#i know he's been caught swearing on camera before but seeing him use 'bullshitting' in conversation is so. keysmash. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

garbagevanfleet · 4 years ago

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

PART TEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS 18+ ONLY! sexual content (finally), pot use, alcohol use Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: Okay, guys. If you missed it, this chapter is NSFW. This was the best to write, seriously. Love you all, don't be afraid to tell me what you think of it!

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @lara-gvf @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack

MASTERPOST

Two weeks before the Saturday of the play, the forecast had called for a blizzard. “Polar vortex” they had called it on the tv at school, flashing graphics of a polar bear wearing a scarf.

After classes on Friday, you had asked Kate if she wanted to go for coffee. You had been working like a dog on the play - sewing and painting to the point where your fingers perpetually hurt and the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes was the shade of green that every foliage prop was painted.

You ordered a caramel macchiato and genuinely tried to enjoy it, propping your legs up on the chair next to her.

“So,” she started, eyeing you like she had a bone to pick. She still looked so pretty when she was coming for your life. “We’ve been so busy with Josh, we haven’t had any alone time to talk about Trevor.”

You sucked in a deep breath and relaxed your stiff neck muscles, achy from behind hunched over while sewing. “Yeah. I kind of forgot about it, to be honest.”

“I have not, however. So dish,” she requested, reaching into her purse and pulling out a tube of lipstick. She applied it carefully in her phone camera as you spoke.

“Josh did it,” you admitted, making her eyes flick over to you momentarily. “I mean, I still slapped him, but Josh was the one that gave him a black eye.”

“And how do you feel about that?” she asked carefully.

You shrugged, wrapping your fingers tightly around your cup, half to leech the heat, and half because you were anxious. “I don’t know. I was kind of upset, but only because he could have gotten kicked out of school for that.”

She just nodded for you to continue as she cleaned up the lines around her lips with a paper napkin.

“I mean, and for what? He could have been arrested. Just for revenge. I feel like the best revenge would be just be keeping your head high.” You rolled your eyes at the beginning of your statement, just for emphasis.

She stared at you blankly as she picked up her mug. “Aren’t you flattered? I wish a guy would punch one of my hookups.”

“I mean, it’s cute, but I feel like he did it more for himself - for his own pride, you know?”

Her expression changed then to something a little heavier, her features sharpening in accusation. “Are you for real? Like, for real, for real?”

You frowned at her, feeling like you were being scolded. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a long breath, looking dumbstruck. “I haven’t really pressed it because I guess I just thought it was something that everyone knew but wasn’t talking about but-” She paused, putting her hand over yours on the table just to really drive the point home.

“That boy has it bad for you.”

You knew your expression was ridiculous by the way she looked at you with pity. “What the hell are you talking about? Josh? Are we talking about Josh?”

She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and nodded.

“Kiszka?” you tried again, still refusing to let her statement sink in.

“Yes,” she said through a laugh. “Yes, your roommate Josh. Curly hair, hippy bullshit - that guy. I swear to God I thought you knew. I mean, there were times when I was like ‘does she actually know?’ but then I thought ‘there’s no way she lives with him and doesn’t know that’. You’re telling me I was wrong?”

You were struck silent for a few long moments. “Are you sure?”

Thankfully, she was looking at you like you were a puppy with its head stuck in a peanut butter jar. “Look at me. He punched a guy in the face for you.”

You closed your eyes and tried to suppress a smile. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. There’s supposed to be a huge snowstorm this weekend. Now that you’ve heard me say it, return to me on Monday - after spending all weekend in the same place as him - and tell me you don’t see it then,” she said simply.

“Okay, I will,” you challenged.

“Okay, you do that,” she quipped with a smirk, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest confidently.

+++

In preparation, you had gone grocery shopping together, picking out everything you’d need to be stuck in the apartment together. He had even made you take him to a thrift store, just so he could see if there was anything fun. In the end, he had come out with a card game in a box, still wrapped.

Saturday morning the snow started falling, this time in huge, fluffy flakes, and it wasn’t supposed to stop until Monday evening.

While Josh was in the shower, you decided to get everything ready for the evening’s festivities that you had planned together. You had gone to find a good cheese board at the market until you found out they were too pricey for your (nearly nonexistent) budget, so you ended up laying out different crackers and cheeses onto a circular pizza pan.

By the time he got out of the shower, you had grapes, pickles, olives, and chocolates laid out on the coffee table, and he caught you just as you were pouring each of you a glass of wine.

The charcuterie was his idea - actually, the first thing he suggested when you said you wanted to have a fun night in on Saturday. The three different kinds of alcohol had been your idea.

“Okay, it’s all yours,” he informed as he trotted out from his bedroom, dressed in a fresh set of clothes.

The shower was still warmed up, the mirror still steamy. You got a towel out and stepped in under the spray.

You took the time to enjoy washing and conditioning your hair - your mom had been sweet enough to send you some of the expensive kind you love. Once you had hinted over the phone that you were homesick and the smell of it reminded you of home, she was already googling it.

Once you felt sufficiently clean, you stepped out and dried off. The clothes you had taken into the bathroom weren’t anything special - you had chosen comfort over aesthetic - but they were warm, which is what you really needed as the snow fell outside.

When you joined him back in the living room, Josh was waiting patiently on the couch.

“Ready?” he asked, handing you your glass of wine.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” You gestured down at the untouched food.

He smiled at you. “I know.”

You sipped at your drink as he gestured to the tv.

“Movie for background noise?”

You hummed in thought. “Maybe music?”

He nodded in agreement. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you pick will be perfect.”

By the time he had made a selection, you had nearly finished your glass of wine. “So, the costumes are coming along well. I got the cutest lace for the trimmings of Alice’s dress. I’m not sure you’ll even be able to see it from the audience, but she’ll look adorable in pre and post-performance pictures.”

He shot you a beaming smile. “That’s some master craft. Your attention to detail is unrivaled.”

You knew that he was just playing, but it still made your stomach flip.

“Should we play our card game?” he suggested, padding over to the kitchen and snatching the bottle of wine off the counter.

You watched his movements as he poured your glass full again. “Thank you. Yeah, we can. Or did you want to be drunker first?”

He hummed. “One shot each?”

“Of vodka?” you inquired as you picked yourself off of the couch. “Where are the shot glasses?”

“I don’t think I own any,” he admitted as he watched you rifle through the cupboards.

You shot him a shocked look. “You’re a college kid; why would you not own a shot glass?”

“Well, we haven’t needed it thus far. I don’t throw a lot of parties if you haven’t noticed.” He gestured around the empty room. “We’ll each just take a pull from the bottle?”

“Okay, you first,” you agreed, thrusting the bottle at his chest. He took it from your grasp with a smirk and then pressed his lips to the rim. He drank until the count of three before swallowing hard and passing it along.

You followed suit, except with more difficulty. He had made it look so easy, you had almost forgotten how vodka tasted. You swiped your thumb across your lips, wiping them dry in the process.

You took your seats back on the couch next to each other as the music played through the room.

“Charcuterie?” you offered, gesturing to the coffee table full of food.

“Yes, of course.”

As you watched him make a cracker sandwich, you spoke. “So, should we crack this game open?”

After he nodded excitedly, you ripped into the plastic wrap.

“Okay, it looks like it’s essentially just a questions game. We just draw one at a time and the other person answers them,” you explained after skimming the inside of the box. “And you have to finish your drink if you can’t answer it.”

He laughed. “Okay, ladies first. I’m ready.”

You pushed the stack of cards over at him. “No way, you ask me first,” you stated with a cheeky smile.

He raised his eyebrows at you but relented. As he plucked a card from the deck, he took a sip of wine.

“What is your favorite color?” he asked, leaning in and squinting like the information you were about to provide was essential to his existence.

You snorted. “Really?” He nodded, prompting you to continue. You hummed as you thought about it. “It’s blue.”

“What kind of blue? Like navy or sky?”

You shook your head. “No, more like that blue that’s so blue it hurts your eyes. The one that was a new pigment discovered not that long ago - so bright it hurts.”

He gave you a sincere smile. “That’s a good pick.”

“What’s yours?”

“That’s not how this game works,” he said through a breathy laugh.

You frowned at him. “Yeah, well. Then I’m asking you as a friend. Josh, what is your favorite color?”

He pursed his lips as he considered his answer. “It’s hard for me to pick, but maybe either red or orange.”

You nodded in agreement as you reached for the deck. “I could see that. Okay, your turn.”

You stared at the card in your hand that read, WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SLEPT WITH?

“Are you alright?”

You snapped your eyes up to him, quickly nodding as you realized that he had been waiting patiently for you to read it.

“Okay,” he agreed cautiously. “That’s good. What’s the question?”

You couldn’t suppress an awkward smile as a heat rose to your face.

“It says, ‘who is the last person you slept with?’,” you informed in a humored tone. You even held it up for him to see.

He stared at the card like it just accused him of a heinous act. “You really got to answer the color question and I have to answer this?”

His intensity made you snort a laugh, though you were trying to hold yourself together so you didn’t spill your wine. “Okay, okay. I’ll answer it too. Maybe we can play the game where we both just answer it.”

“Do you just want to hear me talk about sex?” he prompted with a shit-eating grin.

You gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you- You’re the one that picked this game out!”

Your overreaction was clearly exactly what he had been looking for. You were anticipating his ribbing to continue, but it didn’t.

“The last person I had sex with,” he started, pressing his lips against the rim of his glass as he took a swig. “Was from my music theory class.”

“When?” you quickly asked, shocking even yourself.

“Is that part of the question?” he teased smugly, picking a kalamata olive off of the tray and piercing it with his finger before popping it in his mouth.

You licked your lips nervously. “No, it isn’t,” you admitted. “You don’t have to answer that, I was just curious.”

“You wanna get high?”

He was staring directly into your eyes when you looked up at him again.

“I feel like it’ll make it easier to answer these.”

You nodded at him, biting your bottom lip. “Yes. Yes, I do want to.”

“My room?” he asked, picking up both of your glasses as he stood.

“Your room,” you confirmed, following suit.

Through the slats in his blinds, you could see that the ground was completely covered in a white blanket of snow. You spent some time watching it fall from his bed as he packed a bowl.

“Here,” he said gently to get your attention. “You take the first hit. I’m going to light it and you’re going to suck in and hold it in.”

You nodded in understanding.

“Not too much though,” he warned.

The glass was cool in your hands as you took it from him. When he held the flame to it, you did as you were told before exhaling with care. He was looking at you with a proud expression when you met his eyes.

You handed it back over to him, waiting until he was in the process of taking a hit before you spoke.

“Tell me when you slept with her,” you demanded calmly, biting back a smirk at the way his breathing faltered.

It had turned into a game of chicken as you held each other’s gazes silently.

“You haven’t even answered the required question yet and you want me to do the extra credit?” he quipped.

“The last person I fucked was a guy from tinder back home, and it happened a couple of months before I left,” you informed him confidently. “I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and he was a prick, so when we broke up, I went on a tinder bender just to feel something.”

A small smile spread across his pink lips as he listened.

“Now you.”

“She was my girlfriend last year. We broke up in April and I had a hard time saying no to late-night texts until the end of June.” His tone was sincere as far as you could tell, as were his eyes.

You were starting to feel the hit you’d taken by then, and you took a pause from the conversation to lean over the side of his bed and grab the bag of suckers you knew was waiting there for this very occasion.

The high washed over you in a gentle, pleasant manner, leaving you feeling a little dreamy.

“Sucker?” you asked, holding the bag open for him. He breathed a laugh - probably at you offering him his own candy - and then plucked one from the bag.

After he had it unwrapped, he held the bowl out to you again. “Want another? Or am I going to have to smoke the rest of this myself?”

“Yes, I’m sure that would be very rough on you, poor baby,” you teased.

He huffed a laugh, sitting up a bit straighter in his position. “You want another one or not?”

You stared at him wordlessly for longer than was socially acceptable, but when you finally spoke, it was with conviction. “I’ll have another baby hit.” You pulled the cards from the pocket of your pajama pants. “But then we’re playing another card, right?.”

He glanced down at the bowl and then back up to you. “When you say ‘baby hit’-”

“I mean I want you to blow it into my mouth with your mouth,” you explained cheekily, making him huff a laugh.

“You liked that, huh?” he asked, risking a dark glance up at you through his long lashes as his fingers played along the glass piece.

You knew exactly what you wanted to say - could hear it in your head, but your body felt tight with nerves at the thought of actually saying it. “Not as much as you did, I’m guessing.”

Oh, damn, you said it.

A smirk played across his mouth, his eyes half hooded. If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have thought he was completely unaffected by your teasing, but you had been listening to his breathing, so you were perfectly aware when it changed slightly. It was just the smallest difference in sound like he was pulling in air through tighter lungs.

“Be careful with what you’re accusing people of.” A warning, definitely, but almost more of a challenge. In the months that you’d spent with him, you’d never seen him like that, but you suppose you wouldn’t have unless- Unless you were about to make him do something truly reckless.

You bit your bottom lip out of an anxious, excited energy. “Oh, my mistake then.”

The ball was in his court, and you could tell that he was expecting him to continue pressing him. A look of slight disappointment flashed behind his eyes, but you weren’t done yet.

You nodded toward the bowl, prompting him to glance down at it like he had forgotten what he was doing in the game he was playing with you. He kept eye contact with you as he brought it to his mouth and lit it. You watched the white smoke circle the inside of the globe before he sucked it into his lungs.

You tilted your chin up in invitation and tried to relax your muscles as he leaned in, his throat looking tight.

You felt his nose brush yours first before you realized you had closed your eyes in anticipation. The smoky smell hit you first when you realized you were supposed to be taking it from him. You opened your eyes and tried to breathe it all in, but most of it was lost to the room.

He had a tiny smirk playing on his features until you reached out and wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pressing his forehead against yours in an abrupt motion. You could tell he had his teeth clenched by how tight his jaw looked.

You couldn’t stop yourself from playing your fingers along the sharp line of it.

“Do you want me?” you whispered, voice barely there at all.

Through a labored breath, he responded with a smoky sounding, “What would give you that impression?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, but unsurprisingly, it came out sounding raw. Your fingers brushed across the short hair on the nape of his neck, the pleasant feeling causing his eyelids to flutter.

You leaned forward until you pressed your cheekbone against his, lips right by his ear, and pointedly asked, “Do. You. Want. Me?”

“Fucking of course, I do,” he spat through clenched teeth, sounding distressed as his hands wrapped around your waist, thumbs pressed into your hipbones on either side.

“Should we?” you asked, pulling back so you could see his face.

“Probably not.” His words were humored, a melodic laugh accompanying them, but still somehow managed to not sound any less strained.

You considered what he was saying for a moment, relishing in the idea that this was the last moment before the point of no return. “Just one hookup,” you reasoned.

He smirked at you, looking all too smug and disbelieving. “Okay,” he agreed.

Patiently, you waited for him to make the first move, your heartbeat bouncing around like a basketball in your chest. When you felt his hands move from your hips, your body tensed, trying to predict where they’d end up next.

As he cupped your jaw with both hands, you melted a little, muscles noticeably relaxing.

The kiss was tentative at first - just a brushing of his lips on yours like he was testing the waters. He held your face like he was afraid that you were going to vanish into thin air - like your presence was the key to his existence.

You could hear his shallow breaths as he opened his mouth, pressing it against yours. His tongue tasted like the orange sucker he’d abandoned on its wrapper on top of the dresser next to his bed. You lapped at it, body rising as you shifted to crawl into his lap. With the way he was sitting, cross-legged on his bed straddling him was a bit of a strain on your inner thighs, but the feeling was oddly pleasing - like a warm-up for the workout you were about to endure.

He let go of your face to place his hands back on your hips, pulling your body as close to his as it physically could be. Before he could situate you too firmly, you started to unbutton your pajama shirt, and bless his heart, he couldn’t help but watch your fingers work.

“Is this really happening, or this just a super high fever dream?” he asked, shaking his head as he frowned like he wasn’t sure he could trust his eyes.

You wanted to laugh at him, but you could hardly blame his disbelief. If someone had told you even earlier that week that you’d be in this position, you would have rolled your eyes at them. You hadn’t realized how much you wanted this until it was about to happen.

The last button undone, you let the garment fall, the pink and white striped fabric slipping off the bed and to the hardwood.

The cool air was shocking on your bare skin at first, causing it to tighten - well, that and you could practically feel his eyes raking over your chest.

“It’s happening,” you assured, leaning in until you were speaking against his parted lips.

The feeling of him brushing the pads of his fingers over your nipple made your breathing shudder. When you tipped your head back, he ducked in and pressed his mouth to your throat, dragging a stripe across your skin with the flat of his tongue. Every part of your whole body felt hot, but none more than between your legs. You tried to grind yourself down on him, but couldn’t seem to get a good angle - luckily, he seemed to notice, and halted your movements with his hands on your hips, stretching his legs out straight.

He pulled back just far enough to see your face when he ground you down onto him, the outline of his cock slipping against your core. Even with all the layers between you, the feeling still made you crumble against him, a whine escaping your lips of its own volition. It was clear that he felt it too as he bit his lip, his eyes fluttering.

You seized the opportunity to get your fingers under his shirt, lifting it over his head as he held his arms up for you. Before he could prepare for it, you pressed closer, pressing a kiss to his temple and then nipping at his earlobe. The cool metal of his earring was pleasing against your tongue, and you reveled in the moment as he sucked in a sharp, shocked breath.

His hands snaked around your sides, palms wide as he cupped your ass and used the leverage to pull you against him again. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, he let a shaky breath escape him.

You could feel his thumbs hook under the elastic band of your pajama bottoms as he started to slip them down the cleft of your ass. Once it was bare, he ran his fingers over it, movement stalling as he looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Are you not wearing panties?”

You scoffed. “Not to bed, obviously. Are you implying that you wear something under those loose pants?”

The corners of his lips tilted up in a wicked smirk. “I encourage you to find out.”

You giggled at his confidence, sweetly nudging your forehead against his, so he didn’t expect the swift movement of your hand as you tugged the tie of his sweats down. The answer to your previous question was “no” - he hissed as you grabbed his erection, swiping your thumb across the head, glossy from the dim light through the blinds. It was just a tease though, because a split second later, you let go of it in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your mouth against his again.

As you pressed him back, he tried to hold you, but once he realized you weren’t just leaning on him for support, he relented. You laid him back on his bed, pulling back as you slipped your bottoms off the rest of the way.

“Jesus,” he breathed as his eyes took in the whole of your naked body above him. “Hang on.”

He reached to the bedside table and grabbed the bowl and lighter. After he sucked in another hit and set the piece back down, he tugged you in roughly, depositing the smoke directly into your mouth. You tried to hold it in like he had taught you, but you were much more interested in getting your tongue into his mouth.

Still, you were plenty high, so much so that looking down on his bare form had tears threatening your eyes. He looked so soft and sweet despite the position he was in, his eyes half-lidded and one hand behind his head, one on your bare hip.

You shifted until you could grind your core against the length of him, the wetness letting it slip through easily.

“Fuck.” You had thought it was an exclamation of pleasure until you opened your eyes and saw a scowl painted across his face. “I definitely don’t have a condom.”

You hummed through a smile. “I don’t blame you, I definitely didn’t expect this.”

He frowned up at you. “We can just try something else if you want,” he offered.

“Well, I’m on birth control, and given the length of time between our last sexual encounters, I’m guessing we’re both clean - I know I am.”

He stared at you for a long moment before really realizing what you were implying, but once he did, he licked his lips in consideration.

“Come here.” You weren’t sure what he was requesting until he grabbed onto your thighs and guided you up until you were straddling his face.

The thought of it made you blush, and surely your cheeks were hot to the touch.

He started with broad strokes of his tongue, just dragging it through. You briefly wished he had a headboard for you to brace yourself on, but your thoughts quickly became completely incoherent. You decided you were going to lean back instead, placing your palms flat on his bent knees. When you were completely comfortable and situated, he started pointedly flicking his tongue against your clit directly, first very soft and teasing, but building to something rougher and more deliberate.

You thought you were actually going to shake apart when he sucked your clit right into his mouth, rolling the bead of it around on the flat surface. When you could feel yourself getting close to the edge, you threaded your fingers through his curls, keeping him close.

The moment you lost it, everything in the room melted away from you - just a black expanse with flicks of color littered throughout it.

You took a moment to catch your breath, trying to bring yourself, at least partly, back to reality. When you pulled away from him, you were met with the sight of him - the entire bottom half of his face slick with your come.

He only let you watch in fascination as it dripped from his chin for a second before he was pushing you back, your head laid at the foot of the bed. He slipped his sweats off the rest of the way before crawling over you.

There was no way you could have blamed him as he pushed in, seemingly not having any time for a slow entrance - you did make him sit there, untouched, for god knows how long. You certainly couldn’t name even a rough estimate for the amount of time passed.

The spark of pleasure that shot through you made you throw your head back, your spine arching as you let out a whine.

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” he breathed, through tight teeth.

“Yes,” you hissed as you ground yourself down onto him. “Keep going.”

Your eyes were closed, but you were sure he was wearing an awed expression. You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in until your foreheads were pressed together. When he started to move his hips, you let out a long, pleased hum, pressing your nails into the skin on his shoulders.

Your whole lower half was still incredibly sensitive, so every time he brushed you, it made you writhe a bit beneath him. “Mm, fuck,” you growled as he intentionally reached down and pressed his thumb into your clit, the feeling resting somewhere between “just perfect” and “way too much”.

He was biting his lip as he watched your reaction intently. You felt his hand snake down your outer thigh, gripping it from the bottom. He lifted it up, near-forcing you to wrap it around his hip.

The new angle was a different kind of feeling - something hot deeper in your gut like someone placed a smoldering ember in your belly. You weren’t paying attention to anything but your own impending orgasm, so you didn’t expect it when he sucked your nipple into his mouth. He raked his teeth over the bud, causing your hips to jerk against him.

When you opened your eyes and met his, you took a moment to absorb his expression - like he was seeing another dimension through your face.

You could tell he was close when his lips fell open, but that was perfect because he was taking you with him. You hitched your legs around his hips and squeezed, letting your head tip back.

When you came a second time, it was with his open mouth pressed to your throat, his hot breath hitting your damp skin. You let out a low whine, fingers tangled in his hair, probably a little too tight.

You suspected it was probably your muscles clenching in orgasm around him that set him off, a string of expletives falling from his kiss-swollen lips. His hips shuddered as he fucked you through it.

The other side of your collective climax was warm and fuzzy, like watching home videos from the ‘60s. When he was able to hold himself all the way up, you ran your fingers through his damp curls affectionately.

He was clearly trying to get his bearings, his breath flowing in and out of him like a tide.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, sounding like he might not be able to speak any louder than he currently was if he wanted to.

You hummed through a smile. “So good, Maybe never better.”

He rubbed his nose against yours, the smallest hint of an upward tilt to his lips. “I’m high as hell, so I’m not sure what’s acceptable for our situation right now, but can I kiss you?”

“We probably shouldn’t,” you admitted, making his expression fall slightly.

He nodded at you in reluctant agreement. “You’re right.”

You bit your bottom lip. “Ah, fuck it, we’ll start going back to normal tomorrow.”

#josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #brightest blue fic #gvf #gvf fic

274 notes · View notes

nightowlfandom · 4 years ago

Text

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher x Reader- 27 (Part 2)

Hey beautiful people! SOOOO I got a comment on my last Scream imagine and they said...

ok but like a part 2 where we go picking them all off one by one and tell them what happened to (y/n) before we end them? and the revenge on the parents for it too? make them feel sorry for what they did and expose them to everyone. I mean not forcing but lightly tapping an idea

and....I AM IN LOVE...SO I GOT YOU BRAH

READ PART 1?

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Okay so you know the drill, I will let you know when to proceed with caution.

LEGGO!

... (Picking up directly after the events of part 1)

“...My parents weren’t the most loving people around.” you stared down at your fingertips. “They were overbearing...very controlling...loved to gaslight me from time to time.” you felt a lump form in your throat. “After the Hanna thing, they tried to sent me to boarding school.”

You three sat in Stu’s basement. You sat cross-legged on the floor and Stu and Billy cleaned up the dead body. Stu had given you a rag to wipe the blood off your face and hands.

“A while back before we all met...my parents weren’t too bad. Then Hanna came along and decided to ruin that for me too. She and her friends dragged me into the woods and beat me up...I was bleeding out everywhere...she told my parents I attacked her...she told them that I-..That I tried to kill her.” you shook your head. “My parents never looked at me the same...like they disowned me without saying they did.” you sniffed.

“What about the others?” Billy ceased his activities to stare at you. He was impressed how well you seemed to be taking everything.

“ Dylan leaked my friend’s nudes, Jennifer is Hanna’s slave...she was Hanna Number 2 when she couldn’t torture anyone else. Rachel....I just hate Rachel, and Cameron...is my ex.” you explained. “There are others...many others.” you seethed.

“And we’ll get to all of them.” Stu finished his job of tying Hanna’s legs together. “But first...how do you feel?”

“Like I just killed someone.” you half-joked, bringing your knees to your chest. “Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

“We didn’t want to scare you.” Billy reminded you. “We know how you are Y/N.”

“Still.” you pouted. “It would have been nice to know that you two were behind all this.” you stared at the floor. “Why didn’t you guys...y’know-”

“We wanted to...” Billy dusted himself off. “We tried...then you just had to charm us with that smile of yours.” he bit his lip as he smiled at the thought. “You just had to go and be adorable.”

There he was, standing with Stu hunched over a notebook of possible victims. They had agreed you’d be next, they really did. They had introduced themselves to you and gained your trust, but along the way, your kindness, your willingness to be so vulnerable around then...accepting them (especially Billy) for their flaws, they couldn’t...they wouldn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” you asked, standing to your feet.

“Not unless you know a place to dump this body.” Billy replied.

“There’s a lake behind Hanna’s house...” you recalled. “I saw it when my parents used to go over there for dinner.”

“Great!” Stu skipped over and took you in a hug. “So who do you wanna get first?”

“Me? You’re letting me choose?” you stared up at Stu who swore up and down you looked the most adorable you ever have, if that was even possible.

“This is your list, isn’t it?” Billy casually strode over. He tilted your chin up at him. “Just let us take care of it.”

“...Dylan first.” you concluded. “It’s for my friend...he has to go.” you asserted.

“As you wish princess.”

...(The Next Day)

You trudged away from your parent’s car, doing your usual habits of ignoring them as they saw you off. You saw Billy and Stu waiting for you on some benches. They glared behind you, obviously getting a good look of your parents.

“Hey cutie.” Stu threw himself at you, hugging you super tight. “How’d you sleep?”

“Shitty...” you mumbled. “Guess who just caught word of Hannas’s...untimely demise.”

“Serves the bitch right.” Billy flicked his middle finger at your parents as they drove off. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dylan throwing around a football with his friends. His gaze darted in your direction. He looked surprised to see you and Stu so close, so much so that he hesitated to throw the ball back to his friends. “Hey asshole, you got your turn. Hand her over.” Billy flicked Stu on the head as he pulled your out of Stu’s embrace.

“Oh you’re no fun.” Stu laughed, waving him off. Billy wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest and gingerly trailing his fingers down your back.

“Hey Y/N...”

You paused your momentary happy moment when Dylan came jogging up. You pulled away from Billy and faced your friend’s ex-boyfriend. “What?”

“Um...Hey.” he did that douche-bag hair flip. “What’s up?”

“I’m just spectacular.” you grimaced. He was really talking to you like he wasn’t the reason your only other friend switched schools. “Need something?”

“Yeah. I wanted to invite you to my party tonight.”

‘I’d rather-” you began, only to realize the mega opportunity you’d receive.

“Are your other friends coming?” you shifted all your weight to one side and pretended to absentmindedly twirl your hair.

“Um...Y-yeah.” he nodded.

“Can my friends come?” you acted oblivious and dumb, the only language he and his friends seemed to understand when it came to women.

“Sure. They can come join the fun.” he winked. “Tonight, 8:00 o’clock.”

“Splendid, you winked. I’ll be there.”

As Dylan returned to his friends, all of them laughing about the joke they thought you didn’t understand, Billy and Stu stood at your sides.

“You’re killer is showing, love.” Stu kissed the side of your head. “Easy now.” he laughed, even though he knew he was talking complete bullshit.

“I’m gonna have so much fun slitting that one’s throat.” Billy pointed to Rachel. “This is gonna be awesome.”

...(That Night)

You had managed to make it a few hours. Without completely losing your mind. Billy had taken it upon himself to put up him brooding angst-filled sadboi attitude and Stu showed up in his honorary pimp robe.

Now you all were sitting in a circle, playing stupid games.

“Y/N...truth or dare?” Jennifer called on you next, noticing how quiet you had been.

“Kiss, Fuck, Or Kill. Stu Macher, Cameron Kent, and Dylan Bayle.”

With a bored grin, you looked her right in the eye. She dared you to say you would fuck her boyfriend, little does she know...

“I guess I’d have to kiss Cameron...” you began warmly, recalling how you two used to date. Gross... “And as much as I love pissing you off...I wouldn’t touch Dylan with a ten foot pole...so I’d have sex with Stu.”

A few wolf whistles from the guy chorused around the circle as a few guys pat Stu on the back. Your eyes looked over at Stu whose cheeks were tinted pink. He shot you a smile and a quick wink.

“And you know what that leaves?...I’d kill Dylan.” you smirked, only to put on a front again. Before anyone could say anything else, you all heard a phone ring. Coincidentally, the phone was right next to you.

“Y/N, get that will you. Put it on speaker.”

“I got you.” you grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” you replied.

“I dunno...”

“Sure buddy.” you rolled your eyes as you hung up.

“Okay! Dylan!” Rachel drunkenly asked. “Truth or Dare!”

“Dare baby!” Dylan laughed.

“I dare you to go into the bedroom with Y/N and do something with her!” she laughed. “You can’t leave until you do something!”

“Did anyone ask my opinion on this?” you felt disgusted as the words left your mouth. How much longer were you gonna have to put up with this? “Stu, help me out!”

“A dare’s a dare, babe.” he laughed as he took another swig of whatever.

“Ugh!!” you grimaced as you stood up and followed Dylan. You made sure to lightly bump your shoulder against Stu’s as you walked. You two looked eyes momentarily, sharing a discrete smirk between eachother.

The door closed behind you. (PROCEED WITH CAUTION! READ MORE BELOW THE LINE BREAK)

...

You stood there, playing with your fingers as Dylan came up to you.

“You know Y/N...I’ve always liked you.”

“Oh really?” you asked shyly. “W-well why didn’t you tell me?” you half giggled half gagged.

“I couldn’t find the right words.” he reached out to touch your cheek.

Meanwhile downstairs, everyone laughed at the hidden camera footage they were watching. They couldn’t wait to post this to the school’s website.

“Oh my god!” you screamed at you pointed behind Dylan. Everyone watched as a dark hooded figure creeped up behind Dylan and grabbed him buy the back of his head, digging a knife into his shoulder. Then he charged for you, stabbing you in the stomach...slowly but surely he creeped up to the camera, looking directly at it. “Nuh uh uh~” he sang before he punched the camera, causing the signal to break.

This caused everyone to scream bloody murder and attempted to scream.

Back in the bedroom, you had managed to hear the screaming. “Can I get up now?” you rolled over. “Pretending to die is so weird.”

“Allow me.” Billy walked over and helped you to your feet, ridding himself of his Ghostface mask. “You look good covered in fake blood.”

“Do I?” you fake pouted. Billy didn’t answer and instead kissed you. He held your face in his hands, gently moving his soft lips against yours. He would have went crazy is Dylan managed to get that far. He was glad that he could finally show how he felt about you in a personal way.

“You do.” he bit his lip as he pulled away.

“W-what the fuck?!” Dylan, who was very much alive looked between you two. “You’re in on this.”

“Oh shut up!” you grabbed Billy’s knife and walked up to him. “Kyla Grayson, who is she?”

“Kyla Grayson?”

“ARE YOU AN ECHO?” you snapped. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know! I swear!” he tried to cower away from you.

“You don’t remember showing private pictures of a young impressionable freshman to your fucking friends?” you glared. “She trusted you...she liked you a lot...and because of you she had to move to a different county.” you raised the knife over your head. “Any last words?”

“SURPRISE!” Stu burst through the door, also dawning a Ghostface getup, only without the voice changer. He was dragging Jennifer and Rachel by the hair.

“You’re just in time for the show.” you said, not looking up from Dylan.

“Y/N...y-you’re-”

“Don’t talk.” you kept your eyes on Dylan. “I’ll get to you soon.”

(Part 3 will be revenge against your parents)

#slasher imagines #slasher fanfiction #imagines #slashers x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface imagines #billy x reader x stu #scream imagines #billy loomis imagines #stu macher imagines #horror imagines #poly ghostface

402 notes · View notes

troubatrain · 4 years ago

Text

new year’s day - m.tkachuk

a/n: i wasn’t going to write a part two to tis the damn season, but i couldn’t help but feel like new year’s day was an excellent excuse to write one so here we are. i started this blog about a year ago sometime after new year’s and it’s been a little crazy but you guys are honestly awesome. i just wanted to thank you for constantly supporting my fics and chaotic ways i write and all of the people who i get to idea dump with. thank you & have a happy and safe new year’s!

Life was sweet.

Matthew had been blissed out since the moment you both arrived back in Calgary, like the last piece of his life had fallen back into place. You were the kind of peace he needed, someone who anchored him down before his ego got the best of him, and someone who could see past all of the bullshit to begin with. Matthew knew a storm was on the horizon, the talk about what any of this means after you left to go back to St. Louis. Matthew fucked up the first time, because he a dumb kid who wasn’t ready for anything life was about to throw at him. He got scared, all of the new pressure in his life got real and he ran away from the only thing that comforted him.

For the moment, none of that mattered. What was important to him right now was watching you laugh with a few of his teammates in a dress Matthew intended on taking off later. A laugh he could have recognized anywhere. It was New Year’s Eve, and Matthew was hosting, something he never thought would happen. His teammates thought he was kidding when he asked if they wanted to go to his place for a New Year’s Party, but he was being serious. You outdid yourself, telling Matthew he couldn’t possibly have a party with any sort of decorations.

“You look good with a girlfriend Chucky,” Matthew’s stare was broken but Mark’s voice behind him. A hand lands on his back of his neck to cover the blush. You made him better, that’d been clear from the moment you walked in your freshman English and sat next to Matthew. He had a perfect grade in that class, because he spent a year trying to impress you before he finally just asked you.

“Trying not to fuck it up this time,” Matthew admits sheepishly, because he was so nervous about losing you again, “She’s always been it for me, but I can’t just ask her to stay here-”

“You don’t have to, just let her know she’s part of your plan,” Mark suggests, and it makes sense to Matthew. When you dated the first time, he had all these plans. His plan for where he’d go before he got drafted, his plan to play his first year, and none of them ever included you. Well they did, but Matthew wasn’t about to tell you he wanted to marry you at seventeen. You deserved to know that when he thought about his future, it was with you.

It was here. It was watching you joke with Johnny and Sam like you’d known them for years. It was the first game you went to after you landed and Matthew got to skate out for warm ups and see you against the glass. It was the other morning when he caught you peeking out the windows of his condo while snow was falling, your eyes sparkling at the site. Matthew couldn’t think of anything else he wanted for the rest of his life besides you.

Matthew excuses himself from the conversation, catching a glimpse at the time. It was five minutes to midnight, a New Year was about to ring in and he got to spend it with you. He sneaks behind you, grabbing your waist and pulling into him, “Hi.”

“Matty,” You squirm, giggling while Matthew tickled at your sides. He didn’t care who heard you call him Matty because it was you. You look up at him, a smile on your face while you pressed a kiss to his cheek. Matthew scoffs, pointing to his lips, “At midnight bubs.”

“Yeah bubs,” Sam teases, Matthew lifting up his middle finger. You grab his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

“Just admit you’re a big baby Matthew, it’ll save us some time,” You smirk, Sam breaking out in laughter. Matthew was a big baby, constantly whining when he couldn’t pull you close in bed or pouting his way through something he didn’t want to do, “Now countdown to midnight with us…”

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

A chorus of cheers and New Year’s wishes filled Matthew’s place, but all of that was static with your lips pressed against his. His hand was splayed across your back, the bare skin peeking out of your dress was on fire from his touch alone. His other hand was tilting your chin up, holding you close to him.

“Happy New Year baby,” Matthew mutters, another quick kiss to your lips before he pulls away. Your eyes fluttered open, snapping back into reality.

By the time it was two in the morning, Matthew had managed to push his party guests out and his next task was you. You were spinning around his bedroom, and Matthew was waiting for you to trip over your own heels every second. You finally flop down on his bed, kicking your feet out, “Please?”

Matthew sighs, pausing from unbuttoning his own dress shirt and sitting next to you on the bed. He unbuckles your heels, “Have fun tonight?”

“I like it here,” You whisper, as if you’d been afraid to admit it. You snuggle into the bed, your eyelids getting heavier by the minute, “Because you’re here.”

“I like it here more when you’re here too pretty girl,” Matthew grins, his eyes soft when he looks down at you, “You need to get out of this dress.”

“Get me out of it,” You smirk, picking your head and giving Matthew a wink. If you weren’t five tequila shots deep he probably would have, but he knew you were far too drunk for that. He chuckles, shaking his head and tossing you one of his shirts and walking into the bathroom. He finally got back into his room, your head on his pillow while you waited for him.

He finally jumps into bed, throwing an arm over your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “Goodnight.”

“Matty?” You call out, whispering before he falls asleep on you. He hums, waiting for you to speak, “Don’t give up on me this time.”

And Matthew could have sworn he felt his heart break.

***

You woke up with a massive headache, only getting worse by Matthew’s snoring in your ear. The past week had been nothing short of perfect, Matthew pulling out all the stops to prove he really did want you back. You roll over in his arms, tracing the side of his face, he wasn’t going to wake up. Matthew hadn’t changed, and that meant he still slept like a rock. Your fingers moved along the stubble across his chin, a new addition with change you were starting to love.

You finally got out of bed, tossing on whatever hoodie Matthew had closest to the bed and padding down the hallway to turn up the heat. Calgary was cold, a bitter kind you were in a hate/love relationship with. Most of the love came from why you were here, and the weather was something you just needed to deal with. You walk through the living room, plastic cups from the night before were covering the place. Confetti and polaroid's thrown across the coffee table with intentions for them to be a problem for another time. You pick one up, of you sitting on Matthew’s lap. You were looking at the camera, a wide smile on your face while Matthew was just looking at you.

“I want that one,” Matthew’s raspy morning voice caused you to jump, his long arm reaching over and holding the picture in his hand, “For here.”

You give Matthew a small smile, watching him run his finger over the picture. He’s quiet for a minute, biting his lip like he’d been debating what to say, “Matty?”

“I see you in my future,” Matthew breathes out, his last and final confession he had to make to both of you, “When I think about all of the things I want, you’re always there.”

“What if it happens again?” You whisper, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. The very real fear of this imploding on the two of you scared you like no other. You had to put those pieces back together alone, and you weren’t sure if you were prepared to do it again, “What if this is too much and-”

“It won’t be, I’m ready this time,” Matthew assures you, “I was ready then too, but I didn’t think you’d be. I had to give you up because you deserved better than following me around while I got myself settled. I am, I’m here and I’m ready for this.”

Matthew’s voice was raw, pleading with you that he was telling you the honest to god truth, “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“I’d rather do hard with you than easy with someone else Y/N,” Matthew smiles, his dimples poking out.

“Matthew I swear if you break my heart again,” You threaten, poking your finger into his chest, “I will let your brother kick the shit out of you.”

Matthew chuckles pressing kisses all over your face, the sound of your laugh flooding his place. You spent the rest of New Year’s cleaning the condo, picking up the empty champagne bottles left from the night before and spending the day on the couch before your flight left.

***

What Matthew didn’t know then, was that it would work. Long distance was rough, but you’d both made enormous sacrifices for each other. It took planes, trains, cars and a whole of patience, but by the time the next year rolled around- things still seemed to work. You walked through the lobby of Matthew’s place in Calgary, your suitcase felt heavier than it had been on any of your previous trips. You had a late Christmas present for him, one that if you didn’t give him in person it wasn’t going to be the same.

“You’re here!” Matthew hops off the couch when you let yourself in, he grabs your waist picking you up and spinning you around. Matthew presses a kiss to your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you stopped him, “Babeeeee…”

“Quit your whining, I have something for you,” You stop him, opening up your suitcase and pulling out a folder. He furrowed his eyebrows, sliding it open. It was a job offer. One for your dream position. In Calgary.

Matthew was stunned, speechless while his eyes read over the offer four times. It was real and if it meant what his brain thought it did it meant that a year of long distance was about to be so fucking worth it. His finger ran across the paper, looking up at you. You had a grin on your face, happy with yourself for not telling him until this very moment.

“I’m going to take it, if that wasn’t obvious-” You start to explain, but Matthew had scooped you back into his arms before you could finish speaking. His arms were holding you tightly, muttering something into your shoulder, “What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Matthew’s eyes were bulging out his head, and you narrowed your eyes at him. He was lying to you, you just gave him the best news of his life and he’s lying to you.

“Stop lying”, You demand, stepping out his arms, “Do you not want me here?”

“Fuck, no baby I do, I just-” Matthew sighs, running into his arm and rummaging through his drawers. You stood by the door, confused as to what had gotten into your boyfriend.

“I was going to do this tonight, I even flew out our families, because I got you back on New Year’s and,” Matthew steps back into the room, a blue box in his hand in a color you’d be damned if you didn’t recognize, “In all of my life, I’ve only ever known that I was supposed to be with one person, and that was you. You’re my soulmate, and the world has constantly tried to pry us apart but I swear it just made us stronger. We’re the best god damn team in the world Y/N, and I think we’d be even better if you married me?”

Your hand was over your mouth, tears spilling out while Matthew’s soft blue eyes were staring into yours. He was right, you were the best team in the world. You were two people who could look at each other in a crowded room and know what the other was thinking. You were in love, and the few years where you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t always going to be Matthew at the end were just a part of the story. You nod your head, watching Matthew put that ring on your left hand and you couldn’t help but think about the way you’d get to tell your children and grandchildren your most epic love story.

Because after all, you wanted his midnights, and everyday after that.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

368 notes · View notes

internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Respectful Cannibalism

Summary: Watching mystery movie with a bunch of detective was a bad idea

A/n: While this is part 3 to my Space Case series, you’re not required to read Art Gallery Smile or Cosmonauts to understand the context to this. The only note I do have is that Dick and Steph are friends with Reader much to Tim’s everlasting horror. Special thanks to @littleredwing89 and @glorified-red for proof reading this mess.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff and a confusing amount of batkids in one scene.

Main Masterlist

Tim Drake Masterlist

Tim coughs, loud and ragged into the speaker. You find yourself wincing at the phone tucked against your ear. Tim sounds like he’s dying or, at the very least, he’s on his way there.

“I’m so-”

“Fucking tired of saying sorry that you decided to go skinny dipping in Gotham Harbor? Yeah. Great, I’m sick of hearing it too. Glad, we’re on the same page, Space Cadet.” You exasperate, pulling on your jeans violently enough for Tim to hear the angry shuffling of fabric.

“Skinny dipping?” Tim huffs, a fond smile playing on his lips as he drinks in the timber of your voice. Even when you were absolutely exasperated, your voice was still soothing or maybe he just misses your company. God, he’s such a sap.

You shake your head in disbelief. That was his take away? “Yes, Timmy, Buck-ass skinny dipping,” you laugh, coming out derisive and sharp. Tim groans this time filled with guilt. The first few sounds of another ‘I’m sorry’ form in the back of his throat as he runs his hand through his bed head. For once, you’re thankful that you’re nowhere near Tim because you are one apology away from decking him and you’re pretty sure that that’s a terrible thing to do to a sick person, especially one with no brain cells to spare.

“I- You were really looking forward to this (Y/n), don’t try to deny it.” You weren’t going to. He was right. You were looking forward to this date. You were impossibly, unreasonably giddy over the prospect of going to the planetarium with Tim this afternoon. WITH Tim. Sure, you’re pretty down about it but you were the tiniest bit more concerned about the fact that your boyfriend had water in his lungs and almost died of hypothermia for a hot second. You pinch the bridge of your nose, hoping that worry and murder radiate off of you in equal measure. “I was also looking forward to my letter from Hogwarts,” you sneer, pausing dramatically to look at your watch, “and it’s been roughly a decade.” You hear Tim swallow and the hairs on your neck bristle in petty satisfaction.

Tim chortles, a lively sound that startles you, then coughs but the sound comes out somehow sounding doubtful and teasing. Embarrassment flares up in you. “You were too!” you protest, hackles drawn to full height. A short breathy laugh leaves Tim and you feel the flush on your face ease into something softer and more rounded. All the sharpness in your veins dissipates as the flash of fondness for that stupid laugh takes over. You can imagine him warm under the covers smiling at the phone at your blunder. “Please, (y/n), my hopes were dashed when I was 4 and still not in the Jedi order.”

“Bullshit, you were never a child,” you snort, sharpening the grin on your face into something vicious. “I refuse to believe you were ever a child! You probably sprang out of a textbook fully formed- Wait, I’m getting off-topic. ” Tim hums innocently and you narrow your eyes at the phone, hoping he can feel the ‘I am revoking your breathing privileges’ look. “You always are.” Tim says before falling into a coughing fit.

“Sorry, Cosmo, I just keep getting lost in your eyes,” you whisper, pitching your voice rich and caramel smooth. There’s a sound on the other line. Tim is babbling you realize. You hear a shuffle of fabric and a body rising. Tim sucks in a breath, red-faced and caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. He can practically see the cocky grin playing on your face, the light of the sun reflecting as golden flecks in your eyes. “You can’t even see them!” Tim stammers, glowering at you through the phone. You cackle at him as if sensing the venomous look he’s giving you. “You can barely open them!” Tim rolls his, very much, open eyes, falling back into an unnecessarily large pile of pillows that Alfred insisted was necessary for bed rest with a loud ‘fwoof’. “Yes, I can,” Tim mumbles, sounding young for once. You do your level best to smother a grin on your face. “I’m just really drowsy from the chamomile tea Alfie gave me.” You stop dead in your tracks, one hand half in your coat the other on the doorknob. You blink. “You’re at the Manor?”

Tim pauses, making a frustrated noise. He shouldn’t have said that. “Dick and B… insisted.” This draws another one of your sharp laughs. He says insisted as if it was ever negotiable. “Did they ‘insist’ before or after they blow-dried and hung you out to dry?” Tim squawks and you hear shuffling again. Tim tries to remember why he doesn’t hate you. “Tell me again how you found out about me getting sick? Steph? Cass?”

“Hmmmmmm, Dick.”

“THAT TRAITOR”

“Funny way to pronounce older brother,” you hum smug. You can feel Tim glaring daggers at you. “You-”

“There’s a home theater, yeah?”

Tim pauses, this time longer. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“Answer the question, Space Case.”

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Great! It’s a date then,” you say, mentally preparing a route to the Manor from the vague directions Steph told you once. You could just use the maps app-

“NO!” You freeze. Tim flinches at the volume of his own voice. He whispers an indiscernible ‘I’m sorry’. You turn it over in your mind before speaking. “No?” You ask, trying your best to sound hurt instead of amused. Maybe you should have pitched your voice higher, more shaky. “Look, Tim, I-” Tim heaves a loud sigh. “-(Y/n), you’re fine-” Well, you aren’t, you think. You bite your tongue, physically to make sure you don’t say anything unnecessary. “-It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s- It’s just my siblings...” Tim knows that his siblings have been talking about you.

“Timmy, I can take whatever shovel talk they can give me,” you say with the confidence of someone who has never been dangled over the edge of a roof top. Ok, to be fair, YOU had nothing to worry about. Tim, on the other hand, was going to get roasted alive. Maybe he can persuade you into not- Tim hears the tell tale sputtering of your bike’s engine and he feels his blood pressure spike. The engine genuinely sounds like a death rattle.

“You’ll get sick.”

You swear and he hears another sputter of the engine. “You’ll get sick,” he croaks again, louder this time hopefully over the dying engine. Maybe if your engine dies right now, he’ll be spared from a slow agonizing death via siblings. “Relax Cosmo, I have the strongest ward against whatever you got,” you say, giving the engine a light kick. Tim hears a few metallic clunks then the engine stutters to life. Tim looks up past the ceiling trying to glare at whatever cosmic being resurrected your engine.

“Which is...”

“Being broke. It does wonders for your health.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s how it works,” Tim says, shifting burying his head against the too soft pillows. The soft fabric makes his eyes feel heavy. He yawns. He hears the sputter or your laugh. It’s hard to tell from the sudden drowsiness making his head swim.

“I promise I’ll explain to your typical rich kid ass when I get there, Tim.”

“That’s not how it works,” Tim slurs, face pressed into a pillow.

You laugh, he’s sure this time.

“I’m-” Tim’s mind unfocuses and the words you say garble together ”-Tim. ”

Tim blinks, mouth moving to ask you to repeat that but the last thing he hears is a soft click.

On the bright side, it would just be him and Alfred at the manor.

_________________________________________________________

Batmanisfake: I heard (y/n)'s coming over😶

Nightwingingit:👀 How do you even know that?

Batmanisfake: What are you? A cop?

Nightwingingit: say that again but slowly 🙄

Batmanisfake: ...

Damian: He bugged Drake's phone. For blackmail purposes, of course.

Nightwingingit: JASON

The Cool One: Shush Dick! He's onto something

Batmanisfake: Thank you

The Adult: I for once had nothing to do with it😌

Theactualbatman: I'm assuming we're all coming home tonight?

The Cool One: I'll bring popcorn

Damian: Nonsense Pennyworth will likely have some prepared

The Cool One:😭 We really do not deserve that man

Nightwingingit: Definitely

thesaneone: We're recording Tim's face when he sees us, right?

Batmanisfake: From all angles

The Adult: You're all horrible

Batmanisfake: Please like you're not hacking into the cameras as we speak, Babs

The Adult: You have no proof👀

_________________________________________________________

Tim’s head felt thick and gooey like one of Alfred’s custards. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s in a fish tank. There’s a sickly Chlorine smell clogging his nostrils; it smells powdery and sterile and reminds him vaguely of aspirin. Tim blinks. His eyes hurt; they feel puffy and sore and hot. His vision is further obscured by a thick layer of fleece blankets Alfred had piled high over him. He shuts his eyes still feeling too overwhelmed by the low light coming from the window.

Tim thinks he hears his window open with a soft click. Tim quiets his breathing. His hearing is too muddled to process anything beyond it. There’s a soft thud of heavy boots in the room; it’s imperceptible and dreamlike the way it reaches his ears that it has him shifting under the covers trying his best to discern the sound. A dozen lighter footsteps follow it and he can sense 6 shapeless bodies hovering over him.

“Should we wake him up?” asks a voice that vaguely sounds like Cass.

There’s a shuffling sound. Leather, he thinks. “Wait, lemme take a picture.”

“Red, why? It’s not like you can blackmail him with pictures of him sleeping.”

“Because, flashlight, I need proof that Timbo sleeps. ”

“Because?”

“Ok, how many times have you seen him asleep?”

“Uh...”

“Exactly!”

Tim hears a laugh that distinctly sounds like Dick. “Does it count if Alfie drugged him?”

“Maybe?” Steph says, shrugging.

“It doesn’t, Brown.”

“Damn it.”

“Does that mean B doesn’t sleep?”

“Nope.”

Maybe if Tim keeps sleeping, they’ll go away on their own. Tim wraps the sheets tightly around himself, hoping the large stack of fleece would be enough to muffle his siblings.

“I’m pretty sure I have dibs on waking him for opening the window for you shits.”

“Red, anyone could have opened that,” Duke laughs, stepping slightly behind Cass, who at the moment was paying more attention to the moving pile of fabric. Maybe if Tim stays really still she’ll turn her attention to something else.

“Cass and Dickface would have just broken it.‘

“I would not!”

“Sorry, Cass, you would.”

“Steph, whose side are you on?”

“Why is no one defending me?” Dick sighs.

“No one cares, Dickface. And Blondie’s clearly playing for the right team-” Steph cackles. “-none of you have any finesse.”

“Not all of us can be drama queens, Todd.”

“You’re like the third to the last person I wanna hear this from.”

“Third? You’re ranking us now? Who gave you the right?”

“Alfred,” Jason deadpans, “And yeah. Bruce and Dick are first and second.”

“Hey!”

“Can it Mr. Pretty Man Down.”

“That was one-”

“What rank am I?”

“uh �� fifth.”

“Fifth?!”

“Sorry, Blondie, Cass has you beat with that ballet kick thingy.”

“Ok, yeah I can accept that. What about Babs?”

“What about Babs? The woman can kick my ass six ways to Sunday. ”

Tim’s head throbs all over. There are soft pin pricks pressing on the sole of his left foot; his leg jerks involuntarily. He wants to scream. Tim swears under his breath. A gloved hand pries the covers away from Tim’s face. Tim squints his eyes open only to be greeted by Dick’s kind, but still very punchable, face. Tim takes a long rasp, pinching his features in a mix of annoyance and despair. “Why are you-” Cough! “-here?”

There’s a slight quirk to Dick’s smile.“They wanted to meet (y/n),” Dick explains in a sweeping theatrical motion of his hand across the room directing Tim’s attention to the expressions on his sibling’s expressions which were all a variation of devious scheming.

“How did-” cough. “- you even know-” cough. “-(y/n) was coming?” Tim asks, shooting up from his pile of pillows causing a couple of blankets to topple to the floor to the ground. Tim’s lightheaded. He suddenly feels a shift in his balance, a feeling of vertigo. He nearly topples to the ground, his blood not quite catching up to his movements, when feels hands wrap around his shoulders. “Woah there Baby Bird, slowdown.”

“Answer-” Cough!

“It was Todd.”

“You mutant sperm!”

“Jay, aren’t we all mutant sperm?” Steph laughs, slinging one arm over an irate Damian’s shoulders and another over a fuming Jason’s shoulders. Tim groans, sounding pained. “How much do I need to pay each of you to get all of you to go away?”

“A lifetime of IOUs,” Dick says, casually.

“NO!”

“All of your share in W.E.,” Duke says, laughing. Steph elbows him lightly, also laughing. “You’re shooting prelow there, Slick,” Steph teases. Duke shrugs still grinning. “Gotta keep it realistic, yanno?” Steph and Duke keep bickering.

“Drake, kindly, pay with your life.”

Tim scrunches his nose. “I’m already on my deathbed, you know, dying. What else do you want from me?”

“A more agonizing death.”

Jason grins, tilting his chin. “C’mon, Timbo, we can help with your little impromptu date.” Tim groans, placing his face in his hands. “Please just help me dig my own grave.”

“What would be the fun in that, Timbo?”

“For you or for me?”

“Come on, Tim, it’ll be fine,” Cass says, clearly not believing the words herself. All seven of them dissolve into another round bickering. Damian, Jason, and Steph hellbent on giving Tim an aneurysm. Duke and Cass playing at being neutral; Duke leaning on Tim’s side but laughing way too hard at Steph’s well placed jabs; Cass is only mildly siding with Tim to spite Jason. Why this time? Tim has no clue.

The string of banter is broken up by the echoing the doorbell. Tim’s heart seizes as they all fall silent, enraptured by the odd sound of a doorbell filling the hallowed halls of Wayne Manor. The chiming of bells ends with the creaking of the large oak doors in the front of the manor.

Before Tim’s sluggish brain could even formulate a thought, all of his siblings are all bounding towards the door, bouncing off the walls and flipping over obstacles. Tim scrambles, lagging, after the hoard of vigilantes barrelling towards you. Tim tries to shout after his siblings but his voice is drowned out by raucous laughter and bickering.

You stand at the door, head haloed by the pale afternoon light as the sky catches fire, flecks of snow sparkling in your hair. You tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear as you sheepishly thank Alfred as he takes your coat.

Tim struggles to breathe an he genuinely doesn’t know if it’s because of his lungs, you, or the fact that of all his siblings, Babs was the one who got there first and Tim genuinely doesn’t know if Babs is there to hold off the gaggle of vigilantes or to scare you off. From the jovial grin wrinkling your features, Tim’s pretty sure Babs just gave you some blackmail material instead of putting you through the ringer- an equally scary outcome. For your part, you don’t look even slightly phased by the fact that Babs is in a wheelchair or even by the way she’s clearly sizing you up. All of this rolls off of you with an easy motion of your shoulders as you answer her questions in the most frustratingly oblique way based off of Babs’s expression. Tim can’t help the curve on his lip as you blatantly dodge another of Babs’s questions with a smile. You spot him, winking, and the tips of Tim’s ears flush.

Your cocky demeanor fades when a gaggle of batbrats crowd you; nervousness creeps into your form, ironing out your posture into something unnatural and defensive. “Is this a bad time?” You ask through a tight lipped smile. Babs glares at them but doesn’t make any effort to hide the satisfaction at your shaken demeanor. “Don’t mind them, Sweetie,” Babs says, patting your back and guiding you away from the gaggle. You shuffle awkwardly, trying to coax your spine back into a more natural curve.

“(Y/n)!” Tim manages between gasps for air. Making a person with non functioning lungs run has to be some sort of human rights violation. His voice is louder than he anticipated. He realizes, but the apprehension in his body flits away when you beam at him-a wide cheeky smile that has his body vibrating with delight. He made you smile like that, Tim thinks, heart swelling almost enough to soften the impact of the next few words. “Hey, Duckie!” you chirp tilting your face in a cute lopsided smile.

“Duckie?” Jason sniggers.

Duke’s face passess from confusion, realization, then amusement in a matter of three seconds.“Duckie? As in ‘quack quack’?” Duke asks, pretending to still be dumbstruck.

“Yes, Duckie, Tommy Terrific,” you say, the lopsided smile curving into a playful grin. The dumb nicknames earn you a loud, surprisingly nonthreatening, approving laugh from Jason who then says “We’ll keep those nicknames in mind” which just drags pained looks from both Tim and Duke. Dick and Damian on the other hand look absolutely delighted.

“(Y/n), tell them about the other nicknames,” Steph says, grinning savagely. Your eyes widen and you wrinkle your nose, mouth twitching from side to side, trying to pretend away the heat rising from your cheeks. “Not on your life, Stephie.”

“Aaaaaw! Not even for lil ol’ me?” Dick pouts, throwing his arms around you. The familiarity of the action has Tim bristling. “Pleeeeeaaase,” Dick whines; a smile hidden in your hair, “not even for Alfred’s cookies?” You make a noise caught between a laugh and a groan. “Hmmmm… maybe? Throw in some candy.”

“Deal.”

Tim blinks. “You’d betray me for sugar?”

“Cus I ain’t getting any while you’re sick,” you cackle, grinning along with Dick who looks way too pleased with the outcome of the conversation. Tim desperately wants to melt into the floor. Looking at all his siblings who are eagerly awaiting for the litany of nicknames, Tim cuts in. “Let’s just go watch that film.”

“What are we watching?” Cass asks, leaning to look over your shoulder, clearly shoving Dick out of the way. Dick does his best to not budge.

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“We are under a communist regime, Timbo. We’re all watching it together,” Jason says, slinging Tim over his shoulder.

“Have a heart, Drake. We only want to spend family time together,” Damian says, somehow still looking imperious even from where Tim is dangling. A dull ache starts spreading across Tim’s like his skull is being squeezed.

“Hope you guys like Clue,” you say, fishing it out of your cornucopia of unhealthy junk food. “I figured you detectives would like a good mystery.” Dick snorts taking the disc from you and reading over the contents efficiently. “Bet you I can get the ending even before any of you.”

“No, you won’t,” Jason barks, setting off a long winded argument about who the best detective is.

“Didn’t you say you would eat me if I spoiled another mystery movie for you? Are you planning to eat my entire family?” Tim croaks quietly. You scrunch your nose, twitching your mouth four times to the left and four and a half times to the right. “Technically, what I said was ‘I’ll respectfully go back to juvie for cannibalism if you spoil another movie that night’,” you hiss low, trying not to draw attention to your conversation. Unfortunately for you, his siblings have good hearing.

“And this is different how?” Tim asks, this time not bothering to control his volume.

“You’ll never figure out the ending,” You say smiling innocently. Tim rolls his eyes and huffs a ‘we’ll see’. It doesn’t wipe the smile off of your face.

As it turns out, the Wayne Manor theater is less of a theater and more of a bean bag storage closet with a large screen. Jason tosses Tim unceremoniously into one of the random bean bags in front of the couch before gracefully pirouetting into the couch. You chuckle and continue your search for something to put your Bluray in, just now realizing that you should have probably just asked for their Netflix password or something. Alfred appears out of nowhere handing Jason and Cass each a bowl of buttery popcorn and scolding Jason about manhandling his brother in front of a guest. Jason looks unrepentant. No surprises there. With a swat on the back of Jason’s head, Alfred turns to you, gloved hands extended out to you. “I can take that."

“Oh… Uh thanks- Thank you,” you stammer. To your left, Tim snickers and your hand slip, somehow the blanket Babs handed you finds its way to Tim’s face. “Shut up, Ducktective. He’s practically your grandpa and I kinda wanna make a good impression,” you hiss, cheeks warming. Tim coughs, a little dumbfounded. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that you were nervous about this.

Tim checks if his brain is on straight before speaking. “Relax, you haven’t physically assaulted me or any of my family yet so you’re immediately at the top of Alfie’s list.” You open your mouth to speak then curl it into a frown, looking appalled and concerned. Apparently, his brain wasn't on as straight as Tim thought. "Am I going to have to fight your exes? At some point?"

"No!"

"Yes!" Steph says, handing you a red bean bag. Tim scowls at Steph as he watches the color drain from your face. She just shrugs and goes off to annoy Dick.

“Mr. Boddy?” Damian asks incredulously, reading the box summary again. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” you laugh, setting your bean bag next to the one Jason dropped Tim in. Damian rolls his eyes. “This is a stupid movie. Do people really consume this drivel?”

You scrunch your nose but don’t put too much heart into glaring. Thankfully, color is now returning to your face. “The movie hasn’t even started yet!”

“Relax (y/n), the tiny mutant sperm is just playing elitist,” Steph says, plopping next to Jason and eyeing his bowlful of buttery popcorn.

“As long as it isn’t as bad as the Happening-”

“Dude, you live in a city with Poison Ivy. That thing is pretty much a documentary,” Duke says hesitantly taking the spot between Steph and Cass.

"Please, for the love of Alfie, please, talk about something else," Dick whines, plopping a bean bag next to Tim. Jason’s face twists in confusions before his eyes light up and untwists into an expression with amusement. "Is it because of the-" Dick hits him square in the face with a pillow, all the while screeching "Think of the children!"

"Where, Dickface?" Jason ask, prompting Dick to point(jazz hands) at Damian who rolls his eyes. Jason does the same, looking younger than the toughened exterior suggested. "That's a gremlin, Dickface. Not a child."

"He is-"

"SHUSH! The movie is starting!"

You giggle, curling into Tim's side and placing your head in the crook of his neck where you usually like to put it. Tim's insides shiver from the contact and his hands automatically coil around you, pressing his nose into your hair.

"Jeez, her melons are big," Babs says flatly taking another handful of Dick's popcorn from Damian. Cass snorts and Tim feels embarrassment creep into his skin. He flicks his eyes to you, only to find you smiling into his side.

"They're almost as big as Dick's," you chuckle.

"Nah, Jason is bigger," Cass pipes.

You eye Jason openly which makes the large man cross his arms over his chest. "Huh, you're right," you note with more confusion than anything.

"Bruce has moobs too!" Jason protests, red-faced.

"Son, why?"

The chatter falls silent when the figure at the edge of the room settles itself into the large leather recliner in one corner of the room. You squint your eyes to distinguish its features from the rest of the shadows in the room; only to be greeted by the solemn features of Bruce Wayne. Your breath catches and you feel your skin jump twenty feet in the air. Everyone else in the room seems to have about the same reaction even as he pulls a lever to raise the foot rest. You all follow his movements with interest.

“Is Bruce trying to relax?” Duke whispers to Cass who shrugs in response. Steph rolls her eyes, reaching over Duke to try and snatch some popcorn from Jason who just raises his bowl higher. “Shhhhh, Duke, let the B man try to play human,” she says, snatching at the popcorn til the bowl just falls on Jason’s head.

“He’s trying I guess.” This draws a startled chuckle out of you that you try to press in Tim’s neck. The vibrations against his skin has him shivering.

“B, are you ok?” Dick asks. This makes Bruce’s features move in a slightly concerned fashion which in Bruce speak is very concerned. “Yes, why?”

“Ooooh, no reason, old man.” He turns to Babs. “Yeah that’s not Bruce. Five bucks says it’s a robot.” Babs snickers, grabbing a ten from her purse. “Ten says it’s an alien.” You twist to look at them, taking out a twenty. “Twenty says it’s just Mr.Wayne.” Jason sneers at you, taking your money. “You clearly don’t know the old man.”

“Can we please just watch this film in peace?” Bruce groans, running a hand over his face, finally looking more like the long suffering single dad of eight kids that he should be. Babs looks over her shoulder, slinging Bruce an absolutely disbelieving look. “Do you even know your children?”

“Yes, father, have you even watched us bond?” Damian asks, using his free hand to do air quotes for the word ‘bond’ while using the other to try and swipe some popcorn from Cass. It doesn’t work.

“That definitely isn’t Bruce,” Dick hisses, trying to shield his own bowl of popcorn from an irate Damian.

“SHHHHHH! I can’t hear the movie!”

“It’s definitely the butler,” Dick declares. Damian scowls, throwing a pillow at him which Dick catches with ease. “Grayson, the movie has barely started.”

“It’s definitely the butler. It’s gotta be. It’s always the butler.”

“That’s very offensive to Alfred, Dick,” Cass says, grinning. Alfred sniffs poshly in his own recliner. Dick recoils but Jason piles on. “Very classist of you, Dickiebird.”

Duke snorts. “Nah, I think he’s just saying it because Tim Curry was Pennywise the Clown.”

“Why would you trust a clown?”

“Oh my god, why are you guys comparing Alfred to a clown?”

“We are not!”

“This conversation is a trainwreck,” Tim groans into your hair. “Dunno, Tim, it sounds like a success,” you laugh, pressing closer. His eyes flick between you and his siblings. “You planned this.” You look up at him, failing to flatten a smile. “Nope.”

“I say it’s Ms. Scarlett,” Bruce says, rubbing his chin contemplatively.

“You’re just saying that cus she reminds you of Selina,” Tim huff, grinning and you’re half tempted to pinch his cheeks. Bruce cuts him a scathing look that has you shrinking; the grin on Tim’s face just broadens which just makes the playful scowl on Bruce’s face deepen. “Need I remind you who pays for the internet?”

“Alfred?” Tim asks, innocently.

“Careful Tim, B man might actually do it. Hell, he’ll probably do it if he finds out what you did last Thursday.”

“Do you mean the explosion on Fifth?” you ask, turning to Steph. Steph gives you a firm nod; in the corner of your eye, you can see Bruce arching a brow. Tim gapes at you looking absolutely gutted. “What happened to snitches get stitches?” Tim protests.

You shrug, grinning. “Sorry, Duckie, I stand by my cookie dealer. Who do you think sneaks Duke and me cheetos in Western Civilization? I stand by my fellow barbarian.”

“You know Duke?”

“I pay him to-”

“Shhhhh!”

“You guys are talking too!”

“At least, it’s movie related!” Damian hisses.

You throw up your hands with an exaggerated flail. “Fine!”

“I say it’s the shifty looking lady,” Jason declares, reaching over Duke and Steph to try and snatch some popcorn from Cass. You wonder why Jason doesn’t just snatch some from Alfred since he’s closer. You try to ask Tim but he just shakes his head at you. “Ms.Peacock?” Cass asks, shoving Jason’s face away with butter covered fingers. Duke tries to snatch a few kernels in the confusion only to get his hand swatted. “I think he means Mrs. White,” he says, waving his hand. “Yeah that one.”

“It’s the butler! It’s always butler!” Dick protests.

“I will fucking riot if it’s the butler!” Steph shoots back.

“It can’t be the butler.”

“Why not, Dami? He has motive.”

Damian rolls his eyes.“Gordon, why are you siding with Grayson?-” Babs opens her mouth to answer but Damain continues before she can get another syllable out “-nevermind. He doesn’t have as much motive as the rest of them. Besides, does he really look competent enough to hold a gun left alone with a knife?”

Tim raises his chin from your head. “Demon Spawn, your standards for butlers is too high. Alfred is-”

“You say this like you have plenty of references.”

“Oh, Tommy Terrific, Duckie here is a posh bastard,” Jason sneers ruffling Tim’s hair. From the way, some of his hairs stick up you could guess that he still had some butter in his hand. Tim makes a face of disgust; you try your best to help him with his hair. “Jay, you say that but you’re like Mr. I need the correct type of wood for my bookshelves,” Steph laughs. “Just because I’m not a slob like the rest of you walking disasters doesn’t mean I’m posh.”

“Yes, it does. You lived here. Yanno with Alfie,” Dick says, pulling out another pack of snacks he’d managed to snag from your bag. You’re not gonna ask at this point. Tim gives you a look which roughly translates to ‘I am very sorry for my trainwreck of a family’. You snort at him before turning towards his sibling. “I mean look at Cass. She’s still feral.” If looks could kill, the look Cass give you would melt your bones. Thankfully, Damian opens his mouth. “They’re all feral.” You have a sense that you’ve also been insulted. You hear Babs to your right laugh derisively. “You say this like you’re any less feral than the rest of us.”

“I am-”

“Are any of you still watching the movie?” Bruce asks and for the second time that night, your body tries to divorce your soul. You had almost forgotten that yes, you are watching Clue with the fucking Batman. You shift in your seat suddenly feeling a twinge of nervousness. Before the discomfort could nestle in you, Jason speaks up. “No, Bruce, we’re just watching Cass vacuum the popcorn into her stomach. What do you think?”

“You guys didn’t ask,” Cass says through a mouthful of popcorn knowing full well that’s a lie.

“How can any of you be watching it? All you’ve done is talk over the dialogue.” You almost laugh at how exasperated he sounds. Beside you, Tim just snickers and shakes his head.

Damian just looks at his father from his bean bag next to Dick. “Father, we can talk and listen. ” Dick, like the mature adult that he is, slaps his knee laughing. “I don’t think B is capable of that.”

“PREACH” was followed by a chorus of AMENs.

"Alfred, what have I done to turn my children against me?" Bruce asks, tiredly leaning back into his recliner.

"Master Bruce, how would you like me to list it?"

"Alfred not you too," Bruce groans, putting his hands in his eyes.

"Yeah! Alfie's on our side!" Jason cheers.

"Quite."

"Alfie is always the sensible one," Cass chuckles sensibly between bites. You hear varying noises of agreement and Bruce ages from suave debonair to extremely tired single dad.

"I assume Alfred is actually the boss here."

"Yeah, Bruce is actually on the bottom of the food chain here," Tim says. You tilt your head in contemplation. "Yanno that makes Batman so much less scary."

"B-man's just a giant softie," Steph chirps, slinging her legs over Duke and Cass's laps narrowly missing the nearly empty bowl of popcorn.

Dick turns to you winking. "Yeah, just give him the puppy eyes and he'll get you anything you want in 2 seconds flat."

"Dick…"

"It's true!"

"Even a carnival?"

"Can we please just watch the movie?" Bruce says, in an almost pleading voice.

"I wouldn't hold my breath, old man," Jason chuckles, earning a glare from both Bruce and Damian. "It's not like you know how to shut up, Todd."

"Sorry, I don’t speak gremlin."

"That's bull Jay!"

"MOVIE IS STILL GOING ON! SHUT YOUR CAKE HOLES."

“I TOLD YOU IT WAS THE BUTLER.”

“Yes, yes, it has been publiced and noted, Birdie,” you giggle into Tim’s side, shaking your head. He wraps his arm around you, pressing a kiss into your hair, winking at you. “Does it count?” Tim asks over his shoulder. A look passes between him and Cass. “I don’t think so,” she says grinning.

“It so does! It’s one of the endings,” Dick protests vehemently. Jason’s mouth flattens then curls into a grin. “By that logic, the old man is right too.”

Dick thinks for a moment, tapping his chin. “Well, we can’t have that.”

“Why not?” Bruce protests.

"I'm still sticking with the butler. I'm sorry this is the only logical conclusion."

"He wasn't even an actual butler you butter brain!" Steph protests, throwing a pillow at Dick.

"I'm sorry but can we address why you're all mounting a mutiny against me?"

"Teenage rebellion!" Dick answers.

"Chum, you're not even a teenager."

"Father's right. At most, Grayson is five years old," Damian pipes from beside Dick seemingly unaffected by his brother's pout.

"Alfred, you're going to have to check my blood pressure before patrol."

"Quite, sir."

“They’re all so dramatic just like you said,” you whisper into Tim’s shoulder.

“I AM NOT DRAMATIC”

“Ah, yes, because the pretty man pose is so pragmatic.” Damian deadpan.

"That was one time, you assholes!"

"Hey, what else did Timmy say?"

"Well he- Oh wait!" You fish out your phone and Tim snacthes it away faster than you can blink. "No-" cough "-you don't." Cough.

Jason snatches it from him, snickering at the photo of Tim kissing you on the cheek. You're pretty sure Tim has a matching photo with you kissing him on the cheek. "Nice lockscreen, (y/n)."

"Oh, you should see the homescreen!"

"No. Please don't. You might need eye bleach."

"Relax Space Cadet, it’s not that one."

"Ohohoho, what didn't you want big daddy bats to see? Haaa, Timbo?"

Tim turns every shade of red before settling on fire hydrant red. "None of your business!"

Bruce clears his throat, looking at a stupidly expensive watch. “It’s time.” Dick springs up, stretching and showing off. “Is it really that time already?” Steph asks in almost a whine. Duke and Cass take the opportunity to shove her off and sadly, she lands with a loud thud and a mangled curse. You wince but laugh unsympathetically which simply earns you a face full of dust covered popcorn. You frown at her and she grins at you as Jason hauls her up by her hoodie. “C’mon Blondie. Let’s leave the love birds alone.”

“It’s not like they’re actually gonna be alone. Alfie’s here. So is Babs.”

“I’m going back to my place. You people give me a headache.”

“You say that like you weren’t having fun,” Dick teases, walking after her.

“I’ll be down in the cave if you need me,” Alfred says waving at both of you. “Will do, Alf,” Tim yawns, nuzzling into your hair.

Cass pops her head back in. “Make sure Tim doesn’t do anything stupid,” She calls back. You grin, bright and wolfish. “Don’t worry! He can’t do me while he’s sick.” You hear Bruce choke in the hall and you just know that you’ll mentally kick yourself for that later. Luckily for you, Tim physically kicks you now. “What the hell?!” Cough. “Sorry, got caught in the moment.” You huff, trying to look a little sorry. Tim just glares more. “You’re not even close to sorry.”

“Ok. Yeah.”

“I have no idea why I love you sometimes.”

“My amazing personality?”

“Sure.”

“Love you too, Tim,” you chirp, kissing him. Tim’s lips feel hot after the quick peck and he pulls you closer. “I love you but I was pretty sure my family was gonna eat you alive.”

“They would have done it,” you hum, pausing before adding, “respectfully.”

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

#tim drake imagines #tim drake x reader #Tim Drake #batfamily x reader #batfam #reader insert #dc fanfiction #dc reader insert #bruce wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #dick grayson #Damian Wayne #Jason Todd #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #batman #batfamily headcanon #batboys

175 notes · View notes

petersasteria · 4 years ago

Text

What You Don't Know Won't Hurt - Tom Holland

Tom || Main || Taglist

Pairing: Tom x Chalamet!Reader Requested? Nah 4,289 words

* * * *

“Happy five-month anniversary!” You whispered in Tom’s ear as you hugged him from behind. He smiled and turned around to pull you in for a short, but sweet kiss.

“Happy five-month anniversary to you too, babe.” He said softly with a bright smile on his face. “I spoke to your brother.”

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows before pulling away from him to prepare breakfast for you and Tom. “What did you talk about?”

Tom shrugged, “Nothing important. He greeted us, that’s for sure. He’s inviting me to hang out with his friends, actually. Should I go?”

“Do you want to go?” You asked and he nodded slightly. “Then, go for it. When is that supposed to be?”

“Tomorrow after lunch.” Tom answered and you nodded. Both of you prepared breakfast and ate breakfast. You didn’t eat that much because you knew you’d puke it all out later. You’re two weeks pregnant and you wanted to tell Tom later tonight.

You and Tom haven’t been confirming your relationship to the public despite being seen together for a bunch of times. That’s about to change, though.

You and Tom were caught by the paparazzi and it was normal for both of you, but what you didn’t know is that you two were caught kissing and that caused so much reaction from the media. When you two got home from your shared flat, you were surprised that your relationship was outed by the paps. It was something that surprised both of you. You had no problem with that because you didn’t want to hide anymore. Tom, however, was fucked.

Tom’s phone rang and he glanced at the caller ID and quickly went to your shared room to answer it. You didn’t even have the time to ask who it was because he just bolted straight in the room. You didn’t mind, though. It was probably his manager or publicist or someone important from his team.

It was his girlfriend, Nadia.

Tom answered the phone immediately. “Na-”

“When were you planning on telling me that you’re cheating on me? Did you even want to tell me?” Nadia asked. She was mad and rightfully so.

“I was planning on telling you, but-”

“Cut the bullshit.” She said angrily. “It’s so unfair that you and her have gone public, but you haven’t gone public with me and we’ve been together for a year.”

“I was planning on leaving her, I swear!” Tom hissed.

“You leave me with no choice, Tom. Goodbye.” She said before hanging up. Tom let out a frustrated sigh as he sat on the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands and just sat there.

A few minutes later, his phone’s blowing up with notifications from Instagram. He clicked on it and was shocked to see Nadia’s post about her relationship with him. He scrolled through each comment and he was hurt that everyone started going against him.

Timmy saw the post and sent it to you. You were confused as to who Nadia was but when you looked through the pictures and read her caption, you realized she was Tom’s girlfriend. His real girlfriend. You went up to your shared room and saw him sitting on the bed with a shocked face.

“You didn’t have the decency to tell me that you were taken?” You whispered as tears streamed down your face. You didn’t have the energy to speak loudly. “All this time, I thought you were single when we met because that’s what you told me. Everyone’s going to think that I’m the snake who took you away from her, don’t you realize that?”

“That’s not my problem.” He said before getting up and grabbing a suitcase to pack his things. “We’re done, Y/N. I lost her because of you.”

“Wait a second.” You grabbed his arm and he looked at you. “Why are you acting like it’s all my fault? There’s two of us in this relationship! It’s your fault too!”

Tom went back to packing and said nothing. You watched as he moved around the room to grab his things. You suddenly felt sick to your stomach when you realized that you’re carrying this man’s baby.

“You came on to me!” Tom shouted and you flinched at the sound of his voice. He was angry.

“No, that’s not true and you know it! Don’t twist this!” You shouted back. “How dare you blame me for something I didn’t know! If I knew you were taken, we wouldn’t be where we are right now!”

Tom was finished packing his things when he stared at you one last time. He took in your features. Like your older brother, you had a face that made you look like you came straight out of a renaissance painting. In truth, Tom was lucky he was graced to wake up next to a beauty such as yourself.

“Look, I’m sorry. I have to go.” Tom sighed as he grabbed his suitcase and left your shared apartment. You knew he was going to try and get his girlfriend back. You stared at the man you loved as he left your shared flat without another word.

News broke out and Tom defended himself saying shit about you and that he was working on apologizing to his true love which he did. He even got her back and vowed not to do it again. He still got his job and because of all the attention he got, he was being asked to take on roles left and right.

You got the short end of the stick, though. Everyone thought you were a liar and the few people who defended you were facing backlash for being on your side causing them to leave you. Your parents had no say and your sister just dismissed you. Timmy stayed by your side and he never left. He even defended you when no one else would.

This caused a rivalry between Tom and Timmy. Timmy took it personally because even he didn’t know that Tom was taken and Tom promised him that he’d care for you and love you. Tom, of course, didn’t let it faze him. He was still a jackass.

Meanwhile, your pregnancy was going well. The baby was healthy and Timmy has been very supportive. He’s the best uncle in the world, in your opinion. You still get casted for some roles, but you asked them to hide your pregnancy and you were thankful that no one said a thing.

The media still wasn’t so nice to you, though. Since they didn’t know you were pregnant, they assumed that you let yourself go after Tom left you. They made rumors about you having breast implants, you gained so much weight after Tom left, and so much more. This pissed Timmy off because he kept asking you to clear the rumors and just tell them you’re pregnant.

“I don’t want to, okay?! I want this baby out of the spotlight! You saw how the media treated me and I admit that it’s shitty, but can you imagine how the media will treat my baby?! They won’t be so kind and we both know that.” You frowned. “I don’t want Tom to know either.”

“Fine.” Timmy nodded. “Don’t stress yourself, okay? How’s the baby?” He asked as he sat next to you.

You smiled and looked at him, “The baby’s fine and I know the gender.”

“Spill!” Timmy said in excitement. His eyes sparkled and he was happy.

“I’m having a boy.” You grinned.

“Ahh!” Timmy screamed in joy. “Tu as un fils! (you are having a son)” You laughed and nodded as he pulled you in for a hug.

A son. You’re having a son. He’s the center of your world.

A year later, Beau Julien Chalamet is now turning 1. He was very playful and he was always laughing. It brought you joy despite having a tough work life. You were thankful that Beau took almost all your features which made him really look like a true Chalamet. In short, his name suited him well.

Today is Beau’s 1st birthday and you were celebrating in your flat. Your sister will come over later and Timmy won’t be able to come because he was halfway across the world to attend an awards show. You were now waiting for his call while Beau watched Sesame Street in the living room.

You were looking at Beau with an amusing smile as he danced around to the song Elmo was singing on tv. Your phone rang in your hand and you glanced down to see that Timmy wanted to FaceTime you. You smiled and quickly answered, “Hi, Timmy!”

“Hey!” He grinned. “Where’s the birthday boy?”

“Il regarde la télé! (he is watching tv)” You turned the camera to Beau and he was watching while dancing. Timmy laughed and you turned the camera back at you. “I thought you’re at an awards show.”

“Yeah, it was. It’s the after party now and I’m in the men’s room so that it’s quiet. Everyone’s having fun out there and I figured they’d be too busy to go to the bathroom.” Timmy explained.

You nodded, “Tu es intelligent. (you are intelligent)”

“Merci beaucoup.” He said with a playful smile on his face. “Anyway, I want to speak to the birthday boy!”

You grinned and called over your son. You pulled him on your lap and he instantly smiled when he saw his favorite (and only) uncle in the whole world. “Who’s that?” You asked Beau.

“Timmy!” Beau said with a cute smile which made yours and Timmy’s heart soar. Timmy was his first word and your brother will never not let go of that.

“Hey, buddy! I miss you so much!” Timmy pouted. “When I come back there, I’ll give you lots of presents. Okay?”

“‘Kay!” Beau smiled. He can repeat the last syllables of words, but he can say ‘mama’ and ‘Timmy’ really well. It was weird, but hey, every kid is different.

You, Timmy, and Beau kept talking for a few minutes. On the other line, Timmy didn’t notice Tom entering the bathroom. Tom has never seen Timmy ever since the incident and seeing your brother made Tom nervous. He noticed that Timmy was talking to you and he hid in one of the cubicles to listen.

“Y/N, you don’t have to worry about me giving gifts to him. He’s my nephew! I’m allowed to spoil him. Plus, that’s mom and dad’s first grandchild.” Timmy said.

“I know. I’m just telling you not to spoil him. I can’t afford those things and he might go looking for them.” You told him which made Timmy sigh.

“That’s why I’m here and that’s why I’m his godfather. Besides, who else is going to do that? His deadbeat dad? No fucking way, Y/N.” Timmy shook his head. “I swear I’ll beat him up, but at the same time I’ll thank him for giving you Beau.”

“Don’t beat him up, but thank him for me too.” You said. “Well, I have to go. Pauline is coming over in a few minutes and Beau is making a mess in the living room right now.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to you later before you go to bed.” Timmy said.

“Okay. Bye! Beau, say goodbye to Timmy.” You smiled as Beau walked over to you and showed his face to Timmy. He gave Timmy a toothy grin and said, “Bye!”

“Bye!” Timmy smiled and flew him a kiss through the screen. “Bye, Y/N/N. Take care.”

“You too.” You smiled before hanging up.

Timmy put his phone in his pocket and washed his hands. Tom emerged from one of the cubicles and stared at Timmy. Timmy looked up and saw Tom through the mirror. They stared at each other and Tom cleared his throat and said, “H-How are-”

“Skip the formalities and tell me what the fuck you want.” Timmy hissed. He turned around to face Tom and he crossed his arms.

Tom gulped and took a deep breath. “Y/N has a son?”

“Why does that matter?” Timmy raised an eyebrow.

“Is he mine?” Tom asked.

“Everything related to my sister and my own sister will never be yours. Excuse me.” Timmy said angrily before leaving Tom in the bathroom.

Tom looked at the door where Timmy left and he pulled out his phone to call Sam who was back at home and because he conveniently lived near you.

“Hello?” Sam answered. “I thought you’re at an awards show.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Tom said quickly. “You live near Y/N, right?”

Sam was silent on the other line before speaking again, “Why? Are you planning on getting on with her again? Because if you are, at least break up with Nadia first. What you did was fucked. You’re lucky mum and dad love you.”

“That’s not it, Sam. I think she’s hiding something from me. I overheard her brother saying something about having a nephew and the kid having a deadbeat dad. I’m the deadbeat dad, Sam. I think she hid that from me.” Tom said.

“Are you drunk?” Sam asked in concern. “You know, I think you’re an alcoholic.”

“I’m not fucking drunk, Sam! Just check. Please.” Tom begged.

“I can’t just show up at her place a year later! That’ll be weird. What will I say?” Sam shrieked in panic.

“Tell her that I told you to get something of mine that’s still there and then look around. Tell her that I must’ve left my jacket there.”

“Are you hearing yourself?!” Sam shouted. “That’s fucking weird! You left your jacket and you want it back a year later??? Do you know how suspicious that sounds?! Just straight up ask her!”

“I don’t have her number!” Tom hissed.

“Grow a pair and ask her brother! I won’t help you do your dirty work. Besides, if she did have a child that she hid from you, she has a reason for doing so. If she wants to keep the kid away from you, then she has every right to do that.” Sam told him.

Sam had a point. A minute later, Tom hung up and exited the bathroom to find Timmy. He looked around and he couldn’t find him anywhere. When he asked Timmy’s friend, they told him that he left. It devastated Tom.

A week later, Timmy flew to London to stay with you for a couple weeks. Because he hasn’t seen Beau in a while, he decided to go on a roadtrip with Beau to somewhere far away so you can have some alone time. Your alone time was ruined when someone knocked on your door. You looked through the peephole and furrowed your eyebrows when you saw Tom.

“What the fuck.” You said as soon as you opened the door.

“Hey, Y/N.” Tom said with his hands in his pockets. “May I come in?”

“No.” You said and closed the door, but Tom stopped it with his foot. You inwardly groaned and opened the door again to face him. “What?”

“Where’s my son?” Tom asked.

Inheriting your great acting skills from your older brother, you acted like you didn’t know what he was talking about. “What the fuck are you talking about?” You asked.

“Don’t bullshit me. I overheard Timmy talking to you last week. He was talking about a nephew and a deadbeat dad.” Tom snapped.

“Why are you listening to conversations that don’t concern you?” You asked angrily. Tom shook his head and invited himself inside your flat. You rolled your eyes and sarcastically said, “Sure, come in. Be my guest and make yourself at home, will you?”

You closed the door and walked to the living room as Tom walked around the flat in search of a little boy that he hoped would resemble him. He found the room he once shared with you and saw a crib there. He went back to the living room and asked, “Where is he?”

“It doesn’t concern you.” You simply said.

“I have every right to know because I’m his father!” Tom shouted.

“You just gave me your sperm and I did all the work with the help of my brother. You’re technically a sperm donor, Thomas.” You said with your arms crossed. “Besides, you went back to your girl. I didn’t have the time to tell you.”

“You could’ve-”

“No, I couldn’t. Do you know how that’ll turn out? It’ll be messy! You have a relationship to prioritize and I can’t imagine how she’ll feel when finds out that the girl you cheated on her with is having your baby! That would totally suck! I was thinking of her more than you because she’s been through so much hurt. I wish I could apologize to her, but she probably hates me.” You admitted.

“Fuck that shit. You could’ve told me! When was I supposed to see him? Huh? You took him away from me! I want my son and I have every right to have him! You're so selfish!" Tom yelled angrily.

Tears streamed down your face as you looked at him while you sat on the couch. You took a deep breath and calmly said, "You got your girl back. You got all your dream roles and you are constantly wanted by directors for their movies. You have friends and family who are supportive of you. You have parents who love you and cherish you because according to them, you're the best thing that's ever happened to them. You have all the money in the world to support yourself and there's no doubt that you'll be financially secure for the next ten years. You have everything that I've always wanted."

"Tom, I don't have anyone by my side; I'm single. I've been single ever since you left me. I never got my dream roles and I rarely get casted for anything and if I do get casted, I play either a whore or a mistress because that's what the public sees me as. My whole reputation is now tainted as 'Tom Holland's side chick' and the media will forever portray me as that. It wasn't even my fault because you never told me that you were in a relationship that was hidden from the public."

"Ever since news broke out about you cheating on your girlfriend with me, I lost all my friends. They're all disgusted with me now and everyone thinks I'm a liar when I tell them that I never knew you were taken. My parents? They don't like me; they never did. I may be the youngest, but I was a mistake that they decided to keep because my siblings wanted me. My parents never loved me and they never supported me. I'm the worst thing that's ever happened to them. I don't have all the money in the world because like I said, I rarely get casted for anything. I don't want to live off of my brother's money because he worked hard for it. I struggle to make ends meet and I struggle to find work and I'm doing my best at that while being a single mother for MY son."

You sighed as you wiped the hot tears that never stopped falling from your eyes. "My son is the best thing that's ever happened to me and he's the ONE THING I did right. He's also the one good thing that came out of our little mistake. I don't know what I'd do without him. He's the only one I have and you want to take him away from me? Hell, he's the reason why I'm alive right now. When I look at him, I want to be better so he can have better. You don't understand that, Tom. Just because you're a hot shot doesn't mean you can get everything that you want."

"I just want to be with him. I want him to live with me for a while." Tom said.

"Over my dead body, Thomas." You said sternly. "You can't just strut in here like you own the place. I'm sorry you had to find out through someone else, but I won't let you take him from me."

"Were you planning on telling me?" He asked and you shook your head.

"You told me that being with me was a mistake and that you didn't want anything that has to do with me. So, I kept my mouth shut when I found out. I hid it well and when I did an indie film where I was, you guessed it, a mistress, I was already 5 months pregnant. But I hid it well."

"I just want to help you because I was absent in this child's life."

"I got through it with the help of my siblings, especially Timmy, but I did most of it alone. If I can do it alone now until the rest of my life, I'll do it. I don't need you."

"The kid needs a father and that's me."

"No, he doesn't. You're just thinking that because it's like a trophy for you."

"That's not true." Tom shook his head. "My parents want grandkids and he's my son. I want them to know him."

"They can have grandkids the right way. My son was born out of marriage. I'm sure they'd want their grandkid to be a legitimate child." You told him before getting up from the couch and walking to the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water.

"Lock the door on your way out, Thomas." You called out from the kitchen before drinking water. Tom sighed before leaving and slamming the door on his way out. ‘The audacity of that man.’ you thought as you shook your head.

Tom went to the pub with the boys and told them everything. Sam shook his head and said, “You pushed through it?! You pushed through your stupid plan of seeing her?! That’s really stupid!”

“Watch your mouth, Sam.” Tom spat.

“You shouldn’t have done that. Besides, she’s right. Nadia will be really hurt if she found out that Y/N’s having your baby. If Y/N can do it without you, she can manage. Just leave her alone. At least you know.”

“Yes, but I want to see him at least. I missed one year of his life. I want to be there for him forever.” Tom frowned.

“You can’t.” Sam shook his head.

“I agree.” Harry nodded. “You ruined Y/N’s reputation and that kid is the only thing that holds Y/N together. She kept it a secret because she wants it all to herself because the media will say shit about her again. If you’re in the kid’s life, you’ll be exposing him to the dangers of the media. She’s just being a mum and that means she’s not risking it.”

“Well said, Harry.” Harrison nodded. “He has a point. You’re not good at keeping secrets either.”

“So what should I do?” Tom asked.

“Nothing.” Tuwaine answered. “Don’t do shit until Y/N says so. Besides, her brother can straight up kill you because you broke her heart and you’re forcing yourself in her son’s life like nothing happened. You’d be a dead man. Imagine the headlines.”

Harrison laughed, “It’s hilarious; ‘Tom Holland killed by Timothée Chalamet’! You’re sending yourself to your own grave, mate.”

Tom sighed heavily as his brothers and friends laughed at his misery.

You told Timmy about Tom’s visit and it angered him. You had to stop him from going to Tom’s flat to give him a piece of his mind. You assured him that Tom wouldn’t bother anymore and that it’s up to you if you want Beau to know who his father is.

It wasn’t until you got your big acting break that you revealed Beau to the public. You’ve been casted in a big movie alongside Timmy and you’ve never been happier. You confided with Timmy and he agreed that it was time to reveal Beau.

You saw Tom’s comment on your Instagram post and ignored it. It’s his first time seeing how Beau looks and he’s probably shocked that Beau doesn’t look like him. Tom messaged you on Instagram and you didn’t want to reply at first, but you figured that it’s been years. Beau is now 4 years old and you knew it was time to let go of your past. It was time for a new chapter. You replied to his message on Instagram and began talking.

With Timmy’s advice and consultation, you allowed Tom to meet Beau and if he wants to, he can visit him every other weekend as long as he follows your rules.

You finally spoke to Nadia about your past issue and now both of you are okay. She believed every word you said and you thanked her for that. She even said that Beau was a very bright child with a great future ahead of him.

Tom wasn’t around all the time due to his schedule, but whenever he’s in the country with a free schedule, he makes sure to give it to Beau. They may not be as close as Tom would like, but at least they were getting along.

You moved on with your life and you finally got everything that you wished for. You got your dream roles, your parents were finally trying to have a decent relationship with you, your sister was around you more, the media was finally asking your side of the story to clear your name, you’re financially secure, Timmy finally moved in with you to help you with Beau, and you started dating someone again. Life is great.

* * * *

sorry if the ending shitty

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag @cocoamoonmalfoy @thatforgottenangel @parkerpeter24 @turtoix @slutforsr @givebuckyhisplumsnow @buckys-little-hoe @runawayolives @chewymoustachio @hollandsrecs @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @yourstrulyamour @juliediggory @lharrietg @alexx-stancati @rumplebutterbaby @dummiesshort @spideyspeaches @thevelvetseries @buckymylove @quxxnxfhxll @marvelsimps @dreamy-clousds @bora-world @hunnybunimdun @supred12 @more-like-reyna @caitsymichelle13

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @holland-styles @trustfundparker @calltothewild @felicityparkers @hufflepuffprincess24 @tommysparker @justasmisunderstoodasloki @quaksonhehe @call-me-baby-gir1 @itstaskeen @theonly1outof-a-billion @lost-in-the-stars03 @justafangirlduh @piscesparker @speedymaximoff @miraclesoflove @lexirv @blairscott @getbywithasmile @pqrkerr @lavender-writer @blackbat2020 @hoodpankow @bi-lmg

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland one shots #tom holland angst #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh #chalamet!reader #timothee chamalet

142 notes · View notes

thebadchoicemachine · 3 years ago

Text

found my old au and picked some ones that still fit

Philza

He just fucking tosses people into the sky instead of being upset with them. Do anything he doesn’t like? SWOOSH. It’s to the point it’s not even a malicious thing, it’s just routine. He gets up, goes to the store, picks up some groceries, sends a person who cut in line to a void of dusk with swirling black clouds where you fall so long you can’t tell if you’re flying up or down or left or right, maybe gets some mints, goes home, puts groceries away, does the dishes, etc.

Tubbo

A Corruption Avatar (TW, Body Horror Surrounding Lungs, Swarming Insects, Implied Murder.)

He has bees in his lungs and he loves them very much. If he ever gets something stuck in his throat or has water go down the wrong pipe he will FEAK OUT. He often has to cough up honey (and sometimes bees). It’s... a process. He just sits over a bucket or jar and hacks his little heart out. He sometimes saves the honey and offers it to people. Amazingly, his friends never take him up on the offer. Unsuspecting people who don’t know the.. supernatural origin of the honey find they have some... unpleasant side effects. (Bees. The side effect is bees. Specifically ones trying to fly down their throat.)

Oh well, being a part of a hive isn’t for everyone. The really unfortunate ones make good fertilizer for his flowers, though!

His lungs are literally a hive. If you tried to listen to his heartbeat you’d hear buzzing. He will sometimes hold flowers over his open mouth to let the bees get some easy pollen. He doesn’t usually actively seek out “prey” but when he is trying to feed on that good old fear he’ll act super sweet, too sweet, and then open his mouth and let the bees fly out. It’s very creepy but to him it’s just funny. (Also, all of the bees have names and he has a funeral for every single one that get’s killed.)

Quackity

A Stranger Avatar (TW, Unreality Depersonalization )

He mocks people as their own reflection, hopping from pond to mirror to camera to scream at them (sometimes literally) that they do not know who they are. It starts off subtle (Wasn’t your hair a bit longer? Weren’t your eyes a shade lighter? Did you always have that birthmark?”) but grows and changes until it gets to the point you stand in front of a mirror and every time you blink you look completely different.

You feel your face, you look at your hands, but it’s no help. They change too fast. Your pictures change too, every single post on all your social media looks like different people posted it- wait... did you always have this platform? You don’t remember ever using it before. You have so many posts... none of them match up. You throw your phone away, noticing you never had the case on it.

You turn to real photos for help but they are none. Of course not. You feel like just giving up as you shuffle through photo after photo, you don’t know what you really look like, so what? But then something catches your eye. A photo of you in the 5th grade concert. You don’t remember going to that school. You’ve never played an instrument, have you? Something screams yes and no at the same time. You throw the box down and grab your phone. You need to call someone.

You pace throughout a house you recognize less and less searching for clues, reminders, as the phone rings. Your best friend answers. You throw the phone down again. You don’t have a best friend. You’ve never really been one for friends. No, that’s not true, you had a few really good ones but you’ve grown apart. No, that’s not true, you only have one real friend, your boyfriend. No, you don’t have a boyfriend, just a close friend. No, you have many friends just none that are close enough for this bullshit.

You stop. No. No you don’t like swearing, do you? Do you? Who are you? Who are you?

Your reflection laughs.

Technoblade

1. A Hunt Avatar (TW, Stalking/Genocide)

Many people have suggested a slaughter avatar but I don’t get it. Yeah, he kills (blood for the blood god and all that) but I don’t see it. The Slaughter is about the moment. The unplanned snap. The sudden outbursts. I don’t see that in techno. You know what I DO see that also involves quite a bit of bloodlust? The chase. The planning, the target, the unstoppable dread and panic that overtakes his victims once they realize who is after them. The power. Calculated genocide of victim after victim. The HUNT. My two pain points of evidence: His potato war videos, that time he took over the world, and his stalking speech to Quackity. Go watch an animatic of Technoblade chasing down Quackity and tell me he is not a Hunt Avatar.

Wilbur

A Desolation Avatar (TW, Abuse/Torture)

Everything he touches burns and hurts. Sometimes it’s on purpose, sometimes on accident, but either way he’s caught up in enjoying the drama. I’m gonna be honest, my main inspiration was the Villainbur aesthetic but the more I thought about it the more it made sense. Look at nearly any of his 100 player videos; designed to create maximum pain for his enjoyment. Even the Dream SMP where he was mostly a good guy and more tragic than anything else fits. Maybe that Villain Arc was his first dabble as a willing avatar of destruction and pain. Even making his own father kill him could have been along the lines of “how can I milk as much despair out of this as possible.”

#unreality #Torture tw #violence tw #dsmp tma au

50 notes · View notes

thefallennightmare · 4 years ago

Text

Dorogaya [8/?]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Words: 1200

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, angst, and some smut.

Summary: It has been sometime since Y/N and Bucky went into hiding but now their past is returning. Can this new relationship survive the Civil War that’s about to happen?

Tags: @capstopavenger @empath-bunny @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything

A/N: Here is the next chapter!

The jet landed a few moments ago and I stood next to Bucky as he carefully chose a gun from Natasha’s collection. His shoulders tensed, the looming fight approaching, and I laid my hand on his lower back.

“Are you alright?” I questioned.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

I knew he was lying but also knew not to press him in these kinds of situations. My feet turned to walk away but his fingers slipped a knife in the pocket of my suit.

“Ready?” Steve asked once the ramp opened, the cold Russian air chilling us to the bone.

I nodded then followed behind the two super soldiers; Bucky’s gun held high and Steve blocking us with the shield. The snow crunched beneath our boots as we came to a stop in front of the door of the old building; it was already opened.

“He couldn’t have been here more than a few hours,” Steve noted.

“Just enough time to wake them up,” Bucky said.

He motioned for me to step between the two of them as we entered the building. There was a cold chill throughout the building; nothing to do with the coldness outside. We entered the small elevator, and I squeezed between the two of them. Bucky was at my back while Steve stood in front. The warmth of Bucky’s breath caused my skin to prickle and Steve watched with slight jealousy as Bucky placed a chaste kiss on my ear.

I smiled brightly at his silent cue and when my eyes met with Steve, his jaw set hard. He gave us a curt nod, making sure that we had our heads in the game. Bucky and I both nodded, letting him know that we were ready for what was about to happen.

The elevator doors opened, Steve stepping off first, and we looked around the deserted building. Everything was coming back to me in flashes, the familiar halls and corridors. Knowing what that door led to or what was down that hall.

“Doll?” Bucky looked over his shoulder to me as he led us towards a staircase.

“I’m okay,” I reassured him with a nod.

A loud bang from behind caused us all to jump, Bucky pulling me closer to him with his gun held high. Steve kneeled in front of me with his shield as we prepared for the reason behind the bang.

“Fucking Christ Tony, you scared the shit out of us,” I cursed towards the man in the iron suit.

Steve stepped forward, them having their own conversation while I stayed in front of Bucky, who still had his gun raised towards Tony. After our fight at the airport, Bucky wasn’t taking any chances.

“There’s a truce here, you can drop it,” Tony told Bucky.

I gently pushed the gun down and Bucky sighed, leaning against the wall. He motioned behind him, muttering that we need to keep moving.

The four of us walked past an all too familiar room and I had to pause, remembering the horrors.

The training room where Bucky had trained me.

“C’mon,” Bucky gently gripped my elbow to pull me along. “It’s not good to remember.”

However, as soon as we entered the main part of the building, it was Bucky’s turn to freeze for a moment. We came face to face with the chair that Bucky had a permanent residence in all those years ago.

“I’ve got heat signatures,” Tony commented.

“How many?” Steve asked.

“Uh, one.”

They didn’t notice the look of horror on Bucky’s face so with a gentle tug on his elbow, like the one he gave me, I pulled him along. He hesitated for a second before nodding. The gun was raised as we walked up to the cyro chambers.

“What the hell?” He muttered.

I could feel his own heart beat through my own chest, the cyro chambers scaring him.

The six cyro chambers had bullet holes in them; right in the middle of the super soldiers' foreheads.

“If it’s any comfort,” a voice came over a speaker, “They all died in their sleep.”

Pulling the knife out of my suit, I flipped it a few times, getting ready for whatever was coming.

“Do you really think I wanted more of you two hydra soldiers?” The voice said again, now knowing it was the doctor.

Helmut Zemo.

“I am grateful for them, though. They brought you here.”

Steve stood face to face with Zemo, who was hiding behind a chamber that could withstand a nuclear blast.

“You killed innocent people in Vienna to bring us here. Why?” Steve asked.

I could feel the regret fill Bucky’s bones so I squeezed his biceps, letting him know that it’s alright. As Steve and Zemo talked, my attention turned to them with their last sentence.

“I have lost everyone. Now, so will you,” Zemo clicked on a T.V next to Steve.

Even though the letters on the screen were foreign, I immediately recognized the date.

December 16th, 1991.

The feeling of regret and self hatred filled my veins and looking over to Bucky, his eyes dropped, refusing to meet my gaze. He walked away from us as Steve, Tony, and I started to watch the video.

It was from a security camera panning to a dirt road.

“I know that road,” Tony stuttered. “What is this?”

He demanded his question towards Zemo, who remained silent.

I watched side by side with Tony, both in horror when a car came out of nowhere and slammed into a tree. A man on a motorcycle came up, stepping off with large strides towards the car. My breath caught in my throat when I immediately recognized the metal arm on screen as it broke the necks of the two people in the car.

Those two people were Mr. and Mrs. Stark; Tony’s parents.

The Winter Soldier had killed Tony’s parents.

Bucky’s jaw tensed when we finally met each other's gaze so I left Tony’s side, walking over to him. I placed a hand on his cheek, the feeling of self hatred becoming almost too much to bear. No matter if he wasn’t that man anymore, it still pained him to know that he did it.

My heart shattered, seeing the tears welling in his eyes.

“I don’t hate you,” I murmured, answering the silent plea in his eyes.

He pulled away from my touch, not allowing himself to feel anything other than the loathe he was forcing himself to feel.

Tony’s dark eyes sliced into Bucky, lifting his hand ready to shoot. As Bucky raised his gun to protect himself, I stood in front of him, ready to protect Bucky with my life; hands sparking to life with fire.

Steve held Tony to stop him. “No, Tony.”

He looked over to Steve. “You knew?”

Steve could only nod.

My stomach dropped at that revelation.

“You knew and didn’t tell me?” I asked, dumbfounded. “You kept this from us?”

“I didn’t know it was him,” Steve started.

I shook my head. “Bullshit. You fucking knew!”

Tony remained silent, trying to process everything. Before I knew exactly what was happening, Tony had hit Steve, tossing him across the floor.

This was the one fight that none of us wanted to have.

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes and reader #reader insert #sebastian stan #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst

113 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Secrets ~ 3

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance.

Note: Finished this before work! Hope y’all enjoy.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

There was a flurry of activity around the jet waiting on the tarmac. You sat in the car, still cuffed, trapped, as you watched the crew hurry. It was barely noon yet and you were exhausted. Barnes returned and slid in the other side. You ignored him and kept your eyes out the window.

“Shouldn’t be long before we can board,” He said. “You look unhappy, your highness. Is there any way I can help?”

“Uncuff me, let me go home and live my life,” You snapped dryly. “That would about do it.”

“Get it all out now.” He chided. “The king won’t stand for your lip.”

“‘The king won’t stand for your lip’,” You mimicked and grunted as you leaned a bit too heavily on your hands. “I really don’t care what he wants and I certainly don’t care what he thinks of me. All the better if he hates me.”

“This isn’t about feelings. He will marry you regardless of his personal bias,” Barnes assured. “It will be easier, however, if he has a reason to tolerate you.”

“Do you really live by the forgotten words just because they were written down?” You scoffed. “You know how absurd that is? I’ve seen the stories, he could marry anyone--”

“No, he can’t,” Barnes intoned. “Those forgotten words are not forgotten. The kingdom remembers the agreement. They remember how much we gave to the flagging country of Ecklun. They remember we were promised a princess.” He looked at you. “You. We paid our dues and we expect a return on it.”

You shook your head, finding it hard not to laugh sardonically. It was all backwards. This was the shit you read about in textbooks or fantasy novels. It was bullshit.

“Would it disqualify me to tell you I’m not pure?” You snickered. “To tell you I didn’t save myself for the king I never gave a second thought about?”

“It doesn’t bother me and surely not him.” Barnes shrugged. “He’s had his own fun, but I would advise you to not be so flippant about it with him. He is not one for cheek.”

“If I am who you say I am, I will do as I like.” You snarled.

“Very well. I can’t stop you. I can only warn you against it.” He pushed his head back and sighed. “You know your history, you recall how kings can be.”

👑

You sat on the plane in a plush leather seat, white and pristine like the rest of the interior. Barnes was across from you, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. Once you’d taken off, he’d quit checking his watch and settled into the flight without a second glance at you. You couldn’t do the same.

Aside from your anxiety and anger over all that had transpired, your hands remained bound behind you and kept you from leaning back or getting comfortable in the least. You teetered on the edge of the seat and glared at him.

“What do you want, Duchess?” He asked without lifting an eyelid.

“Can’t you at least take these off?” You grumbled. “My shoulders are killing me.”

He shrugged and said nothing.

“You can’t expect me to sit through this whole flight like this.” You hissed. “Shit, you don’t treat me like a duchess or whatever you claim I am.”

His eyes opened sharply and he uncrossed his arms. He sat forward, his jaw ticked as he inhaled deeply through his nose.

“You will not use that language further,” He warned. “Understood. It is unladylike. Unseemly. I won’t tolerate it and neither will the king.”

“Language? I’m sorry I don’t talk in iambic pentameter.” You scowled.

“You know what I mean. No more shits, fucks, and all that.” He seemed disgusted by the words on his tongue. “If you feel the need to moan, pretend you are a child.”

“Oh, gosh, will do, mister,” You said dryly. He raised his brow and his nostrils flared. “If I promise to watch my mouth, will you undo these?”

He blinked and checked the time again. He seemed to weigh the option as he angled his head one way then the other.

“Well, I can’t have you arriving in cuffs, I suppose,” He stood and reached into his pocket as he neared. “But don’t think I won’t bring them back out if needed. You understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes, I swear to be a good little duchess,” You quipped.

He huffed and pulled you forward as he reached around you to grasp the cuffs. They came free and he drew away. He backed up as he put the key back in his pocket and dropped the cuffs in the empty seat next to him. He leaned an elbow on the rest and held his chin as he watched you. You sat back as you stretched your arms in front of your, turning your hands and rolling your wrists.

“We have a lot of work to do,” He ran his fingertips along his short stubble. “A lot.”

👑

Time seemed to stand still. When you arrived, it was morning in Astrania, the rest of the day lost in the difference. A man in black led you down the steps to the tarmac, Barnes behind you, and another man. You were taken into the airport, away from the general public, and guided through the corridors meant for employees only.

Barnes came up to walk beside you. A sudden tide of displacement washed over you. It was all real. You were far from home, stranded, trapped, in a land you didn’t know. With a title you didn’t want. For a purpose you dreaded.

The man in front of you stopped short before a door and turned back to look at Barnes.

“Cameras are here.” He said curtly.

“Already?” Barnes frowned.

“They must’ve seen the royal jet circling,” The man replied. “Apparently, they’ve been on alert since your departure.”

Barnes sighed and nodded. He unbuttoned the single button of his jacket and pulled it off. “Just make sure you keep them away.” He opened his jacket and turned to you. “Here.” He tried to shroud your head in his blazer and you dodged it. The man behind you blocked you. “Come on. There’s gonna be at least a dozen photogs out there and you far from ready for an appearance.”

“Are you serious?” You snorted.

“The longer we wait, the more will be there,” He said. “Now come on.”

He threw his jacket over you and you caught it. It smelled like expensive cologne and sweat. He wrapped it around you so that you could barely see and grabbed your arm to guide you onward. Unsteady, unsure, you let him usher you ahead and a heavy metal door opened, a streak of light visibly past the hem of the jacket as you could barely see your own feet.

A buzz of voices and the shutter of cameras greeted you outside and you clutched the fabric tighter. Barnes kept on, a few warnings to the vulture-like photogs as the way was cleared ahead of him by your stalwart escorts. A car door opened and you were angled inside quickly.

You caught yourself on the seat and felt a nudge to move over. Barnes climbed in as you righted yourself and the door closed heavily behind him. He pulled his jacket away and shook it out as the tinted windows flashed with the cameras outside. He grumbled and folded his jacket in his lap.

“Well,” He bemoaned. “That does change things.” He shifted on the seat. “Driver. Go on.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Your arrival will be a headline by the next hour,” He explained. “That means we have even less time to get you… ready.”

“Oh, such a tragedy.” You snipped.

“Trust me, duchess, while you insist on making a mockery of this, you do not want to face the media without preparation,” The car began to move and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “They will tear you apart. What matters is their perception not your intent.”

“Ah, is that your job then?” You wondered. “You’re supposed to make a lady of me.”

“I am to educate you,” He insisted. “A tall and no doubt foolhardy task,” He growled. “But my king gave me an order and I will do what I can to mold you into at least a semblance of a lady.”

👑

Lush green fields turned to rolling hills. You watched the scenery, almost forgetting where you were and why. The picturesque countryside awed you and sent a chill through you. It truly felt like you had stepped back in time; even as if you had arrived on an entirely different planet.

Trees planted in careful lines closed in around the road and led to a row of tall hedges and you stopped before a gate of curled metal, topped by sharp points. It opened after the driver gave a short honk. The long drive was laid with mosaic stones and curved before the rounded steps of a great mansion. The double doors at the top were decorated with golden knockers and the handles were wrought and twisted elegantly. The car came to a halt and Barnes, as was his habit, checked his watch.

Your door was opened by the driver as Barnes climbed out the other side. He rounded the vehicle and beckoned you towards the steps. He walked beside you and you could sense him watching you from the corner of your eyes. The doors opened as you approached the stairs and liveried servants appeared from the other side as they welcomed you with eager smiles.

“All is prepared duchess,” He gestured ahead. “The palace has been readied for your seclusion. You are the only task left.”

“What a welcome,” You sneered. “I might be unlearned in the habit of nobility, but I don’t think it is usual for one to speak to a duchess in that tone.”

He smiled and took your arm, hooking it through his as he urged you up the stairs.

“The king has permitted me full reign in your training,” He said as he guided you through the open doors. “He will forgive me my own missteps if I can prevent your own.”

You dragged your feet as you entered the vast foyer. The floor was of white marble veined with gold, the decor shared a similar color scheme, and portraits hung from the walls, vast likeness of women in garb dating from the earliest medieval periods to the last century. You detached from Barnes and looked around.

“This is the Palace of Regia,” Barnes explained from behind you. “These are your foremothers. The queens of Astrania, each of whom took their pre-marital seclusion here. Each who married and served their kings proudly.”

You recalled the tradition, common to many countries but mostly retired since Victoria reigned over England and much of the globe. You turned back to Barnes and blinked.

“How long?”

“Two weeks,” Barnes answered. “Two weeks to ready you for the king’s presence. You will be taken to the capital at the end and attend your engagement party so that you can acquaint yourself with your future husband. Your wedding is scheduled the next week.”

“Engagement party? Wedding?” You echoed. “That’s… three weeks. Not even a month.”

“Yes, so we should get to work.” He neared and grabbed your shoulders. He pushed them back. “Stand straight.” He poked your chin up with two fingers. “Head high, shoulders back.”

“What are you--”

He rounded you and his hand gripped your waist and squeezed. He shushed you and ran his other hand up your spine.

“You must hold yourself like a queen. Mind your posture, your highness.” He said.

You pulled away from him harshly. “What are you doing?”

You were shocked as you felt a slap on your ass and he swiftly caught your hips and drew you back to stand before him.

“I am trying to save you a lot of grief.” He said. “Stay.” He bid as if you were a dog. He released you and came around in front of you. “As I said, head up, shoulders back.”

He stared until you obeyed. You sighed and stood straight as you could. He grinned.

“Let me tell you, Duchess, the cameras, the public, they will judge you even more harshly so you want to give them as little ammunition as you can so that they cannot turn their muzzles on you.” He girded and grabbed your arms, adjusting them before his hands settled on either side of your neck. He tutted. “You cannot hang your shoulders like a hunchback.”

“I don’t--”

“You do.” He insisted. “Now,” He removed his hands and walked backwards until he was near the wall. “Walk to me.” You squinted and he lowered his chin. He chuckled and waved his hand to beckon you forward. “Come on.”

You rolled your eyes but took a step. He hissed. “Keep your head up. Shoulders straight. Don’t sway like that.” Each footfall had another comment until you were right before him. He gestured you to turn around and he kicked your feet closer together and again touched your hips. “Let them know you’re a woman but do not flaunt it. Walk as if there is a string running straight through you. Lift your feet.”

He nudged you and you began to walk again. He followed not far behind and you heard his displeased grumbles. He fixed your shoulders, your hips again, told you to keep your feet closer together, head up!

You were growing more and more annoyed by the second. You were tired. You hadn’t even had a chance to register everything. You were in a palace, marching beneath the eyes of dozens of dead queens, far from home and all you had ever known. It was all so foreign, so different, so startlingly unfamiliar. You hated it.

“Enough!” You spun to face him and he stopped short. “Holy shit! I haven’t even--”

He grabbed your hand and smacked it like you were a child. “Language.” He warned.

You tugged your hand back and gaped at him. “What the fuck--”

He took your hand again and smack it harder. “Your highness, let us not be children.”

“Don’t touch me--” You tore yourself away. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“If you insist on acting like a child, I will bend you over and spank you like one.” He said. “Now, stand straight.” He crossed his arms. “And mind your mouth.” You stared at him, stunned. He raised his brows and nodded to you. “Don’t make me count, Duchess.”

370 notes · View notes

illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

Text

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

165 notes · View notes