#there are a billion more layers to this in my head but im trying to get my thoughts written down more in a bid to get used to writing again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theplanetm4rz · 4 years ago

Text

tiger lilies, self destructing, and richard siken

pairing: peter maximoff/reader

summary: to peter maximoff, love is an anomaly that scares him more than anything else. however, you might be able to help him overcome his fear.

warnings: language! but that’s about it. kind of cheesy at some points but yknow what im not lactose intolerant

notes: this is the monsterous fic thats been kicking my ass this past week (6.2k words babey!!!) i was originally going to add ~~steamy~~ section to this one but i decided against it to make it readable for those who don’t wanna see that kind of stuff. if you want me to separately publish that then just lmk!! (if any of yall wanna talk about richard siken to me then please do, his work is so good)

taglist: @stranger-names , @gooseyhouse , @parkersdarling

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- no pun intended. His speed is a blessing, but also a bitter curse. He moves at the speed of sound, bouncing off the walls and tearing up the roads; he moves impossibly fast, and no one ever tries to catch up with him. People get tired of Peter rather quickly, not bothering to get attached to him when they know they can’t keep up.

That’s why it’s so jarringly startling when you decide to stick around. When faced with the grand decision of throwing in the towel and leaving Peter behind or sticking around and trying your best, you chose the latter. It was surprising, to say the least. Peter waited patiently for the distance between the two of you to start growing; he waited for the void you once filled to open up again. However, the void never emptied, and the distance never grew.

To anyone else, this would be a wonderful experience. Knowing that you wouldn’t be left behind or forgotten about would be comforting to anyone else in Peter’s position. However, this did the exact opposite for Peter. He wasn’t comforted or relaxed, on the contrary, he was always on edge. The future was cruel, and the mystery of it all felt like torture.

To quote the great Richard Silken, “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Peter lived and breathed by this ideology, that everyone he loves would have to leave eventually, whether it be by their own volition or not. It was obvious that you didn’t plan on abandoning ship anytime soon, so Peter decided he’d take matters into his own hands. If you weren’t going to be the first one to walk away, then he’d be the one to run away from you. He soon came to learn that loneliness was at its most bitter when you’ve come to taste the sweetness of love.

Love was a strange, complicated beast that Peter Maximoff had never dealt with before. If he were to be completely honest, love scared him. It scared him more than dying scared him. To Peter, death was an escape. Death was the end of a tiring journey, it was safe and simple and easy. Love was the opposite, it was the mouth of a dragon and the edge of a blade. It was the beginning to something so fragile and powerful, something that could end in flames.

Peter realized he loved you on a summer afternoon. The sun was shining and you were in the shade. He sat down next to you, and within minutes Kurt and Ororo appeared at your side. They seemed so put together, so sure and strong. Peter felt out of place-- he felt as if he were standing outside of a cabin looking in through the window at your wonderful friendships. He watched with his nose pressed against the glass as you walked across the room and opened the cabin door to let him in.

Peter realized he was in love with you in the middle of the night. A thunderstorm raged outside the mansion walls and raindrops kept time as Peter walked down the hallway. You were sitting on the floor of the common room next to a dying fire, a book clenched tightly in your hands. For a moment, he just stood against a wall and watched you. As creepy as he felt, a part of him believed he’d ruin your night by making himself known. He was okay with being a fly on the wall if it meant he’d get to see you. Peter wondered if there was a world where he had the pleasure of knowing you, without you having the burden of knowing him.

Still, you saw him. And you knew him. And you waved him over with a smile. He felt the urge to run, to leave you here alone with yourself, but he stayed put. Then, one step at a time, he moved forward. He got closer and closer before he found himself standing at your feet.

“You’re welcome to stay,” you told him. He believed it. Peter sat down next to you, letting his shoulder brush against yours.

“What’re you reading?” He asked. Peter already knew what you were reading, he read the cover of the book the moment he sat down, but he still wanted to hear it from you.

“Crush by Richard Siken,”

“Oh. What’s it about?” Peter already knew what it was about. He’d read it at least fifty times.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. I’d much rather just read it to you and let you decide for yourself,” Peter’s stupid little heart lurched, and he almost cried at the thought. He held it together, though.

“That would be nice,” He said softly.

“Sorry about all the writing in the margins, I can’t help myself sometimes.” Peter scanned the sides of the pages, marveling at your notes. Some of them were reactions, littered with exclamation points and question marks and bold letters. Some of them were underlined phrases and little doodles-- most notably a little drawing of a chameleon on a tiger lily. He loved them.

“It’s okay. Literature is meant to be marked up-- what’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?”

“That’s a good point,” You grinned. Then, the reading began, and you allowed Peter to rest his head on your shoulder as you read to him. Even though he’d heard the poems a billion times by now, they sounded brand new coming from you. He listened closely. You were arriving at his favorite part, “You are Jeff” section 24.

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you...” You read on, not noticing the way Peter’s eyes had shifted from the book you were holding to your face. Peter’s mind wanders, and he curses himself for missing the lines you were reading “... You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.”

Peter felt like he was going to cry. You kept reading and he kept looking. It was getting late, and Peter was getting tired. Your voice had softened and slowed, and the fire that was burning in the fireplace had all but died. Peter was the one that fell asleep first, and you followed closely after. Both of you had lingering smiles on your faces.

Intimacy is an odd thing, isn’t it? Thinking critically, intimacy is just vulnerability with more layers. It’s the closeness between people, it’s allowing yourself to connect with someone you care about. It’s stripping yourself down to muscle and bone and hoping the other person doesn’t let you bleed out. It’s a level of trust that is more than closing your eyes and falling backwards; it’s closing your eyes and letting them push you over the edge into the unknown, and trusting them enough to know you’ll be okay when you hit the ground.

It didn’t take long for Peter to realize that he had trouble with being intimate with other people. Too many times had trusted someone to push him over the edge, only to realize he’d be shattered when he hits the ground. After that, he decided intimacy was overrated. It’s not like anyone was going to have that kind of relationship with him, anyway.

Of course, then you came along and uprooted his entire worldview, like you had with everything else. He found himself thinking about you at every waking moment, which inevitably led to him… thinking about you at every waking moment, if you catch my drift. Sure, intimacy involves more than just physical intimacy, but Peter knows he can’t ignore the feeling that rises in his stomach whenever he’s around you. For the first year or so of your relationship, Peter became very familiar with the feeling of an ice-cold shower.

What Peter didn’t take into consideration was you. For some reason, Peter struggled to understand the fact that you were just as attracted to him as he was attracted to you. It was no secret that Peter was insecure, but he never really realized how much his insecurity affected his relationships. If he couldn’t love himself, how could anyone else? Peter is the only one who gets to see his persona in its truest form, and every time he has to avert his eyes. It’s safe to say his physical appearance has been the cause of very many painful-- and occasionally tear-filled-- sleepless nights.

He told you this. He told you everything. He told you about Erik, he told you about his childhood, he told you about everything he loved and hated and feared and yearned for. That ordeal alone was scary enough, knowing that at any moment you could decide you didn’t want to deal with him anymore, but as always, you stuck around. You told him everything. You told him about your family and your struggles. You told him about everything you loved and hated and feared and yearned for, and not once did Peter even think that he wanted to walk away. This is the kind of intimacy that, over the years, Peter had struggled with less and less.

Still, it was the sexual aspect of intimacy that freaked him out. It was a beast he’d never dealt with, a feat he’d never faced. That being said, as every day went by Peter became more and more… frustrated. He didn’t know how to approach the subject, so he'd just let the subject approach him and wing it.

And as he sat on his bed watching as you twirled around to Tears for Fears “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”, Peter realized he didn’t have much to worry about.

“Dance with me, dollface,” you laughed, reaching out for him. You looked like someone straight out of a movie, the lim blue light coming from Peter’s arcade machines illuminating a halo above your head. You put Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevez to shame. Peter took your hand, grinning like an idiot as you twirled him around.

There he was, dancing in his mother’s basement with his favorite person in the entire world. He wasn’t a great dancer, and neither were you, but that didn’t matter. Peter was dreading this visit-- he hated the idea of being back in the basement that made him feel like a failure. But you assured him that you’d be there with him, and that getting to see his family would make it all worth it. His family isn’t what made it worth it, though.

“Brain Damage” by Pink Floyd came next, slower and a bit more somber, but still danceable. Your arms shifted to around his neck, pulling him closer than he already was. Somehow, you ended up with your back against the wall as the song came to a close. He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

“I love you,” Peter spoke softly. This was a small victory-- he’d been so scared of the mere idea of loving someone. You were the only one who got to hear his love confessions. They were for you, and for you only.

“I love you too,” Peter would never, ever get tired of hearing that. Knowing that you love him is enough to keep him going for a hundred years. And he knows the odds, he knows that love is rocky and painful as much as it is beautiful. He knows that love can feel sweet in the beginning and go sour overtime. He knows that first, second, third relationships don’t always work out. But he thinks this is going to work out. And Peter doesn’t think this will ever go sour. Maybe that’s his blissful ignorance talking, maybe he’s jinxing it, but at this moment, he doesn’t care. Right now he is at his happiest, at his most content.

“You wanna watch a movie?” You asked softly, pecking Peter on the cheek. He could feel the warmth radiating off of you, and Peter grinned. In an instant the tv across the room began playing the opening credits to the first movie that popped into his head.

“The Breakfast Club?” You questioned. Peter shrugged.

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a good coming-of-age kind of movie,”

You sat against the headboard of Peter’s bed, allowing Peter to settle beside you. Your head rested on his shoulder, and he was quick to grab your hand. Peter loved the closeness. Over the past year, he’d come to realize he was a very affectionate person. Previously, Peter hadn’t known soft, physical love; the only time anyone would ever touch him would be as punishment or defense, not love. Love. Peter had gotten more comfortable with the idea of love, because when he thinks of love he thinks of you.

Every good story has a villain. A villain that you love to hate, or hate to love. A villain you can sympathize with, a villain you can’t excuse, a villain that the mere mention of makes you sick to your stomach. An unexpected villain. An obvious villain. A villain that’s just trying his goddamn best. Sometimes the villain is defeated, sometimes the villain changes their evil ways. Sometimes the villain dies and the crowd cheers.

Peter Maximoff never thought he’d be the villain of his own story. He tried his hardest to be a good person, but there was always that side of him that made him afraid. He was like an explosive; whenever someone got too close, he’d detonate and destroy everything around him. It was a self-defense tactic, albeit counterproductive.

It killed you to see him that way. He told you about the relationships he’d lost to himself. He told you about the abandonment and the loneliness. It broke your heart. He tried to distract himself, drowning himself in work so he’d never have the opportunity to ruin what he had with you. Peter Maximoff was a walnut tree; every time he planted his roots and began to grow, he’d kill anything that grew too close. However, the constant working started to wear Peter down.

It started with the late nights. He’d collapse next to you at four AM, knocking out the minute his head hit the pillow. Still, he’d be awake before you were, already scrambling around trying to complete various tasks. He was like a machine that was running from it’s problems. The late nights turned to all-nighters, and the few hours Peter managed to salvage set aside for sleep had shrunk to a few minutes at a time. He didn’t eat anything with even a hint of nutritional value. At this rate, he was going to work himself to death.

The worst part? Peter knew what he was doing. He wasn’t stupid. He just needed to shut up the little voice in his head that urged him to act out. The entirety of his childhood, Peter destroyed what he created. The need to be isolated, the feeling that he deserves to be alone spread throughout his body like a cancer. He locked himself away in the basement, trying desperately to stay out of everyone’s way so they wouldn’t shut him out. People tried to coerce him out of his cave, to pull him out of the bottomless pit he threw himself into. Peter saw them as the sirens trying to lure him into the ocean of loneliness, and he wasn’t going to fall for it. In his eyes, anyone who tried to help him were the villains of his amazing, heroic tale. Fortunately for him, one by one, they started to give up on helping him. They thought he was a lost cause; a fucking loser who was destined to wallow in his own self-pity until he died. At first, this was a triumph. He defeated them, he outwitted the sphinx and slayed the dragon. But a part of him hated himself for becoming the worst-case scenario that every parent feared their child would grow up to be.

He pulled himself out of his pit and back onto his feet, all by himself. It was hell on Earth, but he did it. That cancerous feeling of uselessness retracted back into itself, now residing in the place next to Peter’s heart. However, that horrifying fear of becoming a burden began to grow again, this time when Peter was in his mid-20s. He began to overcompensate, and that led him to where he was; always on the brink of collapse, running on nothing but coffee and twenty minutes of sleep. In return, Peter got to have friends. In his mind, that was fair. In your mind? Not even close.

You managed to catch him in his bedroom as he was in the midst of simultaneously scribbling in a notebook and reading an open novel. Peter Maximoff would always be the most beautiful person in the world in your eyes, but at that moment, he looked like hell. Your plan seemed foolproof, but then again, you weren’t sure what you were walking into. Lately, Peter didn’t seem like himself. Probably because of the lack of sleep.

“Peter?” He looked up at you, eyes half-lidded. “I got you something.”

“You did?” A sleepy smile was all he could muster, but that was google enough for you.

“I did. It’s to mark exactly three years since I first met you,” you sat down on his bed, placing the small wrapped book right next to you. Peter glanced at the calendar on the wall-- oh god, you were right. It’s been three years to the day and he forgot. He deserves the title of “World’s Worst Boyfriend”. Scott will probably be upset that he’s losing his title.

“What’re you up to?”

“Finishing up some old work I’ve been putting off,” he punctuated his sentence with a yawn. “Some of my old work and some of Hank’s, too.” “Why are you doing Hank’s work?”

“He seemed stressed about something, thought I might help clear his head,” The sentiment is sweet, you’ll give him that.

“Alright, well, can we talk for a minute?” Alarm bells went off in Peter’s brain. There has never, in the history of the universe, been a good conversation that started with ‘can we talk for a minute?’ or any of it’s cruel variants.

“Actually, I’m kind of busy right now, can this wait?” It was obvious that the answer to that was no, but still, he felt the need to ask.

“Not really, no. It’s important.” Peter saw the next few seconds playing out in his head. The inevitable had come to fruition; you realized that you could do better, and now you were cutting him loose. He couldn’t blame you, not really, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to rip him to shreds. He realized that whatever you brought for him was most likely a parting gift. How sweet.

“Oh. Alright.”

“Well, I’m going to give it to you straight,” you sighed. “I’m worried about you, Peter.”

Oh. He’s heard this speech before, he knows the spiel. He can vaguely recall a guidance counselor telling him the exact same thing before Peter decided to call him a slew of expletives. The tar pit in his chest began to grow.

“I’m fine.” This was a lie. The first lie in a long chain of lies that Peter was about to tell to you, his favorite person in the world. He loved you, but in that moment his vision clouded over. You weren’t the person he loved and cherished anymore, no, you were just another faceless blur that provided a temporary escape.

“Really? I feel like you’re pushing everyone away, you’re pushing me away.” Peter was becoming more and more irritated by the second.

“I told you, I’m fine. I’m not pushing you away.

“Don’t lie to me,” your voice is firm and unwavering. “You don’t sleep, you almost never eat-- I don’t think I’ve seen you stand still for more than three minutes once in the past month--”

“That’s just how I am,” Peter huffs. He wanted this conversation to be over. “That’s not your problem.”

“Your wellbeing is my problem, Peter, that’s the whole point of being friends with someone. Even more so now, because you’re my partner and I care about you--”

“Then stop,” Peter rolled his eyes. He's more irritable than normal-- most likely because he hasn’t slept in days. He could almost feel the venomous arms of isolation creeping around him. It’s a sick pattern, he knows; every time someone gets close to him, he feels the need to self-destruct before they lose interest. Even now, even after all this time, Peter’s still powerless against the poison in his veins.

“What?” You’re losing your reserve and your stature. He can tell. You’re slouching and picking at the cuticles on your thumb. It’s almost as if he’s been shoved into the back seat, and is now being forced to watch as a stranger takes the wheel and crashes the car. So much frustration, so much hurt, and it’s all coming out right now, onto you. Peter already regrets this entire interaction, but still, he manages to spit acid.

“Stop caring. Just leave, I know you want to. I know every night, you lie awake and think about all the different ways you can leave me in the dust. Not that it would matter to me.” This is another lie. Your eyes flash with hurt, but you stay put. You know he’s just being an asshole because he’s exhausted and too stubborn to admit that you’re right. He’s egging you on intentionally, trying to get you to snap and walk away.

“Peter, god, I love you but sometimes you can be so...”

“So what? C’mon, be honest with me,” He huffed.

“Frustrating,” You surrendered. The poise you once held was gone. “I know it isn’t your fault-- I know you’ve trusted so many people so deeply and been betrayed or sold out and I know you’ve loved so many times and been thrown to the curb without a second thought. But I don’t know what I can do to convince you that I’m here for you, and that I love you. I’ve tried everything, and it feels like I’m talking to a brick wall. I want to make this work, but I need you to work with me.” It’s evident in your voice that you’re desperate. You’re just hoping you’ll get through to him, somehow. “I need you to want it as bad as I do-- hell, I need you to want it at all.” Here it comes--

“You ever think, maybe, I just don’t want you to be that person for me? I’ve spent my life being independent, my entire existence so far has been built around the fact that I’m going to end up alone. People come and people go-- people like you and Charles-- and they tell me they care. They tell me that they love me and that they're here for me. And then they get tired of me and they leave. I wish that you would just leave me the fuck alone and let me live in solitude,” There it was. The lie to end all lies. The words tasted awful coming out of his mouth, and the whole ordeal left his mouth tasting very… sour. Peter had to look away, he couldn’t look at the expression on your face.

“Fine. If that’s what you want.” Your eyes never met his, but you paused before you exited the room. “I know you’re probably just… I don’t know, going through something, but you’re being an asshole. Don’t talk to me until you’ve sorted your shit out. Enjoy your solitude.” You left the room impossibly fast, your fists clenched so tightly Peter feared that your nails would break the skin on your palms. He struggled to keep it together-- why the fuck did he do that?

Peter collapsed onto his bed, and it’s only then that he realized you left behind the gift you got him. A part of him thought he should return it to you, but the other part of him urged for it to be opened. He tore the wrapping paper off before he realized what he was doing. The hardcover book the wrapping paper concealed was handbound, the cover littered with your beautifully familiar handwriting. In big, bold letters The Best of Poetry in the Humble Opinion of Y/n L/n was scrawled at the top.

Peter vividly remembers a late night you spent talking to him. You told him about your favorite poems, outlining each and every little detail you loved about them. Some of them he’d read already, some of them he hadn’t, but all of them sounded like artwork coming from you. He opened the front cover, and you’d written something else on the inside.

“In the words of the wonderful Peter Maximoff, ‘What’s the point of reading if you don’t get to share the love?’. This is me, sharing the love.”

Carefully, Peter opened to a random page in the book. He saw the notes in the margins and the doodles and the exclamation points and before he knew it Peter was on the verge of tears. He was barely containing himself, and then he read a specific annotation you made.

He had opened to the first page of “The Worm King’s Lullaby”, one of your all-time favorites. A specific line was underlined, one that Peter was all too familiar with: “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Beside it, you wrote:

“As much of a genius Mr. Siken is, I have to disagree with this. If you love someone enough, you’ll never leave them and they’ll never leave you. Even if they die, even if things don’t work out, you’ll always have a little part of them to carry with you. Carry this part of me with you, Peter. Not that I plan on leaving anytime soon.”

That was it. The floodgates broke. Everything that Peter had held back came pouring out-- the past 10 minutes finally caught up with him, and they hit him like a bus. He sat in the corner of his bedroom, his knees pulled up to his chest so tightly he thought his legs would snap. Peter wanted to rip all his hair out or punch a hole in the wall or hold his head underwater until he was nothing but an obituary and a headstone. His chest burned and the pit of despair inside his chest had overtaken his system, and he hated himself with a burning passion. Why did he do that? Why did he do that? Why the fuck did he do that?

Peter Maximoff had his breakdown in solitude, revealing in the fact that he was, undeniably, the villain of his own life.

As it turns out, ‘getting his shit together’ is much harder than Peter originally anticipated. He's trying, he really is, but it's hard. Especially without you there. Peter knows that he fucked up, and he knows that he needs to work for your forgiveness. And don’t worry, he’s going to work for it.

It had only been a week, but the entire mansion could tell that something was off. Life just wasn’t the same without the randomized gusts of wind that would knock people off their feet; no one had been seriously injured or had something stolen from them. The whirlwind that was mansion life, while still chaotic, lost it’s fun.

Charles tried to keep things running smoothly, but he was an old man and didn’t exactly understand you and Peter. People would knock on your door every now and then, but you didn’t answer. You were much too busy analyzing exactly how much of a bitch you were being-- realistically, the answer is 0%, but you didn’t see it that way. No, from your perspective, you saw Peter having a mental breakdown and you ditched him. Pretty shitty move.

What you didn’t realize was that Peter was doing the exact same thing, however, the blame falls mostly on his shoulders, and boy does he know it. He’s been scripting his grand apology, trying desperately to find the right words to express exactly how sorry he is. Peter was never very good with words-- it’s always too hard to know if you’re going to say the wrong thing and mess everything up. Although, it’s hard to see how the scenario could get any worse.

He made the executive decision to start with “I’m sorry”-- a solid start to any apology. Sure, he could stop there, but Peter realized that he’d probably need more to win back his partner. So, he managed to scribble down a few more lines on a tiny notecard he was supposed to use for studying. Oh, what a wondrous redemption arc this would be; Peter gets into a fight with his wonderful partner and ruins their relationship and then struggles to come up with a coherent apology.

“I’m sorry about what I said, that was shitty. I shouldn’t have said that.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. God, he was going to die alone, wasn’t he? Maybe this is the cruel punishment the world is dealing to him, the universe is deciding that Peter’s redemption arc would be better if it, well, didn’t exist. Even so, he isn’t planning on giving up or giving in just yet.

He scrapped what he had so far and started at the beginning once again. His 9th grade english teacher would tell him to write about what he knows, and though he doesn’t know much, he’s an expert when it comes to himself. Peter knows how he feels about you, he knows how sorry he is, and he knows that he really, really, really wants you to know that he didn’t mean a word he said about not wanting you. Peter knows about love, at least a little bit, and he realizes he’ll need more than just words.

His mind drifts to that night, years ago, in front of the fireplace. He vividly remembers a tiger lily and a chameleon scribbled in the margins of your book. Realistically, Peter couldn’t get his hands on a chameleon, but a tiger lily was a different story. In high school, Peter took a botany course because he thought it’d be easy. It wasn’t, it was boring as all hell, but it seems like his slacking paid off. He knew tiger lilies were indigenous to Asia, but they’d become quite common along New England-area roadways.

Peter grabbed his jacket and took off, tearing through the roads like his life depended on it. In less than 10 minutes, Peter found himself in the middle of New Hampshire drenched in rain. In hindsight, he probably should’ve checked the weather before leaving. Nevertheless, he takes off into the small wooded area that laid passed the road’s end. Dozens of mushrooms dotted the muddy ground and mossy rocks clouded his peripheral vision. The rain begins to lighten as he spots a bright orange tiger lily peeking through the remains of a tree stump. He sprints over to it.

The tiger lily is bloomed and beautiful and Peter can’t tear his eyes away from the wide array of speckles and splotches and color. It’s pristine, but some of the petals are torn or wilting. The roots stretch into the stump below it, and Peter leans closer. The stump is old and worn, fungi and bugs eat away at the base next to a large hole where a family of worms reside. The stump is ugly, sure, but it’s useful. It helps keep the bugs fed and keeps the worms warm. There’s a metaphor here somewhere, but Peter is too distracted to find it.

He gently picks the flower and spins on his heel, taking off once again. The rain makes it harder to run, but it’ll take a lot more than water to stop Peter. By the time Peter gets back to Xavier’s the flower is a little crushed, but it’s still somewhat pristine.

He has the flower, he has the apology, and now all he needs is courage. Thankfully, that courage comes quickly as he instinctively knocks on your bedroom door. He probably should’ve stopped to collect himself, but he was riding a wave of adrenaline that wouldn’t come back.

“Go away, Jean,” You called from inside. You sounded tired, and it made Peter sad.

“It’s-- uh-- it’s not Jean,” Peter can hear your hesitant footsteps approaching the door, and suddenly the courage he managed to build up drained. His hands are shaking by the time you open the door. You look up at him, and Peter looks back at you, and suddenly everything is much harder to do. He looks down at his feet.

“Hi.” Your voice is hoarse, but clear.

“Hi.” Peter’s voice is uneven and quiet. You stand there in silence for a minute before Peter pipes up again.

“So, uh, you’re probably still mad at me and I get that, but I just want you to hear me out. I-If that’s okay,” You nod slowly, and Peter takes a deep breath. He thinks about the written apology that sat in his coat pocket, and he makes the last-minute decision to forget about it. He’ll speak from the heart, or, whatever people in rom-coms do.

“I’m sorry. It was really shitty of me to get angry at you because you were worried about me-- although, I guess shitty is an understatement. Everything that I said about, yknow, not wanting you or Charles or anyone else around anymore wasn’t true. I need you guys, and I love you guys and it was unfair of me to push you away. Solitude really sucks. I guess I’m just not very good at navigating relationships,” He exhales, and his chest shudders. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I just thought I should make it clear how I feel.” It’s only then that he remembers about the tiger lily in his hand. “Oh, and this is for you.”

“A tiger lily?” you smiled softly. “These are my favorite-- how did you know?”

“I’m just observant, I guess. You usually draw them when you’re bored, I figured you’d like to see one in person,” You gently took the tiger lily in your hand. The silence that hung in the air was deafening, and Peter realized that was probably a bad sign. His chest drops just a bit, and he takes a small step backwards.

“I guess I should probably leave you alone--” Peter can’t get very far, because you immediately jump forward and wrap your arms around him. Eyes wide and heart pounding, you can feel Peter’s arms lock around your waist.

“Thank you,” You whispered. “Please don’t go.” Peter was smiling so hard his cheeks ached, and a horrible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The close-contact was refreshing; he didn’t realize how much he missed it until that moment. He was pretty sure he would never, ever let you go. Not again.

To Peter Maximoff, physical affection has always been a touchy subject-- that is, until you came along. You proved to him that he deserved physical affection, that his mutation and his personality and weirdo quirks didn’t make him lesser or unlovable. Peter Maximoff deserved love, and you were the one who never failed to love him.

You sat on a wooden chair in front of the fireplace, reading to the group of children sitting at your feet. The emotional lines of “Snow and Dirty Rain” fell from your lips, and with every turning syllable the small group would listen just a little bit closer. Peter did, too, desperately trying to hear every single word you said. Class was almost over, and once the students were dismissed you’d probably stop reading.

“I made this place for you. A place for you to love me. If this isn't a kingdom then I don't know what is,” Your eyes tore away from the page to look at the kids at your feet. They fell upon Peter, and a smile erupted on your face.

Peter vaguely recalls the twisted idea of love that he held as a teenager. He thought love was a dragon to be defeated, a battle that could be won or lost. It’s clear now that love is the opposite-- it isn’t a fight or a battle or a thing to be conquered. It’s more like a flower; it needs to be cherished and cared for in order to grow. Sometimes the flower wilts and dies, and that’s natural, but sometimes the flower lasts for a lifetime.

Love wasn’t a dragon or a knight, it didn’t have a hero or a villain; it was much more like a tiger lily and a tree stump.

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x reader #wandavision #xmen fanfiction #xmen

300 notes · View notes

worldwidemochiguy · 6 years ago

Text

Reticence (soft! Yandere Hoseok)

Summary: You were always terrified of getting kidnapped when you were younger, and now that you’ve been taken by a man who claims to want to take care of you, you recede within yourself so far you refuse to even eat... but Hoseok is determined to let nothing hurt you, not even yourself.

Warnings: Kidnapping, kind of Stockholm syndrome, mentions of not eating so if you’re sensitive to that kind of stuff pls be careful <3 Yandere behaviour, though I am kind of romanticising it in this fic, please remember that that is all it is: Fiction. Obviously in real life this behaviour would be unacceptable and horrifying.

Word Count: 2.2K

Masterlist :)

a/n: my first hobi fic!!! this is for @kpopgirlbtssvt from a request made about a billion years ago (sorry :/ ) for made-for-each-other verse! Yandere Hobi with a shy reader who wouldn’t talk even though he begged her to, and then him coming home from work to her telling him she missed him and was glad he was home. this was a lil less fluffy and a lil more angsty than i intended, but its still a ‘happy ending’ bc im a weak bitch with simple pleasures, what can i say lmao

Reticence

“What do you want for breakfast, sunshine?”

Silence.

Hoseok sighed, then straightened up again, walking over to the refrigerator. You remained sat by the kitchen island, empty gaze fixed on the marble countertop.

“Omelettes it is, then!” He exclaimed with artificial excitement, trying to be cheery in the face of your taciturnity, but even the sunshiney optimist that was Hoseok was finding it more difficult than he expected. He had hoped that by now you would’ve accepted him, but you remained as quiet and unresponsive as the day he brought you home. Not that you thought of it as ‘home’ yet, but he hoped you would eventually. Hoseok was not a patient man, but he was willing to wait forever for you.

You didn’t even blink when he set the plate down in front of you. It didn’t seem like you were going to attempt to eat it either. Hoseok sighed. He could understand if you didn’t want to talk to him yet — even though it had been months and he’d been nothing but kind to you — but he drew the line at refusing to eat.

You had lost weight. The cute cheeks he loved to watch bunch up as you smiled were now sunken. Your beautiful figure which he had admired from afar was starting to become worryingly waif-like. Hoseok frowned, a crinkle between his brows forming for the first time as his usually exuberant features warped with agitation.

“Listen, Y/n-” Hoseok sat down at the kitchen island across from you, bracing his forearms against the table and leaning forwards. “You have to eat. I promise there’s nothing in it that could hurt you. Look, I’ll even eat it myself!” Hoseok carved out a small piece of the omelette and popped it in his mouth, exaggerating his chewing and swallowing. “See?” You offered no reaction, and Hoseok felt his disappointment join the omelette on its way down to his stomach.

“I can understand that you maybe aren’t so happy with me right now, but that doesn’t mean you have to punish yourself. Just, please, please stop shutting me out.” His pleading tone did nothing to move you. You just sat there like a ghost, and a groan of frustration slipped out of Hoseok.

“Please! I’m begging you! Just eat! I don’t understand, all I want to do is take care of you! All I want to do is love you, why won’t you accept me? Why won’t you even talk to me?”

The only sound was Hoseok’s harsh breaths after his outburst. If he couldn’t see the slow rise and fall of your chest, Hoseok would think you weren’t alive at all. He slumped in his seat, allowing himself to wallow in self-pity for a moment, before forcing himself to get up and ready for work. When he passed through the kitchen again on his way out the door you were still sitting there, staring at the countertop.

The front door banged shut, the sound echoing in the apartment. Then, silence. And then, very quietly, the noises of cutlery moving against a plate and chewing.

~~~~~~

“I don’t know what to do~” Hoseok whined, his head buried in his hands. Around him, his shocked friends were gathered in an informal circle. Each of them had an expression with varying degrees of surprise and confusion — they had never seen Hoseok, the literal personification of sunshine, so dismayed.

“It’ll be ok, Hoseok. I know it’s bad at the moment, but you just have to wait until she trusts you. Once you achieve her trust, you’ll both be the happiest you’ve ever been.” Taehyung reassured him. Taehyung was obviously the source of authority, since him and his wife were basically the perfect couple.

“But what if she never trusts me?” Hoseok fretted, before groaning again. “She won’t even eat! I don’t know what to do, I’m just watching her slowly starve in front of me and she won’t even look at me!” The rest of the group paused as they digested this new information. It seemed this girl was particularly stubborn.

“Force feed her then.” Jin shrugged and Hoseok’s head shot up in outrage.

“No! I could never hurt her like that!”

“You’re hurting her by letting her starve.” Jeongguk pointed out, and Namjoon smacked the back of his head, chastising. Meanwhile, Hoseok looked like he was about to cry.

“Listen, Hoseok, are you sure this girl is the one?” Jimin questioned, bracing his clasped hands on his knees.

“I know she is.” Hoseok replied with a conviction he rarely used. “The second she came into my life, it was like I was born again and she was the first thing I saw. The only thing I could see. Her face- God, it just… glows. She’s like sunshine. She’s an angel. She’s so beautiful and kind and fragile and I want to protect her from everything, and I don’t deserve her but no one else does either and I know we’re meant to be together. If I thought I could’ve let her go, I would have. But I can’t. I have to have her, she has to be mine.”

The circle of men was quiet for a second, before a quiet chuckle broke the silence.

“Well then,” Yoongi rasped, “if she’s all that you say she is-”

“She is.” Hoseok interjected fiercely.

“Then all you can do is have a little patience.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It was incredibly boring being kidnapped. Especially when your kidnapper did nothing interesting except make bad food and dance along to music from the TV surprisingly well and cry sometimes when you wouldn’t look at him. Frankly, it would have been easier if he were more of the torturey-type, because it was really hard to stay stubborn in the face of his sparkling eyes and radiant smile.

When you were younger, there was a poster up on the wall of your homeroom at school. On it was an old man with an ugly sneer and a beige trench-coat, with the slogan ‘DON’T TALK TO STRANGERS’ superimposed in glaring red letters. You used to stare up at the poster and wonder how anyone could be so stupid as to talk to someone who looked like that.

You were never afraid to yell ‘STRANGER DANGER’ at the highest decibel your little lungs could manage whenever a person brushed too close to you in the mall. It was almost a habit — you were avidly fixated on your own personal safety, much to your mother’s chagrin and public embarrassment. Being banned from all the surrounding stores within a 20 mile radius had two consequences:

You had to drive forty minutes for a new pair of socks.

You stayed at home a lot more than you went out.

You became a homebody, and it was certainly not something you were unhappy about. Staying safe in your room meant there was less risk for someone to kidnap you. The comforting layer of your blanket was a shield from everything bad in the world. When your parents were arguing constantly, screaming at each other every other night, you would just tuck yourself in and read a bedtime story on your own since they were both occupied. When your parents eventually divorced, you buried yourself under your duvet rather than answer their questions about who you wanted to stay with, and what your preference was. When your mom died in a car crash, and your dad started drinking, your mattress was the shoulder you could cry on, your blanket was a warm arm holding you close. You had always felt safe in your bed. Perhaps that was why you were having such an averse reaction to being taken from it.

Hoseok was not a man with an ugly sneer and a trench coat. He had an impeccable sense of style, and his smile was breathtaking on the few occasions that it appeared. You more often saw his face twisted into a pained grimace. For a kidnapper, he was awfully sensitive. You were pretty sure it was reasonable for you to be holding grudge, and it’s not as if you were actively fighting against him or anything. You were just refusing to acknowledge him. You were highly skilled at repressing things, or ignoring them, and you were resolved to do the same now.

By 7 o’ clock, your resolve was slightly eroded. Hoseok always arrived back at half-past 5 on the dot. He was a very punctual person, and you felt an unwelcome sense of worry curl along the edges of your mind as the clock counted away the seconds of him not being there. You remembered feeling the same way when you waited for your mom to pick you up from your dads, watching the clock hand sweep past the numbers, increasingly taunting. Of course, you hadn’t realised that she was at the time caught in between a lorry with a drunk driver and a very steep incline. You wondered if you were being similarly clueless now.

When the door clicked open at quarter to 9, you had to restrain yourself from exhaling in relief. Hoseok came in looking slightly disheveled, his collar undone and his hair mussed as if he had ran his hands through it over and over again. He gave you a quick once over to see if you were alright, shot you a small, forced smile and then went straight to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

That was odd. He never closed the door to his bedroom. He had always left it open in case you needed anything, despite your refusal to acknowledge him. First, his late arrival and now yet another uncommon action? You felt curiosity bubble within you. That was it. Curiosity. It’s not that you were at all worried about him, you were just being nosy. Of course.

You tiptoed towards the door, tracing a finger around the door frame lightly. What if he didn’t even come out again for dinner? You doubted he had dined out without you, he had been eating his meals sitting across from you while you refused to touch yours since the day he stole you. You really should check on him, if only for the fact that if he dies then you’re trapped here with a high chance of starvation.

Before you could convince yourself not to, you opened the door and stepped inside. The only light-source came from the moonlight filtering through the window, casting Hoseok’s form lying on the bed in a deep blue. His eyes, which you assumed had been closed previously, shot open to observe you as he propped himself up on the backs of his forearms.

“Y/n.” He rasped, and a pleasant shiver ran down your spine. “D-do you need anything?” His tone was both excited and confused, probably because you had literally never directly interacted with him before.

You didn’t speak, and for the first time your silence was due to speechlessness, rather than a conscious desire.

“I-I, uh,” You stuttered, and Hoseok sat up ramrod straight, hearing your voice for the first time. “You… were late home.”

Hoseok felt like he couldn’t breathe. Your voice was so soft and pretty, fuck, and you were actually looking at him, you were actually talking to him, holy shit- and you called the apartment home. You said he was late ‘home’. Hoseok somehow managed to keep his shit together.

“I was?”

“Yes.” You confirmed with a small nod of your head. Fuck, you were so cute. “You normally come back at half five. It’s almost nine now.”

“I’m sorry. I was working late.” He was staying at the office because he felt guilty for not taking proper care of you and wanted to avoid seeing the proof of your unhappiness, but you didn’t need to know that.

“It’s ok.”

You remained standing at the foot of the bed, locked in his gaze. The bed looked so comfortable, moulding to support his body, and his warm body was exactly the comforting presence you were searching for all those years ago and you found yourself asking,

“Can I sleep in the bed with you?”

It was a quiet, timid suggestion but Hoseok reacted to it like a bombshell. His eyes practically popped out of their sockets and his entire body tensed. You were about to rescind your offer when he reached out a tugged a corner of the blanket down, welcoming you into the warmth.

You awkwardly sat on the edge of the mattress, nudging off your house slippers with your toes before slipping under the covers. The relief was instantaneous, shrouded in comforting and familiar warmth, and you couldn’t stop yourself from plastering yourself against his side, arm reaching out tentatively to rest on his chest. You felt his muscles jump under your touch, before his arm slid under you and tucked around your shoulders, drawing you into him closer. You closed your eyes, letting out a quiet little sigh, and you let yourself say the words you wish you could’ve said all those years ago when your mother never returned.

“I’m glad you’re home. I missed you.”

#yandere bts #soft yandere bts #bts hoseok #bts jhope #bts hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #yandere hoseok x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfic #jung hoseok

1K notes · View notes

angrylizardjacket · 5 years ago

Text

heard your name in every love song {Ben Hardy} 19 // EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE // 19. i love everybody because i love you

Summary: A series of vignettes that follow your life after X-Men Apocalypse.

A/N: 16.6k words. this has been a WILD fucking ride, and i love you all so much. i hope you like it. i hope i stuck the landing. thank you for coming on this journey with me, im so unbelievably proud of this fic. also lowkey woah the wish-fulfillment really jumped out in this epilogue. but also you ARE wonderful and talented and deserving of success!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME WITH YOUR THOUGHTS ID LOVE TO HEAR THEM and i respond privately to all non-anon messages if you dont want me to publish !! id still love to hear from you!! ( and im sorry if you dont care abt stranger things)

the mutant brotherhood: @daisy-lu @hervoidparadise @jamesbibuchananbarnes @ultrunning @d-r-e-a-m-catchme @clementimee @that-fandom-sucks-tho @cjand10 @rest-is-detail @baileymae @rosesvioletshardy @onceuponadetectivedemigod @hazelstyles94 @bitchylittleredhead @bihemian-rhapsody @sweatyexpertgardenpanda @whereeverythingisbetter @dedxbed @xxencagedxx @glittrixvibe @a-girl-with-stress @sunflower-ben @pxroxide-prinxcesss @mrsmazzello @cubedtriangle @haileymorelikestupid @misscharlottelee @nevilles-insinuations @jovialcreatorkidtoad @brianmaysclog @sambuckywarrior @hey-yo-bedussey @bubblyanis @lifesciencesbois @elektraofcrete @diosanaz @bbdoyouloveme @kirstansworld @okilover02 @cardboardbenmazzello @dreashappyworld @juliarose21 @simonedk @greycuby @emmasunshiine @dinotje @qtrogerina @spiketacus @nympha-door-a @local-troubled-writer @emphatic-af @wh0a-thisisheavy @lustgardn @banginashton @pamacs-macs @rogerinahardy1 @tired-ass-show-girl @kurt-nightcrawler

----

“So they’re not technically dating,” you explain to Tye before filming starts; he’s got his head in your lap, reading through a few pages of the script, and you’re gently carding your fingers through his hair, “they’re just hanging out while Alex is in town filming.” You explain, and he lowers the paper he’s reading from, giving you as look as if to prompt you for more information.

“And?”

“And nothing,” you shrugged, “just making conversation,” and he rolls his eyes, but his smile is fond, “Egghead,” you add, poking him in the cheek.

It’s the end of the first week of filming; they’re hoping to get most of the live-action shots done before suiting you all up for the in-game, motion captured scenes, and you’re both enjoying the morning. You’re on a roof garden, the crew milling about, repositioning various fans to create more wind, as Spielberg was reviewing some footage from the day before; the breeze isn’t particularly sweet, though that’s unsurprising given the local of the shoot, but the sun is warm, and the off-the-shoulder sweater they’ve put you in is comfortable. You’d already spent a good part of the morning warming up, so now you’re just waiting for filming to get underway.

“Alright, Tye, Y/N, can you both reset by the door, we’re about ready to start,” Spielberg calls over to you, and Tye sits up, getting to his feet and stashing his script out of sight for the moment.

We’re rolling. Action!

Tye identifies landmarks that will be added in post, IOI’s building, “The Stacks” where he’d lived, before his home was blown up –

“We’ve been living this close to each other the whole time?” His tone is softly disbelieving; with his lost-puppy expression and oversized jacket making him look all soft and warm, it’s easy to fall into character and give him nervous, half-pining looks. Your character, Artemis, still feels like it’s a risk to get close to him, but she can’t help herself; you hope that reads in the way you’re regarding him.

“Next door, around the world,” you shrug, moving past him, the wind blowing your hair out of your face; you’ve been put into a cute, auburn-toned wig to better fit the camera, an incredibly high-quality lace front, that now works exactly as intended, blowing carefree in the artificial wind, revealing the large birth mark the makeup team had given you, “it’s all the same in the Oasis.”

As if realizing what’s happened, you deliberately move your hair back to hide the birthmark, gaze dropping from his.

“For the record,” Tye stumbles over his words, all young and nervous and in love, “I’m… I’m not disappointed.” And you look to him, make eye contact as you let yourself feel your thinly veiled surprise; “you know you… you said I’d be disappointed when I met you, but I’m- I’m not.”

“I’ve lived with it my whole life, you don’t have to pretend,” you tug your sweater a little tighter around you, walking away from him, going to sit on the makeshift bench that had been set up amid this small slice of urban paradise; he follows you in earnest, looking far too gentle. He brushes the hair out of your face, revealing the birthmark, his hand warm, though you avoid his gaze.

“You have a birthmark,” he tucks the hair behind your ear, “so what?” And he gently lifts your chin, fingertips warm when they linger, “why would that scare me?” And in character, you hesitate in the face of such unfiltered kindness, and you reach up, taking his hand, marveling at the contact; it’s the first time your characters have touched one another in real life.

“Z, if I hurt you, I’m sorry,” you tell him as honest as you can manage, and it takes him a moment to try and wave it off before he’s grinning and laughing at the realization that you’d called his character by his in-game avatar’s nickname. His smile and laugh is a familiar comfort.

At first it’s weird to have romantic tension with him, to almost kiss him before your character’s realization occurs and you rush off. The moment after his gentle, soft laughter, in which you finally come to the realization about the ‘Second Clue’ in game, and you get to yell ‘Oh Shit’ instead of kissing him, it’s a cathartic release.

During the first take, the moment you shout, Tye bursts out laughing, unable to stop himself ruining the take. But it helps. Because it’s Tye shining through, and slowly the two of you work to find a middle-ground, between who your characters are, and how to bring your genuine friendship into the role.

There’s a take where you’re admiring him as he speaks, and you forget your own cue for a moment. He looks at you, as if to prompt you, eyebrows raised, but you double down on your mistake once you realize it. You plant a loud kiss on his cheek, wrapping your arms around him.

“We have a plot to get to,” he says with a quiet laugh, struggling to stay in character while you press a stupid grin to his cheek.

“But you’re cute,” you tell him teasingly.

“Fuck the plot,” he announces, as if convinced, throwing seriousness to the wind, wrapping his arms around you and licking a large stripe up your cheek in retaliation. He pulls you closer with such force that you both topple off the bench you’re sitting on as the director calls cut. You can almost guarantee that’ll make it to the blooper reel.

The banter sounds more natural between you both, and when Spielberg calls cut, he’s nodding as if it’s turning out the way he wanted it.

----

[what’s your eta?] Sitting in the plane before take off, about to turn your phone off when Ben messages you. How could a single text get your heart racing, and your grin to a billion watts.

[my flight leaves in fifteen so like an hour and a half?]

[fantastic!] [filming wraps for the day in about twenty so I’ll see you then] and then in a few seconds [wanna come to dinner with the cast?]

[as long as I won’t be a bother]

[never x]

A man in a black suit was waiting for you when you landed, holding a sign with your last name on it, and there was a giddy sort of rush that came with the whole experience, which you’d only ever seen on TV. He leads you to the waiting car, and your waiting boyfriend, sitting on the boot with his ankles crossed. His hair is all curly, like the early days of Apocalypse filming, but it’s shorter this time, styled, like he’d just walked off set, which becomes apparent when you go to run your fingers through it.

He’s ecstatic to see you, an emotion you mirror with ease, laughing with relief when you final get to hug him.

“Do I get to see you in period clothes this week?” You ask once you’re both in the back seat, your eyes shining bright with amusement and anticipation.

“I happen to think I look quite good in a all those fancy layers,” he sounds a little defensive, but you’re quick to placate, a hand gentle on his cheek.

“Oh, baby, I have no doubt about that,” you assure him, voice low and amused, “why else would I be looking forward to it?” And he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm, a small, intimate moment that you hope your remember for the rest of your life, before it breaks, and you pull out your phone, showing him your lock screen; a selfie he’d sent you the previous week of him in full costume, “do I get to see this in person?” You ask.

“Of course,” he grins, and then you kind of forgo talking for the rest of the ride back to his hotel, and spend the hour before dinner, ahem, catching up. At least you leave time for a shower before leaving.

The cast seems surprised when they meet you, like they weren’t expecting you to be all smiley and friendly when you meet them, eager to shake hands and make small talk. Not that they can’t separate actor from character, but you can’t deny that in the two major roles you’ve played, you’ve been typecast as the bitter revolutionary. To meet you, to find you so open, so chatty, it was a welcome surprise.

----

“I told you we weren’t dating,” Merissa is sulking on your sofa, curled up and breaking an entire bar of chocolate up into bite sized pieces in a bowl before she eats it.

“Then why are you acting like –“

“I told you we weren’t together, I just… I miss her is all,” she heaves a dramatic sigh, “I’ve watched all her movies –“

“Now you’re just being a masochist,” you tell her, but when you sit down beside her, you pat your lap and she lays her head down, pouting, “do you still talk to her?”

“Sometimes.”

“Was it meant to be just a fling?” You ask gently. Merissa groans.

“I don’t know! Can you just let me be dramatic tonight?” She pleads, and your heart softens.

“Of course,” you assured her, running your fingers through her hair with one hand, picking up your remote with the other, “what do you wanna watch?”

“X-Men Apocalypse?”

----

“Don’t bite me,” Tye’s glaring at you, his hand on your thigh to keep you steady where you’re in his lap for the entirety of this shot, which happens to be the final shot of the film, but not of the shooting schedule. It’s been almost half an hour.

“I might bite you,” you mused, not sounding even a little bit sorry, “I’m bored what am I meant to do?” You asked.

“Not fucking bite me!” Tye answered, exasperated.

“Can I bite you a little bit?”

“Why?”

You shrug.

“What if I bite you?” He counters like it’s a threat, which baffles you.

“Sure,” your answer doesn’t seem to please him, “you know I mean, like, in general. On the nose. Not during the kiss, this is a family movie.” And you see the relief on his face as he finally understands.

“Oh, yeah, sure, fine, I don’t care about that, just don’t be a dick.”

“Just a little bite,” you assured, petting him on the head. He rolled his eyes at you, but leaned back in the chair, offering his cheek like a vampire’s victim offers their neck. You give him a gentle bite on the cheek.

“Did that cure your boredom?”

“Kind of,” you shrug after a moment. The scene is reset, and the swivel chair the two of you are currently occupying turns away from the camera. You wiggle to get a better seat in his lap, and he secures his grip on you.

“Don’t bite me,” he whispers in warning, and you raise your eyebrows.

“Biting is strictly for when I’m bored, I promise,” you assured, and the director calls action right as he laughs, so, at least for this take, the kiss that begins the scene and extends arguably too far into it, was to shut him up.

----

“What do you mean you’re in the new season of Stranger Things?” It’s the first and only time you think you’ve ever heard Andrew raise his voice. His eyes are wide, shocked and overwhelmed in the lagging little FaceTime video.

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean’?” You squawk in confusion, frowning at your phone. You can hear Ben laugh from the kitchen.

“He’s got a crush on the skinny white boy who looks like he eats cigarettes,” Jamie’s all smug and amused, perching his chin on Andrew’s shoulder, loudly chewing Ritz crackers. Andrew looks frankly betrayed.

“As if; you know I’m only invested in that show for Wynona Rider,” he says seriously, and Jamie grins from ear to ear.

“Right, I’m the one with the crush on the white boy who looks like he eats cigarettes.” And he plants a kiss on Andrew’s cheek for emphasis.

“You have a type,” you tell him flatly, and Jamie steps back to cackle, and Andrew gives you a deadpan glare. After a moment, however, you’re scrambling to amend, “it’s not public knowledge yet, I’m still doing mocap and voice work for Ready Player One, I just wanted to tell you guys ‘cos I was excited.” You admit.

“I do appreciate that your typecast is apparently the eighties,” Andrew’s anger defrosts to thinly-veiled amusement, “I feel like I should put on Heathers just to cast you as the lead and keep in theme.”

“Andy, I’d be there in a heartbeat,” you assured him, and his smile, while fond, is a little sad.

“I feel like you don’t have the time anymore, dear.”

----

Kissing Tye on set isn’t weird, which you’re incredibly grateful for. There’s so much more strange shit in this movie, an eighties dance sequence that you have to perform in a motion capture suit, essentially feeling him up, also in the motion capture suit, and having the single most inuendo-laden conversation you’ve ever had in your life, whilst wearing – you guessed it – that horrific mocap suit.

After you’ve heard your friend mutter about having ‘the X-1 Haptic Boot-Suit with microfiber crotch inlay’ the rest stops being weird; there were several takes, both in person, and in the voice recording booth, that you couldn’t get through without laughing.

Your favorite blooper has to be when you’ve got your hands on his chest doing mocap, asking if he can feel the contact, and then, because you can’t help yourself, you bite his shoulder, and not in a flirty way, in an over-the-top, comical way, and he bursts out laughing in surprise.

“I’m gonna kill you, dude,” he chokes out, firmly out of character, between laughs, and around you the crew is trying to smother their own laughter.

Slowly but surely, however, you’re becoming nicer to each other on set, not that anyone should mistake those for romantic feelings, but it’s a tough film to shoot, and your friendship’s currently undergoing trial by fire. Just like with Ben, with whom you’d spent all your time with during Apocalypse, you and Tye have developed a similar unspoken code, the most frequent of which, surprisingly, is an apology.

You got the giggles one day on set during what was meant to be a very serious scene, and it took almost a full fifteen minutes and half a bottle of water for you to calm down. You’re meant to be helping him escape from the bad guys, and letting them take you instead, and so when you finally are in the right headspace, the last of the laughter leaving you, you want to apologise to him after you’ve apologized to the director.

Tye takes in your gentle, apologetic smile, even as the director calls for the scene to reset, and you realise you don’t have the time. You quickly rest a hand on his shoulder, murmuring a quiet but sincere apology, and he pets your cheek fondly with a nod. It’s okay.

It’s easy enough for people to miss, if one of you is late to a shoot or to coffee beforehand, if one screws up a line which ends up somehow embarrassing the other, that unspoken apology, and the easy it’s okay that goes along with it, goes a long way to reassuring the other.

----

“I’ve been thinking of getting an apartment in LA,” you bring up tentatively over dinner. Ben, who’s got a mouthful of pasta, looks at you with surprise, but mostly because you’ve caught him at an inopportune time. He’s nodding, trying to finish his mouthful quickly.

“There’s a shitload of opportunities out there, it would be smart,” he agrees, and you nod thoughtfully, though he’s the one to bring up, “seems a shame to be paying rent on two places though, ‘specially if you’re already barely using one,” which was true, you were staying with him more than in your own London flat.

“I was thinking that too,” you gave a small smile, hoping you were both on the same wavelength, “and if you ever had a project out in LA, or had a bunch of auditions or were job hunting, it would probably make more sense… you know… if I- if we- you know if I had a place out there that you could stay at.”

“You could move anything you didn’t want to take into my place here,” he offered, and the tension that had been knotted in your stomach eased considerably, though you feel the need to clarify –

“I still have a lot of stuff here, though, like I wouldn’t be moving for a while, not until maybe next year? After all that Stranger Things stuff.”

Across the table, Ben tilts his head ever so slightly, confused at your sudden concern, his expression turning soft and reassuring.

“I’m happy to live with you, there’s no rush, don’t worry.”

----

[ID: Tweet from @Deadline: ‘Stranger Things’ Adds 3 New Regulars, Promotes 2 For Season 2 dlvr.it/RXrdLR (There are three headshots attached, one of child actress Sadie Sink, one of Dacre Montgomery, and one of Y/N Y/L/N). End ID.]

[ID: @burdenedwithporpoise retweeted @Deadline’s post with the following caption: when u realise children shouldn’t be fighting monsters so u have to bring in two teenage superheroes @dacremontgomery @yourtwittername (Two images are attached; a still of Dacre Montgomery in the upcoming Power Rangers dressed as the Red Ranger, and a still from X-Men Apocalypse of the character Control as played by Y/N Y/L/N, using her scream-attack power). End ID.]

“Ben, I was meant to be at least twenty in Apocalypse,” you sighed deeply, flopping over in bed to lay your head on his chest and sulk for a moment. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head after reading the tweets.

“I know, babe.”

----

“They’re asking if I can play drums.”

“Ben –“

“If I say yes, I can always learn after, right?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess.”

----

“Y/N, would you consider being one of my Groomsmen?” Andrew asks you over brunch at his and Jamie’s little flat. You’ve been giving your opinion of floral arrangements, “it’s pretty low effort, my brother’s going to be my Best Man, he’s organizing everything, I just –“

“Andy, that’s not even a question, of course I will be!”

It’s an Autumn wedding, the whole world golden when Jamie and Andrew both say ‘I do’, and you have to pretend like you’re not crying the entire time. Both grooms are wearing impeccably tailored, bright and embroidered suits, Andrew in sunny, pastel yellow, and Jamie in peach; the meaning, the longstanding nickname, is not lost on you. During the ceremony, you catch Merissa’s eye, see her teary in place as Jamie’s Best Woman, and you both share a bright smile. Andrew’s never been very good at expressing his emotions, so to see him crying during Jamie’s vows, it set off another round of waterworks.

Ben’s in the crowd, four rows back, and just a moment, he looks to you, as if feeling your gaze, and you share a look of love, of pride, of promise. Something catches in your chest. That could be us. You’d never considered that before.

Everyone in the wedding party is wearing a suit, at the grooms’ behest, and once the ceremony is over, and the reception begins, Ben, who was of course your date for the function, looks at you like you’re not quite real.

“How is this the first time I’ve seen you in a suit,” he breathes, hands running down your arms as he marvels at how incredible you look in all black, with baby pink accents. You’ve just finished drying your eyes, so his praise has your lip trembling with overwhelmed gratitude.

“Fancy seeing you here!” A new voice joins you both, snapping you out of your feelings, and surprising both of you. When you turn, Alexandra is beaming at you both, wearing a dress in shimmering purple.

“Alex?” You asked, happy but confused. You hadn’t seen her in the crowd. Ben forgoes a greeting and wraps her up in a hug. You follow suit, just a moment after, grateful to see her despite your confusion. When you step back, Alexandra hesitates for a moment, looking between you both.

“Merissa invited me,” she says with a smile, looking so damn pleased and joyful. Oh! “Beautiful ceremony, wasn’t it?”

“Stunning,” you agreed, though your gaze is torn away as you see Merissa looking through the crowd, concerned, “I think she’s looking for you.” And Alexandra turns, expression lighting up at the mere mention of Merissa. As she floats through the crowd, away from you and Ben, your boyfriend wraps his arm around you.

“So are they back together?”

“No clue.”

Merissa kisses Alexandra in greeting, wrapping her up in a hug like long lost lovers finally reunited; that is answer enough.

----

[ID: A photo posted to Instagram by Alexandra Shipp of herself, Y/N Y/L/N, and Ben Hardy. She is wearing a floor length, strappy, purple dress with a slit up to her thigh, Y/N is wearing a black suit and black undershirt with a baby pink bowtie and pocket square, and Ben is wearing a dark grey suit with white undershirt, the top few buttons undone. The three of them are posing together, arms around each other, looking at the camera with serious expressions.

The caption reads: who invited famine, pestilence, and death to the wedding? End ID]

Predictably, the comments are full of questions about whose wedding it was, asking where Magneto was, and generally thirsting over the three of you looking like actual models. You won’t lie and say it’s not kind of an ego boost. Both you and Ben repost it to your public Instagram pages. You follow it up with a second heartfelt post about the wedding itself, congratulating two of your closest friends.

----

You’re reminded starkly of Jamie calling him ‘the white boy who looks like he eats cigarettes’ when you find out you’ll be playing opposite Charlie Heaton, playing Vanity Ambrose, a punk photography enthusiast, and resident rebellious delinquent, who begins the season as a friend of Johnathan Byers, who ropes your character into the mystery of the story, but as he leaves you behind in favor of adventuring with Nancy, you end up teaming up with Steve Harrington trying to protect Will Byers while Jonathan’s out of town.

Reading this description, you wonder what about you has you typecast in these badass roles when, in reality, you’re a soft theater student who’s winging it, because they’ve written you as someone that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, the popular guy, is actually intimidated by your character.

It changes over the course of the Season, unsurprisingly. Once Jonathan leaves you with more questions than answers, you go looking for him, and then his not-girlfriend, and instead find Dustin, the kid with a monster for a pet, and at least a few answers for you. When Steve Harrington shows up looking for Nancy too, Dustin collects him too, and your character refuses to leave without knowing what the hell is going on.

As the mystery unravels, Steve learns that you’re more than just the intimidating stereotype you present as, and you see him for more than just a popular jerk, and the two of you bicker over the advice he gives Dustin about girls. You two help the kids set up their fortress again Dustin’s monster pet, and you’re part of the ensemble for the rest of the story, helping protect the kids as best you can, and you’ve always got Steve’s back.

[ID: Two images posted to your Instagram story.

The first is captioned ‘my characters’ and is a still from John Mulaney’s comedy special The Comeback Kid where he’s saying “Do not fuck with me.”.

The second is captioned ‘me’, and is a second still from the same comedy special where he’s saying “You could probably pour soup in my lap and I’d apologise to you!”. End ID.]

----

“Hey, I’m so sorry, I just have to take this call real quick, it’s very important.”

“All good, Y/N, we’ll break for fifteen and meet back here, okay?” The director of the episode gives you a thumbs up, and you quickly move away from the rest of the cast and crew to answer.

“Babe! Babe holy shit! Babe!” Ben’s elated voice greets you at three in the afternoon in early January. You’re currently in America, two thirds of the way through filming for the show, currently on set, decked out in leather.

“Hey baby, you sound happy, what’s –“

“Babe!” He adds for emphasis, tone ecstatic, “I got it! I – fuck! I got it!” And he lowered his voice, worried of anyone in your vicinity, even with the phone to your ear, “Bohemian Rhapsody!” He hisses with the biggest grin you’d ever seen. For a moment, your eyes go wide, and you fight to control your reaction, absconding further into the woods you’d been filming in, before it all bursts forth.

“Ben, oh my God!” You’re all but jumping with joy yourself, “oh baby, oh Benny, that’s incredible! I knew you would, you’re going to absolutely kill it! Oh my man’s a star!” You practically sang, as Ben’s excitable and incomprehensible yells filled your ear.

“Queen, babe! Fucking Queen!” He made an uncharacteristic noise of excitement, before adding with something of a self-deprecating laugh, “now I just need to learn how to play drums.”

----

“What if I moved to LA?” Merissa asked over FaceTime, fidgeting.

“For real?” It kind of came out of nowhere for you, sitting in your hotel room on a rare day off, taking advantage of all your free time, catching up with your friends.

“Yeah, I mean I’m about to graduate, and there’s plenty of opportunities for journalists, and…” she hesitated, chewing her lip.

“And?” You prompted.

“And I’ve been saving for a while, actually, like since I was sixteen, and my parents have agreed to help me out –“

“So you’ve already made up your mind then?” You say with a half-smile, but she doesn’t seem to be registering anything you’re saying.

“And it means I’d be closer to Alex.”

“Don’t move to LA just for a girl,” you told her, “but if it’s what you really want, go for it.”

----

“If I bought you a waistcoat would you just wear it around the house for me?” You sighed wistfully, head propped up on your hand where you’re lounging in his chair on the set of The Woman in White, gazing longingly at Ben in his full period costume. Ben, where he’d been pacing and running lines before the shoot actually started, stopped, a blush creeping up his cheeks when he finally looked at you, taking in your dreamy expression. He approaches you, still wearing that pleased little, half-flustered smile, and he takes your face in his hands, leaning in to kiss you gently.

“Only ‘cos I like you,” he teased, leaning back, and you giggled, taking one of his hands and pulling him back in for another kiss.

Later, one of the production assistants will be by your side, the both of you watching as the director calls action and Ben wraps his costar up in one of the hottest kisses you’ve ever witnessed. The PA asks if it’s weird to watch. You shake your head; it’s a job, honestly you’re a little proud of how just watching him kiss someone else like that makes you think unholy thoughts. Mostly, however, you’re just proud.

----

“Mum, I am begging you, please do not mention EastEnders,” you plead with your mother as there comes a knock on the door of your family home.

“I won’t call him Mister Beale,” is what your mother agrees to, wiping her hands on a tea towel and heading to the door as you finished setting the table. The door opens, letting in a gust of cold air, and your mother ushers your boyfriend inside, “Ben it’s so lovely to see you again, it’s been far too long.”

“Not since we saw Streetcar,” he agreed, smiling easily, and hugging your mother when she offered one. Making his way through to the dining room, he kisses you in greeting, while your mother babbles about how it’s a shame that both you and Ben are so busy that it’s been hard to have dinner together.

“I hear you’re starting filming for that Queen film in a few weeks,” your mother muses while you were all eating, and Ben lights up when he talks about it, excited about learning how to play drums, getting to talk to the band members, watching old documentaries, and all the exciting costumes he’s been trying out. Your mother nodded along, admiring the way you were regarding him with such pride as he spoke.

“I’ve always liked them, truly tragic what happened to Freddie, truly tragic,” she shook her head, and both you and Ben nodded in somber agreement, before she perked up, “but ooh, that little bassist, I swear back when he had his long hair- that wife of his was lucky to snap him up so quick,” you and Ben share an awkwardly amused look, and your mother continues, “Roger’s always been very pretty, all my little school friends always thought he was the cutest; I’m sure you’ll do wonderful, Ben, you’re a very talented young man, I’ve always thought so.”

You’re very suddenly reminded of her, in this very room, calling him an idiot after you’d broken up that first time, but decide to keep that to yourself.

Ben’s humble as he tries to brush off the praise, but your mother feels the need to mention that she ‘owns all of EastEnders on DVD, so I’d know if you’re talented; that was a long time ago’ and Ben turns red and you regret everything that lead you here.

“Mum, you’re killing me.”

“What? It’s just a fact! I’m a fan of the show, I’m not a super fanatic or anything,” she shrugs, and you take a deep breath before remembering something you’d been meaning to bring up.

“Speaking of BoRhap, I got a call from the director,” which was news to Ben, as well as your mother, “he’s the same one from Apocalypse,” you said for your mother’s benefit, and she nodded in understanding, and you turned to Ben, resting your chin on your shoulder with a grin, “he offered me a little cameo.”

“That’s fantastic, babe, what’ll you be playing?”

“He wants me to play your wife, actually,” you grin, and Ben’s whole expression softens, “suppose he thinks I’ll do quite well at it.”

----

Filming for the new X-Men movie, simply titled Riot Control starts filming a few months after Stranger Things finishes, and you’ve never been so happy to take a painfully long flight before. It hurts to do without Ben, to have him not be part of the story, but he’s there in spirit, cheering you on the entire time.

To play Control is like riding a bicycle, like coming home after a long trip, like a warm hug on a cold night. Okay, perhaps that’s a little dramatic, but to be back with most of the cast, apart from Ben and Oscar, it felt more like hanging out with friends than any other shoot you’ve been on thus far.

They’ve hired a movement coach for you this time around, specifically to develop a new way of moving and fighting when playing the Symbiote. There’s also more fighting in this one, more time spent in the gym and with a personal trainer and fight choreographer; it’s intense, and most days leave you feeling sore and exhausted, but it’s worth it, you tell yourself every night that it’s worth it.

The best part, by far, is seeing everyone again. Some you haven’t seen for almost a year, not since the Apocalypse premiere, but there’s a few faces you’re more than used to by now.

“That looks familiar,” Tye’s grin is clear in his tone as he looks you over in an unflattering mocap suit, filming as the Symbiote for the day.

“Shut it, Egghead,” you warn him, though when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, you’re grinning, and he laughs, throwing an arm around you.

“No, come on, I’ve missed this,” he gives you a squeeze.

“You’re just excited not to be in the suit as well,” you counter, and bite his shoulder in a familiar display of affection. He does not, however, disagree.

Much to your surprise, Merissa shows up to set before Ben gets a chance to; that’s unsurprising, he’s still filming back in Ireland, but Merissa doesn’t even mention that she’s thinking of showing up before she’s on set.

“Holy. Shit.” You’re in your full Control costume and makeup, complete with prosthetics, contacts, and fake tattoos. She’s got that look in her eyes again, like back at the premiere, when she didn’t know anybody and didn’t quite know what to do or what to say, “holy shit, dude.” It’s like it’s hitting her just now, how much you’ve changed in the years that have passed.

“Merissa,” and you smile, greeting her warmly, wrapping her up in a hug and holding onto her for a very long moment, “it’s so good to see you! Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”

“Thought I’d surprise you,” her voice was soft, and a little awed, “Alex flew me out.” She paused, stepping back and holding you at arm’s length, taking in your whole costume, “dude, you look kind of terrifying,” she grinned, “does this mean I’ll actually get to see you at work?”

“Yeah, dude, you’re here aren’t you?”

----

The Comic Con green room makes your skin itch when déjà vu strikes, waiting for the Ready Player One panel, but Tye is next to you, talking at length about his latest production, to take your mind off of things. They call you both over, and as you stand, you rest your hand on Tye’s shoulder, not an apology this time, a thank you. He gives a reassuring smile, resting his hand on your cheek briefly, nodding, checking in, making sure you’re alright.

It’s easier this time around, you find; they give you your own microphone, which you fidget with when you’re walking on after the trailer plays.

And the trailer- Holy Shit! It looks stunning, so much more incredible than you’d ever imagined. Suddenly, you’re excited rather than nervous, despite the lack of footage of your own character, though they’re still in post, so you wouldn’t be surprised if it takes another trailer or two before she’s shown fully-rendered.

“Y/N, how you doing, you okay?” Tye asks into his mic as you’re all finding your seats after hugging Spielberg and Ernest Cline, the writer, in greeting, and when you look at him, that little traitor is grinning, he must have noticed you fidgeting.

“I’m doing good, don’t have my boy- my-“ you stumble over your words, much to both Tye, and the rest of the audience’s delight, “Ben to hold my hand this time around though,” and TJ Miller, one of the other actors barks a laugh from beside you.

“You can have a Ben hold your hand,” he gestures to Ben Mendleson on his other side, and while you and Mendleson share an amused look, you politely decline with a chuckle.

“I think I’ll live,” you rebound easily after a moment, sitting back and giving an easy laugh. Most of the questions are directed at Steven Spielberg, and the two cowriters of the film, naturally, and the only question you field in the time you’re all allotted is how it felt to kind of play two separate characters, which is easy enough to answer. Until, the inevitable;

“So Tye, you and Y/N – this is the second time the two of you are working together, do you think that made it easier or harder to build that- that relationship between your characters?” The host asks, and when you and Tye share a look, you can already see the cogs turning in his mind, the mischievous glint in his eyes, and you race to raise your microphone.

“Be nice, Egghead,” you warned, and he goes to protest, something along the lines of ‘I’m always nice’, but before he even gets a chance, you turn to the audience, “he sent me a text the other night, at like two in the morning, completely unprompted –“ and Tye’s laughing because he knows exactly what you’re referring to, “that just said ‘You remind me of a pelican’ full stop – full stop,” you add for emphasis, “’that’s not a compliment’,” you huff, but you’re grinning, and shrugging, “so that’s what our working relationship is like.”

“That’s only because you called me ‘Significantly Worse James Marsden’ that day,” he protests, “so my thing, it wasn’t- it wasn’t unprompted.” He clarified, and you had to lower your microphone to laugh, along with the crowd.

“But no, seriously, Gun - Y/N and I didn’t actually interact all that much in our last film, like we did, but not a lot, so it was kind of like, we were building that relationship from scratch, but we’re both- you know we were both already comfortable around each other,” Tye explains, and you nod along in agreement, until he adds, “I just have to keep her distracted with something shiny, ‘cos she bites when she’s bored.”

“You hypocrite!” You exclaim, and Tye’s whole expression shifts to amused and mischievous, “you bite me just as much as I bite you. This is mutual-friendship biting.” And the audience laughs and whistles while Tye just sits back, amused by the chaos he’s created.

“That’s actually not a joke,” TJ Miller adds from your other side, grinning wide enough to split his face, that traitor, “between takes I’ll look over, and they’ll both be on their phones – millennials –“ he adds, jokingly, “and one of them will just lean over and bite the other, just right on the arm.”

“Biting on set?” The host asks Spielberg, bewildered, and the director laughs gently.

“As long as they do what they’re told when cameras are rolling, I don’t care; the energy and dynamic they have is fantastic for their characters, so as long as they’re menacing each other and not the rest of the cast, everyone kind of lets them be.”

The crowd are all smiling at you, watching, attentive, reassuring. They want you here.

And you’ll see them all again in just a few hours for the Stranger Things panel.

You don’t even have the safety net of Tye for your second panel of the day, but by now you think you’ve got everything under control. You’re in a new outfit at your stylist’s behest, changing the look from something sweet to something more rock and roll to reflect your character.

“Y/N, who plays Vanity,” Joe Keery announces, and you shoot him a smile as you walk on, finding your seat next to Dacre.

“Now, Y/N, you’ve already been up here today once before,” the host of the panel cuts in, and you give a laugh, leaning in to your shared microphone.

“Shh, Patton, they made me get changed so people wouldn’t notice,” you laughed, and the host snorted a laugh, quickly playing along.

“Sorry, sorry, welcome to the stage for the first time today, Y/N,” and you laugh lightly as they introduce the rest of the panel. They show the trailer for the next season and you’re kind of blown away; it’s always a little strange to see yourself on the big screen, especially playing characters so against your actual personality, but you don’t look out of place, you look… cool.

And then they’re going down the line, asking the new actors about how their characters fit into this role.

“And Y/N this- this is very familiar, the leather, the eighties; are you planning to end the world here too?” The host jokes, and you grin broadly as the audience laughs.

“What makes you think I’m the bad guy? We’ve already got – Dacre here literally said he’s a human antagonist, dude,” you shake your head, and the host babbles something about the way you’re dressed, the colour scheme you’ve been put in, and you nod in understanding, “well that’s part of my character, you know, a lot of people find it difficult to look past her whole, her whole punk thing, you know? That was really interesting for me, because – I don’t know how much I can say – but I spend a lot of time hanging out with Steve, Steve Harrington, who’s like this popular kind of jerk, at least that’s how Vanity sees him, and so it’s really nice to be able to play this kid who’s like, wearing this intimidating, punk mask, hanging out with the popular guy – for whatever reason –“ you wiggled your eyebrows, teasing the audience, “and to just have these kids discover that there’s actual people beneath these stereotypes.”

----

“Can I ask you something?” Alexandra’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet; the two of you are getting lunch in a break between scenes, and you’ve squirrelled yourselves away in the back of a restaurant you’d enjoyed back when you’d been filming Apocalypse.

“Of course, anything.”

“Do you think you’d still be Famine?” And she asks it so seriously, that it’s a little surprising, and you have to wrack your brains to figure out what she means. It’s clear her question confuses you, however, because she’s quickly clarifying, “back when we, you know, when we first met; you, me, Ben, Michael, Oscar, we went around and we said which Horseman we’d be as ourselves, not as our characters.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you nod slowly. Alexandra drops her gaze from you back to her food.

“Do you still think you’d be Famine?”

You take a very long moment to think it over, to analyses what she’s saying, what she’s implying, and coming to terms with the fact that such a small detail, all those years ago, had stuck with her. Maybe she could tell, maybe she’d understood what you’d meant when you called yourself Famine, quietly wanting for everything, so desperate for connection, for recognition, for appreciation.

So much has changed in the past two years alone.

“No, not anymore.”

----

Before filming had started, you’d heard that the story was going to be split over two films; in the first, you play the villain. You find the Symbiote while looking for a way to bring back Angel, but over time, the Symbiote corrupts you, makes you turn to vengeance rather than your loved one’s revival, and for a time, you listen. Broken by Apocalypse and Angels’ deaths, and your perceived betrayal of Magneto, who is revealed to be Control’s idol, during a flashback in which she watches his 1973 national address, she goes after the X-Men specifically, at the Symbiote’s urging. But Magneto’s not with them, and his betrayal is the one that hurts the most, so he’s the one she’s going to kill first.

Not that it works out like that.

But the point is, Control survives the first movie; going up against the X-Men, going up against The Phoenix, Jean refuses to believe that Control can’t be saved, that she doesn’t deserve to be saved, and burns the Symbiote out of her, as Control finally comes to terms with everything that’s happened, everything she’s done and who she’s become, and agrees to go with the X-Men.

In the second, you’re somewhat reformed, and would go back to being a secondary character, living alongside Magneto in his mutant paradise island as the events of Dark Phoenix would play out. At least that’s what you’re told at the time.

There’s never been a more difficult scene for you to film than the final confrontation with Jean; hours, voice raw as you’re meant to be screaming as the Symbiote is burned out of you, nose to nose with Sophie, crying and shaking and covered in cuts and blood. Sophie’s crying too, as Jean, refusing to give up on you, her hands holding your face.

You’ve been at it all day, overwhelmed and exhausted, you’re the only two cast members on set, feeding off each other’s anguish, muttering to each other that it’s going to be okay, that you’re going to get through it. Someone hands you a bottle of water, another lozenge, and your hands shake as you drink, as you try and help your sore throat before the next take.

“We good to go again?” The director asks, and you hand back the water bottle, giving him a shaky thumbs up. Sophie smiles at you, sniffling a little and trying to shake out her nerves before beginning again, “just a few more takes!” The director calls, apologetic.

And again, again, again; scream, lines, tears, a lightshow in your face to indicate Jean’s powers, her grip against your cheeks tightening, until it all becomes too much.

You scream, but you can’t keep it up, and it’s like it’s choking you, your voice lost, overcome by tears, and you collapse against Sophie in the middle of the take, shaking and crying and exhausted.

“No-one, no-one,” she tells you sincerely in character, falling with you until she’s sitting on the ground, cradling you against her, “is beyond help. There is always hope,” and it comes out as a whisper, “there is always hope.”

The director is calling cut, but you sit like that for a long time, in Sophie’s arms, so tired and overworked, and the director apologises for pushing you both so hard, thanking you both for the effort you’d put in, telling you it was a wrap on the scene.

----

“I know we don’t have you for long, so thank you for coming in and doing this,” the director of Bohemian Rhapsody told you, leading you through to the band’s rehearsal room set, “but you’ll be back in November, right? There’s a few scenes we need you for; the schedule’s all been cleared with your manger, I just wanted to run it past you.”

Your schedule had gotten hectic; it had been less than a week since you’d wrapped on Riot Control, and in a week and a half you were flying back out to LA for the Stranger Things 2 premiere, but had made the trip to London to film your first BoRhap scene at the director’s behest.

“Yeah, all good, I’ve been looking forward to this,” you grinned brightly, smoothing out your brightly colored blouse.

“This is Rami Malek, Gwilym Lee, Joe Mazello, and Ben, whom I think you already know,” the director gives a knowing little smile as he introduced you to the rest of the cast, all already in full costume.

“I mean, we drove here together,” you agreed, and Ben snorted a laugh from where he was sitting behind the drums. You greeted each of the other actors warmly, smiling, shaking hands – Rami kissed you on the hand, apparently already in full Freddie-Mode – before you got to Ben.

“I like your wig –“

“Don’t be making fun of it,” he warned, straight up, and your hands raised in surrender.

“I wasn’t, I never would,” you tell him, and he gives you a pleased little smile as you admire him. His drumming has really gotten quite good, and as you sit on the sofas on set with the other wives while the other cast members float around, mostly in character, waiting for the cameras to finish setting up, you can’t help but admire him.

“You know Ben?” Joe asks, his interest piqued when he notices you tapping your thigh in time to the drum beats. You pause for a moment, and give a slight nod.

“We both worked with the director on X-Men Apocalypse,” you began, and Joe’s expression lit up.

“I knew I knew you from somewhere; you were- you were Control, right? The clone one? You don’t…” and he tries to put it into words, looking at your outfit and kind smile, and hums for a moment.

“Look like I’m about to get into a knife fight in an alley?” You fill in, and though Joe laughs, he’s nodding and agreeing, “I don’t know what it is about me that gets me cast as these mean, badass characters, you know? I’m just- I’m just me, you know, I’m not a fight-y person.” As your amusement dies down, however, you look back over to Ben, and when he catches you looking at him, he raises his eyebrows in silent question, “and we’ve been together for about two years.” You add as an aside to Joe.

“Oh!”

----

You’re hounded for interviews walking the red carpet at the Stranger Things 2 premiere; it’s surreal that this is the first of your projects to actually premiere. It’s surreal, so many people are calling your name, it feels like there’s a million flashbulbs going off in your face, but as things get overwhelming, you remember the message Ben had sent that morning.

[you’re going to kill it, love, im so proud of you x] [remember to reach out if it gets too much]

Remember to reach out if it gets too much. He knows you well.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay?” Wynona Ryder steps up to you before you even have a chance to look for someone to help; she’s been in the industry for a long time, she must recognize the signs. Swallowing hard, you smile for the cameras all around as you tell her what’s wrong.

“Red carpets tend to overwhelm me, and I just need to ground myself for a moment,” you take a deep breath, and she fixes you with an understanding and caring smile, offering her arm. Gratitude flows through you as you tuck your arm in hers as she leads you down the rest of the red carpet. It’s easy with her beside you, keeping you both moving forward to various interviews and photo opportunities.

“Thank you,” you whisper, approaching the main photo backdrop.

“Don’t even worry about it,” she pets your hand, “you ever need a moment, you come find me, okay?”

Once you’re finally at the end, you let her go and pose with your most winning smile for the sea of photographers, joining a smattering of the rest of the cast. Joe Keery and Gaten Matarazzo both wrap you up in a hug when they see you, the three of you posing for endless photos together to hint at your characters’ friendship, before Gaten heads to the rest of the children, and you and Joe pose together for a few photos, before the whole cast comes together.

----

One of the final shots of the season, Steve drops off Dustin at the Snowball dance, and catches sight of Nancy, his ex, inside and serving punch. There’s a sigh, a mourning for a first love he knows he won’t be getting back, but then, panning over to a darkened corner of the parking lot- Vanity, laying on the back window of her car, smoking, looking up at the sky. Steve gets out of the car.

“How can you stand those things?” Steve asks, and Vanity lets out a laugh, smoke spilling from her lips in the faint light.

“Mother Harrington,” she greets, sitting up, “Dustin make it in okay?”

“’Course he did,” Steve snorts, hopping up beside her on the trunk, the pair of them shoulder to shoulder, “kid looks a million bucks, gave him a pep talk; he made this weird growl but I talked him out of it.” He says, smug and proud in equal measure. Vanity puts her cigarette out on the bumper of the car, grinning at him, “what’re you doing out here, I thought you’d be in there working the camera or something?”

“Jonathan’s got that covered; I’m Max’s ride,” she explained, “I’ve never gone to the Snowball dance before, I’m not gonna start this year.”

“Not even once?”

“Never had anyone to go with,” she admits, a little sheepish. At that, the music starts to change, to something slow and romantic, well as romantic as a middle school dance can get, and Steve jumps from the car, and turns sharply, offering his hand.

“May I have this –“

“No.”

“Van,” he sighs deeply, hand dropping for a moment, “I’m trying to do a thing here,” and he lifts his hand again in invitation, “now I know the parking lot of the Snowball dance isn’t the same as a well lit gym, but –“

“No.” But she’s laughing, sliding from the vehicle, and gently lowering his arm, “Steve Harrington, I do not want to dance with you in the parking lot of the Snowball dance,” she told him, but she’s still gently holding his wrist, “I would however, say yes to a burger,” she paused, stepping back and shrugging, “or a movie; would you want to see a movie with me?”

“A movie?” Steve asks, surprisingly flustered, “with you?” Vanity shoves her hands in her pockets, suddenly quiet, giving a hopeful little nod.

“We can probably still catch Terminator.”

Oh, the realization occurs to him very suddenly, clear as day on his face, she’s asking him out. His expression melts into pleasant surprise.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

----

“Do you know how hard it is being a high school English teacher, coming back from Autumn break when all your students are talking about how they’d just binged the new Stranger Things, and you have to act like one of your best friends isn’t one of the new regulars?” Jamie bemoans you over coffee when you get back from LA; you just raise your eyebrows at him.

“Why wouldn’t you tell them?”

“Because it feels like I’m bragging, and as their teacher, that feels… I don’t know, it feels wrong,” he sighs, and takes a long sip, “it would be different if I was like, telling them that you were coming to speak with them about something, but it just seems like I’d be showing you off if it didn’t fit with the curriculum.”

“Any of your classes currently studying Shakespeare?” You asked pointedly, and Jamie’s entire face lit up like a Christmas tree, as if remembering the years of stage experience you also have.

“My sixth form kids are currently doing Richard the Third!”

“Get the paperwork together, I’m happy to come have a chat with your classes.”

----

With Ben’s arm around you on set, you feel like everything’s right with the world.

“Have I told you have absolutely gorgeous you look right now?” He murmured in your ear, voice low enough that no-one else could hear, all full of heady promise. You sighed soft and pleased, tilting your head until your lips were mere inches from his.

“Tell me again,” you smiled, licking your lips as your gaze caught his, pupils blown wide and dark.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he mutters again, pulling you just a little closer, and you tucked up against him, leaving no space between the two of you, kissing him quickly. You’re on the Garden Lodge set, surrounded by the main cast members and countless extras, as the scene is reset.

“Lovebirds,” the director calls with the barest hint of annoyance, and you and Ben immediately look to him, flustered, as if caught red-handed. The rest of the cast look like they’re trying to hide their laughter, “don’t forget you’re meant to be annoyed during all of this.” And you nod adamantly but rest your head on Ben’s shoulder; he taps your shoulder once, which makes you smile. You reach down and draw a check mark against his thigh.

“Love you,” he murmurs before he takes a sip of prop champagne to hide his smile as the director calls action at the other end of the set with Rami. You give Ben’s thigh a squeeze.

“Love you too.”

----

Highschool kids are fucking savages.

“Are you going to be in the next X-Men movie?”

“Connor, that’s not-“ Jamie tries, but you straighten your posture, happy to answer.

“Yes I am!”

“Why?”

“Connor, what the fuck?” One of the kid’s friends hisses and Jamie sighs deeply, reminding her not to use that kind of language. You, however, gave a bemused look to the kid, Connor.

“What do you mean?”

He seems to have realized his mistake, and is quick to backtrack, stuttering that he thought your character wasn’t coming back because the Horsemen and Apocalypse were no more. You kindly explain that there’s more to your character than being a henchman. He nods sagely.

At the end of the class, like with all of the other classes you’d attended throughout the day, you answered a rapid-fire round of questions about anything, not just Shakespeare and theater related.

“Are you really dating the guy who plays Steve Harrington?” One girl calls, referencing a rumor you’d seen circulating a few days ago; the same had been said about you and Tye several months ago, but both were easy to ignore. The girl, Keely, quickly silenced by her friend, who, embarrassed, informs her that you’re dating Angel from Apocalypse; “wait, the blonde one?” The first girl stage whispers, turning red. Her friend nods, and the girl mutters a quick apology.

“Are the Stranger Things kids nice?”

“Incredibly!”

“How old are you?”

“Almost twenty-two.”

“Oh, shit that’s younger than I was expecting –“

“Rian, language please.” Jamie calls.

“Sorry, Mr Fulleur-Keene.”

“How’d you become friends with Mr Fulleur-Keene?”

“I was in a play with his husband when we were younger.”

“What’s been your favourite movie to be in?”

“X-Men Apocalypse,” it’s always your answer whenever anyone asks.

----

“Y/N can you come hang out with us on set again?” Joe Mazzello calling you is not a surprise; the main four BoRhap cast members have gotten very close, to the point where you’d had them over for dinner at you and Bens’ flat last time you were in town.

“Aw, Joe do you miss me?” You teased.

“Of course, if I was not a firm believe of bros-before-those-who-are-not-bros, I would have tried to steal you in an instant,” he says, with so much faux seriousness that it’s clear he’s making a joke. Ben still makes a mildly offended noise in the background.

“And if I didn’t have the most wonderful boyfriend in the world,” you said, matching his tone, “I’d still chose Rami.”

“Ouch,” Joe gasps, and you’re guessing you’re on speaker phone judging by the way you can hear Gwil and Ben laugh, and Rami call out a very pointed ‘thank you’ in the background, much to Joe’s fake annoyance, “but yes, we all miss you, but Ben’s moping-“

“I am not moping!” Ben crows in the background, his laughter immediately dying down, “I don’t-“

“He actually doesn’t mope,” you agree, and Joe makes a noise in the back of his throat, which you ignore, “you know we live together, right? I’ll see him tonight, I doubt he’s moping.”

“Joe’s the one who’s moping!” Ben calls, and you hear them bickering for a few moments, and then a loud clatter.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” it’s Gwilym’s gentle welsh amusement that greets you, amid scuffling sounds.

“It’s no worry, I’m free today anyways; how long are you guys filming for, or do you wanna all just get dinner after?”

“Dinner would be great, love,” Ben sounds strained when he shouts it, and Gwil reiterates to make sure you’d heard it. When you’re in town, dinner with the BoRhap boys is a very common occurrence, and one you look forward to.

----

“We’re so glad you could come on board, you got the pages we sent out last week, right?” Venom’s assistant director is chattering away to you while you’re sitting patiently in the makeup chair. You make a noise that indicates that you did while the makeup artist is applying your painfully familiar prosthetics. “Just a few little flashback scenes, a little bit of B-roll, a nice Easter Egg, you know? Easy as.”

All the work you’d done with your movement coach for Riot Control feels like it’s paid off tenfold as you walk with an uneven, inhuman gait, expression black, twitching, offputting. If Riot Control was your character trying to hold herself together, then the flashbacks in Venom are the moments where she loses control, where Riot fully takes over.

There’s something feral, and very wrong with Control here, something that can’t be shown in a PG-13 X-Men film. You think you like this version of her more, just a little bit. She is ugly and rotting and using this Symbiote for his power, just as he is using her.

When you scream, you throw your all into it, and the very first time the entire crew is dead silent behind the camera. It’s meant to be a flashback to when you first merge with the Symbiote, and the pain of it takes you by surprise, the scream causing the Symbiote pain, which then causes it to twitch and convulse inside you, a feedback loop of sound and pain, and your legs buckle and you fall to the floor, twitching.

The director calls cut with you gasping and shaking and grinning on the floor of the set, feeling a familiar rush of power that came with blowing people’s expectations out of the water.

“Damn,” an assistant marvels under their breath, voicing the thought they all seemed to be having.

----

You do a screen test for a film with the code name TrIXie, but you have very little idea what it was about. Everything for it was very hush-hush, just like it was for your screen test for Apocalypse.

----

There’s several different premieres for Ready Player One within the space of a few weeks, all with a different, flashy look for you to wear.

“Nineteen-eighty-eight’s Beetlejuice! Who invited you?” Tye announced, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of your striped blazer, though he hugs you in greeting. You take it in stride, however, giving him a faux pitying look.

“Whoever made the guest list really should have checked it, how’d an old coat rack make it all the way from the dumpster?” you tell him sweetly, to which his expression sours, and he looks down at the dressed down, brown sweater and black slacks he’d been put in; neither of you looked bad, obviously, it was habit more than anything else. All of you had been told not to overdo your looks for the South by Southwest red carpet, which you were more than happy to comply with. Of course, after a moment you both concede with genuine compliments, so excited to see the product of all your hard work on the big screen.

----

“We should go somewhere,” Ben muses in the early hours of the morning, all warm and soft in the afterglow, “a holiday.”

“Where would we go?” You ask around a yawn, fingers carding through his hair.

“Anywhere; Australia, Alaska, Cairo? Somewhere we’ve never been.”

“Cairo,” you ponder softly, “we did spend a good deal of time pretending to be there, would be nice to actually see it in person,” tugging his hair, you hear his stifled, breathy groan and grin, “when were you thinking of going?”

“When were you free?”

You pause, considering, and realise that the next few months are the only time you and Ben will have free until some time in 2019, probably. You’re in talks with whatever that TrIXie project is, Stranger Things Season 3 is going into production in just a month, and there’s apparently massive reshoots scheduled for Riot Control starting in August.

“Next week?”

----

Perhaps he’d intended for the two of you to visit Cairo all along, you realise looking at him with wide-eyed disbelief as he offers you a ring, and a promise across a candle-lit dinner. It’s quiet, it’s honest, it’s you mean the world to me, and there’s no-one else in the world who makes me half as happy or half as proud as you do.

The sun is staining the sky lilac and pink and gold where it’s hiding, quickly setting beneath the pyramids, haloing them in light. Maybe you’re reading more symbolism into it than you should, but you’d lost him once here, in spirit, on film, and now he’s brought you back, for the first time, to promise that’ll never happen again.

You’re looking at the ring, watching it catch the light as you let this all wash over you. He’s waiting, hopeful beyond anything else.

“Me?” The word escapes you as tears of joy begin to cloud your vision. The laugh he gives is quiet, cathartic, and he looks like he’s on the edge of a sarcastic quip, but then you’re smiling, and the tears begin to spill as you clutch your hands to your chest, and his heart melts.

“You.”

You’re nodding, already you’re nodding, yes of course absolutely, spilling from you in a joyous rush as you offer your shaking hand, and he gets up, his hands warm on yours as he slides the ring on your finger. It fits perfectly. You stand to meet him, kiss him, let yourself get wrapped up in his embrace, laughing and crying and brimming with delight.

----

“Whatever you want to say, keep it to yourself,” Joe Keery warns you the first time you see him in his Scoops Ahoy costume during the fitting for Stranger Things 3. You’re trying very desperately to repress a smile, but it’s not working.

“But I like your little chicken legs,” you teased him, though he didn’t seem nearly as amused. The tables turn, however, once you’re called over by the head of costume design, hands you a red and gold movie attendant uniform. He, very kindly, doesn’t laugh at the little hat they put you in.

“Hey, can I,” you hesitate, when talking to the head of costuming, spinning the ring on your left hand, “do you think I could wear this on a chain around my neck? For the show? I’d tuck it in, but I just… I’d like to have it on me.” She gives you a warm, knowing smile, nods, and gets you a chain.

This season starts a month into Summer Break, and your character, Vanity, has just gotten back from a month-long stay at a last-chance camp for young delinquents. Her relationship with Steve still isn’t exactly public knowledge, since they’re both young and kind of dumb, trying to uphold their own reputations. The only people who know are the kids, Nancy, and Jonathan. And honestly, who else would believe either of them?

Her parents have gotten her a job at the Starcourt movie theater to try and teach her responsibility, though it’s success is still yet to be proven. When she’s not working, she’s bothering Steve at his new job at the Scoops Ahoy Ice-cream Parlor, where she’s quietly jealous of his friendship with Robin, who is cool and funny and who Vanity’s quietly worried has a crush on her secret boyfriend.

“Ambrose!” It’s your first scene of the second season, and Gaten, as Dustin, calls for your character, delighted. You’d been playing at being in a mood, as if on a break from a job you hated, though you perked up at the sound of his voice.

“Dustin! Dude!” You crowed, wrapping the kid up in a hug as he scrambled from his seat beside Joe, in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, “how was Camp? Did you open your imagination door?” You grinned, putting on a voice to make the concept sound mystical.

“Duh! And I got a girlfriend!” He practically preened, puffing out his chest, which was a rather sweet sight.

“You gonna stand there all day, Ambrose?” Joe asks with a slight smirk, playing it cool, his voice going deadpan, “or are you gonna set sail on this ocean of flavor?”

You know you have some blocking here, you have to walk to the counter and have an interaction with Maya, playing the new girl, Robin, but Joe’s dead-eyed stare is making it hard to not laugh. It becomes a staring contest where you’re both trying very hard not to break, and in the end, you can’t help but crack up laughing, as do the rest of the cast around you. It’s such a stupid line, you love it.

Cut, reset, another take.

“You gonna stand there all day, Ambrose, or are you gonna set sail on this ocean of flavor?”

This time you keep it together, giving him a sarcastic smile, and turn on your heel towards the counter.

“Aren’t you the girl who almost burned down the science department?” Maya asks, and you lean your elbow on the counter, resting your chin on your hand as you look at her with a sharp little smile.

“Almost,” you agree, and you see the surprised, and slightly flustered reaction she gives, as the two of you had worked out in rehearsals, and you order your ice-cream.

----

[ID: @yourtwittername retweeted two tweets from @JamieFK8:

MR Jamie Fuller-Keene 🌈✨📚: okay can @SHO_Shameless please cast my dear friend @yourtwittername ? because she’s talented as hell and I need her to tell @cameronmonaghan he looks like my husband. That’s not a joke. (Attached is two photos, one from Cameron Monaghan’s Instagram, the actor is posing for a magazine in a floral button-down shirt. The second is one of Andrew, blurry, yawning, and hair a mess over morning coffee, still wearing his pyjamas.)

MR Jamie Fuller-Keene 🌈✨📚: oh god never let me tweet hung over again @yourtwittername how dare u retweet me knowing andy’s going to fillet me for this 😅 😅 😅

You replied to the second tweet.

Y/N Y/L/N ☑️: because you’re not wrong lmao

End ID]

----

“I feel like I’m seeing you every two weeks now,” you’re on stage at the Teen Choice Awards with Tye, playing at being annoyed during your acceptance speech for Best Liplock. You’ve each got your arm around a surfboard that represents the award, standing awkwardly beside one another.

“Yeah, I was told after the movie I never had to see you again,” he played along, and you cleared your throat, leaning into the microphone.

“I mean… there’s still- we are still doing another X-Men movie together,” you reminded him, and he conceded on that point.

“But I don’t have to kiss you in that one,” he reminded, “it’s my favourite part so far.”

“Well then it’s agreed, let’s never do it again,” and you reach out with your free hand, as if to shake it, though it was a bit you’d both planned, pulling each other in for a big, dramatic show-kiss as the crowd screamed around you. Stepping back, you’re both laughing and a little flustered, before heading off stage while the next musical act is introduced.

----

“What’s the chain mean?” Joe Keery asks between takes, sitting in the back room of the Scoops shop. Gaten’s getting notes, and Maya’s kicking the wall, sitting opposite you both.

“Huh?” It takes you a minute to process, before the instinctual, bashful smile spreads across your lips, “oh, it’s kind of stupid and sappy,” you murmur, and he raises his eyebrows, both confused and intrigued, and you pull the chain out from where it had been tucked beneath your costume, with only the barest glint of it visible by your collar, “it’s not actually a character thing,” you pause to consider, “I mean it is; in my mind it’s something dumb, like a nail from Steve’s bat from last year that she bent into a circle.”

“That’s actually kind of cute,” Joe gives a fond grin, knocking his shoulder against yours, but you’re not done, and finally you pull the ring out too.

“But it’s actually my engagement ring,” you pause, dropping your gaze to where you were fiddling with the simple little ring, “like, my actual real-life engagement ring; I’m not allowed to wear it on my hand, but I didn’t want to take it off.”

“Oh, shit dude, for real?” He asks softly, eyes going wide. You nod, giving a toothy, pleased smile in return, “Ben, right?” Another nod from you, “that’s so fantastic, congratulations!” And he gives you a side hug. Neither of you can shake your weirdly proud and sunny aura for the rest of the shoot. You haven’t told many people, trying to keep your private life relatively private, but it feels nice to have someone share in your happiness like this.

----

“You’re in the new Star Wars movie?!” Alexandra is the first to call you, waking you up at six in the morning after you’d wrapped on a scene only three hours before.

“I’m what?” You asked groggily, eyes barely open as you held the phone to your ear.

“It’s all over Twitter!”

At least now you knew what the TrIXie project was.

According to the email from your manager that you’d received last night but hadn’t looked at, your character was named Zorii Bliss, an old acquaintance of Poe Dameron’s, which means you’d be seeing more of Oscar Isaac. You’d be more excited in a few hours; for now, you put your phone on airplane mode and went back to sleep.

----

“So you’re trying to tell me that you’re dating the girl who sets fires for fun? You? Mister Hair, Mister Perfect?” Maya snorted a laugh, leaning on the table in the back set, surrounded by cameras as she and Joe worked through a scene for episode four together, “you know she’s too cool for you, right?” She smirks.

“Why would you say that?” Joe sighs, frowning.

“You know, between the Russian conspiracy and this, I believe the Russian thing more.” She announces, ignoring him.

You’re not on set for that scene, you’re actually not on set for a lot of your favorite scenes this season, but you’re so grateful you still get to work with Maya and Joe as much as you do. The way your characters interact is so fascinating, and hearbreaking in the end, when all this time, while your character had been so terrified of losing Steve to Robin, it turns out that she had been pining after you this whole time; its not that she didn’t believe that Vanity and Steve were dating, it’s that she didn’t want to believe it.

Yet again, Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, gets everything she wants, everything she’s never allowed to admit she wants.

----

“Merissa’s kind of blowing up on TikTok.”

“Andrew, you’re not allowed to just say made-up words at me like I’ll understand what they mean.”

“Come on, you know what TikTok is, don’t you?”

“Kind of, how do you know what it is?”

“The teens in my show –“

“You sound so old, dude.”

“- are all singing Hit or Miss at each other, and Jamie comes home whistling this song about – listen I don’t know who Tracer is, but someone wants to be Tracer - believe me, everything I learned about it, I learned against my will, except -!”

“Except?”

“Merissa’s got half a million followers.”

----

A lot of your scenes in the middle episodes are with Priya and Gaten, Erika and Dustin that is, trying to rescue Steve and Robin from the underground Russian bunker that they’d found themselves caught in.

Gaten bursts into the room where Joe and Maya have been tied up, wielding a stun baton like a pro, frying the actor in the lab coat that had been looming over the pair, who does a convincing impression of being cooked from the inside out as he drops to the ground. On the other hand, Maya and Joe are doing an incredible job of acting completely out of their minds.

“Henderson! That’s just crazy, I was just talking about you!” Joe slurs, grinning at Gaten as he undoes the ties around his wrists.

“Vanity! Miss Vanity, you guys ‘ve come to save us!” Maya sings amid laughter, and you kneel down in front of her, gentle and attentive as you work at undoing her ties too, and Gaten tells them to get ready to run, and the scene cuts. There’s something in the air that’s making Maya and Joe giggly, but it adds to the scene, so they manage to make it through most takes without too much trouble. There’s a take where Maya lifts her joined wrists to gently touch your cheek, which you think is kind of sweet, even though your character’s been oblivious to her hints the entire time.

Episode seven, however, is your favourite to film.

“Vanny, Vanny, hey,” Joe’s got his head in your lap where he’d fallen, and he’d seemed to forget about you while he was being interrogated by Gaten. Now, however, he was reaching up and none too gently patting your face, “Vanny, hey if we’re going to the food court, come get- come get food with me. A real live date.”

“In the food court while you’re drugged and beaten bloody?” You asked, deadpan, refusing to break when he sticks his fingers up your nose. Joe laughs loud at his own antics, as it’s written in the script.

“Awe, were you worried about me?” He teased, before struggling to sit up, digging his elbow into your thigh.

“Ow, motherfucker- !” You yelped, and Joe immediately broke to apologise, getting off of you, and you waived him off, just rubbing the sudden sore spot as they reset from your line.

This time, when he sits up, he’s careful not to injure you before delivering his next triumphant line to Maya.

“I told you she wasn’t too cool for me!”

“Oh, dude, she definitely is,” Maya laughed loudly, leaning back in her squat until she was propped up against the wall. When Joe turns, his eyes wide and almost comically sad, you fight not to laugh yourself. It’s difficult to look as tender as the director wants when Joe’s actively trying to make you laugh.

“You’re not too cool for me, are you?” He sounds a little desperate, which goes a ways to helping you fight your urge to laugh. In the moment, you reach up to where you can feel your ring pressed against your chest beneath your costume, and think of the boy waiting for you back home to get you to the emotional place you need to be.

“I –“ you cut yourself off, tone too gentle, too raw, too honest; your character can’t tell him she loves him here, “definitely am,” you concede, and his expression falls, so you reach out, running your thumb gently over the prosthetic that makes his cheek look swollen, “I’m totally kidding, babe.” And he leans back against you, into your arms, this time on purpose. It’s a disgustingly cute moment. The director calls cut.

----

“I miss you so fucking much, I wish you were here,” you spend more nights than you can count with your phone to your ear, wishing Ben was actually beside you. He’d come to visit you a few times on set, in the months you’d been in America, but the visits always felt too short. Now, in Canada, just days away from starting reshoots for Riot Control, he feels further away than ever.

“I know, babe, I know,” he said softly, and you can hear the ache in his voice. Your gaze drifts to the sky, to the stars glittering overhead, and you play with your ring absentmindedly, “I could come see you, it’d be nice to see the gang again too.”

“Aren’t you headed it Italy in a week?” You ask, and a white-hot stab of pride flares through you, knowing that he was going to be filming for a Michael Bay movie.

“I could leave tomorrow and come visit you before I go there,” he offered, and oh how you wanted to say yes, but you didn’t want to burn him out too badly.

“We’ll see each other soon, when I have a few days free, or you have a few days free, not immediately before we’re both starting shoots,” you laugh, but your heart isn’t in it, and for a moment, all you can do is sigh, your eyes closed, curling in on yourself as if to try and alleviate the loneliness.

“I miss you,” he murmurs, and, like a flash, you have words running through your mind, though you can’t quite connect which specific song you’re thinking of.

“Which- which Queen song is the one with I’m happy at home in it?” You ask softly, and you hear his soft chuckle on the other end of the line.

“You’re My Best Friend.” His tone is knowing and softly fond; he knows what you mean, what you’re implying with the song alone, and he hopes you know that he feels it too. The distance feels like lightyears.

“Ooh, you make me live~” you sing softly, now that you’ve got the tune in your mind, and he hums along to, for a few bars, even as your voice grows quiet, “I miss you too, fuck I wish you were here.” And he seems to pick up on the notes of desperation in your voice, because his answer shifts the tone of the conversation entirely, to something playful.

“And what would we be doing if I was there?” You can hear him smirking now, and can feel yourself already growing warm; she shift to more of a sitting position against the headboard.

“If you were right here beside me? In this bed?”

“Yeah, tell me what we’d be doing.”

Your mouth goes dry, but it’s been a long time since you’ve been shy with Ben, and you’re not going to restart now; you let yourself grin, and get settled against the pillows.

----

The reshoots for Riot Control are intense.

Thanks to a corporate deal between Disney and Fox which resulted in Fox unfortunately joining the megacorporation, this film is officially going to be the last X-Men movie in this canon, which means no Dark Phoenix, and Riot Control can’t leave things open ended.

Which turns out to mean that Control is going to die.

For some reason, it stings.

Some scenes need to be moved and changed to round out the plot, some characterization reworked and redeveloped, and most importantly, that final scene between Control and Jean needs to change drastically.

It’s interesting to watch how it changes, how Jean, who had been so adamant during the original cut of the film that despite everything Control had done, everyone she’d hurt, that she was able to be saved, to now, thanks to the reshoots, be conflicted, feel Scott’s pain for his brother, and the pain Control inflicts, and think that Charles’ ideology of ‘no-one is ever truly gone’ might not be correct.

Which makes it all the more painful at the end, because finally she sees that Control is not beyond help, but it’s too late for Control to see that, so Control gives herself up in favour of causing anyone any more pain.

“We can help you,” once again, you and Sophie are crying in each other’s arms, standing on a pile of debris in front of a set of green screens, “please,” she begs, “I know there’s hope somewhere deep inside of you, I know –“

“You know so much,” your voice cracks, and you take her hands where they’re holding your face, and you press them harder to your cheeks, you’re looking at her like you know the hurt she’s feeling, like you know you’re the cause of it, but you can’t stop yourself; her expression is horrified as she realizes what you’re doing, “and yet you still think everyone deserves to be saved.”

“Cassidy, don’t do this –“ she struggles, as if trying to pull out of your grip, but there’s lights going off around you, cameras close to your face, which is free from prosthetics for the first and only time in the film. You’d already done this scene a million times with the prosthetics and contacts, now for the final takes without.

And you quickly step out of the scene when the director gives the signal, and Jean screams up at the sky, like a little part of your spirit is momentarily imbued within her, reaching up, trying to catch the last CGI embers of you that will be added in post; it occurs to you that a lot of people end up as ashes around Jean.

“How do you keep doing this?” Sophie half laughs once cut is called again, her voice raspy from screaming.

“My blood is fifty percent lemon-honey tea,” you answer with a snort, and she nods, as if seriously considering getting a cup for herself. Someone hands her a waterbottle, and she takes the time to pat the tears from her cheeks before taking a sip. An assistant comes to touch up both your makeup.

----

You catch Alexandra watching some of Merissa’s TikToks in between takes, and just grinning like a fool, all sappy sighs and gentle smiles. You don’t say anything, but it warms your heart. When you finally cave and download the app, she’s the first person you follow. She’s got close to a million followers now, and as you scroll further down, you see Alexandra in more than a few of her videos, in the background.

You realise you don’t recognize the background; it wasn’t the place you’d helped her move into a while ago, but you find a video captioned ‘Moving Day’ from about a month ago, set to Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5, and it’s a montage of herself and Alex moving all of her things into an apartment that’s already partially furnished and decorated.

Alex’s apartment.

Merissa’s making something of herself, you soon discover; she’s working for Buzzfeed, has been in a few of their videos, and is putting her journalism degree to arguably good use. A bittersweet pride flares in your chest when you realise that you’ve both been so busy that you hadn’t even know about all the changes in her life.

You invite her to set, to catch up and hang out, and thankfully, she says yes.

----

Oscar wraps you up in a bear hug the first time you see him in rehearsals for Star Wars. He tells you it’s been too long and you’re quick to agree; you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed him until you see him again.

“Congratulations, by the way,” he adds, and you’re confused for all of five seconds before he gestures to your ring that you’d been spinning absentmindedly. Your expression lights up, and you instinctively look at it, Ben’s smile bright in your mind.

“Thanks! It’s Ben’s!” You say, all chipper and awkward, “I mean- he gave it to me, I – we –“ you try and correct, but Oscar’s expression melts, and he doesn’t seem to mind your excited word vomit.

“Ah, jeez, you guys were always so cute, I’m so glad it’s still going well!”

He’s quick to introduce you to the rest of the cast, who are all incredibly kind and charming in their own right, and with Oscar’s seal of approval, they’re quick to treat you like an old friend.

For how little you’re actually in the film, there’s certainly still a lot of training to undertake, including a short, but stylized set of blows traded with Daisy Ridley, and you’re never one to complain about getting your ass kicked by someone pretty. It’s kind of becoming a habit.

It is, however, a little strange at first, to think about flirting with Oscar. Three years ago, he was playing your weird, pseudo-parental-slash-god figure, and now the two of you had a torrid romantic past that obviously ended badly. Not badly enough to stop him flirting with you, of course, Poe Dameron was like that. But still, at first it was weird.

It doesn’t take long to compartmentalize; if you can spend a year alternating between threatening to kick Tye’s ass and aggressively making out with him for cameras, you can flirt with Oscar Isaac. Who, on a completely unrelated note, has only gotten more handsome in the years since you’ve seen him in person.

----

“Benjamin that photo of you on top of that fancy dome building makes me both afraid for you, and feel like I want to do unholy things to you,” is how you open the phone call to your fiancé only five minutes after he sends you a photo from the set of 6 Underground.

“Why are you whispering? Where are you?” He laughs at the other end of the line, and yet again you curse your misaligned schedules; while Star Wars IX is filming in England, Ben’s currently in Italy, standing on top of buildings and looking absolutely gorgeous.

“I stepped out of wardrobe for the moment,” you admitted. At that, Ben huffed a laugh, following it with a contented sigh, calling you cute.

“When can I come see you? Are you free next weekend? Italy’s not that far.”

“I’ll be back in just a few weeks, BoRhap premiere, remember? Not long now.” His voice was warm and calm, softly reassuring. You took a deep breath. Someone’s calling you back to wardrobe, but as you consider the possibility of seeing him again soon, you’re too giddy to mind.

“Okay,” you breathe, “I’ve got to go, just wanted to say you look fine as fuck.”

“Thank you, babe, I appreciate it; ‘love you, talk to you soon.”

----

“Hey, thank you so much for coming out to brunch,” Andrew started one Wednesday morning, holding Jamie’s hand on the table, their fingers linked. You look between them suspiciously, putting down your bag. It looks like an interview setup. It looks like they have news.

“What’s the ulterior motive?” You ask, sitting across from them. They share a look of thinly veiled excitement. Jamie raises their joined hands, kissing Andrew’s knuckles; the two of them appear to have a silent conversation using only their eyebrows.

“We didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” Andrew finally says, slowly, and he looks back at you. Jamie’s almost bouncing in his seat, “we got approved for adoption.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes going wide, and then, as what he’s said takes a moment to sink in, you stand abruptly, your chair clattering to the floor as you reach over the table to hug them both tightly, “oh my god! Guys, congratulations!”

----

You hold a fancy prop pistol to Oscar’s head and spit insults at him through a visor. What you’d originally worried about – your shared history as actors – actually ended up helping your characterization. There’s a bit of Control in how you play Zorii, you realise, as during rehearsals, for the first time you meet him, instead of saying the scripted line for the run through, you say-

“Hey, remember that time you asked me to help take over the world and instead died in front of me? What was that about?”

Oscar, who hadn’t been expecting that at all, chokes out a laugh, eyes wide, and it becomes something of an inside joke, that all of Zorii’s anger at Poe was merely Control’s anger at Apocalypse, reincarnated. It actually helped a lot with your motivations, having something you could relate to, to help ground your emotions.

Oscar doesn’t seem concerned for you like he had during Apocalypse. When you ask him about it, he gives a slight shrug, and a fond smile.

“You seem more secure; you’ve grown into yourself.”

----

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait,” you say in a flustered rush, climbing into the limousine where Ben had been waiting in the garage of the hotel where you were both getting ready for the Bohemian Rhapsody premiere.

“No need to worry, love, we’ve still got plenty of time,” he assured as you closed the door, “you look bloody stunning, by the way,” and when you turn to him, finally, you beam, before you can take in his appearance. Your mouth goes dry all of a sudden, and Ben’s smile widens, “yes?”

“God damn it, Ben,” you breathe, and he knows that tone all too well, pressing a button on the door handle that would roll up the partition between the driver and the back.

“You like it?”

“Tell me you get to keep that- fuck,” you lick your lips and finally look back to his face. He’s smirking like he knows exactly how hot he is, “you just keep wearing all black and thinking you can get away with it.”

“Love, I need you to know that I am barely restraining myself; you are not the only one who’s a fan of what they see.”

“Do not tempt me, Ben,” you warn pressing yourself to his side, hand on his chest, on that sheer fucking back shirt that has you very vividly and precisely thinking about how scratch marks would show up underneath. His heartbeat is quick beneath your palm. His lips, his damn smug smile, is only inches from yours.

“I wouldn’t want to ruin your makeup,” he murmurs. You press your nails against his chest and his smile widens. Tease.

It’s with very deliberate movements that you sit back, open your purse, and remove a single tissue, carefully wiping off your lipstick, informing him in as much of a neutral tone as you can muster, that you’re able to reapply lipstick if necessary. Ben goes to laugh, but you’ve practically launched yourself at him, kissing him within an inch of his life, practically in his lap in the back of this limousine for the entire ride to the premiere.

You let Ben leave first, soaking up the attention from the photographers waiting, while you reapplied your lipstick and straightened your dress.

When you exit the limousine, to much less fanfare, seeing as you were simply a cameo, Joe is the first to spot you from where the main four men are getting photos together; he gives you the most shiteating grin and you fight the urge not to stick your tongue out at him.

Tomorrow there will be photos from the red carpet, of you with the cast, with Ben, with Roger Taylor and Brian May. Tomorrow the world will see you and Ben, toe to toe on the purple carpet as you fix his collar, and they’ll see the ring on your finger, and the love in both your eyes, and finally put two and two together. Tomorrow you won’t even care.

Bohemian Rhapsody leaves you breathless, leaves you on the verge of tears in the theater as you realise that this may just change everything. You’re bursting at the seams with pride, speechless as the credits roll, in awe of your fiancé as everyone around you is cheering and congratulating each other. You’re quiet, but Ben can read the awe on your face, and doesn’t push you for comment with everyone around him chattering excitedly.

There’s an afterparty, and on the way there, you finally speak. It’s just the two of you in the car again, his hand on yours, and your looking at your linked fingers, and the ring gleaming on your finger. He follows your gaze and gives your hand a squeeze, finally asking what you thought of it.

“How did I ever get so lucky as to meet someone as talented and incredible as you?”

“Y/N…” He says softly, his expression surprisingly vulnerable when you reach up and touch his cheek, fingertips brushing his soft skin, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. Slowly, you move in, gaze roaming his face, committing every detail of this moment, of his smile and adoration-filled expression to your memory.

“Ben, you’re the love of my life,” you breathe, gaze locked with his, and holy shit you really mean it. Of course you mean it, but you’ve never considered how far reaching that statement was, how desperately and honestly you wanted him to know. He kisses you in answer, urgent and warm, his free hand cupping your cheek and bringing you closer. I know, the kiss says.

“I’m so proud of you,” the words bubble out, and there’s tears of joy, of euphoria in your eyes when you pull away for a moment, and he’s grinning so wide so proud, and I’m in love, I love him, I love him, I love him, rings in your mind like a mantra, on repeat.

----

If someone had asked you, all the way back in 2015, before Apocalypse, before any of it had even begun, where you saw yourself in the next five years, there’s no way in hell you could have anticipated any of this.

Not even a little bit.

Not the opportunities, not the awards, not the friends, and certainly not Ben.

The idea of a future where you wake up to his smile, golden in the morning light, that was unthinkable at the start. There’s no way you would have foreseen discussing which Queen song to dance to at your wedding – Your My Best Friend and Somebody to Love are top contenders.

You take each other to movie premieres, and award shows, and finally get to take a few months off together. You travel Europe, see sights, let yourselves breathe, bask in the life you’ve built together before you get back to your busy reality.

BoRhap wins SAG Awards, wins Oscars, wins more than the cast and crew had ever anticipated; it’s a moment in time and culture, one that your fiancé is at the epicenter of, and you know you’ll never get tired of seeing him succeed, seeing him flourish.

Andrew and Jamie’s daughter Katherine, who prefers Kitty, is four, and calls you and Ben Auntie and Uncle, and it melts your heart every time. It makes you feel all warm and soft to see two of your best friends doting so much on this little girl who’s quickly come to love them, and you realise that perhaps you and Ben should have a serious conversation about kid; whether or not you personally want them is still up for debate, but it’s still a conversation that needs to be had.

When you win the Teen Choice Award for Best Villain – Female for Riot Control, Merissa’s the one who presents the award, as an influencer in her own right, and you burst into tears when you see the pride in her eyes. Something about this, above the Ensemble Emmy you win for Stranger Things, and the surprising SAG Award nomination the ensemble gets for Riot Control, this Teen Choice Award, as handed to you by your oldest friend, smiling as you both realise just how far you’ve come, it means the most.

And after, Ben will wrap you up in his embrace, brimming with pride and that’s my girl, murmured against your skin, and you can feel his smile in his kiss, in his words, in the reverential way he touches you.

In 2015, you’d been so scared to finally face the boy you’d quietly loved for so long.

Today, you can’t wait to marry him.

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody cast imagine #xma #xmen #xmen apocalypse #xmen cast #xmen cast imagine #xmen apocalypse cast #the angry lizard writes

104 notes · View notes

10boys · 6 years ago

Text

MLQC : Oral (receving)

♡ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Victor:

- Victor loves to get his wee wee sucked !

-But the glory in the action is more so getting to watch you sloppily lick and suck at his tip, face beated red and flushed from your view vice versa

-His #1 material for getting of is your visuals and how you react to him, so having a front row seat to the view of you, exposed and desperate for him makes his ego go insane

-I mean??? On your knees infront of the CEO as hes leasurly laid back in his chair throne,He lays shirtless for you to watch as his chest raises and falls , his fist gripped on your hair to keep your mouth in the spots that please him best. He’ll look down at you with knitted brows, his eyes fluttering with each new wave he recieves

-His long cock will stand straight up, shamelessly and proud. The slightly red tip will stand out aginst his black trousers, unbottoned and slid down just enough to free himself for you (yes i know we all wanna suck on them smooth thighs but he likes his Tough Boy™️ image when hes in his usual dominant mood) the sight of it alone causes a heat to form, clenching your thighs and jaw as to not drool over the image infront of you

-He keeps his jaw locked to contain his moans, but most of the time low breathy groans steadily escape his lips, especially when you keep eye contact , puppy dog eyes looking into his as he watches your body squirm below him for touch wowowie when this man does it he does it

-He is not of fan of starting off with himself though, his oral pleasure usually comes after tedious teasing sessions all focused on you, like said before, he loves knowing what he CAN and WILL do to you, and you probably suck 10x better after anyway. Seeing the desire in your face sends him over on its own and we wont even begin to talk about your whimpers around him

-Our Victor is definitely being treated aswell, before the buttons came undone you were sucking at his neck, hands running through his hair (his favorite), nipping at his ears. You whisper to him about how much you’ve thought of him and how he makes you feel , soon bringing his tent to life. Your tongue trials down over eatch nipple giving them both the appropriate amount of attention as your hands explore all he has to offer. Never in a billion years will he tell you how much he loves being adored and fawned over by you

-Victor is definitely a fucking kinda guy and prefers to finish himself inside of you (protected or not ya know whatever you’re into) , so when you go down he likes to just simply watch your tongue make its way around him. Kiss him up and down, suck at his balls, rub his head against your tongue, its all a show for him and it’s absolutely priceless. Play with his precum and tell him how good he taste and that is the end. Hes now trying to see how far he can fit in :)

-When he’s ready to cum tho his face will be a bit more expressive, his usual tightened face will soften as his mouth opens slightly. His low grunts will become faster and more throaty. His tight grip on your hair traves more so to the back and sides of your head, keeping it in place allowing him to utilizes his hips to softly thrust himself into your face. Although Victor loves to ruin you he’s still very gentle, he sees you as something precious to him, and like glass if he’s too rough he’ll break it. His cum tho? Anywhere really, depends on the mood. Mouth, face, chest,.. but you have noticed that his wave hits a little harder when you look into his eyes mouth wide open ready to taste whatever he has for you it may not taste good but who cares its victor

Lucien:

-Going down on lucien is not only delectable and delicious, its an experience very close to god

-Lucien, a lot like Victor, loves seeing you squirm for him. Out of all the boys Lucien is the most sensual when it comes to your guys’ more intament moments, and, as we all know, he LOVES to fucking tease

-First lets get his image ready, 2k19 birthday card Lucien, white robe loosly tide around his petite waste making his chest appear much larger, as though it’s about to burst. You leasurly lay beside him as he uses one hand to lightly play with your ear, his soft delicate fingertips leave mint-like shivers down your spine as his hand travels down your ear to your neck to pull you closer to him.

-His gaze compaires to the hot sun as heats your skin, a smile spread on his face as he watches you blush and twitch for him. His exposed body so close to your own has a million fantasys running wild, and he knows it. He loves it. The only thing breaking you from your thoughts is the new found wet warmth that quickly ran across your lips.

-And with that, a tongueing session has began. Your hands lovingly interlock as your tongues slowly run agaisnt each other. Lucien loves his view and his control, he’ll hold your chin still as he demands you to “ Be a good girl and stick it out for me”. As your mouth hangs open for him to use as he pleases, he looks down admiring the very spot that will soon have him shooting loadssss lmao srry

-His lavender eyes lock on yours as he exposes his own tongue, giving you a view as you watch it slowly decend onto yours. The tip touches your own as he dances and plays against you. You whimper immediately upon contact, much to his liking. This man loves the intimacy of your mouth, and he will use it as he pleases. He’ll suck, give long licks, exchange spit, put his thumb in your mouth wow why is he not in my mouth :(

-By the time he’s done having his fun,his buldge is shamelessly parading from under his robe (possibly even accompanied by sticky pre-cum if he was truly enjoying himself). Due to all the restless moving and groping his thighs have made themselves known, peeking from under his robe. The sight intices you, and who would our Professor be if he didn’t immediately notice what has your attention? He graps your hand to lay agaisnt his chest, the soft supple flesh glides under your fingertips with ease, encouraging you to wonder. As your hand traces down further and futher , our gentleman unties and exposes himself at your same pace, all with that same Lucien glare. The view of your man layed back, robe undone and ready just for you was enough to make your jaw drop. As you venture lower your fingers begin to feel soft fine hairs, signaling you that treasure is near.

-That was the end for him and you, as you were now bent over for a better position to please him with. Your face was presses to his V-line, licking along his natural curves and dips. Your ass hung loosely in the air competeing for his attention. His brows raise slightly upon first contact, his usual luke-warm temperature now consumed in nothing but a blaze of heat. His white robe still lays over his most intimate area, creating a most delectable view for you as it enhances your imagination of what’s underneath. And boy if he wasnt juicin then hes jucin now.

-the thin material of his white robe sticks with ease to his wetness, allowing undertones of his pink tip to show itself. Lucien lays there, face flushed. He shoots you his sexy smirk as reassurance to continue playing at your discretion. Lucien likes to swallow most of his noises (until he gets heated enough to cloud his head). He’ll shamelessly spit praise and questions at you though,it’s something that gets him incredibly off omg imagine phone sex, “You like that ?” “That feels good huh?” “Touch whatever you’d like angel, im yours” “your mouth..you use it so well”

-You allow your thumb to run across his tip earning a sharp inhale, the friction from the fabric mixed with your gentle hands creating a delectable wave for him. As you move your hand back you watch as he twiches under his robe, one ball falling into view. Your hand caresses his sack in view, and you swear you’ve never came untouched but today might be the day. Its warm and soft as it takes up your much smaller hand. Lucien seems to be enjoying it too, as his gaze that’s usually on you is now fixed on your ass to further get him off. His brows tightly knot and as he bites his lip concealing his low grunts and groans. His balls tighten in your hand causing you to lick your lips in anticipation. You slowly peel away the damp cloth, a small string of cum streching out as the robe is disgarded. And there he lay. In all his glory , he spreads his legs wider as he twiches again, silently desperate for your mouth. Lucien is a very patient partner, although he has his rough moments and definitely rougher desires he’ll maintain his composure for your likening.

-You position yourself over his leg, allowing you to grind and relieve even a little bit of what feels like the screaming heat in your core. You bend down to first lick and suck on his balls earning a breathy inhale from him. The long-lasting teasing definitely paid off as you watch his hips immediately begin to slightly buckle and thrust into your warm mouth. He extends one arm to begin caressing your face, but the gentle act quickly turns as it begins traveling down, first dipping your shirt, exposing your hung chest to him.He’ll fondle them in sedating awe before leaving them to wonder your ass. You might even feel fingertips brush against your most inner lips, his ego enlarging after feeling your byproduct of him.

-Once he’s finally in your mouth you both moan in unison, the satisfaction of his taste is hypnotizing as you subconsciously bob your head onto him. It didnt take long for his pre-cum and your spit to create the perfect sensation for the man who truly deserves it. The usual shit-talker lucien is silent, eyes squeezed shut as his mouth loosly hangs open you swear you seen drool. His heart eyes are hooded as he opens them to gaze down at you. Large cock absolutely covered in liquids, the spits traveled down leaving web-like strings across your chin and chest. Lucien is very large, so you use your hands to work what can’t fit (unless you’re a BIG BITCH who can just throat that shit, go for it luvs, it aint me tho)

-A thin layer lf sweat lightly coats his dark bangs draped over even darker eyes. His realease is approaching. His orgasms are usually very forceful, he likes to pent himself uo for his moments with you. As he comes nearer his chest rises and falls to drum of his quickened breathing, one hand gliding across his chest to stimulate his nipples. His head is leaned back exposing his pale neck sheen in his sweat. His long body spread about the bed becomes restless, hips bucking and thrusting as higher pitched moans begin to escape his mouth. You feel him twich in your mouth and ready yourself to take it. His hands grip your hair as his body caves into itself, he twiches and bucks until you taste a familiar taste in your mouth. His body stiffens until the spurts are no more. He immediately relaxes his muscles with heavy breathes.

Ahh this was a bit longer than I anticipated! Its also my first headcanon so pls take it easy on me as i find my fit, I wrote victors at night and luciens at work...i think the deference in detail is obvious lol but then again lucien is my second fav so i got carried away!! Theres alot of (uneeded) forplay in his even tho it was supposed to just be oral... i dont think anyone’s complaining tho haha. I want these to come out very steadily so i will be making Gavins and Kiros in another post VERY SOON ! Since im new my inbox is open to request! Ty - myk

See Gavin , Kiro

108 notes · View notes

a-jynx · 6 years ago

Text

Who’s The Cutest?

Summary: Your 2-year-old daughter, Harley, has been having horrible fits lately, after exhausting all your options, you finally turn to Sam for some help.

Pairing(s): Sam x reader, daughter Harley, mentions of Uncle Dean

Warnings: None besides, tooth-rotting fluff, and some implied near the end ;)

Small note: This is based off a cute ass video I saw on IG, and I could NOT get this idea out of my head! I hope you guys enjoy it!

SPN Taglist: @laceyn-1201, @waywardnewcomer, @supernatural-teamfreewillpage, @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name, @casiskween, @great-godpotato-akane, @closetspngirl, @specialagentlokitty, @dearsmileyman, @im–an–angel–you–assbutt, @destiel-trenchcoatangel, @msimpala67, @thetallassgirl @invisibledevour,@gabriels-trix, @gabby913, @xiumin-girl99, @stileslove, @fabinaforever11, @samwinchesterssexyface, @billiexmendes, @ilovemymoose, @hobby27, @moonlight-babeh, @moosekateer13, @exo-nova, @mlovesstories, @fabinaforever11, @shatteredabby, @keithseabrook27, @xostephanie

SPN Taglist is open! Just send a message/Ask w/ an 💜 attached & you’ll be added! Or, if you've added and want to be removed, just send an Ask!

Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated & encouraged! 💖

I could feel tears in my eyes as I stared at my daughter, her lungs projecting the loudest screams she could muster while large tears rolled down her reddened cheeks. “Pumpkin, please,” I whispered as her echoing choked sobs turned into hiccups, only to break back into chest rattling and head-throbbing cries.

“Harley, baby, what’s wrong, please tell momma,” I moved closer, gently grabbing her wrist only to quickly release it as she yanked away and placing it in her lap as she continued to wail. Sam and Dean had been gone for little more than a week, and this was the longest Har hasn’t seen her daddy… “Har, come on, daddy and uncle Dean will be back any day now!” I sighed, scrubbing at my face as I grumbled small curses to Sam for making her a daddy’s girl.

“Want dada! Want dada!” Har began to chant between cries, I slumped against the sofa, one of my hands resting on her leg as she suddenly went quiet, soft hiccups breaking through her sniffling. Craning my neck, I looked up at her with softening eyes, my short nails dragging across her calf in a soothing manner. She turned her head, flashing me those big doe eyes that resembled those of her father’s -- that gorgeous sunflower pattern hidden behind a layer of tears. “Baby, I promise, daddy’s going to be home so soon that you’ll forget all about these fits,” I whispered, rubbing my thumb down her leg as she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she continued to sniffle, shaking her head.

“Oh, mighty God, smite me now!” I rolled my head onto the couch cushion, swallowing thickly as I cracked open one of my eyes, seeing Harley sitting with her little lips pursed into a pout while her little cheeks glowed red; I couldn’t fight back a small chuckle.

She turned her head towards me, furrowing her small brows before crawling towards me, tilting her head like she’s seen her uncle Cas do more times than I could count. “What’s funny?”

“You are, baby girl,” I smirked as she gasped, clambering to take the mountain climb down off of the couch as I reached over, placing a hand on her bottom to help her as her little feet hit the carpet.

“I’s not funny!” She stomped as I smirked, cocking a brow and turning my body towards her, resting my elbow on the couch whilst resting my cheek against my palm. “I say you are,” she gently huffed, shaking her braids around with a pout.

“Nuh-huh!”

“Uh-huh.”

“No, momma!” She growled, making me chuckle again when the iron door above us creaked open, revealing two overly worked hunters trudging in. My lips tore into a smile as I stood, as Harley stood in front of me, staring up as she watched her uncle and father descend down the stairwell.

“Momma!” She snapped her head towards me as I nodded, smiling as she broke into a little run towards her father. I walked behind her, leaning against the back of the couch as they stopped, Sam’s tired face quickly breaking into the largest grin, crouching down as Harley slammed into his chest.

“Dada!” She squealed as he stood, holding her close against his chest as he peppered light kisses all over her rosy face. Her small squeals welcomed after the hours of crying she had just done. Dean grinned at the sight, stealing a kiss on the cheek from his niece as he moved away, allowing Sam to take the time with his daughter as she began to bombard him with questions about his “trip”.

“Hey, sweetheart, you feelin’ alright? Lookin’ a little more beat than us.” Dean half-grinned as I scoffed, moving close and hugging him tightly as he wrapped an arm around my waist. “‘M fine… Harley, however,” I sighed as he nodded, frowning as I pulled away, rubbing at my eyes with my palms. I felt a squeeze from behind, turning my head, I caught Sam’s lips as they crashed into me, making me grin as he slowly pulled away yet he kept his forehead pressed to mine.

“Hi,” he whispered as Dean slowly left, taking the duffel bags with him as I grinned, looking up through my eyelashes.

“Hey,” I glanced towards our daughter, smirking as I noticed the slight pout tugging on her lips. “I don’t think someone likes momma getting all the attention.” Sam frowned before looking at Harley, a small smile on his lips as he used his free hand to tickle her stomach, causing her to squeal and grab at his hands.

“What’s the matter with you, Har?”

“Momma mean,” she pouted more, puckering her lips as I rolled my lips together, fighting back a smile as Sam shot me a look as I shrugged gently. “Ooh, is she now? Why was momma being mean?”

“She says I funny!” She waved her arms around as Sam adjusted her, his lips still in a large smile as I moved towards the couch settling on it as he moved towards me, settling onto the couch as Har crossed her arms.

“But, Har, you are!”

“That’s mean,” she huffed as Sam frowned, glancing at me as I sighed, closing my eyes and rubbing at them as his frowned deepened. I felt the couch shift, making me open my eyes to see Har settled on his lap.

“Har, I want you to try something with me, okay?” Sam asked, sending her a gentle smile as she squinted her eyes, pursing her lips as she slowly nodded. “Good, alright, so after everything I say, I want you to say ‘me’ in the loudest voice you can!” Sam threw one arm over the edge of the couch, exaggerating his words as she giggled, nodding.

“Alright, who’s the best helper?”

“Me!”

“Good! Okay, okay, who’s the funniest?”

“Me!”

“Awesome, Har! Who’s the most creative?”

“Me!” Harley’s grin split across her face, almost reaching her ears as Sam nodded, himself grinning larger than the sun. I cozied up on the couch as I watched, seeing my baby girl finally laughing and smiling made all those days and hours of her crying or missing her daddy worth it.

“Alright, Har, this last one is a big one, you ready?”

“Yeah!”

“Alright, out of all of the girls on this planet Earth, and there have been billions, who’s the cutest?”

“Me! Me, me, me! I’m cutest!” Harley screeched as she jumped up, her little arms and legs kicking around as Sam held her up, allowing her to wiggle in mid-air as I watched in glee. I felt as if I were floating on cloud nine…

“That’s right! You’re the cutest, my little Harley!” Sam grinned, tossing her up as she screamed, laughter arising from her mouth as I sighed, just allowing them to soak in their time together. I glanced up to see Dean leaning against the doorway, my lips tugging into a grin as I gently elbowed Sam, who snapped his head towards me as I nodded towards his older brother. “Har, baby girl, I think Uncle Dean needs some loving too.” I whisper-shouted as Harley snapped her head around, her braids flying as she wiggled in her father’s hands, him quickly setting her down as she took off towards her uncle, who scooped her up and tickled her sides, another squeak echoing around the bunker as Dean nodded to me, taking Harley back to his “man cave” which was made into her playroom.

Groaning, I sunk further into the couch as I felt an arm wrap around me, making me peel open one of my eyes as I glanced up to see Sam smirking down at me. I moved closer, snuggling into his side as he leaned down, pressing his lips to my head as I grinned.

“I’ve missed you so much, babe… I just- I’m sorry we were gone for so long.” Sam sighed, his voice low as I hummed, playing with his flannel as I looked up, feeling sleep slowly take over as I moved closer into my man’s arms.

“It’s fine, Sammy… I’m just happy you and Dean are back safely, especially because that little girl needed her daddy.” I grinned as Sam scoffed, his arm squeezing me closer as a content sigh left my lips.

“What about you…?” His voice grew low as I craned my neck, biting back the smirk as I moved to sit up some. I tugged on the ears of his flannel, making him sit up and away from the back of the sofa, his lips pulled into a smirk as I gently kissed at his jawline before moving up, pressing my lips against his warm, soft yet dry lips. Moving in sync as his hand came to rest on my hip, making me grin into the kiss, him moving and deepening it.

“I definitely needed my Sammy back,” I murmured, leaning down and pressing a few feather-like kisses to his throat as he tilted his head, allowing me access while his hand moved up and down my side, the other resting on my ass. “Those two weeks were chaos without you, for me and for Harley,” I whispered against his Adam’s apple, causing it to bob as he gently squeezed, making me sit up.

“Well, have no fear, your knight in flannel is here,” he grinned as I rolled my eyes, pressing my chest against his and slowly reaching up, wrapping the collar of his flannel around my hands as I tugged him forward, our noses pressed together as I smirked.

“Thank the highest of heavens, I don’t believe I could’ve lasted another week,” I grinned as he pressed forward, his hips pistoned up as I broke our kiss to give him a breathy moan. He smirked, leaning forward and sloppily leaving open mouth kisses on my throat, sucking and biting at my special spot.

Suddenly, Sam stood making me squeal as he pressed me tighter against him before quickly moving towards our bedroom, I couldn’t hold back the giggles as he quickly threw open our door, and lightly kicked it behind him. My back met the cushion of our bed with a bounce, I grinned up at my husband.

“Who’s the cutest wife in the world?” Sam leaned down, nibbling at my jaw and throat as I sighed, allowing my eyes to flutter shut.

“Me.”

---

Well, it’s not Part 11, but I hope it’s good!

Hope you guys enjoyed this!

---

163 notes · View notes

unproduciblesmackdown · 5 years ago

Note

i was gonna send an ask like "have you considered: 'anger is a type of geography' + 4x11" and then i checked and you actually had! but if you feel like considering it More then here's a free space

oh thanks for these Layers of Allyship re: humoring my repeated [anger geography sign tapping] and checking for things and then sending me asks about it all to invite yet more Consideration.........yeah i feel like i mentioned it at least once in tags or smthing lol??? but here comes yet more consideration / giving it an In The Text post if that doesn’t exist already yet either

the Anger Is A Type Of Geography Quote From Hanif Abdurraqib in question for everyone’s reference:

anger is a type of geography. the ways out of it expand the more you love a person. the more forgiveness you might be willing to afford each other opens up new and unexpected roads. and so, for some, staying angry at someone you love is a reasonable option. to stay angry at someone you know will forgive your anger is a type of love, or at least it is a type of familiarity that can feel like love.

like, yeah sure what with winston originally talking to lauren and mafee about this and taylor Happening to walk in on it, he probably wasn’t necessarily planning to go off on his Indignant Monologue to taylor right then and there, but the fact remains that he was willing to do so, and i definitely think that that wouldn’t be the case if he didn’t have this Respect for them and think that they have respect for him in turn, and if he didn’t also think that that mutual respect is holding hands with mutually valuing each other. like, he wouldn’t say it if he didn’t think taylor might actually listen / consider what he says, and he wouldn’t even Want to say it if he didn’t give a shit about them, because he’s not just complaining about “um i simply ask for more money,” it’s about the fact he Feels Disrespected by the implied deprioritization of tmc employees and that the way this (false lol) choice is presented to them being Unfair and disingenuous. like, you could (and im sure most viewers do) interpret the other stuff he says as just him backing up his “Pay Me” argument when all he really cares about is the Pay Me part, but a) that’s not how We roll and b) doesn’t make sense with winston being just as happy as anyone else in 4x12with taylor Apologizing re: many of these 4x11 points, despite them not saying they were gonna change the Bonus situation lol, and c) it Does make sense to think that the Mutual Respect between taylor and winston matters to him due to [see: the rest of this post]

well wait lol first of all yeah sure the money Must matter to him b/c nobody could possibly be in the world of High Finance as a passion project (except for taylor apparently lmao cuz i mean we know that the Real reason they are determined to stick with hedge fundery (and involved in the first place) is b/c they are the best part of the show and elevate all the other Lesser Elements of it as well) and also we can figure that this was probably winston’s first year working a Big Time Official Job and he doesn’t have the savings that other ppl might when they’ve been in the business multiple years, and this seems to be backed up by lauren referring to him as they guy who’d be the First One Smothered by either taking a bonus cut by 40% or not getting that bonus at all until a whole other year, which, like he seems to also imply, is also Unhelpful in that surely these investment finance people turn around and invest their own finances, and Bonus Now is better than Bonus Then b/c.....interest....Long Shares.......and also just like tfw you want your job to pay you.......but anyways Seriously [next paragraph]

cuz winston *must* be working at Taylor Mason Capital b/c he really values working with taylor more than, say, wanting a job that will make him the most money, or will necessarily look the best on a resumé if he’s just looking to up his stats, b/c yeah, this is sure an unlikely opportunity for him where this is what we’re assuming is his First Fancy Job and he’s getting to be the Top Quant right out of the gate, but he must also know that like, it’s still like “oh so you were head quant at a brand new fund :/” and also he must know that there’s a Risk with said fund and he might even end up having been head quant at a new fund that burned out really quick, super impressive........and, we Know that winston *knows* how good he is at what he does, even though he keeps getting dunked on for that like he’s sooo conceited lol like. he IS that good, sorry!!!! why should he downplay it, we don’t actually see him being one of these shitheads with a fragile ego trying to prove themselves Superior or whatever.....ANYWAYS yeah the point being that, winston claiming to have a lot of offers already in the interview might very well Not be any kind of bluff, and he’d surely know that he could rise through the Quant Ranks quickly enough at some other fund even if he started out as anything but Our Main Quant at those places.......and if Getting Tf Paid Top Dollar was really his primary concern, “go with the brand new hedge fund which doesn’t have Established History / Experience / Clout and has the one big investor but who knows what’ll come next and any business that Just opened is not your safest bet even if you trust in your own skill and in that of your ceo and you Know that even if you’re not immediately destroyed, funds will be tighter / of a Lesser Amount than at a bigger established fund”.........the now-dramatic-irony of him talking about how those Tech Firms Out West pay guarantees, not bonuses.........like, when he was trying to get onboard with axe cap, he was obvs interested in trying to leverage to get Paid more, which is like, not necessarily winston wanting to be a trillionaire but also just how stupidly everyone’s supposed to like Play The Game of negotiating / leveraging / calling your employer’s bluff to get a certain starting salary / get a raise or whatever, dumb as hell baked-in Requirement........discuss your wages with coworkers gang!!! anyways. and but Also winston makes it clear when interviewing for axe cap that Working With Taylor Mason has appeal, even if he’s flippant about it, cuz he’s flippant about all of it cuz that’s his shtick here.....

like, when it’s Taylor Alone who calls him back eventually, he’s fine with meeting up with Just Them, and later on meeting up with Just Them (and the other quants, rip) again, and agrees to work in this lil basement evidently Not on axe cap premises b/c he’d been at axe cap’s offices and this is Not That Place......and yeah him talking about taylor selling axe on using his algorithm in kompenso sure implies that winston has this whole time Assumed that all of this was still ultimately in the service of axe cap.......and he was apparently fine with reporting to Taylor Alone and not getting to rub elbows with any other higher-ups, and he’s obviously pleased well enough with a “good work :)” from taylor and isn’t like “hey be sure to tell axe & co i did this singlehandedly etc” or anything, and he’s not really complaining about the whole “work in this lil basement Not at axe cap hq with taylor mason dropping in at least once to check on you and that’s about it” situation, which obviously is hardly that “You’re A Valued Axe Cap Employee” treatment one might expect if they wanted that.....winston’s glad that taylor called him, he’s trying to appeal to them and what *they* want to see rather than how he tried to go for what he thinks [a place like axe cap] would wanna see like he did in the interview, he’s showing up at this weird basement rendezvous to be on a 3 person quant team of taylor’s, he’s fine to not only do this on his own but also accept those increased demands that make it a [fifty(? or 15, either way) phds would work on this]-Level task, and then he’s glad just to have taylor’s approval at the end of the day.......they Wouldn’t have been able to promise him any leverage of “please do your best work on this” with like, promotions / clout within axe cap or axe-cap-levels of Lots Of Payment b/c like, well taylor wouldn’t outright lie anyways but also Especially wouldn’t if they wanted to keep this quant around for tmc, so winston must never have been asking about that kind of thing

and then, bless your Missing Scene fic but there’s zero canon content re: “uh how/when did taylor break it to winston that this algorithm was for their own fund actually and btw do you want to work for that fund instead,” but presumably it went smoothly enough, he was already happy to Effectively work for them alone apparently even if he still thought that yeah, he was working for taylor who was working for axe........just Yeah altogether it’s evident that “Working With Taylor Mason” must matter more to him than “working with any Other big name financiers” or “getting paid as much as he can get” or “raking in that clout asap to leverage with Other jobs or just like, in general.”

and then of course you have the fact that taylor is Recognizing his ability by calling him back and offering him this job, going “despite your demeanor your skills are superior” and “those other two were sweet, but you’re more talented, i need you,” [praying hands emoji], and giving him this Second Chance and entrusting him with this Solo re: building this algorithm which, unbeknownst at the time to him, is really this linchpin of their hopes & dreams of launching their own secret fund here, and really they must’ve been planning from the start to keep him around if he succeeded b/c it’s not like the algorithm and their whole planned Quant Department wouldn’t continue to be integral to the fund’s success, it wouldn’t really be ideal to have this guy be the one to build an algorithm to reel in an investor who’s working in.....wait for it......billions of dollars here, and then be like, okay bye dude. they must Know how good he is same as winston knows how good he is, and him being Head Quant from the very start was surely never just about mase cap having precious few employees at the very start of things....they could’ve like given him that Lead Position temporarily or whatever, they’re ceo. but they really do value him as like, maybe he doesn’t have the ideal ~personality~ for what fucking ever, either for being Properly Assertive and Impressively Flashy like axe cap might want, or just easy to work with, which taylor would care more about than axe cap would lol, but yknow, they value his Abilities and surely they must also value his efforts re: I Promise To Try and re: his really singlehandedly making that brilliant amazing algorithm which evidently did the trick as they hoped it would

and then......dare i get to the Emotional part of things, the Interpersonal....the anger and the love...............

i mean already when winnie n tay are having their post-math-meetup meetup, aka the first time they’re meeting After their disastrous really-first meeting aka the Interview, you have winston taking a way more grounded approach to this “yeah i want to work for you please accept me” process which is obviously in response to what he thinks Taylor wants from him based on the mess of the interview, evident thanks to winston telling them that he’s been thinking about all of that.......and i mean, part of taylor’s whole thing is they have that grounded approach pretty much always lol, (or try to....Want to...), but they sure seem to Also be bringing this effort to Accommodate him based on the hot mess of the interview, wherein yeah they wouldn’t’ve expected to have to ever interact again with this person they were dunking into the trash (and of course from that Meta Perspective, the scene when originally written was meant to be winston’s only appearance ever), but they really seem to also be bringing a more dialed down approach, letting him talk first and going along with his “you ever done math meetup” intro until he’s the one who changes the subject, and i really see that Head Tilt as a sympathetic one lol, not necessarily like “awww :’0″ levels lmao but still like. they Know he’s likely to have some [emotional vulnerability] re: what last went down between them since they weren’t especially gentle with him then, and they like, demonstrably give a shit about that fact lol. they’re also not just wholly swinging in the other direction to make up for it or anything lol but they’re Also making it clear that, yknow, they’re willing to work with him For Real, not just in this “are you willing to work for me, y/n, okay great” way, but in this way of [winston making an effort to make things easier on taylor] and [taylor making an effort to make things easier on winston] which is already playing out here between them.

and the whole matter of winston’s seemingly genuine Dismay at messing up even part of this exchange, i.e. the “[wince-ston] damn it, sorry,” like, sure maybe he just really wants the job, but [see: everything above about how he Must primarily want to work with taylor re: wanting any of these jobs lol] and, after all, he “oh shit, sorry”s @ them when he’s well-established as their Head Quant in ep 4x08 and generally shows this directed-at-self displeasure at thinking he’s messed something up even without some clear “your (potential) job is on the line” element......he just Doesn’t Want To Disappoint Taylor Themself, doesn’t need some particular fear of further repercussion behind that.

and speaking of Lack Of Fear, you Know we love to point out how kompenso (and really winston’s :/ + “sure, why not :\”ness at the end of 3x09 lol) demonstrates that winston isn’t afraid of taylor either as an [intense and unusually-demeanor'd person who Does apparently strike people as Scary(tm) sometimes lol] or as this Esteemed Rising Star Axe Cap Higher-Up or simply as his de facto boss.........he’s not raring to tell them that the other quants bailed b/c of his own disapproval lol, but he’s honest as soon as they deduce as much, the tone of “fine, yes, big time” + his standing up to get even closer to them instead of just shaking in his desk chair like :c pls forgive me obviously does Not convey that he’s terrified of them, and then the rest of that interaction jsut being like, ugh god so fucking essential, they’re both able to stand face to face and be like I Am Looking Directly At It / I Do See It re: each other, both of them just continuing to be Honest and Direct with each other, God.....taylor might’ve swatted his metaphor away but he was not all that put out, and then they’re Using His Own Language by bringing it back three seconds later, like, yeah sure at this point they have a vested interest in this individual quant (the only one left lol) accepting this Demanding Task, but a) they’re not exactly playing it cool on that front, they Just said “i need You,” it’s unlikely that this is just some all manipulative tactic here by encouraging his metaphor after all lol and that’s hardly their style anyways even if they Can be strategic(tm) about things, and b) they’ve Just Previously adopted his own words lol with winston having said “as for not being a dick” and taylor saying “you backslid into being a dick” (combining His Phrasing with Theirs aka “if you promise not to backslide”....god!!!!!!)

and so then yeah to top it all off winston even ~pushes his luck~ lol by being a lil deliberately rude re: his ex-coworkers lmaoo, and you get taylor’s Reaction to being sort of tested here to be Closing Off Their Expression (speaking of....their tiny lil Eyebrow Twitch when winston infers that he’s making something to pitch to an investor.....god!!!!!! a) winnie n tay and b) emmy) and making it clear that their interest in him acting Easy To Work With was a practical matter......winston watching them go up the stairs, taylor looking back at him as they Ascend and he gets back to his desk.....jesus

the point being!!! they vibe with each other so well by Kompenso already and just *get* how the other operates and communicates and Neither Of Them are offput by the other, Neither Of Them are unwilling or uninterested in meeting each other where they’re at, and each exerting this effort to really work with each other........and how winston is Not intimidated by taylor as either someone who’s so ~weird~ and can be so Intense, or as someone who is his boss lol........which yknow we always also point out as Important re: tayston developing from this point, where taylor would be careful in how they approach winston about fwbship but would feel like it was even reasonable to consider it in the first place thanks to not having to feel like oh he definitely wouldn’t feel comfortable being honest if he wanted to say no / wasn’t sure

also Yeah It’s Billions but winston freely swearing with the F-word when they’re assessing the completed algorithm, which taylor has no reaction to lol.......the both of them being Hyped about this algorithm lol, like, Of Course they’d both be, but it’s fun :)

and then 4x03, with winston not acting terrified about there being potential Algorithm Problems, and taylor making sure to be like “don’t you dare blame latency” lol like which obv he May Have been planning to mention lol since he’s intending to give this technical answer rather than throwing out his Front Running / Interference Theory like mafee then does.....fun little moment too anyways.......taylor Allowing winston’s tangent about being cassandra and emails and “it’s pronounced owned,” like, they’re not raring to Interrupt / cut him off even if it’s Not obvious what he has to say is absolutely crucial and considered relevant by everyone else, and they’re not telling him he’s a stupid idiot and wasting their time or anything else before sending him away.......imagine. and just think about the beauty of winston very intently / earnestly saying his “i’m cassandra: Always Seeing The Future” right to taylor.

and in 4x08 they build on his metaphor Again after having just Validated him despite everyone else really wanting to do the opposite lol......i “lol” but would everyone else lay off a little Lol......his self-reproach upon Registering that disapproval / oh-no-i’ve-messed-upness again.......then despite winston Standing Right Beside and then Sitting Right Behind taylor they don’t really interact l o l .....we have taylor being all “why is He so happy” and silently observing his Solo “i won” moment, rip, but also congrats.....and then i suppose that covers the Prior To 4x11 stuff lol

just......even re: the relative little we’ve Seen between them up to that point, winston might not have intended to talk to taylor right then, and he might or might not have intended to eventually talk to them in front of anyone else, but You Know He Knows that taylor listens to him, and that he doesn’t have to like, say things in what other people think is The Right And Effective Way to talk (even by billions’s fucking off the shits standards on that front lol), because taylor Does care about what he actually means and what his actual intentions are, not just “oh that very direct/honest thing you said Seemed rude whether you intended it or not”.......the “sad” after his yngwie malmsteen metaphor was the only time they’ve critiqued something like that lol and they then used that metaphor, So, and they’ve copied him calling himself a dick lol, and they built on his Sword metaphor, and they’ve just always been interested in Understanding him and communicating effectively with him, not in trying to get him to communicate differently or just making sure he knows He Should Feel Bad about how he Does communicate, though god knows the latter is something that everyone else seems to be somewhat #about. god knows some axe capper would have that “are you finished?” simply be the Purely Rhetorical intro to their barrage of Dunking-Upon insults, although it sure seems possible that that could’ve been sort of gently dismissive enough anyways to Encourage winston to not be finished even if maybe he would’ve stopped there otherwise.....but everyone else follows taylor’s lead in Not Actually Interrupting Him at any point, despite all the 9_9 and >:| as it were, and like, even though taylor then lets this whole thing end just with mafee going tf off on winston and bullying him into deferring and would-be deference, b/c winston might have this amount of moxie and he might be honest and he might not be scared of taylor (or anyone else here really) but he’s obviously not that assertive and definitely not that aggressive, he’s self-loathing, he’s easily put out, and all of this just bolsters how much it means that he communicates so well with taylor, b/c they’re Not interested in anything that would be counterproductive to actual effective communication but which might be “productive” if they had a goal of wanting to twist his arm about anything or pressure him into acting a certain way or just fueling their own ego or sense of superiority, axe cap style. they Value all his actual input and they have this respect for him where they don’t Want to bully him even if it’s not that difficult, like, yeah mafee was being mean to him for sure and trying to insult him into simply shutting tf up rather than like, actually responding to any of his points or doing anything but reinforcing them, but also winston has been Put Out by milder [negative responses] too, it’s of course more than just “i respect you too much to like, yell at you and try to diminish you”

and Frankly Winston Was Right and he may have been Indignant and he may not have been ~polite~ about it (though like, relative to how he is generally this Direct And Honest, there’s also not all that much evidence he’s deliberately trying to add some extra servings of Rudeness or anything) but once again like with the “as for not being a dick, i can’t absolute guarantee it” moment and the “fine, yes, big time” moment, and the “im sure it’ll go faster without the dead weight; Whoops ;)” moment, and the [talking about the algorithm problems] moment, and him freely jumping in with the “this plan might get us killed (not literally)” and “it’s b/c it sucks that they had to decapitate their dad, also not literally lol....although...” remarks, he’s just like, never afraid to tell taylor something that sure might not be the most pleasant for them to hear, and sure might not be something they Want to hear. and what’s Honest is that he’s Angry about this, and they won’t want to hear that and that they will even less want to hear his Honest Thoughts about why this is unfair, but he’s willing to say that to them, and even though we were like “haha boy winston if this isn’t fixed big time you might wanna quit :/” it’s also like, he must’ve trusted them to not wanna just fire him for lack of reverence to his ceo, and we can Juxtapose this with a) the scene that we’re set up to juxtapose it with, wherein a group of axe cappers carefully tell axe he’s being dumb as hell and might fuck all of them over, and axe tells them all to shut the fuck up b/c He Is Their Sun and he can do what he wants and get the fuck out of here, and we can also juxtapose it with b) winston being jumped on immediately in The Interview for ~lack of reverence~ to the potential employer, putting on this cocksure hotshot act (trying to..) and daring to express confidence in himself and be like “i should be interviewing you” / you should be selling to Me lol......jump to 4x11 and winston is caught off guard, he’s not putting on any kind of act, he’s not trying to appeal to anyone, sure mafee might turn it around on his [last we checked, the quant hates himself]ness, but this wasn’t about Winston Lashing Out b/c he’s angry at himself, he’s angry at Them for not valuing him, for what he perceives as them not even *really* giving them the option of the 60% Now approach, which sure seems to be justified seeing as apparently nobody but lauren goes for it and after winston invokes the Peer Pressure / pressure to seem Loyal / Committed by deferring, mafee immediately uses that [social pressure] to crush his dissent........where was i. right like. winston’s truly just Mad At Someone Else this time, he wouldn’t be here if his self-esteem was so low that he was immediately ready to just accept and absorb this treatment, and he Knows that taylor will actually listen to him which is their fuckin Mutual Respect thing and who tf else does that for him all the time, and he knows that taylor doesn’t value their own ego above everything else Unlike Some People, and he knows that he can be honest and get an honest reaction and that their honest reaction to his honesty is not “ugh you’re stupid / annoying / rude / etc,” b/c he’s Not, and that might be everyone else’s idea of him to some degree, but taylor Gets him better than that

and then you don’t quite have taylor being obviously Angry back, but they’re not exactly thrilled, and letting mafee go off on winston / effectively telling him they expect him to consider That the response and in turn respond back to that, can sure be interpreted as an expression of something a little short of pure goodwill and best intentions towards him here lol......again, i lol through the pain.......winston only has further reason to be angry, his Complaints weren’t resolved in the least and he came in all “i feel disrespected” and surely that’s only been doubled down on, b/c this isn’t Just “pay me goddamnit,” it’s really also just about the fundamental respect itself, which he figured that taylor cares about too, and so this would be something he could appeal to / expect them to earnestly.....he feels like none of them are being valued more than this feud with axe cap, he (maybe) feels like said feud is causing the quants’ work to be deprioritized in favor of more elaborate schemes based on “what will screw axe over specifically,” he feels like he’s not being valued as a Very Important Employee, he feels like this False Choice thanks to Social Pressure is insult to injury, like they’re not supposed to get a real chance to question this. boy i’m really just going off talking about any and all aspects of this huh, where’s the Anger Geography core here

well here it is: winston doesn’t ever talk to taylor in any more Filtered way due to them being his boss / him feeling a need to be more careful around them, if anything, they’re the one person he can be Least filtered around, b/c they care about What He Actually Means and aren’t all hung up on whether his communication style seems gratingly weird / wrong / offputting. winston isn’t bringing any particular leverage to this situation, yeah sure he pointed out He’s Valuable but he also did that in the interview with even less leverage and in the basement when he thought he was just working on some weird side project for axe cap in this remote quant dungeon - he’s counting on them to just Listen To Him and care about what he means, same as he always does and like they’ve done thus far. and he’s Temporarily Burned by this, which is tragic, but then 4x12 happens, and who knows if taylor and winston talked between these scenes at all cuz billions sure won’t say at all, but either way winston sure seems to pick up on the fact that taylor is responding to his Complaints here, the implication they were taking a too-axe-esque approach to them now answered by taylor deliberately differentiating themself from axe, and asserting that they Do value their employees and their contributions, and that taylor has this responsibility to them, and maybe Had gone astray there with the revenge jag but aren’t actually interested in that being the core of everything.........winston is Validated and we realize it and he seems to realize it lol, he definitely Was listened to, and he sure wasn’t like fired or anything, he Could Be Angry with them and that wasn’t going to lead to taylor wanting to sever even the Professional relationship or anything like that. sure seems to be no grudge held between them during the “q is for quantitative, babey” scene there lol and yeah it’s billions and shit moves fast / people will roll with A Lot of mistreatment apparently (see: winston also does not seem to harbor any grudge against mafee here lol but who knows) but the Fact Is, here they are, having found A Way Out Of [Anger], after having had this altercation which wouldn’t even have been possible if Winston hadn’t felt it was possible for them to interact like this, for him to be mad and be honest about that anger and the hows and whys of it and for that Not to be a dead end between them or something that could shatter the relationship entirely. and he was Validated!!!!

and guess who i also love to quote and paraphrase lol i also think of mariame kaba talking about interpersonal Conflict being possible Opportunities in a relationship, because working through said conflict can allow the relationship to grow / deepen / strengthen. which sure seems to Hold Hands with this idea: that you can Be Angry with someone because you already know that won’t break the relationship, and that even if you don’t already know that, going through that experience / process of Being Angry with someone and coming out the other side together will show that the relationship can handle that / will have involved gaining tools to be able to handle that going forward. and really like, we’ve seen winston Forgive taylor’s anger at him right off, and that may not be the sweeping heights of love but it came from Understanding (and....low self-es steam probably lol) but no really, he Shows that he understands why they reacted like that by behaving in this way that he figures is more in line with what they actually want, just talking and being direct with no boxes or [wags] or standard boring interview questions or posturing, showing he’s willing to work with them in the “please hire me” and “i’ll try to Behave” ways lol........and taylor is offering their own patience and sympathy and restraint and Understanding and willingness to bend.......things are happening on an emotional plane between them here.

and then after winston chooses to be on board with mase cap, and after he’s worked for them so long that it’s comp time baby, and after these few Sample Interactions we’ve seen in which taylor doesn’t cut winston down or show contempt for him and they continue to directly or indirectly validate him, winston can be Angry with them and taylor can (definitely Sorta) be Angry back, and winston surely even Stayed Angry after that scene in 4x11, and he didn’t quit, and was that [terrible self-esteem actually lol] or was it him believing that there could be a way out of this state of anger between him and taylor? both?? we get to decide!! b/c he’s sure not Validated and Vindicated until later lol.....what does he sit there on that couch alone in that room and Think in those moments...........and then once things Are better resolved, they have this whole [episode of conflict] in their history, and like is the whole Point of all of this, that’s hardly necessarily just some awful and unfortunate thing.......their relationship can survive something like that, and the conflict sure sparked this kind of Genuine Interaction between them which couldn’t have happened if winston just shied away from all this / kept it to himself because he didn’t think taylor would Listen or Care or Understand.

and it’s Not Just About The Money, and even when he expresses that he’s upset about this perceived disrespect / not being valued as an employee, we Know that he’s not someone who’s got this need to feel superior to everybody else / like he’s always Winning, and we know he’s not after Maximum Clout, but he does want to Work With taylor and he evidently wants to feel valued By Them, who does happen to be his boss and does have this avenue to potentially treat any employees unfairly. and we know that winston *knows* in this objective way how good his work is, and both winston and taylor have acknowledged that yeah, His Work / professional quantly ablities have value, so winston Knows he should expect for that to be valued in the form of “your quantributions are important and you’re getting paid to reflect that”........and that he feels like he’s for once not being Allowed Honesty re: everyone supposedly being pressured into deferring is like..........what do he and taylor have if not earnest, open communication b/c they both value and respect what the other Really Has To Say!!!!!! that’s winnie n tay and it’s also tayston.

which, speaking of which, Sidenote: when it comes to tayston hcs we generally have this as a “they’re not currently doing Their Thing at this point anyways, and maybe the fact that that’s been ended (and they Haven’t been talking through this particular conflict yet) is adding to the tension / anger / feeling of not being valued hahaha rip” deal lol, but also if they Were still currently in their fwb/[???]ship like obviously this would spill over and probably require an at-least-temporary halt to give everyone some space seeing as it’d be a little impossible to truly completely Set That Aside in the recent aftermath l o l ......but despite the lingering tension / awkwardness that would be present whenever they Do next meetup [imagine: an I Was On The Phone With You, Sweetheart phonecall prior to 4x12′s scene?? wrow] the layers to that ensuing sex lol......reunion sex? makeup sex? not-hate-sex-but-maybe-still-needing-to-vent-a-lil-Emotional-frustration-maybe sex? maybe all of the above and more

ANYWAYS even i don’t know why this is so long, and also it’s 7am. i definitely think that winston trusted taylor and the Relationship between them to be able to handle Anger (his, for once, lol) and for that Anger to even potentially be something Constructive. and he was right. and in 4x12 he’s there with them at the very end, wearing the tmc logo, standing behind them in the hellhole which is axe cap hq, knowing that taylor is the one person (here, certainly) who definitely Gets and who’s Got him, who’s asserted this loyalty and commitment to him after he’s certainly done that re: them, and once again winston definitely has this Choice to be here with them just like he must’ve had that choice to join up with their fund in the first place, he’s never been trapped with them or forced into alliance with them, and we just Know that he’s not choosing to be here just for Linkedin reasons / what’s best for career advancement and/or for raking it in as best as he can manage and/or for gaining clout and status or whatever, and we sure never see him reaping some kind of deluxe treatment/benefits just for being closely associated with taylor / having their approval. everything we see points to winston caring most about what happens between him and taylor and that he gets to work with them and that he’s here because of that mutual respect and value for each other.

and really, the show also repeatedly tells us that winston Does basically have these world-class abilities and *is* that valuable, and we know that winston Knows how good he is, and he must’ve legitimately had all those offers and known that he’s really good enough that these places Should compete for him. he must’ve known that he has this Potential here and all of these options laid out in front of him, and he takes taylor’s call and shows up in a basement for them and singlehandedly writes an algorithm good enough to found their fund upon and he follows them there when now he’s got this Proof of just how incredible his work is and could’ve leveraged that anywhere else. but his relationship with taylor has always had this personal aspect to it and the fact is that, even with his choice of Paths laid out in front of him, he chose and keeps choosing the geography of winnie n tay. Love. thank you and goodnight

#time to attempt a nap!!!! Them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#winston billions #tayston #nothingunrealistic1

6 notes · View notes