize you, and ask you to lead the staff and Marcus in a painting.

“Well, this is really just something fun for my boyfriend and I to do together, I’d rather-”

Marcus put his hand on your shoulder and drew your attention to him. “How often does an opportunity like this come around? It’ll be fun, Lance.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. Damn him for being able to talk you into anything. That’s how two dogs and a cat had found a home in your shared townhouse. “Okay.”

The instructor squealed and rushed to hug you. “Oh my god, this is going to be great! Can we do a mini version of that mountain in autumn one you did last year? Please?” Her please was drawn out long like she was a kid asking for ice cream.

“Yeah, that’s fine, I guess.”

“This is going to be amazing! Okay, I’ll set everything up, you don’t have to do a thing except walk us through your process.”

Marcus ran his hands down your arms. “I know it’s not ideal, but you’re giving them such a cool experience. How often do they get to have such a legitimately professional painter show them how they work?”

“That’s not- I mean, sure, but there was a plan, and it’s getting messed up, and-”

“Breathe, baby. It’s just a silly date night. We’ll have many more, my love.”

You glanced over his shoulder and saw your family silently filing into the shop. The panic you felt suddenly multiplied.

“Why are you so upset about plans changing? You’re usually okay with a bit more of a go with the flow date.”

The instructor came out from the back room and looked past the two of you. “Oh, I’m sorry, this is a private party.”

Marcus turned to look at who they were talking to.

“Mom? Dad? What are all of you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but...”

Your dad nodded for him to look behind him, and when he turned, you were already knelt down.

“I have loved you since I was seven years old when you climbed the tree at the park to get my teddy that Blake Jones had thrown up there down. I loved you while you loved someone else, twice,” you winked at him. He had tears gathering in his eyes. “I will love you for as long as I’m breathing, and I’m sure long after that, too. You already mean the world to me. And I figure it’s about time you’re the one getting romanced. So, Marcus Alexander Pike,” you opened the black velvet box to reveal a simple platinum band, “Will you marry me?”

He looked up at the ceiling and chuckled as a tear fell. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Your family and the staff cheered as he pulled you up from the floor. “I love you.”

You took his hand and slid the ring on his finger. “I love you, too, Marcus. With everything I have in me.”

And as he leaned in to kiss you, you knew your heart was full. That this man was everything you’d ever wanted, and you knew he wanted you right back.

TAGS: @seasonschange-butpeopledont @plexflexico @din-damn-djarin @dirty-dancefl00r5 @cinewhore @aplaceofpeace @just--a--snail @thecrystalgempearl @mrschiltoncat @campamcam @littlevodika @keeper0fthestars @greengrassandcyansea @uncomicalhumour @agentpike @yespolkadotkitty @chaotic-noceur

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 18 -Chemistry

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, what will they do?, 2.5k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

“Two, three, four!” Alex counted off and the band sprung into action inside the studio. The one good thing about the drums was that it made him hyper aware of every limb on his body. There was no room for distractions or intrusive thoughts when he was keeping time. It was almost like the euphoria of being dizzy, only without the dizziness. He could be okay in this state for a little while - just long enough to reset his mind and declutter itself.

As they finished their take, they heard a familiar voice from the sound booth.

“Sounds incredible boys!”

Caleb. There went the whole ‘reset and declutter’ thing he had going.

Each of the guys looked around at each other, knowing they would have to do their best to pretend they didn’t know anything. This was the first time they were seeing him since Alex had given the news to the rest of the band. None of them had actually discussed what they would do the next time Caleb happened to stop in. Setting down their instruments and slowly filing into the sound booth, they all greeted Caleb, trying to appear happy to see him.

“Let’s hear that playback, shall we?” he said as they all sat together. He pressed a few knobs on his soundboard and they all listened closely to their own song. It was just gonna be another session with notes on where they could dub vocals here and there or duplicate tracks to fill things out - it had to be normal, Alex prayed.

“And let’s stop here for a minute,” Caleb was saying after getting into a couple minutes of the track. “Reggie. What happened to the bassline?” Reggie sat up, blinking at being called out. “That’s not what was on your demo; why did you change it?”

Reggie’s face had already fallen as he made flustered attempts to respond.

“I-I...I just liked that line better...I think it fits the style and the direction of the song,” he stammered, shoulders slumped, avoiding eye contact. His hands came together in his usual fidget - the one he did when he got yelled at. Alex saw Bobby’s hand curl into a fist.

“Alright, alright, trust me,” Caleb placated. “I understand, probably more than any of you, why improvising a part feels so good. I wouldn’t host a jazz club if I didn’t get that. But here the difference is that no one knows your songs yet, boys.”

“We’ve had faithful fans for years,” Luke interrupted.

Caleb cut him off with a mere look. Shutting his mouth, Luke scratched the back of his head nervously. After taking a breath, Caleb simply let out a sigh.

“Boys.” His tone was really drawing on the charisma, Alex noticed. “My job in helping you reach the stardom that you all one hundred percent deserve is to help you create a footprint on the walk of fame. A footprint means as beginners we can’t mess with the core elements that make your brand. These songs need to stay consistent until we have thousands of fans singing back to you in the audience the very lines you wrote in your humble garage. They need to know the first few seconds of that drumbeat and recall who you are on the radio. They are going to learn those basslines and those chords and add them to their own repertoire while they aspire to be legends like you! Don’t you see how important that is? I know. Playing around is fun; experimenting with new ideas and sounds is the whole reason we’re here. But from now on, I want you boys to stay in one lane, and I will match your speed.”

Eyeing each other warily, they all awkwardly murmured and nodded to agree with him. None of his words had been all that comforting. Alex was stuck thinking about how Caleb had made an appeal to every single one of them and somehow been right on the nose. It was like he could read their minds and it felt rather invasive.

“We’ll remember that,” Alex told him. He knew the other three were battling with their fight or flight responses and it would be suspicious.

“Oh, good,” Caleb replied. “I can see we’re having an off day, but maybe Alex can get the rest of you on board. Let’s run that song again.”

Exchanging glances, the guys stood up and headed back into the recording booth.

“Man, chemistry sucks,” Bobby complained from his seat in the armchair in his garage. Books were spread out around him, as well as about a dozen crumpled up pieces of notebook paper. “Reggie would get this.”

Alex looked up from the history homework he’d been focused on. He was gaining such an ear for whenever Reggie or Bobby mentioned one another and it made him laugh inwardly. For now, though, he had to hide the smirk.

“Well, I would call him, but he’s taking care of his sister tonight.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t want to bother him anyways.”

This was one of the rare occasions where it was just Alex and Bobby together. Usually at least Luke would be around, but he was out on some date with Julie and there was no telling when he was expected back. Bobby had been helping Alex with history for a little bit but about half an hour ago remembered his own homework in a panic. Now they were both having trouble focusing. Their time in the studio that morning was clearly still on both of their minds.

“Hey, did Reggie tell you we were playing for his cousin’s wedding?” Alex asked in a non sequitur fashion.

“What?” Bobby said, finally sitting up and tearing his eyes off the diagram he was making. “No, he didn’t. Since when was that happening?”

“I’ve known for a couple weeks,” Alex told him casually.

“Oh.” Bobby looked down at the floor. “Any reason you haven’t mentioned it until now?”

Alex shifted in his seat on the couch at the suspicion in Bobby’s voice, but tried to play it off with a shrug.

“I just forgot. We’ve had a lot going on since he mentioned it to me.”

It did the trick. Still, Bobby sat in thought for a while, playing with his tongue inside his mouth absent-mindedly. Alex physically bit his own tongue to keep himself from asking what was on Bobby’s mind and pretended to turn his attention back to his history work. There was a long, static pause.

“Reggie’s been really weird lately,” Bobby said.

“Is that so?” Alex didn’t look up this time.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s always been goofy and everything, but I mean, he’s been unusual even for him. You know what I mean?”

“I guess I haven’t been paying as close of attention.” Alex flipped a page in his text book. “But I’ll take your word. Are you worried about him?”

Furrowing his brow, Bobby frowned in thought.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I mean, I always worry about him, you know, cuz of everything he deals with at home. But I don’t know...this is different.”

“Is it because of what Caleb said today?”

“I didn’t like that either, but no, that’s not it.”

He looked so serious that Alex couldn’t find it funny anymore. Actually, Bobby seemed so distressed by it that it was making Alex distressed.

“Hey,” he said with concern. “Why do you look so bummed about it?”

He received a glance as though a great weight sat upon Bobby’s shoulders. It was so familiar it shot him in the chest. His friend looked so lost and uncertain, so afraid to speak his mind. And Alex thought Reggie had been conflicted. It was a little worrying.

“I think you actually know what's going on, huh?” Bobby said in resignation.

Nope. Now it was just frustrating. Alex sat up and looked at Bobby directly.

“Okay, I know expressing yourself isn’t your strong suit, Bobby, but please say it out loud. You can do it. Especially with me.”

His friend’s eyebrows knit together even further, trying to convince himself to get it off his chest. A minute passed, and finally he shut his chemistry book, set it aside, and faced Alex.

“I have feelings for Reggie.”

Thank god.

“Good job! You’re officially the last to know!”

Bobby’s face fell into a confused expression.

“What?”

Alex merely shrugged. They were so helpless, but luckily he was better at trying to solve others’ problems than his own.

“I had to let you come to your own conclusion. It was exhausting; you took forever.”

Bobby folded his hands and fidgeted with his thumbs.

“How long have you noticed?”

“Technically? Since before playing at the Pearl. But that’s when it really started to be obvious.”

Smirking, Bobby just bowed and shook his head.

“You know,” he began. “When I was first getting to know you, I didn’t trust you. Luke and I were already so close, and he introduced me to you and Reggie and you two already were such good friends. For a while I couldn’t figure out when you were being sarcastic or serious and I didn’t want to admit I was too sensitive. Reggie helped me figure out the difference and I just sort of dropped anything I was upset about.”

Alex listened carefully, nodding at his words.

“And now you’ve started getting all personal because you know I’m the most trustworthy one here, right?” he half-teased.

Nodding, Bobby smiled a little.

“I guess this is the part where you tell me to get my crap together and tell Reggie?”

“Yep,” Alex said. “But go at your own pace. The last thing I want is you two making things even weirder than they already are by trying to discuss things when you’re not prepared. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great, but don’t forget the rest of the band in the process.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bobby pondered. “You have a point. Speaking of weird business, I’m still not cool about us pretending to go along with making the album while knowing what we do about Caleb.”

“Me neither, but I think Luke was right. We’re just being careful.”

“Since when is Sunset Curve careful, though? We would just set up and play wherever we could until we got chased off the property, and then we’d just find a new location the next night.”

“The difference is we were nobody fifteen year olds who didn’t have contracts signed. You said it yourself, we could risk losing the rights to our own music if we break things off.”

“We read the contracts, though, right?” Bobby insisted. “I made sure we did. I don’t remember anything that seemed too controlling in them.”

“Would we have known what to look for?” Alex responded.

Sighing heavily and flopping back into his chair, Bobby stared up into the ceiling. It felt like no good answer could be given. Alex was frustrated too, but he remembered what Tía Victoria had told him as well. He believed Willie, of course, especially since Victoria hadn’t actually seen or spoken to him. She hadn’t been able to get a sniff of Caleb’s true nature, and she was a professional investigator. If Caleb could fool her that easily, he’d tied their hands while they willingly held them out.

“Bobby,” Alex started. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we should stop laying ourselves on the ground and letting him walk all over us. None of this ‘establish the brand’ B.S.”

Straightening his posture, Alex sat up and folded his hands. That was exactly what he wanted to do, too. Even if he didn’t know anything else about Caleb, the way he’d gone after Reggie had left a sour enough taste in his mouth. Before he could say anything else to Bobby, Luke stepped into the garage.

“Guys, I was thinking - ” he started.

“You wanna go after Caleb too?” Bobby said.

“Whoa, how did you know?” he sat back in surprise.

“Bobby and I were just talking about it,” Alex told him. Luke raised his eyebrows as he flopped onto the couch beside Alex.

“Were you guys mad when he singled out Reggie, too?”

“Yes!”

“Nobody shames Reggie like that!”

“Bobby, you should go cheer him up,” Luke suggested. “We all know you’re in love with him.”

“Oh my god!” Bobby cried, throwing his arms into the air in exasperation. Immediately he stood up and gathered all his books. “Just for that, I’m turning in you guys. Have a nice night, Alex. Luke, I hope it’s cold.” He stormed out of the garage and into his house while Luke and Alex simply laughed together.

“I, uh… I already gave him a speech about it,” Alex told Luke, smirking.

“Thank you!” Luke cried. “I know they tease me about being dense but at least I go for what I want! And so do you!”

Smiling at the acknowledgement of him and Willie, Alex slowly started packing up his homework. He could finish it tomorrow night.

“By the way, how was hanging out with Julie?” he asked.

Placing his arms behind his head, Luke got that dreamy far-off look on his face. The ‘Julie on the mind’ look. He smiled like he’d seen an angel and the angel had smiled back in kind.

“Oh, she’s awesome. She’s way better at roller skating than me. I wish there were two of me just so one of us could hold her hand while skating with her and the other could sit down and watch.”

Alex made a face at the odd visual, but he understood what Luke was talking about. He wondered what he and Willie looked like from an outside perspective. Did they look as happy as he felt? Did Willie bring out something in him that he’d never seen in the mirror? Or even something the rest of the guys didn’t know yet? That was something he really wanted to discuss with Willie now.

“I can’t wait until her mom gets out of the hospital,” Luke was saying. “I want to learn everything she can teach me. She told me she took two years just working on the production of an album for her band. Imagine what we could do with our songs if we had her in the studio instead of Caleb.”

“Wow,” Alex commented. “At this point, I really wish we were working with the Molinas. At least they seem to get us.”

Luke looked at him and Alex knew he’d heard all the underlying meaning in that sentence. All the guys had been accepted by Julie’s family in a way none of their own seemed capable of. Alex almost wished he hadn’t said it out loud because it only tempted him to forget about heading home.

“Maybe one day, we will, Alex,” Luke said, giving him an encouraging smile.

He chuckled as he shouldered his backpack and headed out the door.

“Yeah. That’d be sweet.”

[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.

[samwrights]

Two Little Lines Pt. 2

More babies!! WOW I’M SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO MAKE A WHOLE ASS FIC OUT OF FUKATUCHI.

Er, warning? Implied alcoholism in Semi’s.

Terushima;

To say that you and Terushima lived a perfect life together would be an outright lie.

Sure, the two of you had been together since your guys’ third year of high school and you have always found a way to make the relationship work.

But you were so tired.

So tired of acting more like his mother than his girlfriend of the last four years. He hardly helped around the apartment, never cooked a meal, and if he was home and not passed out, he’d ditch you to go hang out with his friends.

It just didn’t feel like a relationship anymore; it felt like you were roommates who slept in the same bed.

And Terushima Yūji was entirely oblivious to the fact.

To say that it broke your heart would be an understatement.

But even so, you held onto the hope that you and Teru would make this all work and everything would go back to the way it used to be.

Hope in the form of crying out the anguish in your soul every night as you went to bed.

You ain’t slick though, but Terushima just doesn’t know what to do—

he’s terrified to confront you about this because what if you finally realize that he’s really just a piece of shit and you should have left years ago?

I love Terushima but lowkey I feel like he’s toxic 💀

But he tries—tries in the form of actually talking about topics that have real substance for the first time in months.

It actually goes rather well!

Too well.

It was nice to have your boyfriend back, even if temporarily.

To have human, physical contact with him was needed.

But also landed you in your current predicament—sitting on your bathroom floor, waiting for the results of the pregnancy test you felt you needed to buy earlier.

You were tired—way more than usual lately. The morning sickness, however, was what prompted you.

It was currently 2am. Yūji would be home soon from wherever he decided to go to, and the timer on your phone goes off signaling for you to check.

Not that you needed nor wanted the confirmation, but the two little lines were the nail in the coffin.

Lmaofuck.

“[name]?” Terushima calls out from the hallway. He must’ve noticed you weren’t in bed despite the late hour.

Hearing his voice brought tears to your eyes and you wished you could lie and say they were from joy.

The sobs are what captures his attention, prompting him to barge into the bathroom. “Babe? What’s wrong?”

You don’t say anything; you’re afraid you’ll say everything you’d been harboring inside for years. Instead, you point to the pregnancy test with a shaky finger.

“Wha—oh. Oh!” Aside from the three syllables that left his lips, he had no idea what else to say.

Because he knows.

Terushima knows that things haven’t been going all that great and the both of you just loved each other too much to let the other go.

“I don’t know what to do, Yūji.” Your voice is devoid of all emotion, reflecting the emptiness you’d been feeling for so long.

“The choice is yours, always. But...” Terushima comes to sit with you on the tiled floor, tugging at your cheek so that you can look at him. “This is my sign, I guess, that I have to be better. We aren’t kids anymore, shit we could be having a kid—I can’t just do whatever the hell I want.”

“You shouldn’t have been in the first place,” you seeth, “Yūji, we’ve been in a partnership since high school.”

“And you’ve been carrying the team.” At least he acknowledges it. “Now you’re literally carrying the team.”

“Dude,” you smack his arm lightly, not missing his joke. “Be serious.”

“I am. I mean it. I don’t want to lose you, [name], so I’m going to try. I want to be better for you, for both of you.”

Semi;

Was Semi Eita perfect? No.

Did you need him to be perfect? Also no.

But for the last three years, there had always been some kind of disconnect between you two regarding what you wanted for the future.

You both were incredibly supportive of each other’s respective paths—shit, you were Semi’s biggest fan when it came to his music.

But considering he often had to travel, he just couldn’t see eye to eye with you and your need for stable roots.

What was the point of spending money on a house when your two bedroom apartment suited you just fine?

He did concede to the two of you getting a dog, so that was nice at least.

But above all, you wanted to be a family. Married, kids, a yard—the whole package. He knew this, but always had an excuse.

“My career is just taking off. If we get married, I don’t want to abandon either of you—I want to be able to dedicate the proper time to both of you.” Okay, fair.

“We don’t have enough saved for a house yet.” Also fair.

“Being a parent is a full time job.” He had valid points to everything, but that did little to quell your desires.

But for Semi, you were willing to make some sacrifices.

Kinda.

However, Semi doesn’t notice the subtle changes that have come from you.

You’re working more, home less, and if you were home, you’d already have had dinner and hanging out in the bathtub while chugging a bottle of wine.

At first, Eita just thinks that you’ve had a rough day at work or something and he gives you your space.

But one bottle turns into four, and he’s had to carry you out of the tub more than once or twice.

“Babe, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Semi had left work early one day just to make sure he caught you before you started your evening ritual.

“Nothing’s wrong, Eita!” But he could hear the forced optimism along with the way your grin didn’t make your cheekbones close your eyes at the corner like they always did.

“[name], please. Don’t shut me out.” Have you ever heard Semi Eita beg? No? That’s cause it never happens.

“I swear, I’m fine! Just had—“

“A hard day at work, I know. I don’t doubt that but you’re avoiding me, babe. Just tell me what’s going on.”

You don’t know how to answer without being selfish. You know what Semi wants out of life and you had comes to terms with it. So why couldn’t you just let it go?

“I-I just...need time. To come to terms with the fact that we want different things in life.” If Semi was a crier, he would have right then and there. Watching the air leave your lungs in broken bubbles coming up as hiccups as you cried broke his heart.

“Do we? I just want you.”

For the first time in months, you didn’t pick up a bottle. After having dinner together, you finally got to be in the comfort of your loving, life partner.

Fast forward to present day—two months later you still indulge yourself in one glass of wine but no more bottles in the bathtub.

Semi’s thankful af for that 💀 even it wasn’t the ideal recovery

But he notices you’ve been waking up in the middle of the night to go throw up, and he’s starting to wonder if there were days you were sneaking them in.

“Eita, I swear I stopped doing that.” He’s giving you benefit of the doubt, trying to come up with other potential culprits.

There were days when you would PMS bad enough to make you sick.

But never for more than a few days—you were entering week 2.

“I’m calling the doctor,” he declares after you’d hurled for the third time that day. When he sees your hesitance, he adds, “I don’t think this is normal withdrawal. You never quit cold turkey, so I just wanna make sure you’re safe.”

Semi Eita’s intuition is both a blessing and a curse.

Blessing, in the sense that he was 100% right in regards to you needing to see a doctor.

Curse, because the two of you found out that you were pregnant. And while the two of you were doing much better than you were a few months ago, the “talk” about your future had never resurfaced.

“So, what are we going to do, Eita?”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to consolidate my studio to make room for a nursery and I’ll probably have to start working from home part time at least to help you out—“

“Wait, what?” Why did he make it sound like you were keeping the baby?

“Well I’m not gonna leave you to do this alone, [name]. It’s my kid too.”

“Semi-Semi, you don’t want kids.”

“Yeah, but I want you.” He sounds so sure, so confident, that you aren’t even sure if the man beside you is really your boyfriend. “And by association, that includes our baby.”

Futakuchi;

Oh my god.

Why—or rather how in the fuck did this happen to you?

Well, you know how it happened. You did have sex education when you were in high school, after all.

But you and Fukatuchi always used condoms—there was no room for negotiation on that.

Part of you wishes you would have broken off this hook up arrangement a long time ago

But you know you’re lying to yourself because the two of you just meshed so well.

Almost like a real couple, but you knew that a relationship was the last thing he wanted.

And now, you sat on your bathroom floor with your head buried on your knees after throwing the pregnancy test that revealed two little lines of positivity.

Well, fuck.

You start dodging his 2am calls, passing it off as you had a paper or a lab that you desperately needing to finish.

Kenji isn’t buying it. He knows you’re always on top of your schoolwork.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Comes a text in broad daylight—something comepletely atypical of Futakuchi.

Avoiding turns into ignoring as you’re almost three months pregnant.

To which he calls out with another text send before booty call hours. “Alright, this is getting ridiculous. Whoever you’re fucking now can’t be better than me. Just answer me and I’ll prove it.”

Blocked.

Another weak goes by and, surprisingly, your pregnancy has been relatively smooth. Even if it did suck going through it alone.

A part of you missed Futakuchi. Not that you’d ever tell him that. But you tried to tell yourself you missed the D and nothing else.

But you missed the way he’d hold you overnight, occasionally brushing hair out of your face almost endearingly. You missed the warmth, the lust fueled kisses that you swore were almost loving.

Only to remember he was always gone before you woke up. He was only a booty call, and you had to remind yourself of that.

So why the fuck was he at your doorstep in the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday?

“Why the fuck did you block me?” He snarls, barreling his way into your apartment. You were so thankful that you were wearing an oversized hoodie and that you weren’t showing that much yet. .

“Dude, get out. Obviously, I blocked you for a reason.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to get out of this so easily. You would have told me if you started seeing someone else—“ his wording slips, he knows it, but Futakuchi can’t bring himself to fix the statement.

“We weren’t seeing each other in the first place!” The words sting him like rubbing alcohol on a fresh wound.

You try to usher him out of the apartment but, thanks to you being 16 weeks along and much weaker than him, your efforts are futile.

“You’re so cute when you play hard to get.” He retorts, wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you off the ground to carry you both out of the door way.

But as soon as he does, you’re immediately prying yourself away—fearful that he can feel your hardening belly. Fighting him off, however, seemed to make him squeeze harder. “Kenji, let me go! Fuck!”

He notices the use of his first name. He notices the flailing. But most of all, he noticed that your body felt different, even underneath the plush cloth of your hoodie.

He lets you go, unceremoniously dropping you into the ground out of shock because he finally is putting the pieces together. “You’re pregnant?”

“Get out, Kenji.”

“So you didn’t wanna see me because you’re pregnant? I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand the logic here,” his tone is snarky, painted with a vicious bite, “unless you were hooking up with someone else at the same time is me, there was no reason for you to keep this from me.”

But he knew that you weren’t. He knew by the way you’d clutch at his chest lovingly after sex that part of you longed for a real relationship with him.

And by the way it took everything in him to not stay through the morning, Kenji knew that somewhere along the lines, he wanted it too.

And he planned on telling you the last time he called, just before you started avoiding him.

“There was only you.” You answer quietly to the implied question.

“So, it’s mine.” He states bluntly. Losing your voice, you only nod. “You know,” he starts again slowly after you’ve both nodded off to a silent lull, “I started texting you in the middle of the day because I didn’t want you to think it was just about sex anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I actually wanted to give us a try, but I wasn’t sure if you’d break things off if you didn’t want to move forward, and I didn’t wanna risk finding out.”

“And now, instead, you’re finding out that you’re going to be a dad.”

💀💀💀 I-

Haikyuu!! Tag List - Let me know if you’d like to be added!

@hihiq​ @dreamyjaems @tamcitrus

[drivingsideways]

k-drama rec list

Prior to 2020 I’d maybe watched 2 k-dramas in my entire life, but this year I got sucked in, thanks to some great recs, and y’know, *gestures * everything.  

I think I’d held off watching kdramas because my impression of them was limited to romances that I didn’t enjoy at all. But this was the year I discovered the equivalent of “gen fic” kdrama- dramas that had wonderful ensemble casts, strong story lines that weren’t entirely romance focused and also a variety in terms of themes and styles. A big plus was that I found so many of these dramas had women leading the writers’ room, and seeing the effect of that in the story telling. (Notable exceptions: a certain “star” writer who should please stop inflicting her badly written, formulaic crap on the world, yes Kim Eun-Sook, I mean you, and whoever wrote that trashfire Flower of Evil)

So here I am with my own rec list! Caveat- these are mostly not the dramas released in 2020, I’m still playing catch up! :)

Under the cut for length

My Mister/ My Ahjussi  (2018, Written by Park Hae-Young, Directed by Kim Won-Seok, starring Lee Sun-kyun and Lee Ji-eun aka IU) 

This was definitely my absolute favourite of the shows I watched this year across western/ asian media. It’s a story about the thread that binds us all and the ineffability of human connection. It’s also a story that deconstructs ideas of masculinity and honour and shame in a non-western context, but with an extremely compassionate touch.  It’s a story that doesn’t shy away from showing the consequences of material and spiritual poverty; and how one can so easily feed into the other. It’s a love story that isn’t a romance, except that it’s a Romance. It’s about finding salvation in one another and in the kindness of strangers.  It’s about choosing life, and picking yourself up off the floor to take that one last step and then the next and then the next. The one quibble I have with the series is that it could have been better paced, it does get extremely slow after the half way mark. But god, do they land the ending. Both Lee Sun-kyun and IU turn in absolutely heartbreaking performances, and fair warning, be prepared to go through an entire box of tissues watching this series. 

Life  (2018,  written by Lee Soo-yeon  and directed by Hong Jong-chan, starring Lee Dong-wook, Cho Seung-woo, Won Jin-ah, Lee Kyu-hyung, Yoo Jae-myung and Moon So-ri.)

Medical dramas are very much not my thing, and I wouldn’t have taken a chance on it except that @michyeosseo said I should, and she was right! It’s a medical drama in the sense that it’s set in a hospital, but rather than a “case-fic” format, this is actually a sharp commentary on the corporatization of health care, and the business of mixing, well, money and what should be a fundamental human right. Writer Lee Soo-yeon was coming off the global success of Stranger/Secret Forest S1 when this aired, so I understand that expectations were probably sky-high, and people were disappointed when this show didn’t give them the adrenaline rush that they wanted. On the other hand, I thought that this outing was really much more nuanced in terms of the politics and also how the ending doesn’t allow you the luxury of easy-fixes. This show has a great ensemble cast, and while it took me a while to get used to Lee Dong-wook’s woodenness (i ended up calling him mr.cadaver after watching this and was surprised to learn that he’s very popular?), in the end I was quite sold on his version of angry angst-bucket elder-sibling Dr.Ye Jin-woo. His best scenes were with Lee Kyu-hyung who turns in a lovely, achy performance as the paraplegic Dr. Ye Seon-woo who just wants to live a normal life. The love story between the two brothers is actually the emotional backbone of the story, and I think they landed that perfectly. 

My one quibble with writer-nim is that she ended up writing in a forgettable and somewhat (for me at least) uncomfortable romance between the characters played by Won Jin-ah and Cho Seung-Woo. I think part of my uncomfortable-feeling was that I got the strong sense that the writer herself didn’t want to write this romance, it was as if she was being made to shoe-horn it in for Studio Reasons, and she basically grit her teeth and did the worst possible job of it.  I do wish we could have absolutely had the OT3 of my dreams: Moon So-ri/Cho Seung-woo/Yoo Jae-myung like, c’mon TV gods MAKE IT HAPPEN, just...look at them!!!! 

Anyway, that apart, I think this was a very engaging series, and by engaging, I also mean thirst-enabling, see below. 

 Stranger (aka Secret Forest  or Forest of Secrets) S1 & 2 : (2017-, Written by Lee Soo-yeon, directed by 

2017′s smash hit aired a much anticipated second season in 2020, and I managed to catch up just in time to watch that live, so that was thrilling :D . Writer Lee Soo-yeon  mixes up thriller/office comedy/political commentary in an ambitious series. I think S1 is more “exciting” than S2 in terms of the mystery and pacing,  but S2 is far more dense and interesting in terms of political commentary because it takes a long hard look at institutional corruption and in true writer-nim fashion doesn’t prescribe any easy solutions. Anyway, please enjoy public prosecutor Cho Seung-woo and police officer Bae Doona as partners/soulmates kicking ass and taking names in pursuit of Truth, Justice and just a goddamn peaceful meal, along with a stunningly competent ensemble cast. Also yes, Han Yeo Jin is a lesbian, sorry, I don’t make the rules. 

Search: WWW  (2019, Written by Kwon Do-Eun, directed by Jung Ji-hyun & Kwon Young-il, starring  Im Soo-jung, Lee Da-hee, Jeon Hye-jin)

GOD. Where do I start? +1000 for writer Kwon Do-Eun saying “fuck the patriarchy” in the most grandiose way possible, i.e. absolutely refusing to acknowledge that it exists. Yes, this is that power fantasy, and it’s also a fun, slice-of-life  tale about three women navigating their way through work, romance, national politics and everything in between. It’s true that I wasn’t entirely sold on the amount of time spent on the romance, and I really wish they’d actually had a textual wlw romance, though the subtext through the entire series is PRACTICALLY TEXT. But still, it maintains that veneer of plausible deniability and I think queer fans who are sick of that kind of treatment in media have a very valid grouse against the show. On the other hand, personally I felt that the queer-platonic vibe of the show is very wonderful and true to real life, and it was only reinforced by the ending. This is a show written by a woman for women (like me), and it shows. 

Hyena  (2020, Written by Kim Roo-Ri, directed by Jang Tae-yoo & Lee Chang Woo, starring  Kim Hye-soo and Ju Ji-hoon )

Those of you who’ve been watching hit zombie epic Kingdom are probably familiar with Ju Ji-hoon’s brand of sexiness already. I had not watched Kingdom and got hit in the face by Mr.Sexy McSexyPants’ turn as a brash, privileged-by-birth, up and coming lawyer who gets completely runover by the smoking hot and incredibly dangerous fellow lawyer/competitor from the other side of the tracks in the person of Kim Hye-Soo. When I say they set the room on fire, I mean it, ok. Every single scene between these two is an actual bonfire of sexual attraction and emotional hand grenades, and they’re both absolutely riveting to watch. “Flower of Evil” wishes they had what this show has- an actual grown up romance as opposed to a thirteen year old twilight fan’s idea of an adult romance. 

The “lawyer” shenanigans and the “cases” are hit or miss, and I think the occasional comedy fell flat for me. But that’s not why I mainlined like 6 episodes of this series overnight like a coke addict, and that’s not why you’re going to do it either. It’s so RARE, even in these enlightened days to find a female character like Jung Geum-ja: hard as nails, unapologetic about it, and not punished by the narrative for it. The best part for me is that she feels like a woman’s woman, not a man’s idea of what a Strong Female Character should be. Anyways, when I grow up I want to have what Kim Hye-soo has ok?

Other dramas that I watched this year, quickly rated:

The King: Eternal Monarch (3/10 and those 3 points are only for the combined goodness of second leads who deserved better- Jung Eun Chae, Woo Do Hwan and Kim Kyung Nam. Please head over to my AO3 and read my attempts to fix this garbage fire and rescue their characters from canon)

Flower of Evil (-10/100, dont @ me)

Tale of the Nine Tailed (5/10, I think it succeeds at what it set out to do, which is a light hearted, sweet fantasy-romance-melodrama, plus “second lead” Kim Beom will make you cry as the hot mess of a half human/ half fox spirit ALL TEARS character. I think if you’re into kdrama romances as a genre, this is probably a good bet?)

Signal  (7/10,  This was the first full kdrama I watched this year and would definitely recommend. It’s a police procedural with time travel shenanigans and has an engaging plot, good pacing, texture and compelling performances. My one disappointment with it was the way they wrote Kim Hye-soo’s character. As literally the only female character to survive in any way, she was given short shrift, and toward the end it really began to grate on me.)

Six Flying Dragons - (7/10, also would recommend if you’re interested in Korean historicals. It definitely already feels a bit dated in terms of styling and production values, and even scripting and acting choices. But it has a good balance of fantasy and history and political commentary. I was not a fan of Yoo In-Ah’s performance in this series, but it’s not anything that would make you want to nope out of the series. It’s GoT , if GoT was thoughtful about politics and characters and not the misogynist, racist trashfire that it became.)

My Country: The New Age - (3.5/10, and that’s 3 points to Jang Hyuk’s fan and 0.5.points to Woo Do Hwan’s heaving bosom. If you like your historical drama/fantasy with very pretty men, very gay subtext -seriously RIP to show makers who thought they could hetero it but didn’t account for Woo Do Hwan’s Tragic Face- lots of blood and tears and very nonsense plot, this is right up your alley. I probably would have enjoyed it more in other circumstances, I think? But this one just annoyed me too much at the time! 

I have a couple of more dramas to watch on my list, that’ll probably carry me over into 2021, so see ya on the other side! :D

[creativeashproductions]

What If...? IV // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: 1997 and 1998 are big years for Luke Patterson and his fiancée with their engagement and wedding planning. If you thought wedding planning and the wedding itself was the big things well, you’d be wrong. I mean this is the couple that almost ended with a car accident. Join the year long adventure.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy, minor angst, sweet groom!Luke, and fluff

Words: 3.3k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog. There is one more part after this. 🥺😭

A/N: It’s finally here! The Patterson-Y/L/N wedding makes its appearance here and a little cameo of a future character. The next part is the last part in the miniseries as well. Enjoy.

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Masterlist

Hollywood 1997

An entire year had flown by from the day of your engagement to Luke filled with frustration, elation and greatness. Sunset Curve toured around California, leaving the Y/L/N-Patterson women to plan the wedding. Nineteen years old now in the modestly sized apartment, Luke sat beside you in the bathroom.

Two nervous teenagers a mere month away from their wedding day they cuddled each other eyes pinned at the floor. Apprehensive of the stick that held power to change everything in their lives. For the last week, you hadn’t felt very well with being tired and nausea laying you out in bed.

“It’s been long enough.” Luke murmured reaching for the test, “No matter what. I love you.”

Kissing his cheek, the two of you slumped at the negative with surprising emotion. The negative greatly disappointed you.

“I’m sorry,” Luke mumbled to his fiancée equally torn up because while the timing wasn’t perfect, he had pictured what life would be like.

A tiny baby growing in his fiancée womb, growing into bump made flutters in his belly. Of love, he already felt for your future unborn children and snuggling his kids. Introducing them to his loved ones and bonding over music. Teaching his son or daughter how to play the guitar.

He’d love to see his parents cradle a new addition to the family freshly born with the tiny knit hat Emily couldn’t resist making. Sharing a celebratory beer with his father and wisdom for the coming years. To learn the parental reason of why they had been against his career choice.

“I really wanted it to be positive.” You admitted playing with your fingers disappointed at being wrong about your body. Luke smiled as your words as he grabbed your hand in his calloused grip.

“Do you…do you want to try for a baby?” Luke trailed off flushing at how beautiful you would look growing his child. The bathroom was quiet as you thought the idea over, “With the tour just finishing the band will be writing music and recording. I could be here for the whole pregnancy and birth.”

“If we get pregnant in the next month. But we’re also getting married in a few months.” You sighed leaning to rest about his bare arm staring at the pregnancy test.

“If it happens then it happens.” Luke spoke, “If you want, we can try.”

Raising your eyes to meet Luke’s you hesitantly nodded at his words as it settled that is there ever a perfect time to get pregnant? So many people struggle with conception like your parents did with you; your mother’s labour was so complicated that you’d never have siblings.

“Okay.” Luke breathed, standing up to scoop you into his arms, “Best get on with it.”

The laughter filled the simple bedroom as Luke crawled over your body to hover with a matching smile. There was no one else in the world that could get his heart fluttering and focus on something other than music. It was terrific, and he couldn’t be mad about.

“So, Rockstar…are you gonna help?” You whispered tugging on the chain of his necklace to drag his face closer. Closing the distance, Luke’s lips brushed yours before time stopped in a collision of senses.

The callouses of his fingers trailing a fire under the flowing shirt chosen for the lunch date earlier. The warmth of his hands nowhere close enough to match the heat your body burnt with. The taste of the cherry chapstick he shamelessly stole from you, but it was the heady scent of Luke that got you.

 Luke heavily breathed as he pulled back with a hazy gaze with the green almost overtaken by the black pupils. No hesitation as your lips sucked on his neck, bringing a gravelly moan from the man over you, a sound that caused your lower half to clench. Legs unable to fully close as his fingers drew symbols on your inner thigh.

Symbols that spelt out his full name. Now that was really hot.

A gasp pulled from your throat you arched as a hand came up to cup your breast in his hand; Luke could argue all he wanted, but he was boob man when it came to you.

Thoughts disappearing the ecstasy with the love of your life overtook your senses.

July 1998

The white dress was a little snugger than the previous month, but you had a good reason for it. A tiny little blob had taken up residence in your womb with a sickness that lasts all day from day one until the start of trimester two. Getting pregnant had to be easy with Luke from the number of times.

Didn’t matter where you were when Luke tugged you away. The small bathroom in the studio? Three times.

Luke’s couch? Yeah, Alex refuses to sit there now.

At this point, you had been everywhere, trying for a baby was incredibly fun, but the hormones sucked. Luke’s deft fingers creating the chords of a song? Bobby banned you from rehearsals, and you had an emergency bag of clothes as well.

“You look gorgeous.” Nancy Y/L/N told her daughter with tears glittering in her eyes as she took in the sight of her daughter. The wedding dress the bridesmaids, mother’s and Alex had hunted for; the boy had tagged along as he was like a brother. Reggie, Bobby and Luke had spent the day with Mitch and Lance.

A sob broke from the lips of Lance; his baby girl no longer needed him with her soon to be husband. There was no one in the world he trusted more with his daughter than Luke Patterson. The boy never placed the band ahead of his fiancée, and it was quickly noticed how much Luke adored the Y/L/N girl.

“Dad.” You spoke, rushing to hug the man in your arms, “Stop crying. You’ll make me cry.”

Lance was able to hold his tears until the music started and the doors opened to the venue that Luke’s parents married in. Luke stood at the altar with Bobby, Alex, and Reggie. On the opposite side stood your best friend, a childhood friend and your close cousin.

“You look beautiful,” Dad told you slowly making their way to the man cupping his hands over his face. Overtaken by your beauty and the glow, Luke thanked Lance.

“Baby, you look like an Angel,” Luke whispered, squeezing your hands tightly in his as the ceremony began.

“It’s rare that one can find their soulmate, the other half of themselves on such a large plant. Luke and Y/N orbited each other as young children and fell in love in a perfect place. For those of you who don’t know, these two met as a concert. The first step to falling in love. Music is important to this couple.” The officiant spoke, “Luke’s mother told me once that music tethered their souls together, they truly met at a concert, and every important moment had a song.”

Luke’s eyes watered meeting the brown of his mother’s love-filled eyes holding hands with her husband. Luke had no clue how much his mother came to accept, and he felt the relationship fully fix itself as it settled that his Mom had personally made the ceremony better.

 “These two souls came together and became one. Luke and Y/N’s love is rare and beautiful. Today these two had decided to make their own vows.” The officiant finished, “Luke if you could start.”

“There has always music in my heart and soul since childhood. I adored listening and begging my parents for new music. My parents, one year, gave me a guitar as a gift, and it started a deep passion in my soul. I made a band with my best friends, and the band brought me to a person that would become more important. Y/N, I had had a crush on you for a long time before you first spoke to me. I had hit Reggie in the calf with my father’s car, and you made a joke about my height. It wouldn’t be until years later than I somehow convinced you to take a chance.” Luke squeezed your hands, “I love music because it brought me to you.”

“Luke. I am absolutely positive that I have loved you for more than this lifetime as my love is so vast and deep. I believe we have been destined since the dawn of time to find each other together by music. I can’t compete with your vows because you have a way with words with the songwriting you’ve done. You’ve been there through the hard times and best times holding my hand ready to catch me if I fell. I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives catching each other when we need it.”

“May the rings be presented?” The officiant asked with a smile as your best friend and Alex gave the rings.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Luke whispered as he slid the band to rest against your engagement ring. You repeated the words as you slid the band on his finger as well.

“I now pronounce you as man and wife. Mr. Patterson, you may kiss your wife.” The officiant spoke, sending the room into applause.

You and Luke ran down the aisle still holding hands with the biggest smiles of your entire life to the limo that would deliver you to the reception. Luke couldn’t help himself as he pressed kisses all over. This was a glorious day for the musician, his career was going really well, and he married the most beautiful girl.

“God, I love you.” Luke murmured to the girl in the white dress. Leaning closer for another kiss, Luke froze.

Digging into his ankle was a heavy object. Your nervous eyes glittered under the dimmed lighting in the limo. Never-ending eye contact Luke lifted a moderately heavy wooden chalkboard. Written on the sign was: ‘Unofficial flower girl or ring bearer’.

“Are you serious?” Luke asked gobsmacked at the news that heightened the greatness of his wedding day. Eyes flickering to meet yours he watched as your hand unzipped a hidden pocket on your dress.

Flat on your hand was a pregnancy test similar to the one you took months back. The only difference being this one had two lines.

“AS serious as a heart attack. There will be a baby Patterson in six months.” The laugh was joyful as your lips parted.

Luke wasted absolutely no time in setting his hand on the slight bump the dress had covered, “This is why you mentioned your dress being snugger?”

“Mhm.” You replied, stroking the softness of his cheekbone in pure love with him and the life you carried, “We’re in for a wild ride Patterson.”

“Bring it on.” Luke finished kissing your cheek as the limo came to a stop in front of a large venue. The duo you ran inside where your wedding guests threw paper airplanes that Reggie had suggested.

Each airplane had a personal note from your friends and family along that would be gathered into a binder. Reggie had found out that rice wasn’t good for birds and while the reception was inside, he couldn’t do it. So, he brought the idea of paper airplanes; in class, the boys would throw airplanes at each other. It was a nod to their adolescence.

“I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Patterson,” Alex announced into the microphone set on the stage with Sunset Curve’s instruments. It didn’t surprise anyone that the band would play at the wedding.

On the stage, a beautiful Hispanic woman played a soft piano ballad, if you could recall that maybe the bartender from the Orpheum. Her name was on the tip of your tongue as Luke twirled you into his arms with a big grin.

“Mrs. Patterson.” You hummed tugging him to the head table with where your wedding party would join as well. The second Luke helped you sit he knelt down to reach the box covertly placed.

Your eyebrows came together as he opened it, revealing two matching pairs of personalized vans; following the wedding theme one pair was white and another black. On the right shoe, it had ‘just married’ with the wedding date while the left shoe had a picture from your engagement pictures. Of course, Luke made them have Mr. and Mrs. above the image as well.

“How?” You breathed as Luke gently removed your heels to replace them with a thin pair of no-show socks. Over the socks went the white vans that gave your feet a break from the four-inch heels.

“We’re supposed to party now.” Luke beamed squeezing your hands in his only bending to kiss the back of each. His hazel eyes had shifted to a rich green as he stared up at yours with such a tender look, you could feel the heat building in your cheeks.

As your wedding party took their seats, Luke had already changed his shoes and pushed the box back under the table. His left hand refused to leave your right one as you both took in the magical room that had once only been a concept on paper.

“This is amazing.” You breathed leaning into Luke’s arm, sending a smile to the table near the front with both your parents, “Also thank you for the shoe surprise.”

 “I am so happy they got done on time.” Luke sighed slouching in his seat, waving at the photographer you had hired.

If you can recall correctly, Luke had met him at a band photoshoot, and he was the assistant to the head photographer. You believe his name was Ray and incredibly talented and under-appreciated by his former boss.

“Did you let the photographer know we have an open bar?” You leaned over to your new husband with a flutter in your belly at his new title. The question turned the corners of Luke’s mouth for the first time that day.

“I find it unfair that we have an open bar and we can’t drink anything.” Luke snorted nudging Reggie in his side.

“Oh, I think we both know you’ll sneak some for the guys and you.” You chuckled leaning back in the chair. One hand resting on your stomach to caress the material with your thumb, unaware, “I’ll stick to the sparkling juice.”

Luke’s one eyebrow raised at the sudden change in your drink choice as in the past you wouldn’t turn down your favourite. His eyes shifted down to your hand with raised eyebrows.

“Wait…are you…?” Luke drawled out slowly in your ear taken aback when your head in a surreptitious manner. His jaw unhinged mind opened as he took in the tiny bump; in the years together, he was very acquainted with your body.

“We are. How cliché are we?” You laughed as Luke lunged to press a kiss to the supple skin lightly painted with foundation.

Your makeup was natural and straightforward to last longer for photos and make it through the dances for later. It was also Luke’s favourite look.

Dinner, the dances and speeches had sped by ending with both the bouquet toss and the garter toss. The guests mingled with the newlyweds as some danced, Emily had managed to drag Luke back on the floor.

“I’m proud of you, Luke.” Emily smiled up at her son, “And you said those dance lessons were a waste of time.”

A light pink flush took over the nineteen-year old’s full cheeks reminiscing the lessons he had taken with his mother. He had been eleven or twelve at the time when his father pulled a muscle at the worst time. The coupons nearly expiration Emily took Luke to the lessons that initially had been for date night.

“I think it helped with singing-“Luke instinctively cut himself off as he had done years before when music was a no go subject, “Sorry you don-“

“Luke, I can never explain how sorry I am about what happened. I was wrong to push you into a box you didn’t fit. Music is a part of you, and I understand now.” Emily squeezed the bicep of the guitarist, “Besides you’ll understand where we were coming from in a couple months.”

Luke’s jaw dropped at her announcement, “What.”

“Luke, I am a mother. I know the signs such as your wife turning down the wine.” Emily admitted stepping back from the boy that had so suddenly become a man before her very eyes.

No longer was he the chubby-cheeked boy running naked from his bath after splattering spaghetti sauce on himself. He had outgrown his interest in soccer and baseball with his little friends. He had matured into a man that lived up to Emily’s teachings. Luke, in her eyes, was now a man of honour, integrity, kindness and stood up for himself.

Emily and Mitch Patterson had done a fantastic job raising their son, but now they could step back. They would get to watch Luke find his way as a husband and a father.

“Hey, man,” Reggie spoke as Luke walked off the dance floor finding you among family congratulating the couple.

“Hey, Reg.” Luke beamed tugging the bassist into his arms for a tight hug. As the two boys leaned back, they looked over at their friend.

Alex discarded the pink suit jacket at the table in favour of leaning against the wall talking with the bartender. A smile blossomed on the two men’s faces as they took in that Alex was utterly relaxed in the conversation.

“They were hardcore flirting.” Reggie piped up, referencing the male bartender, “His name is Billy, I think.”

The bartender had shoulder-length dark hair pulled back in a bun with glittering brown eyes drowning in the shy blonde. He wore a dark shirt opened a few buttons with white detailing on it. A white necklace as well, but it was the lovesick smile Luke loved; Alex deserved happiness the most in Sunset Curve.

“He’s totally a skater.” Reggie spoke, “It’s a love story. He’s a skater boy, and he’d like to do ballet.”

“That would be a sick song. He was a punk, she did ballet.” Luke hummed to a melody created on the spot, “Not really our sound.”

“Someone will figure out a way to use it.” Reggie waved off, and he was right. A singer would use the exact lyric in her song ‘Sk8er Boi’ in 2002 when Sunset Curve would bump into her.

Slowly the boys of Sunset Curve found their way to the stage to perform a few songs directed towards you. At your urging, you had demanded they give a live performance of Unsaid Emily for your now mother-in-law. As they sang, you wrapped an arm, Emily, as she cried.

“This is his best work.” You mumbled to the older woman cupping her wet cheek leaning into the touch of her husband’s touch.

As soon as the song was over, Emily yanked her son into her arms both parties of the hug emotionally moved. It seemed the performance had shifted something in their relationship for the better. Luke didn’t need to explain as he pulled you into his side once more.

 “Alex isn’t the only one that found someone.” You whispered, finding Alex and the bartender on break dancing on the edge of the dance floor. At your husband’s puzzlement, your finger pointed in the direction of the stage.

In a conversation photographer, Ray captivated the lead singer of the band you had hired when Sunset Curve didn’t play. Even Reggie seemed to have the attention of your twin showgirl cousins from Las Vegas.

“Love attracts love.” Luke simply spoke, wrapping his built arms around his wife, thinking back on the changes that had happened.

Luke hitting Reggie’s leg with the car at thirteen, finding each other at the concert a few years later, the accident that threatened the relationship. Proposing twice and finally marrying over a year later on the same day you confessed the pregnancy. So much had happened in such a fraction of time.

“I love you.” Luke murmured at the shell of your ear watching his friends have the time of their lives on a beautiful day in the summer of 1998.

Above are the example of the shoes that Luke got.

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