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randombtsprincessa · 5 years ago

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Base to Base

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Seokjin x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 5k

Genre: Smut/Fluff, Established Relationship!

Summary: You reminisce about your relationship with your boyfriend over the course of four bases.

Warning: Fluffy and softly grumpy Jinnie, the four bases, french kissing, shirtless Jin, flirting badly omg sorry, oral (both receiving), fingering, kitchen sex (clean up after this), unprotected sex (be safe guys)!

A/N: The following work is part of the In the Mood Project for @bangtansmutcentraland the lovely moodboard is contributed by @meispace <3

The feel of soft hands meeting the curve of your waist was what drew your attention to the new presence in your small but decently equipped kitchen. You hummed, lips rising in a smile when your ear buds were removed, gently looping them around your neck.

“Good morning,” you murmured, letting your head tilt back, against a broad shoulder. A shoulder to rival all shoulders as a matter of fact.

Mr. Shoulders hums right back, fingers skimming over your torso to rest at your stomach, holding you to him. “Hi, what are we up to?”

You glanced down at your hands, holding the skillet that sizzled with pancakes. The aroma of sweet carbohydrates and melting butter had already permeated the kitchen.

“I’m…making breakfast?” your words sounded as much a question to you as an answer, wondering why he asked. You backed further into him, nestling against his large frame until you noticed the closed eyelids.

“You mean you left me in bed all by my lonesome for food?”

You had to roll your eyes. If there was one thing your boyfriend of four years was, it was clingy and whiny when tired. He had been working hard – too hard, in your opinion – for the last two weeks, perfecting a presentation that would guarantee him a promotion. The presentation had pulled off spectacularly; the man resulted to entering your shared apartment with an air of extreme satisfaction.

An impromptu date had followed.

You had been hesitant, worrying he might collapse straight into his steak but he’d held up, driving the both of you back carefully before dropping and passing out in bed with barely any cleaning up, curled around you like a huge snuggly teddy bear. You’d hoped to make him some breakfast in bed for a well earned weekend but with his heavy body draped over yours, it was futile.

“Baby,” you cooed, turning around to hug him, hands rubbing over his bare back in an effort to soothe out the separation anxiety he proclaimed to suffer from. “Go back to bed, yeah? I’ll get you breakfast in bed.”

Jin whined again, a low car-like sound. “I want to stay with you.”

“But I’ll burn the breakfast; fine, go sit at the table, I’m nearly done.”

This time, you were met with resigned acceptance. Jin unlatched from you, shuffling to the round dining table tucked in one corner of your kitchen – living room juncture and slumped, his head laying flat against the wooden surface. His eyes remained focused on you, bleary.

You kept your gaze on him until his dippers slid shut and his pouty lips parted that you turned back to your food, frowning at the darker shade of the pancake that you were working on.

Cursing mentally, you saved it for yourself, adding it to the pile and lifting the batter spoon again.

If anybody asked you for any relationship advice, you would always say that never do anything that makes you uncomfortable, no matter how much you love that person.

Of course, you couldn’t practice what you preached when it came to your best friend, Sulli.

Deeply vibrant, sparkling with adventure and the first love of your life; Sulli was the voice over the phone that dragged you places. Former whining on your part almost always died down when you saw what she had planned for you and obviously, she blatantly flaunted that fact.

As a matter of fact, you were glad that Sulli was an exception to your rule; otherwise you might have never met the second love of your life.

Sulli had been incessant for the last few days of your senior year in college. ‘It is the last days before the finals.’ ‘It would be stupid not to attend one last party before we are no longer students.’ ‘We won’t have time before we have to start looking for work.’

You had agreed with a subtle sigh and eye roll, knowing she wouldn’t let up until you were in the car with her.

Of course, only this time you weren’t so thrilled about where she took you.

“A sports club; SULLI,” you screeched even as Sulli’s small red car drew into the parking.

“What, it’s just a cute little place where cute men crawl about; talking about shit nobody actually cares about but makes them feel good. It’ll be fine.”

“Still, I could be studying. I am definitely not interested in being mansplained about how to tell cricket from baseball.” You huffed, reluctant to even leave the car.

Your tornado of a friend ducked her head, lips already pouting in that magical way she knew always got her what she wanted.

Fuck…

“Fine…” you gritted your teeth, missing the way she grinned when you turned to get out of the car, following obediently as she opened the door of the club, fluid as she moved to lean over the counter.

“Hey, is the bar open yet?”

The man who was wiping down the end of the counter glanced up, looking curiously at you and Sulli before shaking his head, “The bar isn’t, opens at 8 in the evening; but the restaurant is. Breakfast time,” he explained, whipping a thumb behind his shoulder to the door that lead further in.

“Well, what luck, I haven’t had anything to eat in the morning.” Sulli threw you a lopsided smile and you snorted lightly, both of you walking in to get some ‘breakfast’.

You had been pleasantly surprised to see the restaurant buzzing with low volume; unlike the loud chatter you were expecting. Sulli led you to a small booth at the back, listing through the menu in an uninterested manner.

“It’s a self service.” You noted.

“Right, I want to have an egg salad. Do you want to go order?” She asked you. You obliged, walking to the front to place your order.

It was then when you had met Kim Seokjin.

Sitting with his back to you when you slid your order across, you were met with a pair of big, beautiful brown eyes that were raised at your presence.

“Can I help you?” You asked.

The man smiled, a little unsure. “I don’t think so. Sorry for staring. I didn’t know girls came here.” He said.

You trained an amused gaze his way. “I didn’t see an exclusive to men sign anywhere.”

“No, but it’s unspoken, isn’t it? This is where boys come to be stupid loud, and refined creatures like you avoid.” He leant in a little. “Between you and me I find it a load of crap. Women can be loud too and men can be graceful and cultured.”

You watched him as he nodded in a convincing manner. You decided to play along.

“So, what is a cultured graceful man like you doing here?” You asked.

The man straightened – a nice, tall height – pointing to the booth next to where Sulli sat, immersed in her phone. The man sitting in the booth looked up, noticing you and your companion and gave a cheeky wave.

“That’s my brother. He’s got the whole ‘I’m a man who needs to go to sports bar to seem cool’ thing going on. Young folks, you know.” He shrugged. “I, myself, am not so much a sports person but I don’t leave him alone if I can.”

“That’s…strangely sweet of you.” You blinked in surprise as the waitress rang his food. He picked up the two trays of subway sandwiches and smiled.

“Well, I’ll see you around I guess, I’m Seokjin, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you answered, stepping forward in line.

Needless to say, Sulli had been ecstatic when she heard about your interaction with Seokjin. That, plus the fact that he stopped by your table to say goodbye and ask if he was going to see you around had prompted your best friend to have you frequent the club further.

The ritual of going through pretty outfits and sitting at the counter until Jungkook – Jin’s brother – and Jin would show up only ended until he actually asked you out.

Jin winced when a loud cheer went through the crowds in the bar. You giggled as he cast you a despairing glance. “I don’t understand. Call me weird, but it’s just a ball.”

“You’re absolutely right. Nothing to lose minds over,” You acquiesced, not mentioning that your father was a sports buff as well.

“I’d much rather be at home, watching Master Chef.” Jin muttered.

“You’re into cooking?” You asked, surprised yet again.

“Very much, I love cooking, baking. I could be borderline Michelin with all the times I’ve had to feed that buffoon over there.” He indicated the corner where Jungkook was slamming his heavy beer mug on the wood. You pursed your lips.

“You should cook me something.” You teased, nudging his broad shoulders when he paused, the swig of beer swirling in his cheek before he swallowed.

“About that; I don’t know about cooking, but I have this reference for a French restaurant? It’s supposed to be really good. I was going to try it out this weekend. Do you…want to come with me? If it’s terrible, we’ll hit McDonalds.” He asked, looking over your shoulder.

You watched him, smiling as you brought your glass of punch to your lips. “Sure, I’d love to.”

Jin’s eyes flickered to you, meeting the smirk with his own. “It’s a date.”

The date had been beautiful. You’d dressed up but kept it simple, not wanting to overdo it even as the hostess walked you to a window facing table where Jin already sat. you were glad to see he hadn’t suited up, a simple black turtle neck, slacks and a grey jacket thrown over the back of his chair, the only dressed up he’d accommodated.

Your date with Jin had been near perfect, the light, crisp wine, the dish you couldn’t pronounce and Jin allowing you to split the bill before walking you to your car were still ingrained in your mind and it was doubtful anyone could ever surpass it.

Now of course, it was pointless, what with the man sprawled out on the table for you to love.

“Thank you, it was a lovely place, I had a lot of fun.” You said, turning to face him when you were next to your car.

“I’m happy you did. Also, thank god the place was good; I didn’t want a bad fish to ruin this date.” Jin chuckled as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

You smiled at the joke before rising up to your tip toes, pushing to be the forward one.

Jin accepted the kiss graciously, large palm moving to cup your cheek as he held you close to him but still respectful of the premise of the first date. Could this man get anymore perfect?

He pulled back for some air, staring at you with his pupils blown out a little before diving in again, his hand sliding to your back as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, barely brushing the edge inside.

You placed both hands on his shoulders, allowing him to enter your mouth, swirling his tongue against yours, a dance that tasted of the chilled wine before disconnecting again, taking deep breaths.

“We should go home, before I decide to get in the car with you.” He chuckled, carefully removing his hands from your body, palming through his hair.

“We have time. We just passed first base.”

Jin frowned, looking confused as you slid into the driver’s side, rolling down the window.

“First base?”

“Hey, we met in a sports bar; might as well keep the spirit alive.”

You winked at him, pulling out from your spot as Jin burst out laughing, waving at you before blowing a kiss.

You placed the lid on the pancake box, turning to look fondly at your still snoozing boyfriend. His arms encased his head, protective as he covered his eyes from the sunlight in the kitchen.

You moved over, trailing your fingertips over his bare skin. The supple surface had cooled in the chill of your home but you found him warm nonetheless, letting your hand rest over him, remembering the time you had seen him shirtless for the first time and he you, while also crossing the second base.

“Why are you shirtless?” You asked, pausing in the doorway of his kitchen.

Jin grumbled; nodding at the shirt he’d thrown to the floor. “I spilled soy sauce all over it. Damned bad luck; it’s one of my best white shirts…” He sighed, shaking his head before returning to his stirring.

“Oh,” you gulped, feeling heat seep into the apples of your cheeks at the vision in front of you.

Jin’s pacific shoulders stretched out, nearly taking up half the space of the kitchen, the muscles rippling every time those sinewy arms shuffled with the hissing pan. He thwacked the spatula against the rim of the utensil, bending down to sniff at the condiments. The jeans he wore tightened against his hips, dragging your eyes to the curve of his rear. You gulped again.

“Do you want me to get you another shirt?”

“No, I’m cool.” Jin blinked when he turned to face you. “Are you okay?”

“Yep,”

“You look feverish, is it the heat?”

Well, it was definitely something alright but you managed to shake your head. Jin frowned, “Are you allergic to something in here?”

“No, Jin, I’m fine, really.”

“But you’re all red and jumpy and…” He trailed off, glancing at you strangely before down at his bare body. It took him a second but you saw the light bulb go on.

Your boyfriend smirked. “Is it me, Y/N? Am I making you hot?”

You would’ve rolled your eyes, made a snarky comment, anything but the way Jin reached back to turn down the stove and strode over to tower over you; eyes challenging and smug changed your mind.

You reached for him, his hands willingly wrapping around you to allow your lips to mesh together. Jin grinned into the kiss, large palms sliding down to your thighs before he was lifting you onto the kitchen island.

“You’re overdressed.” He mumbled, detaching from you to flick open the pearl buttons of your sleek blouse. You placed open mouthed kisses against the column of his throat while he slid the top away from your shoulders, his fingers playing with the straps of your cream bra.

His eyes met yours, hinting a question and you met his with approval, raising your arms so he could push the flimsy material over your head. You dropped your arms, eyes downcast as Seokjin dragged his over your newly bared skin. Gently fingertips pushed your chin up to where he placed a kiss to your eager mouth.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, foreheads pressing to yours. Hands clasping your knees he dragged you to the edge of the island, his mouth hovering over your neck and clavicle, while his warm breath wafted on your skin, soaking in.

By the time he closed his pillow like petals over your peaking nipples, tongue laving over them, you were already aching against the very obvious bulge that was pressed right against your core.

Naturally, dinner was a bit late.

“Baby,” you called, hand now rubbing against his neck, trying to push him towards consciousness.

Seokjin grumbled, unintelligible before turning his head away from you. You gasped in mock offense. “A minute ago you didn’t want to leave me, now you’re pushing me away.”

“It was longer than a minute.” Jin raised his head to give you an owlish look. “You left me alone for too long; now I’m self sufficient.”

“Uh-huh, fine then, I suppose I’ll be eating all these pancakes by myself.” You moved to your own seat, placing two fluffy pancakes on your own plate and slathering them with chocolate syrup.

“Rude,” Jin huffed, brightening only when you put two on his own plate, sliding the butter and honey over. “If you were nicer, it would be you and honey on the menu for me but you’re playing.” He pouted.

“Jin!” You whined, “Please don’t, I’ve been having flashbacks all morning and you’re not helping.”

Your boyfriend paused mid-bite. “Flashbacks…? What kind of flashbacks?”

“About us, our time together…just stuff,” You took a bite into your pancake while Jin continued to stare at you.

“You were thinking about the bases, weren’t you?” He asked shrewdly, quirking his eyebrow.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you got all messed up when I brought up eating you out casually. I mean I don’t want to brag but after four years together I can still get you all hot and bothered. I’m awesome.”

You tossed a sprig of rosemary at him in retaliation which he batted away before grinning lasciviously. “I’m right aren’t I? You were thinking of our ‘times’ together.”

“Jin,” You warned.

“Remember third base?”

Oh didn’t you…

“Oh my god, stop,” You placed a hand flat on Kim Seokjin’s perfect face, trying to push it away but damn the man was strong. All the hours he spent with Jungkook in that absurd Club gym weren’t wasted after all.

“Please,” he whispered.

“Jin, Sulli’s in the house. It’s weird.”

“She’s not in the room, is she? Just please, I’ve been waiting for so long. You promised!”

You yanked yourself away when you felt Jin’s hand trailing up your jeans. Ever since you’d crossed second base, Jin had become much more insistent on getting the bases out of the way. It had been five months already but neither of you had had enough time, what with your ongoing thesis and his job starting as a financial advisor.

The changing hours had left him tired, not much happening if he came over, only to fall asleep while you did your own thing or joined him.

Now he was settled and you were free. Jin’s way of celebrating that was to ‘get over with third base’.

“Y/N just let me taste you. I was so hard thinking about it and I had to talk to my boss sporting a boner. It’s the least you can do.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have thought about it.”

He growled. “Are you joking? I have a fucking beautiful girlfriend, how am I not supposed to think about getting my mouth on every available inch of you?”

You were so surprised by his vehemence that you never noticed his hand on your waistband, popping the button open. You straightened, allowing him to tug the zipper down. Jin’s eyes were darkening, lower lip caught in his teeth as he glanced up at you hungrily.

“Lay back, baby,”

You obeyed, positioning yourself flat on your back in the center of your bed. Jin hovered over you, sliding the jeans off you and tossing it over his shoulders.

“I thought you said no?” He asked, leaning over you to tap at the silk covering you. You hummed absently. “I said no, until Sulli leaves.”

“So, I can go to town?”

You groaned. “You are so lame.”

Jin pushed himself against you, a hand lifting your face to his. “You love me,” he shushed before crawling down your body, lifting the thin tank top to expose your stomach.

You watched; lips caught between your teeth, as Seokjin took a breath, lowering his mouth till it rested just over your navel, small brushes lilting against your rapidly heating skin. “Relax, love, you’re all red and tense.” He ran a soothing palm over your leg, taking your mind off the fact that you were indeed mostly naked in front of him.

“I’m fine,” you squeaked.

He laughed at you, eyes fond even as he was slipping a thumb into the waistband of your panties, edging them lower. “If you say so, but I need you a little less stiff so you can enjoy it and I can enjoy doing it to you. We don’t have to,” he began but you were already cutting him off.

“No, no, I’m fine, I want this.” You nodded frantically.

Your lover read you for a second longer, gauging your reaction before the fabric pooling around your knees vanished, tossed in the same direction your jeans were and Seokjin’s face was lowering again.

He settled himself comfortably in the space between your parted legs, making sure to place them over his shoulder, enormous as they were, holding them apart just in case you decided to close them.

And you did…

The first flicker of his tongue against the underside of your belly had you jolt in ticklish panic. Jin stopped immediately; giving you an accusing stare.

“Relax, Y/N.” He warned yet again, keeping his eyes on you as his tongue slipped out again, boldly pressing against your clit, a swift and noticeable pressure.

“Oh,” you said simply, your eyes fixed to your ceiling while you tried not to be distracted from his ministrations.

Each lick, pucker and suck against your rosy flesh had you moaning, exultation barely hidden and over the horizon. You wondered if Sulli had in fact, heard it all, each indecent and wonderful reaction; but as Jin moved, slurping lewdly against your wetness with his long, crooked fingers buried knuckle deep in you, coaxing an orgasm that blinded you and had him grunting in satisfaction, you thought: Ah, fuck it.

Jin was staring intently at you, while you kept your own eyes firmly fixed to your food.

“Well…do you?” He pressed.

“Jin,” you shook your head. “What does it matter anyway? It’s in the past, we’re here now, why are you so bothered about that?”

“Because,” He replied simply. “All those times were so hot. I don’t remember one single time when we’ve been awkward in our physical intimacy and I’m proud of us for clicking naturally.”

“Just in that one department,” You teased.

“I’m just going to point out to you that our fourth year anniversary just went by and that we live together. You might just bear my children someday.”

You threw yet another packet of condiment at him, squarely hitting him in the shoulder. He let out a short groan that made you look up in surprise. “I hurt you with a packet of pepper?”

“No, I just…I had morning wood…but you know food first…but, well, all this talk about our sex life kind of has me going again.”

Jin cast you big, warm hopeful eyes, squirming in his chair to get the point across. You eyed him right back, trying to pour as much disdain as you could into it but to no avail. Either he was too used to it or he was too horny to notice.

“Come on, Y/N,” he reached for your free hand, thumbing circles over yours.

“You have hands Jin,” you retorted, pulling at your hand but he held fast.

“Come on, Y/N,” He repeated, voice deepening to a pitch he knew had you melting in a pool of your own lust while he watched wickedly.

“Play fair, you jerk!”

Seokjin stood up, rising to his full height as he moved to your side, bending over your chair to press cool, chapped lips to your neck.

“I’m so hot for you. Plus, we love kitchen sex.” He murmured, a husky undertone already present that had you squirming in your own seat, much to his delight.

“You know you want to, baby.” Jin’s hand moved from your shoulder, brushing flat over your breast, tweaking at your hardening nipple over the over sized shirt of his you had on before settling near the apex of your legs.

“I also know exactly how you like it. We can have a mini celebration of our fourth base right here.”

You were already losing, you could tell. Your breath quickened, pulse thrumming in your ears, in tandem with Jin’s voice. You clutched at his bicep, nails inching on his skin. Your eyes fell shut when he pulled the shirt up, slipping into the cotton boy shorts that completed your night wear.

A simple push to one side and your legs were opening for the man, his fingers already running over the insides of your thighs. The delicate skin prickled, signaling goose bumps on the rise.

“Jin,” You whimpered, his body caging over yours with the other hand moving to pull at the shirt, tugging it till it popped free over your head.

“Damn, I’m never going to get tired of seeing you naked.” He grunted, already pulling his own shirt over his head to join you.

You turned in the chair, running a hand over his abdomen, feeling him clench at your touch.

“You know what I remembered?” You asked.

“Hmm?” Seokjin curved a hand under your chin, letting you fiddle with his drawstrings.

“I didn’t suck you off during our third base. I want to make up for that.” You glanced up, through your lashes even as Jin exhaled sharply, a curt nod allowing you to free him from his pants.

Seokjin’s hot, pulsating length bobbed; a sight you’d seen many times but one that struck you during times like these; when it was slow but there was desperation coating the air, causing you to appreciate just what a gorgeous man your boyfriend was in all sense of the word.

Jin waited, letting you marvel all over his manhood, hand wrapping around the base to tug at the skin. A drip of precum oozed at the head, indicating his eagerness and before he could brace himself you had engulfed him.

A healthy sex life had made you adept at taking in Jin’s size, his glans and most of his length settling into the hot cavern of your mouth and above you the man let out an obscene groan.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered when you went further, his hand reaching up to rest at the back of your head, helping you.

Minutes passed as the only sounds in the kitchen were Jin’s low grunts and the soft, squelching of his cock going down your throat. You used the extra saliva to coat his length thickly, but Jin pulled away.

“Floor, honey, get on the floor, I want to be inside you now.” He choked, his own hand wrapping tightly around his length, jerky movements giving away the edge.

You hurriedly complied, getting rid of the shorts before getting on the floor, on all fours for easiest access. Even though it definitely wasn’t your first time fucking in the kitchen, what with Jin’s fondness for cooking and your fondness for watching him at it, it had been a while. Getting your own apartment with a nice bed to fool around in, with jobs had made you both much more conservative.

Jin got on his knees behind you, patting at your legs until you moved so he could slide the folded fabric of his shirt under your knees. The other hand moved to your willing core, fingers rubbing over your swollen lips to gather your wetness.

“So wet, baby, it’s been a while since I’ve had you in the kitchen, are you excited?” He asked gently. You could already feel the smug smile in the kiss he placed over the curve of your ass as he wrapped his hands around your hips.

“Yes,” you answered him, basking in his excitement at being adventurous again.

“Mm, that’s nice, we should do this more often,” he said, running the head of his cock over your opening, watching the way your juices slicked on his skin. “I should surprise you more often; eat you out on the table…maybe you can suck me off while I cook your favorite fried rice? Or we can just get down and dirty on the floor, give us an excuse to clean more?”

“Jin, please hurry,” you whined and he giggled while pushing in finally.

Seokjin settled in you heavy, his cock hot as your wall squeezed him. Your back arched as Jin hissed, gritting his teeth.

“You’re sucking me in baby, look at that.” He pulled back, staring at the place you connected in awe, a slow rhythm placed that just toed the line between satisfying and not enough.

You let out a keening whine when Jin paused, still nestled in you to place a trail a kisses up your back, slowly starting again. “Jin,” You panted his name in reproach.

“I know baby, but I’m still sensitive and you’re so tight in the morning. Just enjoy it, we have time.” He soothed.

You lowered yourself to rest on your elbows while he continued to move in you, low groans of appreciation falling from his lips as you backed yourself on his length.

When finally you felt you might explode from the delicious burn of his thickness in you, rubbing just shy from that glorious spot, he picked up.

Jin’s frame bent over you, one hand wrapping around your chest to hold you to him as his hips picked up pace, pounding into you with a speed that had you crying out, broken and pitched.

Hot breath washed over your ear, Jin panting on your skin, low growls whimpering dirty praises that would’ve curled your toes if you weren’t getting distracted at the moment.

“Are you close, sweetheart? Are you going to come all over me, gush the way I like? I know you can. Come on,” His hand slipped down to the swollen nub of nerves, rubbing harshly.

Your body arced away from him, fragmenting with the power of the orgasm that washed over you. Jin still remained, a loud expletive escaping him at the way your walls tightened and squeezed, milking him inside of you. You dropped back to the floor, sated and dopey with Jin following, his warm weight comforting upon you.

Jin pushed hair out of your eyes, smiling when he saw the dazed beam on your face. “That was amazing.” You crooned. He kissed your lips, sealing the smiles together. “Yes, we are. Can you walk?” He quietly inquired.

You whined immediately, throwing arms around his neck. “No. Carry.”

Seokjin obeyed.

With some difficulty, Jin hefted you up into his arms, walking through the hall. “I think it’s fair that I get clingy and whiny in the mornings. You do the same after sex. Even Steven,” He teased you, receiving no answer. He glanced down to see you already asleep, head resting against his chest.

Sighing with a surge of endorphins and love for the nuzzling woman he carried to the bathroom, he thought of the surprise he had for you in his sock drawer.

#smutcentralnet #inthemoodproject #jin smut #jin fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #bts #jin #kim seokjin #seokjin #bangtan #bts scenario #jin scenario #jin fanfic #bts fanfic

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btssaysstudy · 5 years ago

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Valentine’s Day || BTS JK

Genre: Fluff Paring: JK x reader A/N: My first fanfic hehe, hope you like it and do drop a message if you did!

In University, you joined a dance club as an extra curricular activity and that was when you met your best friend — Jungkook. Everyone in the club was familiar with each other and you had many events together already. It had turned into your family in university.

“He said I looked good in my recent post.” You had to admit that you sounded vain and shallow when you said that to your best friend. Jungkook chuckled, “I’m telling you he’s interested.”

“Or he’s just being nice.” You countered, to which Jungkook shrugged his shoulders. You took the drink you ordered and walked away with Jungkook to your table to have your lunch.

You hung out with Jungkook the most in school since you guys took the same modules and in the same year. “Anyway, enough about me, any updates on that girl that texted you?” “Nothing really, she’s another one that thinks we’re dating. I don’t understand why a girl and guy hanging out together will always get mistaken for being together.”

“Beats me. Maybe you should get rid of me to help with your game.” You grinned at Jungkook as a joke. He rolled his eyes at you, “As if it’ll be easy to get rid of you.”

“Oh so you’ve had thoughts about it?”

“Shut up.” Jungkook threw his crumpled receipt at you to make you stop. The two of you finished your lunch and headed to your next lecture together. On the way, you were talking about what you and Jimin had been talking about the other night when you were lucky enough to bump into him.

“Guess who’s behind.” Jungkook whispered after he had coincidentally turned around. “No way. You think he heard me gushing about him?”

Your best friend shook his head, placed his hand on your shoulder and whipped your body 180 degrees so that you could meet eye to eye with Jimin.

“H-Hey Jimin!”

“Y/N! Jungkook! Just the people I was looking for!” Jimin waved at you enthusiastically as he jogged up to the both you.

“You were?”

Jimin bidded his head with his charming closed mouth smile, “Nothing serious. Just a random question, are y’all skipping practice next Friday?”

Park Jimin. Another star dancer in the club, along with Jungkook and a few others. He’s also the one you have been talking about to Jungkook. You did see your fellow club members as family. Jimin was the exception though.

Jimin was a flirt.

A lot of people knew that. However it was not like the f*ckboy flirty ways, he was a natural at it. You were even sure that there were times he himself didn’t even recognize that he was flirting. You loved to talk to Jimin. You loved to see him dance as well.

“Skipping practice? No, why?”

“Because,” Jimin winked at you, “Next Friday is Valentine’s Day.” You tried not to let a big smile show as you remained ‘nonchalant’ about Valentine’s Day.

“I might be.” Jungkook wriggled his shoulders cutely and you nudged your best friend with a shocked look on your face. “I need an update!” Jungkook laughed, nodding head his, “Yes boss. I’ll update you later. For now, we have a lecture to attend.:

The three of you were in the same lecture for this module. However, Jimin attended this module with another group of his while you were with Jungkook. It was true that you two seemed inseparable. Of course it was appear this way since you guys organised your semester schedules together. You guys met during orientation camp and have become best friends ever since.

Halfway through the lecture, Jungkook had given up listening and started using his phone discreetly behind his laptop. You glanced to see that he was texting someone. “Who’s that?” You softly nudged his sides. “It’s the girl I asked out for Valentine’s.”

Your attention immediately shifted to finding out who was this mysterious girl, turning to him to ask for more information. “Show me a picture! What’s her name? How did you meet?”

Jungkook nudged you to keep quiet, finding a picture of her on social media. ‘Wow she looks good.” You thought to yourself, somehow feeling dejected without knowing the reason why.

It dawned on you that Jungkook won’t be there for dance practice next Friday and it made you less excited for practice. However, something bothered you even more. You felt more upset compared to the other times when he was just lazy to practice but you couldn’t put a finger on it. So you decided to brush it off.

��Jeon Jungkook! What is this?” You asked in shock as you looked at the contents of the tote bag. Taking out the box from inside, you opened it to find out that Jungkook had prepared you a lunch bento box and along with it, came your favourite drink.

“Do you like it?” He asked, you didn’t miss how shy and nervous he sounded.

You looked back up at me, showing the brightest smile you have as you pulled him in for a tight hug. “I love it! I love food! You’re the best I swear!” You felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled, making your heart flutter from the sensation. He patted your shoulders, signalling you to release him from your tight grasp.

“I didn’t get you anything though.” You pouted, feeling guilty that you didn’t prepare a surprise for your best friend. He shook his head, “Nah, it’s fine y/n. Don’t feel bad about it. It was an impromptu thing anyway.”

Jungkook started filling you in about the details on his date later that night - where he would bring out and what time. Once he was done sharing his part, you started talking about you will be hanging out with some of the club members after practice, one of them being Jimin.

You noticed his smile dropped for a split second before he went back to showing a supportive and bright smile. “Are you guys getting closer?” Shrugging your shoulders, “I guess so? But just as friends.”

“I see.”

—

While waiting for practice to start, you and Jimin were sitting next to each other, talking about recent events the past few days and just catching up in general. You realised that you never gotten the proper chance to just sit down with Jimin alone to get to know him better. It was mostly because you were always more nervous about trying not to make it obvious that you thought he’s cute.

However, the longer the conversation went, the more you realised. You were more than happy with how things are with you and Jimin. It already felt perfect in a way. You weren’t sure of the reason why but suddenly, it was as if you didn’t have that cute crush on him anymore.

“Jungkook told me about the girl he’s taking out tonight. Have you met her?” “No,” you answered curtly, which surprised Jimin and even yourself. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing.” Jimin chuckled, “Why are you laughing?” You looked at him in a questioning manner. Jimin just pinched your cheeks playfully. “It’s nothing y/n.”

You didn’t want to talk about Jungkook’s Valentine’s date, you weren’t sure why but you were sure that you wanted to change the topic.

Practice ended slightly earlier so you guys dashed out of the studio to head over to McDonald’s to get a midnight snack since you were all starving after dancing for hours.

Hoseok and Seokjin, also members of the dance club, were goofing around while you guys were walking to the fast food place. Taehyung was behind them, laughing freely and filming them. While you and Jimin were in front leading the way and talking with each other.

“Valentine’s Day doesn’t seem so boring when we have them behind us.” Jimin was referring to the two fooling around behind. You laughed as you glanced back, nodding your head in agreement.

“Too bad Jungkook isn’t here.” Jimin added.

“At least he’s on a cute date.” You said bitterly, looking down at your feet, not really paying attention to what you had just uttered.

“You know, I find it hard to believe no one asked you out for VDAY.” Jimin commented.

You looked back up to face Jimin as you walked, “I mean, everyone in the crew are all like family. We don’t see each other that way? And I basically only hang out with y’all.”

“Mmm. I guess that could be another reason.” Jimin jutted out his lower lip as you stared straight ahead, as if deep in thought.

You furrowed your brows, “Another reason? What reason did you have in mind?”

Jimin just winked at you and you nudged him to get it out of him.

“Spill.”

“You know, before I spill, I might as well spill that I knew you had a small crush on me.” He winked at you and you were completely caught off guard. He knew all this time?! You felt like a fool next to him all of a sudden.

Out of embarrassment you smacked his arm. “Didn’t need to do me dirty like that.”

Jimin laughed before continuing, “I had a crush on you too, for the record.”

You scoffed, not believing his words. “Really now.” For all you know, he could be saying that out of pity to help you feel less embarrassed.

“Yea. But I thought you and JK had a thing so I did my best to get rid of those thoughts. I only knew about you liking me recently because Jungkook dropped some not so subtle hints.”

“He WHAT?!”

Jimin winced sheepishly, probably thinking he screwed up and you were going to murder Jungkook.

“Don’t kill him. It’s because I was asking about your V-Day plans.” Jimin shook his head, “Anyway, back to the main point. That’s the reason I was referring to.”

“The main reason is that people think Jungkook and I are a thing?”

“Not gonna lie, I ship you guys at the same time so I was willing to let my crush go.” He winked at you and you laughed. “Well, you should’ve made your move since we aren’t together. He’s on a date now and he’s just my best friend.”

“You sure about that?” He asked as he opened the door to McDonalds, letting the group in and that put a pause on your conversation

After that day, Jungkook didn’t really update you about his date as he was talking to you as if nothing happened. You found it weird because he was usually very eager to share what happened.

“Okay. Why aren’t you updating me about your date?”

“There’s nothing to say.” He grumbled, seemingly not in the mood to talk.

“What do you mean there’s nothing? There has to be updates.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jungkook was avoiding your eye contact, looking at his drink, stirring the melting ice with his straw.

You tried to think of a reason why Jungkook was in such a sour mood. Then it clicked in your head, “Oh. It went badly didn’t it? It’s okay Jung—“

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” He snapped his head up to look at you straight in the eye.

“Damn. Okay.” You raised your hands, brushing his harsh reply off though it hurt you a bit. Jungkook felt guilty for lashing out at you and opened his mouth to apologise but was distracted when he saw Jimin approach your table, waving at the both you.

“Lover boy is here. I gotta go.” Jungkook got up with his bag.

“Go where? Our next lecture is only in an hour—“

“I’m going to the library.” He rushed off after saying hello to Jimin.

The library? Since when does he go to the library before lectures?

After waving goodbye to Jungkook, Jimin turned back at you, standing next to your table. “He looks pissed. What did you do?”

You shrugged your shoulders, leaning back against your seat, staring at your empty plate and cup. “I have no clue. He was being pissy about his date.”

“Oh. He didn’t tell you what happened?”

“No. What do you know?”

“He cancelled his date.” Jimin said with a knowing smirk, wriggling his shoulder suggestively.

“And how do you know that?”

“He told Taehyung when we were going out for Macs that night. He wanted to join us for post-practice meal.”

“So why didn’t he?”

Jimin sighed, reaching into his pockets to take out his phone. He showed you his chat with Taehyung.

“Tae filmed the group walking to Macs and I guess he saw this.” Jimin explained as you read the chat. You clicked on the video that Taehyung sent. “Wait.” Jimin took his phone and skipped to the part where you and Jimin were walking together and seemingly having a good time together.

Confused, you looked back up at Jimin. “What about it?”

Jimin jokingly poked your forehead. “Must I spell everything out for you? He likes you. Dumb ass.”

You laughed, “If he did. He would’ve asked me out for Valentine’s.”

Jimin shrugged his shoulders, taking your bag from the seat. “He probably would’ve asked you if you didn’t tell him about your crush on me.”

“What are you doing with my bag—“

Jimin took your arm and pulled you up. “Where did he go?”

“The library?”

“Yea right, that boy ain’t there to study. Go talk to him.” He started pulling you in the direction of the library.

Throughout the walk to the library, you kept saying you didn’t want to talk about it. You needed to think it through and come up with a plan but Jimin kept pulling you all the way.

At the entrance, you saw Jungkook walk out, he looked at you and Jimin together. You noticed the blank look on his face, as if he was trying to hide his emotions.

Jimin smiled at Jungkook and pushed you towards him.

“See y’all at the lecture!” Jimin winked at you and briskly walked off.

“Screw you jimin.” You cursed under your breath.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asked as he walked up to you and you shook your head. “N-Nothing. Just wanted to check on you since I seemed to have pissed you off earlier.”

Jungkook sighed and shook his head. “No you didn’t. Sorry I snapped at you. Can we forget about that?” You agreed and the two of you made your way to the lecture hall.

“About my date. I cancelled it.” Jungkook spoke after the short silence.

So it was true.

“Why?”

“It didn’t feel right.” He answered but you didn’t pry.

—

After lecture, Jungkook suggested to go for ice cream and you agreed. He asked about updates on you and Jimin. You told him you don’t see him that way anymore.

“Really? Just the other day—“

“Yea I know what I said but I realised it was just eye candy or something.”

Suddenly you remembered that Jungkook snitched on you. “He told me that he knows I liked him. I wonder why.” You looked at him and he gave you an apologetic look.

“I-I’m sorry.”

You laughed, brushing it aside, “It’s okay. But we talked about it and we’re cool.”

There was silence following that as you guys ate your own ice cream. It was creating nervousness in you and you couldn’t sit in silence any longer.

“Wish you joined us that night.”

Jungkook smiled, “Me too.”

“Why didn’t you? Since you cancelled the date.”

He shrugged his shoulders, avoiding your eye contact once again, taking a lick of his ice cream. “It was too late to go out.”

“That’s nonsense. You have no curfew.”

Jungkook chuckled, “Okay yea you’re right.”

“Jimin told me you asked Taehyung where we were but you didn’t meet us.”

“I lost the mood to meet you guys.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief, “You lost the mood for a midnight snack? Okay, the date, I understand since you’ve done that before. But McDonald’s? With everyone?”

Jungkook pressed his lips into a thin smile, you could tell he was thinking of his reply. You waited, eating your ice cream that was slowly melting in the cup.

“I didn’t want to go there on Valentine’s just to see you and Jimin together.”

You stopped mid-scoop and looked up at him who was looking down at his ice cream cone. “W-What?” You felt your body froze, trying to comprehend what he was trying to say.

With a frustrated sigh, he looked into your eyes and confessed. “I always cancelled on dates because I didn’t want to go on dates with other girls. Hanging out with you is more than enough. I thought at first maybe its because I was just stuck with you. But after hanging out with other girls before, it just didn’t feel as happy and chill when we hang out.”

You didn’t break eye contact at all and you felt the sincerity of every single word he had uttered. Yet, you didn’t know how to reply. You felt your heartbeat even more heavily, you felt this adrenaline rising in your and your cheeks heating up.

“I like you y/n.”

You leaned back, staring at your cup of ice cream. “Huh.” You chuckled, completely at a lost.

“Why are you laughing” He asked, looking a bit nervous.

You looked up at him, making eye contact and smiled. “If you do, why aren’t you asking me out on a date then?”

His nervous look morphed into a big smile, “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“I’d love to.”

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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years ago

Text

New York Minute PT. 2

anonymous said: I saw you say your requests are open (but your bio doesn’t say they are so I totally understand if I misunderstood and I apologize). I was wondering if you could do a ben hardy imagine where the reader and he aren’t together but he gets jealous about one of the other boys (and realizes his feelings) and the rest is up to you ;) thank you! and anonymous said: Ooh could you do an age gap thing with either roger or ben of like roger being in the early 1980s and reader/oc being in their early 20s and Ben being the age he is now with someone in their early 20s??

(a/n: she is here, and she is BIG!!! LORGE!!!1 she’s 13k+ im so sorry anyways theres some more pining in here, boundaries questioned, and mcdonalds. dont say i didnt warn you. also funny joe moments because we love neighbor joe)

"I mean, it's not the first thing I'd want to sit and watch with you guys. It's kinda sad, isn't it?" You were fiddling with the buckle on some strappy high heels as you sat in a chair adjacent to where they were lounging on two folding chairs. They were dressed down, ready for an impromptu night of binge-watching Chernobyl that they'd just planned maybe a couple hours ago, accompanied by a homemade recipe you'd been wanting to try out for a while. You, on the other hand, had planned a Tinder date tonight, but you agreed to help cook and stick around for a while until you went to grab drinks with Jameson, who was lanky, had a small man-bun, and apparently quite an interest in American Pale Ales. You knew that Joe (and probably Ben, once Joe told him) would clown you off the face of God's Green Earth for your choices - but, Jameson was cute, and drinks on him, so why not? You'd asked Joe that exact question as you prepared the food. "What a catch," Joe had teased as you'd worked around him in the kitchen, having directed him to start making the cream sauce for the chicken you were currently baking.

"Don't act like you aren't any less of a white boy than him, Joe," you snarked right back, sending him a quick scowl before checking on the chicken, frowning when it didn't appear to be cooking very fast. "Did you turn the oven down?" "No- Oh shit, I must have bumped it," he mumbled, turning the oven back up to cooking temp and grinning sheepishly. "My bad." Sitting his spoon to the side, he went to the fridge and grabbed two beers while you started chopping mushrooms, mumbling to yourself about terrible sous chefs. "Dummy. When's Ben going to be here?" you asked offhandedly, remembering that he'd mentioned a specific time in the group chat you were all in. Joe had started it to send a shitty meme to the both of you, after which he'd been properly roasted, and the three of you hadn't shut up since. Neither you nor Ben had taken it to the next step - texting one on one. There was still an unspoken barrier there, and neither of you were brave enough to cross it. "Dunno. Why? Is he secretly your Tinder date?" Joe teased, popping the top off of the bottle before holding it out to you with a devilish grin. It was eye-roll inducing, and you took the bottle with a small thanks before leaning back against the counter, taking a sip. "I told you I saw him on Bumble, not Tinder. And I haven't been on there since." "Did you swipe right?" Joe pried, popping the top off of his bottle as well before tossing the two lids in his trash. As he came back to lean his butt against the counter across from you, he wiggled his eyebrows. "He's single, you know. And he doesn't obsess over local brews." "Joe, shut up, Jameson's nice! And no," you admitted, hiding behind the bottle a bit as you took another sip. "I kind of.... exited the app and haven't been back on it since. It spooked me. Don't want to get caught up in that." "Why?" he laughed, a bit of beer trickling over the lip of the bottle before running down to rest between the crook of his thumb and index finger. "What would you have done if you swiped right and you matched? Is he not attractive to you? Is he really that bad?" "No, no, shut up," you groaned, letting your head fall back for a moment before laughing and shaking your head. "It's not that, it's just.... awkward after hearing about all those stories about London and the pubs. I don't want to mess around with someone like that, I'm fragile. And he's your friend!" Translation: Your hot womanizer friend could ruin my life in about two texts and I'd probably still thank him. "Our friend," Joe corrected, taking another sip of his beer and raising an eyebrow. "Do you really think it's been long enough for us to be considered friends like that?" you wondered aloud, frowning a bit as you pondered the idea. "I mean, I don't want to overstep boundaries, but I guess we do have each other added on Facebook now. And we did have a good talk while you slept on my reclining chair - again." "Boom. Friends," Joe simply replied, gesturing vaguely with his hand to imitate an explosion. "And what about the London stories are so bad that you just cannot consider him at all? I think you guys would be good for each other." "Joe, have you been paying attention to my dating life the last few years?" Raising an eyebrow, you watched as he nodded, still seeming like he didn't see what made Ben the same as the rest of them. "You told me stories about a young, smooth-talking guy who was gifted at the pump and dump and not gifted at the 'get their name and call them the next day to go out for dinner' part. That sounds like.... literally over 80% of the guys who have destroyed my life recently." "Ew... don't call it the pump and dump." He wrinkled his nose in disgusted, then grinned a little bit and shook his head. "To be fair to the man, he had just gotten out of a pretty serious relationship. They were just rebounds." "You're destroying your argument even more. Who's to say I wouldn't be a rebound too if I matched him?" You had him there. Pursing his lips, he looked quizzical, as if he was questioning his own argument, and it took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts before he shrugged reluctantly. He had many things he could say to you, but he was running out of ways to say them. "Exactly. I cannot be another rebound. And imagine how awkward that would make things between all of us if I was!" "It would only be awkward if you let it be awkward." When you rolled your eyes, Joe frowned, clearly frustrated with how you weren't budging an inch - he really thought you two would be a fun match, and he didn't understand why you were failing to see that. Sighing, he took another drink of his beer before sitting it on the counter and crossing his arms. "What do you think of him? Honest opinion, no bias from what I've said before. Just your impression of him these last few weeks." "Honestly?" you echoed, taking another drink of your beer as you thought back to all the exchanges you'd had with him since he'd moved here. "I thought he wasn't really like the guy you told me about at all." Joe's frown slowly morphed into a smug grin, and you gave him a warning look as you tried to shut it down quickly. "That doesn't mean anything! Guys like Ben are really good at seeming harmless! I'm not convinced-" "I can already hear the wedding bells." When you sent him an unconvinced look, he just laughed and reached out to gently push your shoulder. "I'm just joshing ya! He's really not that bad. Like I said, all those stories I told you about going out with them in London are only partially fact. I was pretty drunk." "He seemed nice the other night, so I really don't want to know which parts are true. I'd like to keep a somewhat pristine, at-arm-length image of the dude," you dismissed, grimacing a bit. "He is cute, though, I will give you that. All of you damn actors are lookers and it pisses me off." "Was that a compliment?" Joe asked after a brief silence, raising an eyebrow. "You sounded so mad, I couldn't tell." When you rolled your eyes in response, he just rolled his eyes too before crossing his arms again. "If Ben's cute, why didn't you swipe right? You don't have to keep him at distance, what's the harm in being closer than that?" "Dude, you don't understand!" Huffing softly, you looked up at the ceiling for a moment and attempted to collect your thoughts - and more importantly, your half-assed excuses. Closing your eyes, you tried to be as level as you could, speaking almost in monotone. "I know that Ben is out of my league, and he probably just sees me as your weird neighbor girl. He's like, a solid 9.9 and on a good day I'm pushing 7. I also know that he's got too much game and he'd easily ruin my life. And he probably swiped left!" Opening an eye, you peeked over at Joe, who was watching in amusement, and pointed your finger. "Don't make a joke about Jameson." "I didn't say anything!" he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender, and you sighed before opening both eyes and turning to burying your face in your hands as you propped your elbows on the counter. "Oh, come on, stop being such a drama queen. It's not that deep. You're both young - well, you're a little younger-" "Wow, no shit, Sherlock," you grumbled, not even moving an inch. "As I was saying," he snipped, narrowing his eyes a bit at the rude interruption before continuing. "You're both young, single-" The sound of the door opening stopped him in his tracks, and you shot up from where you'd been wallowing in your own self pity, turning to the stove quickly to see the cream sauce turning an odd consistency. "Joe, seriously, who taught you to cook?" you lamented quietly, grabbing the pan and making a frustrated noise before pouring out the sauce that he'd managed to scald already. "I let down my guard for two seconds and you do this? Now we gotta start over, dummy!" "No one! No one taught me to cook!" Joe answered in mock frustration as he gave you a knowing look, snickering a bit when he shuffled past you to get to the fridge again, his hand just ghosting over the small of your back to scoot you out of the way. You reacted like it was instinct, moving over and letting him into the cramped area as you turned the other way, headed to rinse out the sauce pan in the sink when you suddenly saw Ben in the doorway, looking a bit sheepish that he'd walked in on such an oddly domestic scene. Offering him a rushed smile, you turned on the warm water before turning to give Joe a gentle but firm kick in the butt, making him cry out in confusion and whirl around to give you a really pissed-off look. But the look only lasted for a moment as he pretended to just notice Ben, and a delighted smile quickly replaced the insulted scowl as he sat the cream down on the counter, shutting the fridge behind him. "Hey, bud, you hungry?" he asked, once again skirting around you to greet his friend with a quick handshake and a one-armed hug. Turning to face them, you placed a hand on your apron-clad hip and smiled a bit at the bromance. The apron on you read 'EAT MY MEAT' in bold white lettering atop the black fabric, and Ben couldn't help but chuckle at the juxtaposition between the aggressive statement and the homely kitchen it currently resided in. "We're making enough for four," you chimed in, giving Ben a pointed look and smiling pleasantly. "One for me, one for you, and two for Mr. Black Hole over here." "Oh my God, I can't help that I'm hungry sometimes! Why do you always have to roast me for everything?" "Yes, yes, yes!" you cheered excitedly, clapping and jumping a few times as Joe returned to making the cream sauce. "You said roast!" Joe's face scrunched up for a moment, then he huffed softly and shook his head, bowing it a bit. "I fuckin' did, didn't I? I hate that. We're not allowed to hang out any more." Snickering at his upset tone, you greeted Ben with a quick hug before grabbing the other apron on the counter and holding it up, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Ben looked down at himself, gesturing at the stained gym clothes, and you shrugged as Joe started talking again, unawares of the silent conversation. "So I was thinking we can eat and watch Chernobyl, maybe get a little crazy on some American Pale Ales before Y/N leaves," he hummed, laughing when you sent him a withering look and smacked him with the apron. "I'm not letting it go, dude! You were the one who fucked up and told me about the pale ales!" "Joe, I'm literally trying so hard just to find someone decent, so what if he's a white boy that's snobby about beers? I'm running out of options," you lamented, sitting the apron down on the counter and pouting a bit as you went to check the chicken again, huffing when the inside temp only read around 140 degrees. "So close." "Tinder date tonight, huh?" Ben asked, taking over on the mushrooms that you'd neglected as he looked over at you. There was a somewhat hesitant look in his eyes, and you nearly choked on air when he took a deep breath and added, "Or is it Bumble?" An awkward silence quickly fell over the three of you - both you and Ben had talked to Joe about it, but neither of you had any idea about the other reaching out. So many words left unsaid hung in the air as you straightened up again, shutting the oven and forcing on a smile despite your embarrassment. What a fucking cheeky bastard, just blatantly throwing that out there like that. Maybe he was more alike to London Ben than you'd thought. "Um, no. Tinder, actually." And that was that, Ben looking back down to the mushrooms with a mildly amused expression as he finished slicing them, the three of you lapsing into another momentary silence. "Well," Joe finally sighed, giving the both of you an awkward smile as he turned back to the cream sauce, putting the seasonings in again. "I'm really banking on the slim chance that I have some Lactaid in the medicine cabinet." To punctuate his sentence, he dipped his finger into the cream sauce to taste test, humming in appreciation as you looked on in mild disgust, however thankful you were for his diversion. "Are you for real? I'm not taking care of you if you don't have any," you chastised gently, Joe pouting a bit at your harshness and crossing his arms. "I'll take care of you, mate," Ben offered up, holding out the bowl of sliced mushrooms for Joe and grinning when Joe gave him exaggerated eyes, taking the bowl and blowing a kiss at him before starting to saute the mushrooms in the extra skillet you'd been heating on the back-burner. "I'll go check and see if you've got a few left." With that, he was wiping his hands on his shirt, nodding at you before leaving you both alone. As soon as you heard his footsteps retreat down the hallway, you turned to Joe and let your jaw drop, Joe doing all he could to not burst out in laughter as his knees buckled a bit, a hand flying out to steady himself on the counter. Throwing his head back, he let out a quiet gurgling noise akin to an animal dying as a smile practically cracked his face in half, his amusement with this whole situation having grown tenfold in the last minute or so. "That was so...." you trailed off, genuinely shocked that Ben had felt cheeky enough to hint at something so personal for the both of you, and you furrowed your eyebrows at Joe's continued silent laughter, crossing your arms. "Why are you laughing? Did he talk to you about it too?!" "It might have come up," Joe admitted between inhuman noises, his face red from the effort of silencing his peals of laughter. He conveniently left out the part where Ben had been pestering Joe about what you'd said about him all week - Ben had swiped right, after all, and the longer he didn't know if the feeling was mutual, the more antsy he'd gotten. "Joe! Are you fucking serious?!" you whined, trying to keep your voice down as you peeked down the hallway quickly before throwing your hands up in a questioning manner. "What did he say?" "I will not disclose any discussions between me and my client-" "Oh shut up shut up shut up!" you whisper yelled, quickly trying to rush Joe and smack at him but getting caught at arms-length when he reached out and pressed a hand against your forehead, effectively stopping you in your tracks. "Joe, this is so unfair," you almost whimpered, dropping your hands to your side as you leaned into his hand, huffing. "That was so awkward! Did you hear how smooth that was? I'm going to be so mad when I get on Bumble and find out he swiped left." "I think you're underestimating yourself waayyyyy too much," Joe laughed, resting both of his hands on your shoulders like an encouraging coach as he grinned down at you. "And what about the arm's-length thing? I'm not going to tell you what Ben said about the Bumble thing. Whatever it is, it's between you two. You're both adults." "Joe, please," you whined, pouting so exaggeratedly you probably looked like a five year old asking for one more Girl Scout Cookie as you gazed up at him sadly, trying to guilt it out of him. "I need validation." "Stick that lip out any further and birds will shit on it, kid," he teased, snickering when you just gave him a wilting look and stopped pouting, instead crossing your arms. "Aw, come on. Cheer up, stupid. He told me he liked your bio on Bumble! Is that enough?" After considering it for a moment, you shrugged and tried not to look as grumpy. "I guess." Pursing his lips, Joe deadpan stared at you for a moment before smiling cheerily and reaching up to pat your cheek in a friendly manner. "It's not a no!" At that moment, Ben popped back around the corner, holding a slightly used box of Lactaid and raising an eyebrow when he saw Joe's hand quickly retracting from your face, dropping to his side, but not before his fingers brushed against your cheek. It was glaringly intimate from an outsider's perspective, but all you felt was Joe's grimy hand leaving shit behind on your face. As much as you wanted to continue throwing a fit, especially with the added awkwardness from what Ben had just 'witnessed,' you stepped away from Joe and picked up the spoon next to the stove, forcing anything but a pout onto your lips as you wiped your cheek off on your forearm. "Looks like your boyfriend's got your anti-diarrhea pills." "Stop calling them that!" Joe sighed, exasperated as he turned back to the mushrooms. "I can't help it that my taste buds love dairy just as much as my body hates it." Ben sat the box down on the counter, watching as you gave the cream sauce a quick, indifferent stir. You were really just trying to find something to do to avoid facing the blonde anyways, but he didn't seem to mind as he leaned against the counter across from the two of you, crossing his arms. "Anything I can do to help, MasterChef and MasterChef Junior?" You smiled at the names, Joe furrowing his eyebrows for a moment before looking over his shoulder at Ben. "I'm not Junior, right?" Ben shrugged, feigning apathy, and Joe made an appalled noise before huffing a bit, turning back to focus on the mushrooms. Giggling quietly, you looked over your shoulder and nodded to the fridge. "There's bacon in there. Do you want to slice it up into little pieces so Joe can add it to the mushrooms in a bit?" Uncrossing his arms, Ben pushed himself up off the counter and nodded with a smile, which you reciprocated before turning back to the cream sauce and chewing on your lower lip. You could hear the sound of him shuffling past, his proximity so dangerously close that you could have sworn you felt the heat radiating off of him even when he retrieved the bacon from the fridge, tossing it on the counter where he'd been chopping mushrooms. You heard the sound of him cutting into the package of bacon with the knife. What you didn't expect was a clearly disgusted noise from him, followed by a slightly rancid smell that immediately made you wrinkle your nose and look at Joe, who was making the same face. "I think the bacon's expired," Ben finally said, and you both turned to find him standing there with a pallid, overly-greasy piece of bacon pinched between his fingers, dangling down in front of Ben's mildly horrified face. "Jesus, Joe, I thought you said you had bacon," you groaned playfully, wiping your hands off on your apron before peeking around Ben to see the whole package was expired. "That smells awful!" Joe was silent for a moment, mouth open as if he was trying to find the words to say before he began to stutter. "Well - I did, it just looks kind of....." "Disgusting," Ben finished for him, dropping the piece of bacon back in the package. "Do you have more anywhere?" When Joe shook his head, you grumbled and sat the spoon down, heading for your apartment. "I think I still have some. Ben, can you keep an eye on the sauce so Joe doesn't cause any other disasters?" "Yes, ma'am," he replied cheerily, Joe whining in indignation as you grinned, grabbing your phone and heading back over to your place for a second. As you walked across the balcony, you unlocked your phone to check a message from your friend when the app icon caught your eye. The yellow square, with a white, honeycomb-ish icon in the middle, taunted you as you slowed to a stop, your free hand resting on the door handle. Glancing back over to Joe's side of the balcony, you made sure they weren't on your tail before looking back to your phone and biting your lip. Should you do it? Maybe Joe was right. "No, no, no, don't be stupid," you muttered. Pulling open your door, you retrieved the bacon without so much as looking at the Bumble app again. And you managed to avoid it for the next hour while you helped Ben get rid of the spoiled bacon, eventually getting the creamy bacon mushroom thyme chicken finished and in your stomachs, after which you started to get ready for your date while they took a quick break on the folding chairs just outside Joe's balcony door. Whatever they were expecting, it clearly wasn't what they saw as you slid open your balcony door, stepping out in a little black dress-type number that definitely cut the conversation off immediately. They both stared shamelessly, making you suddenly regret getting all dolled up when you still had an hour to go before Jameson even planned on dropping by to pick you up. In fact, it made you regret getting dolled up at all as you tugged at your hoop earring, smiling sheepishly. "That bad?" you joked, but from the look in your eye, Joe could tell you weren't exactly completely cocksure at this exact moment, so he flashed you an encouraging grin and shook his head. You read like a book, and no one was more in tune with you than Joe. "Far from it. You'll knock him dead, kid." Taking another sip of his beer, you spotted the mischievous glint in his eye too late, his mouth already dropping open to continue before you could redirect the conversation. "Don't you agree, Ben?" "Huh? Oh yeah, mate, for sure," Ben stammered, feeling like a deer in the headlights as he nervously kept his eyes above your neckline. "You'll be the prettiest bird in the place. Jaden will have to keep an eye on you." "Jameson," you corrected, grinning a bit at the compliment and trying not to laugh at his failed attempt of remembering your date's name. Chalking it up to forgetfulness, you fell down in the chair on your side of the tape line, leaning down to adjust the buckle on your heel. "But thank you. Both of you." "Ready to watch Chernobyl?" Joe asked, kicking a cigarette butt that Ben had just stomped out and watching as it tumbled over the edge of the concrete, falling to the sidewalk below. "I mean, it's not the first thing I'd want to sit and watch with you guys. It's kinda sad, isn't it?" Frowning, you finished adjusting the buckle and bent down to check the other one, Ben checking you out for just a second before turning to Joe to send him a distressed look. Joe only pressed his lips together, fighting back a snicker and stifling his words completely with another drink of his beer. "Let's watch something else. Let's watch BoRhap." Groaning, Joe dropped the hand that held his beer to the armrest on his chair again, letting his head fall back in annoyance. "Not again!" "Why do you want to watch that?" Ben asked curiously, crossing his fingers that you wouldn't say it was your favorite movie, but you only shrugged and grinned before sitting up again, running a hand back over your hair. Joe answered for you. "She likes watching so she can.... roast me. Started as payback when I printed out a bunch of pictures of her in middle school and posted them all over the building. Which was payback for God knows what. Which was probably also payback." "Oh," Ben said quietly, a slow grin appearing on his face as he looked between the two of you. "I'm all for it, then." "That's the spirit!" you cheered, standing up and holding out your hands for the both of them. Joe grumbled as he took your hand, pulling himself to his feet and shooting both of you dirty looks before stomping inside. Ben took your hand next, and you helped him to his feet with an excited grin before pulling him inside, dropping his hand just past the door under the watchful eyes of your neighbor, who couldn't suppress a knowing smile before he grabbed the remote, flopping down on the couch. You had an interesting concept of what arm's-length meant. And so you sandwiched yourself between the two of them on the couch while the movie started, Joe's arms propped up on one arm of the couch while Ben spread his arms out over the back of the couch. You were hugging your waist, legs tucked to the side and your knee just barely brushing up against Ben's thigh whenever he'd shift to get more comfortable. He was manspreading, which came as no surprise to you - every Ben Type you'd known before was especially gifted at taking up an abnormal amount of space. But Joe was curled up and slightly turned away from you, his arms crossed as if an instinctive need to defend himself was setting in. Soon, Ben knew why. "That perm..... iconic," you laughed, Ben snickering along with you as Joe pressed his face into his hands, groaning quietly. "Somehow, the wig manages to add a staggering half a foot to your height and you're still almost the shortest one in the group." "Why is no one making fun of Ben's wig? Why am I being targeted here?" he asked exasperatedly, Ben gasping in mock hurt that Joe would try to redirect. "Ben was probably wearing heels anyways!" "Wow, mate, way to try and change the subject. Why do you want me to be bullied too?" "Why do you want me to be bullied too?" Joe repeated mockingly, shooting a withering look at the both of you as you giggled incessantly, reaching over to elbow Joe teasingly. "70's suburban mom wig. It's a 70's suburban mom look! You look like you nail rail cocaine on the reg but also think rock and roll is the devil's music." Raising an eyebrow at Joe, Ben stared with narrowed eyes for a moment before tilting his head indicatively at the screen, where Joe was in his full glory with his perm. "Joe, is that your hair, or did someone throw a toaster oven to you while you were in the bath?" Your eyes widening, you laughed once and pressed a hand to your mouth, impressed with Ben's saltiness. "Who am I kidding, why would you be in a bath?" "Cleaning you out of the drain," Joe fired back almost immediately, casually turning his attention back to the screen despite his bitter smile. "Bold of you to assume I don’t bathe anyways, you still currently smell like the Bay of Pigs with that rotten bacon shit." "Joe, holy shit!" you yelled, looking at Joe in shock before bursting out laughing and turning to Ben. He was almost shocked, jaw slightly slack as he stared over at Joe in what seemed to be a mix of surprise and mild offense. "Ben, you're done for! Joe literally just insulted the way you smell and also called you one of the biggest failures of the last century. Roasted!" "It was a military failure.... fuck you both," Ben weakly shot back, running out of ammo as you and Joe both turned on him. "Why do you always say roasted? You Gen Z shit." "Wow! Okay?! I was born like maybe 6 years after you. You're like... not even a decade older. And I'm not Gen Z. Stop acting like I was in the womb while you fought in the Bay of Pigs. Even if you do smell like it." Joe burst into a fit of giggles, burying his face in the armrest next to him as he kicked his feet a bit, beyond amused at how quickly this had turned on Ben, who was now staring at you in shock. After another few seconds of silence, he shut his mouth and pushed himself up from the couch, smoothing a hand over his hair and letting out an exaggerated sigh. "I'm sensing hostility and I think this is my opportunity to leave for a smoke break so I can cry about how all of my friends like bullying me." "No, no, we're just joking!" you laughed, leaning over on Joe and covering your mouth to stifle the giggles as Joe nodded weakly, trying to contain his as well. "Yeah, come on, Ben, we're just fucking with you!" "Why should I sit back down if I smell like the Bay of Pigs?" Ben pointed out, and you rolled your eyes playfully before reaching out and wrapping your hands around his wrist, tugging him back towards the couch. "We like you even though you're stinky. Come back and finish the movie with us!" Even though it passed over your head like a bad joke, your pull on Ben was magnetic. Joe watched, amazed as the usually hard-headed blond just rolled his eyes and sat back down next to you without another protest. Joe couldn't have pulled him from a smoke break even if he'd gotten on his knees and begged, but one teasing, pleading moment from you and Ben was seated right back next to you, his arm around the back of the couch and resting near your shoulder as you made a content noise and settled back into the couch again, redirecting your attention to the TV. That's when Joe caught Ben's eye, trying to send him a subtle 'You're fucking whipped and she's not even at full power' look, but the blond just furrowed his eyebrows, failing to decipher Joe's cryptic gaze. "Aw, shit," you mumbled, distracting the both of them just as Joe was about to make a kissy face. Both men shifted their attention down to your phone, where a text chat was pulled up with none other than Jameson. "I gotta bounce, I'll see you guys later." Rising from your seat, you smoothed down your dress over your curves before heading for the door, the heels clicking against Joe's wooden floorboards. "Pray for me, 'kay?" "Pre-marital sex is a sin!" Joe called after you, grinning as he heard your laugh resounding down the hallway just before the door was opened. And then, you were gone, leaving the both of them to spread out a bit on the couch in silence before Joe finally broke it again. "I'm turning this off." "Yeah, might as well," Ben cringed, settling into the couch more and watching as Joe switched his Roku back to the main menu. "Might actually have that smoke break now." "Oh no, Ben, don't leave. We want you here even though you smell like rotten bacon," Joe schmoozed, fluttering his eyelashes for dramatic effect as Ben laughed, flipping him off and sitting up a bit. "Man, the power of the p-" "Stop, I was just being nice! It has nothing to do with... what she has downstairs." Grimacing, he afforded Joe one quick look before he was focusing on the screen again, nervous for whatever reason about the conversation at hand. Huffing softly, he decided to turn it on Joe before he got the upper hand. "Besides, you're the one that let her convince you to turn on this movie and get roasted for a full hour! And you guys looked pretty cozy when I came back with your anti-diarrhea pills." "Lactaid. Just.... call it Lactaid," Joe grumbled, pulling up Netflix and scrolling through the choices slowly. "And we were not cozy. I was just comforting her, is all." "About what?" Ben pried, raising an eyebrow and looking dreadfully curious about it all, a sly grin just showing on his lips. "Looks like you two were just about to snog to me." There's certain types of people who like to be blatant matchmakers. Mrs. Bennett from Pride and Prejudice comes to mind - a person who very clearly is sizing up every eligible bachelor just to place them with a daughter, or a friend, etc. They take pride in very obviously urging a pair of people together, and then like to take credit for it afterwards. Joe was not one of those people. As much as he wanted to match-make with you two, he was not the type who was going to lay it all out on the table for either of you. It wasn't his place, and it certainly wasn't his battle, so he told a little white lie, one that piqued interest but also completely concealed what was really happening. "Dude, she's a little bit too young for me, don't you think? And she was nervous about the date tonight. Doesn't want it to go wrong. Completely innocent." "Sure." Ben remained unconvinced but painfully curious, quiet as Joe finally settled on That 70's Show, snuggling back into the couch and wrapping his arms around a pillow that laid in between him and Ben. "Does she go on a lot of bad dates, then?" "Oh, tons," Joe replied, fighting back a smug smile as Ben went down the exact path Joe had so graciously opened for him. "She's really good at picking the douchebags, you know? A talent that a multitude of women seem to possess for God knows what reason. The one tonight is a real doozy - hear me out." Turning so he was facing Ben, he lifted his hands and formed a picture frame in the air for a second, then grinned. "Jameson. 33 years old. Scrawny looking guy. Man bun! And here's the best part - he's passionate about American Pale Ales." "Oh, Christ," Ben laughed, rolling his head back to let it rest on the couch while he shook his head. "I feel bad for her!" "I don't!" Joe countered, waving the thought of dismissively with a flick of his hand as he went back to watching the show. "She's capable of making her own shitty decisions. We just get to hear about it afterwards." "I still feel bad, though," Ben hummed, raising his head again to stare at the TV for a few moments before clearing his throat, glancing at Joe quickly. "Did she say anything about Bumble, by chance?" Joe smirked. Not a good sign, Ben thought, but he tried not to panic as he watched his friend take another drink of his beer, keeping his eyes glue to the TV and nonchalantly tapping his fingers on the armrest. "Not really. She's only been on this Jameson guy for the last few days and I think he was Tinder." "Oh." Silence followed, then Ben shifted his legs and scratched at his knee nervously, wetting his lips before continuing. "Probably hasn't been on Bumble lately, then, yeah?" "Probably not." Nodding to himself, Ben decided that would have to satiate him for now, and he relaxed back into the couch as much as he could while the sound of Hyde roasting someone went in one ear and out the other. "Jameson going to last long?" "With the way she acts?" Joe tore his eyes away from the screen slowly, meeting his friend's gaze. "No way." Hope flooded Ben's heart once again, and he tried not to smile too wide as he nodded again, trying to play off his excitement with an offhand joke. "If she's so mean to us, imagine how she is to rubbish dates." The two of them considered the thought, then burst into laughter and looked back up to the screen, slowly quieting down and just watching the show with almost imperceptible grins on their faces. --- you: guys you: i'm swearing off of men forever joe-brainer: Finally! joe-brainer: How was Jameson? you: I'M STILL HERE you: i've heard about the difference between hops and malt THREE TIMES you: and he's really serial killer material he's creeping me out you: and he's got an accent?? big ben: Ouch, that's rough. Why are you texting in the middle of a date? you: why are you texting in the middle of ur date you: with joe joe-brainer: Yeah Ben wtf. I thought we had something. big ben: I want to see other people. big ben: Back me up please Y/N You giggled, quickly quieting yourself as Jameson returned with your drinks again. It was about your fourth or fifth round, and you were starting to get a buzz that made this date slightly less miserable than it had already been. But that wasn't saying much at all - as you looked across the table at your date, you almost had to fight back the urge to cry at how lost you felt. How in the hell were you going to talk your way out of this one? "Thank you." Smiling softly, you took a sip of the new lager that he'd brought over, fighting back a disgusted expression as the acrid aftertaste rocked you to the core. Jameson just nodded, offering a small smile before taking a disgustingly large drink of his own, apparently unfazed by the bitter taste. Must have been an acquired one. As you pretended to listen, he launched right back into his tangent about English beers - you'd found out he was from Northern England when you'd asked about his accent, and somehow he'd managed to come back around to that fact every 10 minutes or so. His voice was like a drone as you stole glances around the pub, feeling the spinning feeling in your head grow subtly with each word he uttered. God, why were you here? Yet another disastrous date with a egocentric male who found personality traits in mugs of shitty beer made by shitty local breweries with shitty hops. Or malt. Who fucking knows? "My ex and I actually went to this one village, just outside of my hometown-" Oh Jesus, now he was bringing up his ex. Rubbing your fingers up and down your thigh, you continued to feign interest with a strained smile, but every muscle in your body itched to bolt out of this booth and out onto the street before you were too drunk to walk in heels. God, why did he have to be good looking? That 'no sleep/scrawny/scruffy guy' look always did you in. Ben's name flashed across your screen, followed by Joe, and you sighed softly as you locked the phone again, wishing you could reply. Instead, you flipped the phone over and propped your chin up on your hand, staring blearily at the slight, long-haired man who was genuinely convinced you gave a shit about the 500-year old liquor he got to try with his ex that was probably skinnier and prettier than you - and he'd probably bring that up by the end of the night too. As your stomach rumbled, you slid your free hand to rest on it, regretting that you'd ate so early with Joe and Ben. The chicken had done nothing to tide you over, and the beer was making you crave disgusting things. Images of greasy fries and shitty frozen-patty burgers tantalized you from the back of your mind, and it was all you could do not to sprint down the block to the McDonald's you'd seen on your walk there with Jameson. "I'm going to head to the loo really quick, do you mind? It's all that beer, I swear," he asked, already sliding out of booth by the time you shook your head, sending him off with a warm smile that lasted just a second longer than it took for him to turn around and make his way to the back of the pub. Unlocking your phone, you leaned down to hit your head against the table a few times before pulling up the group chat again, catching up on what you'd missed. The screen was beginning to get a bit blurry, your fingers fumbling as you finally jumped back in. big ben: I don't appreciate being hung out to dry like this Y/N joe-brainer: Ben, come back inside. We can talk through this you: you are both MORONS you: god i fuckin love you guys joe-brainer: Do I spy drunk Y/N? That text was too nice you: idk what's in these beers but it tastes bad and also has fuggggged me up big ben: Uhhhh that's not reassuring. You're buying the drinks for yourself, right? you: asbolutely not you: asbolutey** you: ABSOLUTELY you: not. Joe sent a gif of Jim Lahey from Trailer Park Boys stumbling down the trailer steps, and you replied with a few laughing emojis before locking your phone, putting your head down on the table while a few patrons of the pub looked on in pity. They'd seen your horrid date play out for the last few hours, yet no one seemed to want to step in for the drunk girl who was minutes away from kicking off her heels and taking the subway barefoot if it meant getting away from this self-obsessed, stuffy Brit. Jameson had been throwing you off all night. When you'd found out he was from Northern England, you were excited because you'd picked up a few things about Ben's home country from him over the weeks. But Jameson was different. He wasn't as friendly, for starters. Also, his accent was more aggressive, harsher on the vowels and generally less friendly on the ears than Ben's was. Ben. You missed him. Your mind was all over the place, but those green eyes taunted you from the recesses of your brain, warm and inviting and so clearly not here right now that you felt like crying. Ben would be so nice to see right now - memories of his lush accent lured you even further away from the date at hand, and you couldn't even see a single reason to stay here and be miserable any longer when you had an even better Englishman at your disposal. So much for arm's-length. "I can't do this anymore," you finally groaned, pulling up the group chat again and hurriedly clicking Joe's name, texting him 'SOS send help' in a sloppy manner before locking the phone again, climbing up out of the booth and throwing a twenty on the table. Maybe you'd text Jameson later, apologize for ghosting, but you doubted you would as you stumbled out of the bar, texting your location with another quick 'S O S send englishman i need back up' as you slumped down on a bench around the corner, unbuckling your heels with trembling hands. If this date were any different from the last few that you'd had, you might have been upset. But the alcohol in your system coupled with the constant disappointment of this city's dating scene numbed you to the horrifying disaster that you'd just went through for the last few hours. Your phone buzzed, but you were so worried that it was Jameson that you silenced the ringer, instead heading for (see: drunkenly stumbling towards) the McDonald's sign that blazed just down the block. Meanwhile, Ben was in a panic. He'd been in the bathroom when he received two texts from you that he assumed were meant for Joe, a drunken mistake out of context that set off a very loud, persistent alarm in the blond's head. Though, it had to be noted, he did get a chuckle out of 'send englishman.' At least you were talking to Joe about him. "Fuck, pick up, Y/N!" he muttered quietly, calling you again to no avail. He'd been trying to contact you since you'd sent your location - however, you had all but dropped off the face of the Earth, currently enjoying a Big Mac and a large fry in the window seats of the dingy McDonald's somewhere in Manhattan. "God damn it," Ben muttered, your phone going to voicemail once again as a million possibilities whirled through the blond's head. You could be drugged out, kidnapped, killed, anything terrible - all kinds of scenarios spooked the hell out of him as he exited the bathroom, Joe still lounging on the couch. "Has Y/N texted you?" Ben asked, Joe laughing at something Hyde said on the TV before glancing at Ben, raising an eyebrow. From the current look on his face, Ben suspected that he hadn't a single clue, nor was he really worried about whether you were alive or dead right now. "In the group chat, yeah," he replied noncommittally, taking another drink of his beer as he looked back to the TV. "She's probably just listening to him drone on about local beers still. Wonder if he's trying to explain how American Pale Ales are superior." "Uh-huh," Ben replied vaguely, staring off at the opposite wall as he tried to figure out what in the hell his game plan was here. If you hadn't texted Joe, would it have been for a reason? Did he really need to bring Joe into his panic too, or should he handle this by himself? "I'm gonna head out, I think. It's getting late. Let me know if Y/N texts you." "Okay, Mr. Worrywart," Joe teased, giving a smug grin to the TV that only made Ben roll his eyes before he grabbed his keys, heading for the door. "Bye! Don't forget, same time next week! You better not come back a changed man from Fashion Week!" "See ya," Ben replied, but his head was already out the door and in game mode as he let the door swing shut behind him, heading for his car in the parking garage. As he walked there, he called you again, but no dice. Sighing, he resigned to texting you. big ben: Are you okay? I'm on my way The Big Mac was delicious. You smiled happily as you munched away, completely forgetting you'd just spent the last few hours wanting to gouge your eyes or eardrums out, either or. In fact, you forgot so much that you flipped your phone back over, your fear of confrontation with Jameson filtered out of your mind for the time being. Instead, a few missed calls and a text from Ben greeted you. Furrowing your eyebrows, you put down the Big Mac to reply, fingers still typing clumsily with the weight of the alcohol in your system, grease from the burger smearing on the screen a bit. you: why are you on yourway you: oh fuck HAHAHA i meant to text joe. im sorry you: welp awkward but this works anyways you: but what if i cant finish my bif mac in time you: then what :( At your response, a huge weight lifted off Ben's shoulders as he sighed in relief. You were alive, and getting some food in your system, which was already a good sign. Your spelling and execution? Still a bit concerning, so he climbed into his car and requested your location again, which you obliged to almost immediately. In the traffic on the way, he got anxious. What if you were still with the guy? What if he had to step in? Worse, what if things escalated? He didn't want to have to fight someone tonight, especially someone half his size horizontally, but probably double his size vertically. big ben: Where is Jameson? Is he with you? you: nope you: no idea you: are you on your way im tryinf to eat fast big ben: Don't hurt yourself, traffic is crazy lol. Slow down big ben: For fucks sake, please don't scare me like this again either big ben: When you text SOS from a date, I assume you’re getting kidnapped or drugged or something big ben: Since Joe says you really know how to pick em you: ew wtf you: stop acting like my dad you: do you ever text like a reg person?? you: send a gif once in a while its goodfor ur soul Scoffing, Ben just locked his phone and shoved it in the center console, only digging it out again when he'd reached the location you'd provided. Texting you he'd made it, he watched as you nearly fell off your stool trying to dismount. A worried sigh escaped his lips as he glanced behind him to make sure he was clear before getting out of his car, rushing to meet you as you exited the sketchy McDonald's and cheered, reaching out for him and almost falling in the process. He met you just outside the doorway, your arms flinging around his neck in a messy hug, which he gently reciprocated while mouthing 'sorry' to an annoyed passerby who'd nearly met the wrath of your flailing arms. "Oh, Ben, I'm so glad you're here! I finished my Big Mac!" you informed him, smiling widely and pulling back to watch him with hazy eyes. Trying to ignore how painfully close you were to brushing noses with him, he chuckled to himself nervously and pulled out of the hug, carefully wrapping an arm around your waist to help you to the car. "This is the most excited I think anyone's ever been to see me," Ben joked lamely, but you laughed anyways and sent a light tinge of pink seeping onto his cheeks while he smiled. As you began to walk, you leaned against his side more, rubbing your stomach. "Tummy hurts a little bit from eating so fast." You were almost dead weight against his side, his broad hand gripping your waist tightly and digging into the black fabric that clung to all of your curves. If you weren't deliriously drunk at the moment, he figured he might have enjoyed that brief contact more - but right now, he was just focused on getting you home. Opening the passenger door, he looked on cautiously as you slid your way into the car clumsily, hitting your head in the process and making him flinch. "You okay?" he asked as he walked around the door to reach out for your head, but you just slid down in the seat, giggling and closing your eyes. "How much have you drank? He's got you silly, love." "Ohhhhh, that's a cute nickname. I love that. Love love," you laughed, letting your head loll to the side before opening your eyes again slowly, smiling widely up at him. "Can you call me that more often?" "What, you mean love?" Ben asked, raising an eyebrow as you raised your hand to your head to rub the sore spot where you'd just smashed it against the car. When you nodded and giggled once more, nursing your head, it was all Ben could do not to grin ear to ear. Instead, he forced himself to give you a small smile, then he nodded once. "Of course. D'you mean, like, all the time?" "Yes, yes, all the time," you confirmed happily, letting your eyes close again as the sound of the hazard lights steadily distracted you, the rhythmic clicking drawing your attention away from Ben for a moment. But you couldn't push the sound of him saying 'love' out of your mind, a deep, velvety baritone in that posh accent that made your skin tingle. Although you couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol making you so susceptible or just the fact that he was so damn good all-around, you had your suspicions that it was the latter sneaking up on you. "God, I'm so fucked. Say it again?" Taking a deep breath, Ben tried not to sound too eager as he crouched down on the sidewalk next to you, steadying himself on the car door and clearing his throat. "I hope you aren't gonna make me carry you all the way home, love." Laughing at his mild teasing, you opened your eyes again and had to look around for a moment to find his eyes, your gaze going from the traffic lights down the street, to some strangers passing by, to the McDonald's sign. Finally, you turned your head to meet his gaze, making Ben's heart skip a beat as that same look you'd given him a while ago made a reappearance. It was tender, a soft look in your eyes almost making it look like you were about to cry. Oh. You were crying. "Oh fucking hell, what's wrong?" Ben cursed, fumbling for some napkins in his glovebox as a tear ran down your face despite the peaceful smile that still barely graced your lips. Finally locating the napkins, he began to wipe at your under-eyes, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of your head gently, offering him better leverage. It pained him to see you so upset, and he wondered why in the hell you were crying so hard until you leaned into his hand and gave a little laugh, then spoke. "I forgot to get a McChicken for Joe. He gets so mad when I go to McDonald's without him! Do you think he'll yell at me?" The smile slowly disappeared, replaced by a worried look that coupled well with more tears. Ben's eyes widened as he tried to keep up with the waterworks, but his attempts at dabbing away your tears were pointless as they kept coming, overwhelming him. "Joe's going to hate me, Ben! What if he takes my reclining chair?" "No, shhh, he's not going to hate you. Hey, hey, I'll go in and get one for him. How does that sound?" You sniffled at his words, nodding slowly as you gazed at him, teary-eyed and messy from the sudden crying. He used his thumb to brush some stray hairs out of your face, then offered you the napkins. "You stay here and listen to whatever station you want and I'll go get the McChicken, okay?" "Okay," you mumbled, your voice pathetically plaintive as you took the napkins from him, trying and failing to wipe at your tears as well. "You're so nice, Ben. You're seriously the best, I owe you. Joe was wrong." "Stay here, okay, love?" Ben repeated, trying not to think about your words too much, and he shut the door with a small wave goodbye, locking the doors on you for extra measure. As he bought a McChicken for Joe, he stole regular glances back towards his car on the side of the road where it was clearly not supposed to be, considering he hadn't paid for the meter, but he managed to get the sandwich and go before the meter maid caught him. As he climbed back in, you greeted him cheerily, a slap in the face after the gloomy mood he'd just left you in. "Ben, you're back! Look!" Showing her phone to you, he was greeted with Joe's smug grin, a smile that told Ben he was caught in the lie - well, not really the lie, but the absence of information. "Hey, bud. Did you get my McChicken?" Pressing his lips into a thin line, Ben held the sandwich up to the camera and Joe made a satisfied noise before shifting a little bit, getting comfortable on his couch. "Perfect. I told Y/N I'd hate her forever if she forgot." "Jesus!" Ben cursed, a bit horrified that Joe would be so mean to you when you were this drunk, but you didn't seem to register that you were being played as you looked between the two men, a dopey grin on your face. It was placating enough for the moment, and Ben gave the phone a clear look of dismay before turning his car on, shutting the hazards off. "Joe, we'll be back in 20. Y/N, you can hang up." "Okay," you replied happily, hanging up the phone as you both heard Joe yell something unintelligible about his sandwich. Looking over at you, you grinned despite having bloodshot eyes from the crying, and Ben gave you a reassuring smile as he stole glances at you, trying desperately to watch the road but not doing very well. "I'm assuming your date went swimmingly?" he asked, one hand resting on the steering wheel while the other laid on the center console. Driving in America was odd, so he found it weird to be looking to his right to see you instead of his left, but you were none the wiser as you giggled at his words, shaking your head. "You would not fucking believe," you started, your head lolling to the left a bit as you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus enough to get your story out. "I walk in and I'm like 'Jameson's so cute, but can I call you Jamie?' and this is what he did!" Turning to face Ben, you tried to make your face as neutral as you can before you deadpanned a quick "No." "What a lovely personality," Ben observed, laughing a bit as you pressed a hand to your forehead, amazed at how heated your skin was. "And then I tried to order a drink of my own but he was paying, so he made me get some drink that seriously tasted like straight ass! And then he wouldn't even let me get anything else but beer, and I don't even like beer! And then he talked about his ex!" "Ouch." Ben grimaced a bit at that, sympathizing with you while you rambled on and on about how awful the date was, ending with some complaint about how the beer wasn't even that cold. "Well, at least it's over now, right?" Nodding, you slumped down in your seat, not really caring that your dress was ridden halfway up your thigh at this point. Out of respect, Ben glued his eyes to the road, but there was a creeping redness to his face that was pretty much indiscernible to your drunk goggles. Higher powers seemed to be testing him the more and more he hung out with you. Why hadn't you matched him on Bumble? What did you mean 'Joe was wrong'? The worries plagued him, making his finger tap nervously on the center console as he drove. "God, men are just garbage sometimes," you sighed out of nowhere, Ben lifting an eyebrow at your sudden woes before turning on his blinker, staring ahead at the red light. "Surely you don't mean that. Joe and I are men." "Joe is hardly a man! He screen peeks during Mario Kart." Snickering, Ben couldn't help but smile at that, fascinated by your measurement of Manliness. "I don't know if you screen peek, though. Do you screen peek? I'll never forgive you if you do." "Thank God I don't screen peek, then," Ben reassured you, chuckling once more as you sighed in relief and turned to look at him fully. This would certainly not be the first or last time, but you once again found yourself drowning in his good looks, the world around him spinning but everything about him clear as day. The way the NYC traffic lights reflected in his eyes, his messy hair that had been shaved at the sides - how hadn't you noticed that earlier, before the alcohol? It made him look broader, more statuesque than he already was, which seemed impossible. But most of all, the amused smile playing at the corner of his plump lips, lips that made you chew on the inside of your cheek as you fought back the desperate need to lean across the center console and- "I like your haircut," you blurted out, distracting yourself from your own thoughts, and Ben smiled even wider, looking in the rear-view mirror before looking over at you. The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled adorably as he watched you for a brief moment, his smile toothy and endearing and making him look even more attractive than before. Well, that didn't help. "Thank you. I'm still not sure if I like it, but I wanted to get it cut before Paris Fashion Week, since I fly out the day after tomorrow." "Oh," you replied quietly, images of skinny models and beautiful outfits blurring through your mind. Again, a blatant reminder that Ben was on a completely different level than you - while you had to sit and listen to scrawny men lament about getting paid more than you, Ben could easily take a model back to his hotel room in Paris of all places. A pained look crossed your face, and Ben furrowed his eyebrows in question before looking back to the road, chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought. "That's dope." God, why were you being so lame? "Yeah," he replied just as quietly, baffled as to why you'd clammed up all of a sudden. A minute ago, you were a chaotic ball of energy, crying and cheering and laughing all over the place, and now here you were sinking back into the leather of Ben's passenger seat, tugging at the bottom of your dress self-consciously and forcing yourself to stare straight ahead. You looked hurt, and he wondered if he'd said something wrong again. A minute or two passed in painful silence before Ben cleared his throat, deciding to end the awkward moment and offering you a smile as he spoke eagerly. "I like your dress. It's a shame you had to waste it on such a dickhead. Where was he from, anyways?" "Sheffield. Or some place nearby, I don't know," you sighed noncommittally, resting your head back against the seat and closing your eyes as his attempts to banter with you went unnoticed. The world was beginning to tilt a bit, and being upset about someone who wasn't even in the same ballfield as you was not helping to fix it. "Northern England, for sure." "Oh, fuck those Northern bastards," Ben groaned playfully, smiling wider when he saw the faintest of grins playing at your lips. "I swear we're not all self-important pricks. Don't let him paint a bad image of all of us." "I could never," you murmured, reaching up to rub the side of your face as Ben strained to hear your mumblings over the sound of the radio. Before he had a chance to react, you moved on, desperate to keep the conversation going before you felt like curling up into a self-loathing ball of shame. "Going to Fashion Week to see anyone?" "Nah. Just got invited, is all," Ben replied slowly, still clueless to the jealous heat that was rising from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, making your whole body feel like it was alight. Flames licked at your heart, vaguely stinging, and you tried to push away the pain as you focused on his words, trying to choose your own carefully. "Fun, fun," you mused, opening your eyes slowly and glancing over to see he was casting curious looks at you when he was stopped at another red light, about halfway to Joe's at this point. Suddenly, you remembered that you'd forgotten your shoes at the McDonald's, and you burst into laughter as you pressed your hand to your forehead, a couple more tears springing to your eyes. "I'm such a fucking dumbass! Oh, God, why do you and Joe even hang around me?" "Because it's hard to ignore someone who shares a balcony?" Ben answered tentatively, realizing you were crying again a moment too late and cursing before fumbling for the glove box again, trying to get you more napkins. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that! It was just a joke, love, I didn't mean to make you cry. I swear, I'm not as mean as Joe-" "Ben, shut up!" you laughed, snatching another napkin from the glove box before turning towards your door and dabbing at the tears, in between laughing and bawling at your current situation. "God, you're too nice, stop it! You're supposed to be that Ben that Joe told me about, not apologizing every time I go baby!" Pulling down the overhead mirror, you tried in vain to fix your makeup, sniffling between your slurring words. "I forgot my shoes back there." "Oh. What did Joe tell you about me?" Ben asked curiously, pulling up at yet another red light that was just a few blocks from your apartment building. This one seemed to take forever, though, realization weighing on your shoulders as you wished desperately that alcohol didn't make you vocalize every single thought you had. "I hope it was all good?" "I shouldn't have said that," you hiccuped, reaching up to smack your forehead a few times before laughing and burying your face in your hands, your seat belt struggling to hold you back as you leaned forward and went a bit limp, angry with yourself and upset with Ben for being so curious. "Of course it was all good. God, I'm too drunk for this. Drop me off at the curb and I'll make it back upstairs." It was a green light again. Ben pressed on the gas, side-eyeing you a bit and staying quiet for another block before he took a deep breath, shaking his head. "You said it yourself, you're drunk, so there's no way you are going back up there alone. Friends don't let drunk friends go home alone." Your phone began buzzing, sidetracking any response you could have had to Ben officially calling you his 'friend,' and you lifted it to find that Joe was Facetiming once again. Swiping right, you answered, and Joe's face lit up the screen, prompting a genuine smile from you that didn't go unnoticed by Ben, who was now pulling in to the parking garage he'd just left less than an hour ago. "Hi, Joey!" you answered softly, the sentimental look back in your eyes as you rested your head on Ben's window, watching your phone screen blearily. Ben glanced over at you, trying to keep a neutral expression despite the fact that he was once again convinced that you and Joe were even closer than you appeared. These dates - what did they mean? Were they distractions? As much as he wanted to convince himself that it was just that you guys had been living in blindingly close proximity for over two years, he just couldn't shake the feeling that the touchy-feely nature of your relationship was something beyond that. "Ugh, I told you not to call me that! But hi. Are you guys about here? I snuck over to your place and got your hangover cure ready." Joe's phone shifted, then turned to reveal he was in your kitchen next to two glasses of water and four ibuprofen. "Oh my god," you whined softly, slumping in your seat a bit and fighting back more tears as you smiled at the phone, pressing your hand to your forehead again. "You're too nice to me. I could cry right now." "Please don't," Ben begged, making you laugh a bit in embarrassment and close your eyes, hitting your head against the window a few times. "We're in the garage right now. We'll be there in 5 minutes." "Joe, can you pleaseeeee please please go to my closet and get out my fuzzy white bathrobe?" you pleaded, giving your best puppy dog eyes/pout combo that you could in your hazy state. "I'll do anything." Ben finally found a parking spot, and your eyes lit up when you realized you could climb out, completely forgetting all about your shoes that you'd left behind as you managed to unbuckle yourself and stumble out of the car before Ben could make his way over to help you. Cursing under his breath, he locked the door and shoved his keys into his sweatpants as he hurried over to your side, where you were leaned against the back passenger door of the car and rambling on to Joe about how you really needed your bathrobe to be put in the dryer so it was 'like a warm hug' when you got back. "Why can't Ben or I just give you a hug?" Joe groaned, shuffling through your closet before locating the big white piece of fabric and heading for your dryer. Ben reached around you to shut your door for you, putting the McChicken in his other pocket before raising an eyebrow at you and silently questioning whether you were ready to walk alone again. Confidently, you began your trek back to the elevator, but a few steps and you were already swaying again, steadying yourself on the trunk of his car. Damn, this thing looks expensive. These fucking actors. Sighing, Ben quickly caught up and wrapped an arm around your waist, his keys digging into your side as he supported your dead weight once again and led you towards the elevator. "Because I'm upset with the male species right now," you replied, your actions completely betraying your words as you draped an arm across Ben's shoulder and leaned your head on it, sighing melodramatically. "He wouldn't even let me call him Jamie." Ben could see the amusement even in Joe's horribly pixelated face, the WiFi connection understandably horrid out in the garage, but he chalked the amusement up to Joe thoroughly enjoying drunk you. His free hand went out to press the elevator button as a night security guard eyed you both warily from afar, Ben nodding curtly, and you pressed the button again for what you thought was good measure before closing your eyes, humming tiredly. Ben was warm, and the body heat radiating off of him was dangerously comfortable. "That sounds awful," Joe replied faux-sympathetically, though he seemed more like he was having the time of his life witnessing your dependency on Ben despite the fact that you were basically saying all men were trash. Ben's lips pressed into a thin line, silencing any nagging thoughts as he listened to you continue. "I know! And he made me drink beer all night, and kept talking about his ex, and then he made a fat joke!" You continued rambling about everything that had gone wrong that night, disparaging men in your drunken state while simultaneously leaning against Ben's side, your arm draped around his shoulder and fingertips occasionally brushing against his chest. The elevator rose to your floor steadily, a happy noise escaping the back of your throat when the doors finally opened, and you gripped Ben's shoulder tightly to steady yourself as he led you into the hallway, ignoring the sharp dig of your fingernails in his skin. Right now, he just wanted to get you back home before his arm fell off, his hand almost asleep from how hard he had to grip your waist to keep you steady. When your door opened and Joe appeared, you couldn't contain your excitement, nor could Ben's grip contain you as you propelled forward into Joe's arms, wrapping him up in the tightest hug you'd ever given him. Laughing, he returned the hug as he slid his foot out to hold the door open for Ben, who made his way in with a mildly exhausted look on his face that Joe just barely witnessed. A knowing smile snuck its way onto his lips, and he shut the door as you let go of him, stumbling down the hallway after Ben and making your way to the kitchen. "Joe, you're seriously the best," you practically moaned from the kitchen as you took the ibuprofen and chugged one of the glasses of water, Ben raising an eyebrow as he turned to look at Joe, who shrugged and grinned. "It's like I'm chopped liver or something," Ben remarked, just loud enough for Joe to hear but quiet enough for it to pass under your radar as you started on the second glass of water, drinking it down like a ravenous beast. Reaching into his pocket, Ben pulled out the sandwich and tossed it to Joe, who cheered in excitement and unwrapped it quickly, biting into the partially-cold chicken and not caring one bit. As he tossed his keys on the counter, Ben took a look around your place, realizing he'd never been there before. It was just a flipped carbon copy of Joe's, all the cozy dimensions the same. The two men made their way into the living room where you were fully out of earshot, and both settled into the couch as they listened to you rummaging around the kitchen. "Well, you kind of still smell like it," Joe offered, talking through his sandwich and not bothering to chew at all before he spoke. "I swear to God, if either of you makes another joke about me smelling bad, I'm going mental," Ben hissed, running his hands back through his hair and wincing at the sharpness of the freshly shaved hairs on the side that pricked at his fingertips. "I'm not your girlfriend's Uber, you know? Why would she text me to come pick her up?" Joe grinned and shrugged, very clearly enjoying how irritated Ben was becoming as he took another bite of the McChicken, vaguely gesturing with the hand it was in as he spoke again. "Not my girlfriend, but whatever. Two, ask her. I'm not your couples therapist, Mr. Fashion Week. I can't ask your girlfriend for you. God, the power of the pussy." "She's- you're one to talk!" Ben sputtered out, reaching over to give Joe's shoulder a mild-mannered smack. "Let yourself in to a bird's apartment and get her hangover cure - which you know by heart - ready, and throw her clothes in the laundry for her, and you want to talk to me about the power? Get out. Just stop dicking around already, mate, it's clear you two have a thing and you're just fucking with me at this point." "Ummmm, I believe I'm just a friendly neighbor. You're the one that risked losing a parking spot in the middle of the city just so you could go pick up a drunk girl and carry her home." Ben was gearing up to fire back that he'd never seen two neighbors so close, but at that moment he heard you walking out into the living room, and both of them turned to see you snuggled up in the bathrobe you'd retrieved from the dryer, your dress laying in a heap by the washing machine. "Mmmm, perfect," you hummed to yourself, your eyes just barely visible over the oversized bathrobe that disguised most of your figure. Padding over to the chair adjacent from them, you flopped down it in rather ungracefully and curled up against the armrest, staring at the both of them with a silly grin. "Whatcha talkin' about out here?" "Nothing," Joe calmly lied, taking another bite of his sandwich as he sat back, offering an unassuming smile. "You missed That 70's Show." "I should have stayed and skipped my date," you huffed quietly, pouting as your eyelids fluttered closed and you nuzzled the pillow you currently had tucked underneath you. You were getting sleepy, and Ben could tell that you weren't going to last much longer at this rate. "Jameson was a big, stupid bitch. Why do guys suck?" "Damn, Benny-boy over here drives to pick you up and I get your stuff ready for bed and all guys suck?" Joe questioned, raising an eyebrow and watching as you whined and furrowed your own eyebrows, peeking open your eyes. There it was, the tender look that managed to send Ben's mind into a frenzy once again - he wasn't sure now if it was because he knew crying might come with it, or if you just had that much of an affect on him. "That's not what I meant, Joe, I'm sorry!" Your eyes were starting to look watery, and Ben sent Joe a panicked look that just prompted a heavy sigh from his friend. Taking the last bite of his sandwich, Joe rose to his feet and brushed the crumbs off of his shorts before ambling over to the chair. His hand wrapped around your wrist and he carefully pulled you to stand as you sniffled and whined quietly, tears threatening to spill over - Ben observed stiffly as you fully wrapped your arms around Joe's torso, leaning into his grasp as he started to lead you to your bedroom. "Okay, crybaby, you've trashed males enough and made Ben lose his parking spot, I think it's bedtime, yeah?" Joe asked, wrapping an arm lazily around you and maneuvering you around the maze of your living room before glancing over his shoulder to nod at Ben. "I can take it from here. Night, dude. Have fun in Paris!" "Ben, I'm sorry I made you lose your parking spot! I'm such a bitch," you wailed as Joe made futile attempts to shush you, his hand only partially muffling your cries as he led you down the hallway just like a doting boyfriend caring for his drunk girlfriend. "Bye, guys." Raising his hand, Ben waved once, but neither of you saw it as you whined into Joe's hand, gripping onto his shirt tightly while Joe tried to distract you to no avail. Ben was already no longer in the picture, reduced to a background character while Joe took center stage once again. When you disappeared out of sight, Ben took a long, deep breath before rising to his feet as well, stretching and slowly making his way to where he'd sat his keys before exiting. The sound of you wailing from your bedroom accompanied his exit, and he could faintly hear you in the hallway as he pressed the elevator button, shuffling into the cramped space when the doors slid open with a dinging sound. As the doors closed behind him, Ben turned and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as exhaustion slowly set in. "Fucking hell," he muttered, his voice the only sound in his ears besides the creaking of the elevator shaft, an odd shift from having someone around him almost constantly all night. Though he hated to say it, he almost would have rather been trying to stop you from crying right now - he missed your voice, and Joe's too. The virtual silence was deafening, and a dull ringing sound started to assault his eardrums. The elevator doors slid open, and Ben reemerged to find that the same night security guard from before was watching him curiously, the window to his little shack slid open partially. "She get home okay? Seems like she was quite a handful," the guard remarked, the wrinkles around his face deepening as he punctuated his sentence with a little chuckle. Ben laughed once, nodding as he sifted through his key ring and strolled past the guard's stand, shaking his head. "She's alright. Just had a few too many and needed a babysitter for a little bit." The guard's eyes never left the blond as he passed, his arms folding in front of him as he watched Ben fiddle with his key ring, failing to find the remote to unlock his car. "Must have been hell getting her to settle in. She's lucky she's cute, huh?" That slowed Ben's pace down considerably, and not just because the night guard was out of pocket. He paused in picking his car key out of the key ring, looking up for a moment before nodding and heading to get in his car, his smile faltering just a bit - again, he was reminded that it was Joe up there with you right now, not him. "Yeah. Very lucky." --- sorry i was such a mess last night, i'm 100% paying for it now! thanks for coming to get me even though i'm a straight up moron. and i didn't forget, i definitely owe you... joe says have fun in paris :) Ben reread the text one more time, unable to smile despite the cutesy emoticon at the end. Even though you'd taken the time to message him personally and thank him with an open-ended IOU, there was Joe's name, popping up at the end like an annoying little fly that just kept reappearing despite his best efforts to swat it away. "It's not his fault," he mumbled, locking his phone as he went on to his 16th hour of ignoring your text. What would he say anyways? Hey, no sweat, I basically would drop everything to come pick you up from a shitty date. Actually, why don't I just take you on a shitty date and we can skip- "Blanket?" The flight attendant's voice jolted him out of his wallowing, and he gave the clean-cut man an embarrassed smile before nodding his head, accepting the packaged blanket gratefully. Dealing with his problems was going to be a lot easier when he could sleep them away for the next 7 hours, and then promptly drown them in fancy outfits, rich foods, and outlandish cocktails. "Thanks, mate. Definitely going to need it."

---

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#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #borhap #borhap imagine #joe mazzello #joe mazzello imagine #series

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writingfortoomanyfandoms · 6 years ago

Text

BAFTA Ready

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Summary: Ben and the reader attend the BAFTA’s together

Requested: No (well... kinda)

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: Thanks to everyone who voted for who I should write this fic about! I was just so inspired by how fucking hot they all looked yesterday omg. Please remember to like, reblog, comment and send me asks! I love hearing from all of you guys!

“Can’t you get ready here?” Ben groaned, his hands moving to her waist to pull her back towards him. Y/N giggled, allowing him to move her back to the sofa where the two of them had been lounging comfortably together, binging Black Mirror episodes.

“I need help to look good tonight, Ben,” Y/N said, turning around in his lap so she was straddling his waist, facing him, her hands went to his blond hair that was still messy from sleep, despite them having woken up and gotten out of bed hours ago.

Ben sighed, and Y/N felt him relax under her touch and his head dropped to her shoulder where he placed a kiss to her bare skin that peaked out under the burgundy zip up hoodie of his she was wearing.

“You should just wear this, you look stunningly gorgeous, my love,” his hands ran up and down her waist and Y/N felt heat rising to her cheeks at his sweet words. Her left hand gently reached down to take his in hers, squeezing his rough hand tightly.

“You’re so not allowed to say things like that,” Y/N playfully scolded and Ben chuckled, lifting up their intertwined hands as he removed his head from where it was still hiding in her shoulder and he kissed her ring finger gently.

“You should be used to it by now, future Mrs Hardy,” he teased and Y/N let out a giddy laugh.

“I can’t believe we’re getting married,” she sighed contentedly, kissing his cheek.

“I can’t wait to let the world know that you’re officially mine,”

“I was always yours,” Y/N said, her voice soft and she slid her other hand from his hair down so it was cupping his cheek and she grinned at him. “I always will be,” she vowed and her heart fluttered at the way Ben’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, sparkling with joy at her promise.

“But now it’s explicitly clear that you’re my girl,” his voice was low and heavy as he murmured the words and Y/N pulled his lips to hers, trying to pull him as close as possible.

Ben had proposed to Y/N over a month ago. It had been a spontaneous decision at the time - he had been planning on doing it for months before and had gone out and bought the ring with his friends and had a big speech and outing planned for which he would propose to her with. But, as it turned out, the perfect time for him to propose presented itself while they were at home, early in the morning as Y/N was making pancakes for him at ten o’clock at night after he had had a bad day and Ben realised just how much he loved her.

Ben proposed that night and was over the moon when Y/N said yes.

The two of them had, of course, told their family and close friend - BoRhap boys included naturally. And they had never intended to keep it a secret from the public, they had just never actually announced it and no newspapers/magazines appeared to have picked up on the shiny ring on Y/N’s finger.

The BAFTA’s seemed like the perfect chance to announce their engagement.

“I don’t want you to go, just stay and get ready with the guys and me,” Ben sighed, nuzzling his nose into her neck again and Y/N shook her head affectionately.

“I need to get my hair done properly,”

“Joe can do it,” Ben sighed and Y/N laughed.

“Yeah, that went so well last time,” she grinned, getting flashbacks to the last time she allowed Joe anywhere near her hair and she had to get an impromptu haircut. Ben chuckled against her skin and Y/N could tell he was also remembering that moment. “I should go,” she said and Ben shook his head, pulling her back down as she tried to get up.

“You should definitely stay, you’ll be the most gorgeous woman there no matter what, my love,”

“Sweet sappy son of a bitch,” Y/N laughed, kissing her fiancé again. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” Ben murmured, his eyes shining in utter adoration.

“I can’t wait to see you in your suit,” Y/N confided and Ben chuckled, rubbing her back.

“It’s gotta be good to make sure we look amazing together,” Y/N laughed against his lips.

“Fuck you look stunning,” Ben said, gaping at Y/N as he got out of the limo to open the door for her. Y/N grinned shyly, looking at the ground, awkwardly playing with the material of her dress.

“You look amazing too, Ben,” she said, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

“You look nervous,”

“I’m shitting myself,” she admitted with a giggle and Ben grinned, rubbing his hands up and down her bare arms.

“I’m excited,”

“So am I - I’m nervous about the awards though,” she confided and Ben kissed her forehead.

“I love you,”

“Rami’s going to win,” she murmured and Ben rolled his eyes.

“Not exactly the response I was expecting,” he joked and the giggle rose like a bubble in her throat.

“I love you too, dipshit,” she said, pressing her lips to his in a sweet kiss she had been craving since leaving him in the morning.

“You’re definitely our good luck charm tonight,” Ben said, affectionately wrapping his arm around his waist and leading her back to the car, opening the door for her.

“Y/N!” Joe screeched, launching himself across the backseat to hug her.

“Hey Joe,” she laughed, hugging her friend back.

“Dude you literally saw her yesterday,” Gwilym scoffed from the front seat and Y/N leant across the centre console so she could hug him as well.

“You say that as though I’m not the entire reason for your existence,” Y/N retorted, feigning offence that had Gwilym trying to hold back a chuckle.

“We can’t all be in love with you,” Gwilym teased.

“That’s definitely my job,” Ben agreed, pulling Y/N back so she was no longer level with Gwilym and was instead pressed against his side. He locked their fingers together, squeezing her left hand tightly, giving away his nerves. Y/N returned the action with a comforting smile and pecked his cheek.

“What will you do if we win?” Joe asked, leaning against the car door and Y/N raised her eyebrows at him, a grin playing at the corner of her mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“What will you do?” Joe demanded with a grin. “Like you baked us a cake at the Globes,” he clarified and Y/N nodded in realisation.

“Oh, right, I get you,” she hesitated before shrugging. “I’ll buy you McDonalds?” She offers and Joe cheers.

“At the after party?” Ben adds and Y/N rolls her eyes before nodding.

“Sounds good to me,”

“You guys will win though,” Y/N said confidently and Ben chuckled, kissing her hair.

“You’re our good luck charm,” he murmured into her skin again, causing heat to rise to her cheeks.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,”

“You’re staring,” Joe muttered, leaning over to say the words into Y/N’s ear. The girl elbowed her friend, scowling at him.

“He looks hot,” she defends and Joe held his hands up in defence.

“I’m not disagreeing with you on that,”

“Stop trying to steal my boyfriend!” She demanded and Joe laughed, shaking his head.

“You can have him - I have something way better. Ben Cardy,”

“Watch yourself, Mazzello. Me and Hardy are coming for you and Cardy for cutest couple award,” Joe scoffed at her words, shoving her arm in defence.

“Please, Y/L/N, you’ll have to prise that award from my cold, dead hands,”

“What the fuck are you two even talking about?” Gwilym asked, escaping from interviewers in order to join his friends.

“He’s trying to steal Ben from me,” Y/N stated bluntly.

“You have me,” Gwilym teased and Joe scoffed.

“Stop trying to break me and Ben up - it’s bad enough that we’ve got to have a beard in the form of Y/N. I don’t want Ben getting jealous when he sees me with you too,” Joe sighed in mock frustration.

“Future Mrs Hardy, your man-child’s calling for you,” Gwilym pointed out, nudging Y/N and nodding towards the blond man, who was indeed beckoning towards Y/N with a grin on his face.

“See? He wants me, not you,” Y/N said, sticking her tongue out at Joe immaturely before moving to join Ben in front of the camera.

“So your Ben’s date for the evening!” The interviewer greeted excitedly. Y/N gave a warm smile, feeling the nerves settling in her stomach and she nodded.

“I am,” she confirmed and her smile widened as she felt Ben’s arm snake securely around her waist, clearly having sensed her nerves.

“You look gorgeous tonight,” the interviewer complimented and Y/N cocked her head to the side, beaming.

“Thank you so much! I mean, not a candle to Lucy. She’s stunning,”

“I haven’t seen her yet,”

“She looks drop dead gorgeous, honestly,” Y/N confirmed, feeling her heart swell with love for her friend. “Rami’s a lucky guy,” she added and Ben shrugged.

“I think I’m the lucky one to be honest,” the interviewer clutched her heart, pretending to swoon, causing the couple to laugh.

“That’s adorable,” she commented and Ben shrugged again, pulling a face.

“It’s just true, to be honest,” Y/N turned to grin at him, pushing herself onto her toes to kiss his cheek.

“And I can’t help but notice the ring on your finger,” she added and Y/N giggled, holding up her left hand.

“Guilty,” she admitted and Ben grinned, kissing the top of her head.

“When did that happen?”

“About a month ago now,” Ben shrugged and Y/N nodded, scrunching up her face as she tried to think.

“Give or take,” Y/N confirmed.

“Are you going to be Hardy or Jones?” The interviewer asked and Y/N turned to face Ben, furrowing her brows. He mirrored her expression.

“I... actually have no idea,” she admitted, laughing a little.

“Whichever sounds better,” Ben said and both of the women laughed at his joke.

“Are your cast mates going to be involved with the wedding?”

“I think if we exclude Joe then he’ll either boycott the whole thing or throw a tantrum in the church,” Y/N said honestly and Ben nodded in agreement, trying to hide his smile.

“Well we’re all thrilled for you two, congratulations,”

“Thanks,” Y/N beamed.

“I should let you get on your way but it’s been lovely talking to both of you - good luck for tonight!”

“Well... that was fun,” Ben whispered in her ear as they walked away and Y/N smiled, moving closer to him and turning her head to give him a tender kiss.

“I love you so much,”

“I love you too, Y/N Hardy,” Y/N raised her eyebrows in amusement. “Just trying it out,”

“Ben Y/L/N?”

“Let’s not close all our options,” he agreed and Y/N kissed him again. “Y/N Jones,” Ben hesitated before shrugging, a bashful smile crossing his handsome features. “I don’t care either way, as long as it means you’re my wife,”

Later that evening, as the after party settled down and Y/N and Ben headed home in a taxi, Y/N snuggled up to Ben’s side and was surprised as she got a post notification from Instagram. She looked up at her fiancé with one eyebrow cocked but he responded by kissing her.

It was a series of photographs of the two of them throughout their relationship, ending with one of them tonight at the BAFTA’s, Y/N’s engagement ring on show.

Y/N Hardy sound good to anyone?

#bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast #Queen #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x y/n #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fan #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy fic #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy imagines #Not a request

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nomorelonelydays · 6 years ago

Text

We’ll Be Young Forever, 3.7K. @sidgenophotochallenge

“I’ve never been on the West Coast,” Sidney says absently, as he unlaces his skates.

They’d lost the Cup again. So close, always so, so close that Zhenya had gone to sleep each night dreaming about lifting that weight and shouting into the crowd. Of Sidney’s glowing face, exuberant and pink and looking the way he does when he’s overjoyed and relieved all at once.

Now, he feels nothing save for his own heart, weighing down like a stone. He’d wanted to win the Cup for Sidney so badly. But he always does, every year, since the first time he saw Sidney on the ice.

“You’ve been on the West Coast,” Zhenya mumbles. “We go all the time for games.”

“Oh, well. It’s not really the same.” Sidney’s voice sounds a little funny. But then again, he’d never talked so much after a loss like this. “I think I wanna go back to visit. See the ocean.”

“Okay.” From his experience, there’s really no use asking Sidney to explain why he wants to do something. He looks up. “We go.”

Sidney turns sharply at him. “What? Seriously? You want to come?”

He shrugs. “Is our summer now. We can do whatever we want.”

Sidney gives him another look, then changes into something unreadable. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, okay.”

“I book ticket—”

“Can we drive?” Sidney asks abruptly.

Zhenya blinks. “Sure. But is going take forever.”

“It can be a road trip.” He looks a little cheerier. “It’ll be fun.”

Zhenya’s pretty sure the road from Pittsburgh to the other side of the U.S. is just going to be a lot of cornfields. At least ten hours of corn and the occasional gas station oasis, so he tells Sidney this.

“It’s okay,” Sidney says softly. Something about his tone worries at the back of Zhenya’s mind, but he’s too exhausted to dwell on it. “I want to see everything.”

“A road trip?” Flower says, sounding incredulous. “You hate road trips.”

“Yeah,” Zhenya agrees as he divides up the t-shirts and underwear he’s planning to pack. But he loves Sidney.

He doesn’t say that, though, but he thinks Flower can guess.

“Is Sidney okay?” he asks instead. “You know how he is after a loss. He takes it harder than anyone else.”

To be fair, Zhenya isn’t sure.

He drives to Sidney’s place on a Tuesday, bright and early so they can beat the traffic.

“We’re not taking your sports car, G,” Sidney says, fondly, as Zhenya pretends to pout in the passenger seat. “It’s not gonna fit all of our stuff.”

Which made little sense--the back of Sidney’s Tahoe is mostly filled with Zhenya’s luggage, boots, and backpack. Sidney’s isn’t exactly known for packing lightly, what with his good luck charms on roadies and his first aid kit that he always has in his bag. But all he had brought today seemed to be the essentials crammed in a single duffel bag.

“Where to?” Sidney asks, smiling brightly at him.

Now, without the weight of the Cup looming over his shoulders, he can’t believe he’s nearly forgotten how much he loves it when Sidney looks at him like that.

Butterflies, Zhenya thinks. That’s how Americans would say it. But it’s a modest word for what he truly feels.

“Get out of Ohio, first,” he grumbles, and Sidney laughs.

Sidney gets them out of Ohio in four hours and fifteen minutes. Zhenya doesn’t think he’s seen Sidney floor it like he’s running for his life, and he was pretty sure Sidney would’ve kept going if Zhenya didn’t make them stop at a McDonalds halfway through before his ass melted into the seat entirely.

Sitting there with Sidney, inhaling an entire burger and watching Sidney steal his fries when he thinks Zhenya isn’t looking, fills him with something unspeakable, a little like he’s swallowed a lightbulb.

(He orders two McFlurries for them, watches Sidney hesitate, then dig into his share before going after Zhenya’s, too.)

He hates traveling. He’s never liked traveling, regardless of whether it’s in a car or by air, not with the way his legs are always cramped in the seats, or how everything has to go by a schedule and being late is pretty much his middle name. But listening Sidney hum to the radio as they barrel towards Missouri calms Zhenya hazy, post-loss mind; and seeing Sidney try to stifle his infamous giggle-honk as they pass by an unfortunate produce truck that keeps dropping their apples onto the road as they hit each bump in the pavement, is a such a wonderful, wonderful thing. So much that he starts to think that even without a Cup to drink champagne out of this summer, this is just as good.

Even if Sidney does keep trying to change the station to country when he thinks Zhenya’s dozed off.

It seems that no matter where they are, the motel sheets are always too starchy, and the walls too thin. Zhenya spends the first night doing his best to not look over at Sidney on the other bed, in his reading glasses as he squints at the map on his tablet.

They don’t talk ever about the next season, or the Cup, or what they could’ve done differently, what they should’ve done.

Which is for the best, because all Zhenya can really think about at the moment is how much he actually doesn’t mind losing the Cup, if what he gets in return is spending time with Sidney.

“There’s a museum here,” Sidney reads, “for the town’s first and only saltwater taffy plant. Should we go check it out in the morning before we hit the road again?”

Zhenya couldn’t give less of a shit about taffy if he tried, but if it makes Sidney happy, he’ll buy him the entire candy factory.

There’s nothing particularly eventful until it’s Zhenya’s turn to drive and he makes a wrong turn in Kansas, and they end up at the World’s Largest Ball of Twine.

It’s the most boring thing Zhenya’s ever seen, even worse than the taffy plant, and that had been pretty bad. Sidney is fascinated.

He takes a picture of Sidney adding a piece of twine to the ball and sends it to the group chat.

Flower: What is that

G: biggest ball of twine in Kansas

Tanger: tf

Whatever.

That night at the motel (probably the only non-shady motel the town has to offer), Sidney’s face looks conflicted as he walks back to Zhenya from the front desk, holding a single set of keys for a single room with a single bed.

“How.” He’s not even annoyed at this time. He’s almost impressed that there’s literally no other available rooms in this town whose only attraction is a ball of twine.

“It’s the summer?” Sidney says, sounding unconvinced. “Maybe people are road tripping like us and they’re headed here.”

“Sid,” Zhenya says, very seriously. “This place is like Denny’s. You don’t go here, you end up here. We end up here.”

“Yeah, well,” Sidney shrugs. “I can sleep on the floor, or—”

Like he’s going to make Sidney sleep on the motel carpet after they’ve both been stuck in a car after a whole day of driving. He’s pretty sure that qualifies as a cruel and unusual punishment.

His thoughts pretty much all fly out of his head when Sidney slides himself into bed on his side, all soft t-shirt and pajama bottoms, his cheeks flushed from the shower as he towels at his hair. Zhenya just settles further into the mattress, his laptop burning a hole on his thighs as he tries to ignore how much he loves the idea of a scene like this, with Sidney freshly showered and settling in to bed next to him like a routine.

When he turns out the lights, his heart’s beating so fast that he’s afraid Sidney can hear it. He turns with his back facing Sidney for a while, shutting his eyes and trying to will himself to fall asleep—it should be easy, because he’s exhausted, but—

“G?” Sidney’s voice says, sounding very small. “Thanks for coming on this road trip with me.”

“Of course,” he replies, turning his body so he’s curved towards Sidney. “No big deal.”

“No.” Zhenya can’t make out his face in the dark, but Sidney sounds like there’s a stone lodged in this throat. “I know you have vacation plans, usually, like Florida. Or you go home to Magnitorgorsk, to family. I’m just a—I’m not—”

“Sid.” He fumbles to find Sidney’s shoulder, before Sidney can say anymore. “I want to be here. Happy be here, with you.”

Sidney doesn’t say anything for the longest time, until Zhenya realizes he’s crying.

“Sidney,” he breathes, then gathers Sidney into his arms without sparing a second thought. “Oh, Sid.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t win us the Cup,” he hiccups, and it tears at Zhenya at how inconsolable he sounds. “I wanted to win it together—”

“Sid, no, no, can win next year, is okay—” He rubs Sidney’s shoulders, holds him close, like he can contain all of Sidney’s grief.

“There’s no time,” Sidney says, shaking his head. Zhenya feels Sidney’s hands, gripping the back of his t-shirt. “I’m out of time.”

Sidney’s not making sense. “What you mean?”

He scrambles to turn on the lights, nearly knocking off the lamp in his hurry to do so. Sidney face is raw and blotchy as the dim, butter-yellow light bursts to life, and it cuts into Zhenya something fierce.

“Sid, what you mean?” he repeats, more urgently. Something’s off. This whole trip, so impromptu, so unlike Sidney to just suggest it out of the blue without already having planned every gritty little detail for months and months, and the way he packed—it was like he never intended to come back. “You hurt? You retire? You—”

Sidney doesn’t look up, but he’s so close that Zhenya can feel his shuddering breath against his neck.

“I’m dying,” he says, and it sounds exactly like he’s admitting something he’s known for years.

It just about stops Zhenya’s heart.

(Years ago, Sidney Crosby’s knees should have been shattered irreparably in a peewee game. He would’ve never been able to play again, much less even make it into the NHL.

Sidney remembers the moment the spirit came to him—the old god that inhabited the rink, gazing over him as he lay in a broken heap on the ice. Invisible to the coach, the paramedics, invisible to his mother crying as she hovered helplessly over Sidney.

Potential too great to be wasted here, it had intoned, almost musing to itself. What would you like me to do?

Time slowed. The pain in Sidney’s knees dulled into the background as the noises faded.

“I want to play,” he’d begged. “I want to make it to the NHL.”

What would you give for ten years?

“Anything,” he’d said, and even then he knew that he’d said something very, very terrible.

The spirit shimmers. Ten years in the league, it says, waving its hand over Sidney’s legs. In exchange for your heart. You will always live on borrowed time, and the end of your tenth year will be your last. Do you accept?

“Yes,” Sidney had whispered. “Please.”

When Sidney blinks again, he’s standing on the ice again, five minutes before the hit happens.

This time, he dodges it, and goes to score the game-winning goal.)

Zhenya’s attempts to persuade Sidney to see the team doctor, or a registered curse breaker, goes unheard.

“They’ve looked at it. It’s marked me,” Sidney tells him when they cross the border into Colorado. Miles and miles of desert road stretches between them, front and back, so far that that the Pittsburgh they left just days ago seems a century instead. “It’s not like I haven’t tried. But they can’t even touch the mark because it’s been woven in so deeply. It’s old magic. It’s not Cup magic."

“Have you tell anyone else?”

Sidney smiles, still looking out the window at nothing in particular. “Just you.”

He manages to croak out a pathetic, “Sid.”

“I’m glad I told you,” Sidney murmurs. “I’m glad it was you.”

“When--” He can hardly speak. “When you think--”

“I don’t know.” Sidney’s staring down at his lap, picking at the cover on his phone. “I’d always thought at the end of the season. Soon, I think.”

Zhenya says nothing.

“It’s not so bad,” Sidney says, at last. “I got to meet you this way.”

Zhenya concentrates on the road ahead of him, and thinks of nothing, nothing at all, so the stinging brimming in his eyes don’t overflow.

They drive through the night, the Colorado skies above them sparkling.

Sidney doesn’t say anything. He brushes his teeth when they get to their room and goes to sleep on the separate bed without turning off the lights.

It’s dim in the motel room, and Sidney’s back is facing Zhenya on the other bed, but Zhenya’s known Sidney long enough to know that neither of them are asleep.

“Want get fries?” Zhenya asks, towards the ceiling.

Sidney doesn’t respond immediately, and Zhenya thinks for a moment that he might’ve been wrong, after all, that Sidney had never actually been awake.

“Can we get chicken nuggets too?” comes the reply, timidly.

“Only if you share McFlurry.”

Sidney rolls over on his side so he can turn on the light. His eyes are a little red, but he’s giving Zhenya a warm, shy smile. It suddenly reminds Zhenya of the Sidney he met, years ago, when Zhenya spoke no English and Sidney no Russian but both of them still full of hope for their futures, for each other.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll share.”

It’s a peace offering. An apology, even, for everything he’s unable to say.

It’s one A.M. in a nondescript Utah motel when Zhenya dares to say, softly, “Sid, come here.”

Sidney does, wordlessly, from the other mattress. Zhenya scoots back enough on his own bed like an invitation. He’d only meant for Sidney to share the other side of the bed, like they did back in Kansas, but Sidney takes his outstretch hands and folds himself into Zhenya’s arms, carefully, like he’s always belonged there.

His breathing evens out as soon as Zhenya turns out the light. He presses his nose against Sidney’s nape and tries to memorize his scent, the span of his back against his body, and the way he feels solidly, blessedly warm—alive—beneath Zhenya’s fingertips.

There’s a small town county fair halfway across Nevada, all bright lights and delighted yelling of children begging their parents to go on the roller coasters, or for another ice cream cone. They hadn’t intended to stop, and Sidney hadn’t asked to, but Zhenya took one look at his face and signaled right to go into the parking lot.

Hours later, they’re sitting on the grass with their prizes—a hard-won teddy bear after Sidney battles it out with the ring toss about six times in a row, and Zhenya with his funnel cake and ice cream—waiting for the fireworks.

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it to California,” Sidney laughs. “I didn’t realize it’d be so far. I don’t even know if I want to go see the ocean anymore.”

“What you mean, you didn’t realize? We drive for days and now you say you not want to see?” It’s a relief, being able to joke around.

“No, I mean, I figured it was gonna take a while.” He sighs contently. “When I said I wanted to see the coast, I think I was treating this whole trip as a bucket list.” His clears his throat, pointedly not meeting Zhenya’s eyes. “But I think, uh, I just wanted to spend my last summer not being by myself again. So. Thank you.”

Sidney’s face is lovely, illuminated by the carnival lights, and even more so when his eyes crinkle. Zhenya can’t quite decide if he wants to cry or kiss him.

Sidney straightens, then turns excitedly towards Zhenya. “I think they’re gonna start soon—”

Zhenya leans in, his mouth pressing gently against Sidney’s lips as the first round of fireworks explodes into stardust in the sky above them, all pinks and reds and whites and greens like the colors of Zhenya’s heart.

When he pulls back, Sidney’s quiet. For an awful moment, Zhenya thinks he’s ruined it all. “I’m sorry—”

“Kiss me again,” Sidney says suddenly. “Please.”

Zhenya does.

“Oh,” Sidney breathes out, his eyes fluttering as he sinks onto Zhenya’s dick, the slide velvet and hot and tight and just about enough to kill Zhenya a thousand times over. He’s a mess as he squirms on Zhenya’s lap. “Oh, o-oh—G—”

The motel sheets are starchy and scratchy as they’ve always been, foreign against their skin. But Sidney makes everywhere feel like home, so it hardly matters anymore.

Zhenya flips them both over--his hand gripping Sidney’s thigh like he can’t get enough--so Sidney’s on his back. He hooks an ankle over his shoulder, pressing in slowly until Sidney’s toes curl and his eyes flutter. With every angle change, Sidney sucks in a breath like he’s drowning, his cheeks flushing deep red, as if he’s never—

“Sid, you—you do before?”

Sidney’s eyes fly open. His hands, both pressed against Zhenya’s chest, start to pull away as if ashamed. “I—um. No, not…no.”

Zhenya grabs Sidney’s hand before he can retract, pressing the knuckles to his lips. Then he bends down to kiss Sidney sweetly, until Sidney’s shuddering and mewling against Zhenya’s lips again.

“Don’t leave me,” Sidney pants--it’s a plea and a prayer all at once, as he digs his fingers into Zhenya’s back.

“I won’t,” Zhenya promises. “I won’t. I’ll take care.”

There’s something shapeless in the corner of the room when Zhenya blinks awake the next morning, shifting and stirring like fog. Sidney is still asleep in his arms, snuffling as he tucks his head in the crook of Zhenya’s neck.

The thing doesn’t come closer, but it doesn’t leave its place in the shadows either. Zhenya holds Sidney close, his heart racing.

“I know who you are,” he says in Russian. “I know why you’re here. You’re not taking him.”

When the thing speaks, its voice thin and crackling like ice breaking against steel, comes not from the room where it stands but as if echoing from inside Zhenya’s mind.

I’ve been waiting.

“You’re not taking him,” Zhenya repeats. “I won’t let you.”

I know, it says simply. I have no claims to what he doesn’t own.

“What are you talking about?” Zhenya demands, feeling braver than he had any right to, talking to an old god like this. “You made a deal with him. A heart for ten years.”

His heart was never his to give. I knew this when I offered him the deal.

“I don’t under--”

You already laid claim to his heart then, as he’d done to yours.Your mark is all over him.

(‘They can’t even touch the mark because it’s been woven in so deeply,’ Sidney had said. ‘It’s old magic. It’s not Cup magic.’)

“That’s not possible--” He’s not a magic user, he doesn’t--

Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin, the thing says, cocking its head quite unnaturally, did you think that this was the first lifetime that you’ve loved him?

Zhenya’s mouth goes dry. “Then why did you help him?”

Potential too great to be wasted, it says. Then, after a pause, What would you have done to save him?

“Anything,” Zhenya says, because it was the truth.

Stupid, the thing says, but it sounds amused. But you said the same thing last time, too.

When Zhenya blinks again, the shape had vanished, like it’d never been there. Sidney lets out a soft sigh, like he’s been unwittingly holding in his breath for decades.

“Geno?” he croaks, his voice heavy with sleep. “What’s going on?”

“I—” He shakes his head, nuzzling into Sidney’s curls and kissing his forehead. He’s pressed close enough to Sidney that he can just about imagine feeling the continued beating of Sidney’s heart, counting down the moments to the next season, and the season after that, like a promise. “I think everything going to be okay, Sid.”

How’s the road trip going? Flower’s text asks. You two kill each other yet?

Zhenya takes a long, indulgent look at Sidney, who’s got a ratty Malkin t-shirt on as he fishes another vending machine tortilla chip out from the bag. He’s completely focused on the shitty motel television that’s doing its best to play Groundhog Day. Sidney’s head is pillowed on his shoulder, close enough that Zhenya can lean over to press a kiss on Sidney’s hair whenever he wants.

He sends a photo of TV instead, the angle barely concealing their tangled legs.

Zhenya almost wants to laugh when Flower calls them immediately. He’s still grinning all the way through Flower’s frantic exclamations that he can barely understand as Flower’s accent starts to become more pronounced, because he’s so, so fucking happy.

He lets Sidney take the phone, and he hears Sidney murmur, gently, “Mhm. Yeah. Yeah, he’s--Yes, we’ll come over--mhm. Yeah. It’s good. It’s really good.”

“There it is,” Sidney says, leaning over the railings from their motel room deck, looking at the span of the waves lapping against the California sand. “The other side.”

Zhenya plasters himself against Sidney, his arms wrapped securely around his waist.

“What now?” he asks.

“Do you enjoy long walks on the beach?” Sidney teases, reaching up to card his fingers through Zhenya’s hair.

“I do,” Zhenya tells him. “If is with you.”

Zhenya thinks he can hear the smile in his voice. “We can sightsee before we have to go home.”

He loves the way Sidney says the word ‘home,’ loves the curve of his mouth and the fullness in his chest at the implication. “No more twine.”

“No more,” Sidney agrees. “Maybe we can go to Disneyland or something.”

“And then go home, win another Cup?”

Sidney laughs quietly, but he sounds confident and in love when he replies, “For sure.”

#sidgeno photo challenge #round 4 #magical realism #probably plot holes too but just if you see one just file that under magical realism #road trip AU #omfg here we go I HOPE IM POSTING AT THE RIGHT TIME AJGALKDGAL #i've went back to edit this post too many times in the last 3 days just take it

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kisskissbanggang · 5 years ago

Note

I’m at the end of my period right now. However I seem to be having these massive sugar cravings. This only usually happens when my period is about the start. Like lately I’ve been craving StarBucks Frappuccinos or a Tim Hortons Iced Capp. Luckily I’ve been fighting them off and replacing them with healthier alternatives, but it’s quite annoying. Has this happened to you before, and if so, how did you deal with it?

My responsible answer is fruit! I love apples and oranges when I'm craving sweets and looking for a healthier alternative. Homemade smoothies are amazing, and my personal favorite is adding 1 cup apple juice to a blender with 1 cup of assorted berries and fruits (I like a nice combo of strawberry/banana/mango) and maybe some extra banana or plain yogurt if you want it creamier and thicker. You can also make apple chips in the oven really easily, and are delicious with a tiny amount of cinnamon sprinkled on top!

My honest answer is that I deal with it by just giving into it. When I'm being good I'm tracking and counting and being mindful, but when I'm crampy and bloody and moody it just feels good to have a tall Java chip frappuccino and a couple vanilla bean scones, you know? It doesn't hurt that my current menstrual cycle is like 70 days, so this isn't often. The worst is the dreaded Taco Bell craving. Like every few months I'll get this insatiable craving for a shitty Taco Bell bean burrito and get one and regret it immediately. I'm actually in the midst of my period right now and thankfully the fast food craving of the moment is McDonald's which is one of the easier ones to deal with. It's not like I'll overdo it, but it's nice to just give in every once in a while.

This is also another reason I keep a bag of chocolate chips on hand, aside from impromptu baking needs. It's just nice to grab a couple morsels to tide you over until your craving goes away, yeah?

#mail #yogierunnernctzen

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moonbeambucky · 7 years ago

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The Price of Gold (Part 3)

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 3019 Warnings: flashbacks within flashbacks, fluff

Summary: As a sports journalist you’ve traveled the world interviewing famous athletes. You’ve loved your job up until you find out your next article is on the last person in the world you ever wanted to talk to, Lance Tucker.

A/N: This doesn’t follow The Bronze canon though some film details are mixed with real world events. Written for @green-eyeddragonfanfiction Dragon’s 3k Follower Creative Content Challenge. My prompt was “I can’t be in love with you!” gif source (x)

PART 2 | THE PRICE OF GOLD MASTERLIST

Logging off your computer you looked around your desk to make sure things were in order, quickly unplugging your phone charger from the USB port before stuffing it into your bag. Heather caught up with you near the elevator, she was still overjoyed for your trip which you needed to get home and pack for.

“When was the last time you went back to Florida?” she asked.

Your mouth pulled to the side as you scanned your memories, “About three years ago, when my parents sold their house.”

They downsized to a condo in St. Petersburg near the water so your father could finally buy a boat and enjoy his retirement. You remember the trip vividly, coming down for a long weekend to assist with packing and finally clearing out your old bedroom.

As the cab turned down your block all of the memories of Spring Hill you had left behind suddenly hit, making your stomach uneasy. You couldn’t help but gaze over towards Lance’s old house, shuddering as you pictured the countless times you spent there.

Running inside your house quickly you hugged your parents, choking back tears as you saw how your childhood home was packed away into boxes stacked up in the living room. You looked out to the pool, a luxury you did not have access to in New York.

It had been retiled some years ago but otherwise it remained the same. It was the place you could go to de-stress, floating on an inflatable chair as you soaked up the sun’s rays, the place you had fun, laughing with friends as you jumped into the pool splashing everyone with a cannonball, and all of the times you spent there with Lance.

“One, two, three, go!” you said, kicking off the wall, moving your arms and legs in tandem as you swam across to the other side of the pool. Reaching the wall you saw Lance had stopped midway. “Come on!”

“I… I can’t!” he quivered, swimming back to the starting point of your impromptu race.

Lance stood up, reaching his arms back on the edge of the pool and pushed himself to sit, his feet dangled in the water as his head hung low. Swimming back towards him you did the same, nudging your wet arm against his. “What’s wrong?”

Lance wrestled with his emotions, he was ashamed, feeling too scared to swim in the deep end of the pool. He was ten years old, he wasn’t a baby anymore so why did he feel like one? He wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed over the fact that he was scared or that you would find out the truth about why he’s insisted on playing games and swimming in the shallow end of your pool. He was certainly glad his father wasn’t there; he would have slapped him, told him to be a man and thrown him into the pool without regard.

Lance turned to face you, insecurity swirling in the blue of his eyes that matched the water below. The corner of your lips pulled into a little smile that matched the tilt of your head, the pleading look in your eyes reminded him that he could tell you anything and so he did.

“Trust me, I won’t let you drown,” you said, plopping back into the water and reaching your hand out for him to follow.

With hesitance Lance slowly slipped back into the cold water, swallowing a nervous gulp as he stared at you. Dipping his shoulders below the water he prepared himself to swim but quickly lost his nerve again.

“Lance I promise. If you panic I’ll help you.”

Fear took hold of him and Lance nervously chewed his lip. “What if you can’t?”

You firmly gripped his bony shoulders, speaking with the conviction of someone twice your age, “Trust me.” You loosened your grip but kept your hands on his cool skin until he nodded, a nervous smile making its way to his boyish face. “Besides, I’m a mermaid, remember? I’m Ariel and you’re Prince Eric.”

“But Eric drowned,” he added.

“Nooo,” you sarcastically said, “He almost drowned but Ariel saved him just like I’ll save you.”

His fear was still present but the kindness in your eyes helped Lance gain a bit of confidence and he was ready. You swam beside him, looking over to make sure he didn’t stop halfway or panic. When he made it all the way across he gripped the edge of the pool with one hand, wiping the water off his face. Pulling him in for a congratulatory hug he yelped, not wanting to slip away from the edge where his fingers were turning white with his forceful hold, but despite his minor panic Lance smiled. He was able to swim across because of you.

When entering your old bedroom you were surprised to see how it changed. Your parents had converted it to a guest room and office. Your furniture was in the same spot but now childhood trinkets that previously occupied the space were boxed away in the closet, replaced by decorative items like globes and vases.

It was the boxed items you were there to sort through. Pulling them out of the closet you opened them one by one, coughing as the dust scattered in the air. You made three piles; things to take back to New York, things to donate and things to throw away.

You set aside some stuff you hadn’t taken during your initial move from home, like old photo albums and your yearbook. You tried on a couple of clothes, and spent more time than anticipated as you read old notes you and your friends had passed during class before throwing them away.

The notes reminded you of the box you had yet to encounter, the one you remembered throwing everything in as tears streaked down your cheeks. There you were, face to face again with it– the Lance box. You stood unmoving, staring it down as if you were in an old Western shootout. Your heart beating rapidly as you faced your enemy, a stupid cardboard box, and yet it had the power to hurt you more than any bullet ever could.

Your fingers itched as you contemplated the box. You could just throw it out, place the whole thing in the garbage and never look at it again. It’s not like you needed anything in there, what could you do with Lance’s old shirt? Yet part of you yearned to open it, to travel down memory lane one last time no matter the consequence.

Sitting on your bed you placed the box in front of you, tugging open the folded cardboard to reveal the contents inside. Lance’s shirt was in there, crumbled up and covering most of items. It had an old smell to it as you took it out, shaking out the wrinkles to see Bugs Bunny and Taz in street wear, a ridiculous trend that had you laughing to yourself. Tossing the shirt into the donation pile you looked down at the box again and lost your smile.

An endless pile of photos of you with Lance stared back at you. You flipped through them quickly, not wanting to linger too long on the memory of each. The rest of the box was filled with random things, old notes, movie ticket stubs and even some old McDonald’s Happy Meal toys. Your heart sank however when you looked at your old teddy bear with Lance’s first gold medal around his neck. You remember how proud he was, not to have earned first place in the competition, but to give it to you just to see the smile on your face.

Tears stung at your eyes and you felt that was your cue to stop. You threw the photos back in, not bothering to move the toys to the donation pile, you wanted this box closed and thrown out. You hugged the bear, feeling the cold medal press against your skin as you silently said goodbye. A pang of guilt rang through you for placing the bear in the box with the rest of the memories to be thrown away. The bear’s dark plastic eyes stared back at you, silently screaming its innocence. You knew it had done nothing wrong and yet you couldn’t separate a silly teddy bear from the memories of Lance. A tear slipped out, running down your cheek as you sealed up the box and brought it outside.

Your mother recognized the box you carried and questioned if you wanted to throw it out. You scoffed at her. Really? She knew what happened and she has the audacity to question if you want to keep these memories? You grabbed large garbage bags to take back into your room for the donation pile, insisting you did not want or need anything in the Lance box.

After finishing your own items you helped your parents pack away the last of their things before you said a final goodbye to the place you grew up in. Your dad was ready to drive you to the airport, taking your suitcase to the car as you and your mother finished saying goodbye. She glanced over towards the large pile of garbage, her lips pressing together into a tight line as she eyed the box you had thrown out.

“Dorothy still lives there you know,” your mother said.

Your shoulders slumped down at her words, exhaling a heavy sigh. You were headed back to New York and with your parents moving you would never be back in Spring Hill again. If there was any time to say hello to Dorothy Tucker it was now.

“I can’t see her mom,” you said, struggling to keep your voice from faltering. It broke your heart to say it; Dorothy was like a second mother to you but after Lance that was all over.

Your mom wrapped her arms around you, rubbing your back comfortingly before you got into the car with your dad, saying goodbye to Spring Hill forever.

Your apartment was upside-down as you packed for your trip. Two weeks. You’re scheduled– no, being forced into spending two weeks with Lance Tucker. Two days would have been enough for the story as you insisted to Sue, though two minutes would be too much for your liking.

With ear buds in you dialed your parents, slipping your phone into the pocket of your hoodie as you roamed about the apartment gathering things together to pack.

“Hey mom. How’ve you been?” you said, waiting for her response. “Yeah I’m good. I’m actually coming to Florida… Yeah an assignment,” you answered her, stopping in your tracks as she asked who you would be interviewing.

“I can’t say yet,” you lied, a trait you’ve been doing a lot lately.

You didn’t want her to rehash the past. Your mom had been the biggest supporter of you and Lance and though she was there to comfort you at your lowest point she also encouraged you to talk to him. She knew you were hurt but she didn’t think you should lose each other over what happened. Lance was immature but so were you, making a snap decision to end everything instead of talking through things. Your mother saw the big picture and she always thought you would end up with Lance, watching you grow up together, seeing your friendship blossom into romance, she was just as hurt when it ended.

“Maybe we can get together on my birthday,” you suggested as it would occur during your trip. You were hoping to get away from Lance for a bit to see your parents, anticipating yourself becoming upset by having to see him.

“Oh honey, if Dad and I knew you were coming down we would have switched our cruise,” she fretted.

“It’s alright, this was last minute,” you sighed, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice, “I forgot about the cruise, where are you headed?”

You finished packing as your mom excitedly discussed her upcoming trip, pulling your suitcase next to the front door and staring at it with disdain. You travelled quite often for this job spending more time out of the office than in it, looking forward to every trip up until now.

Landing in Tampa you felt the heat the moment you stepped off the plane. The sun was stronger than you remembered, especially for the morning. You made your way to the transportation floor, having previously arranged a car service to pick you up for the drive to Spring Hill.

You felt overdressed as you walked through the terminal, seeing groups of people in casual clothing, shorts and flip flops. You would be making it to your hotel with just enough time to check in, drop your things off in your room and meet Lance for your interview so you had dressed accordingly, a beige blazer and skirt with a sleeveless rose colored blouse and heels to match.

As your driver kindly placed your suitcase in the trunk you took off the blazer, folding it neatly beside you. You pressed yourself back into the cool leather seat of the car, shutting your eyes to try and focus. You felt your stomach twisting itself into knots the closer you got to your destination. This was really happening and you dreaded the thought.

After arriving at your hotel you had a few more minutes to spare than expected so you quickly brushed your teeth, reapplied your lipstick and made sure you smelled good, not for his sake you told yourself. Grabbing your bag and laptop, you looked over yourself once more in the mirror, smoothing out your skirt and blazer. You can do this.

Lance had suggested meeting at a restaurant for the interview but you insisted meeting him at your hotel. Not that you were really keen on the idea of him knowing exactly where you were staying but you hoped things might progress faster if you just got right to business, not wanting to make any nostalgic detours if you ventured anywhere else with him. You were also hoping that the buffet area of this lovely Holiday Inn might make him a little uncomfortable, and thus concluding your time together at a much faster rate.

A wicked grin spread across your face as you entered the area. A deep red carpet with a muted gold design spread across the floor with an array of cheap wood tables complimented by green vinyl cushioned chairs surrounded the area. Generic artwork of flowers in vases hung around the room.

You marveled at how the hotel looks lost in an undetermined time, not quite the ‘90s and yet not quite modern either. It was the perfect setting to make Lance Tucker itching to get this over with, as you’d be subjecting the pompous “God of Gymnastics” to the meager value hotel graciously provided by your job.

Only one table is occupied, by a family of four whose exhausted parents look like they have been drained of their energy and can no longer attempt to calm their rambunctious children. Perfect! You leave a table in between yourself and them, not wanting to be too obvious with your plan. If Lance killed the interview completely maybe there was a shot you could recoup the interview with Neymar. You grabbed two bottles of water, specifically Zephyrhills, Florida’s “unique” tasting water, setting them down on the table, though you wished you could replace yours with Vodka to get through this.

Be short, be curt. Stick to the facts. This is business. Just business, you reminded yourself as you waited for his impending arrival.

Lance had an agenda as well as he had felt the bitter coldness of your words during your correspondence to set up this interview; you had clearly not forgotten the past. Lance hated thinking about that. He threw himself into being the best, gaining the spotlight, seeking the attention of others when deep down he only wanted yours. He spent plenty of nights alone with his thoughts, regretting what he did, what he didn’t do and what he should have done. But that was the past.

His future was uncertain in many ways and he had become too wrapped up with something that weighed heavily on his mind to worry about your hatred of him. So he decided to put on a show, be Lance “The Fucker” Tucker as he was previously regarded. If you continued to hate him that would make this easier, you would write your article on him and he would get the attention he needs for his gymnastics center.

His plan was easier said than done because the moment he caught a glimpse of you sitting at the table, standing out like a diamond amongst dull rocks, he almost broke down. He wanted to run to you, throw himself at your feet and let apologies pour out from his mouth as fast as the tears that threatened to fall.

He moved back, hiding behind a wall as he regained his composure. Remember Lance, remember the plan. He began to sweat, unzipping his blue track jacket to reveal a crisp white t-shirt. He dragged his hand down his face wiping harshly at his skin. Remember. He erased his frown with a cocky smile, putting on his sunglasses, unnecessary for the fluorescent indoor lighting but it helped him hide the truth he might not be able to hide. With his shoulders up and his back stiffened he took a few deep breaths before walking towards you.

Lance strides in confidently, swaying towards the table as his voice catches your attention, “Well, well, well, look who’s back in town.”

Suppressing an eye roll (and a profanity) you bite your tongue, scrunching your nose at the overpowering amount of cologne he wore. Forcing a tight smile you remain seated but gestured for him to join you at the table.

“Thank you for meeting me Mr. Tucker, I–”

“Cut the bullshit Y/N. Let’s get down to why you’re really here,” he smirked.

PART 4

#dragon’s3k3c #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker x you #lance tucker fanfic #lance x reader #lance x you

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