#we ARE all in agreement that ben was confessing. RIGHT?

[dribs-and-drabbles]

You mean to tell me that we got NO resolution of Ben and Chopper's conversation by the pool AND NOT EVEN ONE SECOND of them in the trailer for next week?!?!

[mmhcs]

Say It With Your Chest

Warnings: None, maybe an emotionally constipated Miguel if that's not your thing

"Why don't you just confess?"

Miguel O'Hara shakes his head for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

Ay coño, how did he get here? he silently wonders, looking at Peter B. alongside quite literally the entire Spider Society—save for you—squeezed into his office.

It all started at around noon when Peter B. had walked up into his office both unceremoniously and unannounced. Today, he was without his daughter Mayday, making his steps quieter than they had been in the past few months. Unlike most days when he would call out for his (self-proclaimed) best buddy, this time Peter B. simply waited to be acknowledged, seeing that Miguel was in the middle of a squabble with Lyla.

"...Miguel, why don't you just say something?" she asked rather concerned. "The worst that could happen is that you get shot down. But if that happens then it just means that you're one step closer to finding The One."

The One?

Peter's eyebrow quirked upwards in curiosity and interest.

For as long as he's known Miguel O'Hara, Peter had never heard Miguel discuss dating, marriage, or anything romotely related to the realm of romance for that matter.

But now—now Miguel possibly had a crush? Someone who he was interested in and, judging by Lyla's words, wanted to pursue?

Peter had to know more.

But just as he opened his mouth to chime in, Miguel spoke.

"Lyla, please," he said, waving his hand as if to shoo her away. "We don't need to discuss this."

"But we do!" Lyla exclaimed, throwing her arms up the air. "Miguel, this could be the start of something. Who knows? Maybe one day you two will get married, have some children—"

"Lyla!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Lyla said, this time truly apologetic.

Miguel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please, Lyla, this—whatever this is—" he spread his arms, gesturing to something that wasn't there "—doesn't matter. It will go away in a few weeks, give or take and—"

"But it's been months! Almost a year!"

Almost a year?

Okay, now Peter really had know more about this little crush of Miguel’s.

"Lyla!" Miguel sighed again. "(Y/N)—how am I supposed to talk to someone who barely shows up at HQ? It's not like I have much wiggle room here,"

"But you do have a best friend who is friends with (Y/N) and as of today has a burning desire to see you two together!" Peter finally spoke up.

From there, Miguel’s day went downhill. At first, it was just Peter. Which, though not ideal, was fine. But then Jess came in and after her Ben Reilly, then Miles, Gwen, Hobie, and Pavitr...And then before Miguel knew it, quite literally the entire Spider Society was in his lab, talking over one another as they shouted useless love advice.

Except you.

It always irked Miguel that you preferred to limit your time at HQ as much as possible. But today—today he couldn't be more grateful for your choice.

"Hey, what's going on in here?"

He spoke too soon.

The entire room goes silent and every Spider including Miguel turns to face you.

"Uh...hi?" You give a sheepish wave of your hand.

"(Y/N)!" Peter exclaims. "So great to see you!"

Miguel winces at how overtly friendly Peter is being right now. If he's behaving like this then he can only imagine how the other Spiders will act.

"It's great to see you too, Peter," you say, glancing around. There are so many Spiders in here. Some of them you haven't even spoken to before. "And everybody. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting—or should have been here. I don't know. I just dropped by to ask about my schedule for this week."

"Oh, your schedule?" Peter's mouth shifts to one side of his face as he puts a hand on his chin. "Hmm, well, while I personally don't know anything about that, I think you should ask my pal Miguel."

"Okay..."

All the eyes in the room fell back to Miguel like dominoes. Hums of agreement with Peter's sentiments begin to echo throughout the room.

"So, about my schedule..." you say once you are face-to-face with Miguel.

You glance around between every sentence or two, seemingly painfully aware of how crowded the room is and how many people are eagerly watching your interaction. It causes something to stir within Miguel, seeing you so uncomfortable and nervous.

"...I will email you your schedule again," Miguels explains, trying to act as normal as possible. "I did before but it seems that something hasn't went through properly. For now, you have nothing scheduled, though. You can go home and relax."

Miguel swears that he hears a few awwws from the masses.

"As for the rest of you," he begins, now addressing the hoards of unwelcome visitors. He's let this go on for far longer than it should have. "I am certain that at least two quarters of you have some type of assignment to do. I suggest that you all stop dilly-dallying and get back to work because though you do not have paychecks, you will have to work late tonight if everything isn't finished at the appropriate time."

There is a collective groan amongst all the Spiders as the door opens and they begin to file out of Miguel’s office. You stifle a giggle at the pairs of sad yet uneven eyes you see.

Before Peter leaves, he turns to you two and gives Miguel two thumbs up that you imagine to be directed at Miguel. He is Peter's best buddy after all.

"Was there an impromptu meeting that I wasn't told about?" you ask, turning to face Miguel as soon as you two are alone.

Though this is technically not a job and you do prefer to be in your own universe rather than at HQ, you still wanted to fulfill your duties and be a committed member to the team.

"No, there was no meeting," Miguel reassures you as he turns away and begins walking to his platform. "There was a...matter that the others found particularly interesting. It was all Peter's idea, really."

Judging by the annoyance in his voice, you think that you should be glad that you missed whatever transpired earlier.

"Oh, okay then," You nod. "If I'm not needed then I'll be returning to my universe for the rest of the day. Goodbye, Miguel. Goodbye, Lyla."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day you and Peter B. are strolling through the cafeteria of the Spider Society, munching on empanadas.

You occasionally glance down at his once again empty baby carrier—Mayday was upstate, attending the birthday party of her maternal cousins, Peter explained earlier—finding it abnormal to see him without the young girl that the entire Spider Society has grown to love.

"So, what was so interesting that everyone had to gather in Miguel's office to discuss yesterday?" you ask.

You often felt like you came in to HQ at the wrong times. Always after something happens. You were rarely ever there to be apart of the moment and often had to resort to asking your friends to fill you in. And normally that sufficed. But this time—whatever it was that had happened yesterday obviously had HQ in a chokehold.

"Oh, what, yesterday?" Peter scoffed, waving a shaky hand. "Oh please, yesterday; who even talks about the past like that? Today is tomorrow's yesterday."

"Come on, Peter!" you whine, slightly nudging him. "I know it has something to do with Miguel. Everyone has been talking about how weird he was acting yesterday before I came in—What was it? Is he okay?"

"Okay? Miguel is more than okay," Peter laughs. "He's fine. Really fine actually, don't you think?"

"Uh-huh..." You nod, not knowing how to respond to that last comment. You've grown to learn that a part of Miguel and Peter's friendship also included not-so-subtle innuendos from Peter.

"Don't worry about him—he's great. Fantastic. Nothing wrong with him. Or nothing more than the usual at least."

You know Peter is lying. But what you don't know is why.

Normally, Peter B. Parker is an open book. He'll tell you about Mayday's gassiness, show you a picture he took of a thing that he thought was cool, tell you about all of his favorite sports teams, or how he and MJ finally got a night to themselves and how amazing it was. Nothing is a secret with this man.

Until now.

It makes your curiosity double.

"Peter..." you start, trying to put on your best set of puppy dog eyes. "Come on, just tell me. You said that Miguel is fine—is it something embarrassing? You don't have to tell me if it is but I just—everyone is talking about it. You can't even get through the coffee line without being asked about 'it'."

Peter's nervous expression softens into a frown for a second.

He feels bad. Really, really bad.

On the one hand, he wants to tell you. He really does. He doesn't like it when others feel left out. Especially you. You're not known to frequent HQ unlike so many other Spiders and he knows how much that affects your social status amongst the rest.

But on the other hand, he can't tell you. Because it's Miguel's secret. Probably one of the deepest, most darkest ones he's had in a long time. What kind of best friend would Peter be if he told you?

It's already bad enough that the rest of the Spider Society knows. They've been teasing the poor guy to no end about his crush on you.

Peter bites down on his lip. Oh, the woes of being so friendly and trusted.

"Hey guys, what’s going on?" Gwen Stacy waves at the two of you.

Behind her is Hobie, Miles, and Pavitr who give you and Peter their own forms of greeting as well.

"Gwen," you say almost desperately and Peter gets nervous. He looks at all four of the kids, silently begging them to keep quiet.

"Do you know what happened yesterday with Miguel? Everyone's been talking about it all day and I feel like if one more person says something about whatever it is, my brain is going to explode."

Now Gwen seems to have been bitten by the same nervous bug that Peter was when you asked him previously.

Her eyes widen and she begins looking at everything but you.

"Oh, that?" she laughs nervously. "That was nothing. You know how everyone likes to rag on Miguel. Right, guys?"

The only one who backs her up is Miles. And his response does more damage as he says, "Who's Miguel?"

You sigh, facepalming.

"Hobie, you'll tell me, right?" you half-ask, half-plea.

"Sorry, mate," Hobie shrugs, a smirk on his face. "Information's kind of classified."

Okay, now you really want to know what happened yesterday. Not even Hobie will tell you? Something monumental must have happened yesterday.

Still desperate, you turn your gaze to Pavitr who immediately tenses.

"Don't look at me!" he says, frantically waving his hands in front of his chest. "I don't know anything!"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day after next, you find yourself standing outside of Miguel’s office.

Though Miguel promised that he would resend you your schedule for the week, you have yet to receive it. And it's already Thursday. You don't even want to think about how many assignments you've missed. You'll probably have to stay late next week, so much so that you may even catch a glimpse of the mythical "zombie Miguel" that spends the night at HQ and only comes out of his office for coffee.

Or so you've heard from other Spiders.

You knock on the door once before entering.

"Miguel?" you say both in greeting and question. "I wanted to talk to you about my schedule; I've still yet to receive it and—"

"Leave."

You stop dead in your tracks. Once again, you've heard about the infamous "moody Miguel" but you've yet to encounter him.

"Did you hear what I said? Leave and I'll make sure that I get to it as soon as I can. I'm busy right now."

You look up and see Miguel focused on his screens, typing away.

A bit of relief flows through your body. Miguel isn't in a bad mood; he's focused. Probably doing something very tedious and imperative to the Multiverse's ensurance—

"(Y/N)?" Now Miguel has looked up from his screen and his eyes are on you, studying you intently. "You still didn't get your schedule yet? I've emailed that to you about a thousand times now."

"You have?" you frown, checking your watch. You haven’t gotten anything from him.

"Yes, is there something wrong with your watch?"

With a wave of Miguel's hand, the screens disappear.

"I don't know," you say, staring down at your wrist. "Maybe there's an update or two that I missed? Whatever it is, don't worry about it. If could please just tell me what I have assigned, I'll be out of your hair in two seconds."

"You can't leave," Miguel tells you with a sterness that makes your heart jump a little. He must see the fear in your eyes because he softens then explains, "I think that there's something wrong with your watch. You can't leave until I at least inspect it. Walking around with a damaged watch could have consequences that I think we would both like to not deal with. You can put on a day pass and chat with Lyla in the meantime."

"Are you sure?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm sure," Miguel says as Lyla silently flickers into existence, a day pass in her hand. "I know I told you to leave earlier but that was just because I thought that you were another Spider. I...I've been trying to avoid them all week."

"Is this about your..." you trail off, not wanting to breach the subject.

Miguel's eyes widen. He feels his heart rate pick up and his limbs freeze in place.

"It's okay, I don't know anything!" you quickly reassure him. "Not a single soul would tell me today! Not Peter, not Hobie—and believe you me, I tried to get them to."

A little smile creeps onto Miguel's face at that. Maybe some people can keep a secret.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter B. Parker is estatic. Proud. Elated. Overjoyed.

Over the past few weeks, you and Miguel have been spending more time together. And that could only mean one thing. That Miguel finally confessed his feelings for you and that you two were dating. Or at least seeing where things go.

And Peter couldn't be happier for the two of you.

Yes, he does miss having his best buddy (you, of course) to sit and devour cafeteria food with but he understands what it's like to be in that honeymoon phase with your partner where all you want to do is be around them.

He sees the way that Miguel smiles at you when you're not looking, how a look of absolute and utter softness overtakes his features each time he glances at you. Peter gets it. And he's happy to see his bestest pal in the whole Multiverse finally get the love that he deserves.

"Hey, Peter!" you call from down the hall.

"Well, well, well, look who it is," Peter crossed his arms and pops a hip to mimic a sassy pose. "You finally got a chance to come and visit me, eh?"

"Peter," you laugh, playfully swatting his shoulder. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how you suddenly get a tall, handsome boyfriend and abandon me!" Peter huffs. "I haven't seen you in a week! I had to eat empanadas in the cafeteria by myself yesterday morning. Do you know how much of a sad, old lonely fool I looked like!?"

You can't help but giggle at Peter's dramatics.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Peter," you say. "How about we go and get lunch right now? Miguel and I are supposed to head out on a patrol later this afternoon and I need all the fuel that I can get; he goes so fast sometimes,"

"Ugh, you lovebirds sicken me."

You quirk an eyebrow at Peter. Does he actually think that you and Miguel are dating?

"Ha-ha Peter, very funny..." you deadpan. "Miguel and I aren't dating; we're just friends."

"You are!?!"

Why did he seem genuinely upset by that?

"Yes?" You give Peter a look of concern. Has he lost his marbles?

"Uh, (Y/N), you go to the cafeteria and grab us some food and seats. I'll be right back—I have to go do something."

Without further explanation, Peter rushes past you, giving you no time to question him further.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Lyla, what time is it?"Miguel asks.

Though he knows that the outing between you and him is not taking place until a couple of hours later, he knows that he has a tendency to get lost in his work and, before he knows it, the hours have slipped away like water.

It's why he normally prefers to go on patrols alone but you had insisted on coming, claiming that you wanted to explore other universes—especially the one that housed the Society—and, well, who was he to deny a Spider the opportunity to learn more? And you—his friend—no less?

Miguel takes in a deep breath, his chest growing tight and fuzzy as memories of you flood his mind.

He moves to go back to work when he hears the door of his laboratory slam open.

"Miguel!" Peter yells.

He sighs. This couldn't be good.

"You didn’t confess!?!"

Miguel freezes.

Mierda.

[thecrimsondandelion]

Richie is basically climbing the fucking walls. He’s got half his wardrobe pulled out and scattered over his bed, a mountain of florals, tacky t-shirts, and the few new suits he’s collected thanks to a certain Miss Beverly Marsh.

He’s never had this much trouble trying to pick an outfit in his entire life. Not at prom, or at any award show he somehow managed to get an invite to. He’s gone on talk shows with a ‘MILF: Man I Love Fishing.’ t-shirt he found at Goodwill.

“I just don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Did you not hear me before? That me and Eddie are going on a date? Edward fucking Kaspbrak, love of my life since we were kids, know him?”

“How many times have you guys gone out together since he moved in with you? If I have to see another Instagram post where you both argue in the comment section like some weird mix of horny teens and an old married couple, I’m going to go crazy.”

“That’s different!” Richie whines, throwing himself back onto the heap of clothes on his bed, “Those weren’t dates, not like, officially.” They’d decided to take it slow and date first after a semi-heated kiss at the Benverly’s (as Richie lovingly called them, like the teen girl he was put into the body of a hairy middle-aged man) cabin, after a tipsy love confession. A love confession that Richie absolutely did not reply to with ‘That is so fucking neat.’ They’d gone out together plenty, but they both agreed to date like normal people would, like they might have done when they were younger if their lives hadn't been fucked up by the killer-clown-from-Outerspace.

“You sound so lame right now. I hope you know that.” Despite the comment, the layer of fondness was clear in Stan’s tone.

Richie pouts, mumbles a petty little, “No, you.” back.

“Anyway, back to the point. What the fuck am I going to wear?”

“You’re talking to the wrong Loser.”

“You’re so right, I don’t wanna turn up dressed like you, Grandpa. I’ll call Bev.” He pauses, pulls at a piece of skin on his lip with his teeth, trying to soothe his racing heart.

“Hey. You’re gonna be fine, Rich. And if Eddie breaks your heart, I’ll break his entire body, okay?” And fuck does that make Richie tear up a little, after all these years, even 27 of them apart, Stan was still particularly protective of him. Even against another of his best friends. His low self esteem appreciated the safety net of knowing that when if Eddie ever just got fed up with him, Stan would be there on his side. “Not that he’s going to. He’s just as stupid and in love as you are.”

“Aw, Staniel. You big ole softie... Thanks, man. Tell Pats I’m asking for her, yeah?” With that he hangs up.

For a moment Richie feels calm again. Until he looks at the mountain of clothes dumped out onto his bed. Fuck.

Bev answers on the second ring, “Hey, Honey! How’re-”

“Eddie and I are going on a date, what the fuck do I wear, Bev?”

She vetoes most of his wardrobe, Ben shows up for moral support too, like the angel sent from Heaven that he is. The thing is though, Richie feels pretty fucking awful leaving the house without his garish shirts – they're his armour. He can wear something fucking horrendous and it distracts away from everything that is him.

Miss Beverly Marsh knows this, and she simply won’t stand for it.

In the end he’s wearing a nice pair of black jeans, cuffed to show off the bright pink Monty Python socks that had been Okay'd so he could have at least one comfort item. And another compromise, a navy shirt with a subtle floral print. It doesn’t scream ‘Weird Al meets the Muppets.’ but it’s enough that it doesn’t make Richie feel stuffy and unlike himself.

“Lookin’ sharp, Richie!” Fucking Ben, so earnest and nice, Beverly coos at his side in agreement, giving a whistle as he’s forced to give them a turn. He’s not used to that kind of attention; he can feel his face heat up and the way his too-tall body wants to shrink in on itself.

“Have a good night, Sweetie! Remember to use protect-”

Richie cuts her off with a shout, suddenly feeling like a teenager being embarrassed by their parents before a first date, “Oh my god, Bev. Shut up.” She cackles good-naturedly at him, while Ben holds back a smirk.

The call ends and he feels sort of bad that Bill and Mike were left out of his crisis, so he shoots them a text: ‘Got a date with Eddie, literally going to die. See you in hell Billiam. I’ll miss you when you’re chilling up in heaven Mikey.’

He can only let himself be distracted by the other Losers for so long, and how fun it was to have his battle with Bill. But it’s creeping closer and closer to 6pm, he knows that he and Eddie will have to leave soon to make it to their reservation. So, he rubs his sweaty palms against the thighs of his jeans, sniffs his pits to make sure he still smells good, and pushes himself out to go knock on Eddie’s bedroom door – which he couldn’t help but achingly hope would become the guest bedroom again in the nearby future.

And isn’t Eddie just a fucking sight for sore eyes, his hair isn’t gelled back to oblivion, so it looks so soft, it curls around his face prettily. Makes Eddie look younger. He’s dressed up in clothes that cost more than Richie has ever spent on anything for himself, fucking Gucci loafers and everything. He looks hot as fuck, and he smells sweet and earthy.

Eddie also has the most shit-eating grin. “I hear you were having some trouble.”

“What? Which one of those assholes told you?” Richie would, in future, deny how whiny he sounded whenever Eddie brings it up to the Losers, when he brings it up at their wedding.

“Rich.” Eddie has the cutest, most devious fucking look on his face. Richie’s cheeks burn as his face is gently held between Eddie’s hands, he can feel the callouses from Eddie’s car endeavors, he can smell the cologne on Eddie’s wrist. “I could hear you, I’m across the fucking hall and you speak like you have a built in megaphone.” And Jesus God Damn Christ, Eddie says it like it’s a compliment, like it's something he adores about him.

Richie turns his face to hide it in the palm of one of Eddie’s hands and, again, whines. The part of him that overthinks, that hates every move he makes, tells him that he’s already fucked up. That Eddie is going to realize that he’s an idiot, that he’s a dork and completely and utterly out of Eddie’s league. As if Eddie isn’t the type to say, ‘See you later alligator.’ or ‘Okay-dokey.’ in a serious conversation.

“C’mon, we’ve got reservations and I’m starving my ass off.”

Richie makes a great effort Not to make a comment on how much of a tragedy that would be, because he really does love that little fucker’s ass.

He does let himself show a little vulnerability, “You still wanna go?”

Eddie cocks his head to the side and gives him the sweetest little smile, catches one of Richie’s hands in his own and gives it a squeeze, “Fuck yeah. You look too good not to, Trashmouth.”

[yoondles]

Grow As We Go - M.YG

CEO! Min Yoongi x CEO! Reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: Marrying your ex isn’t really something you want to do.

Themes: Heavy angst, fluff if you squint for 2 seconds, smut, it ends happily.

Word count: 10k, Unedited

Inspo: Trivia: Seesaw by MYG & Grow As We Go by Ben Platt

Warnings: Yoongi calls you a whore, Yoongi’s pp is huge, reader is a virgin, talks about their toxic relationship, biting/nipping, breast play, light humiliation, fingering, oral (f receiving), squirting, creampie, unprotected seggs, mature language and that’s about it 😐.

A/N: lastly, I haven’t gotten the chance to proofread this and I’m sorry for any mistakes. This is my first fic so feel free to share your thoughts, thank youuu! 😭

You knew you were screwed. The way he held placed his hands inside his pocket, the heavy footsteps that would leave an impression to the carpeted floor of the airport, and the way his eyebrows arched. You were really fucking screwed.

It was the same posture he held one year ago, a few months prior to the separation that lead to the awkwardness that blossomed amidst your honeymoon days. It was eerie silence. You saw the way his veins would pop the moment he saw you as if he was clenching his jaw hard, trying to prevent himself from doing anything he regretted. You refused to make an eye contact with him.

The crowd was going wild, five months after your announced marriage, this was your first public appearance together, as a couple known by the entire nation. The fact that he was Min Yoongi didn’t help either, in fact, more people got interested in your relationship because it was about Min Yoongi.

He was one of the seven bachelors, the current head of BigHit Inc., a large conglomerate. He’s an adopted son of the late Mr. Bang, all of which grew to become individual talents, either blessed in terms of dancing, singing, poetry, even rapping. “Where the fuck have you been?” Cocking one of his brows up as he scrutinised you, looking at your small figure with an imposing look, something that would’ve threatened any normal citizen.

But not you. You knew Yoongi like the back of your hand. Having spent about 5 years of your life in an attempt to make the best out of your arranged marriage with him really helped out. Except for the fact that the two of you haven’t spoken for about one year prior to the wedding itself, and the fact that you were former lovers who decided it wouldn’t work out.

“Japan,” you shrugged him off, dismissing your assistant by giving him your luggage as you tried your best to hide your face from the agonising cameras that the paparazzi held against your face. Thankfully, they were kind enough to make way for the two of you, parting as the newly wedded pair made their way towards the vehicle.

He scoffed at your answer, baffled. He pushed his hair back in annoyance, “why didn’t you tell me anything about this?” You ignored him. Noticing the whispers and glances the people exchanged with one another. You were drifting away, pulled back to reality with the harsh grab you felt in your shoulder, stopping you from moving further. “About what?” You shook his hand off as you attempted to push through. The vehicle seemed to be moving further away from the two of you as tension was quick to rise.

“You, Japan?” You shook your head, walking a tad bit faster this time around. “Hello?” He spoke a bit louder this time, the large empty area made sure that everyone heard him. It was the echoes that reached you. “Just, let me get inside the car,” your voice was getting louder by the second, as the media started cluttering around the two of you, trying to get into the details of what seemed to be an argument between two of the richest heirs in South Korea.

“Can you let me talk to my fucking wife?” His voice was a tad bit louder than earlier, it was nothing that surprised you. He seemed to be fond with wanting himself heard, what shocked you though was the harsh grip that left you wincing as he pulled you inside the car. It was only when you were in front of the door that you managed to shake him off, opening the door yourself as you slumped against the leather seat.

Quickly, you turned away from him, closing your eyes as you forced yourself to shut him out. Pretending that Min Yoongi was a fragment of your imagination and he was no way real, that this was some made up bullshit you fantasised about at 3 AM. “Y/N!” He yelled out your name, anger evident in his voice, as the metal on his seatbelt crashed repeatedly against the plastic, cursing loudly as the driver began to move.

“You couldn’t have fucking waited, could you?!” The loud empty halls in your makeshift home was amplifying your voice. The loud banging of the door was your signal to continue your short rant regarding his unprofessional work, in front of the news outlets that would milk every second that passed in front of them.

“To hell with that, why didn’t you fucking tell me you were going to Japan?” You mocked his tone with a very small voice, removing your heels as you paraded the long hallway, rolling your eyes in the process. Coming to a halt the moment he pulled you back to him with a harsh tug on your wrist. You were quick to react, his face contorting as if confused as to whether he should apologise or continue his facade. “Why should I?” It was a push and pull type of relationship, undoing your dress in front of him was a huge part of the show.

The garment was quick to pool around your feet, swaying your hips gently as you flaunted your white pair of underwear. Moving towards the closet, eyes meeting his through the large mirror. For a moment he paused, taking a few seconds to glance at your body. Taking every curve, every mole, everything he could with such a short amount of time.

“Well, let me see. I’m your husband!”

“Legally, wouldn’t say I voluntarily married you.” You shrugged, grabbing the closest pair of pyjama you found. “Real mature, y/n. It would’ve been nice if I’d gotten a memo, you know?”

“It’s not like you would’ve cared.” You did your best in everything, and right now, pissing him off was on the top of your priorities. Casually grabbing the discarded garment as you walked outside your bedroom, dumping everything in the nearby laundry room, he continued to follow you around like a shadow.

You knew he was pissed. His breathing was a lot harsher, unlike earlier when he was wearing a mask, right now you could see he entirety of his face as he bit his lip in annoyance. “We’re going there, aren’t we?” You nodded, feeling a lot more giddy knowing you did your best to rile him up. Jumping your way towards the kitchen, greeting the maids as you walked over the counter, grabbing a yellow banana.

“Do you seriously think I have no right to know where you are? Is that another privilege I’m not entitled too, hm?”

“Yes, actually. I don’t want you meddling with my business, I want you as far away as possible.” He pursed his lips, placing his hands against his hips as he looked at you dumbfounded. “Contrary to your beliefs, I don’t care about your stupid company. I just want to know if my wife’s safe or if she’s dead.”

“Don’t use the wife card on me, Min Yoongi. Stop acting like you gave a damn about my well-being two weeks ago.” The air conditioning seemed to be working extra harder as the air surrounding the two of you seemed to be a lot more thicker and colder now. His eyebrow slowly arched upwards as he gazed at you, carefully shooting the banana peel inside the automated trash can.

Walking your way towards the fridge to grab a cold glass of water, as he intently gazed at you. “What are you talking about?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his response, offering him a glass of water before placing it back inside the fridge as you washed it yourself. “I’m just returning the favour, it’s not like I knew where you’ve been the past two months.”

Yoongi was confused, it was amusing to look at him, acting innocently after the crimes he’s committed just three months into the relationship that sealed the two of you towards a muddy path to eternity. “Two months? What?”

“Yes, I don’t fucking know where you’ve been, how you’ve managed to slither past my hands, and how you fucking act like you don’t have a wife at home.” That shut him up. It was silence that followed the short confession you managed to squeeze out after days if trying to keep everything together.

“So to hell with Japan, to hell with you trying to know where I’ve been. Because I’ve been clueless for the past two months, not once did you tell me you were off somewhere.”

It was oddly, fulfilling. To be able to give your pent up emotions some freedom after a few days of relaxation. It was a different kind of satisfaction when you saw the way his face moved, the way his facial features would move with every word that left your mouth. You saw the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, as if figuring out why everything had to happen.

It was at this moment you declared your first victory, moving past him, making sure to touch his shoulder with yours on the way out of the kitchen, locking yourself in your bedroom. Your own personal space, far away from what was intended to be your shared space. Because you and Min Yoongi both appreciated privacy far too much.

It was an immature fight, sure. But that was everything that you and Yoongi had been. Immature lovers who wanted each others’ time for each other, the only thing that you managed to do well was break up publicly and settling everything in private. That was a big enough red flag, however, there was an agreement older than the two of you. Somehow, it managed to slap you both in the back of your heads.

Your relationship with him remained platonic. As if nothing had changed between the two of you, like you were the same pair of lovers who broke up with one another one year ago. Living with him had been many things, it was very exhausting having to keep up with his lifestyle.

It was draining to the point of no return, where you’ve been pushed past all your limits and somehow he chooses to ignore everything instead of addressing it. And it had always been like that, was there not any growth? You assumed there would be some, at least a few, but you thought wrong.

You wanted everything to die out, before proceeding with your plans. The two of you had made an agreement that within the span of two years, you’d be out of the marriage. However, with his brothers growing massively successful, the press made sure to watch almost every movement Min Yoongi made. It doesn’t help that he was private, now that he had to be exposed the media tried its’ best to pry him open. So yes, it had been very exhausting. You only needed two years, and you’d be back to the same situation you had been before.

Eating dinner had been uneventful. It consisted of you looking for the perfect video to watch while sitting in the dining table, your food getting colder every minute that passed. As if you hadn’t had an argument earlier, you had no idea where Yoongi was, whether he was safe or if he was fucking another bitch in the club, hell, maybe he was with someone who could satiate his needs, be there for him, fill up whatever you space you failed to replenish.

Was it painful knowing that? Yes. You could be there for him, you wanted him to at least try and approach you as much as you tried to form a coherent bond with him. It won’t be the same as it was two years ago, but you at least wanted to have a friendship with him. You want the two of you to be able to talk to one another without yelling, cursing. You wanted something to happen, something that was better than your current situation.

Your two weeks in Japan had been the greatest time of your life since your marriage. You’d assume that working there would be no different than if you worked from home, however, there was no empty space in Japan. There was no Min Yoongi reminding you that you were married, yelling that you hated your current life situation and that you wanted to escape. It was a breath of fresh air, but it only lasted for a while, not after his secretary bombarded your secretary.

The door closed with a loud “bang!”. It was something you’ve gotten used to over the course of five months, because you know well enough that Yoongi could never close the door without trying to release his pent up anger. He looked sleek, admittedly, he looked very charming wearing his black turtleneck, and his black coat. But you knew that you needed to stay away, as he removed his shoes, you shut down the television, walking fast while chewing on a piece of kimchi. There was a pause, it was the moment you made eye contact with him.

But you ignored it, walking away with your bowl towards your room. Normally, he’d find you in your room, however, he arrived earlier than usual. Fridays would usually mean that he’d be coming home late, trying to clear up his schedule for the weekends, but he was here in all his glory. “Have you been keeping up with the news?” You were holding a chicken bone, gnawing on it as you were about to pull the door, entering your room, but you were a few seconds late. You shook your head slowly.

He took a few steps closer as he began to open his phone.

“Min Yoongi caught desperately trying to save marriage!”

That was one of the very few articles that had appeared in his phone. Alongside, “Divorce Makes Way For The Newly Wedded Min Couple!” You gave him a shrug, unsure as to what he was waiting for, what reaction he wanted upon showing you mediocre headlines. “Well, I’m glad they’ve reported reliable news.” You could practically see smoke fume out of his nostrils in annoyance. “The fuck do you want me to do? Make a call and tell them no, when we were clearly in the middle of an argument earlier?”

He gritted his teeth, his tongue poking out his cheek as he placed both one of his hands in his hips, the other reaching his forehead as if he was trying to ease a random headache he managed to acquire within the three minutes of talk time you allowed each other to have. “This is the first time they’re seeing us, I’m quite pleased with the reaction.” The sarcasm was dripping off of every word, again, you shrugged. Gently placing the bowl down as you stared at him trying to figure out what he wanted from you.

“You’re a CEO, Min Yoongi. You’re not a performer like your brothers are, this doesn’t mean shit to the millions you earn weekly. None of this matters.” You knew that the reason for this was his brothers’ fame, they were out in the spotlight while he was in the dark. This urged the media to move towards Yoongi’s direction more, as he seemed someone who was more intriguing. Someone who’s name stood out in the crowd, despite not being a public character.

“Do you not care about the reputation you have as an individual?”

“Well in the first place, none of this would have happened if you sat down in your goddamn office chair, like you’re supposed to be doing. Not waiting for me in the airport,”

“Glad you appreciate the effort though, was I supposed to not greet you? After disappearing for two fucking weeks?” He let out a laugh, huffing as he placed down his coat somewhere in the sofa. “You yelled in front of everyone, I asked you to wait, to at least let everything boil down to the moment we were inside the vehicle!” It was a matter of proving who’s fault it really was at this point, it was the same immature fight you’d always have but never seemed to resolve.

“Why do you care so much about everyone else? Why do you care about their opinion, when they barely know you.” That was your conclusion, you halted, and moved towards your room. The bowl was left halfway full in the counter, long forgotten as you’ve lost whatever was left of your will to eat the moment Yoongi presented the news articles he found to be fascinating.

In an attempt to move on from the situation, you distanced yourself from him. The already existing wall between the two of you had only grown taller. You did your best to avoid him, even going as far as checking the CCTVs from your office just to see if he was home, letting him do his nightly routine before proceeding to going home yourself. You wanted no physical interaction, in fact, even the invitation that had been sent for the two of you had been forwarded by him through email.

Even your cellphone numbers had been rendered useless, as you barely talked through messages, not once had he called.

You didn’t know how the night would pan out, you just had to get through this, wear a dress that fit the theme, and pretend that the two of you had been happily married for the past six months. Easy, you thought it’d be easy. However, the void that stood in between the two of you had been way too big to even mend. So, you sat there, tapping your fingers against the soft satin fabric of your dress. Awkwardly licking your lips as you failed to make an eye contact with the man beside you.

You clutched your tiny purse as you had been escorted out of the car by Min Yoongi himself, doing your best to try and act natural. Hooking your hand against his arm, as he cleared his throat in surprise, raising a brow towards your direction as you began to walk the red carpet. Similar to the airport scene, the media was everywhere. In addition to the crowd you’ve managed to form, a bunch of business elites were also waiting for the arrival of the lucky couple, having big names in the business field, wanting to please the two of you for possible collaborations and merges. The two of you were the star of the show.

You began critiquing the way the two of you walked, how his steps were far larger than yours and how you always fell behind. The way your arm awkwardly hung from his, how you attempted to push back stray pieces of hair with your other hand.

Parties had always been your cup of tea, you enjoyed them, you saw them as business opportunities. But for the first time in your life, you lacked the confidence to power through the event, your feet were already worn out from the heels you chose to wear, everything was not going as planned and you were terrified that it showed through. What a hypocrite you were, scolding Yoongi for caring too much despite being anxious yourself.

There was a buffet, wine, champagne, and all of Yoongi’s brothers had also been present. They greeted the two of you, which you happily returned, never missing the sly smirk they gave off especially the way Taehyung laughed at your awkward posture, pointing out that he read the previous articles that mentioned the two of you. The part you dreaded was yet to come, it was at that moment that the old Mr. and Mrs. Choi walked in front of your and began asking you questions.

“You look wonderful tonight!” Mrs. Choi gushed at the two of you, her hands clinging onto yours and Yoongi’s as she began to shake the two of them. You smiled politely, exchanging quiet glances with Yoongi, you were screwed. The old couple loved gossiping, they were familiar with all distributors and were often referred to as the “trusted affiliate” that could juice out everything out of a growing issue in South Korea.

“So do you, I really love your earrings!” You returned the excitement, pointing out wherever your eyes had landed first, so it happened to be her earrings. “Thank you! I got them from Chanel, a little outdated but they do the job.” A few awkward sentences later, they began to ask you about what they were really here for. “I’m so glad the two of you were able to attend, I’ve been anxious since the moment we read the issues, we thought you’d be separating, again.” It was the emphasis on the word again that had Yoongi clenching the glass a little harder, enough for the tips of his finger to turn white. However, his composure remained calm, you gently tapped your heel against his leather shoes.

“Arguments do happen, I’m sure you and mr. Choi have also been victims of small fights every now and then, in the end, don’t we all find ways to resolve these?” He ended by bringing the wine closer to his lips, the dark hue beginning to stain his pink plump lips. The couple laughed.

Navigating a conversation with the Choi’s had always been dangerous, at any moment either one of you could stumble upon a trip mine. On top of this, the lack of communication with Yoongi could lead to possible contradiction of your answers, you didn’t discuss anything nor did you prepare for any interviews.

Their many attempts to find new headlines had almost been unsuccessful, almost. “When are you planning to have kids?” Mr. Choi asked, drinking the sparkling drink in his hand as Mrs. Choi complimented him through her fond eyes.

“Right, it has been six months since the two of you had been married. When are we seeing little Yoongi’s, little y/n’s?” The four of us shared a hearty laugh, “well, my wife and I want more time for each other. Not to say we don’t have any plans in the future, but we don’t intend to have kids as of this moment.” It was a good enough answer, barely any information but it was enough to get a good click worthy title. “Oh, interesting. As much as we’d love to stay, we do have to meet a few more people.”

“We’d leave the two of you be, I’m certain you’d want to talk to hipper and younger guests.”

The two of you gave a polite smile, sighing loudly as they finally left your table. You downed the glass of wine faster than you had done before, the heat in your throat finally easing the tension you’d been feeling. You shared an awkward glance, lightly chuckling after deeming the interaction as somewhat successful.

“You did great,” you praised Yoongi, he started scratching the back of his head as his cheeks glowed in a pink hue, avoiding eye contact for a few seconds. “Who would’ve thought that that would work out?” Biting your lip as you shyly smile at him. It was you getting flustered all over again, similar to how your dimples would show, how you’d look at your feet in order to avoid his stares, those five beautiful years had always been dear to your heart. However, the breakup was almost inevitable.

The two of you were growing at your own pace, while you were busy preparing to be the next CEO, Yoongi had already been managing the company. Although you tried to make ends meet, it still happened. It started with small immature fights, soon it evolved to the days you would fail to meet, bigger arguments emerged, and although you tried your best to settle everything, you were not in the right state of mind. The never ending pressure that erupted from your family, the business meetings, the small problems you encountered in your day-to-day life. Everything collided.

You wanted to find comfort in Yoongi, you wanted him to be the safe space you needed whenever you wanted, but you became selfish. You would tell him everything, disregarding the fact that he too had problems, that he was also suffering considering that a job meant to be split into seven members, were all being handled by one. He tried his best, but on some days it got too much for him to handle, and one day, he finally exploded. He ended the relationship the two of you had, a five year relationship ended in the course of three months.

And now here you were, using your newfound attitude as a way to cope with the heartache that you still feel deep within your heart. Acting like a spoiled kid who was denied for the first time.

What you didn’t know was how much Yoongi had been suffering too. How much he wanted to come to you, and how much he needed to be with you. To him, the arrangement was a blessing in disguise. It felt like a huge blow in the gut when you had suggested a divorce after the noise you’ve made died down, from then he began to feel dejected. Slowly overworking himself, trying his best to distract himself from the fact that you would never be his. The distraction he made soon lead to distance, distance between the two of you.

He tried to act tough around you, spiteful even. But when he remembers how you implicitly rejected his proposal to a life with him, he’d attempt to push through. Putting on this mask as if he was tough, that he was different from the Yoongi you once knew, that he’d no longer be there for you. He halted all of his actions, actions he thought would bring the two of you together. Forming a stronger bond compared to the five years you’ve spent together.

With you acting poorly in front of him, using aggressive retaliation, and him being terrified of the rejection you unknowingly did, your relationship was in a standstill. You were two people who wanted each other, and sadly, there might be no way of knowing that you two did feel the same way.

Despite the flashing lights, the smiles you tried to offer other business associates, you still ended up back into your dark and gloomy house. It was large, had many empty walls and was barely decorated. There was no way of telling if the house was occupied or not, it was far too... professional? It had no character, no visible sign of change, it was bare.

The dark room you managed to inhabit for the past six months reminded you of how lonely you’ve been feeling, how different you were from the persona you tried to play outside of the walls. You’ve grown so accustomed to loneliness that it became such a huge part of your life, you could barely even remember how you acted before you were married to Yoongi, how carefree you were. It was pitiful how a rich, privileged woman like you was stuck inside a place you didn’t feel comfortable in.

It wasn’t the idea of being alone that made you feel lonely, it was living with someone with no physical reaction despite being entitled to at least a little bit of skin-on-skin contact, a hug would’ve been a big help. With these thoughts, you pulled your hand away from Min Yoongi’s as you began to wave the pathway towards the front door. Crossing your arms as you moved in, avoiding him as you made it as quickly as possible towards your bedroom.

Yoongi stood behind the door, for a night that had gone so well, your reaction had been far too harsh. Leaving him as soon as you had the opportunity, as if he were something so toxic to you that you couldn’t even stand being with him, alone, for at least a minute. He felt his chest swell, it wasn’t the good type of swell, it was fucking painful.

Removing his leather shoes, and walking towards the master bedroom, he asked himself what ifs, what if the two of you managed to handle everything more maturely, to the point of having a proper relationship up until now? What if the two of you had really wanted it? Would things be better?

Good grief, of course, things would have been so much better. He cursed himself silently, muttering under his breath as he took the moment to blame himself for just ending the relationship the moment he had the chance too. He didn’t even give himself enough time to process the decision he’d been making. On that same day, he was collected by Kim Namjoon, his brother, in a local bar. He was passed out, his Armani suit reeked of alcohol as he tried his best to push Namjoon away. Telling him desperately that he was fine and that he could drive himself home.

If only fate had been a little forgiving, if only. Coincidentally, on that same night, two establishments away, you’d been busy getting drunk. Two drunk adults had been found passed out, the two of them reeking of alcohol, upset about the same relationship that could’ve been something if it weren’t for their carelessness.

The bitterness of yesterday had easily died down the moment that your nostrils engaged with the familiar scent of coffee, it was an early Saturday morning. The curtains had been automatically opened using an A.I, giving you a marvellous view of the infinity pool outside your room. Stretching your limbs as you carefully stepped outside after putting on your Hello Kitty slippers, you were greeted by your husband doing what he was best at, making coffee.

The situation would’ve been more lax if the two of you were on speaking terms but, you weren’t. He offered you a fresh cup of coffee, something you were quick yo take, a soft “thank you,” escaped your lips before letting the warm liquid pass through. Whilst you stood there in your Sanrio pyjama, the other man stood fully clothed with his suit. He was all geared up for work, something you never quite understood. From what you know about him, he’d always been quite the workaholic, he didn’t have time to pause.

“I’ll be off,” he pursed his lips, forming a thin line of something that resembled a smile. You nodded as you took another sip of the warm coffee. Just like that, he left holding a tumbler with coffee, and his car keys. “Well, at least he bothered this time...” you murmured, walking towards the refrigerator to gather ingredients for your pancakes.

You were busy dancing as you flipped distorted, the television was playing, it served as your background music as you enjoyed the short freedom you had. You made another cup of coffee, bringing the mug and grabbing maple syrup from the cabinet, drizzling it on top of the semi-perfect pancakes. Comfy in your pyjamas, you sat down in the couch and began to dig into the pancakes. You were in the mood, for just basically anything. You were at peace, that was what you felt. Two seconds away from pressing the button to finally turn it off, a scene quickly caught your attention.

The man who made you coffee was the same guy in the TV, Min Yoongi was guesting with his little brother on a survival program, it was about a new girl group awaiting for their debut. Today was the day they get to decide which of the members would be debuting as an official member, as a collaboration between two of the largest entertainment companies Yoongi was called out in order to monitor the members. Hoseok had been a judge since the beginning, here he was sitting next to Yoongi as they made small talk. You paused, holding the empty plate as you grew more intrigued.

Everything was going well, up until they met face-to-face with the trainees. All of the judges reunited with one another, one particular judge, Suran had been quite affectionate with Yoongi. It started with a handshake, that was no big deal, it was a formal exchange between two important judges on the show. It was something normal, very normal.

The show escalated smoothly, rushing towards the kitchen counter as you quickly washed the plate despite the maids offering you their own hands. You jumped towards the couch, and sat down, your heart was racing from the adrenaline rush. But it was all worth it as the show continued. There was nothing that interested you, aside from Min Yoongi, so of course you paid attention to him the most. It caught you by surprise when the camera panned towards their direction, there was a soft voice as Suran held Yoongi’s hand, complimenting his bracelet, making small connections with his hands. “It’s really pretty,” Suran murmured, the host went silent upon noticing the interaction between the two of them.

Yoongi was quick to bow, thanking her as soon as possible. “Your cheeks have gotten really pink!” Hoseok exclaimed, his laughter echoing through the stage. Clapping his hands every once in a while as he continued to make fun of his older brother.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a big deal to you. You weren’t exactly the jealous type. However, with the way you and Yoongi were right now, and how quick he was to react to Suran’s simple compliment, the way they exchanged smiles, how they held eye contact for even a split second. Everything was making your blood boil.

You swallowed hard, it didn’t help that throughout the rest of the show the judges and the trainees kept teasing the two of them. How much did you have to pay for in order to get the same treatment as Suran did? Why did he act that way? Most importantly, how come Yoongi never lets you see this side of him, why does he always have to be mad or annoyed whenever he talked to you? How special was Suran to him that the moment the two of them stood close to one another, they had no trouble navigating through their conversation.

Oh you definitely weren’t jealous, yes you were simply making comparisons and that was natural, right? No, you hated yourself for feeling this way. How come he acted like that around her? Why can’t he act like that around you? You were annoyed at how he moved on, how happy he was. On the other hand, here you were, watching he two of them converse, still moving on from the breakup that had happened more than a year ago. You pitied yourself, you really did. “Fucking hell,” you muttered upon noticing the pooling tears from the corners of your eyes. It was at this exact moment that someone had kneeled before you.

When had he arrived? And why were you only finding out about this. Yoongi was looking at you with a worried look in his face as you desperately tried to hide your face from him, closing your eyes as soon as possible and grabbing the neck hole of your shirt as you lifted it up to cover your eyes. He grabbed the remote control and finally shut down the TV, “shh,” he quietly engulfed you with his body, the scent of his cologne slowly emanating from him. He guided you, lifting you up and walking towards your bedroom, covering your face from the rest of the maids that began to throw looks towards your direction.

It was the humiliation that struck you the most, the fact that he caught you watching his guesting on a show, and somehow found a reason to start getting jealous and ending up in such a pitiful condition which involved crying for affection was beyond you, you didn’t know what had happened. Why did you let yourself do this? You silently cursed yourself. “Baby, what happened?” He had a way with his words, somehow he managed to blend in a nickname, somehow that was enough to remind you what you had lost.

You shook your head repeatedly, trying your best to deny any feelings you showed. Pulling your shirt down, you were forced to meet his eyes, his thumbs found your tear stained cheeks, wiping them off gently as he locked eyes with you. “Why, what’s wrong?” He asked you again, you built up the courage, it was either now or never. “I don’t like seeing you with Suran, no, I don’t like seeing you acting like that around anyone else.” Your hiccups got in the way, but you managed to tell him exactly what you had wanted.

“Y/n...” he paused for a moment.

“How come you act like that around them, while you treat me like this? Why do they get better treatment? I’m your wife Yoongi, how come I get the leftovers while they get full course meals?” You heard how ridiculous you sounded, cringing at your choice of words and the way they flowed out of your lips. But you were humiliated enough, if it were a different situation then maybe you’d be laughing at yourself. “I want you all to me, Yoongi. And I know that it’s not possible, but I want us. I want what we both lost,” his fingers carded through your hair, the other massaged your back in a soothing manner, there was dead silence for a moment.

You knew you lost him.

His arms snaked around you, pulling you in closer to him as he gently placed a kiss on your forehead. He lifted your face up using his thumb, finally he kissed you on your lips. “But you already have me, y/n.” You knew it wasn’t real, there was no way this was happening right now. “You have me,” he muttered against your ear before gently sealing the space left in between your lips.

The tears you poured were all worth it, you knew from that point on that the relationship you once broke had been finally mended. You felt weight being lifted away from your chest.

You were sighing against his lips, fixing your posture as you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands slowly moving south. Grasping your arse as you shifted your position, sitting on top of his legs. You didn’t know what had taken over you at that point. You were desperate for more. The whine that left your lips wasn’t something you had voluntarily done, the moment he pulled away from you, his lips were a lot more plump. His chest was heaving, he threaded his palms in his hair as he eyed you. The two of you did your best to catch your breath.

It wasn’t the first time you stopped in the middle of doing something so sensual, you’ve always wanted your first with someone who you were willing to fully commit to.

Within the five years that you’ve spent together, Yoongi had always respected your boundaries. He stopped the moment you told him. He was a man of self control, but you knew that at some point he’d eventually reach his peak. Right now, there was nothing else you’d wish for aside from this finally happening. “Do I have you?” His forehead touched yours, his warm breath fanned over your saturated lips, closing your eyes you once again touched his lips.

He groaned against your lips.

Something unusual erupted from inside you, it was something you’ve felt before. Only now, you weren’t doing anything to stop it. Your lips parted, neck bending sideways as your breathing stuttered. His lips began working wonders, never leaving a spot on your neck untouched.

The flame that erupted from inside you began to engulf you, the moment you felt his lips against the side of your jaw, you knew you were done for. You began to slowly move your hips, moaning as you felt him nip slowly against your skin. His hands wandered through every crevice, eventually finding untouched area just below your cute little top.

You moved faster, trying to chase something you weren’t quite sure for, but for a moment you thanked the heavens above for Yoongi’s rough pants. You were a stuttering mess, grinding harder, pushing yourself even deeper against his thighs as you tried to reach something, just anything. You knew you were close, so close.

His hands worked wonders under your shirt, already unclasping your garment. Yoongi gave you all of his attention, which is why your heavy breathing didn’t go unnoticed. You were inches away from reaching that something, however, he pulled you away from your rhythm with one quick nip against your jaw, his hands clasping against the flesh of your arse, coming to a disagreement as he pulled onto them, giving you a quick slap.

“Yoongi,” you didn’t know if you were pleading him, maybe it came to you out of instinct, annoyance, you weren’t sure. But you were in too deep, you could honestly cry if he didn’t give you what you needed at that moment.

A low chuckle erupted from him, his chest moving against yours, reminding you of how close the two of you were. “Patience baby, this is your first time...” he gave you a quick peck. Holding the hem of your shirt as he gently lifted it off of you, catching his breath at the sight of your bare breasts. Hands finding their natural position as he flipped the two of you, you head cushioned against the pillows as you stared at his eyes, completely captivated by how desperate he looked, how desperate he wanted to lay his hands against your perky buds.

Starting from your lips, he made his way slowly downwards, making sure to nip the exact spot he knew to be sensitive, at this moment you hadn’t bothered to check if he was leaving marks, but with the time he took to make his way where you had wanted him, you would honestly be pissed off if you didn’t have any. He suckled on one of your breasts, making you arch your back off of the soft mattress. Gasping loudly at the newfound sensation, a drug you were exposed too for the first time, you felt his smirk. Long slender fingers began to touch the other, only adding more to the pleasure, making sure that neither of your mounds felt left out.

He pulled out of the other with a pop, mouth lingering downwards, kissing around your belly button before making its’ way towards the other one. The light illuminated the signs he left on your other boob, out of curiosity you touched your gleaming bud while he put all of his attention on the other. It was far more sensitive, your breathing had turned harsh, your throat felt constricted as you failed to let out moans, Yoongi’s ears were filled with nothing but short gasps. Your hips used your legs as support trying to get any form of contact, however, Yoongi’s legs never faltered. You only grew more desperate with every minute his lips dwelled on your breast.

Your underwear would surely be clinging onto your lips by now, you were irritated by the fabric, you wanted more, you needed it off of you.

“Yoon, please,” tears were pooling by the corner of your eyes, despite begging Yoongi whilst grinding your hips against his body, your hands grounded him against your breast. You were dazed, as if you were drowning and yet you didn’t want to be pulled out of the water, it was painful, and yet you indulged in it. It was a newfound addiction you knew you didn’t want to let go off, it was driving you crazy, towards the edge of all the boundaries you wanted to break.

He hummed, sending vibrations through your chest, you moaned loudly. You chased your breath, trying your best to calm down as he lapped your breast. You groaned even harder, protesting and demanding for something else. He grounded your hips with one of his hands, forcing you to lay still as he let go of your breast.

“God, y/n,” he left his words hanging, you lay still catching your breath as you tried to process what was happening. Sweat trickled from his neck, temporarily staining his black top. His hair was a mess, something you were responsible for, desperately clinging onto it as he showed you undiscovered territory with the small flicks of his tongue. Gently kissing your lips, you let out a sigh of relief upon feeling his calloused fingers against the material of your bottoms.

Raising your hips as you he managed to pull your underwear and your pyjamas at the same time. He pulled away from the kiss, appreciating your naked figure, his mouth was slightly open as he drunk in every detail of your body. You had nothing left to hide, lifting your chest slightly off the bed, flaunting your curves.

The moment he was able to process everything that was laid before him, he knew he was screwed. Memorising every detail, even the small mole in your thigh, everything was imprinted in his head. He knew that he’d be having a hard time from this day forward.

“A fucking goddess,” he murmured under his breath, making eye contact with you as he gently dived down, spreading your legs farther away from each other. Slowly, you revealed your entire body to him. He felt like wanton, appreciating the way your tight nether lips gently opened for him, slick evident in your thighs caused by the never ending squeeze of your legs a few minutes ago when he’d been too busy appreciating your breasts.

You looked away from him, it dawned you how exposed you had been. The way he was fully clothed, with nothing but unruly hair as evidence of the sensual act you’d been committing, you felt humiliated. Despite the fact that he was on his knees, attempting to make an eye contact right below you, you knew he was in control. He gave quick pecks just below the area you had wanted him most, “look at me,” warm air hitting your womanhood. You were innocent in this sense, everything he’d been making you feel was a first to you.

“Y/N,” he licked the inside of your thighs, and when you refused to look at him for the second time, he pulled you downwards. Like a rag doll made for him. His tongue darted straight to your clit, you’re knees felt like jelly. Closing your thighs as a response to the sudden movement, his arms we’re quick enough to wrap around your thighs, forcing them open as he let his tongue lick through the mess you’ve managed to create.

He suckled on your clit, as if licking it gently weren’t enough. Leaving open mouthed kisses, as he pushed onto the sensitive bundle of nerves using his wet appendage. You desperately hold on to the sheets, crinkling them, using your arms as support as you tried your best to hold on for your dear life. You could feel every movement he made, the way his tongue desperately tries to enter your tight hole, the way his lips would wrap around your clit, the way he would smirk after hearing you moan his name repeatedly.

“Shit, Yoongi!” You’re voice called out to him, a tad bit louder than your moans. You gasped for air, hands wrapping around his hair, legs quivering upon the new sensation that set fire to your entire body. He continued to lap your cunt, your lips growing even tighter around his tongue. The sounds he’d been able to produce was enough to drive you to the edge. Hearing how loud he was able to make your cunt sound was beyond you.

A few short breaths, the quick tug in your stomach, and the elated beating of your heart. It came crashing down on you.

You did your best, trying to close your thighs as it began to feel too much, beads of sweat trickled down your forehead as you clung onto his dark hair. With one last gasp, and the closure of his lips, you came with a yell of his name. Your release was greeted by his lips, drinking you in like his favourite wine, overwhelmed by the stimulation you felt you begged him to stop. You rode your high against his muscle, finally, he pulled away.

His chin was gleaming, signs of your release scattered around his lips. Using his thumb, he picked it up. “Open,” he raised one of his brows towards your direction, you looked at him in confusion only to follow his orders. You were greeted by his thumb, you sucked on it, not hesitating despite tasting your own cum. He pulled it out only to replace it with his mouth, sharing the familiar taste, on a regular day it would’ve been odd, but to hell with it.

Whining against him, you tugged his sweater, demanding it be discarded somewhere in the expanse of your room. Chuckling once more he finally pulled away, with a quick flick of his wrist, he threw his top somewhere. You were greeted with a body you weren’t used too. He’s been working out, oh, he’s definitely been working out.

The way his chest moved as he heaved on top of you, the way his arms would flex and the veins that crawled from his hand to his shoulder, as if he was carved by the greatest sculptors. You swallowed harshly. God, he was fucking gorgeous.

You were brought back to reality when his finger poked your entrance, biting your lip as you watched in fascination, the way you wrapped around him, the way it quivered after its’ peace had been disrupted for the first time. Pumping his hand slowly as his eyes never left yours, watching the way your face would contort with every movement, closing your eyes as tightly as you could, soaring higher than the clouds that you had to remind yourself to breath every once in a while.

He felt you flesh, making slow movements as he tried different angles, deciding which one made you moan the loudest. Finally, he found your spot. His movements getting a lot harsher by the second, “god damn it, Yoongi.” You cursed him under your breath, gasping as he went faster and faster. “You think you can take more, baby?” his voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the way his hand moved harshly against your weeping cunt.

“More, please, more,” you chanted your mantra. Your wetness spreading to the rest of his fingers, a second one slipping into the mix. His movements were fast, but not fast enough. You tried to meet his thrusts, his eyebrow cocking upwards at the way you moved below him, observing how desperately you wanted to reach your climax for the second time tonight. “Who would’ve thought you’d be this desperate for my fingers, hm?” His voice getting lower and lower throughout the duration of the sentence.

You were in your own little bubble, his hand quickly surging forward, scissoring his fingers apart in an attempt to get you more loose, to get you to open up for him. Two fingers weren’t enough. Gasping as you felt his fingers do their best to stretch inside your needy little hole, his other hand reaching forward as he tried to distract you from the sudden movements he made inside.

Your clit was getting stimulated, while his other hand pumped even faster. You’re mind went blank, unsure as to what Min Yoongi had been saying for the past few minutes. You assumed you would reach your limit at any second, however, you felt a jolt of pain when he inserted his third finger. Cursing loudly as you held his hand, your breathing growing more shallow. He pumped his hand a little harsher, giving an emphasis to the three fingers he had inside of you.

He pulled the other away from your clit and stilled his movements, you tried to move away from his hand, doing your best to form coherent thoughts as you were torn between pushing even deeper or pulling away. You gasped for air, feeling him kiss your cheek as his deep voice murmured against your ear, “you’re going to need more than two if you want us to go all the way in, baby.”

Jesus Christ, how big was his cock?

These were your exact thoughts, “a minute, Yoongi.” You did your best to relax, forcing your hold to relax as he held his hand steady your cunt desperately in need of action. His other hand went back to massaging your clit, while the remaining began pumping in a slower manner. Despite getting used to the feeling of having three fingers inside of you, it was still too much for your tight unused cunt. However, it made you feel something, soon, the pain was ebbing away. “Faster,” you wish you hadn’t told him that, as his palm began hitting your clit in an abusive manner, driving you over the edge.

The strange feeling began to build up inside of you, his pace grew faster, faster, and faster. Before you knew it, you came undone. You pushed his fingers away, your legs shaking as you desperately closed them. Despite not having anything inside of you, the pleasure was still very evident. You opened your eyes to a wet Min Yoongi, realisation dawned you. “Fucking hell,” he smirked, shushing you gently as he pried your legs open, observing the quivering hole that once sheltered three of his fingers.

You had squirted.

It explained so much, the way the sheets were damp, the way his chest had been shining, your cheeks were flushed.

Your eyes found his bulge, restrained by his belt and the rough material of his pants. You didn’t know what had taken over you, but you wanted his cock. You wondered what else he could make you feel. “Want your cock, Yoongi, please. Need it so bad,”

“Do you think you could handle more?”

You nodded eagerly, despite the dwindling tiredness in your eyes, you knew you still wanted one thing just before you pass out. You wanted to explore how much you could take, what else you could possibly feel, you wanted everything. Desperation. You were desperate for everything that Min Yoongi could give you. “Please,” that was all it took to push Yoongi over the edge. His pants and his boxers had been discarded in a flash, you gazed at him, specifically at the massive thing between his thighs.

You gasped.

Maybe you were taking more than you could afford to take, upon seeing the worried look in your face, Yoongi was quick to comfort you. Telling you that there was no rush in taking things this far, but with a quick roll of your wet cunt against his hard cock, he ceased his words. Letting a growl erupt from his chest as he moved his cock against your pussy. “You’re a beast, y/n.” Positioning his manhood against your wet hole, slowly entering you. Just his tip felt massive enough, the tears that threatened to spill earlier, were full on leaking out of your eyes as you shut them.

Gasping loudly, making an inaudible noise as you felt his tip enter you tiny little opening. “Taking me in so well,”

“Pussy still tight after taking all three of my fingers, you’re a fucking whore.” He stilled his movements, pausing every once in a while as he was slowly hugged by your body. “Ha-ah,” you moaned as he pushed it in even further. “How are you this fucking big,” your manicured nails marred the flesh of his back, marking it with small little crescents. He ignored your remarks, instead he focused on how he’d possibly fit everything in you. You thought you’d be ripped in half when he first entered his third finger, however, at this point you were certain you’re literally split into two. His monstrous cock doing its’ best to intrude your virgin walls.

Inch after inch you felt your sanity being washed away from your body, for a split second you knew your soul lifted away. Your eyes rolling back as he continued to penetrate you with his massive manhood, tiny scars forming in his back from how hard you gripped him. His thumbs sinking on your hips in an attempt to keep you grounded as he pushed himself in. The only warning you got was a quick peck on your forehead before he pushed to the hilt. You yelled, back arching off of the comfortable mattress, your tears staining your cheeks. With the way his breathing became shaky, how his words would falter and the short pauses he took in order to process the idea of having him spear through you in its’ entirety, he was over the fucking moon.

Moving away from him in an attempt to ride him, he couldn’t help but laugh at the desperate actions you took just to get fucked. Pulling out until its’ just his tip before harshly slamming back down, knocking the air out of your lungs as you tried to form coherent sentences, before giving up halfway through and just yelling his name repeatedly. “Ruining your tight fucking cunt for everyone else,” his breathing was harsh, he came in raging inside of you. Harsh pain emerging from your pussy as you took your first and last cock, biting down on your lip as you tried to calm yourself down.

Pulling your perked up nipples before releasing them with a pop, adding more pleasure to the large intrusion in your walls. You couldn’t hear anything, the only thing you could process was the filthy sound your cunt made against his balls. The discernible wet noises, the way the bed creaked against the wall, the way he heaved on top of you, for a split second the two of you owned the world. His lips met yours, his gentle kiss was far different from his rigorous thrusts.

Just when you thought he couldn’t go any faster, he’d prove you wrong with the next. Marking your neck with more purple hues, making you completely his, giving an emphasis on every suck with a harsh thrust, ending it with a gentle kiss on your exposed flesh. You knew you were going to be sore the next day.

Assisting your legs, wrapping them around his waist, he felt your cunt clench around him. “You’re close aren’t you, your cunt clenching around me, refusing to let go of my cock.”

“You’re mine, y/n. No one can ever fuck you the same way as I do,” he growled against your ear as his pace started getting harsher. You couldn’t keep up with him, the next thing you knew you were a shaking mess before him. Coming undone and clenching him, making your pussy a lot more tighter. You tried to push him away, you had already come undone three times in one night, you didn’t know if you had the capacity to cum once more.

However, all you got out of him was an apology, pounding even harder with the added pressure of his thumb circling around your clit repeatedly. “Carving my dick inside of you, because you’re all mine,” You whined in protest, more tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you tried to keep your composure. The pain of overstimulation taking over your entire body, you were all worn out.

Despite all the earlier attempts to push him off, at this point you had no energy left. So you took it all, growing far more needy for another gush of liquid in your cunt, yelling out gibberish as his pace slowly began to falter. Biting your lip, closing your eyes, you felt another tug in your stomach. As if your first orgasm had never ended, you were cumming, for the last time, hopefully.

“All. Fucking. Mine.” With each word he thrusted harder, you felt warm liquid painting your walls white as you choked out a sob. Clinging onto him as he gently pulled out. Meeting your eyes and gently wiping away your tears, jokingly slapping his arm afterwards. “The audacity you have, after doing it so roughly.” His gums appeared in front of you, the same gummy smile that made your heart bloom finally appearing once again.

He kissed your forehead before tucking you in bed, the sticky feeling from the sheets only making you wince. He stretched out his back before walking towards your bathroom, soon enough you heard the shower. Despite the icky and sick feeling of the sheets, you managed to take a 30-minute nap, only to be woken up by Yoongi gently blowing on your face. “Let’s go upstairs...” he whispered softly, pulling you up, as he wrapped your robe around you.

Carrying you as if you weighed nothing, as he walked around the house with nothing but his towel wrapped around his waist. For the first time in months, you finally got to see how his bedroom looked like. You groaned in pain after he put you down against the grain of his marble counter. Grabbing a wash cloth and rubbing the damp towel all over your body, using warm water, finally cleaning up the mess he’s managed to make. Dressing you up in a pair of your own pyjamas he must’ve gotten earlier.

You clung onto him like a baby koala afterwards, forcing him to lay down with you in his bed. The scent of pine trees covered the silk sheets, accompanied by his favourite cologne from Paco Rabanne.

Just as if a year of separation hadn’t happened, you found your way clinging to his body the same way you did when the two of you had been dating. The small peck on top of your head was nothing unusual, the instinct of having his arm gently wrap around you after such a tiring day from work. Slowly, everything pieced itself. You wondered just how you lived through a year without him, how much you wished you’d spent it together.

He inhaled your scent, closing his eyes as he felt the satisfaction rushing in his veins. “I love you, y/n... so much, so, so, much.” He whispered against your ear, lips finding your temple as he gave you another kiss. Telling you how much he appreciated you, terrified that somehow the two of you would find your way back to the same place you ended up in, all alone and in desperate need of comfort from each other. Yoongi took his time to tell you all the sweet nothings he wished he told you before you separated.

By the end of the day, the two of you were just thankful you’d finally found your way back home.

© Yoondles 2021, All Rights Reserved

[xanasaurusrex]

Light - B.M.

Pairing: Beverly Marsh x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1918 words

Warnings: Love confession, mutual pining, swimming, swearing, Richie Tozier (it’s a warning within itself), kissing, tooth-rotting fluff I stg, Losers Club are aged up to 17, super crappy ending, not proofread, I think that’s it! Please let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: The other Losers know for a fact that Bev returns Y/N’s feelings, even though she’s blind to them herself. But after a set up one day, maybe she’ll see the light.

Notes: My first ever It (2017) fic! Also my first fic on Tumblr! Thank you to anyone who read this, because it’s taking a lot of courage to write this, let alone post it…. Yeah, Bev and Richie are my favorite characters in the movies, and, given my url, I figured my first fic should be a Bev fic! Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

******

“She likes you back, Y/N,”

“No she doesn’t.”

“Stop fighting it, we all see it!”

Y/N looked at Richie with a roll of her eyes, turning back forward to avoid crashing into anyone or anything with her bike. “Can you stop with that? I don’t want you giving me false hope when I know she doesn’t like me back,”

Richie was the one to roll his eyes this time.

Everyone in the Losers Club knew that Y/N had had a crush on Bev for as long as they could all remember. Since the first day she saw Bev in the pharmacy after they found Ben outside the sewers and had gone in to find the supplies to fix him up.

Bev had been the one to save the day. She had distracted the man at the counter while they took the things they needed, and had come back afterwards to make sure that Ben was okay. Of course, Y/N had realized that it was not the time to be admiring Bev, seeing as Ben had just had a pretty rough run-in with Bowers, and Eddie was freaking out enough as it was.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to fall completely in love with the red-headed Derry resident. She lived in the apartment above hers, and whenever Bev’s dad fell asleep, Bev would climb down the fire escape and climb into Y/N’s window.

Y/N would sit with her and listen to what she said, or would just sit there, and the girls would hug.

On those nights when Bev either couldn’t go down to Y/N’s apartment, or didn’t need to, Y/N would lay down, and stare up at the ceiling, knowing that Bev’s room was directly above her own. She would wonder what Bev was doing, if she was reading the secret admirer note that Ben had given her, or if she was thinking of Y/N just as much as she was thinking of Bev.

It was torture.

It took a little longer for the other members of the Losers Club to realize that Y/N was falling in love with Bev. After that, they all began encouraging her to confess to Bev, because even though at the time they hadn’t seen the light that ignited in Bev’s eyes the second they landed on Y/N, they wanted their friends to be happy, and who else to be happy with but each other?

That was all when they were twelve, nearly five years ago. In that time, they had all seen that Bev loved Y/N the same way Y/N loved Bev. It was hard to watch the two beat around the bush with each other; subtle flirting that neither one noticed (though everyone else did), and even harder to see them think that the other was in love with other people, though everyone else thought it was painfully obvious to everyone else that it was each other they were in love with.

Now, as Y/N and Richie biked home together, Richie tried his best to convince Y/N for the thousandth time that Bev liked her back, no, loved her back.

“I’m sorry Rich, I want to believe you, I really do,” Y/N said for the thousandth time. “But you’ve gotta be blind to not see that Bev and Bill are in love with each other,”

 Richie quickly realized that he didn’t have enough energy to argue with her today, even though he still wanted to, instead opting for a safer topic: the test that Mr. Herrd gave them today, that Richie was fairly sure he had failed.

***

“They’re both fuckin idiots,”

Everyone nodded in agreement at Richie’s statement as the entire Losers Club watched Y/N and Bev play around and splash each other in the lake in the quarry, both of them giggling like little girls, their cheeks bright pink, and not from the sun.

“Bev!” Y/N squealed as Bev splashed her with a particularly large amount of water. After taking a second to regain herself, she retaliated by splashing an even larger amount of water at Bev.

“It’s like they’re both wearing signs saying, ‘I’m in love with the person standing in front of me, but since I’m both a pussy and an idiot, I haven’t said anything yet,”

Stan rolled his eyes at Richie’s language, but agreed nonetheless. “I wish they would just admit it to each other already. To be honest, it’s getting tiring. Should we just… lock them in a room together and not let them leave until they confess?”

“That’s an idea,” Bill smiled.

“Maybe we should say we’re meeting at the Quarry but then none of us show up,” Eddie suggested. “Chances are they’re gonna stay and hang out, and maybe if we’re lucky they’ll say something?”

Richie scoffed. “Knowing them, fat chance. I think if this plan fails, we should go with Stan’s idea,”

The others all agreed, and decided when the best date would be to set this up, and then set the date for their backup plan, and decided they would do it at Bill’s house, since his is the biggest and they would be able to hang around and check in on them regularly without having to hear them kick and scream.

“You guys coming back?” Y/N broke the boys out of their trance after her and Bev realized that they had been splashing each other for nearly fifteen minutes, when they should have been splashing the boys. “We’re getting bored!”

The boys all gave each other a sly look before immediately running back towards the water, splashing Bev and Y/N immediately, all of them laughing as they got splashed back.

***

“Are they coming?”

Bev and Y/N had been at the Quarry for nearly half an hour, both of them laying against the rocks, sunbathing, in just their bikinis. It took everything in both of them not to stare at the other and admire everything about them.

Y/N glanced at the watch that she had taken off her wrist, anticipating that they’d be swimming, and saw that it was now forty five minutes after noon, the time all the Losers had agreed to be at the Quarry.

Y/N sighed. “I don’t think so. Maybe they all forgot?”

Bev laughed. “You think Stan forgot? He’s probably at Richie’s with the others trying to get Richie out of bed. How much d’you wanna bet he stayed up all night on his Gameboy again, and now he’s sleeping the day away?”

She said the last part in a mock-dreamy way, a tone of voice that had Y/N’s heart soaring. She had always loved the sound of Bev’s voice, and there were certain times when it would just go straight to tug on Y/N’s heartstrings. It was never a particular time, just… Bev.

Everything about Bev was magical to Y/N. Somehow, all it took was one small smile, one of Bev’s smiles, and all of a sudden, Y/N was a completely different person.

Normally, she didn’t really like physical contact. It wasn’t anything in particular that had caused it, she just never was a really cuddly person. She could enjoy a short hug, or a quick high five, but anything longer than about three seconds made her uncomfortable

She wasn’t that way with Bev. Y/N would hug her for eternity, and would never want to stop. The two often held hands, and told everyone else that it was purely platonic, though Y/N secretly wished that it would be something more.

Y/N knew that Bev was still talking, but she couldn’t focus on anything more than the way that Bev’s lips were moving, as they moved quickly and perfectly to form the words that were on Bev’s brain.

The conscious, realistic part of Y/N’s brain told her that she should be focusing on what her friend was actually saying. That in just a few seconds, Bev was going to do the thing that they always did in movies where she waved her hand in front of Y/N’s face and asked if she had heard anything she said.

Sure enough, she did.

“Y/N/N, are you even listening to me?” Bev asked with a small chuckle.

The sound alone sent more heat to Y/N’s cheeks.

“S-sorry,” Y/N said quickly, shaking her head, almost as if that would clear her head of the thoughts she shouldn’t be having about her best friend. “Just uh… feeling a little out of it today, that’s all,”

Bev nodded in understanding. “Yeah. Today just… feels weird.”

Y/N nodded in agreement.

The two stayed silent for a few more minutes, before Y/N sat up again. “So, since the boys aren’t coming, we probably shouldn’t wait for them to start swimming, right?”

Bev nodded in agreement, before jumping up and running towards the water, yelling, “Last one in the water is a dancing clown!” behind her, before immediately splashing into the water, getting to a deep enough area, and diving in.

Y/N cursed herself, and then immediately launched herself into the water after Bev, inadvertently splashing her with water as she came out of the water herself at the perfect time.

“Got you!”

***

Y/N shook the water droplets out of her hair, refraining from watching as Bev dried out her own hair, slipping the loose dress that she had brought with her over the bikini that she had worn.

It was now five forty five, and Y/N was going to be expected home for dinner soon. After realizing this, she had reluctantly told Bev that she needed to head home.

Since they lived in the same apartment complex, Bev said she’d go with her.

The sunlight from the sunset bounced off the lake and onto the two girls standing on the beach next to the lake in the Quarry.

Y/N couldn’t help herself this time. She looked up to Bev, and found that she was staring at her the same way, admiring how the golden light danced across her skin, from the top of her coppery red curls to the very bottom of her feet.

Before she could even process what she was doing, Y/N quickly closed the space between her and Bev, pressing her lips against Bev’s.

It only took Bev two seconds to kiss back, relieved that Y/N had been the one to make the first move.

After a few seconds, they realized that they needed air, so the two reluctantly pulled apart, resting their foreheads together.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” Y/N whispered breathlessly.

“It was love at first sight, wasn’t it?” Bev asked. “I saw you with the boys and I knew that it was always going to be you. It’s always been you, Y/N,”

“It’s always been you, Bev,”

The two pulled apart, Bev’s arms still wrapped around Y/N’s neck, Y/N’s hands placed lovingly on Bev’s waist. As she looked into Bev’s eyes, she saw a glint in her eyes that she hadn’t seen before.

The light made Bev’s eyes even brighter than they already were, and the longer Y/N looked at her, the more she fell in love.

“I love you, Bev,” she confessed quietly, feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulder at the confession. “I always have.

[angstyx]

Satisfied

C!Wilbur Soot x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k words

Song: Satisfied [Hamilton]

Summary: You realize you’ve developed certain feelings for someone but so did your best friend

Bolded words are lyrics; [words with brackets around them are changed lyrics]

TW: don’t thinks there’s any?

Requested?: [Yes] [No]

Note: (F/n) - Father’s name (F/l/n) - Father’s last name (B/f/n) - Best friend’s name

Masterlist // Rules for Requesting

───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

“I remember that night, I just might regret that night for the rest of my days. I remember those [nervous] boys tripping over themselves to win our praise."

Niki raises an eyebrow at you as another boy walks towards you two, his friends pushing him towards you and cheering him on. You sigh, knowing how the confession will end.

"I remember that dreamlike candlelight like a dream that you can't quite place. But [Wilbur], I'll never forget the first time I saw your face. I have never been the same."

You were tired honestly. You never wanted to go to this party anyway but Niki was able to convince you to go from the fact that there was going to be food there. Your eyes scan the people who attended, most of them you knew and were friends with. However, one person caught your attention.

"Intelligent eyes in a hunger-pang frame. And when you said "Hi", I forgot my dang name. Set my heart aflame, every part aflame. This is not a game."

You remember your friends talking about him before yet you couldn't pin down a name. Lost in your thoughts, you hear a "hi" behind you, making you jump.

"You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied. I'm sure I don't know what you mean, you forget yourself. You're like me, I'm never satisfied. Is that right? I've never been satisfied."

Turning around, you see the man who caught your attention, he had a friendly smile on his face along with a pair of light brown eyes.

"My name is (Y/n)."

You give him a smile as you introduce yourself, not wanting to give a bad first impression.

"[Wilbur Soot}"

He dramatically bows, making you giggle.

"Where's your family from? Unimportant, there's a million things I haven't done. But just you wait, just you wait"

Although he dodged your question, you quickly brushed it off, not wanting to seem like you were forcing him for information.

"So, so, so. So this is what it feels like to match wits with someone at your level. What the hell is the catch? It's the feeling of freedom, of seein' the light. It's Ben Franklin with a key and a kite. You see it, right?"

You two hit off right away. He seemed like a good guy you thought to yourself. Soon, you told him you had to check up on your best friend who left to get more food to make sure she wasn't doing anything stupid. You couldn’t wait to tell Niki about him.

"The conversation lasted two minutes. Maybe three minutes, everything we said in total agreement. It's a dream and it's a bit of a dance. A bit of a posture, it's a bit of a stance. He's a bit of a flirt, but I'ma give it a chance. I asked about his family, did you see his answer? His hands started fidgeting, he looked askance. He's penniless, he's flying by the seat of his pants."

As you made your way through crowds of people, saying hello to those you knew, you thought of your conversation with Wilbur. You two had similar interests which made you smile. Although he jokingly flirted with you with cheesy pickup lines throughout the conversation, you couldn’t help but wish that he wasn’t joking.

"Handsome, boy, does he know it. Peach fuzz, and he can't even grow it. I wanna take him far away from this place. Then I turn and see my [best friend’s] face and she is..."

You thought of his charming smile and how passionate he was when he talked about something he enjoyed. You then snap out of your thoughts when you finally spot Niki. Walking towards her, she seemed to be staring at something, or someone you think to yourself. You turn your head to see who Niki is staring at but your smirk disappears as you recognize the person.

“Helpless. And I know she is. Helpless. And her eyes are just. Helpless. And I realize. Three fundamental truths at the exact same time.”

You froze, not knowing how to react. You look back at Niki and then at the person she was staring at. Were you annoyed that you and Niki both liked the same person? You weren’t sure yet why were you heading towards Wilbur?

“Where are you taking me? I'm about to change your life. Then, by all means, lead the way.”

You half laugh at his response as you lead Wilbur towards Niki, putting on a smile as you reach him.

“Number one. I'm a girl in a world in which my only job is to marry rich. My father has no sons so I'm the one who has to social climb for one. So I'm the oldest and the wittiest and the gossip in [L’manburg] is insidious. And [Wilbur] is penniless. Ha! That doesn't mean I want him any less.”

You, (Y/n) (L/n), are the oldest daughter of the famous (F/n) (F/l/n), making you the main subject to gossip about. Even though you have feelings for Wilbur, you knew your father would never approve of the relationship. He already had many suitors who wanted to marry you yet you were never interested in any of them, much less wanted to marry one of them.

“[Niki], it's a pleasure to meet you. [Niki]? My [best friend].”

Niki has a wide smile on her face as she introduces herself. She turns to you and gives you a grateful smile, you give a smile back, one that doesn’t reach your eyes but Niki doesn’t notice.

“Number two. He's after me 'cause I'm a [L/n] sister, that elevates his status. I'd have to be naïve to set that aside. Maybe that is why I introduce him to [Niki], now that's his [girlfriend]. Nice going, [Y/n], he was right, you will never be satisfied.”

You were confused about your actions yet you knew why you did them. Dating Wilbur would’ve ruined your family’s name, make your father mad at you for dating a “low class” person, and have rumors spread around about you two and your family. Not wanting that to happen, you chose a different option, introducing Wilbur to Niki.

“[Im glad you’re enjoying the party]. If it takes [attending a party] for us to meet, it will have been worth it. I'll leave you to it.”

You left the two alone but as you were about to leave the party, you turned around one last time to see Niki laughing at a joke Wilbur told her. Your heart broke as you remember that you could’ve been the person in Niki’s spot íntead of her, could’ve been the person laughing at Wilbur’s joke, could’ve been the person who at the end of the night, kissed him. But instead, it was Niki. And your heart ached cause of it.

───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

Taglist: @thenotsohottopic @0-0littlem0-0 @alec-lostboy @bi-narystars @707xn @sakurapartridge @justsomegnomesinatrenchcoat

Send me an ask or dm to be added to my taglist! :)

[captaincoffeegirl515]

What the hell was that last act???

So first of all I want to say that I did enjoy most of the movie. It was okay. The sex scenes didn’t do anything for me though since I’m just not interested in sex at all. But while I more-or-less liked the movie, I felt that the big plot twists in the last act and the ending were badly done because… how the fuck did ANY of them manage to get away with ANY OF THAT??? Like from a legal standpoint it’s just ???

This got so much longer than I anticipated, so the rest is under the read more. And yes, there are so many spoilers. So if you haven't seen The Voyeurs yet and don't want spoilers, please avoid this.

Seb and Julia literally confess to selling their old apartment in order to spy on the people who live there and use them for their art show. Like, yes, they put that clause in the Terms of Agreement for the apartment (which literally no one ever reads) but there is still the matter of Informed Consent. Informed Consent is usually in the form of a contract Pippa and Thomas both need to read and sign, or via verbal questions and answers which is filmed so Seb and Julia would have physical proof of an agreement. This is basically telling them what footage was taken, how it will be used, and if Seb and Julia have permission to share the footage publicly. In Thomas’ case, since he’s dead, his next-of-kin will be asked. Only then are Seb and Julia legally allowed to publicly share and showcase the Pippa and Thomas’ pictures. And Seb is a professional photographer! He should know that!

Have you ever seen prank shows? Like even the ones on YouTube. Have you noticed at the end of some videos, there would be a part where the filmers would approach the person who was pranked and ask if they could use their footage in the video. That’s Informed Consent. They need to ask permission to use a person’s footage in a video or if they need to blur out the person’s face for privacy. Seb and Julia even showed a picture of a dead man for chrissakes! Remember the outcry when that YouTuber posted a video of a suicide victim in Japan???

The Japanese interviewer was right to disapprove of their methods because even though there was a clause in the Terms of Agreement, the prank (because isn’t that what that whole show they did was?) or experiment still resulted with someone killing themself (yes I know it was murder, but the world doesn't know it). They can possibly still be held liable for causing Thomas to kill himself the same way a prankster can be held liable if their victim dies from a prank because of this thing in Law called the Eggshell Rule or Eggshell Plaintiff.

What this means is that a defendant is liable for any injuries caused by the defendant’s actions, regardless of how unforeseeable or uncommon the plaintiff’s reactions to the defendant’s actions are. So for example, there is a scary prank where the prankster jumps out of the bushes and terrifies people. One of them turns out to have a heart condition, suffers a heart attack, and dies. Regardless of the victim’s frailty, the prankster can be held liable for exacerbating the condition and causing the victim’s death. Likewise in the movie, they can say that Seb and Julia, by orchestrating the whole thing and making Thomas see his girlfriend cheating on him, could have caused him to become broken-hearted and kill himself. Therefore, Seb and Julia can be liable for Thomas’ death.

And then here’s the kicker! The famous photographer and his wife, a famous model, both suddenly end up blind AFTER their big art show where they displayed Pippa’s scandal. And not by accident. No. This was obviously surgically done. And NOBODY suspected foul play?? Nobody thought about revenge?? Nobody thought it strange how their blindness was clearly done with a surgical/medical precision nor suspected the couple’s subject, Pippa, who they thoroughly humiliated, who also worked as an optometrist technician at a lab that has the machines that could cause that kind of blindness??? And they're both still alive! They can easily tell the police who did it!

It should have been way too easy for the police to know that it was foul play. Blood tests can tell that Seb and Julia had been drugged. How they were blinded can be traced to the optometry lab. Pippa would be the easiest main suspect due to her connection to them with revenge as the main motivation after they humiliated her in that art show.

And yes, I agree that what Seb and Julia did was wrong. They used Pippa and Thomas, and then murdered Thomas so they can have some juicy story to tell!

Even so, what happened to Ethical Codes in the medical field? What happened to the Hippocratic Oath? Non-maleficience rule? “Do No Harm”? Pippa should have been slammed with, idk, medical malpractice or something, after using her knowledge of the LASIK machine and using it to permanently blind people (which is an actual fear real people have about LASIK surgery), have her license revoked, be fired from her job, and possibly serve jail time. Why is she walking free all willy-nilly and still being allowed to continue stalking Seb and Julia?

I’ll admit though that maybe I’m being more harsh towards Pippa because I myself used to be a Board Certified medical professional (my license expired last year because I hadn't been working in that field for a while) and because of that, her actions angered and horrified me more.

Normally, we as an audience are made to root for the main character or hero, but I found it difficult to do so because Pippa herself is a terrible person. She's a pervert and a creep. She was obsessed with the lives of other people, stalked them, and even went as far as committing crimes in order to fuel her obsession - trespassing, breaking and entering, destruction of private property.

And my goodness this actually makes me think of a few Ben Hardy stans who are like this. Well, idk if going to Ben's school so that she can get a copy of a school film he was in can be considered a crime, but it's still fucking creepy.

Pippa’s got that Savior Complex where she tries to rescue this poor neglected wife from her horrible cheating husband (the same one she herself wants to fuck because she’s obsessed with him). And then when it all goes south, she immediately turns around and blames THOMAS of all people because “he started it”. Like, so what if he did?? He still had enough maturity to realize when they were taking it too far, and decided to stop with the stalking. He told her to stop multiple times but she was too blinded by her obsession and lust for a man that she doesn’t even know.

AND THEN!! She stalked a grieving husband (I know we know that was a lie but Pippa didn't know that) and proceeded to cheat on her boyfriend with said grieving husband. And frankly, I don’t understand why she’s so vengeful about Thomas’ death considering how easily she forgot him so that she could cheat on him. Like. Who knows, maybe he still would’ve killed himself regardless of the poisoned drink because the last thing he saw was his girlfriend cheating on him with the man she’d been obsessed with for the past idk how long. Even in the scene after Thomas died, there was a momentary grief where Pippa was all “it’s my fault Thomas died” but it was all too brief and immediately after she went back to obsessing and asking about Seb. And they want me to believe that she’d want to avenge Thomas’ death? No. I think she blinded Seb and Julia because she was angry at being called out for her obsession. For being told that she was wrong to go that far. It wasn’t about her “love” for Thomas. It was about how humiliated she was about being wrong.

Can you believe that Pippa gave this whole speech with the fable about being content with what you have and not to try to be greedy by wanting more and then she just immediately DOES THE OPPOSITE OF THE MORAL by cheating on her boyfriend because she wanted more aka Seb???

The more that I think about it, I feel like the true villain of the movie is Pippa herself. Her obsession with Seb is what started the whole thing. If she had been able to keep a healthy distance, none of that would’ve happened to begin with. There would be no fights over how far things were going. Seb would have no scandal to tell. She worsened Thomas’ insecurities of not being enough for her, making him go to great lengths just to try to please her. Poor Thomas. He truly deserved better.

Pippa also has awful friends. Instead of stamping down the creepy behavior, they’re giving tips on how to listen in on other people’s private conversations! And then later try to excuse her cheating on Thomas. And then help with her obsession AGAIN.

Acting-wise, I felt that Natasha, Ben, and Justice were incredible and I loved them. I love how conflicted Ben played Seb and how you can see it in his eyes. My favorite scene was the one where Seb and Julia had that confrontation over the wine where Seb asks if she ever felt guilty and Julia just stares right back and stares him down. Natasha was brilliant as Julie pretending to be all friendly and vulnerable with Pippa. Justice was very emotional and I love the scenes where he was horrified at how far Pippa was taking everything. For me, Sydney was the weakest one at acting. While there were some okay parts, her face can be really stiff at some points, like during the sex scenes.

Overall, I thought the movie to be quite thought-provoking especially in this day and age where people can find the most intimate details of another person’s life so easily, be that through Carrd, Instagram stories, Facebook feeds, and other social media sites. It makes you think about parasocial relationships, how people can be so obsessed about people that they’ve never even met, and how that obsession can easily grow into something dangerous that can ruin lives. Good movie, terrible last act. Too much sex for my taste, but then it wouldn’t be called an erotic movie.

Outside of the movie, I really love the chemistry between the four of them. I love watching their interviews and seeing how they interact with each other.

Last but not the least, I know this may be random but my brain likes to zoom in on the weirdest things. How on earth did Pippa manage to get Seb on top of that operating table?? No offense but Pippa is fucking tiny. Seb’s like twice her size and mostly muscle AND unconscious. Like ??? Sorry but that threw me off so much it’s ridiculous.

[i-like-writing-stuff]

four months; part 2 [five hargreeves x reader]

a/n: thank you all so so much for your support and feedback! i literally could not believe that the first part has over 200 notes and yall want a continuation like omagash??? im soft, thank you guys <3

here is the long awaited part two, but before we dive into that, i felt the need to ask yall if you want five to be aged up?? in most x reader i’ve read on this site, five is aged up, but I felt like, in my case, i didn’t really needed to mention that because i am only like two months older than the actor, and its not like im gonna write smut with him- gross. point is, idk. should i age him up tho??? idk what to do, so here are both aidan and timothee to soothe ur heart for this second part!! <3

(the gifs do not belong to me, lemme know if u know who made them so i can give credits- they’re real cute mah gawsh!!!)

alsoo if you want more five imagines or literally any other hargreeves sibling or fictional character ousside tua, feel free to leave a request in my inbox! kisses <3

summary: after a long family meeting and more booze, you decide to make a bold move and profess your buried feelings.

part 1

“Men are stupid shitheads.” You concluded, setting your flask on the counter, looking at the new bangs Allison had just cut for you.

Even in her drunken state, they seemed to be very nicely done. You were quite surprised by the way they turned out, but pleased nonetheless. It was a spontaneous decision, getting bangs. You had been sitting in the hair salon she was working at with her, Klaus and Vanya after a not so great family meeting.

Hugs were shared, true, but then arguments started and before you even knew it, Luther stormed out, Diego followed him, Five went missing for whatever business he had, and Klaus claimed that Ben was not even there- apparently, ghosts can’t time travel.

So, it was just the four of you, drunk in a hair salon, with too much alcohol and way too many scissors around you, complaining about how shitty your love lives could be.

“Amen.” Klaus raised his drink in the air, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Right?” Allison nodded, combing her second client, Klaus, “The nerve of Ray! I mean, one thing goes wrong and he’s on a warpath!” She vented, holding the bottle of liquor in her free hand, “I mean, doesn’t know who I am?! No, no! No, Ray- you know exactly who I am, you just can’t handle it!”

You watched with a raised brow as Vanya was out of zone, pretending to be shooting the long line of empty bottles gathered in front of her, as Allison kept on continuing her rant. Her husband had just seen her use her powers on the night they started the protest, and was now having a real hard time comprehending what was going on. You didn’t see him at home either, so you figured he may have been upset with you as well for maybe hiding the secret. Or maybe he thought you were like her, who knows?

“Hey, wouldn’t it be weird if Five grew up all hot?” Klaus suddenly asked, taking a drag out of his cigarette, as he got up from his seat to walk around the hair salon, “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Why would you even think of your brother like that?” You asked riddled, narrowing your eyes at the man as his sisters almost gagged at the thought.

“Oh, please, you’ve been thinking that, haven’t you?” Klaus asked, pointing at you as you took another swig from your nearly empty flask.

“I... I mean- he’s... Five... uh... no comment!” You suddenly declared, at loss of words, as you got up from your seat, trying to maintain your balance as you made your way towards the bottle of liquor to fill your flask again.

“When are you two gonna confess your feelings?” Allison asked with a groan, letting her head fall backwards as she sat on the chair, “It’s getting really tiring!”

“We have an apocalypse going on!” You argued, “There’s no time for feelings!”

“This is the perfect time for feelings!” Klaus chimed in, taking another drag out of his cigarette, “These might be your last six days on Earth! Do you want to die regretting that you never told Five how you felt about him?”

“I’m not having this conversation anymore.” You declared, out of arguments, as you poured liquor in your flask, “Why don’t we talk about Allison’s crush on Luther instead?”

“We have never even kissed!” Allison defended herself, causing Vanya to spin on her chair confused, looking between the three of you.

“Yeah, but you guys were making little sick moon-dog eyes at each other all through puberty and breakfasts and... all that.” Klaus waved her off, sipping from his own flask.

“Aren’t we all brothers and sisters, or...?” Vanya wondered confused, as you and Klaus snorted amused at her innocence.

“Well... technically...” Allison tried to find an excuse or explanation, but she was having a hard time putting her thoughts in place.

“Technically?” Klaus raised a brow, “If you....” He stammered, trying to regain his train of thought, “If you have to use the word technically, you’re already in trouble.”

“Okay, can we go back to Five and Y/N?” Allison tried to change the subject, “Or maybe at least help me save my marriage?”

“That’s like...” Klaus stumbled on his own feet, filling his flask again, as you leaned against Vanya’s chair curiously, “That’s like asking a nun how to hump someone’s leg! I mean, who in this room knows shit about relationships? This one?” He asked, pointing at Vanya, “In secret love with some farm Frau!”

“Her name’s Sissy.” Vanya informed him.

“Which is an improvement on her previous love interest.” He said, looking at you and Allison, as you shook your heads to slightly tell him to shut up, “...the serial killer.”

“What?!” Vanya yelled, looking between you and Allison for an explanation, but you just softly waved her off, promising to remind her later.

“And look at this one!” Klaus ignored the three of you, pointing at... well, you, “A fifty year old assassin, who got the chance to be a teen again, but she is too afraid to admit her feelings for the... wait, is Five a boy or a man?”

“Both?” You raised a brow, unsure of the answer.

“Meanwhile, I’m carrying a torch for a soldier I haven’t technically met yet, and Luther is in love with his sister.” Klaus waved you off, trying to keep his balance again on his feet.

“Okay, again- we are not biological!” Allison tried to defend herself once more, but Klaus simply ignored her.

“Face it, the healthiest long-term relationship in this family was when Five was banging that mannequin.” He said, making all of you nod in agreement, as you couldn’t help but confess, taking another chug out of your flask;

“I can’t believe I got to the point where I was jealous of Dolores.”

Okay, maybe ‘banging’ and ‘jealous’ were strong words, but you had to admit you were not that pleased when one of the first things that Five did when he got back to 2019, was go to some store to get back his plastic girlfriend who kept him company in the four decades he spent all by himself in the apocalypse.

You understood his mind, though. You would have gone insane as well if you had to be all alone after the end of the world, without another soul on the planet. Nonetheless, you still were maybe a tad too happy when he decided to return her to the store.

Leaving you the only woman he had eyes for, unbeknownst to you.

“I’m gonna tell Sissy that I love her.” Vanya suddenly declared, straightening her position confidently.

“You go, girl!” You cheered, clapping for your friend.

“I don’t want any secrets.” She said, making you and the other two nod in agreement, contemplating about your own lives.

“Yeah!” Allison said, getting up with the bottle of alcohol tightly clutched in her hand, “Yeah, yeah- you’re right! Yes, ‘cause, you know- if this all goes tits-up, the least I can do is be honest with my husband!

“Oh, does that mean I have to face my cult?” Klaus sighed, “I just hate group break-ups, it’s why I stopped dating twins!”

You pondered about it for a moment, in your state that was definitely not the most sober. You had a lot of alcohol coursing through your veins, but you felt like maybe it was better. You could think with your heart more than you could think with your brain, and your heart was telling you that your friends were right.

They all are getting themselves ready to take big risks in their lives, why shouldn’t you? They had a valid point; the world was gonna end in six days if you guys couldn’t find a way to solve this. Last time you didn’t have the brightest plan, so why should this time be a success? Reality hit you; there was a real big chance that you might die.

So why not just be honest with Five? What was the worst that could happen? You manage to save the world and Five rejects you? Big deal!

Well, it actually was a big deal.

“What if he rejects me?” You asked all of a sudden, causing the three siblings to turn to you, “What if I tell Five how I feel about him and he rejects me? I know maybe at my age I shouldn’t be this anxious about a man, but... it’s not like I’m going anywhere, I’m glued to the Hargreeves clan.”

And it was true. After the events of the 2019 apocalypse, right before you and the others got separated, you shared an adorable moment in which you confessed to each other how happy you were to have met and be taken into their family as one of their own.

“Normally, I’d say to not ponder on that for too... long.” Klaus slurred, “But given that it’s Five, you don’t even have to worry about that.”

“He’s right.” Allison shrugged, “That won’t be a problem.

“I have no memory of any of you, but from the hug I’ve seen you two share earlier- you’re not just friends.” Vanya spoke up, making you stare into nothingness for a moment.

I mean, it’s Five we are talking about. If he were to have any feelings, it’s not like he’d be honest with them or act, right? It would be up to you to make the first move.

You let out a long sigh, rubbing your hands on your upper arms, reminding yourself of the hug. It may have been the first time you and Five actually hugged, in all the years you’ve known each other. The way he held you close and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent, feeling you in his arms, even if for him it had been only four days. You had to live with the thought that he may be dead for months.

And you hated that, you knew you wanted him alongside you. You wanted that little rude, at times obnoxious dipshit, with a soft heart- as much as he hated to admit it. You loved how much he cared about his family, about saving the world. Five is a great person; he is caring and has a big heart, as much as he tried to hide it behind his trashmouth.

“Fine!” You groaned, letting your head fall backwards, “I’ll tell Five I fucking love him and his dipshit face!”

“Yes!” Klaus clapped, as Allison and Vanya cheered proudly, “Come here!”

You and Vanya walked towards him, as Allison wrapped an arm around his waist, waiting for the two of you to skip towards them, pulling you into a group hug, as “Twistin’ the night away” by Sam Cooke blasted on the radio, causing the four of you to start a small dance party, letting for the first time in a long while your problems just go away.

For the sake of the song.

After a couple more hours of drinking, gossiping and dancing, the four of you decided to finally part ways and attend your promised business. Klaus went to deal with his cult, as Allison decided to be completely honest with her husband at home and Vanya was going to confess to Sissy.

As for you?

You were going to tell Five Hargreeves you were in love with him.

“Hey, dipshit!” You confidently yelled, running up the stairs of the store, trying to find Five.

“Y/N?” Five frowned, walking out of the kitchen with a coffee mug in his hands and a confused look on his face, “Are you... even more drunk? And did you get bangs- what the...?”

“Shut up.” You waved him off, walking towards him to grab the mug out of his hand to sober yourself up, “Why in the hell are you even drinking coffee at this hour?”

“I’m... trying to calm myself...” He frowned, watching as you chugged his freshly poured coffee.

“Normally I’d ask.” You said, setting the mug on the counter, shaking your head, “But right now what I have to say is more important.”

“Is that so?” Five raised a brow curiously, as you slowly slapped your cheeks, trying to get the room to stop moving, “Why don’t you go to bed?” He asked, gently pushing you towards the couch, “And we talk in the morning? I don’t really have time for this.”

“No!” You yelled, stopping in your tracks to poke his chest, “We don’t have to talk! I talk and you- you listen!” You said, poking his chest again, “You never have time for anything, all you can think of is your stupid apocalypse!”

“Oh yes, isn’t that a trivial thing to be thinking of?” He asked with a sarcastic smile, crossing his arms.

“I don’t need your sarcasm!” You yelled, poking his chest a third time, feeling him get more tense.

“I swear to God, Y/N, if you do that one more time-...” Five took in a deep breath, as he could feel as he was slowly losing his patience.

“Shut up!” You groaned, watching as his brows knitted in confusion, “I’m trying to confess my feelings for you, you moron!”

“W...What?” He asked, as his face suddenly softened, unfolding his arms.

“I’m in love with you!” You sighed, rubbing your face, “Okay? I-I am in love with you and I am trying to sober myself up, but I think I may have had too much to drink.”

“You think?” Five scoffed, slowly leading you towards the couch, “Are you sure you’re not saying this just because you have a ton of alcohol coursing through you?”

“Well... kinda, ‘cause if I were sober there was no way in hell I would have confessed.” You puffed, complying, as you let yourself guided by him, “Allison, Klaus and Vanya all convinced me that I should tell you, that we only have six days left on Earth and in case we don’t save it... I shouldn’t be going down with regrets.”

Five listened to your every word carefully, as you continuing venting about how his siblings spent the whole day trying to convince you to tell him about your feelings, as he slowly held your hands, as you took a seat on the couch. He nodded at your words to let you know that he was listening, as he took two pillows off the armchairs beside, placing them at one end, softly pushing you down.

“...and then Klaus said that he hates group breakups.” You said, not even noticing what was going on, feeling your lids get heavier once your head met the pillow.

“Not a surprise there...” Five muttered, grabbing the blanket that was rested on top of the couch, placing it over you.

“Are you trying to dismiss me?” You wondered, but still making yourself more comfortable, as you sat on your side, with your head facing Five, who knelt in front of you tired.

He bit back a smile, watching as you slowly closed your eyes. He knew you were extremely drunk, he could see that in the way exhaust took over you. Not only you had a lot of alcohol in your system, but you’ve also had some long couple of days, and some longer ones were ahead of you until you knew for a fact the world was safe once more.

“I don’t know how it is, that you’re the one person who actually makes me feel... soft.” He confessed, watching your lips curve into a smile at his words, “You... drunken idiot.”

“I regret nothing.” You said proudly, as Five couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, softly stroking your hair to help you fall asleep sooner.

“We’ll see about that in the morning.” He smirked amused, watching as you pouted.

“You never gave me an answer, you know.” You pointed out, letting his soft touch calm you down, as you felt sleep slowly take over you.

“You never gave me a question.” He retorted, knowing for sure that if your eyes were opened, you would roll them at him.

“I think you like to hear me say that I am in love with you, it’s the third time I have to say it.” You said, slowly placing your hands under your pillow, making yourself more comfortable.

“I am happy to see that you still know how to count.” Five said, placing some wild strands of hair behind your ear.

“Screw you.” You said, making him grin, as he went back to stroking your hair.

“In this whole... shitty situation I managed to get myself into, you, Y/N, might as well be the only thing keeping me sane... surprisingly.” Five frowned at the last bit, watching as you opened your eyes, shifting your head to watch him, “I love you too, moron.”

“I never said I love you.” You smirked, teasing him as he rolled his eyes.

“You little chipmunk...” Five sighed, shaking his head in disbelief amused, as you leaned into his touch more, closing your eyes, pleased with yourself.

“Yeah, but you still love me.” You said, not once dropping that smirk on your lips.

“You’re impossible, did you know that?” He wondered, resting his forearm on the couch beside you, as he knelt on the floor, trying to make himself more comfortable, noticing the way you were enjoying the scalp massage... for free.

“A little bit.” You slowly shrugged, wrapping your arms around his, once you felt it beside you.

Five watched with a soft smile as you pulled his arms closer to your face, nuzzling into it with a satisfied smile, happy that you listened to your friends.

And deep down, so was Five thanking his siblings.

[toyboy-molloy]

reddie + practice date

These were the best nights, when it was just the two of them, Richie and Eddie, snuggled together under a large blanket watching their favourite childhood movies together. It was rare they got to do this anymore, what with Richie being busy with his comedy and Eddie meeting with lawyers finalising his divorce; they made a pact to always set aside at least one day for each other, like the old days. Best of friends.

They were halfway through The Princess Bride when Eddie began to get rather fidgety, occasionally glancing up at his friend. Richie was engrossed in the classic, shoving popcorn into his mouth every now and again. After a little while, Eddie cleared his throat nonchalantly.

“Hey, Rich?” Almost instantly, Richie sat forward and paused the movie, focusing his full attention onto Eddie. The other man was sidetracked by the action, frowning in confusion, “what did you do that for?”

"Eds, I’ve known you for years. I know you wouldn’t interrupt this unless it was something legit,” he smiled at the look on Eddie’s face when he mentioned his hated childhood nickname. He ruffled his hair playfully, “remember when we were fifteen and I said Westley was hot and you threatened to cut my dick off?”

"Oh, yeah,” Eddie mumbled, flushing slightly at the memory; he’d neglected to mention it had more to do with jealousy than anything else. Nevertheless, he continued somewhat nervously, “I just wondered, do you think it’s too soon for me to start...dating again?”

Richie had been dreading this conversation. Of course Eddie would want to start dating the second he was out and proud and free of his ex-wife. He wanted to say ‘no’, tell Eddie that he was wasting his time and he’d never fin anyone worthy of him, but even he knew that was selfish. Eddie was his oldest and dearest friend, he deserved the truth.

“that’s not my say, dude. Only you can say when you’re ready.”

“I think I’m ready,” Eddie contemplated, chewing his bottom lip. Richie had to look away, he was just too damn cute, “the thing is, I’ve never dated a guy before.”

“You’ll be fine,” Richie smiled tightly, trying not imagine Eddie on a date with some other man. He shook his head, “I can’t imagine there’s anyone out there who wouldn’t want to date you.”

Eddie looked up at him, his big eyes wide and hopeful, “would you go on a date with me?” Richie stared down at him in shock, his mouth agape. Before he could open his mouth, however, Eddie was speaking again, practically begging his stunned friend, “please, just so I know what to expect. I haven’t been on a date in years. I don’t know what I’m doing. Please, Richie.”

Jesus, he was so fucked. Richie wasn’t sure his heart could handle helping Eddie prepare to woo other men. But he couldn’t say no to him. Rolling his eyes, he shrugged, “sure, I��ll bro date you. I’ll sweep you off your feet with bromance, man.”

“Really?” At Richie’s affirming nod, Eddie flung himself at him, wrapping his arms around his neck, “thank you, Richie. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he pulled away, smiling, “you don’t have to go overboard, though.”

“No, no, you want a run through of what a real date will be like, you’re getting one,” if this was his only chance, Richie wasn’t about to ruin it. He held his hand out and Eddie took it, the two of them shaking on their agreement, “never let it be said Richie Tozier doesn’t know know how to treat a guy. I’m gonna spoil you like any dude worthy of you should.”

“Wow, I’m already a little wooed,” Eddie chuckled and settled back into his seat to resume the movie, cuddling up to Richie. Oh I haven’t started yet, Richie thought with a smirk as he pressed play.

-

They set a date for the weekend. Eddie had expected to be nervous but as the week drew to a close, he was more excited than anything. Richie told him he’d booked a fancy-ish restaurant and to wear ‘something pretty’. He rolled his eyes at the text but he couldn’t help but smile as he found his favourite suit - the smart blue ensemble he’d worn to Ben and Bev’s wedding reception (Richie had made one or two drunken comments about how good he’d looked that night).

Saturday night came quicker than he’d expected and Eddie found himself pacing frantically in front of his mirror, checking his watch. Richie had gone out hours ago, refusing to tell him where he was going only that he expected Eddie to be ready when he got back. He almost sprinted to the front door when he heard the doorbell chime. Eddie skidded to a halt and tugged on his jacket, taking a deep breath as he opened the door. He greeted by the largest bouquet of flowers he’d ever seen.

“Eddie Spaghetti,” a voice said from behind the flowers, “special delivery.”

“I said not to go overboard,” Eddie took the flowers, unable to stop smiling as he thought about Richie purchasing them, just to make him smile, “but thank you, they’re gorgeous.”

“Don’t get used to it. Most guys won’t make the effort,” Richie adjusted his glasses nervously, watching as Eddie placed the flowers on the kitchen table. And he was wearing the suit that had nearly made him confess everything all those months ago. He didn’t think he’d be lucky enough to get away with it again. He’d been so distracted by staring at Eddie he hadn’t noticed the other man staring at him intently. When Eddie didn’t say anything for a moment or two, Richie glanced down at his own floral-patterned red suit self-consciously, “what?”

Eddie shook his head, blushing, “nothing, sorry, you look amazing.”

Richie blushed, too, lost for words. He offered his arm to Eddie and led him outside towards the car that was waiting for them. Eddie recognised the driver as Steve, Richie manager, who’d clearly been bribed into doing Richie this favour. He mumbled a greeting and set off for the restaurant. Their conversation was casual and pleasant and Eddie found himself relaxing, enjoying himself. By the time they reached their destination, Eddie was holding Richie’s hand like they’d been doing it for years.

-

“A risk analyst?” Richie said enthusiastically, leaning over to swipe another fry from Eddie’s plate, “that sounds so interesting. What does that involve?”

Eddie smiled, “nice try but I’ve been informed my job’s rather boring. I’m more keen to hear about you being a comedian. I just can’t picture it.”

“Eds, baby, you wound me,” Richie playfully clutched at his heart, pouring himself another glass of wine as Eddie chuckled cutely. He didn’t expect to be enjoying himself as much as he was. He didn’t want the night to end, “if you must know, I’m very famous and hilarious. Not to mention modest.”

“I’ll have to look out for your stuff,” Eddie said with a smirk; he was starting to have fun with their little game. Something in the back of his mind was telling him it wasn’t going to be like this with anyone else but he ignored it. Instead, he watched Richie peruse the dessert menu, “if I can remember your name.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure you remember my name,” he said with a wink, snapping the menu shut. Eddie swallowed, taking an urgent sip of his wine. Richie seemed oblivious to his predicament, offering him the dessert menu, “I’m gonna get the chocolate cake.”

Eddie nodded, opting for the banana split. They always shared desserts anyway. The conversation turned casual again as they pretended to ask about each other’s family, hobbies and interests. Eddie ‘learned’ that Richie liked doing impressions and voices, even if he wasn’t that good at them. Their desserts arrived and they naturally halved portions, sharing without asking.

“Okay, real talk,” Richie said, waving a forkful of chocolate cake around as he spoke, “if this was a legit date-date, like not practice or anything, would you let me smash?”

Eddie paused, his own chocolate cake sitting forgotten at the end of his own spoon, “what?”

“I’m just saying, what are my chances here?” Richie said with a shrug, leaning back in his chair confidently. Eddie folded his arms, preparing to lie through his teeth.

“Well, you’ll have to work a little harder than this,” he gestured at their table, “I’m not easy,” he watched as a smile spread across Richie’s face. He waited until Richie was tucking into his dessert again before deciding to torture him a little bit, “but you’re cute, I’ll give you that.”

“You think I’m cute?”

Eddie gave a minute shrug, nonchalantly scooping a helping of banana split onto his spoon before popping it into his mouth, “I wouldn’t kick you out of bed.”

The sight of Richie’s dumbstruck gaping expression was incredibly satisfying and Eddie was going to carry it with him forever.

-

The walk home was nice. The night air was light and gentle but Eddie was too busy concentrating on how big Richie’s hand felt in his. He’d been the perfect date, offering him his coat as they began their walk back to the flat. They’d been walking in silence for a little while, just enjoying each other’s company. But Richie was never one for being quiet for too long.

“so, how did I do?”

“Very well,” Eddie said honestly, squeezing Richie’s hand in reassurance, “I had a great time. I don’t remember the last time I went out and just had fun. Thank you,” he looked up at Richie, smiling warmly, “I really needed this.”

He nodded once, turning away. They were almost home when Richie spoke again, “did you wish I was anyone else?”

“No,” Eddie said honestly, smiling almost sadly, “I don’t think I’d have a good time with anyone else. Which was kind of the whole point really,” they reached their apartment building and Eddie followed Richie to their front door. He was deep in thought, his fears coming back as they reached their home, “it will be different with someone else. I just hope it’s...good different.”

“Yep,” was all Richie said. He immediately headed for the fridge, grabbing the bottle of wine and downing several gulps. Eddie just stood in the doorway, ringing his hands nervously. He wanted to tell Richie he didn’t want anyone else, that everything he’d ever wanted was standing right in front of him trying to drink himself to death. Richie suddenly span around, a desperate look on his face, “hey, you know what would be funny?”

Eddie blinked, confused at the sudden change in Richie’s attitude, “what?”

“If you, like, never meet anyone for real and we keep doing this? Just going out on dates all casual and shit. Wouldn’t that be nuts?”

“What, nothing changes?” Eddie questioned incredulously, moving towards Richie. The other man nodded frantically, replacing the wine bottle on the kitchen side. Eddie folded his arms, “we just keep going on these ‘bro dates’?”

“I’d love that,” thankfully Richie was slightly drunk and Eddie always knew when he was lying if he’d had a drink. He raised an eyebrow, smiling at the cute flush in Richie’s cheeks, “for totally non-selfish reasons, I’d love that.”

Eddie nodded, stepping that little bit closer, “I’d change one thing, though.”

“Yeah, like, like what?”

And Eddie kissed him. Richie, shocked as he was, kissed back with all the enthusiasm of a drunk guy reciprocating his feelings, his hands fumbling to hold Eddie close. The separated when it became apparent that Richie was crying.

“S-sorry,” he sniffed, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his suit. Eddie batted his hands away, gently wiping Richie’s eyes himself...which just made him cry even more, “I just- I legit thought you...you wanted someone better.”

“I think I’d die single if that was the case,” Eddie smiled, his own tears beginning to escape. He pulled Richie into a hug, leaning up to kiss his forehead, “I love you.”

Richie mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘I love you too’ into his shirt. They stayed there in the kitchen, holding each other and swaying slightly as Eddie hummed a calming tune. They were going to be okay.

[valaks]

Hey Valaks! I love your blog and your writing!

Please could you do 1, 10 and 18 for the writing asks?? 🌺

Thank you for the ask! I have added a cut to hopefully not be that person clogging up the feed XD

1. Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

I have a few collabs outstanding like Gemini and a Kabir/Alex sequel to Reunion (It’s rated T at the most so still kid friendly) with Lupin and Devil Went Down to Georgia with Galimau. My utter love for both of my collab partners for pulling me through at a time when I’ve been really struggling. I have a WIPs List but I’ll confess to not having touched most of them in quite sometime (partly from life, partly because I’m not sure how interesting they’d be to anyone else other than me which influences my writing more than I would like to admit):

Good Intentions: Smithers never thought he’d be anyone’s moral compass, he was no angel to sit in anyone’s shoulder but trying to keep Alex Rider from following in the ruthless footsteps of his father or worse his former handler, Alan Blunt is as close to hell as he can imagine. (Wherein Alex becomes head of MI6 we watch his morality slip away form the eyes of an increasingly frustrated and heartbroken Smithers - it all culminates when Alex uses a child “just as an informant, simple information gathering” but hidden behind the charming smile of John Rider and the brutal coldness of Alan Blunt’s words is Alex Rider dying as he says them (Smithers just hopes there’s still a part of the boy he once knew in there to mourn)

Walk the Line: Alex thought he was done with SCORPIA. But they kept creeping back into his life in the most unexpected of ways. He thought he could at least count on it being on the other side until he gets teamed up with Walker, his former classmate and current CIA spy. Unfortunately he still hasn’t been able to figure out whose side Walker is really on - attempted deep cover op like his dad, repatriated rogue spy back on the “good” side, or SCORPIA double agent? He doesn’t know but at least he’s nice....in that obnoxious American way.

Temperamental: (Sequel to Sentimental which isn’t all that popular and you would need to read it for the sequel but basically amnesiac Yassen whose memories stop pre John’s betrayal set during the Stormbreaker mission and features him trying to come to grips with the use of chemical weapons against children and how to handle Alex once he snaps back to reality which is where this starts) Yassen had promised Alex Rider that he would be safe from the world of spying but fate had other ideas. In the days after Sarov’s failed plan, Yassen scrambles to find where MI6 have hidden his wayward charge without drawing Rothman’s attention. A request from one of their existing clients to look into suspicious activity at his son’s former school prompts Yassen to investigate under the guise of offering security. He should have known where there was trouble there would be Alex.

10. How would you describe your writing process?

Lordy do I ever not have a good answer for this. Typically it involves an idea hitting me and then the determination: would this idea work better as a short to post on tumblr (because the set up would take away the tension or would require a multi chapter which is not really my strength), as a prompt to lob out into the ether for someone better and brighter to touch on, or a fic. Once fic is decided I determine whose perspective the fic would be the most interesting from either because it would create the most tension or their internal monologue/background knowledge would add the most to it. Then the summary is written and a title is chosen. If it’s something I’m really passionate about and I already have it in my head I tend to write it all in one go, if there’s more I need to chew on then it’s a series of dates with the Evil Writing App. The final determination is whether it’s good enough for Valaks or if it gets sent to an alt account.

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

Allegedly. I’ll try to go in order of posting -

Ruthless has a sequel where Alex just goes *quiet* once the initial dust as settled it’s unnerving to everyone because they’re not used to having to wonder just what Alex is thinking, at least not behind closed doors but what happened isn’t exactly something that can be recovered from easily, not when Alex isn’t sure who all’s in on it no matter what they’ve told him. Failure is the AU where I considered what would happen to Alex to make him want to torture.

Alibi was originally going to have Yassen show up in the end but I found it far more fascinating if MI6 was just testing Alex so out went Yassen and in went Ben. The sequel to it was torn apart and turned into Warm Reception because I wanted to trope flip SCORPIA comes to Brooklands and decided that it was more logical to have a small fight in Mrs. Bedfordshire’s lobby than anywhere else and I wanted to explore some side characters instead of Ben.

Providence’s sequel thoughts ended up inspiring Gentleman’s Agreement but I did write a small short for it “Yassen and Alex encounter each other on mission. Surprisingly they are working to mostly the same goal - Yassen needs to kill the millionaire who Alex needs to get information from. “I suppose I could answer some questions for you, Sasha. /In Russian/“ “Is now really the time for a language lesson?” he ground out in frustration but the man pointedly ignored him “/Fine but I don’t know some of the words/“ “/Then there is no better way to learn/“

I mentioned the Sentimental sequel but changing Sarov to come first and probable for almost a month before Yassen figures out he’s missing made the most sense. It was also a bit of fun at the Yassen would absolutely take Alex away from MI6....just to throw him in a school and throw away the key. Almost had him send him to Point Blanc but decided that wouldn’t quite fit all that well and wouldn’t be as interesting as if Alex had already gotten his feet back under him with MI6 and now sees that Yassen was right that MI6 would just use him until he’s dead but that doesn’t mean Alex wants to be anywhere near Yassen. Julia Rothman might have other ideas when she finds out what her newest second in command is hiding.

Gentleman’s Agreement.....there’s a lot of thoughts on Sequels and AUs, a lot of them have been written by better people, but that fic was written in 45 minutes so there wasn’t much time to recharacterize or change scenes. It did get Turncoat aka the Alex saves Yassen fic I wanted so badly.

Blood Brothers is a fic I really worked hard on considering how John would feel about his son being thrown into SCORPIA assuming Alex was of age. A rocky marriage was characterization that didn’t quite fit what I imagined would have happened but did fit the story so it stayed in. It was a fic that was supposed to get expanded on - the competition between Hunter and Yassen and Nile and Alex who is desperate to beat his Dad and his “apprentice”. I think two teenagers thrown against each other with a bit of a bone to pick, especially Yassen and Alex who can both hold a grudge even if one runs hot and the other runs cold, would have been compelling and a little fun but the premise and specifically John’s characterization doesn’t quite work out to me.

Found and Legends both have their plotting done but it’ll never see the light of day

Little Moments and Sweetest Thing were my guilty pleasure writing pieces for a while and I have about 1000 DMs of scenes for both of them that are lost to the sands of time and an embarrassing amount of self indulgence

Mates has a follow up ending for those who needed resolution in the comments of it. I’m not sure I did a good job of showing that Tom was in a semi abusive relationship since a lot of people seemed to blame him for him and Alex’s breakup. Most of my headcanons for how their relationship goes have them splitting much sooner just because of Tom’s own home life and either being unable to relate/talk to Alex and drifting away because his Mom throwing a plate at his head isn’t being hung over crocodiles but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt or because Alex is just too dangerous/jumpy to be thrown back into a school environment and lashes out even unintentionally especially not under the pressure of being seen as a failure. School is also a barometer of just how much he’s lost of himself and his childhood, bonus points for Alex being completely upfront with Tom about everything he’s done

In My Sights has an AU where this is all post Christmas at Gunpoint and Yassen is there because he knows Ian is already at Sayle’s factory and will have to be...handled. So two weeks of just getting Alex trained for the protection he might need, connecting him to resources, etc. Ian finding out that Yassen had been there was part of a draft at one point which was included Alex wondering about an all too sincere goodbye from Ian “who never hugged him” but I can’t find the snippet anymore ;__;

A Warm Reception was an alternate version. Originally I wanted it to be Alex watching his last chance at normality slip from his fingers and then the crushing realization that it was something that was his own doing, not even MI6 but Skoda who he had picked a fight with and the accompanying breakdown but then decided that Mrs. Bedfordshire was the right way to go upon writing the summary. Because everyone loves some Outsider POV

Adopted was supposed to be a one chapter throw away trope flip of K Unit adopts Alex. I kept it pretty consistent with Amitai and Lil Lupin’s K Units, tried to add in some more characterization just in how they treated some of the details. It has an alt ending/chapter where they find out Alex is Cub when they pull him from Three’s tender mercies almost by accident. I was persuaded into light humored fluff via guilt trip.

The Truth and Other Deadly Weapons has Ben acting exactly like he think he would in front of everyone but my AU was that this interaction happened in the field and absolutely shattered Ben’s trust in him partly because he had worked for the other side and partly because even if it ‘wasn’t as bad as it looks’ it showed a severe lack of judgment. It also featured several chapters of Alex running into the glass ceiling that is having “Member Malogosto Class of 2004” on your resume. Was going to feature Alex running into Walker as well and into problems within MI6 and the CIA but that was eventually cut and it was kept to one chapter.

Guardian....Guardian holds a very special place in my heart. I was given the prompt of a Monster Fic and I wrote what I knew but the interesting parts were all the ones that come after the story but might come across to a general audience as Hogwarts School of Prayers and Miracles. The plotting done post this was going to feature baby Angel Alex reuniting with his parents but...they were strangers to him and so he stayed with Yassen more and more, followed him, learned from him....it encompassed everything from the dynamics of broken families to reflections on theology and references from the Good Book....which is why it’ll never see the fandom but has a very special place in my heart.

In another, more perfect world Glocking Around the Christmas Tree is the Die hard fic this fandom deserves but as Lupin and I untangled the plot of the movie more and more we just couldn’t make it into anything that would be coherent on paper so it was changed and changed and is now a half finished sad abomination that sits on my works list only because Lupin would kill me if I took it down.

Hot Shot was supposed to feature my current favorite character that is not Nile Abara, John Crawley but I wimped out and changed it at the end because I swore I would write the Crawley fic that we all need. Hear me out: John Crawley knew and worked with John and Ian Rider, was respected by both of them, was recruited by SCORPIA within one year in the field, is the Chief of Staff of MI6, the man who “no one gets a knife in the back without him signing off” and is also the man who walks his dog to check on Alex. There’s a mentorship waiting to happen there, preferably in a nice work study program during college where Alex finally gets to see the repercussions of his missions and Crawley helps try and pull him back from the black mark that SCORPIA would have put on him.

My personal fluffy favorite is the spinoff of Devil Went Down to Georgia where Joe Byrne did pull Alex out post Skeleton Key and brought him home. There’s a pretty extended one about where Tom ends up after Mates. There’s also an actual sequel but ask me no questions and all.

Skipping a few collabs and Febuwhump fics but Burning Questions was just supposed to be Branded - a fic where upon being captured by Razim he is brought in and forcibly branded to differentiate the appearances of Alex and Julius (since Razim has decided to have him killed after shooting the Secretary of State). As a result of the pain levels spiking when Alex actually sees that the SCORPIA logo is branded onto his cheek Razim considers that emotional pain might be something to investigate. There’s a couple thousand words on it, one day I might polish it up.

First Impressions is supposed to be a mirror verse of Alex working for MI6 which includes Three as Blunt, Rothman as Jones and of course Sagitta as K Unit while he’s up against his father as Yassen and Yassen as Crawley. But it was cut down significantly even if the ideas are pretty fun to consider.

Sorry this was probably more than you bargained for but it was fun to get everything out there so thank you for asking

[thatlarainop]

ON THE SURFACE (Benn x OC)

(cross posted on archiveofourown.org)

Chapter 1: Bond

“So, you’re finally finishing your studies, uh?” asked the red haired boy to the other guy, who was slightly taller and muscular than him. Said man looked at him, then shook his head with a discreet smile

“Unfortunately no, Shanks-“ Ben began, while he lighted a cigarette, looking at his younger friend, whom he considered as his little brother. They had known each other for more than a decade, ever since Shanks moved in his neighbourhood as a little boy with his parents. Ben was asked to look after him, since he was little and troublemaker. He was sceptical at first, but after spending some time together he grew affectionate of him, to the point they formed a fraternal bond.

“I’d like to get a doctorate in business, even if it takes lot of time and efforts,” Ben admitted, grinning around his cigarette.

“You aim high, as usual,” Shanks added, smiling softly. “And this is what I’ve always admired of you.”

Ben smiled at that, and ruffled his messy red hair lovingly.

“You should get an haircut though,” Shanks said suddenly, staring at Ben’s long wavy black hair, which were tied in a low ponytail, with a rebel strand that always hung on the left side of his face.

“Shut up.” Ben deadpanned.

-

Later in the afternoon, Ben was alone in a small park, studying for final exams. Usually no one came here, as there was no playground for the children, especially in earlier afternoon hours. There was absolute silence, and Ben was enjoying the calmness of the place. He then decided to go somewhere and eat something, and decided to take a shortcut, since San Francisco is full of them. He then heard loud voices coming from a small side street, and he got curious as he heard the tones of said voices getting more and more aggressive.

He then noticed a girl around his age standing fearless in front of three slightly older and towering men, whom had an ugly grin on their faces.

They made fun of her, called her names and overall humiliated her, but she was standing still and fiercely in front of them. That made the ‘men’ angry, and they started threatening her and even dared to raise their hands to her.

Ben went ballistic and started walking towards them. The girl knew how to defend herself, clearly she had learned martial arts in self-defence. She successfully knocked out two of the men, but Ben got alarmed when he saw the only man standing, perhaps the most dangerous one, holding a dagger behind his back, out from the girl’s sight.

He put himself between the two dangerously staring at the man in front of him. He was a bit taller than him, but less muscular and nevertheless coward. Ben spit his cigarette on the ground, before he fully faced him.

“You know,” Ben began, cracking a grin that was full of disgust and pity for this ‘man’, as the latter spat on him. “I don’t know what’s more gutless: the fact that three of you were against a single girl or that you’re hiding a fucking dagger behind your back.” He concluded calmly, as he felt the woman tense behind him. He didn’t want to startle her more than she already was.

“You are the classic man all hat and no cattle, aren’t you? It won’t take me much time to stab you dead. And don’t worry, that whore behind your back will pay the same price.”

Ben rolled his eyes, before crossing his arms. “If I were all hat and no cattle, as you say, I wouldn’t have joined the army years ago.”

The other man hadn’t wasted further time and he attacked as fast and as powerfully as he could, aiming at Ben’s stomach. But he was stopped in place by his hand and, after waiting a few seconds, Ben twisted the man’s arm behind his back, and brought him to his knees before declaring: “Next time think twice before going up against someone!” And with a punch he knocked him out and then kicked him on the stomach, making him roll without consciousness towards his companions.

Ben sighed before turning to the woman, whose face colour was still drained. His hard expression softened after seeing her so distraught, so he put his hands on her shoulder and shook her gently. “Hey! Everything is alright now. Are you hurt?” he asked calmly, even though he was overall worried. She looked at him more serene than before, the sweet curls of her golden blonde hair falling sweetly all the way towards her back, making her appear as an angel in his eyes. She then cleared her voice and asked confidently: “What’s your name?”

“Ben, Ben Beckman, and yours?” he asked, looking right in her eyes. “Sophie, Sophie Harper.”

“Well Sophie, I suggest calling the police, and get rid of them once for all,” he mused, and she nodded in agreement.

-

They were finally released in the evening, as the three men were officially arrested. Even though the woman at his side was confident and powerful, both physically and mentally as he had witnessed in the afternoon, he could have sworn that she was still upset. And cold, as she was holding her shoulders with both hands and was trembling. Despite this, her expression was still firm, and at the same time gentle.

Ben didn’t say a word as he took off his black jacket and put it gently over her shoulder. She looked up at him in surprise (as he was very tall, and her head could only reach the base of his neck) but didn’t protest, and just muttered a grateful thank you. She felt guilty though, as remained only with his black t-shirt, whereas she had a warm black sweater and a white miniskirt (and she’d damned herself for this choice, since she knew the temperatures would have dropped).

She wanted to give back his jacket, when she heard his stomach grumbling. She laughed heartily, and he was a little embarrassed but still didn’t budge. “I’ve only had breakfast and you know, today has been busy and yeah, I’m hungry.” He joked drily, still finding amusing how ridiculously his jacket looked on her. Still he found her cute.

“Well, I know a pub that is nearby, we could go there and eat and drink something. My treat,” before Ben opened his mouth to protest, she patted his shoulder “you need to grow up, big boy.”

-

“You know what’s curious about you?” Sophie started, as she tied her hair in a knot, “your hair. I mean, it’s so long and beautiful. You can keep it better than I can do with mine. That’s not fair” she puffed jokingly, while taking a sip of her beer. She still had his jacket nearby, it smelled of cigarettes, sea and cologne, smell that she couldn’t forget easily.

He puffed the smoke of his cigarette out, his smile curving around it. “Actually it’s a family secret,” he deadpanned, before adding “my father too has long hair, although his is straight.”

She nodded amusedly, and at the same time couldn’t help but stare at his eyes. Their colour is similar to deer’s, a deep dark brown, a lighter shade of brown lining the edges within an luminescent glow, and they are sharp, full of intelligence and wisdom.

They then started a conversation as they decided to get to know each other better. He told her about his aspirations in the future, whereas she told him she decided to improve her passion and become a professional photographer. She even confessed that she dropped her lawyer studies to do so, much to her family’s disappointment. “I’ve already found someone that pays me for my photographs, and I’ve been asked to take some pictures of the Grandline University, and also to write something about it.”

He looked at her in surprise, as he told her that he was studying there, and was willing to help her. She looked so grateful, knowing that she could have worked with someone she liked. But then her expression became somber as she was staring at the scars in his arms, as they looked old but still painful. She then remembered that he was once part of the army, so she already knew the answer. But she was a stranger to him, to that broad shouldered man that looked so intimidating and yet had a calm and gentle attitude (with her, because she remembered how threatening and dangerous he was with her attacker.)

They continued their conversation, both spoke about their families, but didn’t spend more than a few words about them, both willing to not go into details. Sophie then paid and put herself on his jacket, and they made their way to her apartment. It was late and wanted to invite him inside, but then she thought it was inappropriate to invite a stranger this way. Yet.

She gave him back the jacket, and hugged him as a thank you. He returned it back, and went back to his own flat.

-

The day after they met in a café and had breakfast together, both happy to see each other again, with Ben constantly eyeing Sophie’s professional camera. The 24 years-old girl, she is younger than him by just one year, told him it was her mother’s gift, as she was the only one that backed her decision to fulfil her dream.

They then set out and went to the University. Sophie photographed all the buildings in various perspectives, while Ben told her everything he knew, but at some point she noticed a fountain, exactly at the centre of the compound. It represents a statue of a mermaid, perhaps a princess, and she was quite sure it was made of marble. Ben quirked an eyebrow at her bewilderment, and provided her an explanation. “It’s Shirahoshi, a legendary mermaid. She was also a princess, but what made her even more peculiar was her power. She was said to be the incarnation of the Ancient Weapon Poseidon, but nothing more is known about her. We are talking about something that might have existed more than 1 million years ago, nor is known the real power of this Ancient Weapon.”

She nodded interested, while taking some pictures, and mentally promised that she would write something down about this mermaid.

As the day went by, she noticed how much fast the time has passed, as she was fascinated by Ben’s way of talking and explaining. She couldn’t have imagined a better way of working. A very pleasant company and a large variety of stories and places.

Even Ben was comfortable around her, as she was a quiet presence, except for some pleasant joke every now and then, and a very good and curious listener. He thought that they really had a good chemistry, no one interrupted the other and they were attracted to one another.

When Shanks saw them together, during his date with another girl, he thought that his friend finally found someone that truly made him happy. And he wanted to celebrate, also because he himself had a great girl by his side. Her name was Makino and to him she appeared as beautiful as a mermaid, and nevertheless a kind presence.

-

Some months have passed by, and Ben finally decided to take Sophie out for a date. They went to the same pub they went when they first met. But this time the ending was different.

He took her home to his own flat, which had a double bed, and of course he did spring cleaned. He always claimed he didn’t have enough time to clean everything, but as a matter of fact he was a messy person.

He went to the kitchen and started preparing some tea, whereas she looked around the walls. There were lots of photos, him with his parents, with his friends and a photo of him dressed in his military uniform. He had slight short hair, his muscular chest and arms were well visible beneath his clothing, and he was briefly smiling at the camera. Beside him was Shanks, his friend she got to know, in his civilian clothes and unmissable straw hat.

“Tea is ready,” he announced, with an unlit cigarette in his mouth and a tray in his hands. He saw her poking around, and couldn’t help but smiling. Especially when he saw her spotting a photo taken during his military service. “That was not a nice time,” he said quietly, images of that period flashing in front of him. She turned around, but she didn’t have that look of pity he hated so much. Her expression was soft and sympathetic. “You want to…talk about it?” She questioned quietly. “Sure.”

He was pouring tea in her mug, then looked into her beautiful seafoam green eyes and started talking. “As you might have understood, I’ve been part of the army for a period of my life. To be precise, I was 19 at the time and I’ve wanted to follow in my parents’ footstep. They both were part of the army, both were important pillars of it. I… didn’t want to be any less.” he took a sip of his tea, whereas Sophie was trying to grasp every information he was giving her, holding her breath and waiting for the worse to come.

“And so I signed up, after I graduated high school. I was quite good at it actually, and that’s because my father insisted on training me when I was younger. And everyone knew me, Beckman isn’t exactly an unknown last name in this field. And this is what almost killed me,” he took a pause, while she gulped, eyes getting even wider, as she silently got closer to his, holding his hand. “It was during a mission, I had to save a friend of mine, but I wasn’t careful enough, and the opposing army took me as an hostage.”

He took a deep breath, and he looked at her in the eyes, deer brown meeting green seafoam. He brushed a strand of blonde hair off her face, and then continued: “It was a great opportunity for them, they sent photos to my parents, and even videos of my torture, but… I still refused to tell them the things they pretended to know from me. But I had to pay the price for that as you can see. They split open my left forearm, and even marked my right forearm with a cross. My face, chest and legs were full of bruises and my nose was broken.”

He then pinched his nose to calm himself, before ending with: “I thought I was deemed to die, since they even shot me in the shoulder and thigh, but I was saved by my friends. They successfully tracked me down, and defeated our enemies. They found me tied in a chair with a rope, beaten up but alive. We won, and I didn’t give up until the end. That was my victory,” he whispered, smiling briefly at Sophie, whom had tears in her eyes. “My parents were of course distraught by all of this, and I told them that I wanted to go to university. And now I want to get a doctorate in business. They were of course relieved, and I’ve hugged both of them the tightest way I could, like when I was a child.”

She hugged him, crying in his arms. Ben took her face in his hands, wiped her tears from her face and kissed her lightly. They both were in each other arms, comforted by their own closeness. He then lift her up in his arms gently, and brought her in his bedroom. He gently laid her in his bed and his gaze focused in her clothes. Her wardrobe was always so colourful, kissed by the rainbow, and he especially liked her short sleeved sweater coloured of a rich yellow. They took off their clothes, he put on a condom and passion overwhelmed them.

Making love with him was the sweetest thing she ever experienced. His rough hands were delicate on her body, the kisses they shared were soft and wet. It was her first time, and she did it with a great man.

-

7 Years later

Ben was humming a song while he was preparing dinner for him and his fiancée. Sophie told him she had something to do, but he didn’t know what.

He just came home from work, and was pretty happy since he got promoted and his salary was increased.

“Hey Benny?” called out Sophie, putting on her slippers. She had a very big smile and was blushing a little. He came out of the kitchen with his blue kitchen apron and his hair tied in a low knot. She laughed softly at his appearance and hugged him briefly.

“Why are smiling this way?” he asked, amused despite himself.

Without any warns, she took his hand and put it on her belly, that was a little rounder than usual, and said: “Our baby is in there.”

He was shocked and became a little paler, then he covered his mouth with his hands and supressed the tears welling up in his eyes. He regained his calm attitude and he smiled, while he hugged his fiancée.

-

8 months later

The 33 years-old man was pacing around the waiting room. Shanks himself was nervous, so it didn’t really help him. The red haired man was becoming an uncle!

Ben was in great turmoil, and he was even shaking. His baby girl didn’t want to come out, and his fiancée had been in the delivery room for almost one full day. His parents and Shanks tried to calm him down, but without success. He also received various calls from Sophie’s parents, since they couldn’t come because of the weather., and that didn’t help his anxiety.

The midwife told him that Sophie needed a caesarean section, otherwise she and the baby would have been in even more life threatening. He nodded and sat down on his chair, Shanks put his only hand on his shoulder, to give the man some comfort. Ben was fighting back tears, and looked at his side, where he had located a teddy bear and chocolates. It was the 14th February, it was Valentine’s day.

Time passed slowly, and he was getting even more desperate, he felt a terrible headache and was paler that usual. He was about to go out and lit another cigarette, when he heard a baby cry, and he felt the floor crumble beneath him. He looked at the delivery room and Shanks got closer to him, offering him fraternal support.

He waited now with more hope, until a nurse brought him inside. His Sophie was lying exhausted, she looked paler and had horrendous dark circles, and was panting, her hand holding her chest. “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. Wait there, I’ll bring you your baby,” said the nurse with an understanding smile. He muttered a thank you and sat down near Sophie, stroking gently her sweaty hair.

“Hey, everything is fine now,” she said, once she saw his anxious and worried expression. She even smiled softly when she saw the teddy bear in his arms. Their eyes brightened when they saw the midwife coming with the cleaned and swaddled child. The baby girl was sleeping, and when she was handled to her mother she started fussing, cuddling even nearer to her. Ben stroked gently her head, and was surprised to see that much hair she inherited from him.

Lara was the name they chose, and with her birth she crowned their bond.

[martellthemandalor]

Fight or Flight - Part 2

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: langauge, guns, blood, violence, alcohol, angst

Rating: T (teen)

Word Count: 4.2K+

A/N: Part 2!! Here we are after two weeks, which I’m impressed with becuase uni has been kicking my ass lately. Just a PSA that I mildly hate myself for writing this becuase I hate hurting Frankie. Thank you to @mylifeliterally for beta reading this! As always likes are appreciated, reblogs encouraged and comments are adored :)

If you haven’t already, read part 1 here!

Masterlist

GIF credit: @conveniently-available

Staying away from Frankie was working so far, the atmosphere between the two of you softening as your anger faded slowly with the distance. Everyone was happy with this, the boys starting to properly relax again in your presence and your relief at that knew no bounds.

Things were starting to feel like normal again.

Benny’s fight had gone… well you weren’t entirely sure how it had gone, but he was insisting that he had won and that was a good enough cause for celebration in the group.

The old squad had retired to Benny’s favourite haunt, a small Irish themed pub a few streets from the gym. There you were now sat, favourite beverages in hand, talking as if the last god-knows how many years hadn’t passed at all.

Ben had insisted that you weren’t paying for own drinks tonight, overjoyed that your good luck kiss had worked its magic on him. You certainly weren’t complaining, even if you did start to feel a little guilty as the other boys insisted that they pay for a few too.

Fish didn’t say anything to you but you clocked him slip his own contribution into Will’s hand, muttering something to him. Next thing you knew another bottle had been handed to you by the blonde.

A tiny wave of guilt washed over your stomach as you stared at the drink, offering your thanks to Will who simply gave your shoulder a squeeze in return. He knew it wasn’t meant for him.

The feeling quickly washed away though, replaced with that warm fuzz alcohol provided.

While it was true you had planned to lightly flirt with Benny at the start of the evening, you hadn’t expected it to be as enticing as it was to just… keep going. So, you did.

“So Benny, since when I was your good luck charm, hmm?” You queried lightly, nudging him with your elbow.

“You always were Athena, though honestly you’re more of a good looking charm than anything else.” He winked at you. It caused you, Will and Santi to groan in response.

“Come on Ben that was awful, surely you have better lines that from your other good luck charms,” You said.

“Ain’t ever been any other charm but you Ath. You gave us all our luck on missions and it continued into the ring. Wouldn’t want anyone else,” Benny confessed, all the boys nodding their agreement.

The sincerity of his words sent heat flaring to your cheeks. The boys had often joked that you were some kind of blessed, always knowing the best route out of a sticky situation, knowing when shit was about to hit the fan, knowing how to get everyone to safety even if they weren’t with you. You always said it was just paranoia and a lot of experience, but they insisted it was no joking matter how many times it had saved all your skins. All except… once.

“He’s right you know,” A quiet voice caused your head to snap from where you had been staring at your drink. “I know you don’t always believe it, but he’s right. You saved all our asses more times than I can count.”

Frankie. You stared at him, the heat from your cheeks now shifting to blaze a firefight behind your eyes.

“And yet the one time I needed you to save mine, my luck ran out? Is that it?” You snapped.

Frankie shrank under your gaze, refusing to meet your eyes. You watched his hands fidget with his bottle, fingertip skimming the rim. Then, calmly, in a move that you’d never seen before, he placed his hands flat on the table, keeping them still.

“Do you want to do this now?” He asked, his voice low, level, considered. “It’s been killing the guys to find out what happened to us, so do you want to do this now?”

They all were watching you now, four pairs of highly trained eyes bearing into your soul.

“Is that true?” You asked the group. The blaze in you never softening, the bite in your words not held back.

The answering silence told you everything, very clearly.

“You guys want to know what happened, huh? Is your curiosity finally getting the better of you now that we’re both here?” You sniped. It was all of them avoiding your eyes now, heads ducked away from your firing line.

“Hermana, you don’t have to-” Santiago started, cut off abruptly when you threw up a closed fist.

“No, I think it’s time we got it out there. I’m ready to talk. Frankie, honey, do you want to tell them? Or should I?” Fish squared his shoulders somewhat, but still couldn’t look at you. One hand had closed around his bottle again, knuckles white, gripping it so tight it looked as though it could shatter at any moment.

“Fine. Fish left me to die.” You let the words hang. And for a moment, nothing happened. Like the grace period between releasing the trigger on a hand grenade and the moment of devastation. There was silence.

The once light atmosphere instantly thickened as the words hit each of the boys in turn. It felt like smoke had filled the air around your table, swirling around you and choking up the boys before any of them had even thought of a response.

You pushed through.

“It was my last mission, before I was forced out of our company. We were out in the Rainforest, targeting some base camp. Shit went sideways. We all scattered and that was my call. Me and Fish ended up together, you know we always did. I kne- I thought, that he would always have my back.”

It was true. Frankie had always watched your six, more vigilantly than any of the other boys combined. A natural response, you thought, to being hopelessly in love with someone. It had certainly been the case for you. Your usual sharp surveillance turned up to eleven whenever he was near you on a mission.

“But on that day? That day he didn’t. We were being pursued, shots taken on us at every opportunity. I took out three of the guys behind us. Nine shots. Clean kills. No struggle.” You took a breath.

The squad was hyper focused on you, practically unblinking as you conjured the past into their minds. Even Frankie was staring at you now, mouth pressed into a firm line as he forced himself to pay attention.

He owed you that much.

“We’d made it to the hillside, one of our landmarks for tracking the distance back to the rendezvous. Things got real quiet behind us and I thought, stupidly, that we had somehow out maneuvered them. And then the rock-fall happened.” Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. The memory of the gut wrenching fear so vivid you could practically feel it again, twisting and writhing deep in your belly.

“There were too few and they were too close together to be anything natural. I looked up and there the bastards were. I didn’t even think, just pushed Frankie off the path, down the shallow slope into the undergrowth. I just, wasn’t fast enough for myself I guess.”

You pulled up the left side of your shirt, showing the very obvious bullet wound scar that resided under your ribs. Benny’s mouth fell open, his hand moving towards you, only to swiftly clench into a fist on his thigh.

“I fell. Fell back off the ledge and into the undergrowth with him. Initially it was scrambled calls for med-evac and checking me over and telling me to keep pressure on it. My hearing started to go. Things got distant, but I could make out muffled shouting from above us. Then Fish called into his comm and gave me a look, I had no clue of why he was looking at me that way. Until he left. Left me there, bleeding out on the ground. Dying on the cold, damp earth.”

You cracked then, no longer being able to just play narrator, retelling it from some unfeeling perspective. It was becoming too real, too sharp in your mind as you replayed the event in four-D. You tried to quell the aching urge in your chest to gasp for breath by taking a long swig of your drink.

“I don’t know how long I lay there, in pain and on the verge of giving up, before med-evac showed up and saved me.”

Tears were threatening to roll down your cheeks, your head starting to spin as you battled to keep them at bay.

“Excuse me,” You muttered quietly, flying from the table and into the restroom.

The glass of the mirror was a glacier against your forehead, the smooth edge of the sink below you gliding under your thumbs as you anxiously stroked them across the surface. Your breathing was starting to even out as you used the sensations to ground yourself.

You thought you had been ready to talk about this, especially with the boys. Maybe it was because you had gone about it in a rather hostile way.

That was probably it.

You leant back from the cool glass, watching as your reflection shook her head at you.

“Get yourself together,” You firmly told yourself, “Go out there, apologise and finish the night on a high. Okay?”

The table had gone back to its normally bubbly ambience, the boys talking animatedly amongst themselves.

Your gut did a somersault. They all looked so happy, so carefree, even Frankie was talking happily with them.

You couldn’t stop observing him. The way he smiled and how his shoulders shake slightly when he laughs. His hands were gesticulating wildly when he spoke, the alcohol freeing them from their usual firmly crossed position.

Something flipped in you. The simmering anger that had flowed through your veins at the sight of him evaporated into lingering guilt.

All the tension, everything that had been off about the evening, it had all been your fault.

You took a breath and checked that you still had your phone and wallet in your pocket. You were just going to leave, let the boys have the carefree reunion they deserve.

Shit. Your coat.

Your coat was hanging off the back of the chair that your really didn’t have the stomach to approach right now. You considered making a run for it, just walking past and nabbing it. The problem with that is the boys would instantly notice.

No. Easier to leave it, you can just drop a text to Pope and tell him to drop it at your hotel room later.

You exited the bar quickly, hoping none of the guys saw, and started walking back to your room.

“You left your coat you know.”

Fuck.

Of course Santiago had noticed you slipping away. You stilled, and took a deep breath.

“I- I’m sorry Pope, I just… had to go.”

“You don’t have to apologise, Athena,” Santi spoke softly as he approached you. His arm looped into yours, and as you started walking the two of you fell instantly in step. “It couldn’t have been easy for you to tell us that.”

“No, I do. Not just for unloading that onto you about Frankie, but for being an asshole all evening. I put so much tension-”

“Ath, I promise you that there has been very little tension, things have been great this evening. Anything between you and Fish is between you two alone,” Pope gently squeezed your arm. “Will, Benny and I all knew that things wouldn’t be easy for you two tonight, so I promise you that any ‘tension’ you think you’ve caused was fully anticipated and did not ruin the night.”

The glow of the hotel drew closer with every step and 5 minutes ago the warmth and comfort would’ve been calling to you. Instead, all the warmth and comfort you needed was radiating from your best friend, his words gentle and reassuring in their very nature.

You looked over at him, at the face that had always greeted you on your worse days, and smiled with genuine affection filling your features.

“Thank you, Santiago,” You gave his arm a gentle squeeze, returning the one he had given before. “You always know what to say to me don’t you?”

“I’ve had years of practice, hermana,” He responded kindly.

Pope walked you to the door of your hotel room, even after you insisted that you were more than fine, and left you with a firm hug and a gentle kiss on your cheek. You believed that would be the last you’d see of any of the boys until tomorrow.

Settling in for the night, you were moments away from turning on the TV when a soft rapping at the door was about to prove you wrong.

You padded over to the door and peered through the peephole.

Fuck.

The latch on the door clicked as you opened it for your ex.

“We need to talk.” The words rushed from Frankie’s mouth before you even had chance to take a breath.

Standing for a moment, you studied the man standing patiently in the hallway. His hands were shoved in his pockets, cap pulled low over his face. His stance told you he was nervous, but his eyes betrayed a confidence that you weren’t even sure he realised he had.

“Okay.” 

Standing aside, you held the door open and let him slip past you. You shut the door behind him, leaning against it as the lock engaged.

Fish stood in the centre of the room, smoothing down his shirt before taking off his cap and slowly rotating it in his hands. His eyes were steady on your face, waiting for you to make the first move.

The air between you was thick and heavy. The bed suddenly looked like the most inviting place in the room, so you moved to sit on it, positioning yourself at the headboard. You leant forward and patted the space of mattress at your feet, a quiet signal for Frankie to get comfortable.

There was no hesitation his part, swiftly moving to settle cross-legged at the foot of the mattress. Even now, when you both knew that this was going to bare more of your souls to each other than you ever had before, he was still giving you all the space he could.

“Where do you want to start?” You asked, your voice calm and almost, almost, soft.

“You first. Just, tell me everything, whatever you feel or have felt. Me and you, we were… we were never good at that, we repressed and tried to forget. Especially with this and it broke us. So please, please I want to know, I want to understand.” He was almost pleading with you.

Of everything Frankie had ever asked you, this was the most terrifying of them all.

He was patient. Sitting quietly while you gathered your thoughts, he gave no indication of wanting to rush you. He was right. The two of you had never been good at talking out your feelings. You both tended to bottle them up until they exploded in moments of anger or were thrown into sex.

After a few minutes of quiet searching, you finally formulated a script of your thoughts.

“I loved you with everything, Frankie,” You began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “My entire heart and soul, and do you know where it went? With every passing minute after you abandoned me, every second that I lost more and more hope of you circling back to get me, all my love for you bled out.”

Your hands curled into fists on your thighs, the gentle pinch of your nails digging at your palm grounding you from the rise of unbridled emotion. Frankie kept still, attentively listening to your every word.

“My heart shattered away, piece by piece, with every weakening beat and gushed from my wounds. Its out there, somewhere, Frankie. My love for you is stained blood red onto the jungle floor.” Your voice was starting to crack, the tremors in it impossible to ignore.

Frankie’s mouth fell open a little at that. You could see in his face that he was desperate to say something, but he chose to draw himself back, to keep listening to you.

“I thought getting shot hurt, but it was nothing, nothing, compared to the pain of you leaving me to die alone,” You croaked, your throat constricted with the effort of holding back the rolling tears. Tears which were starting to drip down your face regardless.

“You broke me, Frankie. I can’t date, can’t connect with anyone else. Even if I want to I can’t, because I have this constant fear that they will get up and leave me in the dark,” Your breath hitched as the script changed, a dangerous realisation fighting its way to the front line of your thoughts. “And I can’t date them because none of them are you.”

The reaction in Frankie was instant. Choking on air, his eyes frantically searched your face for any sign of a lie. When he found none, you watched as he forced himself to relax, a shaky breath leaving his lungs.

Your own body slumped against the headboard, the admission winding you completely. All your composure was gone. The puppet string that you forced yourself to follow had been severed. There was no room for acting alright anymore. Not tonight. Not with him.

“My turn.”

Frankie shifted on the bed, looking as though he was going to crawl up to you. Instead, he merely turned a little in order to face you head on.

“You deserve to know the truth. I deserve for you to let me do that. Okay?” He was coaxing you, gently.

Even now, after everything, he was still asking your consent.

Your consent to let him talk. Your consent to let him change your memories. Your consent to finally let yourself feel.

“Okay,” You said quietly, a nod accompanying the small sound.

“When you fell beside me, your clothes slowly darkening before my eyes, my first instinct was to call for Med-Evac. I followed our training, trying to stop the bleeding and giving our location over the comms. But, I… they…” Frankie paused for a second, an unsteady hand dragging down his face.

You leant forward, closing the chasm that lay between you and the man you loved just a fraction.

“I heard them shouting above us. Kill all survivors. It wasn’t good enough that they’d shot you, they wanted us, you, dead. I just knew, that if I stayed there, if I called in Medics, if I showed even one sign that either you or I were still alive down there,” He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight for a moment. His fists were closed too, scrunched up in the sheets that lay beneath the two of you.

You shuffled forward. Just a little.

“Dios. (“God”) They would have killed both of us. In those seconds between hearing them and calling off Med-Evac, my mind ran through every single possibility of how I could get you out there alive. I couldn’t lose you. I couldn’t ever lose you, mi petardo.” (“My firecracker”)

You tried to speak, but Frankie cut you off with a shake of his head.

“I made the only decision that I thought could possibly save you. Let them think you were dead. Leave you and make you seem like a lost cause and maybe, just maybe, you would survive this. It was the hardest decision of my entire life. I tried to tell you what I was doing, but I think shock had set in and you couldn’t hear me at all.”

The tears were escaping down his face now, all attempts at staying stoic failing as the tell-tale droplets fell. Your heart constricted at the sight, the urge to fly to him and wipe them away blooming deep in your chest.

“The look in your eyes broke my heart. You were so afraid and I knew you were about to become infinitely more so. Leaving you there was the worst thing I have ever done, in the whole of my life. If I could ever reverse it, if I could ever switch places. I would do in a heartbeat.”

Frankie’s face was glistening, but he made no attempts to wipe away the continuous stream of tears. It drew your attention to the fact that you too were still crying, unregistered droplets falling down your own cheeks.

Fuck. You wanted to reach for him. To pull him safely into your arms and apologise a million times over for how fucking selfish you had been.

The silence was becoming deafening, echoing in the cavern between you, ricocheting back and forth in a plight to be broken.

Then it was like the gaping space between you vanished. A lifeline was strung across, attached to both your hearts as you both opened your mouths and…

“I’m sorry.”

The words were spoken in complete unison. So much more than just an apology, it was an acknowledgment. Of what, you weren’t quite sure yet.

You tried to speak again, but Frankie spoke over you.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you the truth earlier. I should’ve fought harder to see you when you were so set on not seeing me. Not talking to me. I didn’t want to force myself onto you, into your space. I wanted to give you time to heal. But I- I left it too long. It wasn’t much later that I decided the best thing for both of us was to just let you go.”

Frankie’s silent sobbing was becoming more and more physical, deep, shaking breaths starting to wrack his speech. You found your heart starting to shatter all over again.

Fuck giving each other space.

You practically pounced on him, arms and legs wrapping round him as you buried your head in his shoulder. You told yourself it was because you were trying to hide your own tears. In reality you knew it was because right there is where you felt safest.

It was where you always were safest.

It took a moment for Frankie. It was like his brain stopped working for a few seconds. But once it fully registered that it was you in his lap, his arms circled your body, holding you tight to him.

You felt his face nuzzle into your hair, his tears beginning to dampen the soft strands.

“I was wrong, I was so, so wrong,” Frankie sobbed against you.

“No, shhh, no you weren’t,” You hushed, your hand coming up to smooth over his unruly curls. “I was. I was stubborn and hurting and unwilling to listen to anyone.”

“You were hurting because of me,” He murmured.

“No Frankie, I was hurting because of me. It was my decision to push you first, my decision to not let you see me.”

You pulled back from his neck, moving to rest your forehead against his. Your hands cupped his face, thumbs sweeping over the rosy apples of his cheeks.

“We… we both made mistakes. We both fucked us up. It’s like you said, neither of us were any good at talking out our feelings. This was just the culmination of that,” You breathed it out, the words fanning over his lips that hovered mere inches away.

“I still love you.”

The words were whispered. Barely audible if not for how close you were. A confession so short, yet still held the weight of a thousand bullets.

“I still love you too.”

The parroted words broke down every single one of the walls that you and he had built up over the years. All the heartache, the hating, the yearning, the supressed loving, it all disintegrated in a moment. None of it mattered right now, not now you both knew you had felt it all together.

“Can I kiss you?” Frankie asked. His now words bolder and more assured.

You nodded, momentarily biting you lip before pressing them to the familiar shape of Frankie.

Everything melted away, the room, the world, the past, all with the gentle brush of his lips against your own. It was unhurried, long presses of lips that slowly turned to languid passing of tongues. Relearning what the other felt like, tasted like.

When you finally broke apart, you spent a few minutes in comfortable silence. Your hands glided over each other’s body in the quiet, using feather-light and comforting touch.

“Can we try again?” You spoke the question with firmly shut eyes, afraid that his answer wouldn’t match the one you were longer for.

You felt his hand your chin, gently tilting your head up and encouraging you to open your eyes.

When you did, you found yourself looking into his dark chocolate orbs. The corners of his eyes crinkled just slightly in a way that let you know the smile he wore was genuine.

“Cariño, I want nothing more. But,” Frankie paused, the smiling falling from his face. He pressed his forehead to yours, rocking his head to the side slightly as he did. “We need to be better. Better for each other. We… we need to learn to talk shit out.”

You brought your hands up to move his head, bringing it down to rest in the crook of your neck, cradling it there.

“We will,” You promised. “We’ll be better. We’ll work this out.”

And as you sat there, holding your world in your arms, you knew that you and he finally had the second chance you didn’t know you had been craving.

-

TAGLIST

@din-damn-djarin​

@phoenixhalliwell​

@legili-mens

@jeeperky

@autumnleaves1991-blog

@arabellathorne

[illfoandillfie]

5 Simple Rules For A Successful Fake Relationship: Drive Me Crazy

5 SIMPLE RULES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Summery: The aftermath of your night together. The premiere of The Perfect Match. Will Ben ever let you tell him how you feel?

Warnings: Angst city but it’s worth it, drinking, swearing, idiots who won’t communicate, the usual.

Words: 8392

A/N: So here we are. The end. Kind of. I've still got an epilogue planned and a chapter of moments from Ben's POV but this is the last of the main chapters. I've had an absolute blast writing this story and I am so proud of it and so happy to have gotten this far in it. I hope you enjoy it.

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It took you a couple of minutes after you woke up to remember why you weren’t in your bed but as soon as the memory of the previous night hit you, you felt wide awake. A soft knock on the door made you sit up, head flicking towards the noise as the knob turned and the door creaked open a crack. “Oh. You’re up,” Ben said, obviously displeased, closing the door behind him with his foot, his hands both occupied. He must have had the same thought you did, of him kicking the door shut and pushing you up against it, because his cheeks were flushed as he handed you a cup of coffee and a plate of toast, “I wasn’t expecting you to be awake yet but mum insisted I bring you breakfast.” “Thanks,” you smiled despite his cold greeting. “Right, well.” “Hey, do you want to talk about what happened? We didn’t really get a chance last night but ther-” “No. Not here, not now. I’ll be in the kitchen, take your time.” He was gone before you could stop him. You sighed and looked down at the toast, knowing full well you weren’t going to eat it. Even if breakfast had been your most regular meal you were sure you’d be sick if you ate anything. The sip of coffee you had made you feel nauseous enough. How were you meant to tell Ben you loved him if he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as you? You dumped the unwanted breakfast on the bedside table and got up to start packing. It was easy enough, you didn’t really have that much to find, though your bra had been kicked under the bed in the previous night’s excitement. And the condom wrapper that crunched under your foot, so hastily discarded, sent another pang through you. While you dressed you went over what you wanted to say to Ben. Perhaps he’d soften once you were further away from his family and the scene of the crime. Perhaps the drive would give you time to discuss what you both wanted. With a deep breath you hoped would calm your worries, you picked up the uneaten breakfast and headed for the kitchen. It was empty. You tipped the warm coffee down the sink and put the toast in the compost bin on the bench before poking your head back into the hallway to try to find Ben or anyone else.

A noise from outside caught your attention and you followed it to find Ben, his parents, his brother, and a couple that might have been an aunt and uncle though you couldn’t quite remember. They explained there hadn’t been enough room in the kitchen and invited you to join them. Ben was standing beside you within seconds, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as if he did it every morning. Of course, you knew it was just for show, just because there was an audience to perform for. But that didn’t stop you from savouring it, breathing him in. Then he was telling you to take his seat since he had to shower and pack anyway. You chatted with his family, apologised for not saying goodbye the previous night. Ben had already covered for you, which you found out when his mum waved off your apology and said she understood all about auditions. “Ben always used to be in bed early the night before so I’m not that surprised he insisted on getting you out of the party when he did. Did you sleep okay?” “Yeah, really well.” Lie. Add it to the list. “Good. Wouldn’t want you losing out on a roll because you were yawning too much,” You laughed your agreement and steered the conversation in another direction until Ben emerged again, hair damp, smelling like unfamiliar shampoo. With no spare seat he nudged you to stand, taking your place and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you onto his lap. You smiled as he leaned into your shoulder, trying not to draw too much attention your way lest someone realise your thoughts were stuck on last night, stuck on how he’d felt under you, your palm flat against his chest. Eager hands and harsh breaths, achingly hard, because of you. You blinked back to the present when someone directed a question your way. After a little while Ben checked his phone for the time and, nudging you off his lap, suggested you should leave. Goodbyes were said on the driveway ten minutes later, Angela catching you in a hug and promising to have you back soon, before Ben ushered you into the passenger seat with a reminder that you’d be late if you didn’t leave soon. He tooted the horn as you pulled off down the street and you waved from the window. And then it was quiet. The mood was so different to the trip there. The radio was the only sound but even it was turned down low. You didn’t know what to say. You knew what you wanted to say but not how to go about starting the conversation. Ben kept his eyes glued to the road until you were well away from his family home, as if worried someone might overhear. And then he broke his silence. “Last night was a mistake. I didn’t mean it. Any of it.” “Any of what?” “I’m not in love with you. Never was. It was a mild crush based on physical attraction that got blown out of proportion because we were asked to pretend to date. Last night happened because it had been a while and we’d been drinking. It meant nothing.” You were too stunned to do more than nod along, every word you’d wanted to say disappearing from your mind. It didn’t matter. You were too late. You’d wasted all that time pretending not to care and now that you’d finally come to your senses, he’d apparently come to his too, had the same epiphany but in reverse. It was just a game of make believe taken too far. And you’d let yourself get caught up in it.

The rest of the trip back was torture. If you’d been in a more familiar area you would have told him to pull over and got yourself home, but so far from your usual neck of the woods it didn’t really feel like an option. The one silver lining was that you’d left early enough that the traffic wasn’t too heavy. Not that it made the trip feel any shorter. For his part Ben did seem more open to conversation once he’d got his confession off his chest, but you found it hard to match him, especially since he avoided every topic related to your relationship and the upcoming premiere. The one silver lining was that you’d left early enough that traffic wasn’t heavy. Not that it made the trip feel any shorter. You were still stiff and sad when you got out of the car, a terse goodbye the last thing Ben said before he sped off.

Nothing more was said about it. You didn’t mention how enlightening spending time with his family had been, and he didn’t mention what had happened between you. But you kept in touch, mostly through text. Mary let you know the casting director of the witch movie was interested in seeing you read for the middle witch and you sent Ben an excited message to let him know and ask if he’d help film you. He sent back a congratulations that sounded, to you, less than enthusiastic (certainly, there were less emojis than normal), and an excuse about being caught up with friends. You tried a few more times to engage him in conversation, sending him a photo of your makeshift camera stand that you used to film yourself, and then when that didn’t work, a few memes you’d found funny and a message asking how he was. He replied to all of them and if you’d shown the responses to anyone else they probably would have said you had nothing to worry about, but you couldn’t help feeling they were off somehow. The more you thought about it though, the more certain you were that you should come clean after the premiere. Even if he didn’t love you now, he definitely had before. You remembered what Joe had said about how he was pretending he didn’t feel anything for you. And more than that, you remembered what it had been like when he sobbed on your shoulder at the thought of you hating him, the way he’d whispered I love you against your lips while he was buried inside you, vulnerable and honest. By now you considered yourself pretty well versed in the difference between real and fake and there was absolutely no way he’d been faking those completely raw moments. He was a good actor, but not that good. If you could just get the words out, tell him how you felt, surely that would be enough for him to admit what he’d once felt, hopefully still felt. So, after some back and forth about when would be suitable time to bring it up, you decided that you’d tell him at the afterparty. You’d been sent the details of the night and you’d be by Ben’s side for pretty much all of it. The limo would pick him up first and then you, you’d walk the red carpet together, although some interviews would be done separately, and then you’d go on stage together to introduce the movie before sitting beside each other to watch it. After that you’d leave together and arrive at the afterparty together. It meant you should be able to find the opportunity to get him on his own, pull him aside and just tell him. There’d be somewhere you could go to escape the noise and the crowd and you’d sit him down and force him to hear you out. And then either he’d apologise and say it was flattering but he didn’t reciprocate, or he’d let out a soft thank god before pulling you into a real kiss. Not done because people were watching and expecting it. Done because he wanted to and you wanted to. And then you could tell the studio not to worry about breaking you up. And you could date for real. Go back and visit his family, introduce him to yours and to Felicity, meet his friends, move in together. You shook your head to clear it. One step at a time. No point getting ahead of yourself. You still had to make him listen to you and, if his behaviour so far was any indication, he was going to stubbornly refuse for as long as he could.

The lowest point before the premiere was when Joe messaged you on Instagram. You were surprised at first though on reflection you wondered if you should have expected it. It wasn’t a long message. A simple, can we talk about Ben? followed by his phone number. You called straight away. “Joe? It’s Y/N,” “Oh, wow, that was fast,” You shrugged and then realised he couldn’t see you, “I saw the message come in, figured I might as well call now while I knew you were awake. You wanted to talk about Ben”  “Yeah, it’s….” You hoped he was going to tell you about how madly in love with you Ben was, how he was miserable not talking to you properly, how he was pining for you, wishing you’d come over and kiss him again. “This is a bit of an awkward call.” The hopefulness slipped, creating a sinking feeling in your stomach. “I know what happened between you and Ben.” “I figured you would. How long did he wait to brag or whatever,” “It was hardly bragging, he was a mess. I asked you not to toy with him and then you go and seduce him?” “It’s not like that. I didn’t plan it to happen.” Joe sighed on the other end of the line. “It doesn’t matter anyway because according to Ben it meant nothing.” “He said that?” “Yup,” you wondered how bitter you sounded as Joe paused. “How long before this is all done?” “You mean me and Ben being the tabloid’s sweethearts? Couple of weeks tops. Premiere is this weekend. I wouldn’t expect us to last too long after that.” “Okay, good.” “Is that it?” “Unless you had anything else to say?” You thought about it for a few seconds, seriously considered telling Joe how you felt. He could probably get Ben to hear you out. But who was he to know your feelings? It was bad enough that Ben ran to him with every minor shift in your relationship, why should you do the same? Especially after he’d asked to talk just to tell you off, “Nope. So, if you’re done scolding me,” “It’s a shame. I thought – but I guess not. I can’t wait for all this to be over.” “You and me both.” As soon as you’d hung up you regretted it. But it would be too awkward to call back and ask for help.

The night of the premiere was vastly different from the last time you’d got completely dolled up to go out with Ben. Felicity wasn’t there, though you wished she was. Instead you had a small team of makeup artists and hair stylists ready to spruce you up. Your dress was new, sleek and elegant, and they created a style to match it. If it had been any other week you were sure Ben would have been blown away by the sight of you. His reaction upon seeing you climb into the back of the limo beside him was a stiff complement though the not-as-subtle-as-he-was-hoping once over her gave you was very gratifying, especially when you caught him looking at you, eyes soft and lip held lightly between his teeth, twice more before you arrived at the red carpet. Perhaps there was hope. You certainly wanted to believe there was as you got out and Ben offered you his arm. Together you made your way down the carpet, breaking apart to sign posters and photos for fans, pausing for quickfire interviews, sometimes together, sometimes apart. You talked about who you were wearing and smiled whenever Ben complemented you, returning the sweet words with your own. But there was a tension in the way Ben carried himself, like he was trying to stop himself running away from you and was only barely managing it. And then there was the lack of contact. Where he’d usually grab your hand and squeeze it for support, he instead settled on bumping fingers and pulling away like a teenager on their first date still a little scared of cooties. He didn’t hug you or wrap an arm around your waist as you walked down the carpet, didn’t come any closer than he had to. Even when you stopped in front of a wall of cameras and had people yelling at you to kiss he seemed reluctant. It wasn’t the usual soft, sweet brush of his lips. It was quicker, more self-conscious, like an obligation. Like he’d have gone for a simple cheek kiss if he’d thought he could get away with it. But, if Ben was acting less affectionate, you were acting more so. You found any excuse to touch his arm or lean on his shoulder, any excuse to get a little closer. It was possible you could write his coldness off as stress or nerves about the premiere getting to him, and if that was the case you wanted to be extra warm to make up for it. And even if his demeanour was directly related to a lack of interest in you, it made you feel better to make it harder for him. But it also made you question the sanity of your plan. Was it worth it to tell him? Would you even be able to convince him to join you in a less public area so you could talk? It was an argument you continued to have with yourself the entire night. All the way down the red carpet. As you entered the theatre. Even while you were on stage, beaming at each other as you talked about how proud you were of the movie, how much you’d enjoyed making it and how much you hoped the audience liked it. Watching the film was a slightly surreal experience. You’d seen those expression’s on Ben’s face off set as much as on. The way Andy looked at Edith, the small, shy smile he got when she complemented him, the pleading in his eyes when he was trying to convince her he still loved her, the soft loving gaze as he watched her at their engagement party. You’d seen them all, directed not at Edith but you, Y/N. You wondered if he’d noticed the same things about you. Did your face give away your feelings as much as his did? Had you been looking at him like that without even realising it? You chanced a glanced at Ben, but he was staring resolutely at the screen.

Afterwards you were ushered out of the theatre along with your co-stars, back to the cars. The group split in half, you and Ben leaving with Alfie tagging along. Not that you minded, it made the drive a little more enjoyable than it would have been otherwise. You still weren’t sure what you were going to do and this way you got to escape making a decision for a little longer. But not forever. The car pulled up to a club that had essentially been hired out for the cast and crew to celebrate in. Most people were already there and already a couple of drinks in. You cuddled up to Ben at the first flash of the cameras, hanging off his arm as you headed inside. Now was your chance. The entrance was the quietest part of the building and there was a long corridor that led to a set of bathrooms, completely devoid of other people. If you were going to tell him, that would be the perfect place. But before you could indicate you wanted a private word he caught your arm. “Can I speak to you over here for a sec?” You nodded and accompanied him towards the hallway. The trim was a deep teal colour but the rest of the hallway was one long mirror and for a moment you were distracted by what you and Ben looked like together. “Y/N?” “Yes, sorry,” you said, pulling your focus back to him, “Um, actually, I kinda had something I wanted to say too,” Ben didn’t acknowledge your sentence just bowled on through with his own, “I was going to hold off until later but I don’t want to let something slip after a few drinks or anything like that. I can’t do this anymore. This whole thing was a mistake that I should never have agreed to and I need it to be over now.” “What does that mean?” “Y/N, don’t be difficult.” His sneer was reflected at you from every angle “Who’s being difficult? You know they’re going to break us up in like a week, right?” “Yeah well, that’s too long to wait. I’m breaking us up now. They can still run the story whenever they want to but I am going to tell my parents because I am so fucking sick of Mum asking when I’m bringing you back. And…” he paused as if contemplating the next part, “I don’t think I can see you again, not for a while at least. I need some space to forget this ever happened. I um, I start my new job in a few days so I think they’ll probably use that in the magazines to explain our breakup. And I don’t expect I’ll see you until after it’s finished. If then. So….good luck with that witch movie. Take care of yourself.” He pushed past you back out into the main entry before you could fully understand what had just happened. By the time you found your voice he was gone.

You walked in a daze, out the door you’d only just entered, back to where the cars waited. Your last opportunity, gone. As soon as you were alone in the back of the car you called Felicity. “Are you calling just to brag about how much fun you’re having?” Your voice was steady as you spoke, “Can you come to mine, like, now?” “Aren’t you out at the party though?” “Something happened and I left,” “Honey? What happened, are you okay? Is Ben there?” Hearing his name was like a punch in the gut and you felt your voice shake as it got harder to breath calmly, “No, h-he’s not,” “Okay, I’ll be there in ten.” By the time you pulled up outside the house, she was waiting on the front doorstep with a shopping bag. “I bought ice cream and booze. Wasn’t sure which was more necessary.” “What kind of booze?” you asked as you dug your key out of your clutch, voice thick. “Baileys,” “It’ll do. Think I have something stronger round here as well.” “Here, let me help,” Felicity took the key from your shaking hand and successfully opened the door. As soon as you were inside, she steered you to the lounge room and sat you on the couch. The baileys and tubs of slightly melted ice cream were placed on the coffee table, condensation pooling on the smooth surface. She disappeared for a bit but you, reliving everything Ben had said, only noticed when she came back by the clanking of the spoons on the coffee table. She handed you a glass and you downed half of it in one hit. “Shit, that bad huh? You wanna tell me what happened?” she asked as she took the spot next to you and settled in, legs folded up under her. “I…I think I love Ben,” it was half sob as the magnitude of his words fully hit you. “Isn’t that a good thing though?” You shook your head, trying to keep composed when you realised how much you had to explain. Felicity just looked confused as she took a spoon of ice cream. “It was fake. The whole relationship. All the dates and all the pictures of us and everything was planned out by the studio to drum up hype for the movie.” “Wait, really?” she looked more shocked than you’d expected, “Everything? Even the stuff you told me on the phone?” You nodded, “I didn’t want to keep it from you but there was a contract involved.” “Okay, that’s insane. I had no idea that actually happened! So, all of it was fake?” “All of it. More or less anyway.” “The three orgasms?” “Yeah,” you nodded slowly, not even able to laugh at where her mind went first, “Well sort of. I mean it was only two but it didn’t happened then, it was a bit later and he said…” you broke off again, trying to swallow though your mouth felt completely dry. “Wait, you gotta go back, I’m not following,” “Okay,” you tried to steady yourself but your leg bounced against the floor and your fingers twisted against each other, “The studio set up our relationship and we were just acting the whole time except…except I found out th-that Ben actually did love me,” you had to take another steadying breath, Felicity’s hand shooting out to squeeze your knee reassuringly, “I overheard him on the phone and I freaked out because I didn’t realise I felt the same. I thought it was just the job getting to me and I figured once the studio broke us up it’d be over except then we actually did sleep together for real at his parents place and he told me he loved me during it and I realised I actually do like him and I tried to tell him but he couldn’t even look at me and the next day he said it was a mistake and that he’d never loved me and then tonight he basically told me he doesn’t want to see me again and I don’t know what to do.” by the time everything was out you were breathless and well and truly in tears. Felicity got up to grab you a tissue and when she returned she sat down right beside you, practically on top of you, so you could lean on her shoulder as you cried. Your heart ached at the thought of never seeing Ben again, but Felicity comforted you until you calmed enough to repeat some of the parts she’d missed. Eventually she had enough of a grasp of it to offer some advice. “Why don’t you call him, tell him how you feel?” “You didn’t see how he looked at me tonight. He wants nothing to do with me,” “God he must have been a good lay to make you fall so hard,” You let out a watery laugh at that. “I can’t believe the whole thing was fake and I didn’t pick it. You’re a good actress. Had me completely fooled.” “That was kinda the point. Helped that we both did like each other too. I was just too dumb to see it,” “Nah, you weren’t dumb. It can’t have been easy having to pretend the whole time,” she was silent for a second, stroking your hair, “He’ll come round. You wait, he’ll be calling up tomorrow to apologise for being such an arse.”

But there was no call. Not the next day or the day after or the day after that. You waited, curled up in bed hoping that if you stared at the phone long enough you could force it to ring, but the only calls you got were from Felicity, checking to see if you’d gotten out of bed at all, and one from Mary to go over the details of the break up. Ben had been right, they were going to use his new movie as the catalyst. “Distance is a known relationship killer and Ben is filming outside of the UK so it’ll be easy to sell it as a result of that. Plus, as far as the public know, you’ve had some rocky patches anyway so it shouldn’t take much to convince everyone you’re over.” “Wait, he’s not in London?” “Not from what I’ve heard.” “Do you know where he is?” “Y/N, I’m not his agent.” As soon as you were off the phone you sent Ben a text wishing him good luck with the new movie, but he left you on read. To try and distract yourself you opened Instagram and watched some of your friend’s stories, but it didn’t work for long and you quickly closed the app down. In the first couple of days you’d spent a lot of time scrolling through social media, checking the regular hashtags, seeing what people were saying about you and Ben. To start it had just been a lot of comments, complements and criticism alike, about what you’d worn to the premiere. But gradually the speculation crept in. People could see something was off, even if they couldn’t tell what. Gossip blogs direct messaged you looking for confirmation that you were either still together or, better yet, split up. You saw tweets casting you as the jilted ex, so blinded by love she didn’t see the end coming. Others were sure you had been or would be the one to break it off, sometimes proclaiming it a win for independent women everywhere, sometimes a villainous attack on poor Ben. You stopped looking after that. It just made you more upset and you weren’t sure you could handle what else might be posted. For one thing, you couldn’t remember if there had been photos taken of you fleeing the party not ten minutes after arriving. You had to assume there had been, though at the time you were too distraught to notice. And then there was the idea that someone might have seen Ben pull you aside, might have intended to sneak some shots of you making out in a deserted corridor and instead caught the moment he broke your heart. You definitely wouldn’t be able to cope with that. Just thinking about it sent a wave of despair through you, seeing it would be ten times worse. Not that you had any reason to believe you had been seen but you never knew with these things and it was better to be safe than sorry.

You stuck to your no-social-media guns even after the breakup was officially announced but, unfortunately, all the previous times you’d clicked on article after article, scrolled through tweets about yourself, had impacted things your phone recommended to you and you found yourself being ambushed by photos of you and Ben accompanied by headlines proclaiming the split. The worst came a few days after the news broke when you saw an article about Ben being back in the dating game. According to the website his account on Bumble had been active again for the first time in months. Any notions you’d had about getting over him were proved wrong as soon as you realised what the article was saying. Your chest tightened until you felt like you could barely breathe and the words on the screen began to blur. You sent a link to it to Felicity who called you as soon as she saw it. “It can’t be real, Y/N.” “Why not. We weren’t really dating so what’s to stop him finding someone else now?” “It’s been like three days since it was announced, his PR team or whatever would hate an article like this because it makes him look like a sleezy fuckboy.” “So then it’s not leaked by his people, it’s more likely to be legit.” “Or it’s made up to get hits.” “Maybe he meant it,” “Meant what?” “That he never loved me.” “I very much doubt that.” “How would you know, you never met him,” “No but I saw the photos of how he looked at you,” “Which weren’t real,” “Fine, maybe I don’t know what I’m on about. But you met him, and I’d guess you know him pretty well by now, and to be this torn up about him you must have thought there was a chance he felt the same way.” She waited for you to say something else but, when she was met with nothing but your sniffles she kept talking, “I still think you need to talk to him. Leave him a voicemail if he doesn’t answer.” “I don’t think he’d listen even if I did,” you sighed miserably. “Y/N, honey, I know you’re hurting but you can’t keep waiting for him to call. If you really want to be with him then call him and tell him that. Or forget about him. But either way you have got to stop wallowing like this. I’m coming over tonight and I expect to see you out of bed at least, preferably showered and in clean clothes.”

You’d ended the call just as dejected as when you’d made it, though with the added pain of a headache from crying too much. Slowly you slipped out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen to search for your box of painkillers. Reaching into the cupboard for a glass your fingers brushed over your coffee mug. Distracted from your original goal, you pulled the mug down and stared at it, tracing over the design Ben had painted on it. The purple splatters, the ring, the words. We’re really good at this dating thing. If only you’d realised back then what you felt. You might have actually been with Ben by now. Certainly, if you’d known you would have said something after you overheard his phone call. You’d been standing just a few steps over when you’d heard it, his low voice and the bitter laugh as he told Joe how shit it was to unrequitedly love someone. You hated knowing how right he’d been. But the memory gave you an idea. What you’d said to Felicity was true, she’d never known Ben beyond what he let the public see so she was hardly a reliable judge of character. But you knew someone who did know Ben. Calling him was probably insane. It wasn’t like you were particularly close, and with how your last conversation had ended, it definitely felt more bad idea than good. But, then again, that had been before the premiere, before Ben had gone radio silent, and desperate times called for desperate measures. Quickly, before you could rethink the idea, you picked up your phone and found Joe’s number again.

“Joe speaking,” “Is Ben dating again?” you blurted out. “What? Who is this?” “Sorry, it’s Y/N. Is it true Ben’s dating again?” “Why exactly are you calling me about this?” he sounded completely baffled. “Ben won’t answer or return my texts or anything,” “So naturally you call me. You ever think maybe it’s a hint he doesn’t want to talk to you?” You changed tact, “Do you know where his new movie’s filming?” “Yes but I’m not telling you,” You grunted in frustration. Why was he being so fucking difficult about this, “Look if you just told me I could get out of your hair. There’s something Ben needs to know.” “What sort of something?” “None of your business,” “Okay, well, good luck then.” “Wait!” you paused, listening for the click of the phone being hung up. It didn’t come. “Can I ask one more thing?” “Go on then,” “Did Ben actually love me? At any point?” There was silence for long enough to make you think he’d hung up and then, softly, “Yeah, he did. Don’t tell him I said it, but I think he still does.” “Then can you please just tell me where in the world he is because I need to tell him I love him too and he won’t fucking let me.” “Wait, really?” “Yeah,” “I fucking knew it,” the sound of Joe slapping something in excitement echoed down the line, “I knew it!” “And you didn’t think to let either of us know?” “Well you I’d only just met so I couldn’t be sure. And Ben can be so fucking stubborn sometimes,” “Yeah, tell me about it.” Joe’s laugh was loud and clear, “He’s in Spain. Barcelona to be exact. Give me a minute and I can probably get you the name of the hotel,” you heard some paper rustling, “I fucking knew it.”

When Felicity arrived the next day, she was pleased to see you not only out of bed, showered and dressed, but busily working away at something on the computer. Her happiness slipped into something much closer to disbelief when you told her the plan you’d come up with after your conversation with Joe, but you pointed out that really it was her fault for being adamant that you should talk to Ben. “I can’t just call and hope Ben doesn’t delete the message, I have to make him listen. Otherwise I’ll never know for sure.” “Okay but you know this sounds fucking insane, right? What if he’s not there? What if he refuses to see you?” “Then I come home again as soon as I can and try to move on. Look, I know it’s like completely ridiculous and mad but I have to do something. You’re gonna help me, right?” “Well duh.” The first thing she helped you do was find a good flight. It was a little later than you’d wanted but it took off that night and didn’t stop over in any other countries. You bought a one way ticket just in case Ben wanted you to stay. Once you had it you couldn’t help but laugh. It was fitting, this grand gesture to tell Ben how you felt. The sort of thing you’d expect to see in a rom-com. And considering you’d met on the set of one, had acted out the scene already (though of course, he’d been the one running through the rain to find you in the movie), it made a certain sort of sense that this was what you had to do. Apparently the universe had a sense of humour. The rest of the evening was spent putting the plan into motion, packing a suitcase in the hopes you’d be there at least a little while. Felicity drove you to the airport, talking excitedly about how she couldn’t believe you were actually going to fly to Spain just to talk to a boy. It helped to keep you calm as you oscillated between wishing you could go faster and wondering if this wasn’t a big mistake. When you voiced this out loud Felicity made a frustrated noise, nearly forgetting to break at a red light. “You are not backing out of this Y/N. I swear to god I’ll get on that plane with you if I have to. You’re doing this.” “I know, I know. Thanks,” “It’s what I’m here for. I know how to get my best friend laid.” You snorted your laughter.

There was no need for Felicity to join you on the plane, though she stayed with you until your flight boarded, the nerves only getting stronger. You took your seat and waited for everyone else to find theirs, watching as businessmen and tourists shuffled past you. The two or so hours the flight took was the hardest part. At home you’d had the process of packing and planning to occupy your mind, as well as Felicity’s constant conversation. But on the plane, you had nothing but the entertainment screen and a magazine you’d picked up in the airport. And they could hardly be called distractions. The crossword puzzle at the back of the magazine just reminded you of sitting next to Ben on the flight to New York, the articles made you think about everything that had been published about you over the previous half a year, and the screen seemed to hold nothing but romantic movies designed to make you emotional. You had to grab the sick bag tucked into the seat pouch in front of you at one point, fearing the building anticipation would make you throw up. But you, and the woman in the seat next to yours, were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you landed, vomit free. After that you were moving again, able to focus on each step as they came. Finding a cab, telling the driver where you needed to go, watching the buildings flying past as you drove towards the hotel. You glanced at the time and wondered if it had been a mistake to not wait until morning but the idea of trying to sleep another night without knowing how Ben actually felt was impossible to contemplate. When the cab pulled up outside the hotel you fumbled pulling your card out of your purse, and then climbed out and grabbed your suitcase, hoping it hadn’t just been wishful thinking to pack it. Joe had given you Ben’s room number, so you headed straight for the elevator, counted the floors as you past each one. All of a sudden you were walking down the hall, searching for his room, standing outside his door, knocking on it. There was silence from inside, so you knocked again. More silence. You chewed the inside of your cheek as you contemplated what to do. It was possible he wasn’t in there, maybe caught up with the rest of the cast somewhere. You glanced at the time again. It wasn’t exactly early and there was a do not disturb sign swinging from the door handle, maybe he’d called it a night already and was sleeping peacefully. Third time’s the charm, you thought as you raised your fist to knock again. If he didn’t answer you’d go downstairs and make an enquiry at the reception desk, see if anyone knew if he was in or not. You’d just pulled your hand away again when you heard it, footsteps coming towards the door followed by a deep, familiar voice that said, “I’m coming, I’m coming,”, and then he was tugging it open, mumbling something about not being disturbed. He stopped when he saw you, tired eyes blinking in disbelief, wearing a t-shirt and flannel pyjama pants. Your heart was hammering against your chest as you tried to remember everything you’d planned to say. “Y/N? What ar-” You put your hand over his mouth as your brain kicked back into gear, “You wouldn’t reply to my texts and I didn’t know if you’d listen to any voicemails I left you but I have something I need to tell you so that’s why I’m here. I love you. I didn’t realise it at first but I think I started to feel something after our first date, maybe earlier, I can’t tell. By the time I started to think that maybe I liked you as more than a friend I thought it was just because we were acting like we were in love but then spending time with your family made me realise it wasn’t just pretend, I wanted to be with you. And when we slept together, that just confirmed it for me, I love you. I wanted to tell you that night but you shut me out and then you said you’d never loved me and I didn’t know what to do so I thought I’d wait until after the premiere except then you broke up with me and stopped talking to me and it’s been hell without you. I’ve missed you so much, so fucking much, and all I’ve wanted is to see you again and hear your voice and hug you and I’d really like to date you for real, or at least be friends again because not having you in my life is complete shit.” You stopped and slowly pulled your hand away from him, breathing as hard as if you’d just run a marathon, blinking away the tears that had begun to form. Ben stared at you, lips slightly parted. When he didn’t move, didn’t respond, you began to think you’d made a monumental error, “That’s all I had to say,” you mumbled, already preparing yourself to have the door shut in your face. “Thank God,” he breathed out as he suddenly moved, pressing his lips to yours, cupping your face with one hand as the other pulled your body tight against his. Pure relief flooded your system, as you kissed him back as hard as you could manage, determined to show him exactly how much you felt for him. Together you teetered on the spot, his fingers tight on your waist, yours pressing into his chest and the back of his neck. Even when you stopped kissing you remained standing close enough to see the tears clinging to his eyelashes, both of you breathing hard as you adjusted to the knowledge your feelings were reciprocated.

The creak of a door further up the hallway reminded you where you were. “Are you staying?” he asked softly, closing his eyes, nudging your nose with his. “Is that okay?” “More than okay. I’m so happy to see you.” He broke away for real a few seconds later, though his hand quickly found yours so he could pull you inside his suite. It was nicer than the ones you’d shared in America, bigger, more spacious. Perks of living there for months rather than weeks. You left your bag in the entrance, let him lead you towards the couch. The coffee table was littered with dirty dishes. “Comfort food,” he shrugged when he saw you looking, “I was a fucking idiot.” “Little bit. Can’t say I was much smarter though,” He chuckled at that and followed it up with a sigh, “I’m really sorry for how I acted,” he said softly, frowning a little as he brushed some of your hair behind your ear. You took the seat he offered you, perched on the edge of the couch, unsure how to be comfortable until everything that needed to be said had been. Ben followed suit, taking the place next to yours, your knees pointing towards each other. For a moment neither of you spoke. There was a lot to process, a lot you still wanted to know, and it was hard to work out where to start. Finally you broke the silence, “Why’d you do it?” He understood what you meant, “After that night at my parent’s…. I thought I’d fucked everything up when I said that while we were y’know. After the first time I told you and you nearly ran off, how could you ever want to see me again? And I was so worried I’d never be able to get over you. I thought if I told you I’d never been into you, acted like it, then I could make it true.” “Did it work?” “Of course not,” he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Which is why I pushed you away. I figured it would be easier to get over you if I didn’t have to see you or act like your boyfriend and I knew I’d be coming here so it seemed like a good idea to make a clean break of it.” You nodded, processing what he’d said. Hesitantly he reached for your hand again, pulled it from your lap, closer to him, so he could play with your fingers. You were happy to let him. Ben stifled a yawn, “Sorry. Promise it’s not ‘cause I’m bored,” You realised just how tired he looked. It was late after all, and he’d probably had a long day filming. You yourself felt pretty worn out too, no longer running on adrenaline and anxiety. But there was still one thing you needed to hear before you could relax. Everything else, all the questions that remained and everything you’d need to discuss, it could all wait until the morning except this one thing. “Has there been anyone else?” “Anyone else what?” “I saw a thing about you dating again,” Ben shook his head, “No. I went out with some mates back in London, before I left, and, um, they tried. Said I’d get over you easier if I hooked up with someone else, but I didn’t want anyone else.” It felt like a weight was lifted and you smiled, let your head fall to his shoulder. He kept running his fingers over yours until he yawned again, “Sorry.” “Long day?” “Not long exactly. Just, a lot, y’know.” “You wanna go to bed?” He nodded and yawned again but he waited until you’d got your suitcase before he stood up, watching you the whole time. He’d clearly been in bed when you’d knocked, the blankets out of place, the lights out, and the TV on with the volume down low. Ben replaced the light from the TV with that from a lamp and readjusted the covers as you ducked into the bathroom to change. When you exited the bathroom you found him sitting up in bed, staring at the door. “You okay?” “Brilliant,” he said softly, giving you a small smile. He shuffled down further under the covers as you climbed in beside him, turned to face each other. There was a moment where he seemed almost afraid to touch you, hand stopping short. You just shuffled closer, caught his hand and placed it around you. “You’re actually here, yeah? I’m not just dreaming it?” “I’m here Ben.” “Don’t leave, okay?” “I won’t.” He took a breath and then said, so softly you might have missed it if the room weren’t so quiet, “I love you,” “I love you too,” With that reassurance he pulled you closer still and gave you a soft, lingering kiss.

Ben fought off sleep for as long as he could, eyes slipping shut and then blinking open again until finally his breathing evened out and he dropped off. It was sweet, his attempts to keep you in sight. You still weren’t certain he wasn’t going to vanish in a puff of smoke either. It seemed unreal that you could be there with him, wrapped up in his arms, with no one trying to catch you on camera. That was something you’d have to talk about before long, the tabloids. For the moment they were preoccupied running stories about your breakup but how long would it be before they sought you out for more? And when they found you together, they weren’t going to just let it go. Even now there was probably someone camped outside your house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you with another man or a tub of ice-cream and a box of tissues. How long before they realised you weren’t there? How long before they found out where you’d gone? Ben snuffled in his sleep and distracted you from your worries. It could all wait. You could feel yourself edging closer to sleep, helped along by the steady rise and fall of Ben’s chest, the familiar rhythm of him. A pinging noise cut though the quiet of the room and you realised it was your phone. Carefully, so as not to wake Ben, you extracted yourself from his arms and tiptoed over to your suitcase where you’d dumped the clothes you’d been wearing. Your phone dinged again and then again right as you found it. Y/N, What happened? You have to have arrived by now, did you find Ben? Y/N!!! I’m dying here!!! This silence better be because you’re being dicked down right now BITCH!!! ANSWER YOUR PHONE!!! You laughed quietly to yourself and typed back a quick reply, “I’m with Ben. Been talking. Will call tomorrow.” You’d barely hit send when a new reply came in, “So it worked? You’re together?” “Yeah. For real this time.” You dropped your phone amongst your things and climbed back into bed, snuggling back into Ben’s warm embrace.

[cambionverse]

envesseled (3 of 3): funeral

happy end of our 10th cambiversary day (for real this time), and the end—for now—of new envesseled content. but you may see more sneak peeks of envesseled during the writing process to come, because you guys: this one's a doozy. expect both length and angst.

this snippet comes with a big, major, huge spoiler warning - you know the one. it's basically an open secret at this point. content warnings for death and grief (which should be unsurprising, given the title).

thank you all so much for reading along and for joining us on this monumental occasion. we saved the best for last, so let's make you sad! <3

---

The new snow covers all but the freshest set of footprints. Even though Claire can't actually see Jesse, following him out of Singer's Salvage is easy. The clouds cover most of the moonlight, but white snow is still white snow, putting the silhouettes of trees into sharp relief. It isn't long before she works out his destination—the palo santo tree.

Where Ben is buried.

Claire could stop, now that she knows. Should stop, and give Jesse his privacy. But she doesn't. Like being unable to tear her eyes from a car wreck—part of her wants to see.

The grace protecting the clearing hasn't stopped the little wildflowers from being buried in white. Ben's grave marker could very well be buried too, Claire thinks—but her eyes land on it immediately, a large pile of stones pushed atop a shallow hole in the ground. Jesse, a black shape against the snow, stands huddled before it, bent against the wind or perhaps the whatever ill feeling he gets from the palo santo tree being so close. He stands there for a long time, without moving or saying a word. Snowflakes gather in his hair.

Eventually, Claire goes to join him. It's better than standing by herself, and—he looks so still, there in the snow. Jesse's indestructible, but she just wants to make sure.

Jesse starts when he hears her footsteps, but the hard line of his shoulders relaxes once she's close enough to make out his face. "So much for sleeping, hm?" he asks.

Claire doesn't say anything. The wind whips through the trees.

"I don't know what to say at funerals," Jesse says finally. "I've never been to one. Not my parents', or any of the Simms family—obviously." He shrugs. "I don't know what to say."

Is this Ben's funeral? A sorry excuse for one. He deserves better—but it doesn't matter, Claire reminds herself. None of this matters, none of it is real, because she's going to bring him back.

Jesse reaches into his pocket and produces a large smooth stone. "I've never really visited a grave, either," he confesses. There are tears frozen on his face. "But this is what you're supposed to do, right?" Carefully, so it doesn't fall, he lays the stone on top of the grave. "I don't know, I've never really known anybody who was Jewish except Ben, and I know he didn't keep kosher or anything like that. But the night before we left Cicero, after everything with the djinn, I found him picking out a rock. He said he wanted to leave it on his mom's grave, because it'd been so long."

They'd hung around in Cicero for a few days after everything happened, but Claire remembers now that Ben had disappeared for about an hour the morning they left, claiming he had some catching up around town to do. It was close enough to the truth that it didn't even set off Claire's grace. She hadn't thought much of it at the time—just another thing about Ben she wasn't paying enough attention to.

Jesse turns his head a little. "Can I ask you something?"

Claire crosses her arms, though even the snow doesn't really make her feel cold. Jesse seems to take it for agreement.

"Earlier today," he starts, and something in his tone sets Claire's teeth on edge. "Castiel said something like—it wasn't the first time he healed you?"

That's right, he did say that—and in front of everyone, because of course they all need to know about every horrible detail of Claire's life, she can't go around sharing things with people on her own fucking terms. Not enough for her to crack herself open and let Castiel back inside, is it? All he knows about her—from their time together, and after that—it's his to keep, and he can divulge it at a whim to whomever he chooses. Maybe that's why he brought it up to begin with: as blackmail.

"I thought you hadn't seen him," Jesse continues, tentative. "Since he...since you were young. I thought that was why you left home?"

Claire says nothing.

Finally, Jesse blows out a sigh that fogs the air around them. "All right," he says. "None of my business, I guess. Sorry." And he must be, for Claire feels no pain behind the word.

Still—Claire hurt his feelings, she can tell. After all, it must have seemed like a nice, private moment to divulge a secret. But he's right: it's none of his fucking business. She never told anyone about that night, not even Ben, and she's sure as hell not about to start now just because Castiel spilled the beans. It doesn't matter anymore anyway. None of it matters except getting Ben back. So that this—the grave, the body beneath it, this mockery of a fucking funeral—none of it has to come to pass.

Jesse lifts his head to look above him. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but seems to think better of it, clamping his jaw shut and shaking his head. He takes a deep breath and holds it—to, perhaps, the count of four—and then at last says, "It'll be all right."

Following his line of sight, Claire spies a dark shape among the branches, swaying in the wind. Ben's bracelet, tied firmly around the lowest, closest branch to the grave. Small wonder she didn't hear it, with the rest of the tree sitting here singing so loudly it covers the sound.

She had wondered where it went.

Jesse turns away from it. "I'm freezing," he says finally, and gives Claire an expectant look. "Coming?"

Claire hesitates.

Something in Jesse's posture changes—the angle of his shoulders, perhaps. It's hard to tell in the dark. "All right," he says again. "I'll, uh. Be inside. If you need me."

She suspects it's Jesse who needs her, at the moment—even with the traps broken, he can't possibly enjoy being back in that house alone—but after a long silence, he goes on ahead without her.

When at last he disappears between the trees, Claire looks back up at the bracelet.

How she used to hate that thing, when she and Ben first met—a constant whining at the edge of her subconscious, reminding her that Dean Winchester's boy was nearby, a son in name whether or not that righteous blood was flowing through his veins. But just as she eventually took a liking to Ben, so too did she learn to like the sound. Some nights, after the grace sickness got bad, it was the only thing that let her drop off to sleep. Now it's entombed here just like Ben is, singing its song to no one.

A funeral. What do you say at a funeral?

Claire has only ever been to one funeral: the one she and her mother held a year after her father's first disappearance, just before Castiel. It was for closure, her mother said—to let go, move on, and leave the rest in the hands of the Lord. Even at age eleven, Claire had understood that the funeral was mostly for her mother, and so she let her mother do the talking.

And not two weeks after they laid her father to rest, he turned back up on their doorstep, Castiel and the Winchesters not far behind. The whole time they were letting him go, he was still out there, chained to a comet, lost inside that screaming light and condemned to a fate worse than death.

Claire didn't go to any more funerals after that, not even her mother's. A funeral isn't just letting go, it's giving up. And Claire's not going to give up on Ben, not when he still needs her help. All the years he stayed by her side when she gave him every reason to go, all the attempts she made to push him away that were met with his steadfast loyalty and patience—to repay that with a funeral is an insult.

Claire turns away from the grave. She will not mourn Ben. She will not.

The song of the palo santo grows fainter with each step she takes away from the tree. In her mind's eye Claire sees Ben's easy grin when he explained it to her for the first time, and then the lonely image of it stuck up among the tree branches, condemned to rot away in the elements after all the hard work Ben put into perfecting it. She thinks of the rest of her life, however many weeks or months she may have of it, spent in silence.

Claire stops.

This is not a funeral. This is not Ben's grave. He isn't gone, because she's bringing him back.

All at once Claire whirls, kicking up snow, and marches back up to the tree. It's nearly too high for her to reach, but after two tries Claire's hand closes around the branch and snaps it off completely. She pulls the bracelet off and tosses the branch carelessly to the ground. Now that she's touching the bracelet, she can differentiate its hum from the rest of the tree, and the song flows right up through her palm and into her bloodstream, momentarily cooling down her anger.

Claire's going to have to start wearing a jacket after all, she thinks, even as she slides the bracelet onto her own wrist. She can't let anyone see her wearing this.

She touches her fingers to the wood, and doesn't cry.

It's just like Jesse said: it'll be all right.

It'll be all right.

[merakiaes]

Forgive And Forget - Mario Martinez

Pairing: Mario Martinez x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: You know the drill by now. This isn’t proofread so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. Please let me know what you think!

Wordcount: 2733

Summary: You and Mario have a fight that ends up with you breaking up. He’s determined to fix things before he leaves for college. 

”Come on, (Y/N)! I’m sorry for what I said, okay? Please let me in so we can talk! I love you, mi amor!” There was a pause, but then came his voice again. “We can fix this, right? We’ve been together for six years, it can’t end like this. Please let me in!”

You squeezed your burning eyes shut at the sounds of Mario’s desperate cries, your forehead pressed against your arms where you sat on the stairs right by the front door.

This had been going on pretty much non-stop for two days straight now, ever since you had fought at Spooky’s party and you had run home crying and a broken six-year-long relationship.

Per the instructions of your father and brother, you had turned off your phone in order to be able to ignore his texts and calls, and in the end, he had really gone all out and came over to your house. 

When your family wouldn’t let him in, per the request of you,  he had opted with yelling out for you outside your house like the absolute idiot he was and always had been.

Your family told you to ignore him and focus on moving on, but it was hard. You had been together for six entire years and you were the loves of each other’s lives. At least he was yours. You had been convinced the feeling was reciprocated but now you weren’t so sure anymore.

“Does he ever stop crying?” Your brother’s voice reached your ears as he emerged from the living room, causing you to look up from your arms.

You watched as he walked into the hall with only a pair of baseball shorts hanging from his hips, his hands ruffling his wet hair with a towel. The entire room started smelling of AXE once he got closer, the smell of the soap he had used in the shower he had seemingly just gotten out of.

You could only hum in response, too depressed to even open your lips. Sniffling, you lowered your cheek back down onto your arm, staring into the wall of the staircase as Mario’s cries kept coming from outside.

“Jesus, your boy’s got problems, sis.” Your brother scoffed. “Don’t worry, I’ll send him off. Again.”

Without another word, he tossed his towel to a chair standing off to the side and walked over to the front door with two long strides, unlocking it and throwing it open to walk outside and disappear from your line of sight.  

“Yo, asshole!” You could hear your brother call. “You got to stop this. She doesn’t want to talk to you so leave her alone.”

“I can’t just leave her alone. I leave for college tomorrow and- and-“ Mario was talking in a normal speaking tone now, having stopped yelling when your brother had come outside.

You couldn’t see his face, but you could just imagine the sadness between his beautiful brown eyes, and that picture only made your heart break even more, the painful feeling only intensifying as you processed his words. He would, in fact, be leaving the next day.

“And, and.” Your brother mimicked him in a rude tone, not taking his shit even for a second. “You’re a mess, bro. Go home.”

“Please, I have to apologize.” Mario pleaded, and you could imagine your brother nodding his head to that as he answered.

“Yeah, you do.”

“So you’ll let me in?” Mario’s voice was hopeful, but once again, your brother showed him no mercy, breaking his hope down just as quickly as it got there.

“No.” He denied. “Solve your own problems and stop yelling outside of our house, or we’ll call the cops and have them make you.” He threatened, but Mario didn’t give up.

“Come on, man. Help a brother out. I just need to talk to her.”

“Look, what you did was fucked up and the only reason I’m not beating you to a pulp right now is because my sister loves your pathetic ass but you’re really pushing your luck right now.”

“Come on, how am I supposed to apologize if I can’t get to her?”

“Figure it out yourself. Have fun at college, asshole.” Your brother spat, and you could hear the faint sound of his feet pattering across the stone path leading up to your door now, indicating that he was on his way back.

But he stopped himself, his voice now closer than before as he called out. “And stop crying and grow a pair, man. You’re making a fool out of yourself. It’s embarrassing to listen to.”

When he returned inside, your first instinct was to tell him off for being rude to Mario and lecture him about the fact that showing emotion doesn’t determine a man’s masculinity. 

But you caught yourself last minute, as he turned to look at you, the furious expression on his face reminding you that, right now, he didn’t deserve to be defended.

Your brother read you like an open book as his eyes met yours, sensing the hurt and conflict in your head.

“You don’t need that piece of shit.” He told you as he locked the front door again. “He’s immature and  wouldn’t recognize the love of a good woman if he got it handed to him on a labeled silver platter.”

His words brought a pathetic cry from your lips and you had to strain yourself really hard in order to not break out into tears right then and there.

“Isn’t that exactly how I’ve been giving it to him, though?” You questioned in a whisper, your lip wobbling, and your brother nodded, giving you a look.

“Yeah, my point exactly. He’s an idiot.” He declared. “You’re worth much better.”

“Your brother is right, mija.” Your father agreed as he stepped through the doorway of the kitchen. “I know it’s easier said than done but try not to think about it. No boy is worth your tears.”

He approached you where you sat and you raised your head from your arms once again, allowing your dad to wipe the hot tears from your cheeks. But they never stopped coming.

Your dad sat down beside you and took you into his arms and your brother snorted in agreement, raising a hand to the curtain covering the window of the door and casting a distasteful glance outside. “Especially not Luigi out there.”

You sniffled, using the hem of your sleeve to wipe your nose. “Is he gone?” You asked in a small voice and he nodded after looking around some more.

“Yeah, seems like he finally got the hint. Piece of shit.” He muttered, before dropping the curtain and turning back to you. “Do you want to watch a movie? Eat some ice cream? Mom bought some Ben & Jerry’s yesterday.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together in sadness, remembering you and Mario had been eating Ben & Jerry’s together just an hour before your fight. You never thought such small things would be able to hurt so much.

Shaking your head, you stood up from beside your father on shaky legs, giving your brother an apologetic look. “I think I’m just going to head to bed. I’m not really feeling it tonight.” You confessed.

He looked angry, but he nodded his head, understanding. “I got you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nodded in return and after saying goodnight to them and your mother in the kitchen, you headed back upstairs to get ready for bed. You washed your face and braided your hair, and was in the middle of brushing your teeth when you heard a loud thud from inside your room.

You froze at the sound, panic instantly filling your body. You knew your entire family was home so the risk of someone breaking into your house at this exact moment wasn’t very big, but it could never be ruled out in the neighborhood you lived in.

Calling out your brother’s name through a mouthful of toothpaste foam, you got no response. And not when you called out to your parents either.

As the suspicion was growing stronger in the pit of your stomach, you quickly spit out the toothpaste and washed off your toothbrush, putting it back in its cup, before silently heading for your room, your heart beating violently in your chest.

You could practically hear your pulse in your ears, afraid that someone had gotten into the house, only to enter your room and find your boyfriend pushing himself off the floor underneath your open window.

Your body instantly relaxed when seeing the familiar mop of curly black hair, but the relief quickly turned into anger, your feet steering you into the room hastily.

“What the hell, Mario?!” You exclaimed, closing your bedroom door behind you to not alert your parents. “How hard is it for you to take a hint? I don’t want to see you anymore!”

Mario finally managed to get off the floor, having been tangled in your long curtains and held his hands out in defense, almost as if expecting you to jump at him or something.

“Please let me explain.” He pleaded, which only made the anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach grow stronger.

“There’s nothing to explain!” You yelled at him. “You fucking asked me for a guilt free pass for college, that’s unforgivable. It’s over!”

“No, no, please don’t say that.” He pleaded, taking a step closer to you. “I was drunk. I didn’t mean it.”

For each step closer that he took, you took two backward, the heartbreak that you had been trying so hard to push away for the past two days resurfacing when you took in Mario’s messy appearance; bloodshot eyes rimmed with wet tears, dark circles and his hair a mess, looking as if he hadn’t slept for days. But then again, you hadn’t either, and you doubted that you looked any better than he did.

“Well, you know what they say, right?” You let out a dry laugh, swallowing as you felt a fresh set of hot tears starting to poke at your eyes. “Drunk words are sober thoughts. And if that’s what you’re thinking about when you’re drunk with me, I don’t even want to imagine what you would be capable of when drunk without me.”

Mario looked at you with pleading eyes. “I know it’s not an excuse but I wasn’t thinking straight. The boys got me so riled up about you finding someone else with me being gone and I just let it get to my head. It was wrong and I’m sorry.”

You glared through your tears. “I wouldn’t do that and you know it!” You snapped. “You know how much I love you. Hearing you ask that question, knowing that you’re thinking about being intimate with other girls, it- it fucking hurt.”

You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore and you didn’t try to either, letting out a cry and watching through blurry vision as fresh tears started falling down his cheeks too.

“I know, baby. I know.” He agreed. “And I’m sorry. I know I don’t deserve your trust or your forgiveness but I’ll do anything to earn it back. Yell at me, hit me, anything. Just… please, forgive m-“

Before you could stop yourself, your hand flew out and struck him right across the face, cutting him short as a sharp slapping sounded through the room.

Your eyes widened as soon as you realized what you had done, your hand coming to cover your mouth as you gasped. “Oh my God, Mario, I’m so sorry!” You quickly apologized, wasting no time in cradling his face in your hands.

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling from the pain. “No, I deserved that. I’m glad you got it out of your system.” He objected but still leaned into your touch, drunk from the feeling of your skin against his after having been without you for two entire days.

He opened his eyes and raised his hand to lay them on top of yours, looking into your eyes. 

“I really am sorry.” He sniffled. “I need you to know that just the thought of being with someone else makes me sick to my stomach. You’re the only one for me. I want to marry you and grow old with you. I… I want you to have my babies, one day. I want to live the rest of my life with you and only you, (Y/N). No one else.”

You took a shaky breath, coming down from your angry high. “Do you really mean that?” You asked, feeling the tears drop down from your chin.

He nodded, carefully taking a step closer to you now that you weren’t yelling at him anymore. 

“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.” He mumbled. “I don’t want to leave with us on bad terms. When I come home for the holidays I want to be able to come home to you. You own my heart, mi amor. You’ve owned it since we first met.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you attempted to stop crying. Removing your hands from his face and forcing him to let go of you in the process, you moved over to the bed and sat down, pulling your knees up against your chest.

You lowered your forehead onto your knees and took a deep breath, all too aware of Mario’s eyes following your every move.

“You have to work on your confidence if this is going to work, Mario.” You said, your voice coming out slightly muffled with your head being covered by your arms. “You can’t just do stuff like that every time you get insecure about yourself and worry that I’m going to leave you.”

He was at your side within the next 0.1 second, sinking down on the bed next to you and placing a hand on your arm. You turned your head to the side at the feeling of his touch, allowing your eyes to meet his.

“I know, I know.” He agreed eagerly. “I’m going to get plenty of time to work on myself when I’m away, and I’ll come back a better man for you.”

A small laugh left your lips and your lips tugged into a watery smile. “You’re already the best.”

He shook his head. “I’m really not. But you make me the best version of myself.” He carefully grabbed your arms, forcing you to drop your legs over the edge of the bed and sit up straight.

“I love you, mi amor. So much.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against yours and cradling your jaw in his hand, while the other landed on your thighs.

You looked into his eyes for a moment, sniffling, before slowly leaning your head up to press your lips against his.

He wasted no time in responding, moving his hand from your thigh to the back of your head, his entire body reacting and lowering you down on the bed. Your lips parted and your tongues fought for dominance for a good half-minute, before you pulled apart, out of breath.

Your foreheads connected again, and you closed your eyes, taking in the feeling of the touch of his skin against yours, the warmth of his hands and the smell of his cologne. 

“I love you, too.” You answered, and when hearing the words he had been yearning to hear you speak for two entire days, he buried his face into your neck, smiling into your skin.

After all the crying you had done since the fight, you fell asleep not long after that, in Mario’s arms. But Mario laid awake, staring into the ceiling and thinking about everything that had gone down. 

He didn’t deserve your forgiveness after the stunt he had pulled, and yet you had given it to him with little to no protest. He didn’t deserve your love, and yet you had been there to give it to him every day for six years straight.

He didn’t know what he had done to deserve someone as good as you but he sure as hell wasn’t going to mess it up again. True to his word, you were his one and only, and he was never going to let you go.  

[theonewiththefanfics]

The List (one-shot)

Synopsys: The Reader and Tom have been best friends for years. When she finally gets time off of Uni and comes to visit him and Harrison on the set of Spider-Man: Far From Home, she becomes great friends with all of his co-stars, much to his delight. But when he overhears a conversation between the Reader and them, he can’t help the jealousy that fills his heart. And maybe that was the final push needed for his crush on her to be revealed.

Pairing: Tom Holland x f!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Warnings: SMUT (thigh riding, m going down on f, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, y’all), overstimulation), swearing, and the usual stuff you’ve come to expect from me

Word count: 5636

           “Okay, okay,” Y/N laughed before resting her head against the couch as the group waited for her answer. “Let me think…. Okay… In no particular order – Catherine Zeta-Jones… I mean I’d let that woman do anything she wanted to me. And when I say anything, I mean anything… Zac Efron, ‘cause that look in Hairspray did things to me.”            To that Zendaya snorted. “Dude, I can introduce you two.”            “And you’ll say what – hey this stranger like millions of others wants to fuck you ‘cause you’re on her list? If you’re down, of course.”            Cackling at Y/N’s answer ‘cause it was true, Z motioned for her to continue. “Michelle Pfeiffer, because Queen.”            Z, Harrison, Jacob and Angourie all nodded in unison.            Jacob pressed on. “Two more.”            “Okay,” Y/N chewed on her lip for a moment before settling on the last two people. “Ben Hardy ‘cause Bohemian Rhapsody was a look,” she emphasised the last word, and Anguorie groaned in agreement.            “And Sebastian Stan,” Y/N finished.            Z’s eyebrow raised. “Really?”

           “Okay, listen, have you seen his thighs? Like… I’d ride them into the sunset if allowed. And he seems like such a sweetheart, and he cares so much about his fans, it’s the most endearing thing ever,” Y/N gushed because to be fair, she had been a fan of his since Once Upon A Time, and his version of the Mad Hatter had struck a chord. So, the fact that Tom worked with him, and they had a banter-like relationship made her heart beat faster.            Just like with her friend, she was incredibly proud of him because Y/N knew how it felt to be an outcast, and having heard his struggles of integrating into a complexly new society at the horrible age of twelve made her feel for Sebastian. Teenagers were shitty people. Besides, the fact that there was a possibility she could meet him through Tom, also didn’t help with the slight obsession she had with the Romanian and his thighs.            As the conversation started to dissipate, everyone chiming in on who’s on their list, Tom who’d been standing right outside the door of the trailer finally came in; his hair a completely dishevelled mess, and face a mask of calm with a small smile playing on his lips to mask the jealousy.            “And what is everyone talking about?” Tom asked entering Zendaya’s trailer and flopping down next to Y/N, putting an arm behind the couch. On an instinctual level, she leaned against his side making his heart flutter before all the butterflies were squashed when Zendaya elaborated.            “Her list,” Z said with a smirk pointing at the girl next to him before sipping on her drink despite it having gone stale.            “Oh really?” Tom’s unruly eyebrow quirked up. “Do tell.”           “Catherine Zeta-Jones, Zac Efron, Michelle Pfeffer, Ben Hardy and Sebastian Stan,” Y/N listed off the names while rotating her head from one side to the other and gave him a pointed look of ‘was that good enough? Happy?’            “Ouch, Y/N,” Tom put a hand over his heart in mock hurt, though there was some real pain mixed in there as well. “And no me?”            The girl snorted and rolled her eyes. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know you have hordes of adoring fans that would love to get into your pants,” she patted his leg, “which means you are famous, but to me… you’re just Tom. The same guy I’ve known since being six, and the same guy I had to rescue from a spider two weeks ago… and I have a phobia from them.”            “It was huge!”            “First off, that’s what she said. And second – you call me for help?!” she exclaimed through a laugh. “Do I need to remind you of the zoo incident?”            Angourie’s eyes sparkled at that. “Wait, what’s the ‘zoo incident’?”            “We went to the London zoo a couple of years ago, and in the tropical house one of the big hairy spiders had somehow gotten loose, and Y/N found herself with it on her shoulder,” it was hard for Tom to keep the laughter away at first, seeing as everyone was howling, but remembering the state his friend went into, all happiness evaporated.            “I had a panic attack,” Y/N expanded, shrugging as if it hadn’t been truly terrifying. She didn’t mind the others laughing about the event. Looking back on it, as much as it made her shiver, she knew there was no harm in their reaction, but Y/N would be lying if she said Tom and Harrison not laughing didn’t comfort her a bit. They knew her struggles, so it was nice of them to keep it to polite smiles. “Like to the point they had to call an ambulance because I wouldn’t stop screaming and hyperventilating,” she chuckled, but to elevate Tom’s mood ‘cause he had been so distraught that day, she nudged his shoulder.            “Why do you think Spider-Man’s my least favourite superhero?” Y/N teased looking at Tom and waiting for his usually snarky response, but instead, this time all she got was a roll of his eyes as he diverted his attention to Harrison and bit down on his lip.            Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed at that. Obviously, she didn’t mean it, and Tom knew it. Just because she didn’t have an affinity to the eight-legged spawns of Satan, didn’t mean she hated Spider-Man, let alone Tom as the character. She couldn’t be prouder of him if she tried.            “Tommy, you okay?” Y/N leaned in closer so that only he could hear her. “You know I didn’t mean it, right?”            There was such concern and care in her gorgeous Y/E/C orbs that he had no choice but to melt and push down the jealousy. “Yeah, darlin’. I know.”            He pecked her forehead and gave his full attention to the rest of the group. But deep down a coil of jealousy started to unfurl.

***

           The next day Tom walked into the gym in a sour mood, so much so both Anthony and Sebastian stopped to look, as the boy walked over to the treadmill with slumped shoulders. So completely opposite of how he usually greeted the two with a cheery smile and handshake.            Of course, all the teasing they did was in good fun, no one took it to the heart, but after Y/N had so freely talked about wanting to ride Sebastian’s thighs into the next year, all those things they'd staid kinda stung. Especially because he hadn’t been on the list, and she kept referring to him as her friend.              “What’s gotten the baby in such a bitter mood?” Mackie teased as he added more weights to Sebastian’s bar. “Girl trouble?”            “Actually yeah,” Tom confessed putting the water bottle in the holder, and then he groaned. “Massive girl trouble.”            He heard his two fellow actors sigh. A loud ‘clank’ echoed through the room, and then they were next to him.            “Spill,” Sebastian nudged his chin in Tom’s direction, making him huff and cross his arms.              “Well, she came to visit me while we shoot the movie,” he started leaning against the side of the treadmill, “and she’s getting along incredibly well with everyone which I’m totally happy about, but then last night, Haz, Daya, Jacob, Angourie and Y/N-“            “She the girl?” Mackie needed clarification. Tom nodded and then continued. “They were hanging in Daya’s trailer waiting for me to finish up, and as I was walking over to them, I heard them talking about her… list...”            “Five celebs she’d do if given the chance?”            “Yeah,” Tom confirmed, and Mackie nodded like it was the most understandable thing. “And the thing is… well, I’m not on the list… but Sebastian is.”            A teasing smirk pulled on the brunet’s mouth. “I am?”            “Yes, and I’m not going to go into detail, ‘cause I don’t need those flashbacks,” the Brit immediately said before either man could open their mouths and start pressing for the nitty gritty info. “But when I asked why no me, she said ‘cause I’m ‘just Tom’.”            Anthony shrugged, the water in his bottle sloshing around. “And what’s so bad with that?”            “I’ve been flirting with her for the past three years. We’ve even kissed! And we both were sober when we did it!” Tom groaned throwing his head back in frustration. “I just don’t understand it...”            Anthony had a sympathetic look on his face, because again – all the teasing came from a place of love and respect, but there was nothing fun in seeing Tom so helpless and beaten down. “Have you considered that she just might not see you that way?”           “Like a celebrity? Yeah, no she said she doesn’t care about this whole Marvel shit and all, that I’m just Tom to her, but…” he huffed, “that’s what’s bothering me. I’m ‘just Tom’ and I don’t wanna be ‘just Tom’. I wanna be more.”            “Or,” Sebastian raised his eyebrows at Anthony in a way that said ‘don’t completely crush the kid’, “she could be completely oblivious to what you're doing. Listen,” he straightened out and wiped away a trail of sweat from his forehead, “I was once trying to flirt with a girl, a friend of mine, much like Y/N is yours, and I thought I was being very obvious. Which I was, but the problem wasn’t with the hints, it was that she was totally clueless. It took me actually saying to her face ‘hey, I really like you, and I wanna take you out for dinner, and maybe have a relationship with you’ before she caught on.”            Tom bit at the inside of his cheek before looking up at the two men. “Do you really think that could be it? That she’s just not picking up on the hints?”            “I dunno, man,” Sebastian shrugged, and Mackie had the same unknowing look on his face. “What do you have to lose though?” With that said, the two retreated to resume their workout but kept a close eye on the boy.            “Her,” Tom whispered under his breath as he thought over the advice and got prepared to run. “I have everything to lose.”

***

           It was almost two weeks after the conversation about the list, and Y/N’s time in Austin was running out before she had to get back to London and Uni. Which meant Tom’s time to confess was running out as well. Who knows who she could meet while back in England, and while he was stuck filming?            Once again, they were all hanging out, now with the addition of Tony, which didn’t help Tom’s mood despite everyone relaxing. Y/N’s list had been brought up again, and although the two were gushing over Catherine Zeta-Jones and how Michael Douglas should watch out, all Tom could think of was how she had practically drooled over Sebastian and his thighs.            “We should all go out clubbing!” Z suddenly exclaimed jumping up from the couch and grabbing her purse, bringing Tom out of his wallowing.            “And that’s my cue to leave,” was Y/N’s response to the invitation.            A plethora of ‘no’ and ‘boo, you bore’ and ‘what!’ rung through the room, but she just shook her head with an affectionate smile. “Clubs are not my scene, like whatsoever. Just ask Tom and Haz how many times they’ve tried and failed to get me out on a Friday night.”            Everyone’s expecting eyes befell on the boys. Harrison was the one to respond. “All of them.”            Y/N just raised her shoulders. “I’m a bore, what can I say.”            While a few of their gang still tried to coerce her to join, she was steadfast on going back to the hotel and getting some sleep. As she stood up from where she had been nestled in Tom’s side, her hips and spine popped making her release a satisfied groan, but that also drew Tom’s attention, specifically to how her bright yellow sundress rode up her body a bit. It took everything in him not to moan at how soft the back of her thighs looked, but ever the good friend, he stood up as well and told her he’d drive her to the hotel.            “Come on,” Y/N sighed giving him a smile, “I can just call a taxi. I don’t wanna keep you from all the fun, just because I’m a buzzkill.”            Tom just shook his head, dead set on getting her there. “I invited you all the way out here. What kind of a best friend would I be if I let you just leave on your own?”            “A normal one that doesn’t want to miss out on all of the fun with his other friends?”            “Or a normal one that wants to make sure his friend gets back to her hotel safely?”            Y/N chuckled as the two of them made their way downstairs and to his car. “And a taxi wouldn’t do that?”            “Nope,” Tom smirked and skipped ahead opening the door for her. But that’s where the light-heartedness ended. The second he was in the car and the ignition was on, a tense atmosphere rolled over them.            He wouldn’t speak to her, instead just kept pursing and biting his lips while Y/N kept glancing at her friend, but he wouldn’t even spare a second.        She had talked to Harrison about Tom acting a bit off the past couple of weeks, and although the two were best friends as well, she was definitely closer with the brunet than the blond.            “I dunno,” Harrison had shrugged. “He’s acting off, I won’t deny that, but he hasn’t said that anything’s bothering him.”            Y/N rolled her eyes. “Of course, something's bothering him.”            “But what can we do unless he talks about it?” Harrison shrugged.            And he was right. If Tom wouldn’t say what was wrong or why he was pushing the two of them away, she didn’t know how to help. So, when he stopped in the car park of her hotel, the two moving up to her room with that awkward silence still between them like a wall, she had had enough.            “Are you okay?” Y/N asked biting her lip and crossing her arms after she dropped her purse onto the sofa. Tom had gotten her the VIP suite much to her chagrin, but even being as exhausted and upset as she was now, the bed seemed lumpy and uninviting. “You’ve been pulling away, and I don’t know what I did wrong, but I need you to tell me so I can fix it.”            “Nothing’s wrong,” he mumbled brushing a hand through his hair. “I dunno what you’re on about.”            Frustration was boiling in her veins. “No there is something wrong. You’ve been off since that night in Z’s trailer.” And then it dawned on her. “Tom, you know it was a joke, right? About hating Spider-Man.” Y/N was terrified he had actually taken the comment to the heart. As she was about to reach out for him, wrap the boy in her embrace he took a step back.            “You think it’s about that?” his eyebrows shot up so high in his forehead they almost disappeared in his hairline. “Un-fucking-believable.”            Y/N scoffed. “I’m not a fucking mind reader. So, unless you tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help.”            “You know what,” Tom closed his eyes and raised his hands in dismissal, “forget about it. Doesn’t fucking matter.”            “Of course, it does! We are best fucking friends!” she exclaimed unable to comprehend why Tom was pushing her away. “And I care for you! We tell everything to each other, so fucking talk to me!”            “I don’t wanna be your best friend anymore! I’m fucking in love with you!”            A small, soft ‘you what now?’ fluttered through the air as Y/N stood in front of him with her mouth agape.            “I’m in love with you!” Tom cried. “I’ve been in love with you for five years now! And for the past three years, I’ve been flirting with you, but I can’t take it anymore. I can’t do this! Why can’t you see it?! Why can’t you ever see me?!”            With every spoken word, Y/N was moving closer and closer calling out his name, but he wouldn’t stop. Years of pent up emotions were finally flowing freely, and you can’t stop a river from rushing to the sea.            “I’m always there for you! I’ve always been there! When it’s a broken heart, a broken arm or just a shitty day, it’s always been me that makes you feel better! And yet you’ve never been able to fucking see me!” his hands went up to pull at the messy curls, eyes shut as tears rolled down in an endless stream. “And I can’t take it anymore! I need you to know, I just-“ his chest rattled as he pulled in a breath, completely unaware that Y/N was right in front of him. “I can’t keep living with this pressing down on me, when I know we could be happy together, when I know I can love you like no one e-“                “Tom!” she yelled right into his face. As he slowly lifted his gaze, two tears streaming down his high cheekbones she wiped them away with the tenderest of touches. “Stop talking and just kiss me,” the plea was barely audible, but he heard it. He would’ve heard it over the howling of a tornado or the crashing of waves. It was a plea he never thought would ever be uttered, but there was no way in hell he’d ignore it.           For a moment he was stunned, brain processing the fact Y/N had actually said that he should kiss her, but then she moved forward more, Tom’s hands wrapping around her waist on instinct.           “Kiss me,” her lips brushed right against his, and that’s when his mind cleared from the fog, and his mouth was on Y/N’s.            It was messy, a clash of tongues and teeth as years of hidden love spilt over the surface and into the heart of the other, filling them to the brim like wine filled a cup. They were grasping at one another in a desperate manner, trying to touch everywhere at once.            Stumbling back, Tom flopped down on the edge of the bed, bringing Y/N to straddle him.           “I wanna ride your thigh,” she moaned as he nibbled on her neck leaving purple marks in his wake.            “Really?” the question was muffled from where his mouth was attached to her skin. “You sure it isn’t Sebastian’s thigh you wanna ride into the sunset?”            His sass wasn’t something she wanted to deal with, especially as the ache between her legs became more and more and more unbearable, so she bit out, “keep talking like that, and it will be.”            The rough grasp around Y/N’s hips as he flipped her leg over his and ground his knee upwards towards her crotch was enough of an answer as to what he thought of the statement. “Not a chance, darlin'. Not a fucking chance.”            “I’m just saying,” Y/N moaned out as Tom’s hands rolled her hips forward and backwards on his thigh, “you just spilt out your heart to me, and then come after with the sass?”            He groaned as her teeth latched onto his shoulder before her tongue soothed the bite. “You deserve it for not realising what’s in front of your eyes.”            Tom could feel the wet patch of where Y/N’s arousal had soaked through her panties and onto his jeans, and that just made him flex the muscle more, making her moan his name into his ear.                “Feel good, love?”            All Y/N could do was sigh in pleasure. Slowly, gently as she was still grinding against his thigh inching closer and closer to the inevitable release, Tom took his hands away from her hips and placed them at her back to unzip the dress.            It pooled around her sides like a pond of sunshine, and when he lifted his gaze up, his knee jerked quite literally, giving Y/N that final push that made her tumble over. As she rode out the waves of her first orgasm, Tom’s mouth watered at the sight before him – her completely naked chest.          In complete awe, his palms trailed up Y/N’s waist sending another shiver down her spine, as they skimmed across her ribs, under her breasts before cupping them and rolling her nipples between his fingers.    He was so enamoured with bringing Y/N to the edge, that he didn’t even notice how much he needed to cum himself until she palmed him through the black jeans while his mouth had been covering her collarbones with hickies.            “Shit,” Tom hissed as Y/N unbuckled the belt and opened the zipper and the button alleviating some of the tension. Lightly she raked her fingers down his stomach, over his abs and left red marks on the skin of his hips before dipping below the waistband of Tom’s boxers to grab at his length.           Another hiss made its way into the air as Y/N scraped the nail of her thumb against his tip smearing the precum down his cock. Tom attached his mouth to her neck sucking against her sweet spot as she slowly worked her hand over him, just enjoying the moment.            It felt surreal for both of them. Not for a second did either think they’d end up in a position like that – with Y/N moaning Tom’s name as his lips travelled down her collarbones and to her breasts and with Tom doing everything possible as to not cum in his pants because her hand was pure magic.            “You keep going like that,” he whispered and bit at the underside of Y/N’s boob as his fingers gave a harsh tug on her nipples, “and it’ll all be over right now.”            She moaned at the sting of where he’d bitten her but was now licking the pain away. “And we don’t want that do we?” her voice was hoarse already. Tom couldn’t wait for what was about to become of her.            Pushing away from him, Y/N stood on the floor and let the dress drop, leaving her in white cotton panties. They were definitely not sexy or even remotely attractive. In fact, they were the most basic ones she had because she totally did not think that’s how her night would go, but Tom didn’t seem to care one bit.            His chocolate eyes, already dark from the lust, became like a void looking at Y/N. A black lace thong or waist-high period ones with stains – he didn’t care. His shirt practically flew off of him as he stood up and smashed his lips against hers, needing to have that constant contact, and while his hands roamed and dipped all around her body, fingers brushing against her clit through the fabric, Y/N got rid of Tom’s jeans. She was just about to push against his chest to make him drop on the bed and take off his boxers when he slid down onto his knees in front of her and placed open-mouthed kisses to the inside of her thighs.           “Shit, Tommy…”            Her hands wove into the brown locks and pushed them away from his face so she could see his eyes that never left her face.            “Let me make you feel good,” he mouthed the words against the inside of her thigh inching his way closer to where Y/N needed him the most.           “Let.”           Closer.            “Me.”           Another inch.            “Make.”   ��        One more.           “You.”           Almost.           “See.”           Right there.           “The stars.”            And he placed his lips right on her clothed clit. By that point, Y/N would’ve been a sobbing mess from the neglect if not for the need to keep her body upwards as to not crush Tom.            “Please,” she whimpered brushing his hair away from his forehead, and that one little word was enough for him to roll down her underwear, mouth still latched onto the supple skin of her thighs. It was enough to grab her by the waist and pull her down to sit on his lap as he quickly discarded his own offensive piece of clothing. It was enough to make his member violently twitch against his stomach at the thought of her dripping cunt wrapped around him.            Gently Y/N rocked back and forth to coat him in her slick, mouths entwined in a dance when his eyes sprung open.            “Wait, wait, wait, condom,” Tom took his lips away from Y/N’s, but she was quick to bring him back by saying "it’s okay. I’m on the pill and clean.”            “Are you – are you sure?” there was such worry in his gaze, her heart skipped a beat. “Because we can wait, we don’t have to do anythi-“            Her lips interrupted his ramblings once again. “Make love to me, Tom.”            “Okay.”            Internally he scolded himself because ‘okay? Seriously? That’s the best you can come up with?’ though the gentle smile on Y/N’s face calmed his thundering heart, and as he muttered out an “I’m also clean”, and she replied with an “I trust you” while climbing in his lap, he swore his heart was on the verge of giving out.        The sigh both of them let out was filled with pure relief. Relief that the ache was about to be quenched, relief that they were together in this, relief that they both felt the same way. Relief that it was all out on the table and there was no turning back.            One of Tom’s hands rushed up to his curls and fisted them, eyes squeezed shut as he strained to stay composed, to give Y/N time to adjust to the intrusion. “Fuck,” he whispered as she leaned down and rested her forehead against his peck, trying to accommodate to the size. “You good there, darlin'?”            “Give me a moment, just a bit more,” Y/N’s breath was shaky as she whimpered.            “As much as you need… we don’t have anywhere to rush to,” and that brought a small smile on his lips. They had all the time in the world.            Another minute passed before Y/N rolled her hips a bit, startling Tom with the sudden movement and eliciting a whimper from his throat. All of it was unhurried and soft, the movements deliberately slowed down so the two could feel the other.            She moaned at how full she felt; all of the ridges and veins of Tom perfectly fitting inside of her and not just that. As he intertwined their hands together bringing their lips in for a kiss, all of the pieces just fit.    Every time they would hang out and hold hands, Y/N would marvel at how natural and good it felt. How easily her heartbeat synched up to his during their Friday movie nights when her head rested on his chest. And that one time when they’d kissed at a bar, his lips had moulded to hers perfectly. They were perfect for one another, and Y/N wanted to scream at how oblivious she’d been.            As much as he wanted to close his eyes and just allow himself to feel everything, Tom couldn’t. His mind screamed to not even blink, to not miss a second of what was happening, to take in the full spectrum of the gorgeous sight on top of him. But he was just human, and sometimes pleasure could be overwhelming.            The way Y/N clasped and fluttered around him, her soft breaths echoing all throughout the room like a symphony made Tom squeeze his eyes shut and rest his head against her chest. Her fingers carded through his hair, pulling at the strands as if to get him closer than he already way.            Tom’s hands had most definitely left imprints on Y/N’s hips, and they became harsher as he felt himself near his peak with every single thrust. But she wasn’t there yet. And he wasn’t about to finish without her tumbling over first.            Detaching his lips from the valley of her breasts, Tom licked the pad of one of his thumbs and sneaked it between their moving bodies, pressing it ruthlessly against her clit. Y/N choked on a breath at his touch because it was the thing, she needed to release all over his cock.            The incredible tightness Tom felt made a groan rumble through his chest, and with two more thrusts, he spilt all of himself inside her.    They were trembling as they helped one another to ride out the waves of pleasure, and once Y/N came down from her peak, she slumped over in his hold, a soothing hand running up her shivering back.            Gently, Tom helped her roll to the bed and off of him, not once detaching his mouth from her neck, words of praise and love being whispered in her ear. He was just about to stand up from the bed and go to the bathroom to grab a damp washcloth and clean them up when his eyes trailed to her core and fixed on how his seed dripped out of her.            “Fuck, you look so good like this,” Tom moaned leaning back down, a finger slipping over her folds and mixing up the white and clear liquids. “But I bet you taste even better.”            And then he dove in. Despite Y/N’s core spazzing around nothing from the overstimulation, he didn’t let her shimmy away. Instead, his biceps flexed, and his hold became as strong as iron, as he pulled her harder against his mouth and kept on his assault.            Expertly his lips wrapped around her clit creating an airtight seal as he sucked on it, sending Y/N spiralling. Her back arched up from the bed, both hands grabbing at the pillow behind her head for some sort of support because there was nothing left to tether her to the real world.            Her mouth opened in a silent scream, Y/E/C eyes that had been locked onto Tom during the whole ordeal rolled to the back of her head as she cummed for the third time that night.            As the euphoria rippled through her veins, Y/N was finally able to find her voice and the most guttural scream of Tom’s names split the night air into two, a hand fisting in his hair to keep him there between her legs.            Tom’s whole jaw was a mess as he crawled up Y/N’s body leaving sloppy kisses all over before he could plant a passionate kiss on her lips. She was still floating, still somewhere in space, but had enough consciousness to grant his tongue access and wrap her hands around his neck, as the taste of him and herself invaded her mouth.            “Been wanting to do that for a while,” he muttered letting his lips kiss her chin and cheeks while his palms soothingly rubbed her quaking thighs.            “Well, you're welcome to any time,” Y/N chuckled, mind still completely dazed. She let herself relax for a moment, and in the meantime, Tom laid down beside her. With both of them still completely naked, he brought her in his embrace and burrowed his nose in her hair, just to stay in the blissful moment.            “Tom?” Y/N hummed turning her head to the side. “Can you let me go for a sec? I need to pee; don’t want a UTI.”           Reluctantly he pulled his arms away from her torso, but not before giving her boob a playful squeeze making her swat his hand away. Y/N stood from the bed and immediately collapsed onto the floor.            He was jumping to the rescue instantly. “Shit, are you alright?”            But Y/N was full on laughing, hands clutching her stomach and legs curling up to her chest, tears streaming down her face. “O-oh my god! I’ve never been unable to fucking walk after sex!”            An adorable cherry blush rose and spread over Tom’s chest and cheeks at the remark. Knowing he was the cause of her happiness and also her inability to walk after their escapades, made his heart stutter, and he had to mask his exhilaration and shyness with a chuckle.            “Can you help me get up?” she extended both hands out to Tom. “I still need to pee.”            He climbed out the bed and grabbed Y/N’s palms that fit so flawlessly in his and gently pulled her up.            “You good?” he watched her take two steps while still holding onto her. But she seemed to have regained some control over her limbs so with a small “yeah, thank you,” and a peck on his lips, she went into the bathroom.            After doing her deed and having thrown a damp towel to Tom, Y/N scrambled back into the once lumpy looking bed that was now like a cloud, mostly because of who her pillow was.            “So,” he smirked looking down at her, trailing a finger over her bicep, “am I on the list now?”            “Nope,” Y/N popped the ‘p’ and cuddled up closer to Tom. “Still don’t consider you a celebrity. Besides… those people are on there for a theoretical ‘what if they were down for it and I had the chance’ scenario… hopefully, this wasn’t a one-time thing, and you’ll be down for the rest of our lives.”            Tom snorted, a lightness filling his chest. “Darling, now that I’ve finally made you understand that I’m in love with you, I intend on making sure you remember that.”            Y/N couldn’t help the quirk of her lips, and she pecked his chest. “So,” she breathed out, “who’s on your list?”            “You,” Tom answered in full seriousness. “Just you. Have been since well… since like five years ago when I fell in love with you.”            Y/N slapped his shoulder and shook her head as she laughed. “I’m calling bullshit on that one.” But he just shrugged.            “Games or not,” his lips skimmed over hers, “‘what ifs’ or not. The only one I need or want is you.”

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A/N: sooo, I’ve been working on another Endgame fix-it-fic and it’s around 8k words rn... and it’s barely halfway done :) I feel like I’m going to combust. Sorry for the absence, it’s just a lot to write as was this one, but I hope you liked this :D

P.S. tell me what you think :)

P.S.S. my tags are always open/ requests are closed