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illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

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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.

#my writing #my fics #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy smut #its currenty 1am #i have to be up for work in about 5 hours #this took longer to edit than i thought it would #(probably because its 22 effing words long lmao)#but here you go!#its done!#i think some of my formatting went a little janky when i was copying it into this post #but whateveri think its just added extra line breaks between paragraphs #so it should still be readable #anyway #im gonna pass out now #i'll see you tomorrow when i come to complain about work

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foxehrobot · 3 years ago

Text

The Bread Aisle

People say all the freaks and weirdos are out at two AM in Wal-Mart, but in Doc’s estimation, it wasn’t much better at HEB, either. Usually it was working stiffs, nurses or food service guys, other people who had unkind hours. But there were always the crazy ones.

And something about seeing a necromancer and a revenant minding their own damn business in the bread aisle drove them absolutely bonkers.

Usually they only wanted to talk about Johann. They wanted to know if they could touch him, speak to him, if he was “real.” She’d fended off an uncomfortable number of propositions and offers to buy him off her. He found the former terrifying and the latter insulting. But it never seemed to get bad enough that he stayed in the van.

She knew this guy was gonna be trouble for her, though. He had that look. The bottle in his hand (unopened, because it took a special kind of barbarian to start drinking in the HEB, although she’d been tempted a time or two), didn’t help his case.

“You’re a necromancer, right?” he said.

She gave him a long look, and tried not to roll her eyes or glance over at Johann. He wouldn’t have been doing anything interesting. They were coming off a hard and ugly night with a search party, and she’d found the missing man first. She was tired and mad, and Johann didn’t take to tourists. Seven hours without being able to make a single shitty or snarky remark, he was about five million kinds of strung out. It also meant his “I’m a dumb stupid zombie and have no brain” mask was implanted so far into his face it was probably melded with his skull.

“Look, mister,” she finally said. Pellar would crucify her if they could hear her call someone mister without knowing their damn pronouns, but they weren’t having to deal with this shit. “I just want some damn bread, so unless there’s an invisible vampire literally attached to your person I’m not interested.”

He dug around in his pocket, pulled out his wallet. God fucking dammit. She knew this routine. She lifted one hand and tapped her hip, looked over at Johann. One of the fingers on his left hand twitched. She was expecting that, it was only ever tourists who thought like this.

Necromancers knew better.

The photo was exactly what she was expecting to see. School photo, young boy, braces, smile, soccer ball. “My son--”

“Can’t help you.” She turned to go. Johann, one eye on the tourist, expression blank, turned with her. He’d be relieved to get home, and more relieved to get out of the humidity. Mummified corpses and humidity didn’t mix, and it’d been muggy enough out there she might have to salt him.

The tourist caught her by the arm and wrenched her away from her dream of a cold sandwich and a warm house.

“I have money,” he said.

Oh, ho ho. So the bastard thought he knew what he was asking. She sighed. “It ain’t about the money. And even if it weren’t about the fucking ethical considerations, or the fact that what you’re asking is a goddamn felony, I still wouldn’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not gonna get what you want.”

“Look, I know, I’ve done my research---”

“Not enough, apparently, if you’re accosting necros in a goddamn HEB.”

“I know, he’ll be, you know, like...” He waved a hand at Johann. “Him.”

Doc looked over at Johann. Johann didn’t blink. Comparing some dead junior high boy who played soccer and the clarinet or whatever it was braces-wearing kids with rich yuppie parents did for fun to Johann was the joke of the goddamn century, but the tourist wasn’t gonna get it. No one got the joke if you weren’t one of the small handful of unfortunate people Johann would talk in front of.

“You’re right,” she said instead. “And you look at Johann’s face and see exactly how many fucks he gives about your ass because that’s exactly how many your boy’s gonna give if you find someone stupid enough to raise him. Revs only care about one thing, and that’s their necro.” Not true. Right now, Johann was probably caring very much about getting the hell out of the HEB and into a salt bath. He also enjoyed opera, bitching about the unification of Italy, and Soul Train.

“I’m a necromancer,” the tourist said. “I’ve been tested. I don’t have the paper on me, but I’m a necromancer.”

“Not enough of one. Enough to get turned by a vampire, maybe.”

“You don’t know that.”

She jerked her head toward Johann. “He does. If he says you ain’t enough of a necro, you ain’t enough of a necro. If he doesn’t care about you, your baby boy won’t, either.” God, she was tired.

The tourist walked straight up to Johann and said “You don’t think I’m a necromancer?”

Johann didn’t blink and didn’t budge.

The tourist didn’t move. “I know you can talk. You’re a revenant, not a ghoul. You talk, you think, you feel, you understand.”

“You don’t,” Doc said.

“Don’t what?” the tourist said.

“Understand. He’s telling you very clearly that you’re not a necromancer.” For a guy who was trying to flaunt his “knowledge” of revenants, he sure didn’t understand Etiquette. A real necro would’ve gotten a reaction. A real necro also would’ve gotten decked for getting that close to someone else’s rev.

“I want to hear him say it.”

“Then make him, necromancer.” Which was not a thing you said to another necro. Taking command of someone else’s rev was a criminal breach of Etiquette. Not that the cops ever actually arrested anyone for it. Like tax evasion, it was the thing you got nailed for because the cops couldn’t nail you for the thing they wanted you for.

He stepped away from Johann. “I don’t know how.”

“Cool, well, have a nice day.” She shifted the damned, cursed, stupid goddamn loaf of fucking bread to her other hand so she could take Johann by the arm. He didn’t resist (not that he could have, he had all the physical strength of a large box of spaghetti), and she marched them both nearly out the door.

“Bread,” Johann said, into her ear, voice pitched low.

“Oh, shit,” she said, spinning around and making for the self-checkout lane. Way to end the goddamn night, Doc, she thought. Get arrested for shoplifting the fucking bread.

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kaylaxwrites · 4 years ago

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Resurrection

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader Words: 2200 Summary: Matt is dead. Until he isn’t. Request: “Do you think you can do a Matthew Murdock x Reader where they were in like a pre-exisiting relationship, but then Defenders happen and it is like set in Season 3 time and she is finding out that Matt is back from Karen and Foggy instead of Matt himself.” (anon) A/N: Maybe this isn’t exactly how you wanted it to go, anon, but I hope you like it nevertheless! There’s a little less fluff at the end than what you probably wanted, but I liked those lines as the last ones and I wasn’t exactly sure how to go past them. But enjoy!

You curled up with Matt on the couch as gentle music floated through your speakers. The attack on Midland Circle was going to happen any day now and you were spending as much time as you could with your boyfriend, unsure of what might happen in the coming days. If there would be time together after. It wasn’t something either of you were willing to voice, but the thought rested heavy on both your shoulders.

Matt played with your hands. “I was thinking about the future…” he tried to bring up casually.

You cut him off. “I thought we agreed to not think about what might or might not happen,” you said, sitting up to better face him.

“I—we did. But this is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time and I want to ask before…” Before I die. Even without saying them, the words hung heavy in the air. Matt fished into his pocket and pulled something out. He kept his fist tight around it so you couldn’t tell what it was. “I’d have a lot of regrets if I didn’t ask, so…” He slid off of the couch and knelt in front of you. He unfurled his hand to reveal a beautiful ring. You gasped. “Will you marry me?”

The memory played in your head as you sat with Karen and Foggy in the middle of the precinct breakroom, waiting for the return of your heroes. You stared at the ring Matt had pushed on your finger that night, watching as it caught the light. He used it as a promise. When he made it back to you, you would get married. It wasn’t going to be a matter of if, but when.

Karen sat next to you as she clutched your hand tightly. It almost hurt, but you were squeezing back just as hard. This wait was killing you as each moment past without you knowing whether or not your boyfriend—your fiancé—was alive.

You quickly stood when someone entered the room. They were back! Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for Matt to arrive. Jessica entered the room first, looking exhausted as she searched the room for her sister. Luke and Claire stepped through the door soon after, holding each other’s hand tightly. Danny and Colleen followed soon after. Colleen’s white jacket was covered in blood. Your heart constricted in your chest.

Now it was Matt’s turn.

You stared at the door, waiting.

And waiting.

A n d w a i t i n g.

Your world crumbled with each second until the floor fell from under you. Your knees buckled and you clutched the table for strength. But your legs couldn’t hold you up for very much longer. A warm hand under your elbow kept you from falling.

Luke.

You turned to him, a question on your lips. Where was Matt? Maybe he got held up outside? He had to change out of that ridiculous costume before walking in, right? Right? The words died before you could speak them, but Luke answered them anyway.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said and the phrase pierced your heart like a white-hot knife.

You shook your head, unwilling to believe it. Unwilling to let your tears fall. You turned to Foggy and Karen for confirmation. Luke had to be wrong. But Karen was crying into Foggy’s shoulder. The look on his face was heartbroken. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the door. Still waiting.

You dimly noticed Claire stepping by your side. You tried to make out the words she was saying, but you couldn’t focus. Matt is dead. You were pushed into a seat. Matt is dead. She knelt in front of you. Her lips were still moving. Matt is dead.

Matt is dead.

Your pain, your anger, your agony pooled in your stomach until it tore through your chest in a heart-wrenching scream. You collapsed in on yourself, sobbing, until there was nothing left in you.

That was months ago.

Matt’s body was never recovered.

Without a body, you couldn’t bury him and you were left without closure.

You avoided the apartment as much as you could—leaving first thing in the morning and staying out well past dark. The grief was too much for you to be there any longer, surrounded by him, his things, his clothes. Karen helped when she could. She would drop off food for you and allowed you to sleep on the couch in her office more times than you could count. Foggy would check in occasionally, but he could rarely bring himself to step foot inside Matt’s apartment.

More often than not, you found yourself visiting the church where Matt grew up. Catholicism wasn’t really your thing, but, oddly enough, you felt closer to Matt when you were here. The pain in your heart lessened and you finally felt like you were able to breathe. It also helped that Father Lantom wouldn’t constantly question you about your well-being, like everyone else you knew. Occasionally, he’d even bring you coffee and donut holes from the fellowship hall. And other times, he’d join you there in the very last pew, offering you silent companionship as you mourned.

You weren’t entirely sure why you found comfort in the church. The crucified Jesus statue at the front of the hall intimidated you and you were never entirely sure what was being depicted in the stained-glass windows. But you could feel Matt here at Clinton Church. You even thought you could sometimes catch glimpses of him out of the corner of your eye, but you knew the thought was ridiculous. Whenever you turned, there was only shadow and you knew your mind was playing tricks on you.

It didn’t help when Karen swore up and down that some masked vigilante she saw had to be Matt. An argument had nearly exploded when she first brought the topic up and you hadn’t talked much with her since. You didn’t want your hopes to brought up, only for your heart to be shattered all over again whenever they found Matt’s body at the bottom of Midland Circle. You didn’t know if you could handle that kind of pain again, so you refused to believe it.

You didn’t want to believe even when Foggy told you himself.

You were surprised when Foggy knocked on your door early one morning. You were just about to have a quick breakfast and leave for the day when he arrived. “Foggy, what are you doing here?” you asked as you opened the door. He was dressed in a suit and tie and held his briefcase in his hand. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Good morning to you, too,” he tried to joke. He ran a hand over his hair. His eyes were red and tired. When he sat on your couch, his leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. He was upset. “You should sit down. We need to talk.”

Panic filtered through your chest. Your heart pounded. You quickly hurried to the chair opposite Foggy, stumbling in your haste. “What? Why?” You gasped. “Did—did they find him?” Your words were barely audible.

Foggy shook his head. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You weren’t sure how to feel—were you relieved? Should you be upset? Were you angry?

“No, it’s, uh… It’s…” Foggy stumbled to find the correct words. “Matt’s alive?” he said at last, but it sounded more like a question.

You quickly stood, turning to face away from him. You scrubbed your hands over your face before crossing your arms protectively over your chest. “Get out.”

“No, Y/N, wait—” He placed a hand on your shoulder and you angrily spun to face him.

“No, Foggy!” you exclaimed, tears welling in your eyes. “We’ve been through this! Matt is gone, okay? I don’t want it to be true as much as you do, but at some point—” Your voice cracked. “At some point we have to face the facts. At some point, we have to—we have to realize that…that an entire building fell on him.” You throat grew tighter with each word and it was getting difficult to speak. “H-How could one man survive that? And if he did, why wouldn’t he…why wouldn’t he—” Your voice finally gave out, the pressure in your throat so tight you could hardly breathe. You pressed a hand against your mouth, trying to will the tears away.

Foggy finished for you. “Why wouldn’t he call us? Why wouldn’t he come see us? Why wouldn’t he give us a sign?” You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded. “I asked myself the same things. I honestly thought Karen might’ve been going crazy when she suggested that maybe he was out there. But she’s right.” Your eyes flew open. “Matt, he…he found me last night and—”

“He found you? And you saw him? In the flesh?” You needed the clarification. Maybe Foggy just saw someone who looked like him or was imagining things.

“I saw him, clear as day. I hugged him, I felt him, he was real. He was alive.”

You took a stumbling step back, trying to process what you had just been told. Foggy kept talking, saying something about Fisk, but you weren’t paying attention. Your energy was spent trying to wrap your head around the fact that Matt was alive.

You knew you should have been relieved, happy even, but you were angry. Angry he didn’t come to find you to serve as messenger he was alive. Angry he didn’t come to find you at all. Angry that he had been hiding this whole time. Whenever you had entertained the idea that Matt was alive, you always imagined that maybe he was in a coma or had amnesia and that was why he never called, never came home. Where had he even been staying this whole time? You knew for a fact he wasn’t coming to the apartment…

And then it hit you.

The church. He had been staying at the church.

You raced to find some shoes and threw a jacket over your shoulders. “Where are you going?” Foggy demanded.

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” you answered, lacing up your sneakers.

“To who? Matt? I don’t even know where he is!”

“I do,” you threw over your shoulder as you made your way out of the apartment. You slammed the door behind you.

You didn’t hear Foggy muttering as you left, “Sure, Y/N, that’s fine. Leave me in the dark. I’ll lock up your apartment. No worries.” On his way out, he stole the pieces of toast you had abandoned on the kitchen counter.

You stormed into the church, stomping your way up to Father Lantom’s office. He had barely said “come in” before you were throwing open the door and striding to his desk. “Where is he?” you demanded before the Father could get a word out of his mouth.

“Where’s who?”

You anger and desperation nearly washed out of you then and doubt crept in. Maybe you were wrong and Matt hadn’t been here. Maybe Foggy was wrong and he wasn’t even alive. “Please don’t play dumb with me,” you begged. “I need to see him. I need to see Matt.”

He opened his mouth to speak—maybe to question how you knew, maybe to question your sanity—but then he shut it again. Sighing, he stood and closed the book on his desk. “Come with me,” he said and he led you out of the room.

He led you to the church’s basement, which you had never been to before. As you reached the last flight of stairs, you nearly (quite literally) ran into a nun. It was Sister Maggie, you realized. She had offered you condolences on one of your first visits here. She glanced you over before raising an eyebrow at Father Lantom. “It’s time,” he offered. But time for what, you weren’t very sure. Sister Maggie sighed and continued her way up the stairs. Father Lantom ushered you forward, but didn’t follow as you rounded the corner.

You gasped when you laid eyes on Matt for the first time in months. He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes and he was a little paler than usual. You took a small step forward and his head darted up as he noticed you for the first time—too busy in his thoughts, you assumed, to notice you earlier.

He seemed to panic for a moment, surprised at your unexpected visit. “What are you doing here?” he asked after a moment’s silence.

Agitation rolled through you, washing away your initial relief at seeing him in one piece. Those were the first words he was going to say to you? “‘What am I doing here?’” you repeated, your voice creeping up into shrill tones. “I could be asking you the same thing!” You crossed over to him in three strides and shoved his shoulder with all your might. “What the hell were you thinking? I’ve been distraught for months thinking you were dead.” You continued nearly screaming at him, unleashing months’ worth of pain and sorrow. Your anger channeled out through blows to his chest, which he made no motion to stop.

Then he put his arms around you and you nearly collapsed, sobbing into his chest. You held him tight with every ounce of your strength. “I hate you, Matt Murdock.” But there was no truth behind the words. You loved him with every fiber of your being.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock/reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil imagine #mcu imagine #also how do i tag so people see this lol

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impala-dreamer · 5 years ago

Text

There’s Something About Mr. Ackles

~ An interview on set leads to some extra special behind the scenes activities.~

Jensen x Reader

1,767 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Oral all around.

A/N: This was a request from @thoughtslikeaminefield, a prize for winning GTGT!

My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ Find My Original Works on Amazon

“So, it must be hard to say goodbye after all these years.”

Y/N leaned in just a bit, just enough to give him a peek at what was hiding beneath her blouse. She knew it was wrong, but she also knew he’d been turning up the charm for the last fifteen minutes for no reason. He wanted a peek.

Jensen licked his lips slowly as his green eyes passed over the ample view she had offered. Clearing his throat, he answered honestly. “It is. Hard to say goodbye to the crew, they’re like family, really. We’ve been through weddings, births, funerals. It’s like leaving home for the first time.”

Y/N pouted, listening sympathetically even as she stared at his plump lips. She’d always fancied him, but up close and personal… it was a whole new level of beautiful. He was drop-dead gorgeous and Y/N was about to drop.

“And Dean?” she asked, checking her notes even though she didn’t need them. “What will it be like to put aside the flannel for the last time?”

He smiled sadly and dropped his chin, considering. He had all the answers, she knew. This wasn’t his first interview of the day even, but he was playing it up nicely for the camera that filmed him over her left shoulder.

“I’m never gonna leave Dean. He’s a part of me. I may back away from the flannels for a while, but they’ll always hold a special place in my heart.”

He laughed and Y/N tried not to visibly shiver. She’d been around just about every celebrity there was over the last five years, but there was just something about Mr. Ackles.

“Oh no,” she joked, “don’t give up the flannel! You look amazing in plaid.” She winked, confident that the camera couldn’t see it, and she could have sworn Jensen blushed.

“Thank you.” The apples of his cheeks were bright pink and he covered his smile shyly with his hand, curling his middle finger towards his lips. “It’ll be an adjustment, but I’m looking forward to new adventures.”

“Speaking of…” She shifted in her chair and crossed her legs, purposely forgetting to adjust the hem of her pencil skirt as it rose up her thighs. “Any new projects lined up?”

Jensen’s gaze fell to the black lace line that rounded her thick thighs, cheeks paling as the blood flowed downward. “Well, I’m working on another record…”

Y/N smiled and sat back, the edge of her skirt hiking up a bit higher. “Ah! Yes, Radio Company! Loved the first album, really great.”

“Thanks, I’m very proud of it.” The tip of his tongue snagged between his front teeth and his hands fell to his thighs, rubbing absently.

“You act, you sing, you direct, write songs- and, as we saw in a recent episode, you dance.” She paused and stared until he met her eyes. “Is there anything the great Jensen Ackles can’t do?”

He laughed; head tipping back as his entire body shook with the action. “Oh, I don’t know about that. There are many things I can’t do.” His smile fell as he zoned in on her legs, opening slowly as Y/N leaned in.

“I’m sure that’s not true…”

The sets were dark and empty as he led her through, stopping in a room where they kept the extra’s props. There were shelves lined with random trinkets and furniture pieces; objects Y/N barely had time to name.

As soon as the door shut, Jensen grabbed her, spinning Y/N in his arms and pressing her back against one of the metal shelves.

“You’re the naughtiest interview I’ve ever had,” he growled, thrusting a knee between her thighs.

She gasped and clawed at the back of his neck, pulling his face down to hers. “You haven’t had me yet.”

His kiss was full and deep; lips crushing hers with a passion that left her breathless. He distracted her with his tongue as his right hand slipped up to cup her breast, kneading and pinching at the mountain of flesh beneath her silky blouse.

Y/N spread her legs around his and pressed down, humping his thick thigh while he toyed with the buttons on her shirt.

“You better not pop those,” she teased, knocking his hand away to help him.

He grinned as she opened her shit and was quick to drag the cups of her black lace bra down beneath her tits. Her nipples popped in the cool air, ruddy and hard. “Delicious.”

“You should have a taste.”

Jensen dipped down to do just that, lapping at each nipple in turn before setting his mouth around the right side, sucking hard enough to make her squeal.

“Fuck!”

“Keep it down,” he warned, breath hot as is passed across her chest to the opposite side. He bit down on the left nipple and she held her breath, biting her lip hard to stay quiet.

Y/N raked her hands through his perfectly styled hair. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you.”

He released her tit with a pop and met her eyes with a grin. “You have no idea.”

She blushed. “Why don’t you show me, then?”

His eyes glowed with something mischievous as he slid down her body, stopping to nibble on her throat and flick his tongue against her nipple as he sank to his knees. Hot fingers pushed her skirt upwards, and Y/N wiggled against the shelves as he kissed the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

“Oh my…”

Jensen ran a single finger across her pussy, pressing the matching black lace up into her folds.

“Fuck, lemme just…” She hooked her thumbs around the thin elastic hem of her panties, but Jensen grabbed her wrists and shoved her fingers away.

“Leave ‘em on.”

She had no breath to reply as his tongue replaced his finger, pushing burning, wet heat up into her cunt. He lapped at the lace, sucked it between his lips, bumped her covered clit with his nose.

Y/N held on to the metal, arms stretched, crucifying herself as he gently pushed the lace aside finally. She sucked in her stomach as he kissed her clit again and again, pulling and releasing the sensitive bud until it was throbbing almost painfully. Her cunt leaked onto his fingers and Jensen pushed them inside, fucking her slow and deep on his big hand.

When his middle finger swept over her g-spot, Y/N moaned loudly and slapped a hand down onto the top of his head, grabbing the short locks between her fingers.

“Jesus Christ!”

Jensen hummed into her pussy and picked up his pace; talented mouth and fingers working together to bring her right to the edge of ecstasy before pulling away.

Y/N nearly fell, panting and clinging to the shelf as he stood and licked her slick from his lips.

“Eh?” he teased, one cocky eyebrow raised.

Her eyes rolled for a split second before she attacked, pushing herself off of the shelves and wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. She tugged until he bent down, and she tasted herself on his tongue, sweet and familiar. She let him go but kept his lips busy as she tugged at his belt, hands tripping over the big silver buckle.

“Allow me,” he smirked, taking a step back to open his jeans. Leather and denim fell to his bowed knees, and Y/N cocked her head as she stared at the digitally printed boxer briefs, tented by his stiff cock.

“Is that a lion?” she asked, grinning at the golden animal covering his crotch.

Jensen laughed and spread his arms in a smug shrug. “King of the Jungle, baby.”

“I can see that.” She fell down just as he had, knees meeting the hard floor in an instant. She ran her hands up his strong thighs, digging her nails into the tanned flesh before finding his hips and peeling his boxers down. The size of him stopped her breath and Y/N stared at the giant cock lying hard against his left thigh. “You really are the King.”

Jensen pet her head, running his hand over the top and back, urging her forward towards his cock as he roared like a lion.

Her laugh was muffled as he bucked his hips, forcing his cock to slide against her mouth. She parted her lips and took him in, humming happily as his salty taste hit the sides of her tongue.

Jensen pushed his hips forward and lay his head back, resting against the only patch of empty wall in the place. He groaned rhythmically as she swallowed around him, deeper and deeper until she gagged loudly and pulled away. A thick line of saliva connected them and she scooped it up in her fist. She wrapped her wet fingers around the base of his cock, jerking slowly while she bobbed her mouth on the tip.

“That’s… fuck. Yes.”

He let her work, keeping his body as still as possible until the last second. When he could take it no longer, Jensen cupped the sides of her face in his big hands and held her there, fucking quickly into her tight mouth and spilling down her throat.

Y/N swallowed again and again until he softened on her tongue. She licked her lips and wiped at her chin when he pulled out, sighing with pleasure as he slumped on the wall.

“Goddamn.”

“You ain’t kidding.”

They redressed in silence, now and then casting a side-eye at the other.

When they were together, Jensen smiled kindly and opened the door, stepping aside to let her through.

“Such a gentleman,” she laughed.

Jensen clicked his tongue. “Not so much.”

“Apparently.”

The lights seemed extra bright and conversation was awkward. They tried not to meet each other’s gaze, but it was hard not to. Thankfully, anything and everything could be edited and left on the cutting room floor.

“Final question, Jensen,” Y/N announced; a smile in her perky voice.

Jensen folded his hands in his lap and smiled. “Shoot.”

“Anything you’d like to say to your biggest fans out there? You are the King after all.”

The laugh caught him by surprise, nearly choking him. “Well…”

He blushed again when their eyes met, but Jensen was nothing if not a professional. He cleared his throat and licked his lips, staring deep into the camera. No matter what he was about to say, it would go over big-time. That was the thing about Jensen, you couldn’t help but love him...

2020 Forever Tags:

@67-chevy-baby @akshi8278 @akhuna01 @amanda-teaches @because-imma-lady-assface @blondemarvelchick @blushingjared @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @classic-rock-angel @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansgirl215 @deans-baby-momma @deangirl7695 @deanwanddamons @deanwinchesterswitch @defenderrosetyler @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @edge-oftonight @emoryhemsworth @fandom-princess-forevermore @feelmyroarrrr @flamencodiva @focusonspn @herbologystudent252 @heycasbutt @hornyandsmol @ilovefanfic86 @i-love-superhero @ilsawasanacrobat @imjustadrummer @impala-1979 @joseyrw @justagirlinafandomworld @justcallmeasmodeus @katymacsupernatural @laxe-from-outer-space @leatherandfrackles @lessons-of-red @letsby @letsdisneythings @lonewolf471 @maddiepants @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @missjenniferb @mrswhozeewhatsis @mummybear @onethirstyunicorn @our-jensen-ackles-love @screechingartisancashbailiff @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @starboycas @stephaniecanfield96us @stoneyggirl @squirrelnotsam @thebookisbtr @thehardcoveraddict @thevelvetseries @veevm @winchestersister55 @wendibird @winecatsandpizza @winterpoohbear

#spn fanfic #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x reader #one shot

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guccybangtan · 4 years ago

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Pull Me In - Jung Hoseok

pairing; hoseok x reader

word count; 3,058 ( a lil baby compared to some of these other fics 🥵)

genre; fluff, smut, non idol! au

warnings; semi public sex, spanking (like once maybe), blow job, daddy kink, unprotected sex, shower sex, impreg kink/breeding kink; let me know if anything needs to be added

a/n; I know I haven't posted since blue side chapter 10 (which was like three months ago??? I'm so sorry???)

but!! im back with this small fic for ‘The Summer Bucket List Collab’ hosted by @jamaisjoons

now, usually my fics are longer and better but on top of my issues with my college(long story) my dad is also in the hospital with some serious health issues so its been a whirlwind of the last few months

I hate making excuses but I wanted you all to know what’s been up but im hoping to get some more of my wips done now that I have classes again :)

regardless pls enjoy this fic I enjoyed writing it even though its not the best

(also I still haven't written that much smut so pls don't crucify me)

shout out to Maggie - @kimtaehyunq for helping me with the wonderful banner for this! pls support them in their works

enough blabbering, here we go :)

In the heat of the summer, there's nothing more relaxing than relaxing than a nice trip to the water. Since your little brother's birthday fell right at the height of summer, your family frequented the local water park to celebrate, effectively hitting two birds with one stone. Everyone got to cool off and your brother got to have an amazing party.

This year Y/B/N was turning ten and he took special care in selecting which of his friends he wants to attend. Your mother permitted him to bring along five friends, not counting you and the family.

Much to everyone's surprise, the first person he asked for was Hoseok.

Hoseok was your boyfriend of three years, and he and Y/B/N hadn't always gotten along. You and your little brother were very close, and when Hoseok first started coming around Y/B/N felt like he was taking you away from him.

Even though things eventually lightened up and Y/B/N became like a second shadow to him, Hoseok still worried that Y/B/N harbored hatred for him in secret.

"He really wants me there?" Hoseok asked you, fingers halting their ministrations.

The two of you had been settled on the couch nestled among the pillows even though it was sweltering, and Hoseok had been gently massaging you as you laid on top of him.

"You were the first person he asked for. Must be all that energy you have.'' You poked, causing your boyfriend to begin shaking with laughter.

Silence ensued once more and as Hoseok continued to run his fingers across your skin, you found yourself drifting closer and closer to sleep.

Just as you were about to fall over the edge, the rumble of Hoseok's voice in his chest woke you.

"What should I get him?" He voiced his out of the blue question.

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"He'll love whatever you decide on regardless.''

"Well what about..'' As Hoseok prattled on, you let sleep come again.

Before you knew it, it was the day of your brothers party and you were trying to decide which bathing suit you wanted to wear.

"Should I wear this one?" You asked your friend, light blue bikini in your grasp.

"Didn't you say Hoseok liked red, though?" She began digging through the pile on your bed, "wear this.''

From the bottom of the pile she produced a bright red bikini, complete with lace details around the straps and waistband. It wasn't too sultry, but for a birthday party, it seemed to be a bit much.

"It's a ten-year-old's party, Y/F/N! Not a strip club,'' You snatched it from her hands, tossing it to the side, " not to mention my little brother's party.''

"You wore that exact bikini at Namjoon's the other day?"

"That was different...'' You countered, cheeks now as red as the bikini.

"Sure it was, because you knew you were getting laid.'' Y/F/N rolled her eyes, kicking her feet up on top of the pile of discarded suits.

"I don't know what else to tell you then,'' She shrugged,'' you said no to all of these.''

"I'll figure something out.''

Sighing, you began to dig through the pile again. Hoseok was going to be at your place in 10 minutes, and then the two of you were going to be meeting the rest of the group at the waterpark.

You needed to think fast.

Just as you finished adjusting the straps of your top, knocking could be heard on the door of your apartment.

"Would you mind getting that?" You asked Y/F/N, packing the last few things you needed into a bag,"it's probably Hobi.''

"I would but...'' She trailed off, motioning to the chips that were on her lap.

"You're a piece of work,'' You rolled your eyes, dropping the bag on the floor and heading toward the front door, "I don't know what Joon sees in you.''

"My big brain and beautiful face.'' She called after you.

Sighing, you flicked the lock on the door and pulled it open revealing Hoseok.

"Well hello there.'' He spoke, eyeing you up in down as he pulled you toward him.

"Nice to see you too, lover boy.'' Giggling, you fell into his embrace.

"You know I love this bikini on you,'' Hoseok whispered into your ear as he toyed with the spandex material, pressing a kiss against the side of your head," red suits you.''

Before you could respond Y/F/N's voice rang through the air.

"Okay kids, have fun, time to go!'' Y/F/N came around the corner with your bag in hand and began ushering the two of you out the door.

"You don't want to be late! Tell Y/B/N I said happy birthday! Be sure to use protection!'' She continued shouting as the two of you approached the car.

"Use pro- What is she talking about?" Hoseok furrowed his brows as he settled in the drivers seat.

"Haha, she's just joking.'' You blurted out nervously, flicking Y/F/N the finger as Hoseok reversed out of your driveway.

All you got in return was her cheeky smile as she retreated back into your apartment.

The waterpark was near the edge of town. Considering how much space it took up, it was a miracle the city hadn't decided to demolish it yet to build another shopping mall.

The drive to the waterpark wasn't long, but with the windows down and the music blaring as the two of you drove down the open road, you couldn't help but feel relaxed.

Summer wasn't your favorite season, but you didn't care what you were doing as long as you had Hoseok by your side. The two of you did most things together but you never got tired of him, and he never got tired of you.

You were like peas in a pod and you wouldn't change that.

"Here we are!" Hoseok sang with a smile on his face as he pulled into the nearest parking spot.

You could see your family and Y/B/N's friends waiting near the entrance of the park.

After greeting everyone, the group made their way inside of the park and looked for an empty table everyone could place their things at.

Y/B/N and his friends immediately ran to the tide pool and rushed into the water, splashing around and trying to dunk each other.

You laughed at their antics as you sat at the table under the umbrella, reaching into your bag for the sunscreen.

"Can you spray me?" Hoseok asked, pulling his shirt off and setting it next to your bag.

"Yeah, uh, yes. Turn around,'' you nodded, gulping as you uncapped the bottle.

Hoseok was definitely fitter than the average man, and seeing him bathed in the golden sunlight was enough to have your mouth run dry.

"Are you coming or not Hoseok?" Your brother shouted.

"You're keeping the little man waiting, baby. Help me out here.''

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the stupor, you mumbled an apology and quickly applied the sunscreen, making sure he had a nice even coat to protect his skin.

"Keep your mind out of the gutter,'' Hoseok smirked at you as he made his way toward your little brother. "You ready to get dunked?"

For most of the afternoon you sat with your mother and talked while tanning and watching the boys roughhouse. Eventually Y/B/N decided it was time to move to the area that has the big wave come crashing down over everyone and he was adamant that you were coming too.

"Who's gonna stay with mom if I come?" You tried reasoning.

"I'll be fine, go have fun,'' She waved you off, reaching into her bag and pulling out a book," I always come prepared.''

You groaned internally, but didn't fight when Hoseok pulled you out of your chair and began to drag you along behind him.

"Y/B/N and his friends seem to be getting tired," Hoseok whispered to you as the two of you trailed behind the pack of ten-year-olds," we'll probably end up leaving sometime after this for the pizza place.''

"Good, I'm starving.''

Generally, you were a good big sister. Being older you often had to watch out for Y/B/N and make sure that he never got into too much trouble. Since the age gap between the two of you was also so large, you were also often bending to every whim of the little boy.

Waterparks were fun, and you enjoyed spending the time with your little brother, but if there was one thing you hated it was the big wave.

For some unknown reason (definitely not your lack of balance) you always managed to get knocked down and swept under the water when the recurring waves came crashing over everyone.

“I’ll be right here,’’ Hoseok spoke,” you’ll be fine.’’

Sure enough, for the first few waves you were okay. With Hoseok standing behind you, you managed to stay on your feet. But with each oncoming wave, you felt him becoming more restless as he stood behind you.

“Are you alright?” You turned around to ask him as the water calmed.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well you just seem to be wiggling a lot.’’

‘Oh, yeah…’’ he trailed off, “ about that.’’

You followed his gaze as he glanced down and noticed the bulge forming in the front of his shorts.

“Really? Now?” You asked incredulously.

“You’ve been rubbing up against me for the last ten minutes. What did you expect to happen?”

Oh. The waves had been pushing you back into him, but you hadn’t thought anything of it.

“Shouldn’t you go take care of that?”

“Me?! You started it!’’

Looking back over to where your brother and his friends were, you saw that they were still enamored with trying to dunk each other.

‘Perfect time to make a getaway,’ you thought.

“After the next wave you need to head back to mom to get ready to leave,’’ you called out to your brother, “Hoseok and I are gonna go get rinsed off and change.’’

A chorus of ‘okay’s came from the group of boys.

Grabbing Hoseok’s hand, you told him to just follow you.

The good thing about this place was that there was an abundance of showers and they were fairly large, so fixing Hoseok’s- issue- wouldn’t be a problem.

As soon as you were safely in the shower, you threaded your fingers through the hair on the nape of Hoseok’s neck, and you smashed your lips to his.

“We’ll have to be quick.’’

You nodded, groaning as he fondled your breasts through the swim top.

"Careful baby girl,'' Hoseok smirked as he tugged at the waistband of your bottoms,"don't want anyone to hear us now do we? That would ruin the fun.''

Reaching over, Hoseok turned the shower to full blast, the only sound that filled the small cubicle being the water beating against the tile.

"Maybe we shouldn’t.'' You shook your head, realizing how risky the situation actually was.

You couldn't deny that you wanted Hoseok to shove you up against the wall and fuck you like your life depended on it, but you couldn't help but be worried that someone would barge in on you.

The sheer embarrassment that you would have to deal with, especially if it was one of your parents that walked in, was enough to deter you from the railing that you so desperately wanted.

"C'mon, Y/N. We'll be okay as long as you keep quiet? Can you do that for daddy?" Hoseok hummed, hard cock rubbing against your back side.

“Yes,’’

“On your knees then.’’

Without a second thought, you dropped down, knees chilled by the tile floor; a stark contrast to the warmth of the water that was raining down on you.

Shimmying out of his shorts, Hoseok’s cock was red, precum smeared over the tip.

“Open.’’

You complied, the familiar salty taste spreading across your tongue as he slid his cock into your mouth.

“Now suck.’’

Wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, you mouthed at the tip, fisting the rest of his length in your hand.

Quiet pants fell from his lips, droplets of water racing down the front of his chest as he dipped his head.

“The things you do to me Y/N.’’ Hoseok growled, gently rocking his hips forward, pushing his cock further into your wet mouth.

Letting him take control, you felt the tip of his cock nudge the back of your throat.

“Relax for me,’’ he cooed, fingers brushing across your throat.

It didn’t take him much effort for him to force his cock past your tonsils, beginning to trust once more.

Reaching down, you slipped your hand into the waistband of your bikini bottoms and ghosted your fingers across your clit.

Sighing around Hoseok’s cock, you applied more pressure, making small circles over the bud to provide some relief.

Hoseok pulled out of your mouth muttering something about how he wasn’t gonna last as he helped you up from your position on the ground.

“These gotta go.’’ He pulled on your bottoms, sliding them down your legs.

Hands planted firmly on the wall, Hoseok tapped your hip signalling you to spread your legs.

“Ready for me, baby girl?”

“Yes daddy, please.’’ you mewled, wiggling your ass at him.

“Remember, you have to be quiet.’’

Lining his tip up with your entrance, Hoseok pushed into you in one swift motion, causing you to cry out.

Clamping a hand over your mouth, he pulled your head up so it was resting against his chest.

"Ah ah,'' He shook his head,"what happened to silence, baby? You know the rules, bad girls don't get to cum.''

"I'm sorry, daddy,'' you choked out,'' your cock just fills me up so good, I-''

“What? Can’t seem to follow instructions? If that’s the case you can just suck me off and we’ll go.’’

“No! No, please. I’ll be good.’’ You pleaded, already feeling the tightness winding up in your stomach.

Hoseok had that effect on you. Sex with him was the best you’d ever had. Somehow he just knew your body so well he could play you like a fiddle.

“Fine,’’ he tsked, pulling out to the tip and thrusting back in,’’ but next time I won’t be so kind as to give you a second chance.’’

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, moans intermingling with the sound of water continuing to hit the tile.

True to your word you managed to keep your moans in, tiny gasps being the only sound that escaped you as Hoseok continued to pound into you at a steady pace.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over how sweet your pussy is.’’ Hoseok growled, running his hands across your back and over the swell of your ass.

“Only for you.’’

“Damn straight,’’ He panted, words punctuated by a particularly hard thrust, "So good to me, baby.''

" 'M close.'' You whimpered, letting your head loll backwards against his shoulder.

Hoseok picked up the pace, fucking into you at a brutal rate. His deft fingers reached down to your clit and started rubbing circles over the bundle of nerves much like you had been minutes ago.

It was like you could feel his cock in your throat, he was so deep in you.

"Wanna put a baby in you.'' Hoseok growled, thrusting getting sloppier.

"Do it then. Cum inside of me. Want you to fill me up.’’

"God, Y/N, when you talk like that,’’ Landing a swift smack to your asscheek, he kneaded the supple flesh.

“Oh, fuck,” You bit down on your lip,” I’m gonna cum! Please, daddy.’’

“Let it go, baby.’’

Hoseok continued rubbing small circles on your clit, pushing you over the edge. Stars clouded your vision as your eyes clamped shut, walls clenching around Hoseok’s cock as he continued to pound into your cunt.

“I’m almost there.’’ He moaned, fucking into you with a newfound fervor.

After a few brutal thrusts, he was spilling his load into your cunt, gently rocking his hips to milk himself for everything he had.

“You better keep that in.’’ He panted, pulling his softening cock out.

“I’ll do my best.’’ You rolled your eyes, body feeling the affects of the day.

“I love you, you know that right?” Hoseok mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as he let his bodyweight rest against your own.

“I know, why do you think I let you fuck me in the shower of a waterpark?”

“Shits and giggles?” He shrugged.

“You’re an idiot.’’ You laughed, pushing his shoulder.

The two of you stood there for a moment, letting the warmth of the water run over you both.

As you stood there, you began running your hands over the expanse of Hoseok’s back, figuring it would be best to actually wash off the germs from the park water.

“I guess it’s smart to actually wash off.’’ Hoseok leaned up from your shoulder, leaning in for another kiss.

“It’s probably almost time to go eat anyway. I bet the others already left.’’

“Oh, crap!” You exclaimed, swifty pulling your bottoms back on and shutting off the water.

The two of you stumbled out of the shower to your bag.

After drying off and slipping on your actual clothes, you reached for your phone to check the notifications

“We’re gonna be late for dinner!” You cried, frantically shoving all of your stuff into the bag and rushing out the entrance of the waterpark.

Hoseok just moseyed along like there wasn’t a care in the world.

“Why are you being so slow today?”

“It’s funny to watch you get all worked up over pizza.’’ Hoseok said, signature grin plastered on his face.

“I’m hungry.’’ You pouted, reaching for his hand to pull him along.

“What, earlier wasn’t enough?”

“Shut up, you nasty!’’ Smacking his chest you dropped his hand and started walking again.

“I’m just joking. You should see the look on your face.’’ Hoseok was doubled over with laughter.

“The pizza won’t be there forever, hurry up!’’

“Race you?” He offered.

“You’re on.’’

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piracytheorist · 4 years ago

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I watched and react to Lindsay Ellis' 100 minute long "apology" video so you don't have to

First of all, the word apology is in quotes because she herself on that video mocks the whole concept of an apology video, which is fair cause truly that whole concept is fucked up, but I didn't want to call it excusing either because that's not what she does either... for some parts. Long post ahead.

So into the video, homegirl starts by saying she was recently in a restaurant. Recently. Restaurant. I'm not gonna make a deep research to find out where she lives, she mentions she's from Tennessee but idk if that's where she lives now, so unless she's somewhere in like Australia or New Zealand or any other place with significantly low numbers of covid cases... what is she doing, not only going into a restaurant during a fucking pandemic, but also telling it to her entire 1 million subscribers specifically and the whole world in general? I think it shouldn't be said it's irresponsible as it is, it's also a bit insensitive considering so many of us don't get to have that kind of luxury as it is now, either as customers that don't get to enjoy an evening/night out or as restaurant owners that watch their businesses collapse. Small thing to complain, but still.

That said, personal note, because I know some of my followers live down there in Australia or New Zealand; I'm happy for you, but I'm also jealous, and in a weird way right now being in a country with few covid cases is kind of a privilege. So enjoy that for yourselves.

Ok, second, introducing the concept of cancel culture, she goes on to talk about some cases where two white people made some well-intended but overall insensitive jokes and she talked about how their behaviour was, particularly, white privilege. Ignoring the fact that she's showing her own privilege by saying that she went at a restaurant during a pandemic, she says it all in the whole meaning of how cancel culture focuses on targeting, bullying and verbally lynching a person who acted on their privilege instead of looking out to tell them "Yo what you did was shitty but look out to do better" and how that either originates or is strengthened by nazis who pretend to be cool progressive lesbians of colour on twitter (that latter part is my own description, but similar to what Lindsay said). And the whole point about cancel culture is valid - she the use of the ol' "Listen to voices of POC" and that it is not valid because behind those "Queer progressive POC" accounts hide nazis... but she ignores the fact that another way to see that is "Are you white? Have you considered shutting the fuck up?"

And I say that as a white woman myself. I am very well aware that there are topics I cannot touch upon. Like, I have my thoughts, ok? About all races, religions (at least the major ones), sexualities, gender expressions. I can't help the thoughts... but I try my best to control my actions. There are times that I think something and I go like "Wow, can you realize how much the internet would drag you if you said that on a post?" so I shut the fuck up because a) I recognize my privilege and b) I'm mostly uneducated on most things I may have problematic thoughts on. Lindsay... idk exactly how educated she is, I know she has degrees, but in this case that doesn't seem to matter because she doesn't seem to have the concept of Shutting the Fuck Up White Person. That's what the "Listen to voices of POC" started for. Because historically POC have been the ones to be silenced and ignored by white people. So it doesn't matter if you're a woman, if you're bisexual, if you're educated, whatever whatever. If it's not your area, learn to shut the fuck up. And it's there that the problem begins, that Lindsay doesn't seem to get that idea.

Later on she says that a person on twitter compiled a thread of Lindsay's "sins" aka screenshots of problematic (or not) tweets, and though she (tbh rightfully so) considers making that compilation weird and creepy, she goes on to address every tweet on that thread.

I'm not gonna go down all of them cause from my judgement, some were legitimately very far-fetched to make her look problematic. And look, I don't think she's problematic. It's just that she has a lot to say and sometimes it feels like she has a need to say it all.

At the beginning, she mentions that twitter is garbage. Which, agreed, I've hateposted about that hellsite tons of times. But she's been knew it was. She had people bully her about her tweets before, and she kept at it, white person speaking, and like at some point you're like... is it fucking worth it? You know twitter is garbage. Is the clout you'll make on it worth it? You know people will judge you. You know they will take your sayings out of context. You know there are people obsessively following your page just to spot the tiniest piece of stuff you didn't think three hours on before posting so that they can crucify you over it. You been knew, we been knew. So I'm asking again, is it fucking worth it?

She even said it wasn't the first time she was cancelled, it's just that this last time has been the biggest one (... yet). So... why are people fucking obsessed with that fucking site? I'm a former bully victim, I detest and oppose bullying of any kind, but after a point, when you see a minefield, you gotta know that if you go skipping around without a second thought... ya gonna get hit. I may understand some people staying on twitter out of spite and/or in the hopes of "fixing" it... but again that's kinda hopeless and we all know that. There’s a saying in Greek that translates to “No matter how sugar you pour on it, shit won’t turn into lokum.” And that’s exactly what twitter is. Shit that people try to make functioning. It won’t.

I know the Shut The Fuck Up may be a bit excessive but... we all have opinions, yeah? It's a bit frustrating too considering she makes long videos that clearly have a lot of thought put into them, and then she goes on twitter and posts whatever the fuck comes up in her mind like... you should know better. In a way, Shutting The Fuck Up is also a way to avoid being seen as a bigot when you're not. Let oppressed groups do the talking for you, 'kay?

On another "receipt" she admits she was wrong, quote: "It was insensitive and careless. I definitely should not have said that." At the same time she says that she was influenced by her environment, and she also doesn't actually apologize. In a way she's sincere because a good sociopath would have searched and found that a good apology includes the words "I'm sorry" or some variation, and not trying to explain yourself by the circumstances surrounding you. So, it's sincere, but it feels a bit void. No-one cares what brought you to do this, we only care to see if you’ve changed from that.

I'm also putting the word receipt in quotes because I just think the whole concept of "receipts" is fucking weird, and as I said, some of them are completely pointless and taken out of context to make Lindsay look like the next Hitler. But I don't have another word for it so I'll go with that.

The next "receipt" is about her tweeting about the film The Prince of Egypt and mentioning the scene of killing the Egyptian first-borns, and being accused for anti-semitism because of it. First of all, your problem there ain't the film, it's the Bible, a work that was created by people who thought that a woman is a man's property, and then later on translated and modified by people with similar or worse problematic ideologies. The Prince of Egypt is a film that is inspired by the book of Exodus but at the same time... it doesn't fully excuse the plagues. They're portrayed as a necessarily evil, but whether that bothers you or not depends on whatever your relationship is to God and the fact that he allows covid to be a thing right now. But on the video, Lindsay talks about the portrayal of the plagues and how they're excused so that the Jewish people can be free.

But... it feels a bit... maybe she hasn't watched the full film in some time, and considering she doesn't really like it, I understand why she's making the mistakes on thinking it does. Yes, the film shows the plagues as a necessary evil. But the whole song The Plagues is about Moses being torn in two about the whole thing. "And even now I wish that God had chose another. Serving as your foe on his behalf is the last thing that I wanted." When he warns Rameses about the last plague, the "camera" shows the depiction of the previous massacre of the Jewish children... and Rameses' son is at the bottom of the children being dropped in the water.

It not only foreshadows the boy's death, it also compares the two massacres. It's like "Your father did that to the Jewish people, so the God of the Jewish people will do the same to your people." The scene where the Egyptian first-borns are being killed is haunting. It's dark, without music, eerie... you're not supposed to be happy about it. So I don't see how all that's excusing. In a way, to a people that at the time was enslaved and even now still faces discrimination, it could feel like vengeance. There's a big talk about morals that can be done there but again; WE'RE WHITE. We should consider shutting the fuck up. At least on our own, if talked about with someone who’s part of Jewish culture, that’s another thing.

Lindsay also says that in the film it looks weird that from the moment we see Rameses lamenting the loss of his son, the film cuts to the Jewish people singing about Miracles. And like... again I guess she hasn't seen the movie in some time, cause that's plain out wrong. At the time Moses sees that the son is dead, he already looks depressed. When he hears the cries of the people crying for their children, he breaks down and cries too. When the Jewish people walk out and sing for not being slaves anymore, that's when he starts smiling a little, and more when they're finally out of Rameses' kingdom. And again, it's about the liberation of an enslaved people whose culture we're not presently a part of. Like, the death of the Egyptian children was a bad thing - in retaliation of the same thing happening to the Jewish babies - but whether it’s being excused or not has context behind it.

I'm also talking a lot about it because she mentions she likes the film Noah from 2014, and she shows a small clip from the flood scene where the people on the Ark are depressed (that's not the right word but I can't find it right now) because they witness the deaths of the people who weren't on. I haven't seen the film, so I don't know how much that impacts the survivors later, but she's completely ignoring the fact that The Prince of Egypt also frames the death of the first-borns as tragic and that also Moses breaks down over it.

On my own opinion; I'm agnostic and anarchist af so while I also disagree with the depictions and the actions that God took to free the Jewish people... it's a fucking fantastic film. Animation, voice acting, music, directing... But at the same time, I've watched a bit of her videos and I may be a bit sarcastic here but I don't trust the taste of anyone who watches Treasure Planet and only refers to it as "Disney's space pirate flop" instead of the underrated masterpiece that it is. But I'm also mentioning it not-so-sarcastically, because underappreciated as it is (because Disney deliberately made it flop by the way), Treasure Planet has not had a widely massive impact. Speaking as someone who adores Treasure Planet, it has had a huge impact... to those few who've watched it. So while I meh'ed at her calling Treasure Planet what she did, it was just that; a meh.

But The Prince of Egypt? It has had an impact on ME, an agnostic anarchist. I cannot even begin to imagine what impact it has had on the millions of Jewish people worldwide. So when someone who has studied Media (or whatever, I'm not gonna search through the "Lindsay Ellis is cancelled" results on gοοgle just to see what she has studied), and decides to make a... while a bit understandable, not so well-studied critique on a film with that kind of impact... Have you considered Shutting the Fuck Up? She says that on twitter, she got responses on said tweet where people talked about how important that film is to them. Is that what she needed, to learn about this film's impact? For her to not know that... it's a bit hard to accidentally be that blind about that aspect, especially with her studies.

It's once again difficult territory to wade through - and she deliberately placed herself in it. And as I said, her problem is with the Bible. Not with the film.

So... yeah. I don't think it was anti-semitism on her part, but definitely not a good, well-thought move to make.

Next is her talking about the time she wore a niqab in a non offensive (I guess) way on an old video. She mentions she addressed it on a stream where they laughed about how... cringe-y of the time the whole concept of the video was. And again, the "Not thinking before acting" as well as White Privilege comes out, both in the video and in the way she presents the circumstances behind it. What inspired her to do it doesn't fucking matter. What matters is that she didn't think. Though she says she regrets it, she seems she only does so because she got responses from Muslim followers that told her "Please don't do that." Again, the fact that she needed someone else to say it... that's uninformed. And honestly, when you have such a following, you have a responsibility to know better. Money from patreon and youtube ads carry that. She does say she regrets it though.

Next, is her being called out for her "Dear Stephenie Meyer" video. In it basically she talks about how a lot of the earlier hate for Twilight was because of the fact that society hates teen girls and hates what they like and consider it inferior, and since a lot of teen girls like Twilight, the society had to hate Twilight. At the end of the video, she even said "I'm sorry" towards Meyer. That's a very quick summary and she had some good points, but this is Stephenie Meyer we’re talking about.

Oof. There's a LOT to unpack here.

For those of you who don't know, Twilight as a whole franchise has a ton of issues with racism, particularly against indigenous people and the very real, existing Quileute tribe. Lindsay says that at the time she made that video (2018), the backlash on Meyer was not so much about said racism. And boy, that's plain out wrong. She just didn't do enough research for it. And again, it's not deliberate. I'm not accusing Lindsay of racism. But Twilight was problematic (and even I as a semi-follower of the Twilight Rennaisance, as well as most of the fellow fans I've seen, admit that openly and we hate Meyer for it), and as I had watched that video, I know she did research on it. I find it outright impossible that a search for "Twilight criticism" wouldn't turn up some mentions about the Quileute racism, especially in 2018 with the fandom’s resurgence. There's an entire page from the Burke Museum in Seattle talking about the misconceptions of the tribe in the books and how little benefit the tribe has seen from having their culture appropriated by a white woman. Saying that it wasn't a common criticism is either a poorly put lie or an open confession that she didn't search much. Maybe she only searched about Stephenie Meyer and misogyny. I don't know.

Look, it is true that at the time of late 2000′s, the criticism was what Lindsay said; all about hating teen girls. I'm sure that there was criticism on the racism, but it was either less promoted or was trumped by the former type. But ignoring it completely, when at the time she made that video the criticism on racism was already getting more and more recognition... just why, Lindsay?

So again, I don't think it's deliberate. But it's poor pre-thought, poor work on it, and again when you have such a big following (and while Lindsay keeps saying how she's not that much famous on youtube, when you have a million subscribers and ten thousand patrons... ya ain't unheard of either) you have a responsibility to know better and research better before you do anything on it. Youtube is Lindsay's job, and she doesn't do a very good job at it when it comes to recognizing her white privilege and working beyond it.

Then she says that she talked with some indigenous (she doesn't mention they're Quileute btw) people about it; some said they hated the depiction, some said they liked that they were represented. Although why you would like to be represented by Jacob in Eclipse and Breaking Dawn, I have no fucking clue. In any case, it feels like because there were indigenous (no mention of Quileute talking with her, again) people who were okay with the inclusion, she felt that it was okay to make the whole Meyer apologia video without a single mention to the racism fact.

She also showed a video of a Quileute woman talking about how after Twilight, they were able to get back land that was taken from them. Given back by Obama, by the way. And... including this clip feels like... an excuse. Saying that Twilight, despite being racist, was somehow okay because it brought attention to the real Quileute tribe, and I hope y'all see why that is messed up. Meyer could have handled the issue better, and included the characters with much more respect and given them credit and some idk money from the millions she made appropriating their culture (though Lindsay mentions that last thing), but Lindsay thought that apologizing to Meyer anyway for being against her due to internalized misogyny in the late 2000's was the right move. It is true that at the late 2000's little of the known criticism was about the racism, but it's still a big fucking problem and purposefully ignoring that to apologize to Meyer... not a good look.

Again, blind due to white privilege, and acting without trying to see the whole picture. She says that Meyer, a white, rich, Mormon woman does not deserve the harassment she got, and again I'm against bullying but like... Meyer fucking sucks, and we ought to at least recognize that. She's not the one who deserves an apology - the Twilight fans *cough*me!me!me!*cough* who just wanted to enjoy the books and films (horrible as they were) in peace are.

By the way, the Quileute tribe has a fundraiser so that they can move their land to a higher ground where they won't be affected by tsunamis (and to her credit, Lindsay mentioned it and shared the link, but she said that another youtuber brought that to her attention, and again, where's the fucking research, Lindsay, pretty much every Twilight Renaissance post I've seen about the anti-indigenous attitude mentions that fundraiser and you're telling me it didn't come up in your searches) so if you can donate you definitely should: mthg.org

I mention around how Lindsay doesn't say "I'm sorry", and while as most people, I'd rather have no apology that a performative apology, it feels a little icky, that while she recognizes some of her screw-ups... I'm not sure if she recognizes that said screw-ups that-veer-towards-but-are-not-exactly-or-intentionally racism, ableism, anti-semitism, and transphobia... that shit is the shit twitter nazis thrive off of - and not to cancel people, but to build their own bigotry and take the attention away from actual hate crimes happening. And as a youtuber with a million subscribers and ten thousand patreon supporters, again, she should recognize her privileges a little more. Am I blaming her for nazis using her poorly thought tweets? Should she be super duper careful and spend a lot of time on her tweets to make sure nothing remotely problematic is on them?

... I mean, why the fuck do y’all think I hate twitter?

Next, she mentions being called out for "saying" that "trans-men are less oppressed than cis women" which she says is not what she said, but instead that "she's spoken to trans men who told her that they experience less misogyny after coming out". She even openly mentions it as "anecdotal" in her original tweet. And while I get that, my question is.... what's your fucking business about it? You're cis, shut the fuck up, let trans people talk about it.

Like, fuck. We haven't reached a time where acceptance of LGBTQ+ people, especially trans people, is at such a high that cis people by themselves can openly discuss about the experiences of trans people. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Just show your support for trans people, let them do the talk about their lives and experiences, and share their content if you want your followers to know about trans experiences. If trans men experience less misogyny after coming out (and like, I understand why that would happen in some cases), that's not your area to gather twitter clout from. Think before you tweet.

TW: suicide mention, skip to after the ~ symbols if you want to avoid.

Next one is not problematic, it's just proof that Lindsay has no filter on twitter... which is probably the core of all the issues on this post. So condensing the whole thing; a Zack Snyder fan said "I don't like when people say that Zack Snyder hates his mother". A film critic was discussing with Lindsay about Snyder fans, and Lindsay, having never seen any Snyder fan actually say what the fan above said, responded in an obviously sarcastic way "I have it on good authority that Zack Snyder hates his mother." The next day, Zack Snyder's daughter killed herself, and twitter flooded to hate on Lindsay. Of course by the video, Lindsay seems to be upset by the whole thing and how bad the timing was for the post she made - and it is irrational to blame her on that. But! Zack Snyder's mother died in 2010, btw, from what I saw, and like... I think that some discussions around celebrities should be kept private, and this specific conversation between Lindsay and the film critic should have been private. Again, not problematic, but seems to show how Lindsay doesn't think before tweeting.

Next, she admits she was wrong about defending yellowface on the film Cloud Atlas and saying that it wasn't as bad as blackface. "My bad", no "I'm sorry". Again I don't know if an apology is what I "wanted", after all I'm also a privileged white woman, but idk some recognition that stuff like what she said are what twitter nazis thrive off of would have been nice. Because again, the good intention is there, especially by acknowledging how bad blackface is.

Anyway, some final thoughts, no I don't think she's problematic, or racist, or transphobic, or anything the twitter nazis like to label her as. I just think she's bad at tweeting (like many many people including yours truly, twitter sucks we've established that), and that as a youtuber with such an audience, she should understand her privileges a little more. Though she said she’ll step off from twitter and only use it to promote her books and other creators, so she did learn something from that.

As I said, we all have problematic thoughts. We all think of stuff that, if given a bit more thought, we’ll go like “why the fuck am I like this”. Our actions, on the other hand, is something fully on our control. And twitter thrives on people not putting too much thought on their actions, and letting their quick thoughts control them.

In conclusion, know your privilege, fuck twitter, and STAY THE FUCK AT HOME (except for you, Aussies and Kiwis, go all out - literally)

#Lindsay Ellis #tw: suicide mention #suicide mention tw

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yulmoldauer · 4 years ago

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it’s better not to say such things out loud (Tyson Jost/OC) Chapter 3

chapter 1 chapter 2 companion info

word count: 1331

warnings: none

notes: this is a short one! I wanted some feel good vibes so this is just introducing mason’s family a little (dw, there’ll be more later) and kind of beginning the friends to lovers trope.

The best place to play on the road was Detroit. Mason would die by that statement. The people there are great, in his biased opinion, but his family was there as well. It’s always an amazing feeling to have everyone there.

Tonight was a different kind of best-place-to-be, though, because his younger brother ended up scoring his first goal in the league.

“Fucking brat,” Mason grumbled as he took the unusual step to congratulate someone on the opposing team by tapping his stick against the younger’s shin pads. “You really couldn’t wait until my shift was over?”

“Not a chance, buddy,” Mickey tapped him in return.

“You know dad’s out in the stands crying, right?” Mason pressed the puck into his brother’s glove.

The game continued, and the Avs ended up having a lead of two points. The Red Wings were getting more and more aggressive in response, kicking it into high gear. That was fine, they were ready.

Mason was always ready to sacrifice his body for a few seconds to block shots. This was nothing new. He hadn’t been ready to take a puck to the back, that was for sure.

It fucking hurt. He wasn’t sure how it happened other than it was his fault that he jumped in front of it, and he wasn’t really able to get up. It felt like forever until play stopped and there were people around him, asking him questions, but he shook them off and stood up in no time.Soon enough the trainer was taking Mason back into the dressing room to properly look at his back.

He could have done it on the bench, but Mason was always anxious when it came to showing anything on his torso in view of other people.Well, there was that and the fact that he kind of felt like he couldn’t breathe. The trainer was pretty sure he just got the wind knocked out of him, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

“Jesus, that looked like a hard hit. Your brother’s got a pretty powerful shot, huh?” the trainer murmured as he looked at the red skin.

“Mick was the one that shot it?” Mason asked with a sigh once he was regaining control over his breathing.

“Yeah. Looked like he felt pretty bad.”

“Yes, by the way. He shoots pretty hard. He’d just whip pucks at me when I’d piss him off as a teenager.”

After a few more minutes of checking things out, the trainer cleared Mason to go back and play, finishing the last period.

He was nowhere near done for the night, though. He was sure he had a shit ton of media to do, was going out with his family, then would be allowed to go and collapse in his hotel bed.

“You look miserable,” Tyson snickered from across the room.

Mason was trying to bend his arm at an inhuman angle to reach the bruise on his back with an ice pack, though it wasn’t working well at all.

“It’s worse now than it was during the game,” he mumbled in return. “Mickey’s a little bitch, y’know. Fucker was chirping me through dinner. Asshole.”

“He asked about you, y’know. After we helped you off. He asked if you were okay and to tell you he’s sorry.”

“Okay, maybe he’s not an asshole. But still.”

“You need help with that cold pack?”

“You don’t have to-”

“Gimmie it,” Tyson ordered, crawling onto the bed and straddling Mason’s thighs. “Jesus, man, this looks like it hurts.”

“Yeah, it--ow,” Mason winced as the cold compress was pushed down on the bruise with no warning. “Fucker.”

It felt good though on his sore back. It was going to be worse in the morning, but that’s okay.

“You’re feisty tonight, huh?”

“I’m always like this,” he chuckled. “That feels good now that you’re not punching me with it.”

“I did not punch you, shut up.”

“You definitely did.”

“I’m gonna punch you now.”

“Do it. Dare you.”

“Would you shut up,” Tyson laughed, pressing extra hard on the bruise. That caused Mason to squirm and wound up knocking Tyson over onto his side on the best, the two bursting into a fit of laughter at how… almost childlike this was. It felt like some kind of dumb sleepover, the two exhausted from travelling and a long day yet hanging out and laughing like that didn’t matter.

And Mason could feel himself slipping down that slippery slope. The way he noticed how Tyson’s laugh changed depending on what happened (a bad joke got a groan, genuinely funny things got a very specific laugh that Tyson couldn’t even pretend to hide), how sometimes in the sunlight Mason noticed how pretty Tyson’s eyes were and the fluorescent lighting in the practice rink just couldn’t do them justice.

And this was an awful path to go down. Team mates were not the people to get crushes on, it never turned out well. Plus there was zero chance Tyson returned the feelings, in Mason’s honest opinion. One, why would he? Two, Tyson was probably straight, anyway. Mason was pretty firm in his belief that the whole “statistically there’s got to be quite a few gay or bi players” was bullshit and that the large majority of them had been forced out of the sport when they were young. Whether specifically through that, the homophobic language, or whatever, he was sure that most of them had quit before they had a chance to get to the NHL level.

Either way, Mason was fucked if he continued thinking like this.

He definitely did continue thinking like that. Especially because Tyson was so fucking supportive of everything having to do with Mason being trans.

Mason was comfortable and confident with himself, but having a friend like that… god it was nice. He hadn’t had it since early high school, probably.

A month went by and everything was fine. More than fine, actually. Good. Someone found out and the world didn’t explode. It felt like it was going to one night, though.

“How’d you know?”

The question hit Mason like a ton of bricks.

He and Tyson had been hanging out in their hotel room before a game, figuring they’d wait a bit after the morning skate to go get lunch.

“I dunno, I just always did,” Mason answered unhelpfully. “Why, are you thinking…?”

“Yes. No,” he added quickly. “I’m perfectly happy being a guy. It’s not that.”

“You’re thinking you might like guys?” Mason asked quietly, almost as if this was some dangerous or dirty thing to be talking about.

“Maybe, I dunno,” the other sighed, flopping down onto his bed.

“To be fair, I’m into whoever. So I was always just cool with… whatever. Growing up I’d been expected to like guys and found out I liked girls by practicing kissing each other.”

Tyson furrowed his eyebrows and propped himself up on his elbows. “Girls actually did that? I thought that had been a joke…”

“At least where I grew up,” Mason shrugged with a little laugh. “We were in middle school, though, We had no idea what we were doing.” Then, with fake shock, Mason put a hand over his heart. “You mean boys didn’t make out with each other in middle school?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not saying it was good,” Tyson rolled his eyes. There were a few more moments of silence before Tyson let out a heavy sigh. “I dunno, man. I just wish I… knew. It’s not even like I’m trying to ignore it, it’s just something I’ve never put the time in to think about. Sorry, you probably don’t wanna hear about my problems that… aren’t that big of a deal.”

“It’s not a not-big deal, man. I’m here for you, even if it wasn’t a big deal. Shit takes time to figure out. You know I’m the last fucking person to crucify you for it.”

“Yeah,” Tyson breathed. “Thank you.”

#im so sorry this feels like a filler chapter #I just didn't wanna hit yall with the angst Quite yet #like the Big thing #my stuff #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fandom #hockey #hockey fandom #hockey fanfiction #tyson jost #Tyson Jost fanfiction #tyson jost fic #hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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theshelbycurse · 5 years ago

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Escaping Bodyguards

OC Shelby!Sister

Summary: Lyssa Shelby is the twin sister of Finn Shelby and has always been protected fiercely by each and every one of her siblings. On the day of her brother’s wedding, Lyssa finds herself trying to navigate the ways of her protective older brothers while also having a bit of fun.

Warning: swearing, drinking and the tiniest crumb of smut that you can easily skip. (with an OC, NO incest will be happening today people.)

*not my gifs

Words: 5848

Today was the day. Throughout the many trials and tribulations that this family had faced together, Lyssa had to admit the strangest sight she has ever had a chance to witness was her brother, Thomas Shelby, standing in a Church, waiting for his bride.

Growing up in the Shelby clan, was unconventional to say the least. With an illegal betting shop running rampant on a daily basis just underneath her feet, to men with guns turning up on her doorstep for a various sleuth of reasons. It had reached a point where Lyssa would open the door and simply sigh in boredom of the predictability of it all.

Though while most would think that because Lyssa belonged to the most powerful family in Birmingham that her life was filled with excitement and adventures to an enviable amount. But sadly for the fifteen year old that most certainly was not the case. As Lyssa found herself with three and a half (Finn really tries his hardest sometimes) bodyguards spoiling any fun she might have.

Every time so much as a drop of whiskey ends up in her glass, Arthur is the one to steal it from her grasp and finish it off in one annoying gulp. Any time a lad so much as looks in her direction, John has stormed over to go and rob them of their eyes. And if it probably weren’t for Aunt Pol’s words of restraint then Lyssa was sure that all the boys in Birmingham would have been blind

But Tommy, he was by far the worst.

Since the moment that Tommy had locked eyes on the bouncing babe, the heart that he so adamantly denies owning melted to a pathetic little puddle. So from then on he has been by the side of Lyssa Shelby at his every possible moment. Helping her grow and watching her become the beauty that she was today.

But with that came its challenges, Lyssa had true Gypsy blood coursing through her veins that flooded her with this near untamable wildness that had Tommy exhausted at all times. And with age it most certainly got more dangerous, with her desires for partying, drinking and riding until the crack of dawn had paired alongside her looks that got most lads drooling from the corner of their mouths.

But today was different. Lyssa had promised him and Aunt Pol to be on her best behaviour throughout the whole ceremony. Though, Tommy wasn’t exactly going to be placing any bets on it.

The wedding was predictable, the Shelbys all rowdy and noisy, Lyssa’s cheers reaching Tommy’s ears with an unspoken glee over her acceptance to his more than risky choice in wives. And then of course Grace’s more poised side of the family. The calvary suit wearing cowards and their wives all sitting so straight Lyssa was sure that they must be held up by the sticks that were wedged so far up their arses.

The large group of bustling folk all pushed and pulled one another to the steps of the Church afterwards, John dragging Lyssa around with his arm draped over her shoulder as they whispered vulgar jokes to one another. The pair ultimately finding themselves beside Tommy as they grinned up at him with that mischievous glint that had him cursing under his breath.

Once the photo had been taken, the large party found themselves scampering back to Tommy’s large manor for the real fun to begin. Lyssa and Finn sharing gleeful glances to one another, in hopes that they might actually get the chance for some real havoc tonight.

But not even five minutes after entering the house, had Lyssa been dragged by her elbow by none other than her less than gentle eldest brother, Arthur. “What are you doing? I haven’t even done anything.” Lyssa squealed, fighting weakly to get out of Arthur’s tight grip whilst he tugged her throughout the lively party. Her face set in a deep frown, as she watched the envious sight of everything going on around her, with the knowledge that she was most definitely not going to be able to get anywhere near it.

“Yeah, and your not gonna do, are ya?” He not so gently demands, peering down at his wild sister as she makes good effort to avoid any scrutinizing eyes. With a heavy sigh, not in the mood for the taming of her inevitable rebellious tendencies, Arthur continued on his war path towards the meeting he knew was to take place. “This isn’t about you Lyssa. Tom wants a quick family meeting.” He responded, stomping through the maze of the house with John clipping at their heels.

After a fair amount of arguing between the three siblings on the right direction to the kitchen they finally found their way after the guidance of Tommy’s shouts leading them to their destination. Clomping down the stairs the three of them marched over to Tommy, Lyssa finding herself leaning beside Arthur as they waited for whatever this is to be over with.

“Right, boys, Lyssa, you’re all here. Today, this is my fucking wedding day.” Tommy proclaimed like they all weren’t just at the Church watching him take his vows less than 20 minutes ago. Lyssa rolled her eyes, sensing the second round of lectures she was going to get.

“Yeah, and you said there’d be no bloody uniforms.” John retorted, his anger for the red suits being one of the only things John has blabbered on about with Lyssa this entire day.

“Nevertheless- Nevertheless John, despite the bad blood, I’ll have none of it on my carpet. Now for Grace’s sake, nothing will go wrong. Those bastards out there are her family. And if you fuckers do anything to embarrass her, your kin, your cousins, your horses, your fucking kids, you do anything...”

“Tom? Jeremiah piped up, thankfully breaking Tommy out of boring rant.

“What?!”

“What about snow?” He asked, naively, Lyssa having to bring her hand up to her mouth to stop the giggles from toppling out of her mouth.

“Yeah, their women are sports, I’ll say that.” John joked, ruffling Jeremiah head in a tight amusing headlock, providing Lyssa with just enough distraction to steal the cigarette from Michael’s lips and bring it to her own. Swatting away his attempts to retrieve it back with ease as she let the vile toxins run rampant in her blood.

“No. No. No cocaine.” Tommy’s finger pointing down the line of boys with a set of instructions for each. “No cocaine. No sport.” He told John. “No telling fortunes. No racing.” He told Arthur, moving until he was in front of Lyssa and stealing the cigarette out of her lips and tossing it to the ground with that stern parental stare she loathed.“No drinking. No boys.” He commanded, Lyssa’s eyes growing wide and mouth dropping wide open in an almost comedic sight, ready to object to his ridiculous rules.

But he was already off, moving to Finn without giving her a chance to breathe, grabbing each side of his cheeks in a tight grip. “No fucking sucking petrol out of their fucking cars.” He seethed, spinning around and marching over to Uncle Charlie lounging against the wall casually. “And, you, Charlie, stop spinning yarns about me, eh?”

“I’m just trying to sell you to them, Tom.”

With a hand coming to pinch his eyes, in that typical sign of his overwhelming irritation, Tommy continued. “But the main thing is, you bunch of fuckers, despite the provocation from the calvary, no fighting.” His fury once again, making him step back up to John and Arthur. “No fighting. No fighting. No fucking fighting.” He fumes like a madmen, running up and down the line until he marches back into the center of the kitchen, holding his arms out wide. “No fucking fighting!” His voice bouncing off the porcelain walls with enough might that Lyssa was surprised hadn’t even managed to cause any one of the bustling workers to jump in fright.

Nodding to himself at the satisfying silence, Tommy brought his cigarette to his lips one more time, turning his head to the side to look at Lyssa, red in the face from the injustice she must be feeling. “All good with you, Lyssa?” He questions, clear in his voice that he wasn’t really caring for any opinions that his dear baby sister must feel.

“No wa-” Her objection not even a third of the way out her mouth before she was predictably cut off with a wave of his hand as he stomped his way over to her.

“Good.” His tone final, as he cupped her cheek in his rough calloused hand and put a kiss to her forehead. The scene being abruptly ended by a poor misfortunate waiter mistakenly bumping into the pair, his fate being sealed as Tommy threw him down to the ground in one harsh shove while Arthur chose to throw some miscellaneous glass at the lad.

Yet, while as entertaining as the moment might have been, all Lyssa could think about was how much she wished she was never born a Shelby.

~~~~~~

Night had finally taken over, and despite Tommy’s strict instructions, Lyssa was predictably ignoring them. Though if Tommy thought that Lyssa would have been able to sit through the shit storm that was Arthur’s speech and not down at least an entire bottle of champagne, then he was truly going mad.

With the alcohol warming her blood and the bubbles rising to the tips of her head, Lyssa found herself wandering round and round the many halls of the house until she found herself stumbling outside to sneak a peek at Finn’s riding skills that had apparently been commissioned.

Welcoming the night air into her lungs with a deep inhale, a fluttery grin stretched over Lyssa’s lips as she looked over to the blurry figures all crowding around the fire not too far away. Using the trees as her coverage, Lyssa sneaks to the edge of the party, peering around a large trunk. The alcohol in her veins not making her as foolish to believe that her older brothers wouldn’t crucify her to the spot if they saw she had snuck out to watch the men’s business.

Watching as Finn crossed the finish line with large strides in front of his opponent, Lyssa’s smile grew impossibly larger, following him on his horse as he continues a few more feet before bringing the beast to a stop and dismounting her. Feeling braver in herself, Lyssa takes the potentially foolish move and ventures out of her hiding spot and over to her twin in a mad dash of wild dark curls bouncing in the wind behind her.

“Well, well, well, and I was just starting to think that you were completely useless.” Lyssa teases, her brother whipping his head in the direction of her voice so rapidly he nearly tumbled over his own feet. A sight that already had Lyssa bursting into infectious giggles.

“Lys, what the fuck you doin’ out here? If Tommy spots you-” Finn garbles out, tumbling over his own words as he looks over Lyssa’s shoulder frantically, scared of the thrashing both of them will probably earn if any of their older siblings catch Lyssa stumbling around in the dark. If it wasn’t evident enough, being the twin of Lyssa Shelby was one of the cruelest curses there was, and Finn was very much aware of that.

“Calm down Finn, I thought your recent victory would have you in better moods.” Lyssa jokes, an uncontrollable round of drunken giggles falling out of her lips in the most obvious of ways. The very sight of it, making Finn spout every cuss he knew under his breath.

“And you’re off your fucking arse. That’s just bloody great that is.” He mutters, running a hand down his face like he’s some old fucking soul having to babysit some demon child. It continuing to be absolutely hilarious for Lyssa to witness.

“Jesus Finn, sometimes I think I have more balls than you do.” She jokes playfully, hands coming to rest on Finn’s shoulders as she gives him a light shake. “Come on brother, just let me have fun for only this night, eh?” Pretty blue puppy dog eyes staring hopefully up at him, that Finn was almost sure might even manage to get the likes of stone cold Tommy to bend to her will.

“Yeah, come on Finn, the young lady here is just wanting to have a good time. I vote you let her.” An unfamiliar male voice comes injecting into the air before Finn even had a chance to inevitably cave into her demands. Rowdy laughter falling at its heels as the two siblings turn with furrowed eyebrows to a small group of four or five boys crowding a few steps away from them.

Suit jackets long forgotten, with only their crisp white shirts on display and loose bow ties hanging around their necks while a bottle of dark amber liquid gets passed back and forth between them all. Yet, there was no need for questions on who decided to put their opinion forward, as in the middle of the joyous group laid a man with glistening eyes and a snake charmers smile, both of which being directed on the youngest Shelby.

With a new sense of thrill coursing through her veins, Lyssa turned to the unknown boy with a smirk tugging at her lips while the fire burning beside them created shimmering patterns on her jet black curls. “And I’m guessing you have suggestions on how I should spend this good time.” She teased, not even having to look towards Finn to know the face he was predictably pulling.

“A few come to mind.” He replies, an annoyingly arrogant grin painted on his face as he attempts at closing the gap between them.

Where she was sure that this mystery charmer was expecting the usual routine of girls crashing down on their knees for him after giving them one small ounce of his prestige attention, Lyssa was much too stubborn to fall under some rich boys tricks. “Sorry pretty boy, but if I was to have one night of freedom, I wouldn’t be turning to you.” She retorted, the show of turning her body away from his and back towards an impatiently anxious Finn not fooling many for the need this girl is obviously wanting to be chased.

“And why’s that?” He calls out once more, determination mixed with the necessity to prove his manly bravado to the group of his friend spectating, not faltering his efforts.

Turning her head back towards him with a sickly sarcastic smile, Lyssa couldn’t stop her champagne-filled mind from blurting out the first snarky thing she came up with. “The kind of excitement I’m looking for wouldn’t end in a couple minutes.” That smile of his only seeming to lift higher from the fiery girl’s venomous tongue, while the loud obnoxious laughs and shouts echo behind him from his fellow companions.

Though Finn was in no mood for such amusement, as he quickly spots that familiar hunched over figure marching over to the spot he was regrettably standing. So, with hurried movements, Finn grabs a hold of Lyssa’s shoulder and whispers down in her ear, away from the continued laughter the boys relent in stopping. “Alright I think it’s time you get back inside, yeah? I think I see Arthur coming over.”

With a clarity bursting through her tipsy haze, Lyssa’s eyes grow wider than they already comically were as she mutters a fuck under her breath as her gaze too lands on the unmistakable sight of her moustache owning brother rapidly coming their way. Swiveling around to face her charmer, Lyssa rushes out a somewhat goodbye, “Well, as entertaining as this was, I’ve got to go.”

Without even waiting for the confused ramblings she was certain were going to be called after her shadow, Lyssa’s long lanky limbs sprinted back towards the golden archway beckoning her safety away from overprotective bodyguards. Yet, as predictable as it was annoying, a harsh calloused grip grabs a hold of her elbow and has he stumbling on her feet upon meeting the hard stone-like chest of her unknown creeper.

But Lyssa isn’t given a moment to scramble and fidget against what could possibly be an overzealous drunken taking his chance on an unguarded companion, because their voice quickly squashes any fear and turns it into a completely different emotion entirely. “And what are you doing out ‘ere?” John’s hold on her arm growing to uncomforting levels.

“John, let me go!” Lyssa whined, pulling and tugging against him no matter how futile it was seeming to be.

“Not until you tell me, why me little sister is running round in the dark, stinking of booze worse than fucking me and Arthur put together.” John demanded, and despite having no where near the amount of fear imposing aura that Tommy exudes, he actually managed to cause of flutter of panic in Lyssa.

Stopping her weak attempts to break free, Lyssa’s eyes move sheepishly downcast as she tries to avoid meeting John’s crazed parental stare that she honestly didn’t know he had the capability to possess. “I just wanted to see the races, ok?” She meekly responded, her words coming out slightly muffled and only reducing her to more of a child-like standard.

Finding it near impossible to maintain his gruff persona, especially when his baby sister was looking more and more like that naive little 10 year old she had been when he came back from the war, John relented his grip and blew out a heavy sigh. “Fine, alright, but you best get back inside. There’s some fucking shit happening on tonight and Tommy will have a fucking fit if you get mixed up in it, yeah?” Lifting up her chin with his index finger til she met his gaze, with that new troubling curiosity.

“What’s going on?” She questioned with newfound excitement, the world of the Peaky Blinders always providing her with this bursting want to know more and more, until she possibly couldn’t store all the information away.

Yet, it seemed that thirst for knowledge wasn’t well appreciated by her other family members, as with an unavoidable slap across the back of the head, John cursed her off with a less than gentle shove back in the direction of the golden archway. “What did I just fucking say? Get back inside.” And with her better judgement, Lyssa went on her way back inside, unbeknownst to the fascinated eyes trailing behind her.

~~~~~~

Lyssa had actually managed to listen to her brother this time, knowing just the one thing not to fuck with was, business. As despite the many adventures of her life and the many troubles she has tumbled in, never once has she been brazen enough to battle with the dangerous underworld her family seemed to encompass.

Tommy saw to it that the littlest of his siblings stayed in the shadows of the gangsta lifestyle he committed himself to, the only gift they were given being a silent bystander in the background of family meetings out of the courtesy the title has. Family. But otherwise, Lyssa and Finn were to keep their hands clean from the blood and dirt, that he was sure would have rottened them down until they were just as broken as the three worn torn brothers battling their demons at every crossroads.

Granted he may have been more lenient when it came to the activities he chose to include Finn in, but no chance between an inch of his life would he ever beckon Lyssa into it. And he did to warn her as such at every opportunity that was given to him.

So, with the new damper in moods, Lyssa saw it best to camp out in Tommy’s office alongside a large bottle of champagne. It being the safest of whereabouts in order to not accidentally tumble onto a scene she should very much not be anywhere close to, so as to avoid a thrashing from either her aunt or brother that would have the back of her head sore in the morning to come.

Roaming around the large - potentially obnoxious - room, Lyssa lazily snooped through all the pictures littering the mantles whilst taking leisurely sips from the bottle in her hand. Not even taking too much notice to the sound of the creaking door being opened behind her.

“And here I was thinking that I had simply made you up.” A voice called out, that same voice that secretly nearly had her swooning earlier in the night. It causing her to spin on her heels to look at the painfully stunning boy leaning against the door with one hand on the handle.

“Did I really hurt your ego that badly that you’ve come searching for me?” She teased, that playful smile crossing her face once more as she watched him daringly inch further into the room and shut the door to a solid close behind him. A perfect smile of his own sitting on the corner of his lips so enticingly.

“More my pride.” He replied, his feet taking him further into the fire lit room while Lyssa remained off to the side, eyes never falling apart from one another.

“You’re a prideful man then? I must saw I was hoping for something not quite so predictable.” Lyssa snarked back, breaking off the locked gaze as she moved herself over to Tommy’s large desk to fully lean on, the painfully constrictive shoes forcing her feet with some much needed relief.

“So you admit that you were hoping for something?” He switched back onto her, that damn smile too dazzling to not draw Lyssa back in to that equally as dazzling face.

“I admit nothing.” Lyssa surprised by her own control to keep her voice level and chin pointed upwards, even with his continued path gaining closer and closer to small frame.

A small breathy laugh leaves his lips at her unwavering stance, the sound being enough for Lyssa’s grip round the bottle to tighten ever so slightly. It was really beginning to irritate her slightly that nearly everything he did seemed to make him more attractive.

“To answer your question, if I’m a prideful man? The answer is no.” The proximity between them melting until it was nearly nothing, his hand coming to unlatch hers from around the champagne bottle to put it on the desk beside her. His warm breath fanning Lyssa’s rosy cheeks. “But you set me a challenge. And I’m never the one to back down from a challenge.”

He was towering over her now, hands coming to gingerly place themselves on either side of her waists while hers remain frozen to her sides, all of Lyssa’s brain function flying out the window. She was shocked that she was capable of uttering out any more words. “I don’t remember any challenge.” Her voice just above a whisper at this point, as if they were in a bustling room trying to keep their conversation quiet enough so they would be the only ones that could hear it.

In an action that made an audible gasp come falling out of Lyssa’s mouth, his hands on her waist tightened and lifted her up and onto the desk with his new place being found between her newly opened legs. All sense of space completely banished as her hands came to grip on his most likely expensive suit jacket while his remained fierce on her waist.

Lips a mere inch from one another, Lyssa’s darkened eyes found his as he uttered his next words. “You reckoned I could only last a couple minutes. I’m here to prove you just how wrong you are.” Without a moment even to let his words sink in, his lips were crashing into Lyssa’s, no tender moment shared but only a lust filled battle for dominance that the Shelby was happy in conceding in.

Her hands winding up to take purchase in the soft tendrils of his hair on the back of his neck, her sharp nails digging in roughly that left a gaspy growl fall into her mouth. His movements not being any gentler as the grip on her waist tightened impossibly firmer, pulling her into his hard chest while remaining seated on the desk.

With nearly all the air being sucked dry from their lungs, both parties pulled away only by a hair, their heavy breathing filling the silence that is quickly replaced by an abrupt breathy moan coming out of Lyssa’s mouth as he moves down to place hot wet kisses down the length of her neck. Expertly finding the sensitive spot just in the crook of her neck, below her earlobe, causing a euphoric feeling of bliss taking form in a multitude of quiet moans filling the air.

The sound being enough for Lyssa to feel the breathtaking feeling of his hard cock beginning to bulge against the warmth of her inner thing. Greedy hands moving quickly to rid him of the belt constricting him away from her, the action alone admitting another guttural growl out of him as he moves his own hands down to her soft thighs.

Mouths finding each other once again while the final pieces of clothing are stripped away from their most sensitive areas, Lyssa’s moans erupting in his mouth as she feels his cock aline to her slits. And with one slightly unexpected thrust, Lyssa wasn’t able to quieten herself as yet another moan slips out into the empty office. It echoing off the walls forcing her to move her mouth to his shoulder to muffle the noise, whilst he continued on with his mind fogging thrusts, getting deeper and harder at each movement.

However, just as Lyssa began to feel the uphill climb begin towards her climax, the grand door blocking them off from the rest of the party comes swinging open in a rapid succession. The action immediately setting both Lyssa and....the boy who she has realised remained nameless throughout... into hurried and clumsy movements as they bounced off of each other and attempted of sorting their clothes in a stupidly inconspicuous fashion.

With the worst dread she has ever felt in her entire life, Lyssa locked eyes with Tommy, sliding off his desk and flattening out the end of her skirt with an awkward and uncomfortable smile stretching on her lips. She just watched Tommy stand there, his jaw visibly tight as his cold eyes continuously flicked back and forth between herself and the boy with his back turned to him still as he continued to readjust his cock back into his pants.

The silence of it all torturous as Lyssa waited for Tommy to do something; whether that be to start screaming or pull the gun she knew he had hidden somewhere around his office and end the poor lads life right where he stood. “What is this then?” His voice chilling Lyssa straight down to her bones as he wafted his hand between the two of them, it terrifying her so deeply that all the words in her vocabulary had simply escaped her. It leaving her mouth to simply open and closed like some sort of pathetic fish thirsting for oxygen.

“Eh?” He prompted, eyebrows raised so high that they were nearly falling under his hair. Heavy footsteps storming closer to the door left wide open, only to slam it close in a thunderous clap that reminded Lyssa of the storms that used to terrorize her as a child. “You see, cause from where I’m standing-” His footsteps bringing him back into the centre of the room, his eyes blazing fury as he meets Lyssa doe eyed gaze. “It looks like that I walked in on me 15 year old sister getting fucked by some stranger, on me own desk, in me own house, on my own fucking wedding night!!” He roared, his presence trapping Lyssa against the desk as he stood a mere two steps away from her, like the true lion that he is looming over his prey.

“Mr Shelby, if I may say that I’m sorr-” The boy sputtered out, not even being able to get his flimsy excuse of an apology out before Tommy quickly strays away from Lyssa and goes marching over to him.

Tommy’s hands find themselves wound tightly around the poor lads neck, pushing him into the hard wooden wall behind him with such might that it has him already gasping with a necessity to breathe instantaneously. Ignoring the shouts Lyssa gives him from her place against the desk, Tommy’s hands dangerously tighten as he leans further into the struggling boy’s face. “If you are not out of this house in 30 seconds, then me and me brothers are going to start slicing pieces off of you until no girl is ever going to be able to stomach looking at that face of yours again.” Giving him one last knock against the solid wall before he forces him to meet Tommy dead in his ice blue eyes. “Is that clear?”

His dark threats gaining a hurried nod from the boy, before he is quickly scampering out the room the moment Tommy relented his life threatening grip. The speed he was moving in that would’ve proven comical to Lyssa under literally any single other circumstance then the mortifying one she found herself drowning in.

The moment that the doors once again slammed with a heavy bang, Tommy managed to turn his attentions back onto his little sister, that same questioning look from before still painted on his features as their gazes locked onto each others. “So?” He prompts, motioning with his hands in an annoyed attempt to start hearing whatever tales and excuses she has on the tip of her tongue.

Though, while Lyssa usually finds herself fully capable of combating any person, in any situation, with her witty remarks and scathing snars, she find herself for once in her life with a complete blank slate on what it is she could possibly respond with that wouldn’t make this all horrifyingly worse. “I’m not quite sure what you want me to say.”

Retreating back into the cold, quietly threatening state that Tommy so loved to impose on his sister, his ice blue gaze burrowed deep into the meak facade Lyssa tried to defend herself with. “How ‘bout you start with telling me how long it’s been going on.” He not so subtly demands of her, the thought of what she has been doing for god knows how long making his jaw clench into near teeth shattering tenseness.

“How long what’s been going on? I just met the lad tonight! I-” Lyssa retorts back, her voice already raising to risky levels.

“Hey!” He cuts her off, striding back towards Lyssa with a finger pointing right into the center of her face. “I have about a million fucking things going on right now and so one thing I really don’t need is your fucking cheek!” He boomed, only lowering his voice for a mere quarter of a second as his eyes grow scarily dark peering into Lyssa’s icy blue. “Now you’re going to explain to me why you think it’s right that you can go around fucking whoever you fancy like some common whore, when you are only 15 years old!”

As the words leave Tommy’s mouth, all thoughts of fear for the wrath of Tommy Shelby dissipated into nothing but an overwhelming rage that was tearing up her insides into flares of flames. Pushing against his chest with a mighty shove, Lyssa watched as he stumbled with a deep satisfaction. “God, can you hear the amount of fucking hypocrisy-”

“Look at you using fancy words. At least I know that you’re still going to school.” Tommy snarks, antagonising her to the furthest of her wits end. The feeling of literal smoke coming out of her ears sounding too much like reality.

“Fuck off.” She spits, marching right back up to his face with that infamous Shelby anger waging a war inside of her. “You know we are literally standing in a house you share with your new wife who I’m sure wasn’t the one to be waiting for any vows to spread her legs open for you. I mean there’s fucking living proof sleeping just above our heads yet I don’t see you calling her a fucking whore!”

Hands gripping onto her jaw with a bruising force, Tommy seethed, “Oi, you say another word-.”

Shoving his hands away from her, Lyssa let out a breathy humorless laugh. “Yeah I get it Tom. Big bad scary Tommy Shelby’s going to set me out straight. You don’t have to say any more.”

A deafening silence rung in the air for much longer than was comfortable, both siblings simply staring at one another with harsh heavy breathing being the only thing that was left to fill the room any more. “Right.” Tommy muttered, reaching into his pockets for his trusty cigarettes. “You are obviously having too much fucking freedom down in Small Heath. So, starting tomorrow, I’m sending a few boys to come and pack up all your stuff to bring here. You’ll be living under my fucking roof, where I can keep an eye on you and where there are gonna be some strict fucking rules, that starting from now, you are going to follow.” Tommy listed off, that calm business-like stature oozing off of him in infuriating waves.

Knowing that she was fighting against a losing battle, Lyssa tried to object in the service of her pride. “Tom, you can’t be serious!”

“Oh I am, and if I here that you have been running off with any sort of boy, then you will get the fucking thrashing of your fucking life. Do I make myself clear?” Tommy threatened, and by this point Lyssa was not brave enough to combat against his dark intimidations.

“Yes.” She uttered, any sort of adrenaline wearing off of her tired bones as she lazily met Tommy’s gaze with little interest.

Tommy stood there studying her for a second longer, wondering if some sort of second wind was going to hit her. But with the pleasant silence, Tommy simply motioned to the door with equally as tired movements. “Good, now go up to the guest bedroom and sleep it off. Hopefully the hangover tomorrow will serve you as a good start to your punishment.”

And so she did. Lyssa trudged through the party that was only beginning to wind down and up the grand staircase and into the room that had been assigned to her, only this morning. Flopping face first on the comforting mattress, willing sleep to guide her away from the madness of the Shelby clan and into a world of her wildest fantasies. Neither Tommy or Lyssa knowing the fate that had been sealed for her that night as new plots thicken and new enemies crawl out of their shadows with her position has now being maneuvered into the firing line.

~~~~~~

A/N So this is my first post on here. I’ve written fanfics before on Wattpad and stuff but the format on here is so different so I’m unsure how I feel about it so I would love some feedback and if anyone would like some more moments from Lyssa and the Shelby’s please hit me up

#peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy x grace #season 3 #arthur shelby #john shelby #polly gray #michael gray #oc #oneshot #ada shelby #smut #angst #fanfic

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welcometocaritas · 5 years ago

Text

‘IF YOU LOVE ME, DON’T LET Go’

First chapter of my yumagna fic is out ladies and gentlebabies!

Chapter: 2/7

Characters: Yumiko & Magna

Pairing: Yumagna

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Format: Multi-Chap

Summary: At some point, you just have to let go - or so Yumiko keeps telling herself.There was never any letting go of Magna.

Links: A03, FF.NET, Wattpad

A/N: This is a shorter chapter and is basically just a little look at Magna's history (I'll be getting into Yumiko's around about chapter 6).

I really didn't mean to make Magna's backstory as angsty as I did, it just sort of . . . happened as I was trying to figure out where her head's been at with her relationship with Yumiko, and why she's been doing some of the things she has. I don't take some of the situations I've used lightly, especially since they can be extremely triggering for people and I wanted everyone in the fandom to be able to read this. The child sexual abuse is in there because I'm pretty sure that's what the show was implying when they mentioned Magna's cousin. Everything's pretty much implied or referenced. I don't think I go into great detail. There are no actual scenes with the stuff.

So I've done some half-assessed calculations that are probably shit but I'm gonna go with them for the sake of this story - I'm a little worried that lack of sleep might have made me mess up some of the maths but oh well. I used the actresses' real ages for this, went back 10 years to before the apocalypse so Yumiko would have been around 27 and Magna around 22. Now Magna had to have been out of prison long enough to get a job - which is NOT easy to do but I decided to grant her a stroke of luck and had her being out of prison for around at least a year. Now Michonne mentioned hard prison time - whether Magna actually experienced much of this time, or if it was just that she expected to and got a tattoo before being allowed out early is up in the air - and I've gone with giving her about three-four years in prison, because I didn't really want to drop below the age of 17 for her being sentenced. I'm headcannoning their meeting when Miko was 24 and Magna was 19, so about her second-third year in prison.

Also my understanding of the law is . . . not great? I basically only know what I've gleaned from reading about injustices and corruption in the system so if you're a lawyer and notice any mistakes please don't crucify me and I didn't do much research for this story when I normally do heaps cos I wanted to get it finished quickly. However, I have based a lot of the incidents mentioned throughout this fic on real situations/cases that I've read about so there is that element of truth to it. I did my best anyway. I think the issue will be that there are a lot of variations between states and laws changing over the years. I recently fell down a Proven Innocent rabbit hole because Rachelle Lefevre playing a bisexual is hard to pass up and, like with Nadia Hilker, I'm addicted to her hair (Abbey knows I have a hair fetish, she understands my weakness when it comes to these things).

"I learned at a young age that if I was ever going to see justice for the wrongs done to me, I had to find it myself."

― Erin Merryn

. . .

Magna didn't think she'd ever regret what she did - the bastard deserved it, and if the justice system wasn't such a joke she never would have had to go to such lengths - but she did regret what it had done to her relationship with Miko. What she had done. Lying wasn't difficult for her - even if she had always preferred a more blunt approach, along with the honesty that entailed - but lying to Yumiko had been . . .

She'd hated every second of it. Hated even more the toxic resentment that had started to build up inside her as a result, the way a gentle kiss could make her stomach turn, her thoughts sickening her as they bubbled up from the dark pit in which she tried to keep them contained; the number of times a loving look had made her want to snap, to let the truth fly free and watch as everything between them burnt to ashes.

(it'd be everything she had been waiting for, after all - for thirteen years)

Because Miko . . . Miko was so good. And she cared so much, sometimes more than Magna could bear, and none of it was real. All those feelings had grown from a lie that she'd never had the courage to uproot, to set before them and watch as the disgust bled into her lover's - her best friend's - eyes. Because Miko thought she was good as well, and whilst Magna didn't think that what she'd done was wrong, she also knew it wasn't right. Justice, maybe- definitely, but not Miko's version of justice. Not part of the framework she had chosen to study and dedicate her life to. Magna's version of justice didn't fit in her world, couldn't and worse . . .

Neither did Magna.

She hadn't been able to trust Yumiko's love for her, that it could withstand the impact of truly knowing her; and in the end, she'd only sabotaged what she had hoped to protect. She was self-aware enough to realize that part of that had been intentional. When their relationship had crossed over the border of friendship, when they had gotten all that more close, too close, something inside Magna had rebelled. Something panicky and defensive, revolting at the love that was building inside her, the safety she felt lying in Miko's arms (a place she never wanted to leave); that fear that it was only temporary, too temporary, that one day Miko would wake up and realize just who she'd fallen into bed with, and then it would all be over. The longer it continued the worse it would hurt. She hadn't been able to wait around for it to get to that stage. Instead, she'd forced the gears into rapid motion, propelling herself towards that inevitable heartbreak whilst she still had some heart left for herself, before she gave it all away to Miko.

(and deep down, knowing it was already too late, that Yumiko had taken her heart years ago, and Magna had barely murmured a protest)

It had been impulsive. And stupid.

And after everything was said and done it still fucking hurt. It hurt so much she could barely breathe in the aftermath.

She hadn't been able to save herself from that.

And she'd tried to explain to Miko why she'd done it but it had been a poor attempt, born more out of spite than any rational thinking. She hadn't even really tried. Because in the end, she hadn't seen the point. Wasted energy. Wasted hope. She couldn't see a future in which Miko would be able to understand. To understand and forgive her and love her still.

Because she couldn't understand, not really.

(and sometimes she hated her for that)

Because Miko was a good ass fucking lawyer and she had seen the system work as a result, but all Magna had ever known were its failures: how she'd had to move in with her uncle and his wife after her mum had gone to prison for killing her own father, never mind that it had been in self-defense; and later, watching the sick bastard who'd preyed on her cousin be allowed to walk free even after pleading guilty - rather, from what she'd gathered, because he had pled guilty, his easy compliance and willingness to accept a deal leading him to walk free with barely a slap on the wrist fine and a registration as a level 1 sex couldn't even search his name or address on the local registry when he was considered that low a risk.

How the fuck was any of that justice?

Though, she supposed she should be grateful, in a way. That same system that had wreaked havoc across her life had also allowed her to be released after only serving four years - less than - when Miko had found far too many ways to poke holes in her case; much better than the life sentence she'd been staring into ever since she'd left the courthouse for the final time.

To be fair, the case against her had been less than flimsy in the first place, the evidence circumstantial at best - they'd never even found the murder weapon. Surprisingly, all those cop shows she'd binged growing up actually came in handy for something. She wasn't an idiot, she planned ahead, did what she could to cover up.

But she'd also been realistic. She'd known back when the crime was still only a hypothetical in her head that getting away with it wasn't the most likely outcome, that she'd probably go to prison, maybe even for the rest of her life. But as long as he didn't get to live his - as long as he wasn't given a chance to do to another child what he'd done to her cousin -that had seemed like an acceptable price. It wasn't like she'd had much going for her, anyway. Hell, given the state of her bank account and failed education, she probably would have ended up going to jail for petty theft one day, regardless.

And at least you got free boarding and meals in prison - though she would have rather starved and slept on the street than feel so trapped every second of her life, to the point that when freedom did come it was that which felt unnatural to her.

If Magna's court-appointed lawyer hadn't been breaking under the weight of over a hundred ongoing cases she might never have been sentenced in the first place. Not that she had even had it in her to care at the time. Even now, those months were almost a complete blank in her memory. She could remember that she'd been in a daze for most of it, that she hadn't been feeling much of anything - a welcome liberation from the all-consuming rage that had burned within her for months before she drew that knife: not when the police locked her in handcuffs that pinched at her skin; not sitting in that courtroom with the press of too many people's eyes on her; and not when the door to her prison cell had slammed shut for the first time.

She could maybe recall her lawyer snapping at her more than once, frustrated and helpless as she refused to offer more than the occasional one word answer or grunt.

Years later, when Miko had finally come onto the scene, she'd been far more awake to her circumstances; too awake.

But she'd do it all over again, even now. Even with the memory of that look haunting the space between them, the way her heart had drawn in on itself, shuddering under the weight of all the judgment she'd expected but still not been prepared for.

He deserved it.

How could she let him just walk away?

How did Magna explain to Miko that the law she'd devoted her life to was nothing but shit? It was all gone now, anyway, the system that had ruined her life fallen away into dust along with the rest of civilization.

But Miko . . . Miko still looked on that lost world fondly, she missed it in a way that Magna never could and . . . even with all that rage boiling inside of her, begging her for an outlet, she couldn't take that from her; didn't want to.

One of them should have something worth remembering in this nightmare.

Magna could be selfish. She'd be the first to admit it. But she was also incredibly selfish about the people she loved. They came first - and fuck the rest of the world. And Miko . . . Miko was on the top of that list. It had killed her, being stuck in that cave, knowing that she had hurt her, that the last thing she would probably ever do in this sorry life was hurt the only woman she had ever loved.

And she wouldn't do that again.

Except she probably would. Because that's what she did.

She messed everything up. Including her and Miko.

But maybe that was for the best. She and Miko . . . they weren't compatible. They were like oil and water that had fallen into the same bowl and ended up stuck together, but always separate; Magna heavy and sinking to the bottom whilst Yumiko floated to the top, always.

They weren't meant to bond.

(but they did and they did it so well that-)

She didn't think she would ever be as open and trusting as Miko - but life experience warned her that that was probably a good thing, especially if she wanted to survive in a world where the dead wanted to eat you and most of the living wanted to kill you. It scared her, how easily Miko - and even Connie and Luke - let people in. She was terrified it was going to get them killed one day.

Kelly was more like Magna in that respect. They were both always preparing themselves for the eventual fallout. It was why Magna hadn't even had to bring up the idea of creating a stash - they'd both already fallen into the familiar habit of scrounging away what they could. In the past, that kind of safety net had been the difference between life and death. She hadn't felt good about it. Of course she hadn't. She liked the people at Hilltop, as much as she liked anyone who she couldn't allow herself to grow attached to, and she was so fucking grateful to be taken in by them, to finally have a home. But homes never lasted. Even before the Apocalypse they were nothing but a false promise you would end up hanging yourself with if you didn't keep your guard up. And Yumiko, Connie, Luke and Kelly were hers. They were her people. And at the end of the day, they came first. She had to protect them. Even if it meant doing things that they would never agree to, things they might later end up hating her for.

And Kelly. . . Kelly understood that because she was hard in a way that the others weren't and she had Connie. Kelly would do anything for Connie.

The thing was, even if she and Yumiko decided to try again, even if they could move past this, Magna didn't think she could change that part of herself. She didn't want to change it. How could she when it had the potential to keep Miko alive? She would rather destroy their relationship beyond repair than one day have to drive a knife through Miko's skull because she had failed to do the only thing she had ever been any good at - keeping them just that little inch further away from death's door.

Ten years and most of their group was still alive whilst the rest of the world had become a sea of ravenous corpses and that . . . that had to count for something.

It had to.

. . .

"What are you afraid of?

that you love him

or that you 've lost him

either way the heart beating in your chest

didn 't originally belong to you."

— You'll Be Buried With Him Painted Over You by Abby S

A/N: I tried to think about what kind of life experiences might have shaped Magna to be someone who could do what she did. Cos no matter how many of us might want to punish bastards like that when they do commit these crimes, most of us don't actually do it. There are things that restrain us. Certain moral codes, fear, faith in the justice system, having things that we don't want to lose, not being ready to sacrifice our freedom and our future if we get caught. For whatever reason, most people just don't cross that line. So I thought a lot about what we'd seen of Magna and the kind of person she is and how her past might have shaped her to be able to make that choice. I mean Magna cares about the people she considers hers a lot and she's very protective, so that's obviously a large part of it, but I knew there also had to be more. Also it's my head cannon that Magna loves kids, like they're one of her weak spots, but she keeps her distance from them because they remind her of her cousin, and because of the person she's become since her cousin died. . . . OK, just gonna do a little shameless self-promotion, hope you don't mind :)

I made a yumagna vid so if you haven't seen it already and you're interested it's here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=grzrpr0QZEE (I'm gonna do more so if you want to stay in the loop subscribe to my youtube channel. I'll probs end up doing a short one for Unsteady because of this fic but I'm holding out till we get a yumagna hug)

I have an insta for yumagna called @yumagnas.home . my multifandom one is @bonnielextra (lots of awesome women that i make edits for just fyi) and my personal one is @cissyalice. Hit me up so I can follow some more yumagna stans!

My twitter is @bonnielextra and @tocaritas (for my edits). Currently just a lot of crying about yumagna on the first one.

And my tumblr is welcometocaritas. Obviously no pressure to look at any of these but I just thought I'd put them in just case :)

#yumagna #magniko #the walking dead #magna twd #yumiko twd #yumiko x magna #yumagna edit #yumagna fanfic #nadia hilker #eleanor matsuura #twd edit #twd fanfiction #mypost #my post #myfic

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ev-brokenrecord · 5 years ago

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Interview with Amy Lee of Evanescence on East Village Radio (Transcript) - March 23, 2010

Steve Lillywhite: Ah, Steve Lillywhite here on East Village Radio and I am joined by, shall we turn the microphone up for Amy? Um, do we have that? Is Amy? You’re on there? Hey, Amy Lee! Welcome to the Lillywhite Sessions! Amy Lee: Test, 1, 2, 3… yeah… Hey! How’s it going? *laughs* Thanks for having me! Steve: Here we are, yes, who would’ve of thought? Um… Amy: Everybody! Steve: Everybody would’ve thought… they’re all listening, all those ten people now! We’ve doubled our listeners… so that’s wonderful, and um, I’m just going to play one more song and then we’ll get down to chat. Amy: Sweet. Steve: Okay, this is the wonderful Damien Rice and The Blower’s Daughter. (Music Break: Damien Rice – The Blower’s Daughter) Steve: There you go, it’s nice and quiet now. This is Steve Lillywhite with Amy Lee and Amy, so, uh, I hear that you’re in town… you’re living in New York now. Amy: Yes, that’s right. Steve: Or more like Brooklyn. Amy: Well, whichever. Steve: Well, one of the two. Amy: Yeah *laughs* Steve: And uh, you’re here making a new album. Amy: Yes, with you! Steve: Oh, really!? Wow, that’s fantastic! Amy: Yeah, in fact I think we’re headed there right after this. Steve: Exactly! That’s why Amy came here towards the end of the show cause we’re both going to jump in a taxi afterwards and head off to the studio where we’re gonna be starting to do some singing. Amy: Yup. Tonight. Steve: And, tonight, I’m so excited. Although, I have to say, even her rough vocals are sounding extremely, extremely good. Amy: Ah! I’m ready to get rid of those rough vocal tracks, yeah… I’m ready to make it rule this time. Steve: Make it rule, well, I think so far so good. I mean these people say to me “Does it sound? What’s it sound like? Do you have any ideas of how would you describe this record so far?” Amy: It’s really hard because I just feel like it’s so many things at once. But, um, I’ve always felt that way. *laughs* Like every time we make a record, but I do feel like this record is definitely different even more-so than before, but in a really cool, good, true, way. You know, um, I think that there’s more influences from all over the place and honestly I’ve… in the creative process I had a lot more fun, I think than? I mean I had a lot of fun last time actually, making The Open Door was a great experience, but I don’t know… this is all the choices that you make when you’re writing. I feel like they were always about just what felt good and was really fun without thinking about any kind of consequences. Steve: Right, you have a great new, um, guy you’re working with, like, Will? Amy: Yes, Will, yes. Steve: Uh, his, his name is Will Hunt, although there is another Will Hunt. So… *laughs* Amy: Yeah, that’s right! There’s two Will Hunts in the band now, so, we have to always stick with the difference… and much to Will’s probably, I don’t know he probably hates it, hates it! Yeah! *laughs* But, um, we call him ‘science’ as a joke because he does so many of these cool beats, you know, and sounds… he’s really good at it. Steve: Yeah, he’s a, I must admit, you know, he’s a young guy from Texas and his time will come. He is a very talented, talented guy. Amy: I believe it. This may be that time! Steve: Yeah! Oh, this will be his time and um, I must admit, I’m every excited by working with him and all of you. Amy: Yeah, me too. Me too. Steve: So, uh, Amy has chosen a wonderful track off the new Depeche Mode album to play. Amy: Oh, yes! Steve: And, um, we’ll play that and talk about that afterwards, the opening song, called… Amy: In Chains. (Music Break: Depeche Mode – In Chains) Steve: Hi… Steve Lillywhite on the East Village Radio.com so, that’s it, it’s on the internet, it’s not on the radio. I’m here with Amy Lee and we are opposite the funeral home. Did you know, Amy, that in England we don’t bury our dead? Amy: Hey, *laughs* really? Steve: We just burn them. Amy: Awww. Steve: Because we don’t have any room. Amy: You don’t have the space, yeah. Steve: We don’t have the space, so, um… Amy: Well, New York feels that way. For sure, sometimes… Steve: New York, yes! If anyone dies in New York, they’d probably burn you as well. But, there you go! There’s nothing wrong with that. We all die at the end as you well know. Amy: You’re turning dark! Is that me rubbing off on you? *laughs* Steve: No, no, no, no… so, um, so Amy! Someone has been instant messaging us about lyrics. Amy: Yeah! What’s the question say? Steve: Inspiration, maybe? Or? Amy: Um, I missed the question… they’re just asking about inspiration! Where they come from, I guess… Steve: Well, what was the question about over there? Yeah! Amy: Um, just from my life! I mean, honestly, I’m always writing about what I’m feeling and a lot of times the things that I feel like I can’t say. Like to people around me or even to myself. So, it’s an interesting thing sometimes. I’ll listen back to lyrics, like a couple months later after recording them and writing them and then go, “Oh…”, like, I know what I was talking about. My subconscious was trying to tell me something. It’s really cool, it’s just very therapeutic for me. I definitely just write what makes me feel better and then sometimes the sense comes a little bit later. Steve: Right, right. And I’ve always said to new artists I’ve worked with, actually, I said “Journalists will always try and trick you, when they’ll always say ‘What’s that song about?’ You don’t, you never need to explain your lyrics because you always just say to them ‘What do you think?’” Amy: Oh, that’s good to hear! *laughs* Yeah, well, its art, you know. There’s so many ways that you can interpret it, and I think, um, it’s cool. I get all kinds of people saying that different songs mean different things to them. Steve: Different things to different people. Amy: And… I love that. Steve: That’s the thing, you know, I think sometimes when an artist is so specific about the meaning of a song… I just, quick story… I remember with U2, there was song off the Atomic Bomb album which Bono said was about his Dad, called ‘Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own’. And I always thought that he should never have been so specific about this being about his father because, in fact, the song could really mean a lot more to people if they didn’t think of Bono talking about his Dad. Amy: Hmmm. Right. Steve: You know, it could just be about, you know… about whatever you think. Amy: About whatever. Like something anyone could apply, yeah. Steve: Yeah, yeah. So, anyway… that was that. We’re now going to play a little more music which is a band that I had something to do with, that we all love. Uh, it’s a band called MGMT. Who, uh… Amy: Who I’ve been listening to a lot lately and I remember we were talking about that when we were talking about you producing the record. Steve: Yes. Amy: And I mentioned that I liked them a lot, and you were like, “Oh, well, I’m partially responsible for them.” Yeah… Steve: I know, I know. I was… I had a conference job, um, an A&R man at Columbian Records and this band came in and one girl I was working for said “Steve. We really want to sign them. Can you talk to this band and give them the schmooze and I listened to the music and I said “Yeah, we really need to sign this band.” Amy: Yeah… Steve: So, you know, we brought them in and had a long chat and actually I bumped into them the other day at a Phish concert funnily enough and uh, yeah, their a great band and their new album’s coming out. But this is ‘Electric Feel’ from their first album. Amy: Oh, cool… one of my favorites. (Music Break: MGMT – Electric Feel) Steve: Steve Lillywhite here on East Village Radio with, of course, the beautiful Amy Lee from Evanescence. Who’s actually on the phone with someone else, but there she goes… *laughs* Amy: Sorry, sorry… I was on the phone. Steve: She was on the phone! Amy: We just got a call from Kuwait. Steve: A call from Kuwait!? Oh, my goodness. Amy: Yes. From Muhammad, who was very nice. Steve: Muhammad from Kuwait. How are you doing, Muhammad? I’m going to play a song for you. Um… just to change it up and oh, make it different. (Music Break: ) Steve: Hello, Steve Lillywhite on East Village Radio! I was just telling Amy that I did stand at the exact place where Jesus was crucified and I started singing that song. How cool was that? That I didn’t get struck down by lightning. There you go! Enough of that… *laughs* Amy: There you go! Steve: Um, yes, what can I say… but here I am, East Village Radio, Steve Lillywhite with Amy Lee and we’re on our way to the studio. Amy: Good to be here. Steve: But not after… not until another twenty-four and a half minutes goes by. Whoa, there’s the phone. Amy: We’re getting a lot of calls. Steve: We’re getting a lot… this is, uh… Amy: My phone, guys, is kind of like not working now because there’s been too many tweets, so… ha-ha, it’s totally fried. Steve: There’s lots, uh, really? Amy: But I can’t really look at them for the next five minutes until they slow down a little bit. Steve: Right, um… we’re going to play another Amy Lee choice… which is? Amy: Oh, I chose… one of my very favorite songs from high school. It was sort of like my, one of my big anthems in high school is by Garbage, it’s called Stupid Girl. Steve: Ah… we love this. (Music Break: Garbage – Stupid Girl) Steve: Steve Lillywhite here on East Village radio and the phones are ringing off, awww, this is so much fun here! I’m here with Amy Lee and we’re having fun, so… everyone wants to know, Amy, there was a fire at the studio, lets talk about that. Amy: Yes, okay… well, I was in a different room. I was in the library and playing the piano, um, I think I was writing a little part and yeah. And then, Derek, our wonderful assistant, busted in the door and goes “There’s a fire in the building! We got to get out of here right now!” and I was like “Um, okay!” So, I… *laughs* Steve: Well, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you what happened because we were in the control room and the technical guy from the studio came in and said “Look guys, there is a fire in the studio.” So, um, of course, the first thing we did, which was really, what you’re not supposed to do was pack up our laptops. *laughs* Amy: Right, right. Well, it was more than that because everybody started packing up, okay, I didn’t. I bailed on everything because I smelled something right before and I thought “Hmmm, it smells kind of like a fire in the fireplace.” But it smelled kind of good to me at first? So, I didn’t think about it, we have a fire place at our place, so I was kind of used to it. Um, and then I ran out, and went “Oh, no.” Ran back in the room which is what you’re really not supposed to do and I got my laptop, and my phone, and my stuff and then ran out. And then I heard, or I remember, Will ran back half way through or whatever and got the hard drive. So, that if all else was lost we would have the album. *laughs* Steve: The hard drive, right. Well, yeah and, in fact, I, um, I was told that I shouldn’t use the elevator and go down the stairs. And I went down the stairs and walked through a lot of smoke. But, I was two minute ahead of you and this just shows how fast fire does travel. Because you tried to go down the stairs but you couldn’t. Amy: No, we couldn’t. Yeah, and we could not. That’s where it was coming from! Steve: Yeah, yeah, so they had… it was actually from another building that shared the same fire escape. Amy: Connected stairwell, and all that. Steve: And the same stairwell, but you know, the firemen came and who knows whether it could’ve spread but they did their job. Amy: They were great. Yeah. Steve: Because, uh, there was a lot of smoke, but… Amy: Well, I talked to the firemen after and I said “How often do you guys do this?” and he said “This is our second one today.” And it was only the middle of the day… I think it happens a lot in town, so. Steve: Right, it does. But you know, there you go! So that’s for everyone who wanted to know about the fire. Amy: So, we’re fine! Everything is fine from the fire… still smells a little smoky, but… we’re on track. *laughs* Steven: The album’s [fine]… *laughs* It does! *laughs* We are on track. I’m going to play a song now, that I recorded, back in the day with a band called, um, The Lars. (Music Break: The Lars) Steve Lillywhite: Steve Lillywhite, East Village Radio and uh, that was The Lars’ “Son of a Gun”, off the album “The Lars”, it was their only album. But in fact I did an interview last week for the box set, which is very strange, very strange. Ah, but anyway, I’m here with Amy Lee. …and how are we doing? Amy Lee: I just picked a song, last minute, so… he’s plugged it in for any second. Well, you can talk if you want. Talking’s cool. Steve: [she picked a song, alright] Well, we’ll talk, we have fifteen minutes to go, uh, the weather here in New York’s a little bit gloomy. But, uh… Amy: *laughs* I like it that way. That’s the most inspiring to me definitely. Steve: Yes, yes, Amy… my sensible (?) opinion. Amy: *laughs* What’s that supposed to mean!? Steve: *laughs* Oh! I don’t know! Amy: Well, it’s like you’re supposed to be inside and it’s raining or whatever and… Steve: Well, yeah, the great thing when you’re making an album, is that you don’t want to be tempted by “Oh, the weather’s nice. I wanna go outside.” You wanna go “Oh I wanna go in and” which is… yeah! Amy: *laughs* Yeah… and just hunker-down in the cave and get creative and read. Steve: Which is why I always thought the best music came from, um, from places that were not great weather. Amy: Right. Steve: You know, because… Amy: Oh, right. Like Seattle! Steve: Yeah, like Seattle, or London, or Manchester. Amy: Yeah, mhmmm Steve: You know, although L.A., you know, all that sort of… although I have to say I love the Beach Boys as well, you know… Amy: Hah… totally. Steve: Um… what can I say? So, Amy, would you like to introduce this next song? Amy: I just picked a song off my iPod. It is Tear Drop by Massive Attack. It’s probably… it, it is my favorite song of theirs. Steve: Fantastic. Here we go! (Music Break: Massive Attack – Tear Drop) Amy: Hah, somebody said that? Steve: Someone just tweeted: let’s, we don’t want to hear songs, let’s just… Amy: Talk Amy, nobody wants to hear your song. Steve: Aww, well, you know, if you wanna hear… I mean, that’s why we didn’t play any old Evanescence because basically if you’re listening to this… Amy: You’ve heard it. Steve: You can listen to it whenever you want. Amy: Sure. Steve: So… Amy, we talked about the fire, we talked about lyrics, um, what about touring? Amy: What, what are you saying? Oh, they’re asking… Steve: Ah! The stomping! Well, that’s about me, that’s nothing to do… Steve’s stomping… Amy: No, it was pretty funny! Well, that’s us in the studio. I mean, I wonder if they know what we were doing. Steve: We were doing some, some stomping, uh… Amy: A stomp track. Steve: A stomp track. Amy: To, like, effect and filter and make into a really cool, like, beat. Steve: Right. And I was stomping, we had to stomp on the beat. Now, I realized… Amy: *laughs* Steve: As I was, see these are all these thoughts that are all gonna happen within a split second, but as I was jumping up I realized I’m a little ahead of the beat… so I need to hold, I need to slow… Amy: I need to defy gravity and stay in the air longer and that doesn’t work. *laughs* Steve: Exactly! That’s what I was trying to do! And all these split second decisions happened in my mind that actually ended up me, falling over, and uh… Amy: It was priceless. Steve: I did say we should send that off to America’s Funniest Videos and we could earn $250. Amy: Well, I was saying, they should have a show called um, America’s, well, not America’s, just like Funniest Celebrity Videos type show… [it'd be pretty lame]. But no one would ever approve of anything. Steve: No, exactly. But, I want everyone to see me falling over. Amy: Yeah, it’s pretty good. Steve: That was awful. Amy: I, I plan on tweeting more videos from the studio soon. Steve: Yes, there will be more videos! Amy has been doing a fantastic job with her Flip camera… Amy: Oh yeah, I have! I’ve been documenting pretty well. Steve: Yeah! So… have you worked out how to edit them and that? Amy: Sort of. It just takes a long time… I have to, like, take it from that camerea and put it into the program. Anyway, it’s boring… Steve: Into another program. Okay… so that’s good! So, um… just hearing that last song, I thought I’d play this one. (Music Break) Steve: It’s Steve Lillywhite here, on the Lillywhite sessions, with the special guest, Amy Lee and we’re coming to the end of this part of my career… and your career! And the next part of our careers will start about in a half an hour. Amy: *laughs* Do you…? Yup, it’s been an honor, a pleasure, thank you for having me on the show. Steve: Awww…. well, hang on! Amy: It doesn’t have to end here! Steve: Let’s not be too soon cause we have another minute and ten seconds to go! Amy: Oh! Okay! Steve: So, uh, where are you going now, Amy? Amy: Well, I think… I’m just gonna get in the cab with you and we’re gonna go to the studio *laughs* and make some more awesome sounding songs Steve: Oh, right! We’re going to go to the studio… *laughs* Yeah! We’re going to start singing. Do you have any ideas on how you would like to start? Amy: I think I want to start on ‘You Got A Lot to Learn’. Steve: Right, so you’ve just given away a song title. *laughs* Amy: Right. Right, I guess. That’s cool! I was prepared for it when I, when it came out of my mouth. Steve: *laughs* Yeah, so there’s a song called ‘You Got A Lot to Learn’ on the album. Amy: Yes. Steve: Excellent. Amy: Special drums by Quest Love. Steve: Oh! I’m excited to hear that! Amy: *laughs* Steve: Now, it sounds fantastic, as I know cause… I… record it. *laughs* Amy: Sounds really cool so far. Steve: So, it’s really good and, um, that should be a nice, nice one to get started. Amy: I think that’s, I think that’s the vibe of the day. I think that’s what I’m feeling. Steve: That’s the vibe of the day! So, again, thank you very much… it was a pleasure to have you on the show and for the last 23 seconds…? Amy: Ahaha! and 20… 19…okay! Steve: Oh, got it! Limping across the finish line here. *laughs* Amy: Thank you, everybody for calling in and twittering me. Everybody’s been so sweet and… Steve: Yeah! And there will be lots of, uh, juicy updates! Amy: Definitely, definitely. Steve: Of the video and any sort of kind, so, uh, keep listening and thank you so much. Amy: Stay tuned! *laughs* Steve: I’ll be back next week, okay. Amy: Okay. Steve: Bye… bye! 3… 2… 1…! Amy: *laughs*

Listen part 1 and part 2.

#Evanescence #Amy Lee #Steve Lillywhite #Interview

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steve0discusses · 7 years ago

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Yugioh S1 Ep 43: Mokuba Simply Has No Survival Instincts

While it surely wasn’t intentional, since the 00′s hadn’t finished their course at the time this show aired, the storyline of Kaiba, the moodiest millennial of them all, the boy who works his ass off, wins every award, studies hard, and then fails at every aspect of his life when he actually goes out to try and get his career on track is just so very millennial. It’s a pretty familiar story--trained to be a shark in a small swimming pool, dreams as big and high as the moon, but occasionally completely disconnected with what’s going on around us because we’re trapped in some MMO videogame. Again.

We’ve already had quite a few episodes that dove into Yugi’s psyche, including one where we literally walked through his labyrinth brain full of traps and real legit problems as he said “nonono this is all really just fine.” But, this is an arc that’s all about Kaiba, who is about to be devoured by the same insane pipe dream ideas he worked so hard to create.

Mai and Joey suddenly realize who the other is and then just decide “youknow lets not duel” and I praised the sun because how pointless would that have been?

The Mokuba orange text is very close to the Joey yellow. Sorry if any of you are colorblind, I never realized that Mokuba would have so many speaking lines when I started this. Maybe I’ll make him a light blue at some point?

I know I titled it as Mokuba has no survival instincts but honestly it’s every single person on this show.

(read more)

I only say I’m too afraid to check the skyrim mod forums because most those mods are a little too kinky for me.

Like...

Why didn’t Bakura use THAT card back on the island? Holy cow. It’s a good thing Joey isn’t cursed with the ring because everyone would be very super dead.

So they trot along across the desert and not much happens. I guess a sand worm or something? It’s just a desert.

And like do I even need to make the obvious joke or is it already--

No, not yet.

Anyways, what’s at the other end of the desert, hm?

We are SO CLOSE to finishing this season how is there ANOTHER MAZE!? There’s only like 6 episodes left we could have been maze free I just...whoever was in charge of maze design for this show worked overtime.

God bless, storyboarder. This is a frame I caught completely by accident--most people would not be able to notice that Joey just takes two hands--one on Yugi’s head, the other on his chest and just pushes him completely over like he’s one of those roly-poly toys.

The hell Mai? She is the age to date Joey’s Dad.

This labyrinth is different than Yugi’s, in that it is crowded by a bunch of huge inconvenient tanks that all want to kill them for some reason. I have no idea how any of these tanks ever turn a corner.

Mazes seem to be the most boodthirsty thing in this universe--can’t pass through a maze without every law of physics/tanks wanting to murder the hell out of you

Imagine the David Attenborough documentary on this family of wild tanks.

And then this weird thing happened--as if we weren’t already seeing the weirdest collection of things that Kaiba chose to focus on in this magical world where he could have made anything else happen.

It’s Marie Antoinette Mokuba. She’s just here. To exist.

Speaking of bad ideas, Kaiba is getting crucified.

Every anime ever made just acting out the Passion for kicks and giggles, it ain’t even Easter yet.

So quick side story about bad ideas and stuff, because sometimes we spend YEARS of our lives trying to make something that is not very good work and it just doesn’t--it just doesn’t happen. I work in freelance so I see that a lot. I see it happen to other people, I’ve seen it happen PLENTY to myself.

I knew this guy, I’ve known him my whole life (and he’s way super old so he won’t read this blog) and for the entirety that I’ve been alive he’s been trying to make an operating system to compete with Windows. Now I’m from the Bay Area, so this isn’t SO weird. There’s this whole crazy world outside of Linux where everyone and their mule is making an OS that will change the Silicon Valley landscape and make them the next Bill Gates. It’s kind of like “here’s my neat app idea” but like 2 steps more ascended.

For about 40 years, this guy has *and still is* making this OS. 40 years. But his OS is now like 40 years behind the times because he never released it in any form because it wasn’t done yet, it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t ready.

One of the most important things I’ve ever learned is that whatever you may be working on right now will not be your Magnum Opus. It just won’t. So finish whatever you’re on and move on to the next thing. When I was told this, I was working on my first comic and although I wasn’t really aware--it was hella not great. But, it was a story I grew up writing, so I was hella attached to it. So, it could never be perfect. It mattered so much to me to get it right, and I was so worried about what other people would think, that I worked on it for about 4 years before I ran into the OS guy and I realized “I need to just post this and move on or this will be my endless OS”

Like, this is all a silly story of climbing through Kaiba’s bad fiction, but sometimes our simple ideas can turn into parasites, and we become so obsessed with them, that our good efforts are robbed of ever getting a chance to finish something good. Like this is Kaiba’s one big huge sprawling terrible video game idea and all of his friends and his brother are here to basically give him an intervention. Also to save him from the guys who are still heading Kaiba corp for some reason.

Anyways, now these guys are in a generic carriage because they got to the Camelot section of Kaiba’s cyberworld because this boy could not focus on one single genre.

Whatever because inside this castle is DINNER

The vague orange oblong fruit is back! The gravity melons! We still aren’t sure what they are--because they could be mangoes but they’re orange like oranges. huh...

Anyways, it’s about time for this show to get dark.

So this is a game mechanic of playing the card game Yugioh--so like...it actually does make sense why it’s here but like. This is just medieval The Lottery, huh? Is Kaiba getting ritually sacrificed by his own video game? Ritually sacrificed WHILE getting crucified? For a DRAGON? It’s like right in front of him that his Dragon Obsession has maybe gone too far but I assume that once this is over he’ll be right back on ship dragon.

I just like to think that, for the past few years, Kaiba’s just been drawing birds and medieval stuff in class and being all “it’s going in my sweet ass video game, Joey, it’s not a princess, it’s Princess Atena, and she’s gonna get sacrificed to satisfy the Mythic Dragon” but none of his classmates ever remembered any of this lore because their brains kept getting wiped by some Season Zero Pharaoh nonsense.

This color scheme on the walls is just...that’s lime green and lilac all right.

Anyway, how generic 90′s fantasy anime can we make the armor here?

None of them use swords.

Scratch that--Pharaoh would know how to use a sword. For the rest of them the weapon seems kind of moot because they’re all card wizards?

So off they go, Joey in a minidress made for...breastfeeding? I guess? And the rest in matching armor suits. Seems like Kaiba’s game is programmed to recognize and harass Joey just as part of it’s core code.

OH.

So there was a lot of buildup to that happening and I blinked and missed it and had to rewind, it happened so quickly.

Man if they had just stayed indoors none of this would have happened.

So Mokuba is in a 7 layer ballgown for the rest of this show right? I feel like the hoop skirt would make it very difficult to get crucified in. So, at least he has that.

As they bring this ancient bird to life with the time card, we get to see what Tristan and Tea have been up to--mostly just pushing stuff.

So when Tea does ballet she’s on the bottom just tossing everyone else around, right? That girl is jacked.

So, that was a lot of random things in succession--Next week, on Yugioh:

Does Kaiba turn into a dragon, finally, like he’s always wanted? Will the next environment in this randomized video game land them right in the middle of a Fallout Post-Apocalypse? Or will it be in the middle of a Petz kitten-adoption center? Or, will it be the ultimate challenge for these kids--in a Japanese High School visual novel sim where they actually have to attend class?

#Yugioh #yugioh recaps #photo recaps #s1 ep 43 #humor #they're still in this video game I guess #seto kaiba #mokuba #yugi muto #joey wheeler #tea gardner #tristan taylor #mai #this arc is hella random

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briteboy · 7 years ago

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okay i’m gonna be real with you. i have...a LOT...of messages. going as far back as like...january? probably? i know...i’m so bad...don’t crucify me. i tried to get through all of them but there were a lot that i didn’t have a worthwhile reply for so i’m sorry if i didn’t answer something you sent :{

so here we have: a lot of nice things, a lot of santisms, reactions to the lou and cillian punchout, a few responses to my portfolio and other stuffs...i wanted to put astrology asks in at the end but it’s...a lot more than i thought it was and it’s 3 am so i’d rather die than answer all of those LMAO sorry. i’ll get to it next time

Anonymous said:

u can delete the snorting cum asks but it will still follow you for eternity

okay so I saw the ask about snorting cum and it reminded me of a time that cum came out of my nose. It was gross but my boyfriend and I laughed it off. idk. I thought it would be a funny thing to share!! i'd understand if you didn't want this on your blog!! (maybe it makes you laugh!!)

wELL. WE’RE OFF TO A GOOD START HERE. i’m screaming at this...i hope nothing EVER comes out of my nose ever in life...i hate this but ur right it did make me laugh

(Winry anon again) Also, did you get her name from FMA Winry Rockbell because if so I love it

hehe...yes...

hornybodies

this is what bartsim calls me and i hate her for it

whats the truth bitch

I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER WHAT THIS IS ABOUT BUT I’M LAUGHIGN

i never realised how much i actually missed santi but now im CRYING AND I WANT HIM BACK IN EVERY SINGLE POST WITH LOU BY HIS SIDE LIVING HAPPILY EVER AFTER PLEASE

I missed santirat's beautiful face there are literal tears rn

me too...i hate that i miss him so much it’s so freaking dumb...i haven’t cried to my own story in a while but i bet i’m gonna once santi’s comeback rolls around. i’m already bracing myself

nvm u can have the lovely rat back, that way my heart wouldn’t be hurting like it is now

honestly yeah that’s fair

Been silently following your blog and though I'm more of a "ghost"(? What does that even mean¿) follower, I can't help but express just how chocked I am to see Santi again OMG. Gutted Lou has had a flashback, she does not deserve this. :'(

hello casper the friendly ghost...i love having santi pop up with surprise flashbacks hehe...ur right though she DOES NOT NEED THIS in her life, but it will get better for her soon do not fret my ghoulish friend

I need more pics of Lou and Santi together I’m not satisfied, thankssss

ELI AND MIYU GETTING SO EXCIted WHEN LOU TOLD THEM SHE LIKES GIRLS MY HEART :’)

HEHEH i love it cause that’s literally how my friends and i act, it was fun to write in a scene :~} i’m glad you liked it :’}}

Yeah when I cut my hair short everyone assumed I liked girls I found it kind of odd, but I didn't care too much. It mostly just made me end up realizing all the shit lgbt people go through, one time a guy literally went up to me and my friend, my bff who no one really knew was a lesbian was terrified because he said "oh dont worry lesbians are hot, but gay guys are just disgusting" it ended up he was talking to me, i just rolled up a piece of paper as tight as I could and smacked him on the head

EWW first of all that guy can take his weird fetishization and homophobia elsewhere thanks...i’m glad you threw a paper ball at him LMAO. but yeah on one hand, coming from ignorant/straight people it’s like “uhhhh why would you assume that about me”, within the lgbt community it’s like...common ground...an inside joke...i guess? so it’s weird. the link between hair, clothes and sexuality is can definitely be harmful in certain circumstances

fiona is my spirit animal and i love her ok thanks for coming to my TED Talk

that was illuminating thank you

i re-read santis story and i s2g i've read it so many times idk, but like its so easy to read i dont mean like emotionally but it flows really well. and like its not too confusing i hate when people make overly convoluted stories in an excuse for being deep its some good shit good job my dude

AKJSDKGKSJD THAT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i never expected anyone to read it oNCE let alone REPEATEDLY...that really makes me so happy though because it’s definitely something you have to go back and read to catch all the details. ahhhhh thank you so much, i never ever want my story to be too complicated so i’m glad you don’t think it is!!

im crying because your recent post reminds me so much of my relationship with my mom when i was younger... she was always out of a job and sometimes we had to resort to living with other family members, it was all really hard on her and especially with having a kid she had to take care of at the same time. even though these are fictional characters, it’s comforting to know that other people have gone through the same situations i have. i love fiona and lou so much, they’re my heart and soul <3

OMG ;_________; i’m crying i’m so glad it resonates with you...i had a lot of friends growing up who were in similar situations and i think i kinda based lou and fi’s relationship on that, so you’re definitely not alone <33 i’m so glad you love them i love u

basically what I’ve learned from these asks is that Gianni is a perfect god-like human and I want one

he is. one time an anon told me they were like santi but they wanted to be rooney and i was like “i’m both santi and rooney on different days and i want to be gianni.” now u know why

hi, i just wanted to pop in and say that i really, really love your blog and i admire your editing skills SO much, i think you are EXTREMELY talented and i don't think you get told that enough. i've been following you for awhile now and i am in love with ALL of your stories, characters and edits you've put out! you're really an inspiration to me and i hope someday my edits can turn out as good as yours!! i don't have reshade so it's harder for me, but i'm trying to learn!! ok have a good day :-)

OMFG ;-; I DO GET TOLD IT A LOT AND IT STILL SEEMS FAKE...you don’t have to go out of your way to compliment me ;___; but thank you so so so much i’m crying...it makes me so giddy that i might inspire someone like WHAT...i don’t even know what i’m doing half the time i edit so u will definitely be able to catch up to me one day even if you don’t have reshade, i know it. i edited without reshade for like 2 and a half years on this blog so you can do it i promise!! have a good day/night/life i love u

fuck my succ

I'm in need of some giannti in my life

we all need some gianti in our lives

Hey! I just wanted to say that ur an amazing writer. You portray everything so well, it’s insane. I want to be a writer someday and I hope my writing is at least somewhat close to yours. Have an awesome day my dude💕

WOW I’M CRYING...i still have a lot of room to grow and so do you, i hope you are able to become the writer you want to be :’} and thank you so much for the wonderful compliment i’m emo have a great day as well

aver is my queen, confirmed.

avey is everyone’s queen confirmed

oksy but listen, look up the model Charlotte Ray Spencer

i did but i couldn’t find her?? all that came up was ray spencer obituaries in charlotte, SC LMFAO...charlotte spencer is an actress tho it seems, is that...who...? omfg

MAY I JUST OFFER THIS NEW SONG OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD CALLED VOID BC I HAVE A FEELING SANTI WOULD LOVE IT (it's also meant for my aggressive sadboi oc)

OH I LOVE THIS IT FITS PERFECTLY WITH THE PLAYLIST I’M MAKING FOR THE NEW ERA OF SANTI...THANK YOU I’M TOTALLY ADDING IT

I had a ectopic pregnancy when I was seventeen but I feel like I got off lightly compared to Molly. Your story is so beautiful in so many ways, I think it’s incredible how much character development you’ve managed to pull off honestly I’m amazed. Thank you ❤️

omg ;_______; i don’t even know what to say to this, but it means so much to me i can’t even put it into words. thank you thank you thank you so much, and i’m so sorry you had to go through that as well. molly was an extreme case and i hope no one has to go through what she went through. i’m glad you’re okay now, and thank you so much for reaching out to me and reading my story at all ;-; <3333

just a heads up: the links button on your ccfinds blog goes to the femmefinds url still

oh yeah i know i’m gonna be real with you...i’m too lazy to fix it lmAO

Luv your stick n poke tats u posted!!! Could u do more? Maybe on diff places on the bod?? Ur so talented. Xx

omg that was FOREVER ago...maaaaaybe in the future...we shall see...but thank you <33

Can u do a family portrait for all ur characters like u did w Lou!!!

oooooh hehe i probably will in the future!!

Kill v maim is one of my favorite songs of all time omg it makes me wanna wear ripped jeans and a leather jacket and cover myself in glitter and smash some windows with a baseball bat MMMMMM

HELL yeah me too...i become a cyber punk alien vampire when i hear that song

maybe do a casting call posted here ? u have many followers and im sure a good chunk live in ur area and would be willing to model ^_^

omg SCARY...i probably could tho tbh that’s a good idea, thank you!

hi sunny, what program do you use to merge your cc and what do you use to detect and remove broken cc that just doesn't work in game anymore? thanks!

i actually haven’t merged on my new laptop yet but i used s4s for merging and there’s the mod conflict detector!!

My game hasn't been working since the first Cats and Dogs patch but I uninstalled and reinstalled and it finally works again 😭

sunny!! would you recommend your computer to play ts4 on? has it good graphics, can handle the highest settings and so? i really need a new computer but i have no idea which one to go for

yes i would recommend it!! i have reshade, ultra settings and like 8 gb of cc.

thanks for answering my ask eee ur story is probably the best ive read on here and yeah. i love how everything connects and everyones just so real. you dont have to post this i just wanted to thank you for being my inspiration and making me smile, laugh, cry, and scream in the middle of the night with your characters.

I LOVE U...it still sounds so fake to me when people say i inspire them, i don’t even know how to respond to all this ;-; just thank you for sparing a glance my way and resonating with my creations. <3 we scream and cry 2gether

I listened to Separator by Radiohead on repeat whilst reading Santi’s story and now that song just reminds me of him and Lou. I’d totally suggest listening to it’s so good! As is your story :3 xxx

oh radiohead that’s good sh*t...i’m listening to it now and i feel the santou vibes...especially when santi’s feeling out of his mind and she’s the only one who can calm him...haha cool..anyways THANK YOU!!!!

how do you make poses for the roof? i'm not sure how i can know if the sims will clip into the roof or float

honestly i just...eyeball it...because all roofs are different and you can’t put them into blender so. i just winged it lmao...i just made a pose that looked like it could’ve been lou climbing out the window, only the rig was still ground level, and then i used alt + 9 to lift the teleporter onto the roof as best as i could. that’s why it probably wouldn’t be a very practical pose to release, because i have no way of making it easy to use

Lou punched him and I knew it would happen. 😀👌 nice, nice I like Lou whopping ass.

hehe i’m glad you enjoyed it...who knew she had a freaking hook like that

ok a theory... santi went to look for molly's mother and yea

omg tell me cillian sings every other freckle at some point

OMFG well...that song came out in 2013 and the current flashback year is 2008 so. i would personally murder cillian myself if he was still in lou’s life 5 years after this honestly

hey kitty girl! i was wondering if you could answer this teensy lil question i got. im writing a "story" anddd i was trying to figure out how to make some parts not cliche. like i hate reading about whatever and being like girll ive done seen this before so i just needs to know. kisses

i absolutely love how this is worded and the fact that u called me kitty, very cute. anyway...this is pretty broad, perhaps you could clarify what kinda cliches you want to steer clear from? a lot of the time when i know something is gonna be cliche and there’s no avoiding it, i just kinda own up to it and try to subtly point out how cliche it is and somehow that makes it work out better...like being self aware somehow adds another more realistic element to the story that makes it better? idk...anyway dm me if you need help!!

so.... lou can remember more of what happened? this is good! go 2 the police bitch! tell them!!!!!!!

she should!! but the only problem is she doesn’t have proof. so... 🤔

how do you write your stories in a way that everything is organized and you're certain and not confused with everything? i mean, do you have any way for writing that let you develop your stories with not so much difficults? i'm trying to write an story for months but i only have a few of the most important events on my mind, i don't know how to develop another important details, i always feel that everything is confuse or crap

hmmmmm well my mind is very ah convoluted so it’s a wonder any of this comes out even somewhat cohesive? but basically i have a very good memory and utilize google docs a lot hahaha. i’ve gone in depth about my writing process here!

whats a good way when it comes to starting a sims story? i mean like the first post? :/

ummmmmm maybe test the waters a bit and just make a post introducing your character(s) first? or dive right in and get sh*t started. it could go either way tbh

boyish by japanese breakfast is a santixlou bop

oh sh*t!!!!!! i love japanese breakfast!! and i love this thank you!

So is lou like into cillian in a way? Making him kinda be in her type

as of right now (in the flashbacks)? HELL fucking no. but you’re right, she did say those things in the future to santi. so 🤔

Everyone guessing shit stupidly annoys me haha. I'M UNOBSERVANT AND I DON'T WANNA GO BACK AND CHECK SHIT, LET ME LIVE. *Like* if you a ~dum~ reader who doesn't want every bit of foreshadowing called out. lol

i respect this honestly whenever i drop the hottest foreshadowing of 2018 i never expect my inbox to flood like it does but here we are and i am amazed

CILLIAN NEEDS TO FUCKING FIGHT ME (TYPING THIS ON MY COMPUTER BC I SAW HIS DINOSAUR ASS AND CHUCKED MY PHONE OUT THE WINDOW)

i’m screaming...i’m so sorry it’s my fault about your phone but like also i’m poor i can’t pay for that

i'm studying your latest posts because they're beautiful and my hatred for that long necked bitch is intensifying -- what makes me burn even more is that he's still wearing her necklace, can we say let the bitch burn?

burn babey burn

Why don't you use quick tags?

i’m dumb is why

CILLIAN IS SUCH A SHITASS I HATE HIS FACE WHY R U DOING THIS TO ME

BRUHHHHH THE DINOSAUR LOOKIN ASS BOY IS B A C K run

WAIT THE NECKLACE. HE STOLE THE MCFUCKING NECKLACE BROOOOO

What if Fi's blue eyes are from... Cillian..?

wHY did you have to make him cute and fucking cool though? I still hate him but it's harder.

NVM I JUST LOOKED AT THE POST AGAIN HES WEARING HER NECKLACE INHOPE SHE CHOKES HIMS WOTH IT THIS TIME

I SCREAMED AT THIS SERIES OF QUESTIONS OISDFNGJKDSKJN yeah sorry he’s conventionally attractive but unsettlingly so and i feel uneasy when i look at him and plus the fact that he’s literally evil so .

im like, to 90% sure that cillian is in ace joker. so that song might have reminded lou of him...

this was sent right after that scene of lou hearing the song at pippin’s, so

My conspiracy theory is that cillian is Lou's father. Speakimg of which are we gonna get to that soon, I'm dying of curiosity;.;

I’M LAUGHING I THINK U MEANT FIONA’S FATHER AKSJDKJGDSJ but yeah well. You’ll See

what do u resize ur photos to?

whatever 33% of 1920x1080 is i forget. i have a resizing + sharpening action so i just run that

im about to kill those kids if they keep fucking with my baby

THESE BITCHES BULLYING MY BABY LOU? CATCH THESE HANDS

me @ these ugly kids:

Who are the best creators for mens clothing? I struggle so much to find good cc creators with men specifically!

badabing badaboom

I’m not sure if you’ve converted things before but do you know any good sims 3 cc to sims 4 tutorials? Or your followers?

errrrrr i have no idea i’m sorry :x

would you consider making like a photoshop psd file with all the layers in your editing process?

omg...heck no it would be so unhelpful OMFG mostly because my editing is just my own action + shading and highlighting unique to that pic

would you ever do an editing timlapse of your gameplay pics? 💖💖

ahhhhh maybe!! probably in the future!

OMG HEATHERS WAS FILMED AT MY HIGH SCHOOL AND IM JUST HYPED UP SEEING IT BEING MENTIONED ON THIS ACCOUNT!!

OMFG THAT’S RAD...i’ve literally only seen it once tho i’m fake

I'M SHOOK. my friend kinda asked me out and I wanna say yes but my parents won't let me date. I'm 18! I need your advice! -signed 18 and alone anon

um UR 18 BUDDY UR AN ADULT...DATE WHOEVER THE F*CK U WANT HONESTLY

Can you pretty please link some photoshop tutorials you recommend? I really want to make my photos more cinematic and like your's without totally copying you or someone else. All I do right now is sharpen, color balance, and add some noise and then resize. I really need some more ways to get better looking photos such as yours.

ahhhhh the problem is i don’t know of any i’m sorry...lmao this is totally unhelpful :\ i have my own editing tutorial which is outdated but can probably help you out with the basics of lighting effects and shading n stuff?

Heyyy, I saw that you answered a question about making a ps action like your reshade, and I just wanted to say that I would love that! Unfortunately Mac users like me, can’t use reshade unless boot camping Windows onto our computers...☹️ and your reshade is just soooo pretty...

i don’t know if i’ll be able to replicate the reshade effect totally but i could release the action i’ve made for myself? it warms up screenshots but is totally adjustable to your liking for different color tones so in that way it’s kinda similar to the reshade. i’ll seeeeee what i can do...i know the woes of mac users all too well, my friend

i just wanna give lou a big ol cozy hug :o((( pls

pls hug her she needs it.

Do you post on tumblr from your phome or from your computer? Just curious.

mostly from my computer, sometimes i answer messages on my phone while i’m out and you can tell because autocorrect actually makes me use proper capitalization for once in my life

how many hours have you played the sims? for me i have 4,070 hours. haha help

OMFG i think mine is like...900 or something...i can’t tell if that’s too much or too little, but it’s definitely inaccurate

if i could only look at one person's tumblr from now on it would be yours. ur literally the queen of tumblr #shookaf and also i really hope i die before you ever say ur leaving tumblr cause when u do, i will legit die and bury my own grave. i really appreciate u and hope one day i can be on ur level but rn im at level 1.5 while ur up in the millions :D

I’M SCREAMING PLEASE I AM A PLEB.............i cry u flatter me too much ;-; i genuinely hope i never leave this place because it’s been so fun and it’s helped me evolve so much as an artist and a writer, plus i made some of my greatest friends on here. so i hope that day never comes!! but who knows life is wild. anyway i’m sure you’re actually like at level 578 and are just being modest. it’s okay you don’t have to be humble

i think its so cool that you and wanderlust and other simmers use multiple worlds to make your own town and stuff. idk why but thats just so cool to me and i would have never thought of it. love your blog and story <3

omg!!! well i couldn’t resist, i love a bunch of them and can’t limit myself to just one ya know. plus the more i thought about it, the more my gen 2 story kinda centers around these kids from this one town and the town itself is very relevant. so i felt like i had to make my own!! and i’m very excited to get started with that hehe

I just met a guy named Rodrigo Santiago and I sCREAMED HOLY SHIT

Update (tho idk of you got the first one): I just got a text from a classmate named Rodrigo Santiago. I'm sCREECHING

no freaking way. there’s no way i don’t believe...i want proof...

YOU SO FUCKIN PRECIOUS WHEN U SMILE

dont worry about posting this or do idc but i just wanted to say you should write about whatever you want and not care about whether people think you condone it or not. if i (a gay male) were to write about lesbians its not like im saying YOU HAVE TO BE LESBIANS BLAH BLAH BLAH you know what i mean? or if im writing about a robbery doesnt mean im like condoning robbery so like idk you do you boo and keep it coming ;D ilysm btw

OMFG no yeah i get it, i mean i think now especially in this online environment, people are hyper aware of Problematique things and so they’re a little too quick to point fingers without looking deeper than the surface. and whatever it’s fine people are always gonna be like that because people are mostly inherently judgmental, especially when it comes to consuming media. artists/writers face stuff like this all the time because people refuse to look past the surface, hence why works have gotten misconstrued all the time. but yeah i really appreciate this sentiment, thank u i love u

hope this isnt a weird question but what is the image size that u used for your character page?? thnk u 💕

omg it’s 300x300

have u listened to visions of gideon by sufjan stevens i was listening to it while reading ur stories and it made me so :(

oh my boy sufjan aka gianni’s personality claim i love him...and this song is :{ but i love even if it’s from the nasty age gap peach fucking movie

If i was married to Jamie and he treatin’ our daughter like that… oh I swear HES GOT TO GO!

it’s 2 am i’m so tired answering all of these i forgot who jaime was for a sec i was like um why are we talking about GoT anyways good night

how does alpha hair work with reshade? it seems so good in your screenshots and i’ve seen that in others screenshots it looks bad? whats the secret?

well good morning haha jk i never went to sleep anyway here u go

hooow do you make adorable toddlers in ts4?? teach me, gimme some advice please :(((

chubby cheeks! big eyes! small faces! little but plump lips! a good skin! dats all

how did u get ur sim onto the fire escapes?

ze teleporter mod, that’s it

I snickered at the, THE RETURN OF SANTI. Like I imagine it written in red horror lettering and santi just busts down the door and says ho ho ho im back bench, Did U miss me?

honestly i own a calendar and if i knew a definite date u already fucking kNOW it would be up there

ahhh im sorry for asking but im wondering how you find voice claims?? i'm looking for some for my sims, but it's tough to find one that's *right*, you know?? and your voice claims are great!! thank you <3

OMG voice claims are HARD, i literally just like “collect” them over time...i have a list in my phone of voices i like/may use in the future lmao, but try to think of actors or musicians and search interviews/movie or tv scenes with them speaking!!

i don't even read your story but i still follow you because i love your personality, sim style and just your whole entire tumblr

u follow me for ME? UM...what are u doing here...i’m so sorry (i love u...)

do you have a different reshade preset for flashback screenshots and for the present ones?

i do not!! i just edit differently

what happened to the honeycomb?

OMFG it’s still there...but we legit haven’t seen it since girooni’s wedding so um...it’s gonna have to get a makeover. i’m gonna do it when girooni come back home so i can finally show rupi working there like...wow...she deserves to be seen

lou's dad is the biggest asshole and i am waiting for the day that bitch dies

us when he dies

shit theory: caroline goes to find and confront cillian about what he did in teen lou timeline. care ends up forming a crush on cillian and goes back to meet him several more times, but cillian ends up liking lou more which makes caroline jealous. and that's why they don't speak currently, 'cause cillian ruined lou's life in more ways than one.

uM holy fuck that’s all i got to say

pls tell me that Caro killed the dude that choked Lou (or beat his ass)

god i hope so !

how many people do you follow? are you “strict” with who you follow?

i follow 264 people and yeah i’ve gotten a bit stricter with it just cause like...i only want to follow people whose content i truly care about/will actually notice on my dash

would you ever do a sim dump?

probably in the future, it seems like people want more male and female sims from me SO

ramona got some moves tf

the girl is out here bobbing to the chicken dance like nobody’s business

have u seen the end of the fucking world? if u did what are your #thots

UM......................i watched the first episode ‘cause i heard so much about it and um.............................it was so bad OMFG i hated it. way too edgy for me. completely missed the mark. not into it at all. hard pass

CAN LOU PLEASE HAVE A MAN IN HER LIFE WHO IS NOT A COMPLETE TWAT PLEASE

HOPEFULLY ezra will follow through with that and i don’t necessarily mean in a romantic way but like...as her new roommate MAYBE he will be a blessing we can HOPE

I'm not sure if you've been asked this or not, but your poses are so good and I was wondering if you have ever considered making a pose pack? Sorry if this came off as rude! I love your posts!

i will probably in the future!! but first i gotta figure out which ones i’d actually include

okay so this is random but I just wanted to say that I absolutely love your sims stories. Everything is so perfect and I'm forever shook because I can't believe the "sets" you use are actually the game. Your sims are so fleshed out and you are a huge inspiration to me. Anyways sorry if this was weird but I'm like obsessed with ur blog. bYe

AJHSDHJFSD THANK YOU!!!!!!! yes somehow we work miracles into this game can u believe it...ahh but thank you so much, it means everything that i would inspire you in any way...like what...omg

Santi is actually standing outside present Lou’s apartment wondering where the fuck he went wrong

he’s been there for 6 months just on the street standing there please someone let him in .

LOUUUU OH MY GODDD SKKDSNSJDH MY BABY. SO THATS HOW SHE GOT THE SCAR. WOW

there it is fellas. this message is sooooo old i’m so bad

Have you read/heard of The Lunar Chronicles

i have not!! but i’ll jot it down!

I was wondering if you’ve ever had any problems with skins? For me some on the palm side of the hand it’s noticeably darker than what the skin is supposed to be.. like the rest comes out find but the hands are darker.

hmm...that’s weird, i haven’t seen that. i think it probably depends on the skin? or maybe your sim detail settings?

santi my daddy, honeybodies my mommy, lou looking like a cutie when she saw dat tiny puppy. my name is rappin anon, and i just wanted to say, ur are my favorite simblr basically saving my day. rappin anon OUT

o...my god

i love u

i love u...

#nonsims #saviorhide #sunny answers #where is the anon that loves these...i always think of you when i make these...enjoy

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